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realcube · 3 days ago

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CONNECTED!

desc ;; how can two best friends be connected forever?

tws & tags ;; best friend ! atsumu, nsfw, food sharing, vaginal, degredation, praise, impact play, slight daddy kink, breeding kink & begging

it started with an innocent question..

you're sprawled out upon his bed, laying on your stomach and scrolling on your phone, while best friend! atsumu does the same, except he is sat with his back against the headboard, and one of his arms stretched out behind his head, drawing attention to his flexing bicep in his black MSBY t-shirt.

you've spent the majority of the day hanging out, which you rarely get to do because he's so busy with practise and his contract with the jackals. but today was like a blast from the past, as you went on a run through the neighbourhood, talked shit and played videos games for hours like you used to. now you were both tired out and waiting for your delivery from onigiri miya to arrive.

but you were feeling peckish so you had a small bag of chips with you on the bed. plucking another one from the bag, you idly took a bite, and you were about to pop the rest into your mouth until atsumu leaned forward and snatched it right out of your hand and gobbled it up himself.

you gasp in horror, " 'tsumu! gross, you realise i already bit that one?"

atsumu quirked an eyebrow, but didn't avert his gaze from his phone screen. "so?" he grumbled through a mouthful of chip.

you saw his point. the two of you have been friends for so long, since before you could even properly remember. and he's been stealing and eating your food since the very beginning — and vice versa. without a care in the world as to whether the other's saliva was on it or not. usually you're quite weary about other people's germs, but with atsumu it was different since you're so familiar with each other and you know that neither of you have any oral illnesses. so what's the big deal if you eat something that's his mouth has already been on? you've already done so hundreds of times before.

but considering the sheer length of time you've known each other, the situation sparked a query in your mind. "we must share a lot of dna, huh?" you thought aloud.

atsumu halted chewing, and hesitantly looked up at you. "... what?"

"not in a genetic way! i just mean that we've been sharing food for so long. surely some of my dna must have incorporated itself into your system by now. maybe that's why you're so good at volleyball.." you suggested.

atsumu just stared back at you, dumbfounded. while you prattle on.

"i probably don't have as much of your dna in me, since i'm not a greedy food-stealer like you are." you tried to make a comment about his thieving habits, but atsumu seemed to be focussed on the wrong parts.

"that's not fair, is it?" he purrs with a smirk.

"what's not fair?"

"that you've not got any of me in you. like you said. even when we aren't together—"

"like when you are on the other side of the country competing in volleyball tournaments!" you add.

"yeah," he replies softly, "we're not really apart; i've still got a lot of you inside me. 'cos of that chip i just ate." you nod hesitantly in agreement, since he's got a good point but you can tell by the sinister glint in his eye that he's plotting something strange.

"but," he continues, "you've not got any of me in you. so how can we be connected?"

you blink. slowly, you take a chip from the bag and hand it to him. he takes a bite then gives it back to you and allows you to finish it with a smile. as you gulp, you declare profoundly, "there! now you're a part of me too."

atsumu tilts his head in amusement, and leans forward until his lips are mere inches from yours. "i think you can do better then that."

before you can even respond, his lips come crashing down against yours, and he captures you in a heated kiss. you're stiff at first due to this unexpected behaviour from who you thought was your friend, but there's something so addicting about the way his skin feels against yours. you let him guide you and soon you're melting into his touch, allowing your lips to weave together rhythmically, a small moan even slips past your defenses and rumbles against his mouth.

your basically sucking at each other's faces like deprived animals until he yanks himself away and rasps, "want something else inside you? something you can keep, angel?"

the moments after the faintest mewl of 'yes' escapes your mouth was a blur of atsumu lunging off the bed, readying himself at the other end and flipping your skirt up to rip your panties clean off in a matter of seconds. conveniently you were already in the perfect position, laid on your stomach with your ass hanging off the bed. all he really needed to do was spread those pretty legs and fix himself between them.

he rubbed at your folds with his fingers, and relished in your growing wetness. you could hear him groaning and thankfully for him, you couldn't see his obscene expression as his pupiled were stuck to your pussy. "fuck, such a pretty girl. where've you been hiding this?" he bit his lip, the mere sight of your delicious cunt alone was enough to get his cock throbbing his pants.

with no time to waste, he unzips his fly and smears his leaking tip across your hole, lubricating it further with his own precum. then, without warning, he thrusts himself inside your tight hole and gasps at the constricting sensation of your cunt suffocating his length. "damn, knew you'd be tight but— this is— fff.. fuck." he can barely get his words out. his thoughts were scrambled by your sweet walls clamping down on him like there were trying to keep him there.

his hands held onto your waist and his fingers dug into your soft skin. looks like he was giving you scars to keep too. due to his inability to move while your pussy was gripping onto him, your were allowed some time to adjust to his absurd length.

his girth shoved at your sensitive walls and it felt like he was pushing against your stomach too. he was just too much for your insides to handle, but it's not like there was anything he could do about it. plus, it didn't help that the stretch of your cunt to accomodate him was so euphoric and overwhleming, leaving you unable to form any more than a couple of slurred sentences, " 'tsumu, you're so big.. it's too much.."

"just need to take it, baby. i know you can." he reassured you in a low voice. you've never heard him quite so hoarse before; it was only feeding the growing pool of arousal between your thighs. his dick twitched eagerly within you and as soon as he bottomed out, he began to vigoursly thrust into you. piercing into your sopping hole at a rapid speed, despite how your walls desperately clung to him.

"atsumu!" you gasp, arching your back against the mattress as your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you, trying cope with the ecstasy coarsing through you from his thick girth. you weren't certain as to what was going on; a part of you still thought this was all one big overwhelming dream because of how surreal it felt.

you didn't understand what had overcome him. the two of you have been best friends since forever, and yeah, there was maybe a little bit of chemistry and flirtation before he left to join the black jackals, but any lingering feelings were shut down by the distance seperating you. never did you think he'd randomly get up and start frantically rearranging your guts on his bed. but fuck, it was a long time coming, you could feel the pent-up emotions behind each and every brutal thrust into your cunt. amplified by the lewd slapping of his balls against your sticky folds.

still, it confused you as to why he chose now to act on these feelings, and that manifesting through your feeble cries of, "why.. nghh— what're y'doing?" so weak and delicate, if it wasn't for your moans of delight and your hips instinctually rocking against his, atsumu might've thought you wanted him to stop (but that couldn't be any further from the truth.)

"sorry, (y/n).. couldn't— shit, hah, couldn't hold back anymore." he huffed out with his teeth grinding together, lips pulling into a wide smirk as he watches your tits bounce from the force of his cock. "gettin' too old for these games. and you're gettin' too hot for me to— mmph, to not do something 'bout it."

if it wasn't for the fact you were choking on your own moans from the way his length was splitting your poor pussy in half, you would've chuckled at his previous comment. you were both only in your twenties but he was claiming to be 'too old' for games.

but you kinda understood what he meant. being coy and play-flirting was cute in high school, but now it was time for you to come to terms with your feelings and act on them. you couldn't be more relieved that he took action; atsumu's dick working your needy insides was akin to receiving a long awaited massage, and finally undoing an strenuous knot that's been irrating you for ages. years, even.

"please keep going. i need you so fucking bad." you whined.

"drivin' me fucking crazy with this perfect pussy.." his jaw is clenched yet he spits onto his fingers and draws sloppy circles over your clit while he continues to ram into you. however, his pace grows sporadic and begins to faltered with each staggered breath he inhales. his eyes squeeze shut, "shit, angel, what've you done t'me? 'm close already.." his voice trails off, almost like he's losing steam until a final surge of lust-fuelled adrenaline shoots through him.

his eyes shoot open as his hips pick up the pace, piercing into your aching cunt even faster than they were previously, slamming all the way into your cervix repeatedly. "almost there. gonna fill up this little hole with all of me. that's what you want, huh?" deranged ramblings fall from his lips, while his brows are knitted together and his energy is focussed solely on ploughing into you, "you want me to leave a big mess in ya? so you keep apart of me forever. that what you want, slut? my cum dripping out of ya?"

your eyes screw shut at the intense sensation, and you bite down on the blankets in attempt to cope with it all. that is, until he delivers a harsh slap to your ass, which causes you gasp and squeal, "yes, 'tsumu! leave it inside me, please. all of it."

"you sound like such a whore." he chuckles, but only to conceal how badly that turns him on. he knows it's perverted, but there is just something so sexy about hearing his sweet friend beg for it like a desperate slut. it was humorously uncharacteristic. "ask again, baby. let me hear you, scream for daddy."

"i need you to— nghh, fuck! oh my god, i need you to cum in me. pleasee~." you pant, head spinning as he relentlessly pounds into your cunt, not faltering for even a split second. "i want you so bad.."

and that'll do it. your final breathless comment was enough to send him flying over the edge of his climax. one hand gripped your ass while the other held your thigh, and he heaved out a deep sigh as his thick load released from his tip and spurted into the safe confines of your pussy.

the warm sensation spread throughout your insides, like a sticky blanket coating your walls. it was beauitful, and there was no way he was going to let go just yet. not when your cunt was still gripping onto him; he wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

he leaned forward, and pressed gentle kisses across your spine and the nape of your neck, "you did so good.." you could feel him smile against your skin, as he whispered, "can you promise me something, doll?"

"mhm.."

"gonna keep that inside you?"

"of course." you hum, amused that he was still attached to what you were discussing earlier, "now we're connected."

"yeah." he nods, resting his head against your upper back and relaxing his frame against yours, "for a week, at least. then you'll have to visit me in osaka, and we can do this all again."

#atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!

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yungistiny · 3 days ago

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come on, sannie

[ J. WY + C. SAN ]

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summary: in which your boyfriend and his best friend wreck you

warning: bratty dom wooyoung, soft dom san, sub reader, threesome, double penetration, anal, unprotected sex, biting, choking, dirty talk, semi public

genre: smut

pairing: woosan x afab reader

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

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The clock flashed 12:47 AM, but your phone screen stayed dark.

No texts. No calls. No Wooyoung.

You’d waited. Worried. Even tried to convince yourself he was probably just busy with comeback season around the corner. But Wooyoung always let you know. Always. And you had been waiting in his room for hours, Jongho had already comeback home, Hongjoong was still gone but, he was barely ever home.

So when the anxiety curdled into irritation, you grabbed your hoodie and keys and headed for KQ.

The hallways of the company building were mostly dark, the faint buzz of the exit signs guiding you to the one studio still lit. Hongjoong’s. You figured you’d ask him if he saw Wooyoung.

You didn’t knock. Just pushed open the door and stormed in but you didn’t find Hongjoong, instead, your boyfriend spun around in the desk chair, startled at first, then smirking.

“Baby,” Wooyoung said, voice low and way too smug. “You miss me?”

“You didn’t come home,” you snapped, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. “No text, no call. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

His brow arched lazily, head tilting. “I told you yesterday I was going to do a live tonight.”

“Two hours ago. You finished and just… stayed here?”

He spread his hands innocently. “Working on something with San, Hongjoong let us use his studio. Time got away from me.”

You crossed your arms. “You couldn’t text?”

He stood up slowly, hips rolling like a stretch. His oversized white Stussy shirt hung off one shoulder, bleached hair covered by a backwards hat. “Awww, you were worried.”

You glared.

He grinned wider. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“You’re a brat.”

Wooyoung closed the distance, fingers brushing your cheek, his other hand sliding down to grip your hip. “Yeah, but you love this brat.”

You hated that he wasn’t wrong. The moment his lips brushed yours, all that pent up tension twisted into something darker, hotter.

“You gonna yell at me all night,” he murmured, “or are you gonna let me make it up to you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

He kissed you hard, cutting off your words. His mouth was urgent, teasing, and unapologetic, tongue slipping past your lips before you could think. He crowded you backward until your back hit the wall, and his hands found the waistband of your sweats.

“Wooyoung…”

“No talking,” he whispered, already sinking to his knees. “Let me taste how pissed off you are.”

You gasped as he pulled your pants and underwear down in one quick motion, mouth already on your inner thigh, biting just hard enough to sting.

He looked up, lips inches from your center. “I’ve been thinking about this all day…”

And then he dove in.

His tongue was wicked, like always, licking deep and slow before flicking your clit in teasing circles. He moaned against you like he meant it, like the taste of you was something he needed to live.

You nearly buckled, hand flying to his head, tossing his hat off and gripping his hair as he sucked harder. He hummed in approval, fingers sliding inside you, curling just right.

“Fuck… Wooyoung…”

“You gonna come already?” he murmured, pulling back just to taunt. “Didn’t even stretch you out yet.”

You whimpered, and he chuckled, licking up everything he’d made a mess of. “Such a good girl. So fucking wet for me.”

He didn’t let up, pushing you fast toward the edge. When you came, it was loud and desperate, thighs trembling, back arching off the wall. He held you through it, tongue and fingers coaxing every last wave until you sagged against him, shaking.

But he wasn’t done.

He stood, mouth shiny with you, and kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself. Then, without a word, he spun you around, pressed you into the studio desk, and pulled his own sweats down.

“Can’t waste a good orgasm,” he muttered, lining up behind you. “Gotta fuck it in.”

He slid in with one thrust, groaning low in your ear. “Shit…. always so fucking tight.”

Your moan was ragged, hands bracing against the desk as he started to move, rough, deep, wild, and unforgiving. His hand wrapped around your throat, tugging your head back so his lips could graze your ear.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he growled. “Come find me just to get fucked in Hongjoong’s studio?”

You couldn’t even speak, just whimpered, clenching around him.

“Look at you…. taking it so well. Maybe I should stay late more often.”

He was a menace.

His hips snapped harder, dragging broken cries from your throat. He brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing tight circles until your second orgasm ripped through you like lightning. Your legs nearly gave out, but he held you up, chasing his own release.

“Gonna come inside you,” he hissed. “So full of me you won’t even remember why you were mad.”

You barely registered his last thrust before he cursed and spilled inside you, hips stuttering, breath hot against your shoulder. He stayed there, breathing heavy, hands wrapped tight around your waist.

The silence afterward was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of equipment still running in the studio and the sound of your breath finally slowing. Wooyoung didn’t move for a while, just pressed his forehead against your shoulder, lips brushing lazily over your skin in the afterglow.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered, still grinning like he’d just won something.

You didn’t have time to respond before the door opened.

“Hey, Woo…” San stopped dead in his tracks, wide eyes locking onto the scene in front of him.

You, thoroughly wrecked.

Wooyoung, very much still inside you.

San blinked once. “Seriously? You could have warned me!”

Wooyoung just smirked at his best friend, hips grinding down a little, making you whimper involuntarily, which clearly did not help the situation.

“Why so shy, Sannie?” He purred. “You’ve seen worse.”

San’s jaw flexed. “That was an accident.” He snapped, referring to the time he walked in on the two of you back when all the members shared the same dorm.

“Could be a threesome,” Wooyoung said innocently, dragging his fingers down your thigh before giving your ass a light slap. “You’re not gonna leave her like this, are you? Look at her…”

You wanted to melt into the couch cushions and never return. But then you looked at San, how he hadn’t moved, how the bulge in his sweats betrayed exactly how not disgusted he was. How Wooyoung has teased on more than one occasion of wanting to fuck you with his best friend.

“Don’t.” San said lowly, like to himself.

Wooyoung stood up just slightly, still buried deep inside you as he looked at his best friend with that dangerous, bratty smile. “Come on, Sannie,” he teased, voice sugar sweet. “I know you’ve got a little crush on her.”

San’s breath caught, his glare faltering.

Wooyoung leaned in to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your shoulder again, then turned his head to San and murmured, “You wanna know how she tastes?” Before San could answer, Wooyoung pulled your head back, licking into your mouth, messy and indulgent, and when he pulled away, he grabbed San by his shirt and kissed him full on the lips, dragging him into it with all the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You watched, breath hitching, as San groaned against Wooyoung’s mouth, and then climbed onto the small couch Hongjoong had put in there in case he didn’t make it home some nights.

“Fuck it,” San muttered, grabbing you, pulling you away from Wooyoung who slid out of you with a hiss, and kissing you before you could say anything. Rough, a little desperate.

“Fuck, look at you,” San groaned, pulling back just enough to take in the sight, your skin flushed, lips kiss swollen, cum dripping between your thighs.

“Pretty, right?” Wooyoung murmured behind you, already pushing your legs open wider. “She’s so good, Sannie. You don’t even know.”

You shivered as Wooyoung’s hands guided you, maneuvering you onto your knees with your front against San’s chest, his hands helping you balance.

“She’s already so wet,” Wooyoung continued, two fingers sliding through the mess he left behind. “Bet she’d let you do anything.”

“Please…” you whispered, overwhelmed and breathless.

San’s jaw clenched. “Yeah?”

You nodded, and he gripped your face to kiss you again, slower now, more controlled, but still burning with something dark and dangerous under the surface.

Behind you, Wooyoung’s fingers spread you open, letting San watch as he dipped his head and licked into you from behind. You cried out, the sensation raw and overwhelming, and San caught your moan in his mouth.

“W… Woo…”

“Shh,” Your boyfriend hummed, tongue flicking fast, obscene. “Be good for us.”

You felt the smirk against your skin before he sucked on your clit, dragging it between his lips until your legs shook. San’s hand slid down your front, thumb pressing into the base of your throat while he watched you fall apart.

“Shit, she’s perfect,” San muttered, pupils blown wide.

Wooyoung pulled back just enough to spit, rubbing it into you with two fingers before slipping them inside. “She came on my dick already,” he said sweetly. “Think she’s got another in her?”

San growled low in his throat, helping lift you up so you were on his lap, chest to chest. His dick strained against his pants, and you reached between you to tug them down.

“Take what you want,” Your boyfriend’s best friend said, voice dark.

You sank down on him slowly, still slick and sensitive, and the stretch made you moan into his mouth. San’s hands held your waist like he couldn’t believe this was real, like you’d disappear if he let go.

Behind you, Wooyoung kissed the nape of your neck. “Still so full of me,” he murmured. “Bet I could slip right back in.”

You clenched at the idea.

“Oh?” he grinned. “You like that? Stuffed by both of us?”

You couldn’t answer, San thrusted up hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. His eyes stayed on your face, hungry, needy, watching every reaction like he wanted to memorize it.

Wooyoung stroked himself behind you, voice low. “Want me in your ass, baby?”

The way you moaned told him everything.

“You’re filthy,” San rasped, dragging your hips down again. “Fucking perfect.”

Wooyoung slicked himself up by using your own arousal that dripped down your thighs, kissed the curve of your spine, and pressed slow and steady until he breached you, careful but deliberate.

You nearly sobbed from the feeling, San deep inside you, Wooyoung stretching you open around him, both of them moaning at the same time.

“Jesus Christ,” San gasped, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Wooyoung gritted out, thrusting once to bottom out. “You’re taking us so well.”

They moved together as perfectly as they performed onstage, San’s rhythm deep and steady, Wooyoung’s hips stuttering behind you. Their hands were all over you, San’s at your throat and waist, Wooyoung’s gripping your hips, sliding up to grope your breasts still hidden under your shirt.

“Look at you,” Wooyoung panted. “Letting my best friend fuck you while I ruin your ass.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed, wrecked, undone.

“You gonna come like this?” San whispered, licking into your mouth. “All filled up?”

You nodded, frantic.

“Good,” Wooyoung growled. “Come for us.”

The orgasm tore through you, sudden and violent, and your whole body trembled as they fucked you through it. You clenched so hard around them that it dragged San over the edge, swearing as he spilled inside you, mixing with Wooyoung’s own cum that still filled you, and Wooyoung wasn’t far behind himself, finishing with a sharp cry.

For a few moments, all you could hear was breathing, heavy, tangled, stunned.

Your body went limp between them, San cradling your back, Wooyoung stroking lazy patterns down your spine, all of you tangled in sweat, cum, and satisfaction on Hongjoong’s studio couch like a scene out of a fever dream.

The silence was warm, worn in, a little bit sinful.

Then the door opened.

And in stepped Hongjoong.

Armed with an iced Americano and pure judgment.

He stopped. Froze. Blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then closed.

His gaze trailed over the scene. Wooyoung smug, San breathing heavy, your bare legs draped over both of them, a clear and very damning trail of cum drying on your inner thigh and his couch.

Hongjoong let out the loudest, most traumatized noise you’d ever heard.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

San immediately tried to sit up, panicked, failing.

Wooyoung didn’t move. He just gave Hongjoong a lazy, post orgasmic grin, and said, “Hi, Hyung.”

Hongjoong’s soul visibly left his body. “You…. This is my studio! This is where I work! Where I mix vocals! Where I sit!”

You covered your face in pure shame. San looked like he was ready to jump out the window. Wooyoung, on the other hand, was basking in the chaos like it was sunlight.

“We’ll clean up!” he chirped.

“You came on my couch, Woo!”

“One cushion,” he corrected. “And the floor. Maybe the desk.”

“OUT,” Hongjoong snapped, pointing furiously at the door. “ALL OF YOU. I WANT THIS ROOM EXORCISED.”

“You can’t kick me out,” Wooyoung said cheerfully, pulling his hat back on his head. “I work here too.”

“Not anymore, you don’t. You work in hell now. I hope you enjoy it.”

San grabbed your hand, muttering apologies as he scrambled for his pants. You were halfway out the door after pulling your own pants back on before Hongjoong shouted one final time, “And if I ever sit in a suspicious wet spot again, I’m suing all three of you!”

Wooyoung threw a peace sign over his shoulder. “No promises!”

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#THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #san #choi san #san smut #san x reader #woosan #woosan x reader #woosan smut #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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moon-fics · 3 days ago

Note

Hey there! 👋

Can I request a Bob Floyd xreader where the reader loves food, and when they first meet each other (like he walks into a restaurant and see her), she's stuffing her face (not too crazy though) with food cuz she's hungry and she looks up at him with a deer-in-headlights look and he thinks it's adorable but she finds it embarrassing. It's something I would do, and I think it'd be hilarious to read 🙃

Do you even have to ask? I'd write this happily even if you demanded it rudely! Love it!

It's been a long, long day. Work had you up at 5am, and you slept in, so breakfast wasn't an option. You missed lunch because your boss called you into a meeting. Now, it was finally dinner and your friends had made plans with you.

Unfortunately, they weren't there when you arrived. They texted you saying traffic was so bad that they wouldn't make it until an hour later. So, you're stuck with reservations for three with just you there.

You decide not to let your reservation at this fancy restaurant go to waste. You order something off the menu that you cannot pronounce correctly, and decide to just stick with it. The worst thing that could happen is it taste terrible, but you'll eat it anyway.

The universe smiles on you because the food is divine. It's as good as the price, and you're so hungry you basically stuff your face with it. Of course, you keep your manners and wipe your lips after every bite. You're so engrossed in finally eating you don't notice the man at another table staring at you until his friends begin laughing.

You freeze at the realization that they've probably been watching you eat and have been using you for entertainment. You slow your bites and try to recover your dignity. That stops when the man staring at you approaches your table. You're stuck mid-bite when he reaches your table, and all you can do is stare up at him with wide eyes.

"I, uh, I just wanted to say you have really pretty eyes," He says nervously. His glasses fall from his face an inch, and he pushes them back up. You realize he's wearing some sort of uniform, but you aren't sure for which branch. His brown hair is neatly pulled back and cut short. You know there's a base near here, but you barely see anyone in uniform. "That's all. Thank you!" He coughs out.

He's about to scramble back to his table when you swallow your bite and stop him. "Wait, is that why you were staring at me?" You ask firmly. He spins back around with a mortified look.

"You noticed?" He sounds surprised. As if he were somehow being the sneakiest man in the world, and assumed you didn't even notice him. "No, that wasn't- I mean, yes, I was staring because you're beautiful. It was also because my friends kept telling me to approach you," He admits.

You glance past him to see his friends with wide smiles. One of them gives you a thumbs up, and it's almost laughable. This is such a romcom type of thing to happen, and yet it's happening to you. You return your focus to him.

"So, you were just going to say I look beautiful and leave?" You rest your head on your hand. Did he even think this encounter through? What did he even want to gain from it other than saying he told you? "I mean, it's nice, but usually guys ask for a number or social." You point out.

"Yeah, I was going to ask. You just looked busy with your food, and I really didn't want to be the guy who randomly asks women for their numbers." He mumbles. You feel bad for him because he clearly wants to talk to you, but he has no idea how. He probably faces dangers regularly, but this is anxiety-inducing for him.

"Ok, so why don't you join me?" You suggest while gesturing to one of the empty chairs at your table. "You seem sweet, and it would be nice not to eat alone." He nods at your proposal and pulls out the chair across from you.

You spend the rest of the night talking and learning about each other. He's a lieutenant in the Navy and a back seater. It's much more interesting than your job, so that takes away the need to bring up your terrible day. With every new topic, his eyes light up and his lips grow into a wider smile. The more time he's with you, the better he feels about approaching your table. He doesn't want the night to end and he'll make sure to thank his friends for forcing him over here.

By the end of the conversation, he offers to pay for your meal and even asks if you want dessert. You're surprised at how much of a gentleman he is, but you don't let him pay.

"So, Bob, is this more than you expected to get from saying I was pretty?" You ask as you both exit the restaurant. The mood has shifted to a more playful atmosphere. It's much better than the awkward tense one you had when first meeting.

"I said your eyes were pretty," He corrects with an amused tone. "But after spending time with you, I'd say you were more than just gorgeous." His words make your heart race. You haven't had a man act this way towards you in a long time, and suddenly he appears while you're eating food like an animal. It's humiliating and satisfying at the same time.

"Well, you'll just have to call me for more time then." You wink. It doesn't dawn on you that he doesn't have your number. It doesn't hit him either.

You only realize when you get home and check your phone. The amount of screams you unleash into your pillow is too many. There's no way you'd run into him again. You don't even know how long he'll be in the area. Your luck ran out and you're paying for it.

It hasn't even been two days, and you've found him. Somehow, somewhere in the cosmos, a star is fond of you. You're staring at him from across the coffee shop. He's already gotten his order, and he's about to leave. You can either let him go and get your breakfast, or risk not eating this morning to stop him.

You'll just have to starve because you don't even get to consider the choice before you're grabbing his arm. He's a lot firmer than you thought, and it catches you off guard.

His head snaps to you, and his surprise changes to relief instantly. "I don't have your number!" He blurts out. The first thing he thought about when seeing you was the reason he never reached out.

"I know!" You laugh. "I forgot to give it to you. I didn't think I'd see you again, so when I did, I didn't want to lose you," You explain. You let go of his arm and hide both behind your back. Now, it's your turn to be timid.

"I-I carried around mine on a card in case I saw you," He confesses. He pulls out his wallet and shows you a ripped-out notebook paper with his number on it. Next to it was your name with a tiny heart next to it.

#bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fluff #top gun x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #lewis pullman

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dazedantics · 1 day ago

Text

Mark knows there's a lot that happens in hangouts that he isn't aware of.

He knows you might end up talking behind his back once he leaves for the night, that you might over-share some worryingly traumatic story, that you might gush about situationships you were currently in.

Sure, he might not be comfortable with everything you mentioned - who wants to hear their crush talking about all that? But he wasn't gonna be a troublesome guest. No, he was gonna sit there against the wall, smile and nod as you animatedly explained a story to William.

"Yeah, and like, they literally ditched me in the rain. I didn't even get to enjoy a good meal. They picked the worst restaurant. Missed that first red flag."

William hummed in agreeance, typing away on his phone. "I tried to tell you."

You busied yourself with a piece of tape, sitting right in front of Mark. You stuck one piece over his upper lip.

"Yeah, uhm, I'll never doubt your judgement again."

Then a second piece over his lower lip.

Okay, weird? He was just listening politely, had he offended you somehow? Had he forgotten his chapstick again. Was he really that annoying without opening his mouth?

"One hundred percent going to you as soon as I start talking to someone next time."

"And it's been how many years since you've been telling me that?" William scoffed now looking up.

You laughed. "Wow, okay. It's not my fault you're Mister popular, too busy helping other people's problems."

"Yeah, maybe. But just dealing with you and Mark? Being therapist/counselor/everything else is my full time job. Just for you guys not to listen!? I'm gonna start charging you."

You laugh again, putting the tape roll down before looking at Mark.

"Man, not even a discount for your favorite people?"

Then you kissed him.

"You know what though?"

You kissed him.

"You probably could make a mint, cause most of your advice is good."

You kissed him.

And William didn't even seem shocked by it!

Then you ripped the tape off like it was nothing.

Mark jumped, rubbing his lips. "Y/N what-!"

He cut himself off, clearing his throat to lower his voice down to its regular pitch.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Was he alright? Was this a dream? This was weird right? Why was no one else thrown off by this?

"Y-you kissed me!"

"Don't act like you wouldn't kiss someone you thought was hot!" You defended. "And besides," you held up the strips of tape. "If you think about it, I didn't technically kiss you. Your girlfriend will be fine."

Mark was reeling but you just went on to cuddle against William's side.

"William! Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you think that's weird?"

"You're making a big deal out of this, Mark." William hugged you closer, adjusting his phone so you could watch with him.

"I- what? William!"

What on earth?

"Listen, Mark, I cannot fault them if they learned from the master."

"William!"

#you guys ever witness something like that #Invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #william clockwell

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chara-cat5 · 2 days ago

Text

lads college au

meeting the boys

this is a college au in a normal modern universe (ours). not gonna change their unnatural features (purple hair, red eyes)but theres no evols or what not. trying to keep it gender neural but fem leaning. at the very least afab mc/reader.

caleb- childhood friends separated at early in age. getting his basics before pilot school.

it was on the way to class, when you're already gonna be late and in a rush. "shit shit shit, he's gonna lock the door on me!"

iconically, rounding a corner and slamming into a firm chest, landing right on your ass with a soft grunt. looking up, you're met with purple eyes that reflect your surprise.

"jesus- are you okay? sorry about that."

your gratefully take his outstretched hands,noticing his tilted head as he takes in your appearance. wait, those purple eyes...

"pipsqueak?"-"caleb?"

your words overlap, speaking at the same time, a bright smile breaking out over his lips.

"yooooo, it is you! it's been ages!"

back when you were kids, caleb was your neighbor, a nice boy who wouldn't just push you away cause you were younger or more feminine. he'd smile and laugh as you trudged along with him through the woods or climbed playground equipment. he'd always keep an eye out for you and you'd return the favor by sharing treats or pressing hello kitty bandaids to his knees. it was great, growing up for the first few years with him before you had to move before middle school.

back to his dopey grin, you see that he's grown quite a bit taller since then... remembering yourself, your face pales as you remember your class, grabbing your bag from the ground as you pull away.

"can't talk. late to class! nice seeing you caleb!"

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

zayne- academic rivals? project partners. going to be doctor obviously.

you padded into the library, brain already coming up with ideas for the project. it was a partner assigned project, and you could only pray that your partner was at least a little capable. with a huff, you moved toward the best table in the library. it was partly tucked away so no many people would look over but gave a perfect view of the rest of the room.

"then i can spot when this 'zayne' comes in."

your mumbled words were to yourself, but a dark haired boy already sitting at your table heard them.

"... would that that make you my partner then?"

you blinked at him before hesitantly putting your bag on the table.

"are you... are you zayne?"

he nodded, his hazel eyes already darting back to his laptop.

"that would be me, yes. now that you've arrived, we can start planning out this project. i expect you to do your half and do it well. my grad won't suffer because of you."

this boy.

"then we're on the same page because i will be expecting the same from you."

your smile was strained as you pulled out your own laptop, not meeting his gaze as he watched you. he seemed unbothered by your passive aggressive tone, quickly going back to typing on his computer.

"did you have any ideas for the project?"

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

sylus- is he going to college? if so, business major probably.

it was after class and nothing hit better then a nice cold dr pepper, so of course you took a moment at the vending machine on the way between the school and your dorm. okay, maybe on the way was a stretch, but walking is good for you, maybe... or maybe dr p is just that good- i don't know man. needless to say, when instead of a clear window to the glorious beverage, you saw two hooded redheads, you were a little irritated. that only grew when you realized they had almost all the sodas left from the vending machine in their arms, bags or on the ground.

what. the. fuck.

clenching your jaw, you stalk over, gaze catching one dr pepper in the machine. clearing your throat and putting a forced cheery smile, you tapped one of the boys on the shoulder.

"excuse me, do you mind if i get a soda?"

two pairs of reflected eyes looked over, almost as if they'd been caught.

"uhh...."

"you can buy on from us"

"it'll be 5 bucks."

bullshit. your smile grew strained. what were they doing? trying to hustle you?

"no, i think i'll just get the one from the machine, thank you."

they looked back at each other before standing shoulder to shoulder in front of you, blocking the way from what you wanted. so it's the hard way they want, huh? you really wanna come between a dr pepper fan? they're crazy!

"look, you two either move or i get to show you what a stressed out college student does without caffeine."

your dark tone and gaze gave them pause. the scam wasn't working... without waiting for a response, you pushed between them, shoving your crinkled dollar into the machine. its only after you've gotten your soda that you realize another person has joined the party. he looked older then what were clearly twins, his red eyes and white hair a contrast to his black jacket. narrowing your eyes at him, you sipped your drink.

"are these your friends? be a better influence on them. their scam is shit."

he narrowed his own eyes but his lips tugged up into a smirk.

"apologies kitten, i'll teach better next time."

it's only after you get home that your realize, those guys were shifty... maybe you shouldn't have been passive aggressive with random men.

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xavier- he sleeps in class 💀 he's on law track?? what is hunter equivalent? maybe he doesn't know what he wants yet. seems like the type.

this class was boring. you could admit that- hell, you agreed with the opinion. but, it was required and not only that, it was a difficult class to pass. the professor was strict, wanting perfection and god forbid someone fell asleep... so why was this boy testing fate? a lump of blond hair laid on the table, sitting next to you, soft snores leaving his form. there was no way he'd escape the professor's attention for long, most likely startled awake by him slamming a book by his ear. you wince at the idea, not wanting to hear the loud sound nor see such a sound sleep disturbed.

"maybe i could help?"

you hesitantly open your textbook, propping it up in front pf him, blocking his sleeping form from the professor's view. sure, maybe it was a little suspicious, but it was better then what he had going on before. when class finally ended, you let out a sigh of relief, tucking your laptop in your bag. the professor didn't notice and class had peacefully went on with out the dramatics of a sleeping student. before you could stand up, your text book was held out in front of you. your gaze trailed up to sleepy blue eyes.

"thank you. for covering for me."

as you take the textbook, you nod with a smile, tucking it next to your computer.

"it's no problem really. although, i'd suggest sleeping elsewhere."

he smiles back, standing up and pulling his own bag on his shoulder, yawning.

"yeah, i guess you're right. i'll go sleep in my next class."

as he walked off, you couldn't help but tilt your head.

"why doesn't he just go back to his dorm? he's not paying attention to his classes anyway."

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rafayel- taking art class together. mc/reader sees his work and is like damn?! he's clearly a sweat, okay bub. obviously gonna be an artist. duh

art class is often considered an easy a, but even then, there were more people in this class then you'd think... on second thought, there were more girls in this class then you'd think... the professor assigned everyone to work on drawing a few bottles. not exciting but you need to understand basic shapes before you can do fun stuff. you were working on the assignment, not really paying attention to the world when the other girls got restless. they were whispering among themselves, giggling as a purple haired boy got to work on a painting by the window. half way through the class period, the professor told the students to take a break. while the other students left, you finished up the bottle you were working on. when you happened to look up, you saw that the purple haired boy had wandered off. curious of what he was painting, it was easy to slink over, peeking at the canvas. it wasn't done, but even so, damn was it good! it's not that it was photo realistic, but the colors- the shape language- it was beautiful.

"ahem."

you startled at that, shoulders going stiff as you looked back at the sound. purple hair had his arms crossed as he looked at you, tapping his foot. he paused once blue-pink eyes met yours.

"thats the color..."

he stepped closer, startling you further as you stepped back in response. he stepped past you, diving into his paints and stirring a few colors together. when he held up his tray, they matched the color of your eyes, making you tilt your head.

"... my eyes?"

he nodded, glancing over with a smile.

"yep. you have the perfect shade i needed. thanks cutie."

you part your lips to speak when the professor walks back in, her gaze going to the two of you.

"i thought i said to take a break. go eat something you two!"

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

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads zayne #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads #lads x reader #lads mc #caleb x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader

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iluvbuckets · 10 hours ago

Note

part 2 of wild thoughts pleaseeeee

literally one my hands and knees begging

i wanna know peace again

wild thoughts part 2

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: it's been almost a year since you last saw paige. you had been trying to deny the tension between you two, but when you find yourself at her wnba draft party, there's no denying that she is much, much more than your little brother's annoying friend.

warnings: a little angsty, mutual pining, teasing of course (wouldn't be my writing without it), begging, fingering, oral, some semi-public, a little edging, bottom!paige, paige is more whiny this time but also kind of a brat

word count: 6.3k

notes: lowkey nervous to post this but here's the highly requested part 2 <3 slightly unedited bc i didn't want to keep y'all waiting any longer

✷✷✷

it had been almost a year since you had seen paige.

after you both changed clothes to make sure you didn’t smell like sex, you both walked down the stairs to join your family in the kitchen. you tried to act like nothing happened–that you had just woken up–but you were having a hard time tearing your eyes away from her red, swollen lips. you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach did flips as you watched her hands move through the air as she spoke, the very same hands with the fingers that were just inside you. you wanted to take her back to your room.

you didn’t, though. not that day, and not for the rest of the week.

she had been a little less subtle about her staring, but nothing really changed. she was still a little awkward when you spoke, would still bring you food and drinks, and would still steal subtle little touches whenever possible, but you didn’t really talk to each other. it was like it never even happened. but that wasn’t the reason you didn’t.

honestly, you didn’t know if you even had a good reason for why you didn’t. maybe it was because if you acknowledged it, it would change everything and you weren’t very good with change. maybe it was because this was a dangerous territory of complicated feelings and emotions you were not ready to confront. you didn’t know, but she didn’t try either. it definitely stung, even though it shouldn’t have, but you tried to push the hypocritical feeling to the back of your mind so you could enjoy the rest of the week.

when you were all getting ready to leave, you gave her a hug about as quick as the one when you greeted her. the look of disappointment on her face was evident, but she managed to disguise it before anyone noticed. you pretended not to. and that was it.

you watched all of her games that season on a livestream. you considered sending a congratulatory text for her big east championship, then again for her national championship, but you didn’t. you figured it would be weird. she obviously didn’t want to hear from you considering she hadn’t made an effort to text you. though, you could imagine she probably felt the same way about you.

still, your mind would wander to thoughts of her at every chance. the way her lips felt on yours, the way she sounded so desperate for you, the way she had came in her pants just because she was pleasing you. you tried to ignore them, you really did, but it felt impossible.

that’s why you were surprised when your dad called to tell you that you were invited to her draft night and the afterparty that would follow it. you knew the invitation was given to you by default, that she was just inviting your family, but it made your heart flip in your chest nonetheless. the way his tone sounded on the phone made it seem like he knew something was up between you two, but you’re sure you were just overthinking the interaction.

you almost told him you were busy, but you knew it would be shitty of you to skip this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the girl who was as important to your family as you are just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.

immediately after hanging up, you had pulled out your laptop to look for a new dress. you told yourself you weren’t trying to impress her, that it didn’t matter what she thought, but who were you fooling? you wanted her to remember, to think about the morning and wonder if it was a mistake that she didn’t reach out, even if you didn’t realize it.

before you knew it, you were boarding the plane to new york. to make it easier, you were flying separately from your family out of omaha while they were flying out of minnesota. you figured you would be wide awake, stressing about seeing her again and going over every possible scenario that could possibly happen, but you slept the entire flight–probably sleep debt from your many, many sleepless nights over the last year.

you didn’t get to see paige beforehand. she was busy with press, getting ready, and saying her goodbyes to her teammates that she was leaving behind. even though your family was a little disappointed, you don’t think you have ever been more relieved in your life. you were putting off seeing her after all this time because you didn’t know what would happen. you didn’t get much rest from her charm though, because you spent most of the day hanging out with her family.

would she pretend nothing happened and interact with you like it didn’t? that was probably best case scenario, honestly.

or would she freeze up and get all awkward, making it obvious that something had happened? that was your worst nightmare.

you hardly slept the night before. you couldn’t even bring yourself to open your phone in fear of accidentally stumbling across one of her many, many edits that are posted to social media, so you ended up just staring up at the ceiling in the dark. the possible scenarios ran through your head at an insane pace, but your eyes just wouldn’t close so you could escape them.

at 8am, you decided you would be nice and bring your brother some of the complimentary hotel breakfast. you didn’t know if you had an appetite to eat it in the first place, but you needed a way to get out all of the buzzing energy from the anticipation of the coming night. you made each of you a waffle, then grabbed two cartons of chocolate milk. you knew he would be able to eat more, but you only had two hands.

“can i ask you something?” he broke the comfortable silence after taking a few bites of his waffle. he was sitting in his bed while you were sitting in the office chair at the desk, picking at your own plate.

“what’s up?” you asked. your heart immediately picked up its pace at the possibility of what he could ask.

“is there something going on between you and paige?”

you almost choked on your food. “no. why do you ask?”

you hoped it wasn’t too obvious how you answered that a little too quickly. the room suddenly felt too small and warm for the two of you to be in there together comfortably, but you knew it would be a little too suspicious if you left or hinted at wanting to exit the conversation.

“she asked me if you were coming,” he said with a knowing look. “i was a little confused why she asked because i don’t know why you wouldn’t. i figured it was probably best to tell her that i didn’t know.”

you nodded, not really knowing what to say without saying something that would be incriminating. he seemed to notice too, but was trying to make you say it without straight up asking. you didn’t really know how to feel about him telling paige that he didn’t know if you were coming. on one hand, you were kind of excited that it would be a surprise. on the other, what if it being a surprise was bad? what if she asked because she was hoping you wouldn’t?

the possibilities had you overthinking the entire summer all over again. you were torn between completely regretting it and wishing it had never happened, and not regretting it at all. you only really regretted the after part, because damn did she give you some good head. when you tried to hook up with someone when you got back home, it didn’t even come close to comparing to her. whether or not it was the head game, the girl giving the head, or a combination of both that made it so unforgettable, in the moment, you weren’t sure.

you even tried filling the void with something a little bit more, to try to push down these sudden feelings for someone you shouldn’t have them for. it was a stupid fling–literally meant nothing to you, a classic situationship. she was blonde, like paige, but a little shorter. she would tell you everything you wanted to hear, she just wasn’t the one you wanted to hear it from. you would imagine every touch and every kiss was paige, that she was the one lying next to you.

maybe you shouldn’t even go today. what if your presence just pissed her off and you ruin the night?

“look, i know something happened last summer,” elijah said, his voice dropping. “something had to because she’s been asking about you. i know i used to joke about paige’s crush on you a lot, but now i’m pretty sure it’s more than a joke. i don’t want to lose my best friend because of it.”

a wave of guilt washed over you at his words. you hadn’t really considered how selfish your actions were before. you could easily ruin a 20 year friendship just because you were a little horny one time, and that wasn’t fair to your brother and your family. if it really was something more than one time, what if you broke up? what if it was messy? what if it affected your relationship with your brother?

suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you swallow nervously. “you have nothing to worry about. nothing happened and it never will.”

“okay,” he said, obviously unconvinced with furrowed brows, but didn’t push it. and you were grateful for that.

much to your dismay, the rest of the day flies by. you were hoping it would drag on so you could avoid seeing paige–avoid the feelings and regret. and hopefully avoid ending up in her bed at the end of the night (if she even lets you).

as you sat in the balcony of the event center, all dressed up watching paige’s big night, you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. specifically, when she hugged azzi first when her name was called or really, when she interacted with azzi at all. there was no justifiable reason. you knew azzi, had even met her on more than one occasion, but seeing paige with someone else caused your stomach to burn with a heated jealousy that you had never felt toward her before. they looked good together which made it that much worse.

you were relieved when you noticed that paige kept getting pulled to do media while the other names were being called. it’s the only thing that allowed you to sit through the rest of the actual draft with a fake smile that seemed to convince your parents (but maybe not your brother).

the hardest part would be getting through the afterparty.

this time, there would be opportunities to interact with paige–to accidentally bump into her, or not so accidentally. not only that, but there would be alcohol involved. you were known for having a big mouth while wasted, and for being particularly flirty. and so was she. you knew this, you had seen her say some things she probably shouldn’t and hang off people like they were a teddy bear to her. you had never thought much of it before, but suddenly, the idea of her doing that with someone else made you feel physically ill.

you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way. it was your fault that you were in this position. you knew how she felt, you knew that she wouldn’t have rejected you if you made another move. you knew that she was probably waiting for you to, but you never did. you basically tossed her aside like she had never meant anything to you at all. and you had the audacity to show up tonight after that.

the thought of excusing yourself back to the hotel room with a pitiful excuse about not feeling very well and just skipping the party crossed your mind, but you knew that she would always remember if you didn’t go. when you had an event or party for someone that you didn’t want to attend, your mom always said it might slip their mind that you were there, but they would never forget if you weren’t. and you’ve carried that through life. you almost wish you could forget that so you could, in good conscience, wallow in self-pity in your king-sized hotel bed.

you don’t. of course you don’t. you’re at the wnba draft, invited by the number one pick. how could you miss it?

not only that, but the number one pick in question is paige. not paige bueckers, pb5, the best player on uconn–just paige. not the girl the whole internet was thirsting over, who led the nation in assists to turnovers, the 2025 national champion. it was the girl who, at just nine years old, would trash-talk your dad and grandpa during board games or corn-hole like she could do anything to back it up. the one who would play stupid pranks on you with your brother in the middle of the night to cheer you up after having a bad day. the one who used to come to your volleyball tournaments, despite how long they would get, and cheer the loudest for you no matter how many sets she had watched–attempting to argue with the officials like her word would do any good (like she knew anything about the sport beyond the basics, let’s be real) and almost running on the court every time you did something well.

you owed her the decency to show your support for her, you knew that, no matter the current circumstances of your relationship.

though, you still had to wonder if just a congratulatory text would have sufficed to prevent any possible awkwardness of your presence. you just wish your brother would have said if she asked if you were coming in a hopeful or dreadful tone. it definitely would shape your mood if you knew, and maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you. this night is supposed to celebrate her and her accomplishments–all the adversity she went worked so hard through to get to the place she is now.

the room where the party was felt like a club. there was an open bar in the back and a dj booth in the front playing a mix of requests and paige’s favorite songs. the music was pumping so loud you could feel the floor vibrating beneath you and you wondered if your heart was even beating on its own. which, maybe it wasn’t.

you had been stealthily managing to slip away from paige anytime you two got even close to interacting. you felt guilty about it because you know you should say something to her, to show your support with more than just your silent presence. but you stayed lost in the crowd nursing your cup of whatever your brother had snagged you from the bar. you couldn’t bring yourself to drink the way you thought you would from the sickening nervousness.

still, you had been watching her as she celebrated, her huge grin lit up the room and brought a smile onto everyone’s face. she moved with the confidence you’d expect from the girl who had one of her biggest dreams come true. rightfully so, she was completely wasted. you were surprised she could even hold her eyes open, let alone stand up straight. she deserved it, though. she deserved everything she wanted in life and more.

at some point, you excused yourself to use the bathroom.

when you pushed open the door, you almost jumped out of your skin at the sight in front of you. you realized you hadn’t seen paige in a few minutes, but you didn’t really think much of it. so when your eyes landed on her, standing at the sink washing her hands, you thought your heart stopped. you let the door close behind you, but continued standing there like an idiot, completely forgetting what you even came into the bathroom for.

she looked into the mirror at the sound of the door opening, but she didn’t look as startled as you were. in fact, she smirked and rolled her eyes. you couldn’t tell if it was out of annoyance or surprise, though, and you didn’t know which one you wanted it to be. of course, you didn’t want her to be annoyed with you, but hopefully then she would ignore you and you could avoid a hard conversation.

your prayers weren’t answered when she turned around to lean against the sink, looking you up and down like she couldn’t make up her mind on how to feel.

you broke the silence, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. “congratulations, paige. i’m so, um, proud of you. number one pick is huge,” you say awkwardly.

“you came,” she stated, ignoring you.

you glanced at your feet sheepishly, then walked toward her slowly until you were about an arm’s length away to give her some space.

“well, yeah. why wouldn’t i?” you ask trying to make it sound like she said something stupid, but your voice betrayed you. your tone didn’t hold the confidence it would previously be dripping with before, when you knew you were in control of the situation. this time, you weren’t. she was, and she knew it.

she laughs bitterly, shaking her head and looking down. you get a sudden surge of confidence so you take a step toward her. she looks up, biting her lip when she notices that the way she was leaning meant you were a little taller than her.

“seriously, i’m proud of you,” you mumbled. you traced your pointer finger over the bill of her hat, then boldly grab it, take it off her head, and place it back on backwards. she held her breath, knowing the implications of you flipping her hat. she knew that she wanted to lean forward and kiss you just like she did a year ago, but she also wanted to scream at you–to tell you how much it had hurt when you left like she was nothing but your little brother’s friend. like it didn’t happen.

“you have a funny way of showing it.”

it definitely took you off guard. your breath caught in your throat at her words, trying to collect any ounce of confidence that had been drained out of you in that very moment. you had spent so much time worrying about this happening, yet it was like all the scenarios you had considered were gone and your mind was blank.

you knew what she meant, and she knew you knew, but nonetheless, you made a weak attempt to play dumb. “um, w-what do you mean?”

“you’re avoiding me,” she deadpanned. her expression was completely unamused, like she was tired of this–of you. and you wouldn’t blame her if she was, because you had been running her in circles for years, just assuming she had the stamina to keep up. that she would never want to rest. you couldn’t decide if you were glad that she was at that point or not. you didn’t want to be done with her, but at least it meant you wouldn’t risk tarnishing a relationship that holds itself up just the way it is.

“no, i’m not,” you lie. you try to sound convincing, but it doesn’t quite land. you and her both know that you are, that you would rather be anywhere than standing there having this conversation. you shook your head, “this is your big night. don’t let something so small ruin it.”

she raised her eyebrows, looking at her shoes in disbelief, and she couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice, “ouch.”

you tilt your head sadly, biting the inside of your cheek like it’s a punishment for saying the wrong thing. you didn’t mean it that way–like she meant nothing to you and it was something stupid that just happened. you had meant that in comparison to everything in her life, you were something small.

“i’m sorry. i just meant–” you rush to say, but she interrupts you.

“nah, i get it.” she nodded. you assumed she would walk away and leave you here to regret your choice of words, but she didn’t. she stayed right where she was sitting, just didn’t make eye contact with you. “no hard feelings.”

you shift awkwardly, not really knowing what to say and feeling terrible about yourself. you had a few options that would definitely dig you into a bigger hole, and that was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do right now. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

she finally looked up at you. your heart sank in your chest when you could see that her eyes were glassy from tears threatening to fall. hopefully they didn’t so her gorgeous makeup wouldn’t get ruined.

“paige,” you said gently, hesitantly reaching to place your hand on her arm. you had half a mind to place it on her face or maybe even her neck, but you decided that would probably be too much given the awkward situation you had put yourself in.

she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into your touch either like she had before. “it’s fine, seriously. at least i know where we stand now.”

her words stung, but you deserved it, even if it wasn’t true. even if she was just assuming things that were far from the truth.

“you don’t know,” your voice was no louder than a whisper. if she wasn’t staring at you, she probably wouldn’t have heard you.

“oh yeah?” she asked. something about the tone of her voice was suggestive and flirtatious, or maybe you were imagining things. maybe you were hoping it was so bad that you made it up in your head, which you very well could’ve. it could’ve been the alcohol messing with you–though you don’t think you’ve had enough to warrant that.

her tongue darted out to lick her lips in anticipation, but she didn’t look convinced.

“yes,” you say, your voice breathy. you think about continuing but you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t know where to start.

“really?” she asked, like you were joking. you bit your bottom lip hard, suddenly feeling a little dejected standing next to her. maybe it was the alcohol giving her confidence, but you were shocked when she leaned in so your noses were brushing together. your lips parted, breathing labored as you waited for her to make a move, but things were never easy between the two of you. “what don't i know? i know that we haven’t spoken since we literally fucked at your grandparents’ house while your entire family was home, so i’m not sure what exactly i don’t know.”

you flinch a little at her words. “i know, i’m sorry,” you say quietly. “i thought it would be easier.”

she scoffed, but didn’t pull away. you expected her to have a snarky remark, but she didn’t say anything.

“you’re not just some hookup to me, paige. i just didn’t know what to do. you’re elijah’s paige, not mine,” you add honestly.

“do you want me to be your paige?”

you pause for a moment. you knew the answer, but saying it would change everything. instead, you close the gap between you two and gently press your lips together in a kiss as an answer instead. you figured she wouldn’t kiss you back or would maybe push you away, but she does like she had been waiting for it. it’s soft, slow, and full of the desire that had been building up for the last year.

without disconnecting your lips, you adjusted your position so you were standing in front of her instead of off to the side and placed your hands on either side of her face. she grabs your hips to pull you closer, her thigh unintentionally slotting between your legs. you can feel the heat rush between your legs at the action, but you use all your restraint to not buck your hips.

you couldn’t believe that this is how the night was playing out. you figured that she would either scream at you or blatantly ignore you, not make out with you against a bathroom sink like you hadn’t been ghosting each other for almost a year. you’re glad she is though, of course.

it felt right–like this is exactly where you are supposed to be, where she is supposed to be. the burning feelings between you two were poured into the kiss, making it even more passionate than it was before like a silent declaration. though, the slowness of it quickly turned into something fast, fiery, and impatient. the sounds coming from you two were sloppy and obscene, yet they were successful in turning you on.

“paige,” you practically moan into her mouth. it was definitely an accident, you were intending for it to be more stern and serious. like you meant it. which you did–kind of. “we should stop.”

“no,” she whined, “please.”

“people will wonder where you are,” you laugh.

“fuck, i don’t care,” she murmured. “let them wonder.”

despite her words, you pulled away reluctantly. she took a few moments before she opened her eyes, though they were hooded and still locked on your lips. you moved a hand to her neck, using your thumb to tilt her chin up to look at you.

and fuck, the sight was enough for you to regret pulling away. the way she looked at you almost innocently, like she was yours and yours only. it made you want to push her back into one of the stalls and rip all of her clothes off like this wasn’t a public bathroom.

“someone will see us,” you say. she knew that you were right, that she couldn’t just ditch her own party like that.

“i’ve waited so long for you to fuck me again,” she said boldly, but her tone was still a little whiny. “please, don’t make me wait anymore.”

you stare at her for a moment to genuinely weigh your options. it was kind of late and most of the people here were probably drunk off their ass, so would they really notice either of your absences? maybe they would for paige, but definitely not for you.

“fuck it,” you shrug, grabbing her shirt and pulling her back into a random stall with you. when the door closed behind her, you fumbled clumsily with the lock for a second. something so easy suddenly feeling impossible because of your impatience. one of her hands flew to grip the top of the stall and the other tangled in your hair.

after finally managing to lock it, you wasted absolutely no time before you were unbuttoning her pants and shoving your hand in her underwear. your middle and ring finger circled her entrance, not even wanting to tease her right now.

“you’re so wet already,” you smile, pushing your fingers inside of her. she gasped at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t fight it. “just for me, right?"

she squirmed from the pleasure, lightly clenching around your fingers. “yes, shit, for you. i’m yours.”

she tilted her head back slightly with a loud moan when your fingers curled just the right way inside of her, hitting her spot effortlessly. she swears her knees almost buckled beneath her, but somehow manages to stay upright. your hand instinctively flies to cover her mouth, not wanting someone to hear something and interrupt.

“quiet, paige,” you coo, leaning forward to get closer to her ear. it was difficult because of the slight height difference, but you did your best. “wouldn’t want someone to hear, would you? then we’ll have to stop.”

she shakes her head in agreement, whimpering against your hand. her head falls forward so your foreheads were pressed together. you speed up your pace, using your thumb to circle her clit.

“oh my god,” she whispers, following it with a moan. her hips buck against your hand in untimed moments like she had no control over them. “fuck, no one could fuck me as good as you.”

her praise was going straight between your legs, probably soaking your underwear completely through with desire. when she clenched around your fingers, you quickly pulled them out. an immediate whine at the sudden emptiness left her lips, her hips snapping forward hard from the loss of contact. a mischievous, amused smile rose to your lips at the action, but she didn’t seem to find it as entertaining.

“wait,” she whined. “no, don’t stop. i want to come so bad, please.”

“i don’t know,” your voice trailed off. she opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, the sound of the bathroom door opening made it snap shut. her hand dropped from the top of the stall to be less suspicious.

“paige, are you in here?” the sound of azzi’s voice made paige widen her eyes, knowing that you were right–someone would notice she was gone.

she closed her eyes tight for a second, debating on what to do. “yeah.”

“okay, i just wanted to make sure you were okay,” azzi replied. “no one has seen you in a while.”

“i’ll be out in a second.”

with that, the sound of the door closing had paige sighing in relief. you bit your lip to try to contain your laugh, but she just glared at you and used one hand to lightly shove your shoulder.

“it’s not funny,” she tried to deadpan, but a smile rose to her lips too. there was a slight glint in her eyes when she felt your fingers brush against her stomach. you knew she assumed you were going to touch her again, but instead, you buttoned her pants back up. her lips parted in shock, clearly expecting to get what she wants.

“we better get back out there.”

after reluctantly doing what you say and returning back to the party, you tried to go back to what you were doing before, standing in the corner away from her, but she doesn’t let it happen. she immediately grabs your arm when you go to walk away to yank you toward her again.

the night drags on, paige’s impatience growing by the second. she was determined to make sure that the only way the night was going to end was with you in her bed or her in yours. not that you would argue, anyway, because you had the same plan.

it was obvious how desperate you both were–even more so, her– when the lights came on and the music shut off, and you found yourself being dragged into paige’s fancy hotel room.

she practically slammed your back against the door when it closed, just hard enough that a small oof left your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“you’re such a fucking tease,” she said breathlessly, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. “leaving me hanging like that.”

you smiled smugly against her lips at her attempt to gain control, trying to contain your laugh so she could live in her delusion. she fumbles with your dress, unzipping it and pulling it down your body so you’re only in your bra and underwear. then, she unbuttons her own shirt and throws it haphazardly behind her. her mouth connects to your neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses.

“paige,” you breathe out.

you can practically feel her smile against your skin, pleased with the sound. though as quickly as her reign of dominance began, you quickly put a stop to it. your hands gripped her waist for leverage to shove her away from you. her eyes widened with shock, but you quickly stepped forward to push her back against the bed like she had done to you almost a year ago.

“come on,” she whined, “you couldn’t let me have that one?”

you laughed, your fingers unbuttoning her pants and hooking around the waistband to pull them and her underwear down in one smooth motion. it was enough of an answer to tell her that you absolutely would not. maybe one day, but not today.

“it’s my night, shouldn’t i get what i want?” she tries to plead her case again, moving back to sit against the headboard with her legs bent and curled up in front of her.

“do you want to come?” you ask.

“well,” she starts like she’s going to argue, then realizes she can’t, “yeah…”

you crawl up the bed and grab her legs to part them. “so you are getting what you want.”

she grumbles something that you choose to ignore it to lie down on your stomach, your face settling between her legs. she breathes out shakily when your warm breath fans over her. instead of leaning forward to use your mouth, you reach your hand up and press a thumb firmly against her clit.

“just fuck me, damn,” she says with a bout of confidence stemming from her impatience. you tilt your head with raised eyebrows at her boldness. her eyes widened slightly when she realized that she had said something bratty that could change whether she actually gets what she wants.

“what was that?” you challenged, not moving your thumb but applying more pressure. she tried to move her hips against it, but you placed your other palm over her stomach and held her in place.

“nothing,” she mumbled. “i’m begging you to fuck me right now.”

“i don’t hear any begging,” you replied with furrowed eyebrows, faking confusion. you move your thumb in circles achingly slow, so slow it was practically still. she groans, but resists the urge to roll her eyes as her cheeks flush. “maybe if you ask nicely…”

“please?” she asks, her voice suddenly sounding vulnerable, but you didn’t give in.

“please what?”

“please touch me,” she says with an exasperated tone, clearly frustrated with how much you are making her wait and how long it is taking to just get to it. after the bathroom and the fact that you haven’t seen each other in so long she was sure her virginty grew back, she figured she would’ve at least had one orgasm by now.

“i am touching you,” you replied stubbornly, purposefully playing dumb to get her to spell it out. this time, she did throw her head back in annoyance, making you laugh. you considered pulling away as a punishment for doing so, but you decided to let it slide this time.

she groaned your name. “bruh, you’re so mean to me.” she sounded genuinely annoyed and she probably was by your antics. you knew she wasn’t upset, though, you could tell by how wet she was. against your better judgment for continuing this little game, you leaned forward to lap it up with your tongue. a gasp left her lips at the sudden contact.

“is this what you want?” you asked innocently against her.

“yes.” she grabbed your hair and shamelessly tried to push your face closer to her. you give in, relentlessly swirling your tongue through her folds and over her clit at a pace she definitely didn’t expect, but honestly, you were tired of waiting too.

you had waited almost a whole year to know what she tasted like, to hear her squirming beneath you and moaning like it was the only thing she knew how to do.

“fuck, yes, fuck, feels so good,” she moaned shamelessly loud. you were almost worried about others in the building hearing–almost. “please, don’t stop. i’ve waited for this for so long.”

the feeling was so intense from how sensitive her lack of orgasm earlier had left her, and she could feel herself starting to unravel already. she didn’t want it to stop yet, though, so she did her best to hold it. you try to push your middle finger inside her, but she pushes lightly against your forehead.

“no, no, don’t. i’m gonna come if you do that. i want you to fuck me a little longer,” she said quickly, trying to tell you as fast as possible before she started to come.

if you were expecting her to say anything, it definitely wasn’t that. her words went straight between your legs, so you used the finger you were going to use on her to circle your own clit for a little bit of friction. you moaned at the feeling, your lips vibrating on your clit.

despite her wanting to last a little longer, she lasts only about half a minute before she’s unraveling beneath you. her stomach flexes, causing her to jerk forward at the feeling with pinched eyes and parted lips. you slowed your pace only a little to work her through it.

when she finally starts to come down, her body twitches a few times before she leans back against the headboard again. her chest is heaving and you pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crawl up the bed and lean forward to press a peck against her lips which she barely returns. she smiles a little, letting you know she’s still conscious.

you both know you’ll have to talk about this, but that can wait until later.

#paige bueckers x reader #wlw smut #wcbb x reader #sub!paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic

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strawberrystepmom · 24 hours ago

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rock star!dante x pop star f!reader. cw: overt age gap (20+ years). veryyyy self indulgent, inspired by this au i've been yapping about for weeks. | wc: 1.6k/ reading time: approx. 7 minutes

“It’s not like Dante Sparda of all people is going to dress up to meet me.”

You wish that two hours ago your assistant Patty would’ve warned you to keep those words softer and sweeter in the event of needing to eat them.

“Oh, you have to be kidding,” you mutter to no one in particular when his tall frame rounds the corner that will lead him to the conference room where you wait. “A button down, seriously? I don’t even think he’s worn button downs for half of his Grammy acceptance speeches.”

One measly warning would have made the blow of standing here, casual as you’ve ever been in a summer friendly long skirt and just short of scandalously tight t-shirt with a kitten on it paired with sneakers, less embarrassing. You cast a side eye in your assistant’s direction. She holds her hands up innocently, clearly biting back a smirk, the pair of you watching Dante and his assistant and manager make their way down the floor to ceiling windowed hallway of your shared record company.

“Maybe this is some kind of weird middle aged man power play? You know how they can be.”

Your assistant adds in an attempt to seem helpful, tapping away at her phone to move around the appointments that are going to round out the rest of your day in case this one takes a little too long. The rockstar and his team are already around 10 minutes late, which is already testing your patience, and time is money when you have a million places to be.

You haven’t come this far in your career by wasting time, that’s for sure. Topping the pop charts for nearly two decades takes commitment and sometimes being willing to take a stand for yourself. When he comes in here, you’re going to chide him for wasting your time. He may have a career that began before you were even born but you are a busy woman.

The glass door opens and you turn toward it with folded arms, a brow arched high. A young man who must be Dante’s assistant enters the room with a polite wave and a woman who you recognize as his manager enters second, approaching to kiss each of your cheeks politely. “Always good to see you,” she whispers, familiar with your manager who is employed by the same agency that wasn’t able to attend the meeting today.

And finally, the man himself enters the room with a freakishly handsome grin. All six feet, four inches of unadulterated man steps into your space and smiles down at you, wavy white hair falling over his face.

“Thanks for waiting on us.” He reaches out to shake your hand. You take it without a word, smiling tersely. “I like your, uh, kitten.”

If the floor could open up and swallow you right now that would be great. So not only do you look unprofessional now you’re the butt of the joke about it. Taking a breath, you plaster on your most dazzling for the public smile and decide to play along, pointing at your chest.

“Oh thank you! His name is Whiskers.”

His assistant chuckles. You point at his broad chest and the slightly wrinkled shirt that covers it.

“I like your shirt too but I didn’t realize we were going to be so formal.”

There’s an edge to your riff that Dante picks up on, quirking a brow. “Oh this? I had some interview thing right before I came, that's why we’re late, otherwise I’d probably be wearing a kitten t-shirt too. Don’t worry about it.”

And just like that, he watches your shoulders fall from near your earlobes to their natural position. The wrinkle between your brows smooths out and your smile becomes a touch less rigid.

She’s a little high strung, the man often called a legend notes about you in the back of his mind though it’s more for amusement than it to be incriminating. He’s worked with dozens of people just like you over the years and he knows how to take the lead to ease your mind. This is easy, this is nothing, this is no big deal. The calmer you are, the easier this will be.

Luckily, he’s a pro at playing a pacifier.

“So we’re just waiting on Clara now, right?” You ask, tone far less edgy than it was moments ago.

As if on some kind of sitcom cue, Clara stomps into the room, armed with the clack of her Louboutins and her smart pantsuit, clapping her hands together with a smile.

“God, how lucky am I to get to be in one room with two geniuses?”

Those geniuses?

Dante Sparda, the God. The 51 year old rock and roll legend. A man who has an entire style of playing guitar inspired by the way he passionately picks his own strings. You, the sweetheart who has lit up screens with your smile since you were barely pubescent starting out in a girl group and eventually hitting the ground running solo at 15, landing you squarely at 30 years old with a more than impressive career.

Wearing your usual smile, nodding gratefully in her direction. “Oh, you’re too kind. We’re both grateful you asked us to be here.”

Dante chuckles, nodding along with you. He’s fine with standing back and letting you play the schmoozer if that’s what you want. The six of you stand awkwardly for a moment and Clara makes her way toward the head of the long table that occupies most of the space in the room, the rest of you following suit. Dante pulls the chair next to him out and nods toward it.

“All yours if you want it.”

Nodding, you slip onto the seat and put your hands in your lap. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.”

Dante shrugs and sits down next to you, placing his elbow on the table and propping his head up with his palm.

“You’ll have to get used to me doing that if we’re gonna work together.”

So, this is starkly different from your last collaboration. Clara and your manager hatched an idea for a duet between yourself and an up and coming artist who wouldn’t even stay in the same room as you long enough to have promotional photos taken due to “his schedule”. They had to edit photos of the two of you to make it seem like you were ever around each other.

You work well alone yet the thought of having a collaborator who actually wants to work with you is mighty appealing. Especially someone as talented and respected as the man next to you.

“Alright, no more wasting time. We want the two of you not just a song but the song, for this…”

The flat screen behind the head of the table lights up when Clara presses a button on the bottom of the table. A video starts to play, opening with a black screen and filling gradually into white, empty space. You blink at the screen until you’re surprised by a loud sound that resembles that of an explosion and a tuxedo clad man appears on screen, martini in hand with a knowing smirk.

“So this? This is a spy movie.” Clara looks at the table, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, that spy. Naturally, we want sex appeal and who better to bring it than you two?” The executive points between the two of you, her red painted index finger stopping at Dante. “I mean, he’s the three time Sexiest Man Alive according to People mag,” her finger shifts in your direction. “And you have held a stronghold over the 18-32 year old men demo for almost a decade. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Those shoulders park back up toward your ears, tension evident from your posture. That’s the last demographic you want to be popular with, all too aware they aren’t listening to your music to understand what’s on your heart but this isn’t the time to give an impassioned plea about sexualization.

Sensing your discomfort, Dante slides his hand across the table and leans in toward you with a brow raised. Despite holding your own for as long as you have been, you feel strangely disarmed by him and that charming and easy going nature and further eased by the boyishly mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Whatcha think? Can we manage that?”

You want so badly to be annoyed and to shrug him off yet heat rises in your cheeks, forcing you to look down for a moment seeking composure. Just a single breath, it’s all you need. One passes and you look into Dante’s eyes, avoiding glancing at his smirking mouth lest he get the wrong idea, smiling back at him.

“Yeah. I think we can.”

Maybe you need to be thinking about your reach with the 33-55 year old demographic next.

“Then book it!” He claps excitedly, making Patty jump in her seat on the opposite side of you. Clara claps along with him and the room erupts in cheers, encouraging you to giggle and clap with an unrestrained shrug.

“If sexy is what you want, then sexy is what we’ll give you. Right?”

This is the moment when you notice Dante is staring right at you, thumbing the corner of his own mouth with a smirk.

Familiar heat rises in your cheeks once again and you shrug coquettishly, spinning side to side in your chair. “I’m just along for the ride.”

He chuckles again, a sexy, low rumble in his chest.

“Well, I promise I’ll make it an easy one.”

The chatter of the room picks up around you though it feels totally ignorable when he’s sitting next to you which could prove to be dangerous during this process. Or nothing at all if you choose to ignore that warmth in your face and the blue of his eyes.

#dante x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda x you #kendall writes #danken #pop star au

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 2 days ago

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Infects you with brain worms. Infects you with brain worms. Cmon. Cmon you know you want to write Vampire Bat Stan being afraid of heights and climbing his brother. Cmon you know you want to write Ford using a toothbrush to do the brushie brushie on a sleepy Bat Stan. Bat is only one letter away from cat cMON YOU KNIW YOU COULD. INFECTS YOU WITH BRAIN WORMS INFECTS YOU WITH BRAIN WORMS

I'll do it, but only because i really want to and I heard its your birthday. And I was half tempted anyway.

Someday my tags will get by unseen. Someday.

"So how's this supposed to work," Stan asked, standing in Fords vampire death lab, "Because if it involves yelling anything, I'm out."

"As far as I can tell there's no incantation," Ford said, "All the vampire's I've seen transform just do it."

"Maybe think bat thoughts!" Fiddleford yelled, still on the other side of the lab and in his 'safety bubble' which he'd set up shortly after Stan had been dragged into this whole mess. Since it was only a matter of time before the hunger became too much and Stan lost it, they'd put up several safety precautions so that Fiddleford hopefully wouldn't be his first target. Ford was determined to 'contain' him when that time came, but Stan had exchanged enough glances with Emma-May and Fiddleford to know that they wouldn't hesitate to put him in his permanint grave.

But for now, there was a ring of garlic around Fiddleford, as well as a several silver chains cross-crossed around him. It made Stan hurt just by looking at it, so he tried not to. Stan and Ford were on the other side, in the little area near the door Ford had set up so that Stan had somewhere to hang out down here that didn't make his skin want to crawl off, and kept him out of sight if any townsfolk happened to sneak down here for whatever reason.

Since Stan had dedicated himself to their cause and promised to help either clear out the other vampires surrounding the place or find a way to help the townsfolk outlast them, he'd been working on his 'vampire powers' that Ford said he should have but no one had bothered to tell him about.

Too busy being 'mysterious' and 'edgy' probably.

"What does that mean? Bat thoughts." Stan muttered, "I'm not flapping my hands, if that's what your saying."

"You shouldn't have to," Ford said. His brother was standing a few feet away, somewhat less garlicy than usual and silver lined coat hanging on a nearby chair so he wouldn't burn Stan while he was down here. Stan thought it was stupid, but Ford was dead set on it after they'd brushed arms once and Stan's arm had been seared.

"Like I said," Ford continued, "all the vampires have gone from one form to the other without doing any kind of verbal incantation or movement. Some have done it from standing, others running, jumping, and in one particular case, cartwheel."

Stan groaned, then rubbed his face. That was less than helpful. All of those vampires were probably dead and the secret of tranformation gone with them. And it wasn't like Stan could stick his head out and yell out to the crowd.

"Alright," he shook out his hands, then narrowed his eyes, "Bat thoughts. Just gotta think like a bat... what do bats think about?"

"Blood sucking, i reckon." Fiddleford called out, and Stan shot him a glare. The man ignored him, tinkering away at whatever vampire killing machine he was working on now.

"Maybe think about the act of changing form," Ford said, drawing his attention, "the freedom of movement a smaller form provides, or escape."

"Escape, huh?" Stan could get behind that. Escaping was practically his... blood and blood? Neck and blood? There wasn't a good vampire play on bread on butter, only having one food source.

Whatever.

Stan tried to focus on being smaller, less noticeable, just a small, regular guy. Nothing to see here, just your run of the mill, more natural blood sucker.

Ford let out a gasp, and Stan yelled as the ground disappeared from under him. Quickly opening his eyes, he saw the cold hard floor fast approaching, and tried to bring his arms up to catch himself. Instead two giant black sails jerked down, and he was catapulted back up. All the noise in the room seemed twice as loud, and disorienting him and making it even harder to focus on what he was doing.

"You did it Stanley!" Ford cheered. Stan would have loved to join him, if he wasn't waving his arms around and screaming. Despite now looking like a bat, he didn't fell any kind of natural instinctive way to flap his wings to actually fly like one, and seeing the ground so far below him wasn't helping.

Before he managed to slam himself into a wall or the floor, he was grabbed out the air by a pair of disgusting smelling hands. His entire body fit into the palm of one of them, but his giant wings spilled over the sides. He pulled them in, struggling to figure out how to move everything, then hooked his thumbs around the nearest fingers.

"Hmm. Ford said, suddenly much larger and louder than before, "I didn't realize flying wouldn't come naturally. Something to practice."

"Practice-smactice!" Stan hissed, thankfully still able to talk, "This sucks! In a non-vampire, terrible way! I'm tiny! Why would I ever want to do this?"

"To escape notice, or flee," Ford said, holding his hands up and way to far off the ground, "Now off you go."

Ford jerked his hands up and let go, but Stan wasn't having it. Turning into a bat seemed cool in theory, but actually doing it not so much. The ground seemed twice as terrifying at this size, and his arms were already tired from his mad flapping earlier. Stan clamped his thumbs around Ford's sleeve, then kicked his legs until he found a finger and held on tight.

This felt much more natural than flapping his arms around. He tightened his grip when Ford grunted and started waving his arm, but even as a bat Stan was much stronger than him now, he wasn't coming off unless he wanted to.

"Come now Stanley," Ford said, bringing in his other hand to try and pry him off, "You won't get any better if you don't try."

"Too bad," Stan hissed, holding tighter, "Its not happening. Lets just move onto less horrible, more useful vampire powers."

Ford sighed, but he did stop prying at Stan and instead just held his arm out, "Very well. Change back and we'll move on. You might be able to turn into mist, and there's a few others that might be worth trying."

Stan nodded, then tried to think of... not human, vampire thoughts? His thoughts hadn't really changed much the last year, just got more annoyed by how much unlife was one downside after another, and trying to ignore the gaping pit in his stomach and how dry his throat was all the time.

Regardless, he thought his thoughts, trying to will himself back.

"Stanley," Ford said, giving him an unimpressed look as he continued to hang off his arm, "We can't move on until your back to your original form."

"I know!" Stan replied, using his thumbs to crawl higher up Fords arm so his feet weren't holding Ford's fingers and were instead clutching his sleeve, "I'm trying! Its just that I'm-" Stan smirked, "-winging it here."

Bingo. Fords face twitched as he snorted, then he coughed into his other hand when Fiddleford sighed.

"But seriously," Stan said, squinting at the ground that was still way too far away, "I'm not sure what kind of thoughts scream 'turn back into a vampire'."

"Blood sucking!" Fiddleford yelled, and Stan leaned over so he could glare at him again.

"Not helping!" he called out, then yelled when Ford moved his arms. The one he wasn't holding went up to rub at Ford's chin, while the one Stan was clutching to for dear life crosed under it, squishing him into Fords chest.

From here, he could really hear Fords steady heart beat, strong and powerful, full of delicious untouched blood. He could also smell all the garlic, making him gag and burning his nose as he struggled to free himself from Fords arms.

"Hmm," Ford said, oblivious to Stan's struggles, "Well if escape turns you into a bat, then maybe attack? Try thinking aggressive thoughts."

"Believe me," Stan wheezed, garlic making him dizzy, "I'm thinkin' all kinds of painful thoughts."

Ford finally seemed to realize that maybe holding him so close to his garlic aura was doing more harm than good, and he muttered an apology as he stuck his arm back out. Stan took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head. The garlic smell didn't go away, but it wasn't as bad as before.

"Ugh," Stan coughed, then climbed further up Fords arm so he wouldn't get squished at any unexpected arm movements, "Why'd I want to do this again? You look awful from this angle."

"I believe you said something about wanting to" Stan yelped as Fords arms came up to make quotation marks, making him loose his balance and slide so he was hanging upside down, "'one up those stuck up assholes' by using your shared power set against them. I'm not sure why we started with turning into a bat. It just seemed the right course of action."

"Well," Stan muttered, using his wing thumbs to hook onto Fords shoulder and swing up, "next time I suggest something that involves my feet leaving the ground, remind me of this."

The garlic smell got worse the closer he was to Fords neck, but he'd take it over being swung around like a handbag while Ford talked. He eyed his brothers chest, then wiggled so he could climb down and hang down by his stomach.

"What are you doing," Ford asked, holding a hand out behind him. Hopefully to catch him if he fell, and not to squish him.

"Trying not to get flung off," Stan said, hooking a thumb into the shirt and grabbing it with his weird little legs, "Your whole face makes me want to pass out, so i'm gonna-" another smirk, "-hang out down here."

Stan was bounced slightly by the force of Ford's chuckle. The smell wasn't as bad down here, and the sounds of Fords stomach gurgling and his lungs working helped drown out his heart beat. He jumped when something touched his back, then bent his head backwards to see Fords hand, supporting his weight.

"I see," Stan grunted as Ford started moving, making the shirt and therefore Stan swing slightly, "I'll try to review my notes and accounts of some previous encounters, see if I can find a common trait for you to focus on."

"Sure, sure. Whatever," Stan said, pressing his head into the fabric of Fords shirt, focusing on the sounds of his brother's living body. It was different, being so close, louder.

Warmer.

Stan hadn't felt warm in ages. The closest he'd gotten was not-cold or burning. The heat of the sun was agony, the press of other vampires nothing but more cold corpses. Not even staying down south helped, the air cooling with the setting sun before Stan could enjoy it.

The last time he'd been warm had been the last time he'd lost it, ripping into Rico's men and stealing the warmth from their rapidly cooling bodies.

This wasn't anything like then. It was steady, constant. Not stolen, just the heat of his brother, soaking into him. The pangs of his hunger didn't go away, but it felt soothed, and the dryness of his throat wasn't nearly as demanding.

Stan shoved his face into Fords stomach, pressed his ear as close to his skin as he could, and listened to every beat, every whoosh, ever creak and groan. All the evidence of life he'd forgotten.

All the things he missed. All the proof that being a vampire really was its own form of hell.

"Stanley?" Ford asked, an hour or so later. There wasn't much detail on the hows and whys of vampiric abilities, but he'd gone through what he could fine, along with his own written accounts of the various vampires he'd taken care of since starting down this dark and- well it was lonely at first, but it was hard to claim the title with Fiddleford tinkering several feet away and Emma-May upstairs patrolling, along with all the townsfolk taking shelter in his house.

And the vampire, who was all but snuggling into Ford's stomach. He'd fallen silent some time ago after Ford had grabbed his books and sat down at his hastily cleared desk. He'd thought Stan was focusing on turning back into his original form, but a quick glance showed the half lidded eyes and Stan's wings slumped against him.

His brother made a high-pitched chittering sound, then nuzzled his squished bat face further into Fords shirt. The thumbs clutching the fabric pulled, then slowly eased.

"Stanley," Ford said again, smiling softly. Stan chittered again, sounding annoyed, then kicked his legs until he could grab on a little higher and push his face further into Fords shirt. Ford chuckled, then frowned.

Stan looked innocent and harmless now, but he'd seen blood crazed vampires before, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Stan lost whatever control he had. He'd been making preparations to try and contain and neutralize Stan when that happened, but the thought of what could happen if it didn't work- If Ford was forced to put down his own brother-

It sickened him. Stan shouldn't have to suffer something so terrible.

His thoughts were interrupted by another chitter, and a small eye squinted up at him. Ford chuckled again, then looked around his desk. It was risky putting his hands so close to Stan's head when he was half asleep like this, and the last thing he needed was to be turned by his own sluggish brother. He rummaged around some nearby drawers, then pulled a toothbrush out with a small 'aha'.

He'd stuck a pack down here when people had complained about his smell in the bathroom upstairs, and had resigned himself to doing his morning preparations down here. He made sure to grab a clean one, then looked back down at Stan's squinty, fuzzy head.

He really did look like a bat, down to his squished nose, large ears, and sharp teeth. The only hint that he was more than he appeared was how the fur around his neck was thicker, slightly curled, and gave the impression of a bat with a mullet.

That, and the stillness of his chest, the strength in his tiny digits, the paleness of his wings, and how cold he was. Like a corpse.

Ford brought the bristles of the tooth brush to the bat-mullet, gently brushing it down. Stan's eye narrowed, then closed, and he let out another chitter before settling down. Ford was tempted to pet him, but there was no telling how tempted Stan would be, so the toothbrush would have to do.

"If you get bit," Fiddleford called out, after a few minutes, "I'm not gonna stop Emma-May from staking you."

"I'll be fine," Ford reassured him, "I'm wearing another layer underneath my shirt, his teeth wouldn't be able to pierce it at his normal size."

Fiddleford humphed, and Ford shook his head, going back to brushing Stan's head. He'd have to make the bars of the containment unit smaller, now that Stan knew how to do this. Maybe a silver mesh, so that Stan couldn't slip through the larger bars.

Then... well, Ford was a scientist first, hunter second. If anyone could figure out how to cure a vampire, it was him.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #vampire stan #vampire hunter ford #happy birthday!#Enjoy!

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eunandonly · 1 day ago

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BOYNEXTDOOR WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON THEM

you just feel like home to me, soft and cosy and so very peaceful ─── that my guard started slipping before i even noticed

'𝐸 . boynextdoor + fem. reader 1199 · friends to lovers fluff reactions ୨୧ skinship, unestablished relationship archive

은혜 : this is the first work i'm posting after a good month or so >< i've been so busy with exams and other things but i pulled through and wrote this during a period that freed up during school!! it's not my best work, but i hope you guys still enjoy!! i'll try my best to be more active ~

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

myung jaehyun

jaehyun talks when he’s nervous. which is why your study session has mostly been him filling the silence with scattered thoughts about how unfair the history exam was, how the teacher stole his phone just because his alarm rang and how one of your classmates cheated but he “won’t name names.”

at some point though, he realises that you’ve stopped replying. he glances to his side. you’re slumped slightly forward, your arm bent beneath your head, fast asleep beside your open textbook and notes.

“you’re actually sleeping,” jaehyun mutters, his lips jutting out the slightest bit. “did i bore you that much?”

still, jaehyun shifts, shrugging his hoodie off to gently drape it over your shoulders. he pauses for a second before pulling it snug around you, careful not to wake you before sitting back, blinking down at his untouched question booklet.

he frowns.

“could’ve told me if i was boring you,” he mumbles, but his words don’t have bite. “and i don’t know what these questions mean.”

he doesn’t even pretend to study anymore. he just sits beside you, flipping your pen between his fingers and watching you breathe like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen. you’ll definitely be mad when you wake up to see all the unanswered questions in his book, but that’s a problem for another time.

park sungho

you’ve been holed up at your usual corner booth, textbooks and half finished drinks scattered across the table. sungho’s voice had been the only constant. low, steady, teasing you every so often when you lost focus mid sentence, probably because you hadn’t slept in a good day and a half.

“you always make me carry the conversation,” sungho mutters, nudging your cup closer.

but you didn’t reply. he turns towards you, sarcasm loaded, and then stops cold.

your head is resting on your folded arms, face buried against the sleeve of your sweater. you’re fast asleep, the kind of sleep that only comes after fighting it for way too long.

“seriously?” he mumbles. “you fall asleep on me of all people?”

sungho leans back in the booth, tipping his head against the cushion, and sighs. “you’re lucky i like you,” he says quietly, glancing at your peaceful face.

when your shoulder slumps a little, he instinctively reaches out to steady you, arm looping behind you without thinking. his hand brushes your back once, like he’s checking to see if you’re real. or maybe he’s just making sure you’re still breathing after he saw you take three cans of red bull yesterday afternoon,

lee sanghyuk

you’re both sitting on a park bench after school, your backpacks between you, the sky turning pink and orange with sunset. the conversation had gradually faded into a comfortable kind of silence, only interrupted occasionally by the rustle of the leaves from the tree above you and a chirping of summer birds.

riwoo had noticed your head tilting slowly, your eyes fluttering shut. but he didn’t expect you to actually fall asleep on his shoulder.

he freezes. “wait are you–” he tilts his head slightly and you don’t move. “are you seriously sleeping?”

he can feel your breath against his neck, and for a while, he just stares forward, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

he tries his best not to read into it and fails completely. you murmur something in your sleep–unintelligible–the type of thing he could definitely spin into something he can tease you with.

riwoo pulls his hoodie sleeve over his hand and adjusts your head carefully so you don’t wake up with a nasty neck cramp. he looks away as he does it, face a little red.

“this doesn’t mean i like you or anything,” he mutters.

“okay. maybe a little.”

han dongmin

you’d been whisper bickering over a shared study worksheet, hunched over a table with you pencils and passive aggressive sticky notes, when you energy finally ran out. as it should, that’s what taesan thinks–you’ve been giving his snarky remarks for a good hour now. taesan caught the change in your posture first, how your pen slowed and your head dipping.

he glances over, annoyed, ready to make a cocky comment, only to see you completely out, your cheek resting on your folded arms, dangerously close to his elbow.

“you’re not serious,” he mutters under his breath. “you’re not actually sleeping when he have a project due–”

you shift slightly in your sleep, your knee nudging his under the table. taesan swallows, blinking down at you sleeping and exhales like it physically hurts him.

he sits there for a while, stiff and unblinking before he finally reaches over, so slowly it’s almost ridiculous, and slides his hoodie off to drape it gently over your shoulders.

you stir, but don’t wake. his hoodie’s big on you, and he looks away immediately, jaw clenched and face burning.

when a classmate passes by and sees, raising an eyebrow, taesan mutters about how “it’s not what it looks like.”

kim donghyun

you’d gone up to the school rooftop to escape the cafeteria noise, as usual, leehan in following with two bottles of pocari and that calm look in his eyes.

he notices how your replies start getting shorter, your eyes heavier.

when you nod off beside him, your head gently bumping his shoulder, he almost doesn’t react. leehan just blinks. looks down at you. Blinks again.

then–the faintest smile.

he doesn’t move. doesn’t flinch. he just watches the wind pull a strand of your hair across your cheek and reaches out, brushing it back with the lightest touch.

“you should sleep more,” he murmurs, voice quiet. “not just here.”

his shoulder shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re resting more comfortably. you don’t stir. leehan watches your brows furrow in your sleep, the way the corners of your lips twitch. you look pretty in the summer sunlight.

“i’ll wake you before lunch ends.”

but he never does.

kim woonhak

the game controller slips from your hand mid-match.

“hey, y/n?” woonhak turns, expecting you to be annoyed at his overkill win. instead, he sees you curled up on the couch, face buried against a pillow, your legs tangled in the blanket you’d been fighting over minutes ago.

he blinks. grins.

“seriously?” he whispers.

he carefully sets your controller down, then kneels beside the couch to check if you’re faking. “if this is some kind of trap because i triple headshotted you because i'm just too good–” he leans closer. sees the even rise and fall of your chest. the softness of your expression.

he tugs the blanket over you, then just sits there. watching you sleep. thinking about when exactly the friendship between you two got this comfortable. he also thinks about how well he did in the last match, too bad you fell asleep before he could rub it into your face. then he gets up and tiptoes to the kitchen, returning with your favourite snack. he places it beside you like some kind of offering.

“i’ll eat mine now,” he says quietly. “you can have yours when you wake up.”

he pauses for a second.

“you really should’ve seen my kill just now.”

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rauspberries · 12 hours ago

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BIRTHDAY BLUES!

summary: it's spencer's birthday and you promise to make it perfect. unfortunately, fate has other plans. pairing: spencer reid x reader. tags: afab reader, established relationship [kinda, reader n reid r not dating officially], very soft angst, a lot of comfort, reader is having a no-good-very-bad-day, spencer doesn't rly like his birthday :( word count: 1.6k notes: based off of a request from the excuse prompts <3 not as angsty as probably intended but i thought it'd be silly.

You were supposed to be there. You had promised.

Spencer didn’t even like his birthday. The most he celebrated was blowing out the birthday cake that the team got him every year, leaving the celebration behind as soon as his shift ended and he was able to go home. Every year of his life had been filled with some type of challenge, like the bullies when he went to high school at the age of twelve or the fight it had been to try and fit in at the FBI when he was still young.

But you had promised that you’d be there, at his home, to make something good of his birthday. To start his year off correctly, you had said. There had been wonder in your voice as you had spoken about bringing him some silly balloons to breathe in the helium, or how you’d bake his birthday cake yourself from scratch, leaving his mouth water in a “way he’d never be able to replicate.”

It had actually made him excited. You were his closest friend, his confidante. Of course, your relationship had gotten a bit further than that, unofficially, but he’d always describe you as his friend first, even if every night spent as his apartment was in his bed, wrapped in his arms. It was nice to have someone that even tried to understand his mind, or let him ramble rather than cutting him off as soon as he got into the flow of it. He had taken the day off at your request, spending the day meandering around his apartment and organizing his bookshelves, as if you’d notice. As the hours ticked by, he had let himself get more amped up and excited, busying himself around the house so that everything’d be perfect for the perfect two-person party you had planned for him.

Then seven o’clock had crawled by. Followed by eight o’clock, then nine o’clock. You were now two hours and thirty-six minutes late to the time that you had set. Disappointment and irritation went back-and-forth in his head, an ever-present frown on his face as he paced in front of his couch. He had been stood up before, by girls pretending that they wanted to go on a date with him for a laugh or by so-called friends that found better things to do, however he never would have expected it from you. You seemed so excited. So genuine. He was a profiler, for God’s sake.

At ten o’clock, Spencer runs out of excuses for you and changes out of his nice sweater and pants, sliding on comfortable pajamas instead. At five at minutes past ten o’clock, he’s tucked underneath his duvet, hand curled beneath his cheek as he stares at the wall. Inside his head, he churns through what exactly someone could do in this situation. Proving his age, he decides that the silent treatment is probably best.

It’s twelve minutes past ten o’clock when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, he knows it’s you. He’s always had some sort of sixth sense that told him when you were near. No hair raising on the back of his neck, no heart thumping harder against his rib cage, just a sense, a feeling.

Against his better judgement, he pulls himself out of bed. Admittedly, he fakes a sleepy rub of his knuckles against his eyelid, feigning that he had been asleep. He’s always been a bit childish, never able to shake it. It’s the one thing he clings onto as someone who grew up too fast. There’s never been an innocence to him, a hope for a better day a few days later. All he had left was the stubborn need to put his foot down.

Opening the door, the first thing he sees is the singular balloon in your hand. It floats just a few inches or so above your head, dents in it from the loss of helium over time, the HAPPY BIRTHDAY stamped across the front just slightly withered. For a moment, he allows himself to mentally say some snarky remark about how it clearly encapsulated how he felt.

That is, until he looks at your face. The mascara that you had (no doubt) put on that morning had started to smear beneath your waterline, your lips stained with cherry-red lipstick that had long dissipated throughout the day. Your eyes were half-lidded as you stared up at him, lips pursed as if you were holding back tears.

You don’t even give him a chance to speak before you’re rambling, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Spencer.” Not waiting for him to invite you in, you push past him into his apartment, leaving him to watch you in slight surprise and shut the door slowly.

Fingers shaking, you curl the ribbon of the balloon around the bottom bar of one of his barstools, tying a knot as you continue babbling. “I spent all day trying to bake your cake, but everything just kept going wrong. I found so many recipes online that had good reviews and said they were perfect for knocking people’s socks off, and I just couldn’t do it. I used the entire bag of flour I bought and all I had was multiple cakes that tasted like concrete powder.”

You’re crying now, letting out pitiful sniffles as he watches you with concerned eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he studies – profiles – you. “And then I was going to go get you a cake, because it was already five o’clock, and you deserved a cake, even if it wasn’t handmade like I said. So I went and found the best bakery in the area, but they couldn’t make one today, and you didn’t deserve a pre-bought cake. So I called so many other bakeries until I found one.”

“I went and got the cake and it was perfect. Gorgeous piping along the edges, calligraphy in icing on the top, amazingly decorated. But then I dropped it when I was going into the balloon shop. I couldn’t even make a good cake and then I dropped the perfect one. Straight onto the icing.”

Raising your hands, your fingers push away the tears on your cheeks before squeezing at the roots of your hair. Finally, Spencer concedes in the mental argument he was having with you, stepping forward and gently clasping his hands around your elbow, thumb brushing consoling circles against your bare skin.

It’s like you don’t even notice, sad eyes staring up at him as you continue your story through your hiccups. “So I thought, okay, I’ll go get Spence some balloons. I promised him balloons and he shall get balloons. But then they were out of helium. What party store runs out of helium?” It’s childish, whining about all of the misery that you had gone through that day, sobbing about balloons through your hiccups.

“I got you one balloon. That's all I could get. I thought, whatever. Birthdays don’t just become enjoyable because of the physical things, it’s about the people. I got in my car at six, which means I’d get here early. And then I got a flat tire. I called road assistance, but they couldn’t give me an estimated time that they’d be there. I tried to find a cab, but they all just ignored me and drove away.”

You look pitiful, hiccups interrupting your soft sniffles, tears painting your cheeks. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I swear. I wanted to be here, with you, and give you the best birthday you could ever ask for. You deserved that. I ruined it.” The last words come out as a whimper, which perfectly matches the kicked-puppy look you’ve been sporting since he had opened his door.

Spencer lets out a soft sigh, using the grip on your elbow to pull you into his chest. Immediately, your arms are wrapping around his waist, cheek leaning against him as you sniffle and whine. One of his large hands rubs up and down your spine as he hushes you softly, leaning his own cheek atop your head after pressing a comforting kiss to your hairline.

After you’ve finally calmed, he places his hands on your biceps, pulling away to look at you and raising his eyebrows. “Are you feeling better?”

You respond with a wrinkle of your nose, brow still furrowed. “Are you mad at me?”

“I was,” he answers honestly. “We both have phones, you know.”

A long groan leaves your lips, hands raising to cover your face. “It died, Spence! And my charger did, too! Please don’t make me talk about it anymore, I’ll cry again.” Your fingers splay so you can look up at him, a stray bang falling into your eyes.

He grins as he reaches up to brush the hair away, fingertips brushing against your forehead before he’s grabbing your hands, pulling them away. “You don’t need to worry. I forgave you the moment I saw you at my door.” A slight lie, but it’s okay. Anything to take away even a bit of your current stress.

“I wanted you to have a good birthday.” You murmur, face still contorted into a full-blown pout.

The fingers holding your wrists pull your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles. “We still have about an hour and a half left.” He reminds you gently, an amused smile still playing on his mouth. “You can even spend the night and we can act like midnight never happened.”

Sighing, you lean into him, exhaustion taking over, the product of your absolutely dreadful day. “Can I borrow some sweatpants and show you some really bad reality TV? I’ll even let you talk about whatever book you’re reading now until I fall asleep. Not like those are correlated.”

Finally, a smile sprouts on your face. Any objection that Spencer might’ve had evaporates on his tongue as he nods, placing another kiss to your hairline before giving a soft tug to your hand. “C’mon. Let's get you to bed.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x afab!reader #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds one-shots #criminal minds one-shot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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wonderjanga2 · 2 days ago

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Neglected Figure Skater!Reader x Yan!Batfam

Part 1, Part 2 (here)

TW: None? I’d also like to preface that this reader is gender neutral.

So, it turns out, we aren’t banned.

Instead, we went in front of the council… otherwise known as the U.S. Figure Skating Ethics Committee and they ruled that we were A-Okay! After this ruling we went back to doing our thing: training, competing, and generally living up life.

It was nice…

The Batfam had no idea where one of their batlings was. Specifically, they had no idea where Y/N was. It was like they dropped off the face of the earth! Well, not really, Tim pulled up some security feed from a hotel they were staying at, but still!

After Bruce had seen the news story, he had to take a few moments to process it before he stood up and poured his coffee out. He then called Y/N.

The automated lady told him the number wasn’t in service. (We changed our number after some weirdo kept calling us and professing their love. We forgot to tell the family.) Why didn’t they tell them they changed their number? Was it on purpose? Was it on accident? He put Tim to work on digging up what else his child had done without his knowledge.

In the Batcave, while Bruce was worrying (albeit with a blank face), he watched Damian watch the uncensored clip of that… mutilation over and over again on the Batcomputer.

Was his youngest smiling…?

Meanwhile, Damian was just surprised we had that dog in us. His sibling, more accurate to say roommate if we’re being honest, was always quiet and never around, (We were dedicating all our time to training after our mother died. Damian came about a month after that so we were always busy) so he’d never paid them much mind. Not to mention, they weren’t even a vigilante like the rest of the family and he doubted they knew about the double life they lead too. But to think?

It’s nice to know that his only blood sibling could live up to their blood if they so pleased. If only they tried to more often…

Back with Bruce, he’s still wondering when Y/N even left. How in the world did they get to Metropolis without him knowing? When he checked the credit card he’d practically thrown at them when they were younger so they’d stop bothering him, the charges to his card were so blatant. They didn’t even try to hide their leaving. How were they so sure he wouldn’t be mad at them for this? They were supposed to be in school right no—

Okay, so they weren’t in school. Never mind. Tim just told him they dropped out of school during their sophomore year. (Bruce’s heart shouldn’t have been warmed at the thought of them following the family tradition of either dropping out or being expelled from Gotham Heights.) When did this happen?! How was he not notified of this? How did his child drop out of school without his knowled—

Oh, wait, Tim just told him that he was emailed that the paperwork for that had been finalized they had been an official dropout.

…on the bright side, Tim had found their new phone number, so at least that was good.

Y/N was relaxing, sprawled out on their crappy hotel bed, fiddling with the gold medal on their chest. They had about thirty minutes before they had to leave so they could head back to Gotham , and they really didn’t want to get up. They really, really didn’t want to go back to that house because then they’d have to put their newly acquired medal with the others and it’d never see the light of day again from their little trophy room.

They wanted to just bask in this win a little longer.

Bsst! Bsst!

Their hand moved to their pocket and pulled out their phone. An unknown number was calling them. Should they answer…?

Nah. It’s probably scam.

They hung up.

They hung up?

They hung up!

Why would the—

Oh, Tim told him it probably showed up as an unknown number. That makes sense. Speaking of Tim, he told him that apparently Y/N had booked a trip back home.

Lovely.

When they came back, they would be in the scolding of a lifetime. Dropping out of school (while it still warmed his heart, he still wanted at least two children without GEDs. Now it falls to Damian to graduate without one), not inviting him to competitions (they did, he just wasn’t listening), and going all over the country for said competitions without him knowing (again, they did tell him, he just wasn’t listening)!

Point is, the two of them are going to have a little talk when they finally come home.

#neglected reader #neglected!reader #x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

Note

I cannot help but imagine whenever Leona's boobies get brought up in this blog Miss Raven looming over a desk with a cork board on the wall filled with pictures of Leona that have been zoomed in and cutted out from various photos taken throught the 3 years he's been at NRC, one giant magnifying glass in her hand that is about the size of her head like this is a major crime that needs to be invesitgated with the outmost attention, there are post-it notes everywhere, she's hunched over a table with all the lights out and one lamp on her desk on like she's some sort of noir detective about to make a major break through in a murder mistery case when the real mistery she's investigating is Leona's cup size

(Crowley walks in deciding to be a "good parental figure" for once and have some quality bonding time with miss Raven, he bursts in, and is... kind of worried for miss Raven? Who is always going on about wanting to be a proper lady but is currently displaying very... concerning behaviour, or at least, he's concerned for her, should he try and talk to her? Should he give her a... "parental intervention" of sorts? He's not sure but quickly decides its actually none of his business so he just closes the door and forgets he ever saw anything)

I DON'T TALK ABOUT L*ONA'S BOOBS/FIGURE THAT MUCH, DO I??????? (*quietly checks the last few pages' worth of the #NOT L*ONA ROT tag* ... Um, I can explain--)

xvbjawviwjwsn MISS RAVEN OBSESSED WiTH fiGURINg OUT lROnA’S CUp siZE 💀 (This could easily be avoided if she just threw away her dignity and asked Leona or Rook…) It sounds ridiculous, but I do think she could reasonably fall down that rabbit hole. Not for any thirst-related reason but more like she genuinely doesn’t comprehend it??? And she’s nothing if not curious, so she’ll dedicate herself to research and find an answer.

Her understanding of humans is still quite shaky in some areas, so she’ll sometimes fall back on what is true of birds to try and fill in for her knowledge gap. However, because birds are quite different than humans, that knowledge doesn’t always translate over well. For example, it’s advantageous for birds to have large chest muscles, as this helps them with flight. So in Raven’s mind, big chest muscles = strong flyer she literally believes Leona is good at flying because of his chest. She also associates clothing as being humans’ equivalent to feathers. If an adult bird is featherless, it means they’re sick or stressed out + feather plucking. When she sees people like Leona going around and purposefully exposing their skin, Raven worries that something is wrong 💦

Oh, but… human etiquette stipulates that it’s rude to ask about this kind of thing, right??? Which leaves Raven with only one option left: throwing herself into finding the ✨ truth ✨ I don’t think she would go so far as to do anything that violates Leona’s privacy (like taking unsolicited photos) though. More like… making trips to the library to study up on lion anatomy or on lion beastmen’s culture. Sticky notes and magnifying glass are fair game. Raven wants to expand her horizons and better understand her peers!

Maybe she does get caught looking at Leona once or twice? She gets lost in thoughts and isn’t aware of where her gaze is directed. “What’re you staring at?” (mean) or “… Like what you see? Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” (sarcastic) Asks Ruggie later if she’s been staring at him lately too.

“Nah, it’s probably just you, Leona-san,” Ruggie’ll reply with a snicker. “Looks like sooomeone’s got a crush on ya!”

“Quit jokin’. ‘S not funny.”

gdksbskwnekw CROWLEY WALKING IN ON THIS IS SENDING ME 😭 Him just barging in unannounced because the parenting book he decided to pick up on a whim said to check up on your kid every now and again… Jaw dropping when he sees her scattered research materials, the books she checked out from the school library, and several diagrams and drawings of human chests????

Raven panics and throws herself over her desk, trying to hide everything but knowing that he has already seen it all. “U-Uncle, I can explain!! This is…”

“Y-Young lady, I never expected to find you hoarding such obscene materials!! Where did I go wrong in raising you?! Ooh, my magnanimous self is such a failure as a father!” He slams the door and dramatically sprints off wailing. (xhsvsjkww Ceowley bumps into Leona while sprinting and doesn’t bother to stop and apologize; Leona gets annoyed and wonders why the hell the headmaster’s so emotional today.) Probably sits atop the school roofs and stares into the sky, contemplating if he should sit her down for a formal talk or an intervention. Maybe Crowley even confides about his troubles to Trein, who has raised two daughters of his own.

Trein might sigh and tell Crowley this is a “normal” part of growing up and he shouldn’t shame her interests or the boys she has crushes on or whatever 😭 “The girl is growing up fast, Dire. It is inevitable that she would eventually discover these things. As it stands, she is not harming herself or others, only exploring what has captured her attention. Your role as her guardian is to support her as best you can.”

#these are such silly ideas #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Ruggie Bucchi #Rook Hunt #Leona Kingscholar #Dire Crowley #Mozus Trein #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #notes from the writing raven

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chefkids · 3 days ago

Note

In the trailer we see Uncle Cicero telling Carmy and Syd that they have to close the restaurant, do you think that means the review didn’t go well or he’s just being a dick?

I think it doesn't actually even matter if the review went well or not because the Computer already told him last season that he had to cut them off regardless. The restaurant is doing well. They are fully booked. If people hated the food they would have been getting complaints. They know how to make good food, that was never their problem. Carmy, doesn't know how to run a business. He doesn't pay attention to how much things cost.

Nat is on her airpods calling them from home probably right when they all read their review. Sydney is wearing her original review bandana, also the same bandana from when Carmy officially initially hired her. She's got the answers he was too egotistical and scared to hear.

Carmy is working on a dish with mushrooms and carrots that looks awfully similar to Sydney's blood orange colored mushroom bandana.... We know finding inspiration is going to be a big topic for them and I think Carmy is just going to full lean in on Sydney being his muse and making little dishes that look like her bandana's and hopefully finally fully accepts his feelings for Syd instead of running away from them. Until she or somebody else, Richie, notices.

Speaking of #noticing. Carmy, Syd, and Marcus are looking over at Richie's evil little notebook and I'll be gagged if one of them finds out about his plans to find a lover for Syd with either Luca or Carmy. There are also little violet flowers in the arrangement behind Sydney and we see Fak in a purple shirt, which we really only ever seen Nat and Pete wearing purple. Could it be a hint at Fak finally be giving up on clairecarmy and joining the sydcarmy train?

The white flower arrangements are also the same from the other clips of Sydney wearing her og first day/risotto day muse bandana.

Tina is working on some fresh pasta, Sydney could never. Things are seemingly going better at the kitchen. I don't think the restaurant is going to stay a financial flop and I think everyone will have a bigger say on the menu instead of just Carmy. I'm sure if Cicero backs out they could find other backers. But I think Shapiro is still going to be going after Sydney and she will keep her options open as long as she can. I think she will continue to keep it from Carmy until he finds out on his own and things blow up between them, probably the day she's wearing her muse bandana. *alleyway fight*

#the bear #sydcarmy #the bear meta #the bear season 4

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vicedmuses · 3 days ago

Text

now that the nerd was busy talking to the dealer, tucker was able to give his full attention to benji. his brother always managed to keep him calm, at bay. almost like a dog that was collared before attacking someone. without his leash, he was free to roam around. ❝they're going to be so jealous that javier gets you twenty-four seven. hell, i'm a little mad that he's been keeping you to himself all this time. that it's taken us so long to meet his boyfriend.❞ he was going to say slut, but that didn't fit. benji was javi's boyfriend and tucker's whore. that sounded much better to him. ❝he'll get over it. he doesn't like people that try so hard to get on his good side because he doesn't trust people all the time.❞ that was said quiet enough that hopefully it wouldn't be heard across the room. he didn't want to hear his twin nagging at him for what he said. ❝just give him a couple of days and i'm sure he's going to treat you like he treats moses and quinn. help him stalk your family's group and he'll probably do that even faster.❞ he let out a soft moan when he finally felt benji's hand and mouth wrap around his shaft. his length throbbed in the man's mouth, fully erect now with all of the attention that it was getting. he bit down on his bottom lip as he looked over at the slut. his right hand moved over so that he could brush his fingers through his curls. ❝make sure you keep looking at me. i want to see those pretty eyes while you suck me off.❞ he didn't want to miss any second of this. didn't want to waste anytime either.

A moan slipped past Benji's lips before he could hold it back. But Tucker's words turned him on way too much. Embarrassingly, his cock hardened within seconds. ❝Please do that,❞ he said breathlessly with an almost impatient, daring spark in his eyes. ❝Pass me around, make me the perfect whore.❞ The tip of Benji's tongue traced over the shell of Tucker's ear after leaning in more. Yet, the touch only lasted a few seconds before he looked into the chaotic man's eyes again. ❝See, I knew. And I don't like that. Not getting your attention, I mean.❞ That wasn't a lie from Benji's side, but also not the full truth. He needed Tate on his side, he needed Tyler on his side. If this fails it is the end. Not just of his relationship with Javier, but also the end of Benji's life (possibly also of Javier's life, who knew). ❝But I also feel like I offended your brother a little bit earlier. That wasn't my intention, I was probably a little too excited meeting him.❞ Benji's hand slipped into Tucker's pants. His fingers curled around the thick shaft to give it a few slow, intense strokes. ❝I'll fix that but for now, I'll pay attention to you, handsome. You seem like a man with a lot of stamina who can last longer than thirty minutes.❞ And he didn't want to make Tate angry by distracting Tucker for longer than necessary. Therefore, Benji used both of his hands to finally pull Tucker's pants down just enough to free the other's impressive length. His mouth watered and it didn't take him long to drop to his knees right in front of Tucker. Once again, his hand curled around Tucker's shaft and leaned in. With his tongue, he lapped over the tip of the other's cock.

#atgvnpoint #c: benji #javier.#tate.#tucker.

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gaylordscooter · 2 days ago

Text

Mirrored Delusions

[warning for implicit sexual themes and delusions]

One of the times he got shitfaced drunk he had this awful idea come to mind.

He missed Killer, but he couldn't just go and see him now. He was the one that pushed him away.

But as he saw his reflection in the beer bottle he held, he could almost fool himself into thinking he was looking at Killer.

He was just missing those streaks of black tears. He could probably draw it on with a marker, or something.

…Where could he get a marker anyway?

“mmm,” he hummed, getting Grillby’s attention.

The fire monster looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

“marker,” he said. That wasn't useful at all. You couldn’t just say one word and expect him to understand. “...where could i buy one?” he mumbled.

He had no idea how legible that sentence was but Grillby’s flames spelled confusion.

He put his head back down on the table as he felt a headache coming on. Hooray.

He soon fell for the trap that is “resting his eyes”. He woke up an hour later from a gentle nudge from Grillby.

He’s gotten braver, to be able to do that. Lucky for him, Dusk has gotten used to being nudged awake, so he didn't have the threat of him freaking out.

His headache was still vaguely there. It felt like someone was tightly pinching the inside of his skull. Nothing he couldn't power through, though.

Grillby’s was closing. That meant getting up and the treacherous walk home. Usually Papyrus was here to carry him home, but Grillby told him he was busy today and didn't elaborate further.

“...Are you able to get home safe?” Grillby asked.

Dusk nodded and even gave a thumbs up to show that he was really confident that he could get to his house safely.

Grillby seemed to believe that answer, or he took it as an excuse to not walk him home, which was fair. During some of his nights here, he's proven to still be pretty trigger-happy, even when inebriated. Thankfully Papyrus would use his blue magic on him until he calmed down.

There was something about blue magic that tended to snap him out of those episodes—Killer was the one to find that out during their fights. He said it was like “scruffing a kitten”. He hated that phrasing, but it was fairly accurate.

Anyway.

He could get home fiiiine.

And he did. He was here. In his house. Standing dumbly in the bathroom looking at the marker that was apparently in his hand now.

He totally blacked out on the way home. He didn't know what he did, but he did know that this marker in his hand was in fact not something he had before.

He looked at himself in the mirror, hood down, eyelights white. No, that's not right.

His eye sockets went blank. There we go. Well, he lately had ringed eyelights but Dusk didn't know how to do that.

Wow, was he really going to do this? He wasn't that fucked up, was he?

SURELY THIS ISN’T SURPRISING ANYMORE, YOU SICKO.

Darn, he thought he was getting good at ignoring those thoughts. Guess some can still slip by, probably because he's right this time.

He checked the marker, making sure it wasn't a permanent marker. Even after reading the label, he uncapped the marker and drew a line on the mirror and tried erasing it. It disappeared completely.

It was dry erase. Holy moly, drunk him knew what he was doing.

He blinked, the weight of the situation hitting him.

He set the marker down on the bathroom counter. No, no. He wasn't going to do that. That's weird and insane. He's neither of those things.

He can't believe he was actually considering it. He's completely sobered up now so he couldn't use that as an excuse.

Anything he did related to Killer couldn't be explained by drugs, honestly. It was all him. He knows this by now.

WHAT A FREAK.

He could probably blame it on the fact that it's nearly 2 am and he hasn't gotten proper sleep in days. That's a proper excuse, right? Sleep deprivation does crazy things to the mind.

So he should probably just go to sleep now.

Sleep. Alone. Completely sober. That was entirely possible.

He stared at himself in the mirror. He leaned his forehead against it. God, Killer made sleeping so much easier. He hasn't been able to sleep well ever since they moved away from each other.

He stared at himself with white eyelights until he picked up the marker and uncapped it.

Killer stared back at him from the mirror. He looked like a mess. Figures, he was doing horribly without him. If he was already doing bad, Killer was probably doing worse.

It's okay. He's here now.

He put his hand on his, trying to comfort him.

“hey, it's been awhile since we've done something like this, huh? hanging out late at night.”

He missed doing that. They should go out for drinks at Grillby’s. It would be nice.

“do you remember what you said that one night? that if this kept up, we might end up having sex?”

It wasn't the exact phrasing he used. He used a euphemism and he mostly meant it as a joke, but still.

“well. we’ve never gotten to that point yet, huh?”

His other hand neared his pants. It was then he realized he still had his gloves on.

He took off his gloves and untied the strings to his sweats.

He's wanted this for a while, even got desperate enough to steal one of his pillows back when they were living at Nightmare's castle. Somehow Killer never noticed, despite the many times he went to his room.

Despite all the tension between them, how much Killer’s joked about it, and how often they got in the mood for it, they’ve never actually had sex.

Killer would always back out. Even if he was the one with the hard-on, he’d leave to take care of it on his own. He was afraid of how intimate it would be.

He wondered if Killer knew he could hear his whimpers through the wall. He wasn't actively listening for it, he just wasn't exactly quiet and their rooms were right next to each other.

He even said his name, or at least what used to be his name.

Maybe he could copy how he sounded.

…

No. That didn't sound like him at all.

He wondered if Killer would look as pathetic as he did now. Would he cry like this? Cover his mouth?

He made eye contact with the mirror.

Killer looked at him tiredly.

The sheer absurdity of the situation finally hit him as he drew his hand away from the mirror, with his reflection doing the same.

What the hell was he doing?

He cackled to cover up the scream that was building up.

There was nothing stopping him from visiting Killer. There was also nothing stopping Killer from visiting him.

And it's only been a week.

Just. One. Week!

He held his skull in his hands, curling in on himself as he couldn't stop laughing at how pathetic he was being.

How could he even be sure Killer was alive? Maybe he hasn't visited because he was fucking dead. And it was his fault. It was his fault. He killed him. He killed him the moment he fell for him. The whole relationship was a mistake. He didn't account for getting out of Nightmare's grasp so he didn't care before. But now!

The piercing sound of shattering glass reverberated throughout the bathroom along with the broken pieces.

Ah. Bones jutted out from the wall that Killer was on.

He's gone. He killed him. It's his fault. He's dead.

He wondered if Horror heard him scream.

Horror? Horror was gone too, wasn't he?

Yeah, he hasn't seen “Horror” around either. He was replaced by Sans.

He stumbled backwards and tripped into the bathtub. He banged his skull against the tiled wall as he fell. It hurt like a motherfucker but at least the pain grounded him.

But he didn't think he really wanted to be grounded in reality right now. Not when everyone he cared about was gone.

He’d laugh again if he had the energy to. This was familiar. Staying up late, mourning over deaths he could’ve prevented.

His eye sockets felt heavy as lethargy took over his body. He heard nothing but a low ringing as he finally shut them.

He awoke to the sound of knocking. Instinctively he shortcutted to his feet and tensed up, ready to fight.

He had to lean against the counter for support immediately after, the shortcut disorienting him more than it should've. It didn't do that unless it's been awhile since he's shortcutted. When was the last time he did that? It was his primary way of getting around the underground faster than the human. It shouldn't have been that long.

There was another knock at the door.

There was a reset, wasn't there? Why else would there be someone able to knock on the door?

…Since when did their bathroom look like this? (And why was his hand sticky?)

The mirror was shattered, only a few pieces of it remain on the wall. In one of them, he noticed smudged marker streaks coming down from his sockets.

Right.

There was no reset. There will never be another reset, that circle of hell was already dealt with. He's entered a new one.

He turned on the sink and washed his hands and face, soaking his sleeves in the process.

He frantically adjusted his pants, tying the drawstrings together tightly, and pulled his gloves on, getting them wet since he didn't bother drying his hands.

He went out of the bathroom to go over to his front door. It was weird to think about it. His front door. He had a house now. A new one. That he didn't co-own with P—

He didn't have it in him to even think his name at the moment.

He checked the peephole, reeling back when he saw it was a Sans. He didn't think he's seen this guy before.

He unlocked the door with a bit of hassle thanks to his wet gloves being slippery.

Sans sighed in relief once the door finally opened. “hey, man. it's been a hot minute since we've seen each other, huh?”

Dusk looked him over. He was wearing a beanie along with a jacket and cargo pants. He also had a grey eye that nearly looked familiar. Speaking of familiar, he acted like he knew him.

Sans scratched the back of his head. “so. how’s it hanging?”

He shrugged. What was there to say? His bathroom was a mess. He was a mess. This is basically the usual. And he wasn't even sure who this was.

Sans gave him a quizzical look. “don't act like a stranger. it hasn't been that long,” he said lightly, but there was an air of nervousness behind it.

Dusk didn't respond to that.

Sans looked to the side at nothing in particular. “you gonna let me in, or?”

Dusk stepped back to let him in.

Once the door was closed and locked, Sans seemed to relax. Dusk didn't even notice he was tense until now.

“well, i learned something interesting the other day,” he lowered his volume. He leaned his head closer to Dusk, to which Dusk had to restrain himself from attacking right then and there. “nightmare can shapeshift.”

Dusk looked at him blankly. “oh.” Oh my god. This was Horror. He couldn't recognize him at all.

“oh?? that's all you have to say? don't you know how much this changes?” Sans asked. “he could be anyone here and we wouldn't even know! i think he's still watching us.”

Somehow Dusk had the vague feeling that he knew this. He was more concerned that he couldn't even recognize someone he lived with for a year. “damn.”

Sans looked at him with half-lidded sockets. “should've figured you'd react like this. i should've told killer first.”

Dusk tensed.

But Killer was dead.

“hey, just because you two are having a little quarrel right now doesn't mean i can't talk to both of you.”

That wasn't the problem in the slightest. Sans didn’t know.

Sans started walking further into the room, looking around until he sat himself down on one of the chairs. “speaking of him, have you seen him lately? or have you been avoiding him?”

Dusk stood there with his hands by his sides, still damp, but not dripping. He stayed silent.

Sans joined him in his silence, probably wondering if Dusk would ever answer.

In the silence, Dusk noticed he couldn't hear the usual ambience a house should have. No humming noise of electricity, no ticking of a clock, the floorboards didn't make noise either.

How odd. It almost distracted him from the awkward situation at hand.

Eventually, Sans caved. He pinched his nasal bone, massaging it. “you should've taken up blue’s offer for help too. you're doing worse than him.”

Considering he was dead, that's pretty bad.

Still. Probably true.

“what about you?” Dusk snipped back.

Sans’s sockets widened at the response before settling back down. He crossed his arms. “i’m not exactly doing good but i’m doing better than the both of you combined, that's for sure.”

Dusk went quiet again, shrinking back. That made sense. At least one of them was doing well.

He sighed, “...i’m worried about you two, okay? neither of you two have ever come to visit. i would’ve gone to you instead but every time i knocked you weren't there or didn't answer.”

Dusk held his head low. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt these two more. Yet here he was.

“...i hardly recognized you at first,” he admitted.

Sans looked at him solemnly. “i noticed.”

Dusk screwed his sockets shut, grateful his hood obscured his face. It was that obvious, huh?

He took the beanie off. “i don't blame you, since i was hiding this,” he pointed at the hole in his skull, “i don't think i’d recognize you with your hood off and with different eyelights either.”

“why is your eye grey?”

Sans shrugged. “i guess the shitty showers at nightmare's hellhole didn't have good enough water pressure to wash the blood away. a couple of showers here and the eye turned grey.”

So that's why he used to smell like stale blood all the time.

“it's a lot nicer here, huh?” he added the afterthought.

That was an understatement. Yet Killer and him were struggling more than ever.

“have you checked out the park here yet? there's a forest and everything.”

Dusk shook his head. He didn't even know there was a park. He hadn't really gone anywhere else besides Grillby’s.

“huh,” he paused, looking around the room again for some reason, “c’mon then, i’ll show it to you.”

He stood up and grabbed his arm, already walking towards the door before Dusk could even say anything.

Dusk decided to let it happen. A walk in the park didn't sound too bad right now, he supposed.

Once he stepped outside, he noticed the sky was cloudy. There was hardly any blue in the sky at the moment. He didn't expect this place to have weather. He was kind of entranced by the appearance. He doesn't think he's ever seen a cloudy sky before.

Sans noticed the grey clouds too as he put the beanie back on, sockets just barely wincing as he did so. “hm, it’s gonna rain, probably. you don't mind getting a bit damp, do you? i don't have an umbrella.”

Dusk squeezed his hands, checking if his gloves were still damp. He felt water leak out of the fabric only to be reabsorbed a moment later. He put a hand on Sans’s face in response.

Sans pushed it away with a chortle, “dude. what the hell?”

Dusk smiled.

The trip to the park didn't take too long. The two of them saw a fair amount of monsters on the way, until the rain started. Then a lot of monsters started taking shelter.

It started off gentle. He barely felt the raindrops as it fell on him.

They made it to the park right as the rain picked up.

Dusk took a breath in, smelling the freshly wet soil. It was different from how Waterfall smelled, even when the cave ceiling leaked.

Usually rain and cloudy skies were associated with doom and gloom. Dusk wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling right now as he took in the sight of the tree leaves dancing in the wind and the rain droplets falling from the sky, but at the very least he didn't think this was gloomy.

He took a step onto the grass, immediately coating the bottom of his sole with mud. He pressed forward, even as Sans told him he was going off the path.

As he walked, he had to pull up his shoes from the grasp of the mud with effort every step. Had his shoes not been tied so tightly, they probably would've popped off by now.

Once he got far enough in the grass, he spread his arms out, closed his sockets and fell back.

When he opened them again, he was greeted by a painting of grey and green.

The rain pelted against his skull. It felt like someone was tapping it with their fingers.

Water was starting to pool into his sockets. And nasal cavity.

It felt weird but not necessarily uncomfortable, so he stayed where he was.

Eventually Sans came into view, looking down at him. “enjoying the mud?” he asked with amusement.

“i’m soaking it all in,” Dusk replied.

“you sure are. leave some for me.” He laid down next to him—not falling like Dust did. “my brother would kill me if i tracked mud in the house. you won't mind if i use your shower once we get back, right?”

Dusk shifted his position, lying on his side and propping his head up with a hand while his elbow dug into the mud. He stared at Sans with a deadpan expression.

Sans tilted his head towards Dusk when he didn't get a verbal response. “why’re you looking at me like that?”

Dusk waited a bit more to see if Sans would register what he just said to him. He didn't. “‘my brother would kill me’, you say?”

Sans’s expression immediately shifted into shock. “oh shit, wait.”

Dusk snickered once he finally realized.

“oh my god—hang on. my bad.”

Dusk couldn't help but giggle as Sans frantically apologized.

“it's funny you say that, actually.”

“glad you find my embarrassment funny,” Sans mumbled.

“no, no. recently, i met a version of my brother that actually killed me.”

Sans’s sockets went blank as he winced. “oh. wow. that's…rough.”

“i didn't know he had that in him. can you believe that? he couldn't kill the human but he could kill me?”

Sans looked to the side. “i mean, you're not really in any place to judge him.”

“i know that. and you know that that's not what's bothering me.”

Sans sighed, but said nothing more.

“i thought…he's supposed to be better than us, right? he's always been better. he sticks to his morals. he doesn't kill.”

Sans thought about all the humans his brother had eaten. He narrowed his sockets. “now look who's saying things.”

Dusk was taken aback. “what's that mean?”

“you saying my brother’s worse than me?”

“no, i’m talking about my brother—why would i be talking about yours? i don't even know him.”

Sans’s hostile expression immediately faded away. His eye darted to the side again. “i, uh, misunderstood.”

Dusk hummed, unconvinced. He sat up, hood slipping off as he did so. Water poured out of his skull’s orifices and further soaked his clothes.

They didn't talk about their pasts much to each other, Sans especially, so he knew nothing about his brother besides the fact he was alive. He didn't want to make any assumptions, but the way Sans reacted was pretty telling. “how is your brother doing?”

Sans sat up too, giving his skull a shake to get all the water out. “good. he's been decorating our new home and stuff. he’s also gotten pretty acquainted with those farmers.”

He thought about the long and taxing conversation he had with him about where he's been for the past year. “oh yeah and i, uh, told him everything about nightmare recently.”

Dusk’s sockets widened. “really? how’d he take it?”

“pretty well, despite freaking out after every sentence i said.” He felt bad, stressing out Papyrus like that, but he insisted on hearing everything even though Sans found it unnecessary. He wanted an in-depth explanation, he supposed.

Dusk nodded in understanding.

“so, that papyrus you mentioned. that wouldn't happen to be the same one that carries you to your house almost every night, would it?”

“...you saw that?”

“he kinda knocked on my door and asked if i knew where your house was. i would've questioned how he knew to ask me, if i didn't see him knocking on every door and asking everyone the same thing.”

Dusk sighed, burrowing his face into his hands.

“hey, don't sweat it. my house was one of the first few he went to. probably.”

“that is the same papyrus, yeah,” Dusk’s voice was muffled through his hands.

“huh.” He tried sounding nonjudgmental. “what's going on there?”

YOU’RE REPLACING ME. OBVIOUSLY.

Dusk ripped his hands away from his face, his eyelights going from white to the familiar mismatched red and cyan. “i’m not replacing my brother.”

Sans held up his hands in defense. “hey, i didn't say that.” Even though it sure seemed like it. He didn't say that out loud. He personally didn't have a deathwish at the moment.

“he's the one insisting on helping me get home. and it's not like i can get home on my own. what else could i do?” he grumbled.

Sans’s shoulders slumped. “i dunno, maybe don't drink till you blackout every night?”

Dusk gave him a look of disbelief as if Sans told him to do the impossible.

He decided to drop the topic, opting to stand up. “welp, i’m gonna head home now. see ya around.” He started walking.

“didn't you ask to use my shower?” Dusk asked before he could get too far.

“it's fine,” he replied dully.

Dusk pushed himself up and dragged himself over to Sans, putting a hand on his shoulder. “i’m not replacing papyrus,” he said sharply. “don't act like i am,”

Sans stopped walking, turning to make eye contact with Dusk. “i’m not acting like you are.”

“don't bullshit me, you're mad about something.”

“i’m just stressed, dusk, okay?” he blurted.

Dusk’s shoulders drooped, his hand slipped off of Sans’s.

Sans rubbed a hand on his face, massaging his forehead. “it's just. it feels like things should be better, yeah?”

Things are better. Right? Anything should be better than being back there. They don't have a demon putting them through constant torture anymore, they don't even have the same worries they had back in their respective universes, and they were even given places to stay and food.

There's not really anything to worry about, honestly.

Yet Dusk has slipped back into old habits and his eating and sleeping schedules have gotten all kinds of fucked up.

What the hell does that say about him, that he ate and slept better when he was under the clutches of that demon?

“i know that it takes time, but are you even trying to get better?” Sans seemed to regret saying that the second it slipped out. He grimaced at his own words, hands clenched by his sides.

Dusk didn't know how to answer that. Maybe he didn't want to.

“sorry. forget i asked. that was uncalled for.” He knows he would've punched the shit out of somebody if they asked him that, but Dusk's lack of reaction concerned him further.

“you've seen how often that papyrus drags me home. what do you think?” he mumbled.

Sans shrugged, he was thankful his skull was already wet because it covered up the beads of sweat forming. “i think you should go to the park more often, instead of grillby’s. that's probably better for you.” He didn't know how to give life advice and it was clearly showing. Dusk should already know this anyway. “maybe say hi to killer to remind him that you don't hate his guts.”

But Killer's dead.

“i can't really do the latter.” He didn't feel like doing the former either.

“dude. come on.”

“how do you expect me to do that?”

“by going to the hotel room that you two literally shared. you know where he lives.” Sans looked at him like he was stupid.

Dusk scoffed, “i know where he lived. that's not really helpful now.”

Sans tilted his head. “what the hell does that mean? did he move?”

“he died.”

Sans paused, “what. he what?”

“he died. i killed him. he's dead,” he repeated.

“no, that can't be right. what?” He sounded so confused. “you killed him?”

The telltale feeling of being CHECKed washed over him as Sans peered into his soul.

He sighed in relief when he saw his stats, for some reason.

“so you're just fucking with me now, huh? you wanna avoid killer that bad?”

“i’m not. i already told you—”

“you think i’m stupid? your stats are the exact same. if you killed him, your LV would be higher.”

Of course his stats were the same. He already reached LV 20. He's never been able to get any higher than that.

“i already reached the highest LV.”

Sans mumbled something under his breath. “highest LV—there is no highest. the hell are you going on about?” He grabbed him by the arm, tugging him as he walked the two of them off of the grass. “we're going to killer’s right now and you two are gonna talk.”

Dusk tried wrenching his arm out of his grip, but Sans was stronger than him in the physical department—they learned that the hard way that one time they went grocery shopping on their own. He got fed up with a human and burned their arm off with a blaster. Then, the smell of the charred flesh set off Sans. Killer and him together could hardly hold him back from eating the damn arm. They ended up getting arrested.

Safe to say he couldn't even loosen his grip. He gave up struggling until he caught sight of the hotel. His mind screamed at him that something bad would happen if he went there. He thrashed around again. He felt like a dog trying to escape its leash. He probably growled like one too.

“dusk, come on. calm down,” Sans urged. He immediately let go once he heard the deep growl of a gaster blaster in front of him.

Dusk stepped away, panting and eyes ablaze.

“what the hell is going on with you, man?”

He didn't want to deal with this right now.

Sans's sockets widened as the blaster charged up.

Only to be cut down a second later.

The two of them flinched as a hefty sword slammed down between them. The noise of metal striking the ground reverberated throughout the area.

The wielder turned out to be Cross. He had a stern look on his face. There was another identical sword in his other hand, though they seemed to be as heavy as two-handed claymores. “we don't have any problems here, do we?” The way he asked suggested there was only one answer.

“no! no, we don't,” Sans answered for the two of them.

Cross kept his eyelights trained on Dusk as he brought his sword to his side. “i don't know if you forgot, but you're in a populated area now. act like it.”

Dusk huffed, only seeing Cross as another target to deal with.

Cross’s expression softened with a sigh. “are you sure there's no problems here? you seem pretty…troubled.”

“he’s fine. he's just being a bit difficult. interpersonal problems and all that,” Sans said. “nothing you can help with.” He waved his hand dismissively. He walked over to Dusk’s side.

“you shouldn't get near or touch him right now,” Cross warned. He reached into his pocket, bringing out his phone to send a quick message.

Sans ignored him, scoffing, but the moment he tried grabbing Dusk’s arm again a bone nearly pierced the hand nearing him. He backed away in shock. “dusk—”

Cross grabbed him by the back of his jacket and yanked him away from Dusk. “he's from dusttale, right?”

“from what?”

Cross was cut off once Dusk tried striking him with a bone. He swerved out of the way, dropped his swords and tackled him to the ground, keeping him pinned.

Sans stepped forward, expression turning sour.

“the universe he was from,” Cross continued before Sans could speak. “sanses from dusttale usually go into this aggressive state when they're agitated enough. we have to neutralize him,” he explained, voice strained as he tried keeping Dusk in place.

“neutralize?! he's not a fucking animal—”

“i know that. it's a problem with his code that causes this—” Cross yelped as Dusk gathered his energy to shove him off.

The ever-familiar ring of blasters appeared overhead the three of them.

Cross swiftly picked up his swords and got ready to lunge at Dusk. Beads of sweat started forming on his skull. That’ll definitely hit all three of them. It’ll be too hard to deflect or destroy all of the blasters in time. The potential blast radius is too big to jump out of too.

“dusk, stop it!” Sans yelled in vain.

Dusk’s soul was suddenly turned cyan with a ping. The ring of blasters dissipated as Dusk collapsed.

Sans’s sockets widened in stunned silence.

Cross’s shoulders dropped in relief, lowering his swords. He looked around until he caught sight of another skeleton approaching them.

This skeleton had an eyepatch over one eye, wore a bucket hat and an unbuttoned lab coat over what appeared to be pajamas. “yo, bruh, am i late?”

“what do you think, dude?” Cross replied.

The skeleton looked down at Dusk, who was knocked out cold. Sans would’ve been worried he was dead, had monsters not dust upon dying. “eh, no harm no foul.”

“he looks hurt to me, what the hell did you do to him?”

He raised his hands in defense, “chill, bruh, he's just asleep. it's temporary.”

“so we’ll need to act fast. the machine’s ready, right, epic?” Cross asked while fastening his swords on the harness on his back. With how big the swords were, it made him look like a giant walking x.

Epic? So this is the guy they risked their lives to rescue a bit ago. Huh.

He gave Cross a thumbs up, “yuh, why’d you think i took so long?”

Not worth it.

“what machine? what are you guys gonna do to him?” Sans questioned.

Epic was already on his way to lifting Dusk over his back. “we just need to do a little tinkering with his code to get rid of that murderous tendency of his. it's no biggie.”

Sans furrowed his brow ridges. “what do you mean his code?”

Something clicked for Epic. His mouth stretched out to one side in a cringe as his eyelight flicked over to Cross.

Cross rolled his eyes. “we don't have time to explain that, you can just come with us.” He offered his hand to Sans, who hesitantly took it.

Their surroundings changed in a snap. Sans found himself in a dimly lit lab that seemed to be in a basement. It was pretty cluttered with desks, drawers and various machines. The top of the desks were also filled with random junk, namely strewn about blueprints, tools and unfinished gadgets.

Instead of proper lights in the ceiling, there were blacklight LED strips that wrapped around the walls. He wondered if that was an aesthetic choice or for practical reasons.

Epic settled Dusk down on a modified dental chair that had straps to hold him in place. There was a machine next to the chair that looked similar to an arcade cabinet, with a keyboard and trackpad on the control panel instead of buttons and a joystick. He cracked his knuckles, rolled his head around to stretch his neck and began typing away at the keyboard.

Sans hovered near Dusk, periodically looking over at Epic. Dusk still hasn't stirred at all.

Cross approached the machine as well, grabbing a long thin tube with a needle at the end that looked similar to an iv line. He then grabbed one of Dusk’s hands and pulled his glove down enough to insert it into the bone.

Sans saw his hand twitch, but he still didn't wake up.

“care to explain,” he gestured at their general direction, “all of this? you two seem like serial killers right now.”

“we’s altering his code. it's like a surgery, bruh,” Epic said. He paused his typing as he winced at the screen and then waved at Cross to come over. “uhhh, bit hard to tell which line’s the problem, tho.”

“you keep saying ‘code’. what do you mean code?” He could probably guess, but he wanted to be certain.

Cross looked over the screen and then waved Epic away, “i got it, go explain to him.”

Epic backed away from the machine, turning his attention to Sans. “so,” he clapped his hands together, “this might blow your mind, but everything ever is made out of lines of code. it's like the building block to everything. and it's the differences in our code that lead to different universes.” He paused, letting Sans take in the information. “so this bruh right here’s from a dusttale universe, where the sanses have the goal of getting their LV as high as possible to stop the anomaly.”

“we’re trying to get rid of the lines of code that gave him that goal. so he won't lose control like he did earlier,” Cross jumped in.

Sans could vaguely wrap his head around what they're saying. He’ll have to think about it more for the existentialism to fully hit him, but he was more concerned with the consequences of the current “surgery” at hand. “wouldn't that change who he is? what if he becomes an entirely different person?”

“that's what we're taking care to avoid. don't worry, this shouldn't affect his personality,” Cross said.

Sans still didn't look convinced.

“if you come here, you can see which parts of his code i’m altering. if that helps at all.”

Sans glanced down at Dusk, checking if he was still unconscious, before walking close to the machine. The screen was full of nothing but text. There were two small sections that were highlighted.

“the code i have highlighted here gives him the urge to gain LV. the other one gives him the goal of killing the anomaly from his universe. since these two are linked together, the former line of code is usually inactive.” Cross scanned Sans’s face, which was still trained on the screen. “...but once someone leaves their universe their code starts getting unstable, in a way. which is why we have to remove these. it takes out any chance of him getting into that state.”

“and have you done something like this before?” He narrowed his sockets. “are you sure it's safe?”

Cross locked eyelights with Sans. “we’ve done the same thing with me. i know it's safe.”

“...huh.” He’ll admit, he didn't really expect that. There was one glaring problem with that. “i was under the impression this place was your universe.”

“it is,” Cross confirmed.

“you said code gets unstable when you're outside of your universe.”

“yo, you bruhs are taking a bit too long,” Epic interrupted. He waltzed over to the machine too, pushing Cross out of the way. He shooed them, “go finish your conversation over there, this needs to be done before he wakes up.” He shot a look at Cross, “it gets real wack when you do this on a conscious patient.”

Cross nodded and walked away with Sans to give Epic space. “anyway, yeah, code gets unstable outside of your universe, what’s your point?”

“why did you need to alter your code if you live in your own universe?”

Cross looked away with a scorned look on his face. “someone else changed it in the first place. the whole reason epic made that machine was to undo that.”

Sans’s sockets widened. He went quiet, leaving the typing of a keyboard to fill the silence.

It took a few more minutes before Epic finished up, dusted off his hands, and patted himself on the back. “another successful procedure.”

“he hasn't even woken up yet,” Sans commented.

“uh, yuh-huh, he has.” Epic removed the tube connected to Dusk’s arm. “wakey-wakey.”

He jerked up immediately after, only to fall back against the chair immediately as static crawled along the corners of his vision. He brought one of his hands up to massage his face.

“yeah, bad idea. don't sit up so fast. you're gonna have a raging headache for a bit,” Epic said.

“dusk!” Sans went by his side. “how’re you feeling?”

He groaned in response and spelled out “hurt” with his other hand. It's been awhile since he's signed instead of speaking. His hand had a bit of hesitance as it moved.

“the pain should fade soon, but you’re gonna be a bit lethargic,” Cross assured. “do you remember how you got here?”

“no,” he signed immediately. He drew his hand away from his face to see who was speaking and registered he was in a completely unfamiliar area. He kept his sockets nearly-closed. Despite the dim lighting, it was still a struggle to keep them open. A “bit” lethargic was an understatement, He felt exhausted.

“do you remember attacking us, at least?”

Dusk groaned again.

“alright, enough of that. i’m taking him to his house,” Sans said. He put his hand under his back to support him as he slowly brought him upright. “i’ll make sure he doesn't kill anyone, so you don't have to bother him.”

Cross nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. “i’ll escort you two out.”

Getting back to his house was mostly a blur. Sans practically dragged him the whole way because of how sluggish he felt. He was talking, explaining what happened and what was done to him. He barely got any of that but all he knew was that he shouldn't be feeling as murderous as he did anymore. Yay. Also apparently those episodes of violence were due to his “code” and everything and everyone was made out of code. He wasn’t going to think about this.

Once he got to the door of his home, he insisted he was fine to walk on his own and that Sans could leave now.

He ended up passing out on his couch, not even able to get to his bedroom in time. Well, at least he didn't drink any alcohol today.

…So. His LV shouldn’t pose him any problems anymore, huh? No more urges to kill?

He thought about the broken mirror in his bathroom. A bit late for that.

His soul ached as he thought about how Killer would’ve benefited from this.

#dust sans #horror sans #cross sans #xtale cross #epic sans #utmv fic #suggestive

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