#sure they've found each other back but what do you do with that. where do you put it. it makes me insane!!!

[pinkyqil]

I'm sorry

Lucy bronze x ona batlle x r

Summary: childhood bestfriend to lovers to strangers

Warning: just toxic bestfriend, jealousy issues to many spelling mistakes for me too care for at this point in life

You and Lucy had always been together 24/7 has you both grew-up together like the childhood friends you're. Never letting go of one another. Always following each other, most people would think that you both were together.

"You've always felt attracted to lucy. Because of the way she treats you, always taking care of you getting the stuff she knows you'll need and most of all dealing with your massive sassy princess attitude.

Back in 2020 where she played for Manchester city around the covid out-break. You both decided to moving in together, always needing each other's company. After a while of living with lucy she finally confessed her feelings which you felt the same way.

Making you both finally official has most of your friends have been anticipating the moment.

You and lucy relationship had been going amazing. a little fights here and there but nothing to serious that would go way too far. Until she announced that she'll be leaving to play for Barcelona meaning you'll both have to do long distance until she comes for break or international duties.

Which you were okay with until now you've both been arguing way more recently all you ever wanted was for her to make more time on her busy schedule but she couldn't has they've been having game after game. Making you upset which would start random yelling match from the phone's.

"Another yelling match". said ona

lucy and ona had gotten really close for the past months. that she been playing for barca has she was found by her in the locker room crying from one of your arguments. Since then they've both gotten really close

"Yeah it just getting way worse and I don't think I know what to do".lucy said

"lucia I think we both know what you need to do" replied ona.

"but ona you know I can't I love her too much to do that she's been through everything with me all I want is to is too fix the holes in our relationship but nothing seems to work".

"I know but you can't keep pushing it like that do what best for both of you". ona told her while holding her hands.

That night you got a call from lucy which you weren't expecting.

cause it would have been really late for lucy which meant she was definitely up thinking about something but what she told you honestly couldn't comprehend.

She was breaking up with you over the phone from 1,137.96 kilometers away from each other that night you cried your heart out from the heavy feelings to now feeling empty.

You lost the love of your life the person that made you smile gave you whatever you needed that assisted you without asking you lost her.

And now feeling broken pices that no one could ever pick up again you hated this banging pain.

It been months since you're break up with lucy some people could've seen it from a distance but other's likewise.

it came shocking to both families who were sure that you both would have worked it out and get married in the future.

But they were wrong cause now she was with ona.

Ona is a pure soul nothing compare to you. you've tried hating her but couldn't the girl was way to nice for her own sake everyone around her loved her which you couldn't get that much what was so special about her but not you.

The last time you saw Lucy was around her vist back to england but instead of as lover you both we're now mere strangers who were once deeply inlove.

A/n : this has honestly sleeping in my drafts for the longest of time and I just got it done there's probably a lot of mistakes cause it wasn't proof read yet but other than that hope y'all enjoy this and don't forget that my request are open

#lucy bronze #ona batlle #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso edit #woso #woso community #woso soccer #barca femini x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #fcb femini #fc barcelona #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy bronze x reader #pinkyqil #pinky shenanigans #pinkqilfic #fcb femeni x reader #fcb femeni #fc barca femeni #espwnt imagine #engwnt #espwnt #woso one shot #woso fic #woso angst #woso drama #ona batlle imagine

[quickhacked]

Mikhail and Vitali were inseparable; when they weren’t studying or getting into fights, they would hang out at Mikhail’s place to smoke and get drunk on cheap rum and vodka, to then pass out in each other’s arms and sleep most of the next day away. They promised each other— no matter what would happen— they would never leave each other’s side. Yet after starting university and college respectively, they did not see each other for a little over six years, leaving them both heartbroken and wondering what went wrong.

by lucas expedidor // catch me if you can; eden // clementine von radics, from 'courtney love prays to oregon' // sam sax, cruising: a broken tiara // 'ceramic home' by heavensghost; quote from john murillo // 'something's changed' by laiikastears // i don't want to watch the world end with someone else; clinton kane // fortesa latifi, from 'the truth about grief' // audre lorde, the evening news // frank o'hara, biotherm (for bill berkson) // heading home; ruben // 'preface to a dream' by alessandra casini // tokyo; caroline kole // langston hughes, poem // haruki murakami, norwegian wood // julie buntin, marlena // by lute // by aleksandr popov // anyway; noah kahan // christa wolf, cassandra: a novel and four essays

#cp2077 #edit:mikhail #edit:vitali #nuclearocs #nuclearedits #happy birthday to my two boys :^) yes they share the same birthday what about it. it's essential to their whole. thing #whatever it is. they're like soulmates but also they are NOT dating. i need you to understand that. because it makes everything funnier #you guys remember when i first introduced them here and people thought they were together. good times honestly #but yeah no vitali is officially dating vincent and mikhail is just their eternal third wheel. their relationship can't be defined #they also reunite of course but i LOVE emphasizing their grief. they didn't know they'd ever see each other again #and they've known each other since around age 12. imagine spending almost every day with someone who CHOSE you #and then suddenly not seeing them or talking to them for YEARS. what do you do with that grief. that pain #sure they've found each other back but what do you do with that. where do you put it. it makes me insane!!! #they both were so lonely in their own way. vitali getting lost in vices and crowds but ending up all by himself at the end of the day #and mikhail drowning himself in studying and pushing himself far over his limits just to distract himself from the hole in his chest #night city in my head is much more massive than what it feels like in game. like yeah it feels big but not. BIG big #and i think mikhail and vitali's story and them losing contact while only a district apart really emphasizes how like #how HUGE this city is not only in terms of actual land it covers but also just. how overwhelming it is. how it can swallow you whole #anyway if you've read all of this hi. wanna make out

[luveline]

hi miss jade <3 if it hasn’t been done already, could you possibly write poly!marauders with a depressed reader? maybe she’s having a particularly hard time lately and she’s trying to hide it from them but they notice she’s been really quiet recently. then one day while they’re all just sitting together, one of them looks over and sees a tear rolling down her cheek and they comfort her </3 if this isn’t something you’re up to writing i understand! thank you nonetheless lovely <3

thank u for ur request lovely!

modern au 

“No,” Remus is whispering, “that's the other actor.” 

James leans into his side. You've successfully crammed yourselves onto the three seater sofa, all four of you. You're on one arm, Sirius the other. If Sirius and James sit together during a movie they won't stop talking, and if you and Remus sit together you'll spend the entire movie telling each other what other movies the actors have been in. 

James and Remus seem to have found a loophole. Sirius tries uselessly to reach over their shoulders to touch you, but James blocks him by accident, head tilting back in a laugh. 

You aren't in the mood for movies. Not their fault, not anyone's, but a melancholy has its hooks in you, and you'd excuse yourself to spend time alone with it if it didn't immediately draw their attention. You're not sure you want to be alone, either. 

James reaches for your hand even as he speaks to Remus excitedly, “He's Ryan Gosling, right?” 

“Yeah, James,” —said with love— “that's Ryan Gosling.” 

You hold James' hand. It's a very real, very gentle tether, but eventually the noise in the room turns white. You lay your cheek on the sofa arm and watch the movie pass by in colours. Dusky orange, pink, blue rain. Your hard times recently have felt longer, deeper, and you've floundered in them helplessly. 

Though the boys couldn't make it worse, their devotion tends to hurt. You feel like you're letting them down whenever you can't fight your lethargy. Even now when you're together for a normal night, you're stuck under the weight of it. You could be playing with James’ hair the way he loves, or telling Remus something interesting about the movie. You could crawl across the two chatterboxes and ask Sirius what he did at work today while he draws shapes into the back of your hand. But you're not. And everything begins to feel worse. 

The TV flickers. The room hums. The tear that slides down your cheek is hot as the drag of a pin. 

You shift down into the arm to hide it as more follow. James pulls his hand away, and you assume he's just getting comfortable, but he puts it on your shoulder, the sofa whining as he leans in. “Hey…” he whispers, nearly too soft to hear. He must've been watching you. They've been doing that more and more lately. 

Your shoulders shake as the first sob brews. They aren't overly loud, you aren't wound tightly enough to really cry, you're just defeated. Tired and scared that this feeling is forever. 

The contented atmosphere in the room drains quicker than snapped fingers. “What's wrong?” Sirius asks. 

You curl away from James. You can't pretend you aren't crying and you don't really want to, but something about his touch feels raw. He comes closer, leaning into you, hand chasing around to your front where it rests over your heart. “It's okay,” he says soundly. “Oh, honey, it's okay.” 

James isn't as heavy with the pet names as the other two. When he does use them, they're genuine but said in high spirits. Almost like a joke, his ever-present humour shining through. He's warm and steady behind you, his lips brushing your ear as he hugs you to his chest. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Sorry.” 

Remus says your name unhappily. They know better than to converge on you, and James has always been good at comforting people. Maybe his solidness in both physicality and personality does him credit, but more likely it's his unending patience. He doesn't rush you into feeling better. He just stays right there at your side until you stop shaking. 

“Sorry,” you say again, voice in fractured layers, “I don't know…” 

“I know,” he says. “Let's sit up, okay? Sit up.”

Remus gives you a look with just enough heartbreak that when he holds out his hand, you raise yourself up, knowing James will take you by the waist and help you over his lap. You smush in between their legs as Remus wipes your face dry, and Sirius meets your eyes around his shoulder. It all works to lift the weight from your chest, not fully, but enough to breathe. 

“You don't have to explain.” 

“Just don't cry more,” Sirius begs. He really hates tears, doesn't know what to do with them. “You're too lovely for tears.” 

“Unless you need to,” James says. 

“Right,” Sirius agrees through a wince. 

“She's okay,” Remus says, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, “hmm? You're alright.” 

He isn't pressuring you into pretending things are better than they are, he's encouraging, and he knows as you know that you're not very well, but you'll manage in the end. You sink back into James arms and smile at them weakly. 

“I'm okay. I just wanted James to rub my stomach, that's all.” 

“Theatrics in the name of attention,” Sirius says proudly. “As you should.” 

James wraps his arms around your front, giving your abdomen a squeeze as he leans down to say, “I'll rub your stomach all night if you want me to,” with a warmth so tender it escapes words. 

Remus drops back into Sirius rather aggressively. “Make haste.” 

“Make haste?” Sirius presses his nose into Remus’ curls, his voice dripping with a feigned contempt, “You make haste, you sick freak.” And then he raises his hand to cover Remus' stomach in mirror of James’ touch. 

You breathe out long and slow, eyes closing of their own accord. “I'm not going to sleep, okay? I'm just tired.” 

James gets comfortable underneath you. “Do what you want, babe. I'm here for the night. If I need to pee I'll just hoist you into Moony's lap for a bit.” 

“I can fit two, thanks,” Sirius interjects. 

“Fine. I'll hoist you into his lap. Though I've no clue why you'd want to spend any time with that bossy bastard.” 

#the marauders #marauders #poly marauders #poly!marauders #poly marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fic #sirius black fic #james potter fic #the marauders x reader #the marauders x fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter

[stevieschrodinger]

Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU

Part One

Part Two

PART THREE

"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."

"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"

"Yeah, like a series."

"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"

"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"

"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."

Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.

"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"

"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"

"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.

Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"

"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."

Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.

Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'

And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.

There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.

"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."

Steve's heart fucking melts.

Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.

"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."

"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"

"Yeah. Still not my thing-"

"Oh."

"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."

"...yeah?"

"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."

"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"

"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."

"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.

"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."

"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.

"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."

"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."

"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."

"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."

And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.

@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #my fic writing #fan fic stuff #fic wip #ficlet #rock star eddie munson #baker steve harrington #dungeons and dragons

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Sewing Hearts On Their Sleeves

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

It had been a long three weeks without seeing you in person and it was starting to put a strain on Chan's work, because how could he write music when you were his muse and you weren't here to inspire him? He sighed a little trying not to get too stressed about everything, he could always start fresh tomorrow and that was when his phone buzzed beside him.

You: Don't forget to go home early, you need some sleep xx

The text flashed on the screen and Chan smiled to himself, it was about ten so he could head home to the dorms now and get some sleep. As he began packing everything up he stopped and stared down at the hoodie that was sitting on the sofa behind him. It wasn't completely obvious but sitting on the right cuff of his sleeve were two little hearts sewn into the fabric, a blue and pink heart and his heart clenched a little at the thought of you spending the time to do that.

MINHO:

The boys relentlessly teased Minho for wearing the hoodie you'd sewn hearts into but he adored it. Not only was it cute but the hoodie smelled like you so he always knew what to do whenever he was missing you.

"Who would have guessed that Minho was a softy." Jisung teased as he watched his older member take out the hoodie from his wardrobe and change into it, taking in a deep breath before visibly relaxing in front of everyone's eyes.

"I can't help it," He mumbled a little glancing at the boys who were all smirking in his direction now.

"They've barely been gone two days," Chan teased before a pillow was launched in his direction by Minho who went back to snuggling into the hoodie.

CHANGBIN:

There had to be over five different hoodies that you'd sewn cute little hearts into, and then there had to be more T-shirts as well and Changbin took every single one of them on tour with him. He did it so that he could feel close to you while you were so far away from each other,

"Are you wearing the heart shirt?!" You squealed, Changbin had called and while you were talking he'd posted a photo of him at the gym. He was dressed in one of the shirts you'd sewn a bunch of hearts onto the chest of.

"I've worn one every chance I've got," He laughed a little before you giggled excitedly at the thought of your boyfriend doing that just because he missed you.

HYUNJIN:

"What are you doing?" You laughed as your boyfriend came rushing into the living room you shared and dropped - what had to be every single shirt and jumper he owned at your feet.

"Can you do it to every single one?" You stared at him a little dumbfounded,

"Hyunjin, I'd be here forever. Do you know how many clothes you own?!" You teased before he sat down beside you, looking at the careful needle work you'd been doing on the sleeve of one of his hoodies.

"Okay...Maybe a couple of my favourites, then I can always have you with me," He pouted a little before you nodded, kissing his pouting lips and watching in amusement as your boyfriend found out all of his favourite pieces.

JISUNG:

You thought Jisung was upset with you at first, he'd come in from work to find you sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor with your sewing kit around you and his favourite hoodie in hand. Before you could explain what it was you were doing he'd run out of the room and you hadn't seen him since.

"I bought yours," Jisung said as he came back into the room, sitting in front of you and matching your exact position,

"Now we can have matching hoodies." He said as he pointed to the heart on his sleeve and then held out the hoodie for you to start sewing another matching heart into.

"You sure?" You teased, you knew he'd been wanting matching clothes for ages now but could never figure a way around it until now.

"I want matching clothes with you," He whined before you kissed him and began to get to work.

FELIX:

As soon as fans started to see Felix wearing the hoodie they all began to question him on where he got it from since none of them could find it online. Your relationship was still a secret for now and he was nervous about telling them he'd been the one to sew them into it since he would be taking credit for your hard work.

"Tell them, baby, it's fine." You laughed as he asked you if you were sure for the millionth time that day, he gave you a sad look.

"I love them, I love you, and You and I both know who really did it." He told you before kissing you and smiling a little as he blushed.

"I do. Now go," You whined pushing him toward the bedroom where the phone was waiting for him to go live.

SEUNGMIN:

"You're gross," You grumbled to Seungmin as you watched him cradle the hoodie to his chest and shake his head at you. It was in desperate need of a wash, You knew why he didn't want you to wash it but it needed it and you weren't going to let him get away with a dirty hoodie.

"Babe, it has stains all over it." You mumbled trying to take it from his grasp but he only seemed to tighten his hold on it and you sighed at him.

"What if I agree to do another hoodie for you? Will that mean I can wash this one?" As soon as you suggested it Seungmin dropped the hoodie and smirked at you, running to go and find a different one for you to sew into.

JEONGIN:

Sewing things into your clothes had been something you'd picked up over the years, it started when you had nothing else to do while watching a show and now it was something you just did for fun. Which was why it was surprising to you when Jeongin begged you to do it to some of his clothes,

"Can you do little hearts? Two of them! In our favourite colours!" He yelled from the bedroom as he came out with two black hoodies, one for you and one for him and a giant smile spread across his cheeks. How could you ever say no to that?

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @illicee @djeniryuu @backintomykpopphaseagain @choisoorin

#skz #skz x reader #skz reaction #skz reactions #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids reaction #stray kids reactions #bang chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin #yang jeongin #kim seungmin #seungmin #lee felix #felix #han jisung #jisung #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #seo changbin #changbin #lee know #lee minho

[auroreliis]

pls we need more father-daughter moments with bruce because almost all of the yandere batfam fics i’ve read in tumblr always focuses on the bros 😭😭

Platonic Yandere!Bruce Wayne

Summary: Your father protects you from your brothers.

CW: mention of bugs

(not edited or proofread)

Rapid footsteps echoed through the manor. The quiet treading belonged to you and the more audible stomps were from your brother, Dick. Your panting was not missed by the individual chasing you. It was clear that you were getting worn out.

Currently, you were attempting to avoid getting hugged by Dick, who, being as touchy as he is, did not appreciate you steering clear of his squeeze. He had hugged all of his siblings and none of them were as resilient as you, so why did you have to avoid him like this?

You darted past all possible hiding places, since you were sure it would only be a matter of time until he found you, instead opting to run. Your knees bent slightly as you were rounding the corner, in order to be able to push yourself forward with a little more power.

What you couldn't have expected, was that you would run directly into your father's chest. The sudden blockage caused you to stop and look up at him, before remembering that you were on the run. Your head turned and you saw Dick getting closer to you. Out of panic, you hid behind Bruce, who raised a brow at your eldest brother.

Dick came to a halt directly in front of Bruce, who had crossed his arms by now.

"Richard, would you explain the situation to me? I don't quite understand why your sibling is running from you", he said, not mentioning the fact that your nails were digging into his back.

"They've been running from me every time I try to even touch them. I don't want them to distance themselves, they need to be involved more", said Richard, distressed by your sidestepping.

Bruce hummed in thought. "I'll talk to them", his tone signaling that Richard should leave.

Dick huffed before stomping away.

Your father finally turned to you and waited for your explanation.

A sigh escaped your lips and you dropped your head, "Sorry, I just...felt overwhelmed. I'm not really fond of physical contact, but I'll work on it, I promise." You did slightly cringe at your own words, but by now you had learned that complying with their wishes was much more rewarding than disobeying them.

You kept your head low, waiting for his acknowledgement, when a hand landed on your head. You looked up at him, eyebrow raised in confusion, but he just looked at you. He gave your head two light pats before smiling and walking away.

Looking around, you remembered that you had escaped Richard without giving in to his affection.

A radiant smile lit up your face as you scurried off to your room.

~~~~~

"Oh come on! It won't hurt you, will it?", shouted your brother, Jason, as he chased you through the manor, cockroach in hand, ready to be shoved in your face.

He had found it in his helmet and you immediately expressed your repulsion and highlighted the fact that he must be very filthy.

Jason, offended by this comment, decided to make you filthy too, by rubbing a bug on your nose, or at least attempting to. You bolted out of his room at a speed that would put The Flash to shame, but he caught up with you and promised that he wouldn't leave you alone as long as you were clean.

You barely paid attention to your surroundings as you ran through the halls and turned every nearing corner, yet you somehow ended up in the kitchen, where your father was currently conversing with Alfred.

"DAD HELP!", was all you needed to say to have Bruce step between you and Jason, taking on a protective stance.

Jason saw this and stopped, not even having entered the kitchen yet.

Both of them stared at each other silently before Jason turned around and left, presumably deciding that he had better things to do than getting scolded by Bruce.

He muttered a few curse words under his breath and for a moment you feared that you would wake up to him at the foot of your bed, holding a handful of bugs.

"Why was he chasing you?", your father's question brought you back to the situation at hand. "Uh..", you weren't sure how to phrase this without making Jason seem nefarious, "He wanted to show me a bug, but I didn't want to see it, so I ran!"

Bruce inhaled, as if he was about to talk, but you beat him to it, "But! You saved me, thank you!" You hugged him and smiled innocently, praying he stops asking questions.

It seems that he noticed your reluctance to elaborate, so he left it at that and you disappeared within seconds.

This wasn't the first time your father had saved you from your brothers and it most certainly won't be the last.

It was kind of funny how you always seemed to run into him when you were in trouble.

Perhaps it was fate guiding you to your saviour.

It matters not.

All that mattered was that you were thankful for your father's help and understanding, even if his timing was suspiciously accurate.

#bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson #jason todd #yandere jason todd #dc comics #platonic yandere #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #batfam #x reader

[harleehazbinfics]

ermm ermmm ,,,,, , cannibal!reader has like a sad past right (i saw u mention they were abused hence the obsession w approval) ,, well okay what if the hotel residents found out? like ... idk one of reader’s parents shows up at the hotel ... idk , honestly i just really love how you write cannibal reader theyre wildly silly

Crazy for you!

--- cannibal chef m.list

a/n: AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCHHH they/she is indeed very silly, i most of my inspo from myself and other fans of alastor and their reactions lmao. ive been stuck on one fanfic for days i gave up today and words just flowed for cannibal chef reader, i can't--. also plsplspls if you find any of this triggering pls turn back, i want all of you to be in a safe space.

warnings: abusive mother, shaming choice of clothing, weight shaming, typical asian behavior of 'be a doctor or lawyer' but rudeness level maxed out, being called ungrateful, useless etcetc DISCLAIMER: Any scenarios are entirely fictional and have no direct relation to any person and taken from behaviours I see, read or hear from. Thank you. word count: 1292

You, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, Angel and Sir Pentious got together and were enjoying a lazy weekend just lounging around the parlor just enjoying each other's company and talking amongst each other. The lot of them fitting on the couch and the floor. You stood beside Alastor sitting on a chair by himself drinking his coffee indulging himself in a casual conversation.

You all turn your heads when the door opens expecting to see Vaggie and Charlie, preparing to greet them and get them to join you all. However, they stop in themselves from doing so when they see the both of them touring a person in.

Your constant smile drops at the sight of her. You immediately recognize the face and voice making you slowly and quietly hid behind the chair Alastor making yourself small as to not catch their attention. Alastor, of course, notices this action and raises his eyebrow.

"And this is Angel and Sir Pentious our other guest, Niffty our cleaning maid and Husk our bartender. Alastor here is the host of the hotel, he's the who supported all our endeavors!" Charlie states.

"Oh! Isn't that the Radio Demon? Dear it is him! I'm a big fan of yours," your mother mooches at Alastor earning a displeased static sound from him when she abruptly shook his hand without his permission.

"Alastor, where's (y/n)? Aren't they always with you?" Charlie asks making you cringe as you cautiously walk towards them.

"(Y/n)? Is that you?" your mother asks in disbelief before enveloping you in a hug, which made you sick to your stomach. "Oh gosh! It's been years! Look at you! You look so skanky with that clothing. You also look like you've gained weight. I told you not to go to culinary school and be a doctor or lawyer instead. You look so fat now, probably from all that meat you're eating. You should've gone vegan look how your Aunt Karen slimmed down, she's been going around and teaching, crazy bitch. Anyway, take my luggage to my room, I need to talk to everyone here. Good? Great."

You tried to get a word in with dejected eyes but lose your voice when she gives you harsh glare. You sigh and take her bags and answered, "Yes mother."

Without you noticing, all the others went deathly silent as they watch you look so sad. Your almost permanent smile disappeared from your face making them surprised and worried. You always smiled around them, mimicking Alastor's grin that was plastered on your face. Sure, they've seen you drop the smile when you were separated with Alastor before but eventually you opened up to them and was seen constantly socializing and smiling around them making them feel relieved being the youngest of all of them, but they never seen you look so sad before. Coupled with the backhanded comments made by your mother, they couldn't help but feel hostile.

Indeed, you were crazy and a bit of a monster, but you were the sweetest most thoughtful thing that ever happened to them. Any occasion was prepared by you ranging from the Hotel's Anniversary, Birthdays and even as miniscule as just a mission accomplished on their rehabilitation program. This encouraged everyone to do better with how much faith you put in them. (That and your cooking is so out of this world that even Angel would dial his drug intake from a 15 to a 13 for a treat.)

So, when your sweet and genuine smile faded, they glared at the perpetrator that made you react so drastically. However, in respect for Charlie they held their tongue first.

"Sooo, what's your relationship with (y/n)?" Charlie asks trying to be polite despite the tense atmosphere.

"Oh, her? She's my daughter. Ungrateful little wench, I took care of her her whole life and the thanks I get is her running away home. Next thing I know she's in a boarding school for taking culinary classes. Where'd that bitch even get that money, she should've paid everything he owed to us first! Her parents! Say, can you make me a drink Whiskers? Just thinking of that bitch makes my head hurt. Make it snappy," she orders around slumping onto a vacant seat making herself very at home.

"Don't call me Whiskers, only my friends get to call me that. And I ain't taking shit from you," Husker replies turning his back at her.

She gasps dramatically and yells, "You call this hospitality?!"

She stands up trying to reach Husk, Angel stands in between them along with Pentious and Niffty before a black tendril shoots out from the ground wrapping around her.

"This is where I draw the line," Vaggie growls pointing her spear at your mother.

"What? You actually like that girl? Pft, what the fuck's that all about. She's ungrateful and good for nothing. You actually like someone as useless as her?" your mother laughs at the protective group, her eyes widen as she sees Charlie change into her demon form.

Alastor gently pushes her behind him stopping her in her tracks. He says, "I'll handle this. This obviously concerns my closest companion so this will fall into my hands."

Your mother scrutinizes him finding his tone and gesture quite odd then her eyes lighten up in recognition. She laughs at him and yells, "You can't be serious! You like that--"

She gets cut off as the tendril wraps around her mouth and drags you in his shadow, ceasing her muffled screams. As soon as she disappears, you come down finding all of them but your mom.

"Where's my mom?"

"Sheeee changed her mind! Yeah! She told us that she had something to do," Charlie lies between her teeth with an anxious look in her eyes making Vaggie elbow her despite her doing the same.

"Oh, I see," you say still not smiling, "Will she come back? Her things are still here."

"Nah. She ain't comin' back, sweet cheeks. She's got better shit to do apparently and wanted us to drop off her stuff on an address," Angel casually lies beckoning her to sit with them petting your head after.

Husk nudges Pentious making him confused for a while before getting the message, answering, " Y-yes! I will do it right now. Eggbois! Take the woman's things outside the hotel!"

While the little eggs tottered to do their master's bidding your eyes slowly light up but not fully their yet.

"Look kid, we won't prod into your business but know if you ever need someone to talk to, you've got a bartender right here," Husk jokes with a grin holding onto his suspenders in a pose making you slightly giggle.

"Hey, hey you got us too!" Angel, Charlie, Niffty and Pentious (that got back from telling them to throw the old bat's shit into the garbage) joined in earning a smile from Vaggie and Alastor.

After you felt better, you called in for the day and left to your rooms. After escorting Alastor to his room he snags you inside then comes in close before petting your head tenderly.

You look at him surprised, although without your normal heart eyes that you give him, confused at his actions.

He brushes his fingers against your cheek electrifying you and states, "Whenever you get into trouble, tell me. I'll handle it myself, after all you are mine."

Your eyes shape into hearts, legs turning into jelly, heart beating faster and faster by the millisecond, trying to comprehend the weight of his words and engraving them into your brain.

"Understood?" he asks pleased with your reaction.

"Yes, Sir~" you breathed out finding yourself flushed red, breath hot and heavily.

"Good," he smiles devilishly.

(I'll leave the ending as ambiguous 😌)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #cannibal chef reader #harleehazbinfic

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi, I love your writing! Are you still taking requests? What about a villain finding out his fav hero is actually an robot?

The hero went missing briefly and in their reunion his systems start to panic, the villain attempt to help? And finds out there is grey metal under his mask? Not skin?

"Oh," the villain said, soft. "Oh, I see."

"See what?" The hero stayed turned away, head bowed, frantically trying to shield his face. "Don't look at me. Just - what are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you."

"R-rescue me?"

The villain stepped closer into the hero's cell. Heat radiated off the hero's back and, well. The villain pressed a finger to the back of the hero's neck; where the skin had burnt away, revealing the cold grey of metal and circuitry.

The hero gasped and whirled.

His face was - well, it was fried from the few short days he'd spent missing, captured. Where his enemies had tried to bruise him, bleed him, there were caved in spaces that revealed yet more metal. The hint of a perfect silver skull. Veins which throbbed with electricity instead of blood. Even one of the hero's eyes were gone, replaced by the startling blue of a machine staring back. Well, they were always blue but...so muffled, before, compared to what the villain looked at then.

The two of them stared at each other.

"You can't tell anyone," the hero said.

"I always thought you were too impossibly good to be true," the villain replied. "Too flawless."

"Don't," the hero whispered.

The villain took the hero's jaw, carefully, tenderly, in their hands. "Look what a mess they've made of you. I'll kill them for it."

The hero closed the one eye that he could. He trembled, so exquisitely life-like, so exquisitely alive, in the villain's palms.

"They must have been so angry when they found out what you were," the villain said. He let his finger stroke over the ruined curve of the hero's cheek. "I'm glad I got here before they destroyed you completely."

"Why? What are you going to do with me?"

The hero took a step back.

The villain let him go, for now, studying him with fresh eyes. More and more puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Do with you?"

"I'm not human."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm not - if people know -"

"I've never heard you talk like that before. System overload?"

The hero shook his head. Something sparked. "You're d-dodging the question."

"Well," the villain said, evenly. "I was going to take you out of here. Clean up your wounds at my place. That sort of thing. I could probably makeshift the kind of specialist support you currently need in my lab, but I imagine you have a much better set up at home. So I guess I'm taking you home. If that's okay with you."

"Home," the hero echoed. He stood frozen.

"Home."

"You're not mad? Mad? Mad?" The hero managed to jerk to a halt. He heaved a ragged, shuddering breath.

"No."

"I'm not human. You came to rescue a human. Human." The hero shoved a hand over his mouth. The tremors were more forceful than before.

If the villain touched him again, he would be fever hot, wouldn't he?

The villain shrugged.

"I don't understand," the hero said.

"Unsurprising. You're not running at full capacity right now, are you? So shall we pick this up again when you're out of here? And feeling a bit better? It would be tragic if I came all this way just for you to overheat in front of me."

The hero stared some more. The blue eye contracted and expanded, whirring noiselessly. The villain wished he knew what kind of diagnostics the hero was running. How it all worked. He wanted to know everything.

His brain, such as it was, must surely be the most gorgeous thing.

He'd always wanted to know how the hero ticked but this...oh, this. He held out a hand and smiled.

"It's a relief, actually," the villain said. "I'm not mad. Now. Let's get you back in your mask, shall we?"

By the time the repairs were done, it was impossible to tell. It was extraordinary. Giddying. A love letter to the best that people could be.

And the hero looked shattered by the truth of it.

#villains and heroes #heroes and villains #writing #story #ficlet #robot #android #writeblr #villains #heroes #robot hero

[love-belle]

paper rings !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she would say yes, even with paper rings.

or

for when you're certain that they're your person. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au irl // lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - one of the cutest things i have ever written, loved this request!! i hope you like it, i love you, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, lilymhe and 729,926 others

yourusername best believe i'm still bejeweled

7,718 comments

username MOTHER IS MOTHERING

username just one chance pls 🙏

username im so norma abt her hahahaha!! SO normal abt losing my wife to a man that goes vroom vroom in circles!!

lewishamilton the most beautiful ❤️

-> yourusername thank u baby ❤️

lewishamilton can't believe how lucky i am

-> yourusername that's all me

-> username i NEED what these bitches have

username she's not wearing her engagement ring question mark

lilymhe girlfriend 💌

-> yourusername girlfriend 💌

username the ring ⁉️⁉️⁉️

username she ate so hard they named the restaurant after her

username she's not wearing her ring ://

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

"hey, baby."

"hey," lewis mumbled, not sparing y/n a single glance as he continued to watch a random episode of modern family.

"how was your night?" y/n continued to make conversation with him, removing her high heels and discarding her handbag. she walked towards where he was at and kissed the top of his head before petting roscoe a few times. "sorry, there was traffic and then i had to drop aaliyah at her boyfriend's place cause she got too drunk to drive."

"'s okay," was all lewis said, making y/n frown as she turned back to look at him. he was still watching the tv, his head thrown back against the back of the couch with roscoe next to him.

"uh — i'll be right back, i need to change," y/n spoke, her confusion only growing as her fiancé gave no reply, not even a slight hum as an indication that he had heard her.

moving towards their bedroom, y/n could feel herself grow more confused, thinking of all of the possible reasons as to why lewis would be so short and distant with her.

maybe he was just having a bad day? maybe he was just tired? was he sick? did i do something? another rumour of me hooking up with my best friend? he found out i broke his favourite vase?

her mind swarming with plausible to way-too-ridiculous reasons, she didn't even notice her changing her own clothes until she was left staring at the heap that was her dress by her feet. picking it up and throwing it on the bed, she made her way towards the living room, hoping that maybe she just imagined it. that it was just ber overthinking mind that over analysed a situation.

"hey," y/n spoke again, walking around to the couch to the front of it. sensing that she wanted to sit here, roscoe stood up and moved a bit, just enough so that y/n could scoot in and then laid back, this time on her. "hey," lewis replied, his eyes flickering to her before he focused again on the show in front of him.

okay so, maybe she didn't imagine it.

"what are we watching?" y/n questioned, scratching behind roscoe's ears, desperate to make a conversation with him, seeing him for the first time since this afternoon.

"modern family," lewis sighed exasperated and as much as y/n hated to admit it, it made her feel like he didn't want her there at the moment. sure, he may have had his reasons but it didn't feel exactly good, noticing that her fiancé didn't wanna be around her at the moment.

as long as she's been with lewis, almost seven years, they've always communicated with each other. from the smallest of things like when y/n told lewis that she hated his choice of carpet for their living room to the biggest and the most important stuff like when lewis talked to y/n about wanting to wait until after they were married to have kids.

and the best thing about this was the other always understood. lewis understood that yeah, bright pink did clash with the warm and pastel tones of their home and y/n did understand that waiting until they were fully settled down was the best option.

and now, watching him not talk to her when there was obviously something bothering him was a bit confusing but still, she knew it was best to give him some space.

"uh — i'll be in the bedroom," y/n spoke, her voice just barely above a whisper and she knew he heard her because of the way his face changed and the way he turned to look at her with the slightest bit of confusion showing in his eyes. "it's been a long night and i just really want to sleep."

"okay," lewis whispered back and gave her a small smile, the most reaction she'd been able to get out of him since she came home.

"good night," y/n stood up, kissing roscoe's on the head before she turned toward lewis, who was watching his with an unreasonable look on his face. "good night, baby, i love you."

she barely heard an 'i love you' back before she was walking away from the couch and towards their bedroom. closing the door behind her, she picked up her dress from the bed and placed it on the chair by the dressing table, making a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners. after looking at herself one more time in the mirror and removing whatever was left of her makeup, she was in bed, covers drawn up to her chest.

y/n didn't know how long she laid there for, moving in and out of sleep. her mind was still stuck on lewis like a broken record, wondering what had happened while she was out. in the midst of her analysis, she didn't hear the footsteps approach the door until the person was right in front of it and the handle twisted and y/n quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep just so he wouldn't question her about what she was doing.

the door opened and closed and the soft patter of footsteps could be heard.

there was silence for a full minute before lewis got in next to her, the sheet rustling. for the first five minutes, he stayed on his own side and y/n had to resist the urge to pull him closer to her, finding it hard to sleep when he was not holding her. then, he turned towards her and y/n had a feeling he was starting at her, finding it harder and harder to not let her expression change. she could feel movement next to her and ruled it out as lewis getting comfortable until a hand moved to lay across her abdomen and pulled her closer.

she heard lewis inhale deeply, his head moving to lay in the crook of her neck. she could feel his warm breath on the exposed part of her collarbone, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin. she shifted against him, her hand moving to hold him closer.

they stayed like that for what felt like mere minutes, their breathing the only sound in the room along with the ticking of the clock with each passing second. y/n figured lewis fell asleep, with how even his breathing was and she was about to move to get a bit more comfortable when he spoke.

"i'm sorry," his voice was quiet in the room, his thumb tracing circles on her stomach where her tank top had risen up slightly. "for ignoring you, kind of and being distant. i know you don't like it."

"it's okay, lew. i just want you to be able to talk to me, whenever you feel like," y/n assured him, kissing the top of his head.

"it's a stupid thing, really," lewis chuckled half heartedly, his body vibrating against hers. "don't even worry about it."

"i always worry about it when it comes to you, you know that," y/n reminded him, making him look at her. "and it's not stupid if it bothers you. what is it, love?"

"it's just that — " lewis stopped before he could continue, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "you weren't wearing your engagement ring, when you were out with your friends and then that post you posted on your instagram, people took notice of that and they were all like 'why isn't she wearing her ring' and 'did they break up' and there were some hate comments too. i reported them, by the way. and then, i don't know, i just kinda got into too much overthinking and just made myself upset over nothing and i ignored you and you went back when it was so clear you just wanted to talk to me and i feel — "

he was interrupted by a kiss.

y/n kissed in the middle of his rambling, pulling him closer with the front of his t-shirt while one of her hands rested on his cheek. a surprised noise left lewis' mouth before he melted into the kiss, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss.

y/n pulled away, making lewis chase her lips once again and she gave him another soft kiss before pulling back fully and looking at him with a soft smile.

"do you not like the ring?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, making y/n furrow her eyebrows.

"what?"

"do you not like the ring?" lewis repeated himself, sitting up slightly. "because if so, i can get you another one and this time you can come with me. i chose that one all by myself and i wasn't even really sure about it being 'you' because your style literally changes every week and i can totally understand if you don't like it like — that's totally valid and i'm sure — "

"oh, my god," y/n sat up straight, folding legs under her as she looked at her fiancé. "you think i don't like the ring?"

"... yeah."

"lewis," y/n dragged out the 's', standing up from the bed and rapidly moving towards her dresser, opening a small box and pulling out her ring, her engagement ring. "this the most beautiful ring i have ever seen in my life."

and it was, really. it had intricate patterns throughout the band, with a giant diamond sitting in the middle with several diamonds surrounding it. and what made it even more special was the fact that lewis had his initials, along with hers engraved on the inside of the ring. that's what made y/n fall in love with it.

"really?" lewis asked hopefully from the bed, watching her make her towards his side of the bed. she sat down next to him and took his hand in hers, the ring still clutched in her free hand.

"but that ring is not the reason i said yes, you know that, right? like, you could ask me to marry you with a ring made out of tissue paper and foil and i would still end up saying yes," y/n whispered, leaning in closer and placing a soft kiss on his lips before she gave him the ring and put out her hand for him to slide it on. "as long as it's you asking me that damn question."

lewis chuckled, sliding on the ring onto her ring finger and kissing it. he looked at her, the smile being so genuine that it shone in his eyes and y/n could see him being in love and she knew she was no different from him.

"marry me, will you?" lewis asked again, in the empty room with no one, no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them, a total contrast to when he had first asked the question. even though the answer was already yes, he couldn't help but ask. just so he could hear it one more time.

"only because you asked so nicely," y/n teased him, making lewis chuckle before he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

no shining lights, no crowd standing there applauding, no extravagant arrangement of flowers, just them.

yet, somehow, this managed to be even more special than that one.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

y/n wasn't there when lewis woke up, just a post it note, along with a small box on her side of the bed saying that she was called to her office a bit early and wouldn't be home until late afternoon.

lewis smiled as he looked at the numerous hearts drawn on the note. he kept the note aside, mentally noting that he would have to add it to his collection of notes he had received from y/n throughout the course of their relationship. he took the box and opened it, his face scrunched up in confusion before he smiled, a laugh leaving him as he took out the contents of the box.

it was a paper ring.

the most simple thing yet he knew he would choose this over a million something diamond ring. a small heart on the top with the ridges along the band, it was perfect.

there was another note attached to it, just one simple line and it had lewis smiling for the rest of the day

'i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings ♡'

yeah, he made the right choice marrying her.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 862,926 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings 💌

tagged lewishamilton

8,719 comments

username NO ONE'S DOING IT LIKE THEM

username brb crying.

username TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCE IM DEAD

lilymhe gf are u cheating on me ://

-> yourusername NEVER baby he's just a side piece

-> lewishamilton ...

username i see how kind god has been to others 💔💔

username no bc they're so in love i could throw up

charles_leclerc is that why he's been blasting that damn song the whole day

-> lewishamilton it's a great song ❤️

-> yourusername yes it is ❤️

username THE PAPER RINGS THE LOVE LETTER THE SONG IM DECEASED

lewishamilton uh huh that's right darling ❤️

-> yourusername you're the one i want ❤️

lewishamilton loved the ring so much 💍 i love you

-> yourusername im so glad <3 i love you sm

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x female reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton instagram au #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 instagram au #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #fake instagram imagines #fake social media #social media au

[lollytea]

Please, your finale Huntlow thoughts, my liege. We poor peasants beg of you, our bowls are empty and your tables full; if we might have but a crumb of your succulent meal to fill our bellies in these cold December nights.

ASGCDHBDJNK JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OKAY

I got a few asks about this but I guess I'll answer this one cuz it's phrased the funniest. I just wasn't too pressed about giving my Thoughts about finale Huntlow because I am fully a part of the Huntlow hivemind. Like I feel the way everyone else feels. I'm ecstatic, I'm delighted, I'm overwhelmed, I'm emotional, I'm so happy for them, I got everything I could have wanted. I won. We won.

(I HAVE TOO MANY PICS. I'LL RB WITH PART 2)

First of all this scene is so special to me, you have no idea.

It isn't inherently romantic but it's still so sweet and shows how much these two care for each other. Here's Willow, who's spent the last special Atlasing and repressing and refusing to rely on anyone else. But then she had her breakdown in front of Hunter and he realized just how stressed and scared she's been this whole time. She's visibly anxious and upset here, likely worrying up a storm because she hasn't found her Dads yet. And Hunter is right here beside her. He's seen her meltdown, he's felt her pain, he's heard her cry. He knows that Willow is in a fragile state at the moment. He knows she's been holding in a lot. He knows she's scared. I love that he's not only standing by her side and helping her search, but holding her too. It could be that she vocally expressed how worried she was to him, or maybe he just saw it on her face, but he probably placed that hand on her back to comfort her, let her knows he's right here, grounding her. And Willow, who's still learning how to depend on others, is letting him.

The way Hunter lights up when he sees Harvey and Gilbert, thrilled by how happy he knows she's going to be and his soft smile when he points them out to her. And then THIS!

Like Hunter is devastated. He feels alone and out of place here. He really thinks he has nobody. But Willow being happy can still bring a smile to his face. He just loves her so much!!!

And I know I already talked about the grom photo but UGHH!!!

I got a pic in better definition. I'm pretty sure this is Hunter's first grom. So likely a few months after the events of WAD. And it's so cute to think about Hunter and Willow very awkwardly but eagerly navigating a romantic relationship. I love how grabby and flirty Willow looks here, messing with his bowtie. She clearly LOVES the floral suit, thinking he's like the hottest man alive. She needs to smooch him and NOW. Or she's just like "Oh my, what a nice collarbone you have!!" Idk the ambiguity of what exactly Willow is doing here but the vibe and general intentions being very obvious is my favourite part of this pic. You can speculate for years on this. Oh and Hunter's face, I love it so much. His dumb little blush is like an old friend. He's fucking THRILLED that he's getting so much attention from her. He's very excited about where this is going. But he's also like. So nervous he's gonna pass out. But overall he's having the time of his life. Bi rights!

Also epilogue Huntlow....guys....guys epilogue Huntlow....are you guys still listening to me at this point?

God I love this scene. Its so natural and smooth, giving the characters a chance to breathe and exist and providing a glimpse of how they go about their daily lives. It's soft and lighthearted but it establishes so much about where Willow and Hunter are currently at in their relationship. They've been dating for like....3 years at the very least. And they're clearly very happy together!!

The way Willow casually slides on to the scene, giving the impression that she's often dropped in on him while he's working. And why wouldn't she? That's her sweetheart. What if she requires emergency smooches? What then? And of course, there's Hunter beaming at the sight of her. Seems he never gets tired of his girlfriend stopping by to visit. Or maybe he's sick to death of Willow the menace showing up to distract him while he's trying to work and he's just excited about the prospect of Luz's party. Either way, it's an adorable expression.

Something else I love about epilogue Huntlow is how equally distributed the affection is between both of them. Back when FTF dropped I gushed about how sweet it was to see Hunter taking initiative with Willow and the significance of something as simple pressing his backhand against hers during the pinky hold. And God, this sequence here says it all. From what I can tell, as Hunter runs towards her, they both reached out at the same time and linked hands immediately, implying that holding hands has become the automatic gesture for them whenever they meet up. They're in love, you're honor.

I love the huge carefree grins as they skate down the hill (still holding hands). They might have grown a lot since we last saw them but they're still young adults, they still love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff. And even better, they love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff together. All the handholding and fluffy cuteness is wonderful but I also love knowing that they seem to genuinely enjoy just hanging out and spending their youth with each other. Zeno was right, they ARE besties. Who knows how much shit Hunter and Willow get up to together? Being a pair of thrill seeking athletes, it's probably a lot.

This part is just so silly and ridiculous. After they go stumbling, Willow's first instinct is to grab Hunter and hold on for dear life. Her intense scrunched up expression is just so funny. "I will protect you, my love. No big dumb hill is going to harm a hair on your pretty head. Your girl is here." And Hunter barely acknowledging it (it probably happens a lot) because his life is currently flashing before his eyes. GOD they're just such nerds.

Oh and this frame is just SO adorable. The way Willow's hold on him lingers for a moment before he walks towards the grave, Hunter's heart eyes. They're clearly still so soft and touchy with each other. And this is after three years. I know they were insufferable when they started dating as teens.

#toh spoilers #huntlow

[incorrectbatfam]

dickie and jason headcanons pretty please

Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces

They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up

The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"

Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"

Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"

Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"

Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout

Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around

Dick: "Get out of my room"

Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"

Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"

To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face

The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)

And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)

The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it

Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades

Jason: "I was here first!"

Dick: "I was born first!"

Jason: "I was adopted first!"

Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing

When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip

Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League

Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"

When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that

Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen

Jason: "Help me bury this body"

Dick: "Sure"

Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"

Dick: "Will do"

Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"

Dick: "Get it yourself"

When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege

Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it

They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people

They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)

They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it

Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"

Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"

Goon: "I can take care of him"

Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"

#dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #batman #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect dc quotes #dc comics #headcanon #ask #anonymous #tw swearing #tw food mention

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Can't believe it's been so long since I last posted. Hope you guys enjoy this one! As always, if you see any typos... no you didn't

Warnings: Drunk Jake, unprotected p in v sex, cock warming, fingering, hand jobs, doing things we shouldn't in a public place, cussing, partying. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5k

-----------------

Late has already bled into early by the time you manage to spot Jake in the crowd again. His back is to you as he speaks excitedly to someone you’ve never seen before – though there’s a definite chance that Jake hasn’t either (he’s a chatty drunk no matter how well he knows the person). 

Tonight is a celebration of sorts. A celebration of what is to come and what they've already done. With tour on break for the holidays, the Kiszka-Wagner clan had been taking some much needed R&R after such a long and grueling schedule of shows before they have to leave again. The first few days had seen Jake lounging at home, perfectly content to spend his days entirely wrapped up with you. You had binge watched some shows that he’d missed while gone, ordered take out from all the places that he’d been craving, and over all spent almost every minute of the day within each other’s company. 

But Jake is a man who likes action – regardless of how much he enjoys spending time at home with you. After a few weeks of nothing, you can tell that he’s itching to be doing something again. First there had been simple dinner gatherings with your immediate friends and family, then jam sessions with the rest of his brothers that had lasted well into the night, and then finally he’d begged to go to this party tonight. Josh is hosting (no doubt he’s experiencing the very same restlessness that his twin is) and a party hosted by Josh is always a sure fire promise of a fun night. 

So you’d happily agreed and given Jake the go ahead to let loose tonight – party as hard as he wanted for however long he wanted and you would be there to drive him home. His eyes had lit up at your offer before he’d given you a sweet kiss and a murmured thank you before scampering upstairs to call Josh and let him know that you two would be coming. 

But as excited as Jake had been to go out tonight, he’d still periodically found his way back to you, begging you to come join him where the music is the loudest. You’d politely declined him each time, wanting to give him time to spend with his friends and brothers after giving so much of his time to you. You know that his offer is genuine. Jake wants you by his side at all times (he’s a clingy motherfucker even when he’s sober) but you had simply told him you would prefer him to go spend time with everyone else instead. He’d begrudgingly agreed and you’d since been spending your time watching him go from sober to tipsy and finally to actually drunk within the span of the last few hours. You liked watching him like this – smiling and carefree amongst the people that he loves (along with a number of people that you’re pretty sure Josh only invited because he likes a full house). 

But the crowd has dwindled as the early hours of morning approach. It’s nearing 3AM now and only some 15 people remain. You’d been parked in a far corner for the past hour or so but you’re pulled from your spot by Jake calling your name. He, along with Josh, Daniel, and Sam, have made their ways over to the couches and chairs in Josh’s living room and consequently collapsed into them. The core group you like to call them, finding each other to close the night out amongst themselves. There are others still left elsewhere – some faces vaguely familiar and some completely foreign to you, but they’re all far too wrapped up in their own conversations and drunken storytelling to notice that the host and family has moved somewhere else. 

Josh sits in one of the loveseats, one arm lazily thrown around the shoulders of his partner – also suitably drunk, who’s nuzzled into his side. Sam sits in another chair, cheeks flushed and hair a complete mess as he pours himself another drink. You know already that he’d say he’s earned it since he’s spent the night “slaving away” as the party DJ. That leaves Daniel and Jake left to find their seats, Daniel finding his place on one end of the sofa and Jake on the other. You make your way to them – each of the boys exclaiming excitedly at your approach. 

“Y/n!” Josh booms, the sheer loudness of him drowning out the others and startling his poor partner, “Gracing is with her presence at last!” 

You giggle as you make your way to the sofa, eyeing the spot between Jake and Daniel. 

“Now that you all seem to have settled down a bit I thought I would join you.” 

As you make to sit down, Jake’s hands find your hips and guide you instead to sit down on his lap. He sighs contentedly as you surrender to him without a fight, easing down on the tops of his thighs and settling your back into his chest. 

“Hi.” You tell him, twisting as much as you can in his lap to turn and see his face. His cheeks are flushed and a yummy sheen of sweat adorns his neck and temples. Eyes dark and lips looking particularly plump, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Hi there.” He answers back. “Missed you.” 

He smells like alcohol and weed – a combination that seems to have left him feeling particularly touchy as his hands settle themselves possessively on your waist. He’s warm against you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back lulling you into a relaxed state as he falls effortlessly back into the conversation with the rest of the boys. His words rumble in his chest and you take the opportunity to lean your head back into the space between his neck and shoulder. The smell and heat of him sets off some carnal, feral part of your brain and you find heat of your own pooling between your thighs. You ignore the feeling, opting instead to try and focus your mind on the conversation at hand. 

“-and so I told him that he would either have to sleep there or find someone else to take him home because I wasn’t doing it.” Sam’s voice wafts through the air. You’ve got no idea what he’s talking about but you have a sneaking suspicion that he probably isn’t all that sure of what he’s saying either. 

“You’ve always been a little punk ass.” Josh interjects, giggling a little bit at his own words. “Since you came out of the womb.” 

Sam meets him with a scowl. 

“I just learned from the best, actually.” He snarks back, though there’s no real heat behind his words. 

“Don’t talk about Danny like that.” Jake’s rumbling voice interrupts and though you can’t see him, you can hear the grin as he speaks. “He’s a wonderful influence, Samuel.”

Danny laughs heartily, tossing his head back as he does so. Josh smiles like he’s just won a prize and Sam only meets Jake with an eyeroll. 

“I was talking about you two.” He says, pointing between the twins. 

They continue on with their bickering and you do your best to keep up with them. The few remaining guests filter their way out one by one, giving thanks to Josh on their way out. The boy’s conversations weave in and out, jumping from topic to topic as they often do. It's hard to keep up, especially as your focus strays from the conversation to the uncomfortable kink in your back from sitting in this position against Jake’s chest. You shift a little bit, settling down further in his lap to ease the feeling. As you shift, a hiss escapes him and his hands tighten on your hips. 

“Angel.” He whispers, tilting his head down to press his lips closer to your ear. “Careful.” 

You can’t help the way your eyes widen and your core pulses at his tone. His words are rough and ever so slightly slurred. His fingertips dig into the meat of your thighs in a way that makes you dizzy with a sudden want for him to take you right here in front of everyone. 

“Something wrong?” You answer him back, turning your head and capturing his lips with yours. Alcohol and weed and Jake hit your tastebuds and you shift once again in his lap. 

“Something’s hard.” He murmurs against your lips. 

And he is. 

You can feel him now, hot and solid against your ass. It sends your blood boiling and your cunt clenching around nothing. 

You exhale shakily, willing your voice to remain passive and unbothered. 

“Poor baby.” You say, turning back away from him and earning yourself a growl from deep in his chest. 

“Jake stick you with being DD for the night, Y/n?” Daniel asks, causing everyone’s eyes to shift towards you and Jake. You can feel him tense behind you. He’s still rock hard against you and everyone’s eyes on him only serve to make him more excited as he tries to play it cool. 

“I offered.” You answer Danny, dropping your hand onto Jake’s thigh. “Plus, he’s a handful to deal with even when I’m sober.” You squeeze his thigh. “So I figured I’d lay off the alcohol tonight.”

“Oh he’s something alright.” Josh supplies, grinning ear to ear at his brother. You worry suddenly that he knows somehow. Freaky twin thing and all that, especially given the Cheshire smile he shoots your way. But he looks away and back to the others quickly and you dismiss the idea. Freaking twins.

Conversation divulges again and the attention falls from you and Jake. But he’s worked up now and there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily. Sober Jake is a horndog… drunk Jake is damn near insatiable. 

“Play nice.” Jake warns you, his voice just barely loud enough that you can hear it. “Don’t wanna have to punish you.” 

That finally makes your breath stutter and halt in your chest. Jake can feel you still against him and he chuckles. 

So the game begins. 

Wordlessly, you shift your weight and slide your ass across his crotch. Jake bites his lip and his eyes blaze as he watches you settle your rear onto the sofa next to him with an innocent smile. With your legs draped across his hips (still keeping his hard on from being seen by everyone in the room) you’re free now to settle into his side. You’re playing a dangerous game messing with him like this but the new position allows for you to press your calf into the growing bulge beneath his dark jeans and for your hands to settle on his midsection. Deceivingly innocent to others but filled with possibilities to tease him. Jake knows this though, and those dark eyes of his are pinned to you, lust-blown and dangerous as his breathing picks up. 

You look away and do your best to turn your attention back to the group. Jake does the same, but the feeling of his hard dick against your calf is proof enough that he’s still more than distracted. 

As the conversation carries on, you do your best to interject every now and then to at least pretend to be interested. But you’re more interested in taking Jake home and devouring him. But you suppose the waiting will only make the reward sweeter in the end. Jake, for his part, seems to be feeling the very same. His eyes dart to your face periodically, heavy lidded and carrying the weight of how much he wants you right now. But even with the lust coursing through the both of you, he still looks at you whenever he makes a joke (making sure he’s succeeded in making you laugh) and his fingertips absentmindedly drum songs and beats onto your shin. As worked up as he is, his sweetness still seems to outweigh the alcohol in his system. It just makes you want him more. 

Bored with waiting and ready for him to say it’s time to go, you delicately trace your fingers across his midsection. You press your fingertips into the soft flesh of his sides as you keep your eyes trained anywhere but him. Jake cocks his head to look at you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as you shift your leg and rub your calf across him. Half-hard still, his body tenses. His hand finds yours on his belly and he stills it, grip tightening in warning. 

Not satisfied with his reaction, you press your leg down again and this time his spine goes ramrod straight as his hips buck up on their own to meet the feeling. 

That’s one point for you. 

“Why are you trying to start shit?” He murmurs, taking a sip from the glass that he’d just refilled. 

“Because I can.” 

“Because you’re desperate.” The last word comes out as an almost growl. 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not anything.” 

“You think I can’t tell?” He asks you, his head tilted down and gaze trained solely on you. You scan the rest of the group, afraid that they’ll hear whatever filth is about to spill from between his plump lips. Thankfully, they’re all far too engaged with their own conversation to notice what’s going on between you and Jake. “Your cheeks are flushed all pink like they get when you’re horny.” He starts, fingers trailing up from your calf to your thigh. “And you're breathing fast. Like you do when you’re wet.” His fingers go higher still and your thighs clench despite yourself. 

He wins the point this time and you can’t help the little sigh that escapes you. 

“Maybe I’m just tired of waiting.” It’s all you can think to say – the lust fogging your brain and making it impossible for you to come up with a witty retort. You want him. Now. 

“You’re going to have to wait a while longer.” 

“Why?” The question is reminiscent of a young child. Whiny and full of demanding petulance at his refusal to take you home and fuck you this instant. 

“Because someone,” he shifts his hips slightly, “made me rock fucking hard. And I can’t get up like this right now. Not with all them” his eyes dart to the group, “sitting right there.” 

You huff a breath. 

“Please.” 

He hums and places his glass on the table next to you. His own control is cracking under the weight of your heavy gaze (and calf that's teasing his dick relentlessly) and you realize with glee that you've gotten what you wanted. 

“Gentlemen,” he starts, clapping his hands down on your legs and interrupting one of Josh’s long-winded stories. “I think we’re going to call it a night. The missus is getting tired.” He grins at you and you flush even more. 

“Leaving without helping clean up?” Josh demands, extracting himself from his partner’s grip and rising to his feet.

“Oh, always.” Jake answers him, words still slightly slurred. “But you’ve got these fine young gentlemen here to help you.” He gestures to Sam and Danny who both groan but stand up with Josh anyway. 

As they begin busying themselves with picking up glasses and paper plates, you raise your legs from Jake’s lap and stand. He follows you – though he teeters dangerously once he’s on his feet. 

“Easy.” You warn, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him balance. 

“I’m fine.” He laughs, but his steps remind you of a baby deer trying to walk. 

As the two of you make your way outside, you both hiss as the cold of the night hits you. You press yourself further into Jake’s side. As you reach the car – parked all the way by the road, you make to open the passenger door for Jake but he pulls you into a kiss first. 

His tongue plunges into your mouth and he groans as you grant him easy access. Despite the cold, your body thrums with the heat of your arousal. Jake’s hands are sloppy as they caress every inch of you he can get – your sides, your tits, your ass, everything. As you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair he leans his full body weight against you, pressing you into the side of the car and caging you there. You can't quite tell if it's just so he can keep you where he wants you or because he can't stand upright any longer. Either way, wetness floods your panties at the feeling of his body pressing into you. Solid is the only word you can think of to describe him. 

“Jake.” You moan as his lips trail down to your neck, the heat of his mouth a delicious juxtaposition to the frigid wind. He’s relentless, drunkenly nipping and biting at your skin in all the ways he knows you like. “Jake, quit.” You tell him, even though it’s the last thing you want him to do. 

“Why?” The question is muffled by your skin, his lips never leaving your throat. 

“Get in the car. It’s cold as fuck.” 

He pouts but he straightens up and removes himself from you and you ignore the ache in your belly at the loss of contact. Jake’s fingers wrap themselves around the handle of the door but not of the passenger seat. Instead, he opens the door to the back and raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Jake.” 

“Y/n.” His tone matches yours mockingly, his eyes glittering. 

“It’s freezing.” 

“So let’s warm up then.” 

You try to fight it. You know you should. You’re out here where any one of the neighbors could look outside to see what’s happening if they look hard enough. If Josh looks outside and sees your car still here there’s no doubt that he’ll know what’s happening. Sam and Daniel are spending the night and are probably drunk enough that they’re already passed out but who knows if one of them might happen to look out a window. 

But the ache between your legs has grown nearly unbearable and you don’t want to wait any more than Jake does. And as you watch him clumsily climb into the back seat and lean himself back against the opposite door you know that any shred of resistance you had is gone. 

“You’re drunk.” You scold, unwilling to admit defeat even as you climb into the car with him and shut the door behind you. It’s freezing in the car and your teeth chatter slightly as you settle in. 

“Quit fussing.” He tells you, spreading his legs and pulling you in to settle between his thighs. “Don’t wanna have to wait.”

At that – at the pleading, whiny way he says the words, you cave and crash your lips back to his. His hands find your sides again, squeezing possessively. Your own hands find his shoulders as you attack his mouth with yours. The kiss has no real finesse, all teeth and tongue, but it’s perfect. Jake is moaning beneath you with every pass of your tongue and you realize with no small amount of excitement that the alcohol in his system has taken away any ability he had to hold all those noises in. He’s always vocal. But this? This is like Heaven to your ears. 

His hand drops to the waistband of your pants and his fingers dance along the skin there before slipping beneath. His fingers are cold as they graze over your clit through the fabric of your panties. His middle finger presses in, applying just the right amount of pressure as he begins to rub in little circles. You moan loudly into the kiss and his answering groan tells you all that you need to know about how into this he is. 

“You’re soaked.” 

You nod, head falling back and mouth dropping open as he pushes your panties aside and circles your swollen clit even faster. 

“Take these off.” 

You obey, sitting backwards and toeing your shoes off before sliding your pants off your legs. It’s cramped and clunky in the confined area of the car but Jake watches you like it’s still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Your shirt is next, discarded carelessly into the floorboard as you paw at his own shirt, desperate to see more of him. Jake lifts his arms and pulls his short off, the fabric joining your clothes as well. 

No matter how many times you see him like this, you still can’t help but be amazed. He’s glorious before you, all milky skin and soft curves that make you want to bite him. His arms flex as he pushes his jeans down, the strength of his biceps and forearms the perfect balance to the rest of him. Without pausing long enough to think about it, you drop low and sink your teeth into the supple flesh of his side. 

He cries out in answer, arching his back and head falling back with a thud against the window. 

“Y/n. Fuck.” He whines and you take his moment of surprise to palm him through his boxers. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he was hard as a rock. Even through the fabric you can feel the heavy heat of him. 

You trail your mouth down to the waistband, licking along the skin there before grabbing it with your teeth and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free. You sink lower still, intent on enveloping him in the warmth of your mouth but he stops you with a hand in your hair. 

“Wait.” He sighs out breathlessly, causing your eyes to flick to his questioningly. “Not gonna last if you do that.” He grins sheepishly and you laugh. 

“Who’s desperate now?’’ You ask him, echoing back to his taunt from earlier. 

“It’s your fault.” 

With that, he sits up and surges forward, slamming his lips to yours again and pushing you backwards. He settles on top of you, his cock resting against your ass cheek. The movement had taken much effort, his drunken limbs just a little too clumsy for finesse and grace and you both laugh a little as you settle. Finally, he pulls your panties all the way down and you whine as the cool air hits your wet center. 

“Jesus.” He murmurs, those dark eyes of his devouring the sight of you beneath him. “Been waiting for this all night.” 

He sits upwards, gripping his cock in his fist as you spread your legs for him. The car is small, your back shoved into the corner and your head cocked at an odd angle. But none of it matters as he finally slides himself into you. You cry out, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders. His groan is deep and rough as he bottoms out and pauses, allowing you a moment to adjust to the familiar stretch of him. 

“Move.” You beg him, hooking your legs around his hips and using your heels to dig into his ass and pull him closer. 

He plants both hands on either side of you, fingers digging into the leather of the seats as he starts to rock his hips. His brows tip upwards and his eyes fall closed as you clench around him helplessly. 

“So fucking tight.” He slurs, hips snapping into yours deliciously. The air between the two of you is thick – humid and warm enough that the windows have begun to fog up completely. 

“Harder.” You whine and his body trembles and shakes as he tries to follow your command. 

His mouth drops open and a loud moan escapes him as he picks up his pace slightly. His arms tremble where they fight to keep himself up in this position and you giggle softly at him. 

“Switch with me before you fall over.” You urge him before tossing your head back with a moan as his cock brushes against that special spot inside of you. Even drunk off his ass he can still find it with ease. 

“Fine.” He huffs, pulling out of you and settling back into his earlier position with his back against the door. “Sorry.” He mumbles, giving you a drunken little grin. 

“S’okay.” You tell him, climbing over his thighs to straddle him. “Can watch you better this way anyway.” 

He preens a little at that, cheeks flushing a dark red as you grip is cock in your hand and guide the head to your entrance. You sink down and whine as this position allows him to slip even deeper into you than it had before.

You roll your hips and moans punch out of both of you. He always feels so fucking good – but having to wait so long for it tonight has only made it even more rewarding now. His hands grip your ass, kneading into the flesh and guiding your pace. His eyes are half lidden as he watches you and sweat begins to bead at his hairline. The look he’s giving you – hair a mess and mouth dropped open, is a familiar one. It’s one you’ve seen on his face countless times; both as he’s fucked you and as he plays his guitar on stage. It’s enough to have the coil in your belly begin to tighten already. 

“So fuck’n beautiful.” He moans lowly, his eyes pinned to where your tits bounce with each roll of your hips. 

You whine and lean downwards, kissing him roughly as his hips begin to thrust upwards to meet yours. You can tell that he’s losing it beneath you – his focus torn between trying to kiss you and trying to match the rhythm you’ve set. He’s pussy drunk and actually drunk and the thin bit of control he has left is starting to break. 

He uses his grip on your ass to guide you upwards, pressing your breasts into his face. His lips lock around one hard nipple as one hand comes up to palm the other one. He moans louder still, the sound muffled against your tit. The feel of him… he’s everywhere in this cramped car and all of your senses have been completely overtaken with just Jake. 

“Please.” He whines, detaching his mouth from your nipple with a wet pop. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

His teeth dig into his bottom lip, his face contorting in pleasured agony as he holds himself back, waiting for you to finish first. You toss your head back and cry out, his cock hitting your sweet spot as you ride him into oblivion. The noises falling from him are barely human – rough and broken in a way that lets you know that he's completely overtaken with the pleasure of it all. Your orgasm finally hits you, seeming to start at your toes and work its way all the way through you. Your body shakes as you ride it out, walls fluttering and clenching around his cock. Your moans are only interrupted by cries of his name as he fucks you through it before finally your brain manages to come back to reality to take in the sight below you. 

Jake – drunk and fucked out with his eyes pleading up at you. 

“Gonna fucking cum, Y/n.” He thrusts up once, twice, three more times before he’s losing it. His head thrashes and curses fall from his lips like prayers. It goes on forever, his body tensed up and legs shaking on either side of you as he spills his release into you.

Finally, his body relaxes and stills. And his beautiful eyes blink open to look at you. A dopey and satiated smile spreads across his lips. You can feel his cock where it’s still inside you softening, but neither of you really want to move yet. 

“You’re so pretty.” He says with an alcohol-drenched smile. 

“And you’re still very drunk.” You giggle, kissing him softly. 

“I don’t have to be drunk to be able to see that you’re pretty.” He answers with a slight pout. Even inebriated he’s not going to let you run from a compliment. His ability to still recognize those little insecurities that you still have, no matter how much he’s had to drink, makes you smile softly down at him. 

“You’re pretty too.” 

He flushes and opens his mouth to retort but it’s cut off with a hiss as you pull off him. You reach down to grab your phone where it’s been discarded on the floorboard with yours and his clothes and the screen lights up enough to make you squint your eyes.

Two notifications await you. 

Josh 4:27AM

you guys okay? 

Josh 4:34AM

in my driveway?? :( 

You can’t help but laugh at the message before clicking your phone off. The windows have completely fogged up now so there's no denying your guilt to Josh.

As you turn back to face Jake, his eyes have closed and he looks almost asleep. 

“Hey.” You smack his chest and he startles, making you laugh even harder. “Get dressed so we can go home.” 

He groans and sits up, eyes looking glassy but still wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Round two once we get home?”

“If you can stay awake that long.”

“Challenge accepted.” 

--------

If you would like to be added to my taglist you can find it here

tags:

@jakeyt

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

@writingcold

@way-to-go-lad

@sinsofstardust

@jjwasneverhere

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf

@wildbluesorbit

@twistedmelodies

@neverwanttofallasleep

@sunandthemoontwinflames

@clairesjointshurt

@mindastreamofcolours

@hellowgoodbye

@gretasfallingsky

@weightofkiszka

@smoking-jakelane

@gvfmelbourne

@stardust-chordsss

#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Do you know why dogs do that little exhausted sigh when they lie down even when they haven't really done anything that particular day?

I, too, make exhausted little sighs when I flop down and am suddenly extremely comfy!

But, okay, here's what super interesting. I didn't want to just give you a flippant answer, so I started looking up if sighing is a behavior in other species than humans. Because it's always worth keeping an eye out for accidental anthropomorphism. Turns out? The science on sighing is fascinating. Stay tuned for intense nerding out, and maybe a bit more of an answer.

First off, we gotta know what a sigh is.

"The sigh is a deep augmented breath with distinct neurobiological, physiological, and psychological properties that distinguish it from a normal eupneic breath. Sighs are typically triggered by a normal eupneic breath and are followed by a respiratory pause, which is referred to as 'postsigh apnea.'"

In non-jargon, that definition means sighs are a deep breath with a different pattern to it than normal, easy, regular breathing. "Augmented breaths" are frequently used as a synonym for "sighs", and the best definition I found is that "they comprise prolonged inspiration and increased tidal volume followed by a respiratory pause and several seconds of faster breathing. So a longer than normal inhale where you take in more air than normal, then an exhale, and then pause before breathing in again. Oh hey, look, I found a graph!

The graph is super well labeled, but just to be clear: each cycle of the red line is a normal breath, where what's being tracked is the movement of the chest wall. The part where the vertical blue bar is, that's the cycle with a sigh. The red line spikes really high (during inspiration, or breathing in) at that blue patch, and for longer than the normal period of a breath. See how it's almost like two inhales on top of each other - a normal slope and then another upward spike? That's the "augmentation" of the normal breath, almost a double inhale without breathing out in-between. Then, after the red line drops (on the exhale) there's a flat bit. That's the respiratory pause, which the period after the sigh where you wait before you inhale again.

Apparently people have been tracking sighing scientific for like, over 100 years. The first record of it in academic literature was in 1919. And we know some really cool stuff. All humans sigh spontaneously. Even babies sigh! They do it every few minutes, whereas it's less frequent but still pretty regular in adults: one study found about once every five minutes, or twelve sighs an hour.

Okay, but why do we sigh? We only sort of know, because there's a bunch of different things that have to be studied to answer that question. The direct physiological aspect of it is the most well known at this point. You've got lots of little sacs lining your lungs, called alveoli, that facilitate gas transfer from the air you breathe into your blood. They make sure oxygen goes in and carbon dioxide gets breathed out. But sometimes they collapse and deflate, which prevents them from doing their job. When you do a big sigh, the air quantity in your lungs ends up being double that of normal, which inflates them again. So sighing is a way of doing lung maintenance, in a sense.

But there's so much more going on when you sigh than just that! This is the stuff researchers are still working on. They've got some pretty solid conclusions to start, but they're very emphatic that there's a ton more to learn.

Basically, the main hypothesis right now is that sighing functions as a "reset" for your internal state when it's out of balance. People sigh more when they're acutely anxious or stressed, are anticipating a negative outcome like a shock or seeing a negative image, or have chronic anxiety, PTSD, or panic disorders. Higher sigh frequency is also associated with pain: people with chronic low back pain sigh more, and how much they do correlates with how high their pain rating is at the time!

Another aspect of sighing is that it's frequently associated with periods of relief. Studies have noted that people sigh when they're able to relax following tension, like if they're interrupted while trying to do something really mentally taxing, when they finish a task that took a lot of attention for a long time, or if a negative stimulus stops/goes away. The reason behind that is actually thought to be why people sigh so much when they're upset or in pain: sighing doesn't just signal relief, but actually cause it! Some studies have found that people experience a temporary reduction in muscle tension right after a spontaneous sigh. (Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to also happen when you sigh on purpose.)

Sighing is also thought to facilitate behavioral and emotional transitions. The frequency at which someone sighs changes even just when they transition from sitting to lying down. People frequently sigh right before they fall asleep or start to wake up. One study found that people sigh more frequently when they go from a situation of being unable to anticipate what's next to a situation where they know what the outcome will be - regardless of if that outcome is going to be negative or positive! That led the researchers to hypothesize that sighing functions as an emotional reset from states of high internal arousal (a word which here means "the state of feeling awake, activated, and highly reactive to stimuli.") So sighing might not just bring relief when something really intense ends, but it might also help people prepare for upcoming stress.

Basically, researchers think that sighing may contribute to what they call "psychophysiological flexibility." That means that sighing helps keep someone in a physiological and emotional state that matches the situation they're in, and helps the body and mind adapt quickly when something changes. They noted that these types of transitions may involve "anticipatory, activation or recovery responses." In other words: they think spontaneous sighing is relevant not only when you're worried about encountering a leopard in the bush, but when you have to hide from the leopard you tripped over, and then also when you're calming down after the leopard got bored and left.

There's a whole bunch of research left to do about how exactly spontaneous sighs do what they do, but there's also a whole other aspect of the behavior that hasn't really been studied yet: their social function! In humans audible sighing is a salient social signal. (The researchers said the part of the paper addressing this that it is a "lay belief" that sighs have a "communicative function to convey emotions," which makes the whole thing feel like it was written by aliens observing humans from afar). But they did note that sighs for social communications may be totally different from other types of sighs, since the exhalation is often very exaggerated and doesn't always occur in tandem with that "augmented" inhale pattern that spontaneous sighs have.

Okay. So. I've been a nerd forever, but what about doggo sighs? Why do they occur? Obviously, the research doesn't give us a direct answer. The majority of the behavioral / situational research on sighing has been done on people, not animals. But it's pretty well documented lots of animals sigh (it might even be all mammals, I just don't have a citation for that). And some of the studies that have been done on animals indicated that they, too, sigh in relief when negative situations end or unpleasant stimuli go away.

Let's go back to my joke at the beginning of this book I've written. My first instinct was to be like "who doesn't sigh in relaxation when they finally get a chance to rest their bones?" That totally matches what's in the research: getting a chance to rest after activity is often both a behavioral transition and an emotional one, and if there's any physical discomfort being experienced, physical rest is often is a relief.

It seems fairly probable that dogs sigh when they lay down for at least one of those reasons. I can't prove that hypothesis, but it tracks with what the science says so far. The situation you described meets the main identified criteria for sighing: there's the physical transition of laying down, the behavioral/emotional transition of being ready for a period of low/no activity, and the possible relief of pain or discomfort that comes with laying down. We don't have any any evidence (that I was able to find) of species that sigh for other reasons, or sigh in situations that don't meet those criteria. We don't know for sure that this is accurate - this isn't fact, simply my educated guess. But since sighing seems to help muscles relax and relief discomfort, it seems reasonable to me that a good old sigh after the relief of laying down would make the transition to a resting state feel even better.

Sources:

Effects of the hippocampus on the motor expression of augmented breaths

Brainstem activity, apnea, and death during seizures induced by intrahippocampal kainic acid in anaesthetized rats

The Integrative Role of the Sigh in Psychology, Physiology, Pathology, and Neurobiology

Sigh rate during emotional transitions: More evidence for a sigh of relief

The psychophysiology of the sigh: I: The sigh from the physiological perspective

The psychophysiology of the sigh: II: The sigh from the psychological perspective

Affect Arousal

UCLA and Stanford researchers pinpoint origin of sighing reflex in the brain

#science! #dog behavior #sighing #sighs #I want to emphasize this is a hypothesis based on the existing body of research and that I am not an expert in this field #there are times where it is reasonable to look at the existing literature and create theories based on a synthesis of their findings #but this is not something to repeat as known fact #and that differentiation is extremely important in this sort of forum

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

[unseededtoast]

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where  Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together. 

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can. 

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value. 

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush. 

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere. 

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes. 

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace. 

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly. 

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. 

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around. 

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other. 

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face. 

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity. 

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together. 

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #taylor swift #taylor swift inspired

[meetmymouth]

leave the door open...

The dishwasher makes a weird noise as Harry presses the button, and she lets out a sigh, wiping her hands on her joggers much to Harry's dismay. There's a few seconds where they just stare at each other, and he lets out a chuckle, turning behind so he can put the kettle on.

It'd only been six months.

Two months during him on tour that they'd been in a relationship, and four months post tour–and four weeks of living together in his London flat–. She knew him for a few years, having met in New York through mutual friends, including her short-term-girlfriend at the time, so living with him, or being with him hasn't been too different.

She loved it.

They both did, especially now that he was off tour.

They argued over silly things, like who would cook that night, or the temperature of the room, or how she forgets to unload the dishwasher– 'the light tells you when it's done, babe', 'well I don't come in the kitchen and look at the bloody dishwasher so excuse me for forgetting a couple of times, Harry'.

They've never been one of those couples who felt very shy around each other. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that they're both confident in their relationship, and the fact that they're very laid back.

After a night out with her girlfriends couple of weeks ago, she presents a new 'conflict' in their relationship: Farting.

She'd found him sitting in bed after coming in, glasses on as he typed away on his laptop. After a few kisses, cuddles, and a few more kisses, she looks up at him with determination in her eyes.

"What?"

"Why do you never fart around me?"

"What?" Harry had laughed. In fact, she had to wait for him to calm down for more than ten minutes.

Harry had continued, face confused but still chuckling. "Where is this coming from?"

"Michael farted after the third-month mark. So did Nick. And Jen."

"Baby, are you upset that I... don't fart?"

"I'm sure you do!" She'd waved her arms around. "But never around me, Harry. Are you embarassed? Are you not comfortable with me? What is it?"

"You're– baby," he'd held her hands to his chest. "I love you. I guess I just... don't really fart?"

"What?"

"I mean, I might've done it couple of times when we're asleep or rather... when you're asleep. I didn't– why have you never farted around me then, hm?"

And that was it.

They'd laugh about it, and it was over.

It was silly.

Now, though, Harry really enjoyed being 'nasty' around her.

He's such a boy when he farts in bed, under the covers, and threatens to lift up the covers since 'you wanted me to fart so bad'.

Another thing he's been doing lately is, leaving the door ajar when he's in the toilet.

Now, she wouldn't mind if he was just weeing.

Or doing something else– anything else other than... number two.

It's not that she minds it, it's... she's rather confused.

So, with the kettle on, she gets their favourite mugs out, and Harry excuses himself to go to the toilet.

She knows why, because she'd figured his toilet habits out by now.

Every night around this time, he would be in the toilet for about ten minutes.

He goes, not without kissing her on the lips, and she can't help but laugh when she doesn't hear the door shut properly.

Five minutes pass, and she looks at their empty mugs, wanting to pour the water when he's back.

She's about to call for him when he beats her to it.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?" She looks in the direction of the downstairs toilet, as if she would see him.

"I need toilet paper."

"Fuck sake, Harry–" she puts her phone down on the counter, and walks upstairs, and grabs a few before making her way downstairs.

She stops in front of the door.

"Helloooooo," Harry drawls. "I need to wipe my ass."

"Why do you leave the door open like that?" She thinks out loud.

Harry lets out a groan. "Baby give me the toilet paper."

"Ahh, bet it stinks in there, H."

"Come on."

She goes inside, and hands him one.

Can't help but laugh at the sight of him just sitting there, hair messy and forehead extra-shiny.

"Okay," she pauses.

"Okay... I'll wipe my ass now if you just... y'know?" Harry looks up at her.

She realises how vulnerable he is at the moment.

"I could easily punch your dick right now," she murmurs, leaning against the door, and it closes shut with a click.

"You're so– why would you even say that– baby I fucking need to wipe my ass, just leave."

"No, I think this," she lets out a laugh when she notices him opening the toilet paper. "This is a level up in our relationship! I've never been inside the toilet while you poo."

"Farting and now pooing, you're so fucking weird. Okay, I'll–"

They just stare at each other for a moment before Harry lets out a sigh.

"I don't know how to do– please don't look."

"You've never wiped your ass?"

"Babe, what the fuck, of course I have," Harry says, through gritted teeth. "Just never in front of an audience!"

"Why do you leave the door ajar, then, you twat!"

"It makes me feel less lonely when I can properly hear you do things around the flat, for fuck's sake, just–" he moves his hand. "Just don't look."

She laughs, feeling a bit sorry for him. "Okay, I'm sorry, wait– I'll leave. I'm really sorry, I now realise this is... weird," she laughs, and turns around, hand on the door handle.

"No– don't leave."

"What?"

"Ah, fuck, we're so disgusting as a couple," he laughs.

She leans against the door, but her eyes are focused on the tiles.

She waits until she hears the flush.

"I can't believe you wanted to watch me wipe my ass," Harry finds her gaze in the mirror.

"It's not– wow, that sounds so creepy, please don't ever say that. I didn't want to watch you–" she shudders visibly. "Please don't say that, wow."

"Creepy?" He laughs, wiping his hands before he turns to her, and grabs her cheeks, smushing them. "Disgusting more like."

"Okay, please don't kiss me– you just done a huge poo and it's very stuffy in here–"

"Oh, fuck off, get out!"

#inspired by real events................. #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles love on tour #love on tour #harry's house #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry imagine #harry smut #harry styles angst