#also no I have not read the glass scientists but I really want to now so dont be surprised if I come on here to yap about that as well lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dietpitt · 2 months ago

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💚🎃Green Is Definitely Your Color🎃💚

Stan Pines x AFAB!Reader Explicit | 2.8k words Tags: Gender-Neutral Reader, Reader wears a dress, Halloween Costumes, Trick-or-Treating, Sexual Roleplay, Cunnilingus, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Stan is a Leg Man, Body Worship, Marking Kink, Reader Plays Bride of Frankenstein

In which body paint and Stan's mouth save the day (but ruin a perfectly good costume).

{Read on AO3}

Author's Note: Originally posted 2020 on AO3, but I wanted to give it a proper tumblr post. I'm very proud of this one except I didn't know how to end it and it shows lol

Thankfully, there are only a few things you and your boyfriend don’t see eye-to-eye on. Stan takes his coffee black (old habit from the days of shoddy motels and a life on the run), while your own brew of choice is iced (lasts longer and doesn’t get cold since it already is). He thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to scare a baby every now and then, and proceed to laugh in their pudgy little tear-streaked face. You? You told him he’d be the one bawling if you ever caught him pulling that in your periphery again.

Tonight, though? Tonight is the perfect example of just how good you two are together. Because tonight, you weren’t scaring babies. Tonight, on Halloween, you were scaring kids. And that was worlds apart from wreaking havoc in the grocery store, which happened the majority of the remaining 363 days of the year.

Sure, Stan always goes all-out for his beloved Summerween, but October 31st is when his freak flag really flies. It makes sense-- Fall brings less tourists than usual, and shorter daylight hours means fewer parents letting their kids come out to the woods to trick or treat, making every opportunity for a scare count.

With the Mystery Shack trading its typical kitsch for spooky ephemera-- fully decked out in giant spiderwebs, ghoulish figures, and angry jack-o-lanterns-- it’ll truly be a dramatic sight to behold.

But, for all the elaborate planning, special effects to make the eyes pop out of his skull and the bolts on his neck to spark and smoke, Stan still manages to miss a few spots needing body paint.

“Alright, alright, I think y’got it,” Franken-Stan fake-grumbles up at you from his seat in front of the full-length mirror.

“Will you relax? You’re gonna sweat, and I’ll have to do your makeup all over again,” you scold, though your painted lips curl into a fond grin despite yourself.

Though the kids will start coming any minute, you’re set on completing the finishing touches, if for no other reason than to keep Stan from further grumbling later.

… And most certainly not because you also love the opportunity to dote, holding him close in ways he’d otherwise be too shy about. Not at all.

“Are you going to wear your glasses?” You ask, getting his ears nice and green with the sponge brush.

He gives it some thought. “As much as it hurts the spook factor, I can’t really scare anybody if I fall on my face.”

Another, final once-over at your work and you’re satisfied, stepping back and raising your arms in the air triumphantly to steal yourself for your best mad-scientist cackle. “My creation! It’s aliiiive!”

Stan laughs, quickly standing and caging you with his arms against the wall. “Damn right. Alive as ever.”

You shoo both him and the remark away, looking over your white “dress” (old sheet) to check for any green that may have made its way onto your costume. “I thought you were in a hurry, hmm? There’s no time for a touch-up. Now, be a good ‘husband’ and carry the train.”

Stan’s eyes roll as he lifts the gown, following your lead downstairs. “Yes, honey.”

Trying very carefully not to trip, Stan helps you down the stairs. “I still think it’s dumb that The Bride of Frankenstein doesn’t get a name, though. Sure, she’s in it for all of three minutes, but she gets the movie named after her and doesn’t even get a line?”

“Nah, she just screams,” Stan laughs, dropping your dress as you meet the front door. “Like it hurts to exist.” He swings the door open and the both of you speak in unison.

“She gets it.”

You share a small laughing fit at that, making your way outside into the crisp autumn air, giddy to begin the festivities. A few to last-minute adjustments and tech checks, and The Shack will be ready.

“Seriously though-- why can’t she be, like, Victoria or something?”

Over by the skeleton crawling out from under the porch, Stan snorts. “Victoria? Why?”

You shrug. “Why not?”

“Touche.”

It’s finally the tail-end of the second hour, and you’re in position behind the semi-trapdoor mechanism on the porch, hidden behind a dark and stormy castle standee. You’re high on the energy so far, after making some kids scream-squeal in delight. Although, you did manage to terrify a toddler on accident without even trying-- the poor thing burst into tears at the mere sight of you walking out normally from the porch.

Maybe it was the semi-realistic stitches on your flesh? Who knows. All that’s clear is you felt awful, but Stan was very clearly amused-- and jealous, you’d wager.

But now that it’s past bedtime for most little ones, it’s time to up the ante with some added special effects-- and the fast-approaching gaggle of baby teens seem to be the first that’ll enjoy them.

Always on top of it, Stan lets out a Frankenstein-like groan, marching further from the end of the porch, arms raised in cheesy classic style. The kids stop in their tracks as he clears his throat roughly to give the spiel he’s practiced all night, an extra ~spooky~ lilt to his otherwise mostly-normal voice:

“Foolish humans! You daaaare demand gifts, when your hubris created me from cursed flesh, and your hatred ensured my demise?!” He’s truly in his element as his neck bolts flicker for emphasis, making most of the middle schoolers jump and gasp.

The one at the front of the pack though, doesn’t budge, instead holding their pumpkin bucket out with an overall look of disinterest. “Yeah, duh. Trick-or-treat, old man. Hand over the candy.”

“Rude little shit,” you frown, not even needing to see Stan’s face to know he’s going to enjoy this particular scare very much.

“Hold it, kid, ” Stan sneers, continuing his introduction, “if you want anything good to eat, you’ll need to ask the most blood-curdling-- ”

You flip the switch for the fog machine, and bellows of grey creep in around the Shack--

“--The most SPINE-TINGLING, repulsive monster of us all--!”

You quickly step on the nearby button, and lightning flashes across the house as thunder sounds--

“ --MY WIFE! ”

At his signal, your spring forward, eyes crazed as a horrendous banshee screech leaves your throat and white tendrils wave in the wind.

The rude kid screams-- and while Stan bursts out laughing and you smile evilly, you miss them reflexively reach into their bucket, pull something out, and chuck it right at you before scampering away.

With a dull thud, the projectile lands on your head with a muffled thud, sending you off balance and toppling off the platform in a second. You hear Stan’s barks at the hoodlum, but soon he’s up the porch at your side, just as surprised as you are.

“The hell-- you alright, babe?”

Stan helps you up as you glance around for the offending object that’s left your head and the arm that broke your fall aching. “I-- what the fuck was that?!”

A large, off-white sphere rolls along a groove in the deck, moved by your shifted weight. It hits the edge of your shoe, and you pick it up to find it’s…

A popcorn ball.

A really fucking heavy, rock-hard popcorn ball.

With a splotch of white from your forehead smeared across it.

Stan’s bursts out laughing, though he doesn’t let his supposedly helpful grip on your waist go. “Who the hell gave that thing out?? They must’ve been saving it for last century-- ”

It’s funny. Like, really funny. Comedy freaking gold.

But your head hurts and you fell, and shit, your wig’s messed up…

Your own laughter breaks suddenly, and before you even know it you’re tearing up.

Franken-Stan blanches the soon as it hits him. “H-hey, sweetheart, I’m sorry-- are you alright?”

The comforting hands on your shoulder, the concern in his voice breaks the dam, tears spilling out despite your mind knowing better, and wanting to continue laughing it off like you should-- like you want to.

“I’m fine Stan, I’m fine, I-- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, I really don’t,” you laugh, dabbing at your eyes with a bandage-covered hand. “That was too perfect.”

“Don’t apologize, that kid’s an asshole.”

“An asshole with a hell of a pitch,” You laugh, finally meeting Stan’s eye.

“Wanna go inside? It’s gettin’ late anyway,”

“No! No, are you kidding? We just got started with the lightning! I’m fine, I promise--”

He raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“Really, I am. I’m the most horrifying creature of them all, right?”

“Hah! Sure are, sweet thing, sure are.”

“Then let’s get back to scaring. I’ll be ready to duck this time.” You laugh, elbowing Stan before getting back into place, and Stan follows.

11:27pm

There hasn’t been a kid in nearly 30 minutes, and with another hour under your belt, the pair of you are content to turn in for the night for some movies and the Halloween goodie bags left behind by scared trick-or-treaters.

Flopping down on the bed, your tired body practically sings. “Goddd, that kid really got me good.” The hands on your face muffle your words, but Stan gets the idea.

Taking pity on you, he pulls up the nearby chair and starts unlacing one of your boots for you. “Happens in the line of duty sometimes. Shoulda seen what one fairy princess threw at me one year-- actually, I don’t even wanna know what it was.” He jokes(?), tossing the shoe aside and beginning on the other.

“Knocked me down at the top of my game…” you mutter, twiddling with the end of a splayed-out strip of your garment.

“Hey,” Stan drops the other boot to the floor with a thud, quickly peeling off the striped sock that lay underneath. “Don’t forget, you scared the absolute shit out of that brat.”

You let out a hum, then chuckle. “Triggered his fight and flight.”

"Exactly,” he replies definitely, sling-shotting the second sock in the air. It lands on your chest, but you quickly toss it over to nowhere in particular.

“I don’t know if I can even get back up. Just let me die here,” you groan, only half-joking as the strenuous activities of the day catch up to you. “I’ll be a corpse for next Halloween.”

“Well, yer already halfway there in that getup,” Stan shrugs off the jacket of his costume and lets it fall on the chair. A glance across your form reminds him of the “bolts” attached to his neck, which he peels off with a wince. “And I’m not far behind ya.”

“I’ll be lucky if I look this good when I’m dead,” you laugh, adjusting to get more comfortable and fully prepared to just pass out, wig and all.

Stan’s eye catches on the bare skin of your leg that’s revealed when you shift, the stark white of your gown falling to the side as it bends at the knee and the other still hangs off the bed uselessly. He hums, appreciative of the sensual view of you before him: limbs draped out, black eye makeup smudged...

Your eyes fly open at the feeling of Stan’s large hand on your knee, and you’re met with a familiar mischievous grin on Stan’s still-green face. “Mmm, you’re already bewitching, babe.”

That look always manages to send a pang through your gut. “Oh, stop it…”

This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined the night ending, but don’t mind all that much if it’s headed where you think it’s headed.

“‘M serious,” Stan chuckles. “Yer right about The Bride too… never appreciated enough,” His thumb rubs a circle on the soft flesh on the inside of your knee, and you can’t help but sigh at the nice pressure.

Your stomach nearly flips when he slides to his own knees, grip moving down your calf and lifting your leg to place a playful kiss to your ankle. His name falls from your lips in a whine, equal parts warning and pleading, for exactly what you can’t decide. You’re answered nonetheless by another peck just above the previous, then another with the slightest bit of teeth that makes you gasp and prop up onto your elbows.

The sight is absolutely ridiculous -- Frankenstein’s monster himself between your legs, smiling dumbly as he nips at the neglected one before he pushes excessive fabric up and off to reveal more of your form. “Stan, we-- oh my god--”

It’s when he pulls you forward on the bed that you see it: the splotches of deep green coloring the trail Stan is continuing up your thigh with a knowing look.

You laugh at first, starting to push him away so you can properly remove your dress, but he tuts, gripping your hips instead and curling an arm around your thigh, slinging it over his shoulder with an in-character groan: "You go nowhere.

You’re torn between teasing him about the fact that he’s really roleplaying as fucking Frankenstein right now, and the shudder that rolls through you as Stan noses your center through the cotton, saying: “Mine .”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say when his mouth meets between your thighs, teasing your folds through the fabric with a brazen tongue. You let yourself go then, leaning into the anticipation as after a moment Stan tugs the garment down and off, though it catches on your foot and is left dangling there uselessly.

“You’ll be screamin’ for me, don’t you worry,” he says, breath ghosting over your core before fully tucking in.

There’s no energy left in you to scream, but the needy whimpers and moans that escape as he ushers you up towards pleasure are melodic, a siren song that urges Stan to keep delving into your cunt, to hold your thighs open with a possessive grip.

“F-fuck,” you cry, reaching down and threading your fingers through his mop of black-sprayed hair between your legs. He groans mid-lap at your clit, and you gasp as his hands join in on the ministrations, caressing and petting from your hips to your stomach.

It’s when he starts sucking that you start to really writhe, tugging roughly at his locks to push him deeper. He slurps your arousal right up, the sound mortifying yet helping thrust you closer to the fast-approaching peak.

“C’mon, honey,” Stan says, thumb maintaining a rhythm on your clit. “Come for me, darling.”

The foreign pet name does it, sending a rolling orgasm that hits you in waves, crying out Stan’s name and other sweet nothings before going limp.

After a moment he sits back, more than proud as he wipes his mouth and watches you twitch and moan through the lingering pulses.

“Wow-- what was that all about?” You manage to pant out, made curious again as Stan stands suddenly, walking over to the mirror on the far-side of the room.

“Check it out,” he says, bringing the mirror to the edge of the bed and leaning against it with a self-satisfied grin.

Sitting up, your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and glowing-- with a prominent mess of green smeared along your skin, practically outlining each and every touch that made you come undone. A few complete hand prints are even visible, on the backs of your knees, on your hip-- even a comically clear outline against the stark white of your covered chest.

Your face burns hot as you can’t help but laugh in disbelief, both at what you see and the unexpected thrill of it; it’s delightful, and silly, and sexy, and overall just an image you think won’t leave your head for a while.

Stan chuckles at your reaction, pleased. “S’a good look on ya-- damn near electrifyin’ , some might say.”

“Come here,” you ask, arms out to beckon him forward. He does, and you don’t miss the prominent bulge in his trousers as he walks over.

Pulling him down by his shirt, you lock him into an appreciative kiss, raking your nails across his scalp and practically pulling him on top of you to continue the makeout, bed size be damned.

Needing air, you finally break away, glancing back at the mirror to see green now decorating your mouth and cheeks. “You’d missed a spot,” you inform Stan, pointing to the new addition to your face.

He hums, ducking down to nip at your neck and clavicle, painting them just the same. “Could think of a few more spots needin’ a touch-up,” he growls, rolling his hips.

Snaking your hand into the band of his pants, Stan lets out another groan at your touch and when you say lightly into his ear:

“Looks like you could use some white with that green, hmm?”

Happy Spooky Season!! 🎃💚🎃

[Masterlist]

dividers by @strangergraphics and @firefly-graphics

#my writing #stan pines x reader #grunkle stan x reader #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gravity falls reader insert #gravity falls

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discotitsposts · 8 months ago

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You’re lucky you’re cute

reader and reid flirting at the party of a mutual friend

she/her pronouns used

some mature themes and choice words used. overall supposed to be lighthearted and silly

i love this photo so much

You were getting ready for a party a good family friend of yours was hosting. You had known David Rossi since you were a little kid and it’s rumored you were somehow related. Rossi treated you like his own and had been there for you your whole life. He had even helped you out of a few legal jams you’d found yourself in high school.

He had seen you first learn to walk, started school, hugged you while you cried on his expensive suit when you went through your first breakup, and graduate high school. Now you were going through academy training to work at the FBI. You wanted to be just like David.

You had never met anyone on his team in the BAU except Hotch. He had told you about everyone though. You were most excited to meet Penelope she sounded like a ray of sunshine. You were very intrigued by the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid. He sounded very interesting. According to Rossi he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory. How amazing is that? Being a bit of a smarty pants yourself you definitely wanted to talk to him.

You had also learned he was apparently wildly handsome from what some girls at the academy had said. Though you’d never seen a photo of him, he sounded fantastic.

On the drive to Rossi’s mansion you listened to your favorite music. Singing every lyric to kill your nerves. You parked and it seemed everyone else had already arrived.

You ring the doorbell and Rossi opens it. When he sees you he smiles proudly and yells “Principessa! Sei bellissima!” He hugs you and brings you in to meet the team.

“You know Aaron, this is JJ, Emily, this is Derek Morgan.” You shake each persons hand as he says their name.

“Ah, the infamous Derek Morgan.” You say. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Pleasures all mine, gorgeous.” Derek winks at you. Emily punches his arm. “Leave her alone weirdo.” She scolds.

A brightly dressed woman with beautifully styled blonde hair runs into the room carrying two wine glasses and speaking excitedly.

“Is she here yet? Oh hi!!” She pulls you into a big hug.

“You must be Penelope! I’ve heard so much about you. All of you. What about the infamous Dr. Reid? Is he here yet?” You nonchalantly ask.

“She’s developed a little bit of a crush on our good doctor.” Rossi spills.

“I have not!” You pout, embarrassed by this very true fact.

Everyone chuckles. The doorbell chimes loudly through the foyer.

“Uh oh, it’s your future husband.” David teases.

“Keep it up and I’ll pour your vintage scotch down the drain.” You retort. Rossi puts his hands up in defeat and goes to answer the door.

“Here’s the one I want you to meet! Spencer, this is our little star of the FBI academy!” Rossi boasts. Dr. Reid smiles and waves at you. You reach your hand out to shake his and he frowns. They were right. He’s literally so handsome I can barely think. You think. Barely.

“I don’t shake hands. Too many germs. It’s actually safer to kiss.” He tells you.

“Ok, come here then.” You reach out and pucker your lips. Spencer slowly backs away and clears his throat.

“Oh my god, wait no I was joking.” You quickly attempt to retrace what you said. Ever so embarrassed you quickly change the subject. Spencer smiles shyly.

“Anyways, um David told me you have an eidetic memory. I think that’s really fascinating. I actually couldn’t wait to meet you and have a conversation with you. I really really want to get to know more about you! Not that I was obsessed with you before even meeting you, definitely not the case. That would be weird. You’re really cool, I mean you seem cool because how would I know that. I never met you before. Although I was expecting more of a mad scientist look to be honest. You’re really attractive though, I mean your face is scientifically perfect I mean… you know what I’ll be right back” You ramble on and realize you’re embarrassing yourself. It’s not your fault. When you look at Spencer’s face your brain goes to mush.

You excuse yourself and try to run away to the safety of a nearby restroom. Someone grabs hold of your wrist despite the estimated germ count.

“I’d love to get to know you too.” Spencer’s smiling at you.

“You don’t think I’m a crazy rambler?” You ask, worriedly.

“I’m a bit of a rambler myself.” He chuckles and leads you to a nearby couch. You two end up talking for over an hour about everything. He tells you about his mother, his life in Vegas, and how he’s banned from multiple casinos which made you laugh so hard. You tell him stories of Rossi when you were growing up. The time Rossi had choked on some of his pasta when babysitting you and had spat it out through his nose. This makes Spencer crack up.

“Guys look.” Morgan motions to you two talking and laughing. Everyone else at the party looks over.

“I had a feeling they would get along.” Hotch breaks into a smile. Rossi however is scowling.

You leave to refill your root beer and David walks over to Spencer.

“Hey Rossi, she’s really fun to talk to. Thank you for inviting me tonight. I’m having so much fun.” Spencer smiles up at him.

Rossi plasters on a fake smile. “Are you?” Spencer nods happily. Rossi’s face grows serious and he leans in, “Good, because if you hurt her, just remember, I would know exactly how to get away with murder.” Rossi smiles at Spencer and pats his back and walks back to the party. Spencer swallows nervously.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He whispers to himself.

“Wasn’t planning on what?” You walk back in and hand him an extra root beer.

“Nothing. Thanks.” Spencer smiles and opens his root beer.

“So tell me more about when you got kidnapped by a cult leader?” You ask eagerly.

“Well this guy, his name was Benjamin Cyrus. We infiltrated his cult by pretending to be child protective services. Me and Emily got caught in the middle of crossfire. SWAT shot at them, they shot back, and put us all in danger.” He tells you everything about that case. You watch in awe at the way he talks. “Rossi actually brought them fried chicken with a microphone bug in the bucket.” Spencer laughs recalling the silly detail.

“Mmm sounds delicious.”

Rossi has been keeping his eye on you two. You look really happy but he likes having Spencer terrified of him. Your back is to Rossi and when Spencer makes eye contact. Rossi points at you and then Spencer and makes a cutting motion on his throat. This makes Spencer nervous. You notice him turn pale and turn around. You see Rossi is just playing cards with Aaron.

Penelope goes around passing out liquor to everyone. “Bottles for everyone!” She cheers over and over slurring her words. Morgan wrangles her to sit back down, stumbling, also intoxicated. You down your bottle and Spencer watches in shock.

You get crazier and Spencer goes to put the bottle Penelope had handed him, back in the kitchen. You’re dancing or trying to anyway. Spencer accidentally bumps you and you pull him down with you. The bottle in his hand breaks and splashes all over you both. Rossi hears a loud crash and comes into the kitchen.

“What the hell happened in here!” Rossi shouts noticing the red liquid trickling everywhere and you, in a now-red stained dress.

“We fell.” You and Spencer say at the same time.

You giggle, “Jinx!”

“You know the origin of the jinx was actually-“

“Clean this up brainiac!” Rossi cuts him off and hands Spencer a sponge.

“Yes sir.” Spencer falls to his knees and starts scrubbing. You notice the room felt hotter as he did so. Was it the weather or the sight of Spencer working hard?

“I’m sorry you got red wine all over you. You looked really nice. Not that you don’t look nice anymore. You look beautiful. I just feel bad your clothes got stained now.”

“Of all the days to wear a white dress. You’re lucky you’re cute Dr. Reid.”

You pick up a different sponge and help him clean.

“You don’t need to help.” He starts.

“It was partly my fault. Plus I know he’s gonna come in here and try to see if he can see his reflection in the tile. If he can’t,” You make a cracking sound and air-motion bending something, Spencer presumes to be, his neck if the red wine doesn’t come up.

“The guys so rich he can afford someone to professionally clean.” Spencer laughs at this.

“I know! One time when I was seven I accidentally spilled some jam and he told me if I didn’t clean it, all the jam in the world would disappear and I could never eat it ever again.”

Spencer opens his mouth in shock, “That is so mean!”

“It worked though.” You say while scrubbing the floor harder. He laughs so loud. Something he noticed he hadn’t done in a long time.

You decide to push his buttons a little since practically none of the wine got on him. You flick some water and soap at him.

“Hey!” He splashes you with some water back.

You stand up and discreetly grab the water sprayer on the sink and turn it on full blast. Spencer yells and with no way to defend himself, tries to stop the water with his hands. Penelope and Morgan run in and you spray them. Everyone’s laughing so hard you don’t see Emily come up behind you with a bucket of water. She throws it on you and you scream.

“ITS COLD!”

Hotch and Rossi walk in and shake their heads in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed in you all,” Hotch starts. Everyone stops and fearfully looks at him. “for not including me in the fun!” He grabs the water sprayer from you and splashes Rossi. While you’re all fooling around you notice a groundbreaking discovery. Spencer’s lilac purple shirt is completely see through and soaked. His nipples are even hard from the cold water. Hot damn.

You show up behind him and squeeze his hand and pull him to one of the bedrooms. You both lean in and kiss softly. You attack his lips with kisses and soon the kisses mesh together and become messier. He’s moaning into your mouth while you attempt to rip his shirt off.

“Wait.” He stops you. You pull away confused. “If Rossi’s upset about some red wine won’t he be more upset if we get… you know what on the bed?”

“Cum?” You ask. Spencer makes a disgusted face at your choice of words. “Nah only if he comes through with a black light.”

“No I meant the…stains.” He points at your dress, his face completely red.

“Oh this?” You motion to your now red dress. You reach behind you and untie your dress, letting it fall to the ground. You stand in front of him completely bare. Good thing you chose to not wear anything under it this evening.

You start to hum a song while you stalk towards him. When you push him back on the bed you hear a loud knock at the door.

“AHHHHHHHH” Spencer screams while covering his crotch with a blanket. You simply pick your soaked dress off the ground and sloppily put it back on. Rossi continues pounding his fist on the door.

“Tie me.” You command.

“Huh?” Spencer looks up confused and disoriented. You motion to the back of the dress and Spencer ties a cute bow with the strings. His nimble fingers moving as quickly as they’ll allow. He thinks Rossi’s fist might soon break through the door. You calmly walk to the door and carefully turn the knob.

“Hello.” You smile sweetly.

He simply crosses his arms and glares at Spencer. “Both of you, out. Now. I don’t even want to think about what you were thinking of doing in my guest bedroom young lady.” He wags his finger at you. When Spencer stands up to leave, Rossi stops him with his hand.

“Remember what I said I’d do if you hurt her. She’s like a daughter to me.”

“I-I-I won’t David, I was actually going to ask your permission. If I ma-maybe could take her on a date?” Rossi’s eyebrows raise at Spencer’s request, as if to say, tell me more. “I think she’d enjoy a film fest, they’re playing some old monster movies down at the drive in, some are in Russian, but that’s alright because I could translate to her. I’ll have her home by 11:30 I promise.” Spencer’s stumbling over his words nervously.

Rossi bursts out laughing, “Kid she doesn’t live with me anymore. She’s an adult. You don’t need my permission. Hope you two have fun. I was only worried about my sheets!” He runs to the bed fixing the creases you two had made.

After that he asked you if you’d like to go, of course you said yes. That Saturday night you two had so much fun and fell in love even more.

the end :)

pls pls tell me some of u thought this was even a little bit funny

actually pls tell me if u enjoyed this at all

i’m laughing so hard writing the part about his nipples help

fun fact when i wrote the part about reader wearing a white dress i was listening to this

#ms when i procrastinate #Spotify #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mgg x reader

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bees-making-art · 3 months ago

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Beat of the Heart, Chapter One: Electric Feel

This is the start of my silly little LoganxGN!Mutant!Reader story! It will loosely follow the plot of the first x-men movie. Basically just switch out Jean for reader as the center of Logan's romantic affection. Reader has a described power but other than that no physical description. Reader is also a medic/scientist like Jean and Hank. This is also cross posted on A03 if you want to read it there!

“So, do you know what happened to the new arrivals?” you ask Jean, who walks beside you to the in-school infirmary and research bay.

“Not much. I haven't had the time to talk to Scott or Ororo yet. All I know is that one is a teenage girl named Rouge and the one, we will see now, is a man.”

As you reach the door, you give a little hum to show her you're listening. You press your hand to the sensor. The device takes a minute to scan your palm before flashing green and opening the doors.

Beyond the door is a sort of ‘mud room’ that holds lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, and other lab safety clothing. You and Jean both grab your respective lab coats (which have your name embroidered on the inside) and a pair of disposable gloves. Once the equipment is on, Jean compels the glass doors open with her mind, and the two of you walk in.

Immediately, you see the man Jean was speaking of lying on one of the many infirmary gurneys. Completely ignoring him for a moment, you gather a clipboard with pencil and paper to take notes and fill out the general form you have for everyone in the school. Only when you are beside the gurney with your note-taking supplies on the metal table do you really take in his features.

The first thing you notice is that this man is handsome, but you bury that thought in favor of taking actual notes. The man has dark brown hair that is tousled but seems to have been styled into two little animal-ear-like points. His skin is a light tan, which is clearly due to working in the sun. The man's eyebrows are naturally shaped into a furrow, giving even his resting face the appearance of scowling. And on each side of his lower jaw are mutton chops that truly only a man as handsome as him could pull off.

His chest, arm, and stomach muscles are well-defined. You guess this is from the same work that gifted the man his lovely tan. Said places are also covered in a smattering of dark brown hair. It curls out from the center of his chest to the edge, down the valleys of his stomach, and disappears under his pants and over his forearms.

During your inspection, Jean puts little circular, sticky sensors on the man's chest in preparation for the examination machine. Once the sensors are in their correct places, she takes his blood pressure before grabbing the pen on the table to scribble down his results.

You try your best to stay focused on the task at hand and not be distracted by this stranger's attractive visage but it's difficult not to when you have to focus on looking at him. Jean takes notice of your ogling and can't help herself but to smirk, giving your bicep a little nudge. You turn to face her, immediately annoyed at the expression you find on her face.

“Looks like someone is enjoying their research,” she teases in a quiet tone. She uses her powers to hand herself a syringe from the metal table next to the bed, inspecting it to ensure it wasn’t tampered with or damaged.

You roll your eyes at her comment, write down your observations, and fill out the parts of the form you can. The clipboard is set to the side as you grab one of the man's arms, lifting his hand up to inspect it and the pocket of his elbow for any scars or markings. You don't give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you simply elect to ignore her comment.

Jean notices this and giggles as she grabs the man's other arm, lining up the syringe with the crook of his elbow. You place the hand you were holding back onto the bed. With clipboard back in hand, you write that he only has a few faint scars across and in between his knuckles, evidence of fighting but none of injection drug use.

The two of you make eye contact, and after a shared nod, Jean begins to slowly press the needle into his skin and pierce the vein.

What happens next occurs in mere seconds. First, the man's eyes shoot open and flicker between you and Jean. Then he's standing up, pulling his arm away from the shot, the other hand curling around Jean's neck. He’s now standing behind her with his syringe-free arm wrapped around the other to secure it.

The man's eyes dart across the room before landing on you. You mentally note to write down later that his eyes are a deep brown with a speck of Hazel. But nonetheless, you raise your hands to your head to show you have no intent to harm the man.

“Hey! We’re not trying to harm you! I promise we were simply checking you and possibly treating you for injuries that you might have sustained from the crash and fight. We mean you know harm,” you try your best to convince the feral-looking man.

His eyes flick around your face and then the room once more. A noise that sounds more like an animalistic growl than what a human makes leaves his mouth as he lets go of Jean with a shove and rushes out of the room.

Jean coughs and catches her breath, her hands gently holding her own throat as you lower your hands back to your sides. You let out a sigh as you pick up the tossed syringe, placing it next to your clipboard on the table. You walk to Jean and put a comforting hand on her back.

“Well, he’s going to be a fun one,” you grumble, only half sarcastic. Jean’s laugh in response makes a smile cross your face. You pat her back before returning your hand to your side. She stands up straight and smiles at you in return, a quiet ‘thank you’ whispered into the back of your mind. You nod then look to the door where the man had left.

You shake your head and peel off the plastic gloves sticking to your hands, tossing them to the trashcan nearby. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you place it onto the gurney nearby. Jean follows suit as you walk towards the glass door, beridding herself of her lab clothing and taking long strides to catch up with you.

“At least he has a pretty face to look at,” you hum, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. A giggle shoots out of Jean, tossing her head back in the laughter.

“I knew you were checking him out!” Jean teases, making your cheeks redden.

You wave her off as the two of you exit out the second pair of doors, facing the long hallway to the stairs and elevators that lead upstairs. The two of you decide to split up. Jean checks out the rest of the basement while you head upstairs to look through the rest of the mansion.

As soon as you reach the floor level of the estate, a familiar, comforting voice enters your mind. ‘The new mutant is in my office. Please meet us there for proper introductions,' Charles speaks. You assume that he sends the same message to the rest of the X-men.

Luckily for you Xaviors office is only a few minutes walk from where you are currently. You waste no time in walking up the stairs past the many students and down the hall till you reach the ornate door at the front of the professor's office, a little golden plaque displaying his name about a foot and a half above where the handle is.

You turn the handle and slowly push the door open, taking care not to accidentally hit the new mutant if he was standing right in front of it. Once you see that he is not there, you open the door all the way, leaning left against the door frame. You cross your arms in front of your chest. A smirk spreads across your face as you notice the jacket the man has seemingly ‘borrowed’ from the changing room in the basement.

It's a blue-tinted medium gray zip-up jacket. And even though he's turned away from you, you know that there is a blue X-men patch on the left side. The hoodie seems not fully zipped as the fabric is not fully covering his shoulders and slipping down his back, perfectly showing just enough skin to tease your imagination. And god, does it look amazing on him like that.

Charles gestures to you with his left hand, a permanent soft smile on his lips. The man turns to face you. And it reveals just what you were expecting; the zipper is only up to about his sternum. Zipped up just enough to not show off everything but still down enough that you can see his clavicle and his chest that's painted with dark brown hair. It makes you want to slide your hands into the jacket to feel what you cannot see.

But hearing your code name coming from Xaviors mouth pulls you out of your thoughts. You push them far back as you give the man standing before you a little wave, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the room. The deep, woodsy color is something you are slowly becoming acquainted with. A similar smirk to yours is plastered on his face as his eyes sweep over your form. If you didn't know better, you would say he was checking you out.

You put your hand out in front of you, presenting it to Logan for a handshake.

“Or you could just call me by my real name, Y/N. It's nice to meet you again.” This gains you a chuckle from the man and a playful eye roll from Charles. The jacket-donned man clasps his slightly bigger hand to yours and gives a half-hearted shake.

“Names Logan, some call me Wolverine, but I'm willin’ to guess you already knew that, sweetheart,” the tone in which he says the pet name sends a shiver up your spine. And his damned smirk paired with it isn't helping your goal to not get flustered.

So, why not return the favor? At least in some way. Using a bit of energy you always had stored away just in case, you give Logan a little shock. It’s nothing more than one of those prank hand buzzers. But it does get you the desired result, a wince paired with a hiss as he pulls his hand away from yours.

Logan looks down at his hand to find not even a wound to be healed. His gaze turns back up to connect with yours as your smirk turns into a grin. You hold up the hand you just used to shock him, making the ‘devil horns’ with your thumb out. In between the two digits, a small, faintly purple-colored electrical current forms between them.

Logan's eyes drift to it as his hand returns to his side, then back to yours. He rolls his eyes at your unbidden glee. He tries to give off the impression he is not impressed, but you can see the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“I can control electrical currents, manipulate them to make machines do what I want. I can take their energy, store it in my body, and send it back out just like that.” You return the energy you were using back into your body, veins in your hand and arm glowing for no more than a second. Your arms are back to being crossed, along with your shoulder being pressed against the door.

Logan's mouth opens as if he is about to say something, but he shuts it as Scott and Ororo appear in the doorway behind you. They are closely followed by Jean. Who, unbeknownst to you, slips her hand into Scotts.

You move further into the room so that the other three don’t have to stand in the doorway behind you. Ororo is the first to introduce herself with a little wave and her usual kind smile. They each tell Logan their names, code names, and their powers. Jean is the only one able to show it as she lifts a pencil off Charles's desk.

Throughout the entire exchange, Logan keeps an unimpressed look on his face. But it's a little more genuine than with you. You can’t help but giggle a little, covering your mouth with your hand to pass it off as a cough. The two of you meet eyes again, and Logan's lips twitch into a smile at your actions.

Charles notices the two of you no longer paying attention to the others and claps his hands together. All the heads in the room snap to face him as he wheels around to be in front of his finely carved wooden desk.

“Y/N, since the two of you appear to be getting along, please show Logan where his room is and give him a tour of the school.” It sounds like a gentle request, but you can tell from the look on Xavior's face that he is a bit miffed at your behavior.

A blush blooms across your cheeks as you nod.

“Will do, professor,” you respond not a moment later. Your tone is much like that of a student who was just scolded by a teacher, and in some ways, your relationship with Charles was like that.

You turn to face the door to walk out. As you turn your head, you catch Jean's teasing smirk. You roll your eyes at her antics. You nod your head towards the door and only start moving when Logan follows. You only glance at him briefly as you quickly turn to exit. Storm bumps your shoulder almost imperceptibly and winks at you. You narrow your eyes in return to her gesture, waiting for Logan outside the hall.

Once he stands beside you in the hall and the door is closed, you huff and drop your shoulders from where they had been practically pressed to your ears. You feel almost like Logan is looking at you, but you don't bother checking. Taking a step forward, you begin your tour of the institute.

The air around you is filled with awkward tension. And part of you is tempted to let it stay that way lest you become distracted by Logan again. And his stupidly good-looking stolen jacket. However, despite your valiant effort, your eyes flit to Logan's face.

From his side profile, you can see his defined jawline through the facial hair and subtle frown lines that stretch from the edges of his nose to the outer corner of his lips.

Catching yourself, you return your gaze onward. You find yourselves at the top of the staircase before the entrance. You perk up a bit at the opening of conversation.

“This is the entrance to the school; you can access most of the inside areas from here. The kitchen is through there, the student dormitories are down that hallway, and the teachers are opposite. Classrooms are upstairs, as are the rest of the dormitories. Downstairs is where the infirmary, laboratory, and battle practice rooms are,” you explain as you walk down the stairs, pointing to each of the doorways and stairs to tell him what they are.

“We were holding you in the infirmary early if you couldn’t tell, but we also occasionally use it as an extra lab. We have a library and a few common rooms on this level that connect the dorms.”

Turning to Logan, you see him nod, his particular way of showing you he was listening. You flash him a grin and head to the teacher's rooms. Walking down the hallway, you pass by a few students, to whom you give high-fives as you pass.

“I'll show you the room we’re providing you while you're with us. And I’ll tell you whose room is whose in case you ever need any of us.” Logan raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't comment. He just simply follows.

The hallway is mostly just a long series of doors. However, it is occasionally broken up by large windows with couches in front of them, bookshelves, and small tables with decorations and plants on them. As you pass by the doors, you point to each, telling Logan whose room it is and how to remember it.

“These two are Jean and Scott's rooms, though usually they are in one or the other. They’re the first room, so it makes them easy to find. This room right here is Ororo’s, and Hank’s is across from it. You haven’t met him yet ‘cause he's on a mission right now, but he’ll be pretty hard to miss when he returns. Hanks always has blue fur at the threshold, and you can usually hear music from Ororo’s.”

There's a bit more hallway that you two walk before you reach your door, and by some gracious being above, where Charles decided to put Logan. You smile upon seeing the familiar door to your room.

“This one is my room,” you say while pointing at the door. “It’s probably going to be the easiest for you to remember because it's right across from where you will be staying.”

A smirk spreads across Logan's lips, and he turns to you. “And I’m sure that was by complete accident; it's definitely just a coincidence.” He nudges your shoulder teasingly as he walks to the door of his new room.

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his insinuation.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t have a say in how rooms are picked; that's all Xaviors doing. Trust me, if I had any say, I would be on the top floor with my window facing the backyard.”

Logan's smirk never leaves as he opens the door. The nod he sends your way gives you the impression that he doesn’t entirely believe you. He steps inside the room, looking around. You walk in behind Logan but stay near the door.

“All the rooms have separate bathrooms, so don't worry about sharing. Right now, all we have is basic clothes for you, but feel free to get yourself some new ones. The closet's that door right there if you do,” you point to each door after explaining their respective purpose.

The room is in its basic cookie-cutter style, which all of them start with: plain off-white walls with wood paneling and crown molding. A window facing the outside has a plain queen-sized bed right under it. All of the cloth in the room is the same cream color. It gives the feeling of a hotel.

Logan turns to face you after sitting on the bed's edge. Arms propping him up from behind and legs mildly spread.

“What? Don't want me wearing your fancy X-men clothing?” Is his only response to anything you said. You smile and roll your eyes at him, one of your hands resting on your hips.

“No, I just got the impression that you wouldn’t want to wear Scott's hoodie,” you gesture to the gray zip-up, which, in your opinion, looks better on him than it ever has on Scott. "And he won’t be too happy about it either. “

The way Logan looks at you can only be described as incredulous, disgust, and dread all rolled into one. It almost makes you laugh. But you manage to keep it at just an amused smile.

“You're just saying that to get me shirtless again.”

You give him a shrug with your hands raised, “You don't have to believe me, but I can bet you $100s that Scott's name is on it.” The man grumbles under his breath about something you don’t quite catch as he unzips the jacket and strips it off.

You’re tempted to look, but you peel your eyes away to show Logan you are being truthful and don't just want to see him shirtless. As you look away, you’re reminded again of how bare the room is.

“You can also decorate how you like. Charles just asks to keep it child-appropriate in case one of them has to come in here.”

Logan chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses Scott's jacket to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I won’t get anything too ‘adult’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says, ‘adult.’ You smile in return as you catch the jacket. You drape it over one of your arms, willing everything that you don’t blush or start glowing.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you earlier, but the laundry room is further down the hall. It has a little plaque, so you won't miss it. You know, for whenever you do get your own clothes.”

You expect him to laugh at your retort, but he gives you this quiet smile instead. Not a smirk, a genuine smile, albeit a very small one, but a smile nonetheless. It makes a bundle of butterflies spread through your chest. Much like the blush, you try your best to suppress the feelings. You don’t need your powers giving you away this early.

All he says in response besides the smile is a simple, “thanks.”

You smile wider in return and give him a little nod. You turn and exit through the doorway, turning to him once you're past the threshold.

“I’ll be across the hall or in the lab if you need anything.” You close the door behind you and walk over to your own. You let out a relieved sigh once in the safety of your room. A faint purple glow begins to emanate from your veins. A result of you releasing the hold on your powers. Once the light fades, you take a moment to collect yourself before leaving to return to the lab.

Hope you all enjoyed! I can't promise a consistent schedule but I'll aim for a chapter a week. Thank you to my friend c20w for beta reading! And credit to strangergraphics for the beautiful banners!

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a-most-beloved-fool · 2 months ago

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One potential Tarsus IV side effect that I don't think I've seen much of is Kirk not really having hunger cues.

This would mean that Kirk might forget meals regularly, especially when particularly busy or dealing with crises. A high-tension week may pass, and Kirk will look back on it and realize that he ate about ten meals during that six or seven day stretch, and oops, he's really rather lightheaded now, but if he tries to eat a full meal he'll definitely make himself sick. so he has to start with, like. One Cracker and a glass of water, and slowly build up to real food again.

Spock and Bones, upon learning this about him, would be mother hens. They would take it upon themselves to make sure he eats, both by coercing Kirk to take meal breaks, and by carrying around ration bars and fruit.

Spock would be able to Tell whenever Kirk forgot to eat breakfast and would silently hand him some kind of snack, which Kirk would then sheepishly accept. If he decided they'd all been on the bridge for too long, he'd send a yeoman to pick up sandwiches for everyone, and he'd forgive Chekov for smearing mayo on his controls, because if everyone else was eating, Kirk would remember, too. He'd bring out grazing-food, like a cheese board or nuts, during their chess matches that Kirk could snack on. (and then he'd do his very best not to blush when Kirk licked his fingers clean.)

Bones would help Kirk set up and maintain meal schedules and plans, and make sure that he got all the nutrition he needs even during bad eating weeks (by hypo-ing at abandon, if need be, though he'd prioritize Actual Food). He'd mandate meal-breaks, and physically drag Kirk down to the mess, if necessary.

Both of them would make a point to eat meals with Kirk whenever possible, because it's harder to forget when you've got company. Whenever either Spock or Bones was busy or otherwise out-of-commission, the other would become doubly diligent about taking meals with Kirk. (If Kirk was sitting at Spock's side in sickbay, McCoy would bring meals to the bedside and would eat with him, ignoring his "don't bring food to sickbay" rule.)

(Personally, I like the idea of Spock later becoming known around Starfleet Academy for always having food available for hungry cadets. His desk would constantly be stocked with fourteen different types of ration bars just to make certain he had something available for everyone with specific dietary needs, and any time a cadet forgot breakfast or lunch, they'd know they could go to him. McCoy would offer the same to his patients.)

(Sorry, I'm going to talk about the side effects of starvation for a minute underneath here, don't read if that's rough on you. It's not graphic. I wrote all that out before realizing that it wasn't really necessary for my little fandom post, but didn't want to just. delete it.)

(also, please note that I'm not a food scientist or expert. this is all generally correct, to the best of my knowledge, but I'm not going to promise that I've got the correct terminology, nor am I going to claim that I know better than anyone else)

If you skip a meal or two, or you just don't get enough to eat, you get hungry. Your stomach growls and aches, and it generally kinda sucks. It's a constant discomfort, because you body is telling you, "Hey, I need food. Now, ideally."

If you continue not eating, or not getting enough to eat, though - your body adapts. It knows that saying, "I'm hungry!" isn't doing much. It assumes that there isn't food for you to eat, because if there was, surely you'd be eating it. And, well, it's a little pointless to have an alarm going "Eat now, eat now!" when you can't.

So it stops sending hunger cues.

You don't feel 'hungry' anymore, in the classic sense, at least. You still need food, but your stomach doesn't hurt. Maybe you feel a bit lightheaded, or a bit hollow, but you're not constantly aching. This is part of starvation mode.

For as long as you continue not getting enough food, this stays true. When you are once again consistently eating the amount your body needs, eventually, you will come out of starvation mode. Your body will resume hunger cues.

Except, sometimes it doesn't.

Sometimes, even when you're able to eat as much as you need once again, your hunger cues just. Don't come back. You forget to eat a meal? You might not even notice, because you didn't get hungry about it. It becomes hard to tell when you need food because you don't get hungry.

This means that you have to be careful about keeping on top of things. It becomes really easy to slip back into poor eating habits - even if your original bad eating habits were manufactured by poor circumstance. You might need eating schedules, or food that's less draining to prepare, or to start going to restaurants, but you have to find some way to manage it to stay healthy.

#also adhd is a common headcanon for Kirk and it ALSO often results in people flat out forgetting meals even if they do get hungry #tried to use the most common tags for this so hopefully people who don't want to see food issues manage to avoid it #but if i should add any other tags lmk #tw skipping meals #eating disorders #tw eating issues #eating issues #tw ed descussion #tos #star trek #tarsus iv #james t kirk #star trek tos

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 1 year ago

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Enemies With Benefits (3)

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: Enemies. That was what you were. She was an Avenger, you were a criminal. You should hate her, she should hate you. So why do you love the feeling of her skin pressed against yours? Moans spilling from her lips? The taste of her on your tongue?

Casual, rough sex. That was all it was supposed to be but soon feelings start to get involved. Would something so scandalous be able to last?

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Hydra, Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture

General Masterlist | Enemies with Benefits Masterlist

Chapter 3- Surprise

As soon as you entered the grand hall, your eyes scanned around the room to search for your target. On the USB there was a file regarding an ex hydra scientist who not only performed on innocent people, which resulted in them dying, but he also abused many of his subjects, especially the young girls he managed to get a hold of.

Men and women in elegant outfits, showing off their wealth littered the room yet you paid no notice to the few looks sent your way from them, the lust in some of their eyes as you walked past in your suit. All black was always the way to go, it was the best colour to hide the blood stains after you had your way with a target.

You made your way to the bar, ordering yourself a drink before a woman sat next to you, her body closer than necessary to grab your attention.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Romanoff?” you say, not turning away from your drink as the redhead receives her own drink and takes a small sip.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pin you to this table and handcuff you?” she says with a little bite in her words.

“Hmm let me think,” you murmur, pretending to be deep in thought for a moment earning a glare from your side. You roll your eyes at her serious state and mumble how boring she is before answering, “Because I’m your favourite bad guy? Oh wait no, because you’d know I’d enjoy it too much,” you turn to her with a wink, her palm colliding with your cheek making a few people look over before losing interest. You rub the spot she just slapped, her expression stoic as you stare at her in disbelief, “You’re not one of my favourite Avengers anymore, that was just rude.”

“Cut the bullshit,” her tone dangerous, “This isn't a game Y/n. Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are,” you turn back to your drink, your eyes looking around the room as you take a small sip.

“And that is?” You let out a sigh at her words, annoyed you now have to deal with the Avengers meddling in your plans.

“Look, let’s ‘cut the bullshit’, we both want the Hydra prick, so why don’t we just make this easier for everyone?” she raises her eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue, “Let me take care of him and you can all have tonight off, maybe you could go and learn to have fun somewhere.” She shakes her head at you, a breathless laugh escaping her.

“I don't think that’s going to happen,” you turn to her as she speaks, looking behind her to see if the man has entered yet.

“Why not? Is it because you don’t want to be a fun person?” She can see your smirk as you raise the glass to your mouth and holds back from slapping the smug and annoying look on your face.

“Because your methods of ‘taking care of them’ are inappropriate and illegal,” she’s read all the files on you and even seen you in the flesh as you punish whatever guilty soul you could catch.

“It’s not inappropriate, it’s what they deserve,” your voice loses the teasing tone, becoming more cold and angered. “Do you really think I’m just going to let you take them, stick them in a cell for the rest of their lives that protects them from the people that want them dead? I thought you were smarter than this Romanoff.” She sighs at you, but you're too focussed on seeing the man walk in, a smile plastered on his face as he greets the surrounding people. “Lovely speaking to you Miss Romanoff but I must say goodbye now,” you say with a sarcastic tone, your hand grabbing hers and raising it to your mouth to place a kiss on, her pulling away her hand at the dramatic gesture.

“If you carry on like this, you’ll end up in one of those cells,” she warns but you're already gliding through crowds of people to find the scientist.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice calls out, her arm interlocking with yours, holding you back.

“Not now my little witch,” you say, keeping your voice calm as you stare ahead, the man talking to a woman and standing a little too close to her and, judging by the expression on her face, it wasn’t welcomed, “I have to work.”

“All work and no play?” she echoes your words from a few nights ago, her hand cupping your jaw and making you look at her.

“Yes, I’m a very busy woman at the moment so, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.” You slip out of her grasp but she moves forwards and pulls you back, your anger rising now as you can’t let another one get a life of safety in an Avenger’s cell.

“I can’t let you do that,” she says, an indecipherable emotion in her voice. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” she purrs in an attempt to distract you. Your attention from the man falters for a split second, moving to gaze at her lips for a brief moment before returning to where the man was. You swear under your breath at the fact he’s gone, along with the woman, and turn back to the witch.

“This will be your only warning,” your voice low as you whisper at the shell of her ear, “ Stay out of my way.”

“Or what?” she challenges you, a low chuckle immediately leaving you.

“You should have kept your mouth shut,” you mutter, “Enjoy the surprise I will send you later.” With that said, you pull away harshly and leave to find the man, pushing a person into Wanda who then spills her drink on her dress, the other woman starting a scene with the witch making it impossible for her to follow you.

***

Wanda’s leg bounces as the other Avengers bicker between themselves, arguing about how they failed to bring in the scientist as well as how they lost them to you. Her fingers twirled the rings on her fingers, her thoughts out of control while the rest continued to speak. Her entire body froze when her phone vibrated in her pocket, a video and text being sent to her phone.

Unknown: I hope you enjoy your surprise :) See you soon my little witch Press play to watch video

Swiftly, she leaves the room, no one noticing her absence as they were too focussed on the argument, and heads towards hers room. Her fingers shakily pressed the play button, the phone taking a moment to load the video up.

“Hello my little witch” your voice can be heard over the groans of pain in the background. “I promised you a surprise, I hope you enjoy it,” the camera moves as you walk across the room, supposedly in an abandoned building. Soon, the man from earlier appears on screen, blood dripping down the side of his face, his white shirt unbuttoned showing the deep slashes across his chest. His head sluggishly raised to meet the camera, tears streaming down his face while a cloth was tied around his mouth to muffle the noises that left him. “Oh come on, smile for the camera,” you taunt the man, clearly unable to do so with the gag.

“Help,” the man screams behind the gag, but you only laugh in response.

“Stop with the pathetic pleads,” you groan in annoyance, moving closer to him. The bruising on his face is clearer on the phone as you move till the camera is practically in his face. “Now let’s say goodbye to witchy.” He glares at you but you're too busy trying to hold the camera still, not letting it shake with your laughter.

“Fuck you,” he manages out quite clear and you just tsk at him.

“Sorry for my rude guest,” the camera moves till it’s on your face, his blood staining your neck and collar bones. “Goodbye my little witch,” you say, a charming smile on your face as the video ends.

As soon as the video ends, she’s leaving the room, heading for the exit of the compound to find you. It doesn’t take long for her to reach your apartment, her fist pounding on the door. When you don’t answer, she tries the handle to find the door unlocked. She strides into your apartment, seeing your jacket laid across a chair along with your shoes near the door that shows you’re here.

“Y/N,” she grits out, walking through your apartment till she hears the water of the shower running. She wastes no time in heading towards the bathroom, her magic almost pulling the door off its hinges as it flies open. You turn around in the shower, smirking over your shoulder as you see her through the glass panel. The water around you is red, the dried blood on your body slowly washing off.

“It’s rude to walk in on people showering unless you plan on joining them,” you murmur, continuing your shower as if she wasn't there.

“Out. Now,” she seethes out, eyes glowing red while her fingers twitch with her magic.

“ Or what?” your sneer back, turning around in the shower, the blood now clean from your toned body.

“There is no fucking or what. Out.” Her voice sends a shiver down your spine and you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and not bothering to wrap a towel around yourself as the water drips down your body.

“Why did you do it?” her voice wavers with anger and sadness, almost disappointment, as she looks at you. “We were going to put him in a cell to rot in for the rest of his life,” her finger jabs into your chest, pushing you back slightly before she uses her magic to wrap a towel around you so she can push you against the wall. A groan leaves your lip at the force of her shove, the wall colliding with your back painfully.

“I gave him what he deserved,” you grit out, “Do you even know what he did?”

“He still didn’t deserve to die,” she argues and you scoff at her. “He should have suffered in prison for years, not been killed.”

“You’re telling me that a man who used people, children however he wanted, didn’t deserve what I did to him.”

“You should have handled it differently,” she sighs out irritated, walking away from you and sitting on the edge of your bed. You pull on a robe and follow after her, leaning against your drawers as she stares at you.

“I didn’t kill him,” you whisper after a few moments of silence, hope glinting in her eyes.

“Where is he-”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t already dead,” your hands run through your hair before massaging your temples. Why were you telling her this? “I sent his location to a few people who wanted him dead, he was still alive when I left him.”

“Where?” you stare at the hopeful look in her eyes, noticing how much it contrasts from her lust-filled ones, how it’s somehow even more alluring. You give in, writing down the address which she quickly types into her phone, most likely in a message to a fellow Avenger as you move to change. “Thank you,” she whispers, making you turn around to look at her. You hate how it made you feel warm inside when she said those two little words and clenched your jaw in anger at yourself. What were you doing?

“Unless you want me to fuck you, get out,” your voice is emotionless while you move to grab the bottle of whiskey from one of the drawers.

“Y/n..” her face contorts to confusion at your sudden shift in mood, a frown now on her face.

“Yes or no?”

“Y/n-” she tries again but you cut her off, walking close till you're towering over her.

“It's a simple answer, if you say yes, I’ll pin you to that bed and have you screaming my name,” her breath hitches at your words, “if you say no, you can get out and go be the hero you so desperately want to be.”

Wanda’s entire body freezes at what you just said, a new wave of anger washing over her. She scoffs as she pushes you away, “At least I’m trying to be a hero unlike you.” You glare at her while the green in her eyes turn red again. “Y/n and her fucked up ways of trying to save the world,” she practically mocks before walking away. “Talk to me when you’ve learnt how to stop being a dick,” she shouts before the front door slams shut.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #eventual smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #the avengers #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #natahsa romanoff #natasha romanoff

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caliosi · 4 months ago

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I have- a lot of feelings about color symbolism in character design, especially how it interacts with other characters in that media.

So anyway, here are my thoughts in relation to two pieces of obscure media that I can’t stop thinking about, The Glass Scientists and Ghost Trick. Major spoilers for Ghost Trick! This game has a fantastic story with a really good twist so I recommend if you have any interest in it at all, go check it out before you read this!

So, in TGS Jekyll has a very obvious red motif and Hyde a green one

These are two complimentary colors, which in and of themselves have some fun ideas to discuss. Complementary colors are two complete opposites on the color wheel. But as the name suggests, these two colors also go really well together. To make something beautiful a good choice would be to have both these colors. But you also can’t have equal amounts of both with the same vibrancy or shade throughout the whole thing or there will be no harmony. These two will always go together like this, opposites but work together to make the full depth and beauty that a person has to be a person. To avoid making things messy, you choose moments when green gets to be the main color and red gets to shine through to make each other pop and the other way around.

There is also something to be said about the fact that Jekyll is red and Hyde is green. Red most commonly is associated with things like anger, hatred or just evil and green is usually considered good. Now this isn’t always the case though, there are times green is associated with things like poison and red is associated with passion. The only thing that I am stuck on is the descriptor of passionate more suites Hyde’s public persona. If anyone has any ideas as to why Jekyll is represented by red I would love to hear it.

Now in Ghost Trick (spoilers) the two characters I am going to talk about is Cabanela and Yomiel. These two have the same color palette for their clothing, red white and black, the only difference is with Yomiel his main color is red with a white accent and Cabenela’s main color is white with an accent of red.

It is already pointed out in the game that Cabanela’s white coat represents his ‘spotless record’ or the fact that he does good, but he always has that scarf weighting down on his neck, the time he was responsible for Yomiel’s death. With Yomiel he is covered in the red, all the bad things he has done, but there is a sliver of white, he wants to be a good person that is his humanity. They are opposites but at the same time, they are the exact same. Now, this may be a real stretch but... at the very end of the game, when we see Yomiel in prison he has on a pink frock. The red and white combined. He is still going to forever have that red on him, he always did what he did, but he lightened it, he will be better and he, unlike Cabanela who separates the bad thing he did from his good, has excepted that part of himself into who he is and he won’t run away from it.

Anyway, go read The Glass Scientists and play Ghost Trick (or at least watch a play through) if you haven’t! They are both wonderful pieces of media about humanity and identity and highly recommend them especially if you like to over analyze things!

#tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #tgs #the glass scientists #ghost trick yomiel #ghost trick spoilers #ghost trick #ghost trick cabanela #overanalyzing #literature #thoughts #ramblings #i have an obsession #lots of feelings

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jadedxhearts · 7 months ago

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𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

Monet seems to ignore the fact that Law is your husband, constantly flirting with him and insulting you. One evening, after she gets too bold, you and Law make a plan that will let her know he’s yours and only yours.

originally posted on Feb 27, 2023

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

When you’d joined Law on his trip to Punk Hazard to begin the execution of his plan, you really didn’t know what to expect.

You knew to expect cold weather, at the very least. Or even extreme hot temperatures. But you wouldn’t be heading over to that side of the island.

You also knew that there was some strange scientist guy who lived in the once abandoned laboratory. Law had mentioned him being rather annoying.

But what you did not expect was for the scientist’s assistant to be such a bitch. The green haired woman seemed to have a vendetta against you from day one, constantly acting passive aggressive and treating you as though you were inferior to her.

One of the incidents, you couldn’t even remember what the conversation had been about; all you remembered from before the incident was that you’d been sitting with Law in the lounge room, waiting for dinner to be ready.

The bird-woman was reading a book, as was Law. You simply leaned against your husband, occasionally looking into his book and reading along. But truthfully, you weren’t very interested.

“Law,” Monet called, “this book is rather interesting, I think you should read it, as a fellow intellectual being. You’d understand it more…”

“More?” He questioned, not even looking in the woman’s direction.

“Hm,” she hummed as though she were giggling, “well, no offense, but I don’t think somebody is smart enough to truly know what this book’s deeper meaning is.”

You knew it was a dig at you. “Excuse me?” You piped up, glaring in her direction.

“Oh, did I let that slip?” she laughed. “You’re just… you know…”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re implying, but you can fuck off, Monet,” you snapped before turning to your husband. “Law, can we please eat in our room tonight?”

“To think such an intelligent man would want to share a room, let alone his life, with a woman like her,” she muttered. “Odd.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, grabbing Law by his wrists and pulling him up from the couch and dragging him out of the lounge.

That was a couple weeks ago now. You’d been avoiding the woman like the plague, seeing her maybe twice since that evening.

Tonight though, you’d have to face her and her bullshit once again.

—

Caesar had demanded all the “important” people come have dinner together, with drinks and excellent food promised. Some sort of party, you supposed. For what reason though? It wasn’t like any of you had anything to celebrate.

Regardless, you followed your husband to the lounge room, which you found to be more decorated than usual when you entered the room.

There was a table put out in the middle of the room, plates and wine glasses at each seat. Along with name tags. Apparently there was a seating chart. Great.

You went to check it out, only to look at the arrangement in horror.

Of course, you’d been placed next to Law. But… directly next to him, on the opposite side from you, was a little card that read “Monet” in a fancy font.

“Absolutely not,” you protested, gaining Law’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to look where you were.

Then he saw it. “Great. Bet that asshole did it on purpose, too.”

“This is so stupid,” you pouted. “Why can’t we just eat where we want?!”

But it seemed as if you had no choice, so you sat down.

—

Halfway through dinner, and you found yourself somehow not being verbally attacked every five minutes. In fact, Monet hadn’t said a word to you or Law. Really, you were shocked she was capable of keeping her mouth shut for more than five minutes. Maybe she’d finally learned to do so?

Until right as dessert was being brought out. You’d assumed wrongly.

“Oh my,” the green haired woman mused, picking at the pastry with her fork, “this looks delicious, doesn’t it Law?”

“No,” he deadpanned.

“No?” She echoed, “Not a fan of sweets?”

Law didn’t respond.

“That’s too bad, I was hoping to maybe take you out on a date, treat you real sweet. Much sweeter than that tramp over there could.”

You slammed your hands onto the table, accidentally gaining everybody’s attention.

“What’s you’re fucking deal, bitch?!” You screamed at her, staring with an amount of hatred you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling.

You were shaking, your throat feeling as though it were closing up. And why were you about to cry? Because some jealous woman called you a name?

Monet only laughed, though. “Oh goodness. It seems I’ve upset her.”

“I’m sick of your bullshit, Monet! Stay the fuck away from me and my husband,” you yelled, putting emphasis on the fact that Law was already yours; just to spite her.

Before she could react, Law stood up and pulled you away from the table, out of the room.

“L-Law! What are you doing?! I need to tear that bitch’s hair out!” You protested.

“As much as I’d love to see that,” Law grumbled, “there’s something else I want to do.”

You had no clue what that could mean. Until you reached the room you shared with Law, and he promptly pushed you onto the bed, suddenly kissing you.

“What’s your deal, Law?! Why are you- oh,” you whined as he sucked on the skin around your collarbone.

“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t find that hot,” Law smirked into your skin, “my husband,” he repeated your words from before.

“H-huh? You what-“

“I like it when you’re jealous, y/n-ya. It’s cute.”

“J-jealous?! No, that’s not it-“ you denied his words.

“Don’t lie,” he nipped at your skin to make you shut up. “I see the way you glare at any girls who look my way, how you move to sit in my lap when we’re at taverns and random women approach. And now this…

“It’s hot,” he said, kissing you directly on the lips. “But now… I intend to let her know who’s mine. Whom the only person that can have my heart is.”

“What?” You questioned. His statement was rather sweet, but you were confused, “how? We’re locked away in here…”

“Don’t forget who our neighbor is,” Law reminded you.

That’s right… Monet did sleep in the room to the left of your’s and Law’s. If you were noisy enough, she’d hear, even through the thick metal walls. You knew this because one morning she’d insulted you for talking so loudly the previous night. Naturally, you’d been talking about your dislike of her after she’d made yet another comment about you earlier that day.

Law’s tattooed hand cupped your face and pulled it toward himself, deepening the kiss, and then he began sucking on your tongue. When his other hand brushed against your breasts only to land just above them, holding you down, you let out a soft whine.

“I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Caesar asshole will kick us off this damned island,” Law muttered, biting down on the already marked skin on your neck.

“Law,” you whined, leaning into his touch. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please… fuck me,” you panted, feeling dizzy.

You didn’t have to ask Law twice. He made quick work of pulling everything you wore off, stripping you down to only your panties before he threw the long fuzzy coat he wore off of himself.

He began palming at your breasts, squeezing them and brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. All the while kissing you again, only this time he was fully making out with you, leaving your mixed saliva all around your lips, the loud wet noises filling the air every time your mouths reconnected.

One of his hands left your chest to begin rubbing your covered cunt, pressing his fingers into the fabric of your panties and pushing against them so hard they turned wet with your slick.

“L-Law!” You gasped, grabbing his hair and turning your head to the side.

Removing his other hand from your breast, he grabbed your face and pulled it back towards his, locking you in place.

Deciding you were wet enough, Law pushed your panties aside, gathering your wetness around two of his fingers before inserting them into your tight cunt.

You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips into his hand.

“So impatient,” Law sighed as though he were disappointed.

He scissored his fingers within you, seeing if he could stretch you enough to insert a third so soon.

Feeling the third tattooed digit enter, you cried out louder than before.

Law fingered you at a quick pace, encouraging you to come on his fingers and cry for him. “Come on, cum, you little slut. Cum around my fingers so you’ll scream even louder when I shove my cock in your sore pussy.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge for the first time. You pulled on his hair and moaned into his mouth, lifting your hips up into his hand as you came.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers out of your soaked cunt and licking the juices off.

Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his hand, he pulled his jeans down and prepared himself for you, revealing his hardened cock as he freed it.

He moved to position himself between your legs, but you snapped them shut. “N-no, it’s too much,” you whined. “Too sensitive.”

“I don’t care,” Law spat, shoving your legs open with his free hand. “That’ll make it better, don’t you see? This way you’ll scream louder, and that stupid woman will hear you. She’ll finally know who owns me.”

You shuddered. You’d expect Law to say possessive things like “I own you”, but you owning him? That was new. But… you liked the way you’d felt when he’d said it.

“Beg for it,” Law demanded, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

“Ah, fuck- I need you, Law-“ you moaned, “need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cum, please!”

“Fill you up? That wasn’t discussed before,” Law chuckled, the hand that wasn’t holding his cock moving to brush against your clit.

“Y-yes! I need to be bred like a bitch,” you shouted, surprised you could even speak like this. “Breed me so that brat knows who I belong to, please, Law.”

Without another word, Law lined himself up with your hole and began pushing in, stretching your velvety walls. You whined as he began filling out more, before purposely moaning as loud as you could;

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big, Law! I can’t take it-“ you threw your head back into the mattress, squeezing your legs around his hips.

“Yes you can, you’ll take it like the stupid little slut you are,” Law pulled your legs off of his hips and moved them to his shoulders, pushing further into you and deepening his cock so far that you were afraid he’d somehow break you.

As he began thrusting at a quick pace, he used the hand that wasn’t gripping your hip to wrap around your throat.

“Cry for me, tell me how much it hurts.”

“L-Law! It’s- mmh!” You whined, feeling light headed from the pressure on your throat.

“What? Can’t breathe?” Law taunted you, fucking into your hips even harder now.

After another moment of slowly cutting off your air supply, Law released the hold on your throat and you gasped for air, choked moans sputtering passed your lips.

“Law,” you moved your hands to grab his hair again. “I can’t do it anymore, I’m gonna-“

“Shh. It’s alright, cum for me, baby. Cum around my cock as I fill you up and stuff you full of my cum.”

“Please, Law- fuck… I-,” you choked out through moans that were nearly screams.

Law grunted loudly, growling in your ear as he bit down on your shoulder, shoving his cock as far into your cunt as possible before holding himself there and letting his hot seed spill into you, filling you to the womb.

You screamed his name, tugging on his hair as you sobbed from the overstimulating amount of pleasure.

After holding you as close to his body as possible, Law finally let go of you, pulling himself out of your aching cunt.

“Shit, look at the mess you made,” Law chuckled, turning to grab a cloth from the bed table and wiping the mixed juices away from your trembling body. “We’re gonna have to request new sheets.”

As you regain your composure, you lifted your head up to smirk at your husband. “I know somebody we can ask… they’re right next door, after all.”

“How convenient,” Law returned the smirk, before moving his head to kiss your lips once more.

#law x reader #law x reader smut

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medecineformelancholy · 4 months ago

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For Chapter 20 of I Really Enjoyed Getting to Spend This Time With You by @rngaredead 🩷

If you want to read a season 3 fix-it for Ted and Trent with love letters (covered up as a certain sports book and other), a million of beautiful quiet moments, getting to know each other and finding themselves in the process, the heartbreak of a ticking clock, an epic romcom moment including an airport, and just about all the feelings one can fit into written word, my friend HERE has you covered.

But the true heart of the story is Catherine - Trent's best friend, biggest cheerleader and a voice of reason in his beautiful silly head. (See also: a brilliant scientist with a passion for teaching, an absolute menace of a gossip and a lovely mess). And I think she has some wisdom for all of us.

Here are some of my favourite quotes from Catherine (SPOILERS I GUESS?)

------

🩷“You can’t see anyway. That’s why you’re the one with glasses.”

🩷“Well, Trent Crimm, The Independent… I too am independent, as you’ve probably figured out.”

🩷“Feelings are messy. But feeling something—even if it’s rotten right now—means it was real.”

🩷“You finish the book, babe. Get it all out.”

🩷“Walk toward him, Harriet. Fly, you fool.”

🩷“Yeah, well, [Roy]'s scary and you listen to him. So maybe you should listen to me.”

🩷“You need to find your light again. Ted’s not the actual answer to anything, but you owe it to yourself to see if he’s part of how you get back to being you. Or maybe even you getting to be you for the first time?”

🩷“Don’t be sad about later when you still have some now to feel something wonderful. I know this is too much for you, but I think that’s a good thing. And I think deep down, you do too.”

🩷“We can’t have three puppies.”

🩷“I love you. And he does, too. So go on.”

#I am fully aware this is going to reach 3 people #i promise more tedtrent art #but i wanted to celebrate my favourite character #thank you forever and always friend #and everyone better go and READ THE STORY #rngaredead #I really enjoyed getting to spend this time with you #ted lasso fic #tedependent fic #art #original charater art

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zelda-cooper · 7 months ago

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My version of Loonatics Unleashed (Part 3)

This is just my interpretation of this universe of "Loonatics Unleashed", don't take it as a summary of the series or as absolute truth to interpret your version. NO! It's just MY view and you have every right to disagree. Furthermore, there will be low-level words (even though I censor some) and there may be sensitive topics for certain people. Besides, this refers to the universe of Loonatics Unleashed, so for those who don't care, you can skip this blog, but for those who are a fan or if this interests you, you can continue reading. Part one of this blog is at the link below if you want to see it.

Part 1

Part 2

Hi I came back! And this time with bombastic news (And I hope no one has forgotten me at this point-). This time it's going to be a simpler blog because today, I'm finally going to show the Redesigns of the protagonists of my version of Loonatics Unleashed! For those who want, the links to see my journey through this madness are there at the beginning, I don't want to go into detail here because I'm really, like... VERY excited to show them soon! So, let's go!

Credits again to @drakepad-luv-200, who was the person who inspired me to make this crazy saga!

Protagonists' Visuals (Reinvented/Redesigned)

Let's go, I wanted to start by saying that this was one of the parts where procrastination came STRONG... Because, first... I had to consider their new personality, think about the pose that would represent this, the clothes that would have a heroic look and, at the same time, is minimally simple to draw... And that's not easy...TuT

So I had to get a lot... But A LOT OF REFERENCES!!! And in this I have to talk about two artists who inspired me and who I NEED to give credit to thank them for how incredible they are! The first is @onyxonline, who is currently making a Smilling Crittens AU called Space Riders AU (I highly recommend reading it). She also has her Loonatics AU and her visuals are AMAZING! I really like her style, something very Anime and such. She helped me a lot with some clothes.

The second is @theangrycomet-art, he, in this case, helped me a lot with the proportions and also with the bodies of some characters. His art is very clean and he made sketches of how they would look. I also highly recommend checking out his blogs!

But now... Time to talk about MY Redesigns! Let's start with the Bunny brothers: Ace and Lexi!

For Ace's design, I wanted to give him a pose of a somewhat inexperienced leader, "mainly protagonist" and who is good at fighting (even on the street), I put looser clothes and bands on his arms to symbolize him as a fighter.

As for Lexi, I gave her a cuter look that could show a heroine power. I gave them very long clothes and some extra accessories. This was one of the easiest.

Danger Duck

Danger Duck was also reasonably easy (the pose was difficult, but ok-), I took a lot of inspiration from Darkwing Duck (because the personalities even match and are really similar), a very arrogant pose, a calm one to symbolize that he is the "most incredible hero of all time". The beak wasn't difficult, because... I draw a lot of ducks...-3-)

Tech E. Coyote and Rev Runner

MY GOD!!! TECH'S MUZZLE AND REV'S HAIR WAS HARD!!!! But it was worth it, I think... The Rev wasn't too difficult, I picked up some references from marathon runners and a scarf and glasses to add some charm. Tech I mixed a bit of scientists, but also a more "Mad Max" look with the torn shorts and scarf around his neck, I also took the opportunity to show him wearing the glove and projecting a holographic screen.

And finally, Slam Tasmanian.

This one was difficult, but it was one of the most fun. I got the fighter vibe and also made sure he had a muscular physique, I made his fur simulate a beard to make him look older and I gave him some stylized gloves to give him something similar to boxing gloves.

Final Considerations

Well... That's it, folks! It was actually shorter because I wanted to talk about the redesigns (and because my life is pretty busy these days-). I'll still work on Zadavia and us villains, I'll also show two of my OCs that will be relevant to the plot, but that's for another day. I hope you enjoyed it and I’ll see you in the next blog! BYE!!!!

#looney tunes #loonatics unleashed #loonatics #lexi bunny #ace bunny #danger duck #tech e. coyote #tech e coyote #slam tasmanian #rev runner #redesign #alternate universe

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site666 · 11 months ago

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Like A Dog

ok first time posting a drabble lets go. honestly quite terrified to post

present hcs: trans glass, bright with inhuman features..?? kinda (hes got pointy ass teefs and red eyes)

implied bright/glass but can be read as platonic

anyways ... i love dog symbolism a lot

Jack Bright stares at his face in the mirror, half shaved and absolutely not his. As he stares into the eyes of the face he controls, he feels he’s looking into the eyes of another, because, really, he is. He can’t recognize himself. Not even as he slowly drags the razor along his cheek, his eyes unfocused as his reflection shifts and sneers at him. He’s too busy staring into dead, watery red eyes, eyes he has no business seeing. With a jolt of brief pain that brings him back, he winces as he had nicked his cheek. He turns the squeaky faucet on and quickly throws some cold water over the sliver in his cheek.

And, fuck, those eyes really aren’t his. Neither are the hands that rub water into the cut on someone else’s face.

He startles as he hears the bathroom door creak open, turning to face a mildly surprised Simon Glass. Bright gives a hesitant wave before the therapist speaks. “Shaving in the men’s room again?” Glass asks softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t have time.” Bright mutters, looking away. His eyes — someone’s eyes — drift back up to the reflection in the mirror. He sees Glass. He sees a man. He doesn’t see himself.

“You look… inquisitive.” The psychologist notes, tilting his head slightly and keeping his distance.

“You ever look at yourself and think, wow, that is NOT me, or is that just a me thing?” Bright asks bitterly. He doesn’t look at Glass.

The other man approaches now, just a few steps, and he looks in the mirror at himself next to Bright. “I see… my physical body… and I’m fairly certain that’s me.” He faces Bright with curious, pale blue eyes that are simply the exact opposite of the scientist’s bold red ones. “When I was younger I didn’t like to see my reflection, because I didn’t want to look like a little girl.”

“That’s different.”

“Not really. No matter what your brain believes shouldn’t be true about your physical body, your physical body is still you. You are the person you see in the mirror. So am I, and so was I back when I was little.”

Bright continues to watch the mirror in silence. His face crinkles in frustration. “I had green eyes. I had green eyes, and I needed glasses.” He pulls his eyelids with his index finger and thumb to get a good look at the full eye. “Bullshit.”

“You could think of it as a scar,” Glass says in his stupidly soft spoken way and Bright wants to agree, but goddamn does he want to be right himself. So, cornered and scared, he gnashes and bares his teeth in false anger, like a bad dog.

“Fuck off, Simon.” He snarls through grit teeth, crooked and yellow and sharp and just like a dog’s — and not his.

“Jack…” Glass begins slowly, carefully. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, nothing here is okay, this place is FUCKED, AND YOU KNOW IT.” Teeth are snapped uselessly against metal bars that separate his wolfish self from the fragile deer on the other side, one he so foolishly wants to kill and hold and cry into and love. His own humanity cages him and he gnaws wildly at the bars.

“I know this place isn’t right in… a lot of ways, but I also know it’s better to accept flaws sometimes.” Glass reaches out, offering his hand to Bright. The scientist swallows a lump in his throat, glaring with his lip between his teeth as he takes Glass’ hand. Glass intertwines their fingers, and he looks up and smiles. “You see that?”

“I’m not blind.”

“No — I mean, you see our hands, touching. And you feel it. Right?”

“…Sure.” Bright keeps his eyes locked on their hands, his bony knuckles and long fingers awkwardly engulfing the soft and small hand of the psychologist. He feels the gentle warmth coming from Glass’ hand against his significantly colder one — his own hands always seem to be freezing — and he feels the pressure from each of them holding on.

“That’s you.” Glass says.

“What.” It comes out more a statement than a question.

“You see yourself holding my hand, you feel yourself holding my hand. You’re you. That body is you. It’s yours.” Glass smiles up at Bright, confident he’s made a point.

And goddammit, he has.

So he backs down, his anger giving way to the fear it hid so desperately as the deer nudges the cage door open. Like a dog, he’s been shown gentleness, and god, he just wants to be helped — to be saved. So for the time being, he lets Simon save him. Just like a loyal dog.

#scp #scp foundation #drabble #writing #scp writing #fanfic #dr bright #jack bright #scp bright #doctor bright #dr glass #simon glass #scp glass #doctor glass #lightbulb scp #lightbulb #brightglass #glassbright

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wilders-girl · 2 years ago

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I Collect Spores, Mold, and Fungus.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader

PG, fluff, but also angst. I am a sad person I cannot help myself

Mild cursing, Egon feels undeserving of reader's luv, bro cries, reader cries, everyone cries, mutual pining but they're painfully unaware

3,428 words

Not proofread bc I'm silly 🤯

This was 100% an impulse write and it was created from the hours of 12-2 AM for a fortnight. Not my best work but I am in love with this silly goofy fellow. Ray is there!!! And mentions of the other guys too! Hope u enjoy ♡

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"So, what kind of hobbies do you have?" I meekly asked, watching Egon work from afar.

"I collect spores, mold, and fungus." He answered without skipping a beat.

I was startled at his quick answer, but responded soon enough that he wouldn't think I was judging him.

"That's quite interesting, actually." I spoke. "Do you have to take care of them like a houseplant, or something?"

Now it was his turn to look startled, glancing up at me for a moment before resuming his work.

"In a way, yes. I observe their progress as they grow and record differences between members of the same species and such."

He adjusted the dial on his microscope and changed the slide.

"Obviously, they're less demanding than a houseplant." He finished.

"I can understand that." I nodded.

"God, it seems like houseplants are allergic to tap water. Only the finest H2O for you, my liege!" I joked, shaking my head.

The corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile, and I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight.

A moment of silence passed before I spoke again.

"Fungi sound easier to take care of by a long shot. Do you have any favorite types?"

He paused his research and looked up at me, seemingly amazed again.

I had an apologetic expression and started to stand up from my awkward position on the couch.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, I can go back upstairs if you'd like-."

"No!" He interjected, wide-eyed.

"Sorry. I just…" He trailed off for a second, analyzing the best way to say what he wanted to.

"I didn't expect you to actually be interested in my hobby." He spoke slowly, as if each word carried more meaning than at face value.

"I didn't think anyone cared."

"Oh, Spengs," I placed my hand on my chest. "I'm sorry. If it means anything, I'm not lying. I really do think it's interesting."

I felt a wave of sadness envelop me as I realized how he'd felt all this time. Reading between the lines, I knew what he really meant.

"I didn't think anyone cared about me."

He swallowed and locked eyes with me, his eyebrows furrowed in sincerity.

"Thank you."

His voice carried heavy emotion, very off-brand for the usually stoic scientist.

Snapping out of his trance, he got up from his desk himself and walked over to me.

"Would you like to see my favorite specimens?" His voice was quiet, very hesitant. Like if he spoke too loudly, I'd disappear.

I smiled up at him, and we made eye contact again.

"I'd love to."

I felt something change between us the moment we looked into each other’s eyes. He let his shoulders relax a little, he smiled a little wider than his typical smirk, and his gaze softened behind those thick glasses. The most insignificant changes meant so much for a man like him. I could tell, though, at that moment, that he trusted me. Somehow, this cold, unsociable man allowed me into his world, a heavily guarded fortress. All because I showed him a little bit of love. And he had no idea how much I had to give him.

After putting on sterile gloves, he carefully took a petri dish from the top rack, closest to the heat lamp, and showed me a funky looking pink fuzz.

"This," He began, a smug look appearing on his face, "Is one of my top three favorite specimens. This is fusarium oxysporum, a type of filamentous fungi that occurs most commonly as a soil-borne pathogen to many plants. This one's a tough specimen; it's survived nearly every experiment I've put it through."

I analyzed it in his hands, admiring the dark magenta color.

"Why is this one of your favorites?" I asked, looking back up at him.

He looked away in embarrassment.

"I like the color." He muttered.

I laughed softly at that.

"I expected a more scientific answer, Dr." I joked.

He sighed and looked for another specimen near the middle racks, and I laughed again at his shyness.

"Ah. There it is." He sported his signature half-smile.

He brought out a piece of a tree branch, and his eyes gleamed.

"This one is terana caerulea, also known as the velvet blue spread. It's a saprobic crust fungus commonly found on the underside of fallen trees in deciduous forests."

"I really like the texture of this one!" I looked at the specimen closely. "It really is like velvet."

"Mhm. This one was the most vivid sample I could find when Ray forced us to go camping upstate a few years back. As you can see, it's been doing pretty well, too."

I snickered at the thought of the boys, especially Egon, going camping. It just didn't sound real.

"And why is this one of your favorites, Dr?" I teased.

He looked down at me and smiled.

"I like the color."

I laughed again, missing the look of adoration he sent me as I did.

"Is it your favorite color?" I asked once I regained my composure.

Looking away quickly to hide the fact he was looking so intently at me, he nodded.

"I guess it is."

I kept that in the back of my mind. Just in case I needed that information someday.

He discarded his gloves, washed his hands and walked back over to his desk, and I followed, standing a polite distance from him. I needed to tell him something.

"Hey, Spengs?" I quietly asked.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow, leaning on the desk.

I fidgeted with the ring on my little finger.

"I really like talking to you, you know. I think you're great."

I paused, looking at the floor.

"I guess it's because you treat me like an equal. I guess more like an actual human being if we're comparing you to Venkman. But, like, I never feel stupid or out of place when I'm around you. It's the opposite, actually. I feel really comfortable around you. You make me really happy, Egon."

I smiled at the ground, feeling as though I'd just run a marathon. My face was terribly overheated, I could feel it. For a second, I regretted this random burst of confidence and wanted to crawl into a hole and rot so maybe he'd collect the fungus growing on my dead body.

I looked up at him for a quick second and saw him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. Tears were threatening to spill over his eyes as he looked away from me.

I automatically assumed the worst and let my arms hang limp at my sides in my shameful retreat upstairs. I did too much.

"Aw, Spengler, I'm sorry -"

I was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping tightly around my torso in a hug before I could take a step away.

I was shocked. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on and melt into the sensation.

He shook gently in my arms as silent sobs escaped him.

I closed my eyes and whispered sweet nothings to him while rubbing circles on his back. It probably looked a little awkward from an outsider's perspective since he was bent so far over my smaller frame, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

For a moment, I tried to discard my feelings for him. I told myself he needed me as a friend at that moment, and blinked back a few tears of my own as I realized a friend was all he wanted me as, selfish as it was in that moment.

I tried to calm the fluttering in my heart as he held me even closer and let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked -"

It was my turn to cut him off now.

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're alright. I'm here for you." I spoke softly in the crook of his neck.

He pulled away, to my dismay, and immediately looked at the ground, upset at himself.

"This is completely irrational of me, I'm truly very sorry." He mumbled.

I reached a hand out towards his, silently asking permission to hold it.

He hesitantly took my shaky hand in his cold one.

"I should be the one to apologize, Egon. I brought it up out of nowhere, and it was just weird of me to say. I'm sorry for making things weird. I just wanted you to know that you're appreciated, and I really do think you're worth my attention and time.

He whispered my name.

"You make me happy too." He was still looking down, but a bit of the sadness was erased from his eyes.

"Ever since I met you, you've brought me nothing but happiness in my life. Nobody really tries to understand me like you do. And…"

He slightly tightened his grip on my hand.

"I'm sorry if I ever make it seem like I don't value you. I'm aware that I don't express my emotions as clearly as other people, but I wish I was clearer with you. You are one of my favorite people. You mean a lot to me as a friend."

I felt my heart drop a little at those words, and I looked at the floor. I mentally cursed myself for focusing on the "friend" part, when it was obvious he needed me to be a friend and be there for him right now.

"You mean a lot to me in general." He paused.

"Maybe even beyond friendship." He spoke under his breath. If there had been any other noise, I wouldn't have heard him say it.

I snapped my head up to look at him in shock.

He took off his glasses and wiped away the remnants of his tears with the sleeve of his lab coat, breaking our hand-holding and eye contact.

I couldn't muster up the courage to say anything as he put his glasses back on and looked at me confused.

"Are you alright?" He said my name.

I still couldn't speak, and all I could do was look up at him. Maybe I was hearing things. Swallowing thickly, I broke our eye contact again.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly bringing a hand up over his mouth.

I looked back up at him to see his face creased in worry.

"Did I say that out loud?"

I felt my ears go hot and looked away while nodding.

He hissed a string of profanities and turned around to rummage through the drawers in his desk.

"I'm sorry," He shakily said my name, "I wasn't thinking straight. Please forgive me. It's unlike me to speak without thinking, God I'm an idiot!" He rambled, still looking through his drawers with a prominent redness in his cheeks.

"Did you mean it?" I whispered, effectively snapping him out of his quest.

He made eye contact with me, brows knotted, and opened his mouth like he was going to speak but decided against it. He began to scour the drawers again.

"There it is." He pulled out a small journal and clutched it tightly.

He stared intently down at it, eyes flitting to me occasionally as he spoke.

"I'm not very good at… conversing 'without a script', so to speak."

He cleared his throat.

"I, uh, figured it would be better for me to not… speak… when this situation came around."

He held his lips shut and handed the book towards me with a shaky hand. His eyes were still trained on the book, even though I was looking at him.

I hesitantly accepted the journal from him and looked at him to ask permission to read it. He nodded and leaned against the desk, picking at his fingers in anxiety as I opened it to the first page.

---

10/3

We hired a new worker today. She's going to assist Janine in taking calls. I overheard some of the interview walking upstairs to get food, and it seems she's more well-versed in paranormal studies than Janine. I might have to quiz her on that later.

10-27

After getting to know her a little better, I've decided she is worthy of entering my lab. I let her come down today to investigate, and she seemed quite intrigued by the happenings down here. I wonder what she found so fascinating. I couldn't ask her, I'm not sure why.

10-30

It's become increasingly more difficult for me to speak to her about personal affairs. I'm still unsure why. She's easy to get along with, and I seem to be able to converse with her just fine, but I freeze up when she does certain things.

11-2

I've noticed a pattern with the phenomena that triggers my inability to interact with her. I've found that it happens most when she smiles or laughs, gets close to me, makes physical contact with me, etc. The PKE didn't pick up any suspicious readings from her, so maybe there's something wrong with me. I'll run an experiment tomorrow.

11-3

The research shows I'm completely fine, but she still renders me speechless. After work today, she changed into a very flattering dress, saying that she was going out with her friend for drinks. It was, at face value, a regular dress. Though, somehow, it looked stunning on her. I didn't realize I was smiling until she pointed it out. I fear that I might have a different problem than I imagined.

11-15

My problem is most definitely not paranormal. It's biological. She was in the lab again today, helping me with my temperature-related differentiation study with the penicillium species. She comes down here on slow days when Janine tells her she can handle the work. When I moved to take the petri dish out of her hand, I accidentally brushed my fingers with hers and almost dropped the specimen. She was warm, but that wasn't what was alarming to me. I simply enjoyed the feeling. I enjoyed her presence, and I enjoyed her as a person in my life. I liked seeing her happy, and couldn't bear seeing her sad. I realized a simple truth at that moment: she made me happy and I wanted to make her happy too. Irrational it may seem, but she means the world to me.

11-22

I have come to a conclusion. How can I tell her without making a fool of myself? I fear it cannot be done. I can't say my feelings aloud to her. But I need to let her know how much she means to me.

11-23

I'm giving her this journal.

11-27

Since you've come this far in reading this, I want to tell you the facts, since it's easiest for me to think in a logical way. After running some studies on myself, i've come to some conclusions. When I make physical contact with you, my heartbeat quickens an average of 15%. After a prolonged interaction with you, I've recorded that the dopamine levels in my brain rise around 3 pg/ml. I find that when you're gone, I think about you around 2 times per minute; sometimes more, sometimes less. It's so comfortable for me to live in the analytical, logical world, but oftentimes you make me want to forget the science. You've made me feel things I just cannot explain. You have made me smile more than I have in years. I just feel happier with you, I don't know how to explain it. I have this irrational yearning for you. I want to see you happy, and I want to be the cause for your happiness. I want to be near you and see you at all times so I never forget how beautiful you are. I want to touch you, to be close to you so you can fill me with the warmth you bring in my heart. That, I can't explain. Therefore, logical or not, the signs point to one clear idea. I am in love with you. I felt you needed to know. I couldn't keep making excuses for my strange behavior. Thank you for reading this.

---

I closed the journal and felt a tear drip off my face. Wiping my eyes, I didn't realize I'd been crying until I felt the cold wetness against my fingertips. I sat there for a minute, collecting my thoughts and composure, and set the book down on Egon's desk.

Without a second thought, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. This time, not bothering to be reserved with my emotions. I held him to me as tight as I could and felt euphoric by his reciprocal. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the feeling like I was on cloud nine.

Breathing in his scent one last time, I pulled away slightly and looked up at him. I probably looked like shit, but I didn’t care.

"I love you, too." I smiled.

He breathed out a sigh of relief and we went right back to our embrace.

I giggled, thinking about how nervous he was to not mess anything up. He was always so considerate of me. I didn't know why I never realized it. Then again, I guess he didn't realize it either.

He muttered my name, and I pulled away again to look at him, though I'd have stayed entwined with him forever if I could.

"Thank you." He smiled softly at me.

I reached for his hands and held them level with my shoulders as I leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He blinked a couple times and looked away shyly, a rose tinge washing over his cheeks and ears. I could only giggle at how adorable he looked at that moment. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

He pulled away, still smiling, and shut off his machinery for the evening. I reached for the journal again and smiled, thinking of the unspoken words in there. I learned that he was not a man of few words, rather, he just didn't voice his thoughts aloud. What he did say aloud was always the most meaningful or efficient of his thoughts.

"It's late." He spoke softly, turning around to face me. "You should get some rest."

I rolled my eyes.

"And you shouldn't?"

"I can function on an hour of sleep, thank you very much." He teased.

"Tell you what, Dr. I'll sleep if you sleep." I raised my eyebrows in mock defiance.

"There's no way to hold each other accountable for that, you know. You could be lying and stay up another few hours."

I clicked my tongue and pointed at him.

"That's exactly what someone who isn't about to sleep would say."

He shook his head with a half-smile.

"What, do you plan to hold me accountable somehow? Make me pay if I don't follow your bidding?"

I cocked my head, pretending to think about it.

"Doesn't sound half bad, actually. Renowned scientist Egon Spengler groveling at the feet of a woman who wants him to sleep."

He laughed, the sound I love so much. Then, an idea popped into my head. I slowly let my grin grow like a Cheshire cat.

"What if I did hold you accountable?"

He narrowed his eyes on me in confusion.

"If you crash at my place, I'd know you aren't cheating."

His eyes widened, and he suddenly took off his glasses to inspect them so as to break our eye contact.

But he didn't refuse.

I slowly stepped closer to him and took the glasses out of his hands to make him look at me again.

"What do you say, Spengs?" I innocently batted my eyelashes at him.

He looked away and swallowed, clearly flustered.

"You can say no." I spoke in a more serious tone, handing him back his glasses.

He put them back on and looked down at me with a surprising amount of confidence in his eyes, demeanor, and voice.

"Deal." He muttered.

—

We left the station shortly after, quietly conversing on our way out. Ray was still working on the Ecto-1 and squinted up at us from the car. His eyes widened when they landed on our entwined hands, and the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth in a shocked expression.

Egon turned around briefly and gave him a look I couldn't figure out. Ray nodded in acceptance and went back to work, whispering a "good night, you two," probably not to wake Peter "Sleeping Beauty" Venkman upstairs. With a wave and a smile, we exited the premises.

He fell asleep first.

—

A/n: oh my days writing this HEALED me. I've been in a tough situation with someone irl for a couple months and it just killed any semblance of happiness I believed still lived in me. Like seriously I try to play it off bc I'm cool but it made me really sad. AND COMBINED W SCHOOL I JUST. seething. But I'm back!!! And fictional men are helping me regain my hope for humanity (and maybe men). Sorry for the long break, but I am back on my bullshit now 😈

#egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters egon #egon x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #oneshot

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soulsbleedink · 5 months ago

Text

𝙀𝙎𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙊 | 𝙎𝙆𝘼𝙍𝙍𝘼

Prompt: [Slightly based off the song 'espresso' by Sabrina Carpenter!] Skarra's been looking for the IU scientist the whole day; concluding that she has disappeared into her haven; aka her lab. He brings her food, and spends time with her.

Warning[s]: None, it's fluffy!

Pairing: Skarra x OC [OC belongs to @edenvillee (Eden)]

Words: 2.2k

masterlist

i keep on brainrotting about dee's ocs, you can't really blame me. i had to write edarra, they're precious. <3

“Eden?” Eden could recognise that voice anywhere. She turned around to meet the familiar dumb haircut that Skarra had always had, stupid buzz. With her coffee in one hand and a calculator in another, she balanced a pointed glare at him. She didn’t want to come off as rude, but interruptions when she’d lock in weren’t too welcome.

“What is it, Skarra?” She gave him one of her signature sarcastic smiles. He leaned down, as if he was observing her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Spit up, I’m a bit busy, if you can’t tell?”

“Why are you so cranky? I just wanted to check in,” He started, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Dingaan said you’ve been cooped up in the lab the entire day, you’re already wearing glasses, didn’t need you to be blind next.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, but are you sure you don’t want something? You being nice equals ulterior motives most of the time.” She fixed her glasses, placing the coffee away, away from her reports and research papers. Nothing was safe around Skarra.

“I didn’t realise you thought so low of me.” He feigned a pout at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Think you earned that reputation by yourself, himaar.”

“I swear I knew what it meant yesterday—” Apparently it didn’t take more than a few seconds to get distracted, with something that was completely irrelevant too. “Just one more time—”

Eden turned away, running a hand through her hair as she glanced back at her papers spread all over her work-desk. A soft sigh slipped past her lips, and she could hear rustling behind her, evidently Skarra taking his umpteenth stroll around the lab that didn’t even interest him. She could swear he was only here to piss her off.

“How many cups of raw espresso are you on…?” Skarra asked from somewhere in the background, the soft scraping of discarded cups following his words. Eden turned to him again, eyeing him as he cleaned up the mess that Eden said she would eventually, once she was done with the never-ending research she had to conduct.

“Quite a few, I’ve lost count honestly,” She answered, rather honestly this time, “also, you don’t need to clean that up, I’ll do it myself soon enough.”

Skarra glared at her, and she glared back. “Eden, I swear, you have to take care of yourself!” He threw the cups away into bins, now making his way back to the scientist. “Take a break, now.”

“Shush, I still have half a dozen reports to read over, the other scientists aren’t particularly reliable, you know?” She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, one that was prevalent on her face for most parts of the day anyway. Skarra laughed, and she huffed.

“Well, you can catch a break, can’t you?” He asked, a grin playing on his lips.

“Apparently not, actually.” She tried to turn back to the tumultuous pile of papers, but her chair stopped mid-spin, and she craned her neck up, meeting Skarra’s amused expression, lips forming a frown. He flicked her forehead and she reached forward but he reacted quickly, moving back.

Footballers and their reflexes. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

“That wasn’t a question.” He retreated into whatever corner of hell he originated from, and she stared into the dark until he appeared, and he had some sort of box in his hands, a lunch box…? What?

Choosing to ignore the box in his hands, she recounted his words, “yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He was trying to gaslight her again.

“This just feels like that one time you went buff mode and then embarrassed yourself.” She smirked at him, knowing he would hate the mention.

Stretching her limbs, she watched as he pouted at her like a kid, the box still in his hands, but he was standing still and looking at her like a mad toddler about to throw their tantrum. Only then did she realise that it seemed to be growing even darker outside, the digital clock on the wall displayed a neon green 21:10. Time in fact did not wait for her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, feeling relatively happier. Apparently, the idiot knew how to make her feel better, with his stupid way of speaking, and acting around her. What a clown, honestly.

“Whatever, I thought I could be nice to you today, but you just want me to—” He stopped mid-sentence, as if he lost his train of thoughts (not that she believed he had any in the first place), and she wondered what stopped him.

“To what?”

“Nothing.” He walked over to her and placed the box on her desk, pushing away the papers and the mess that she had to look into. “I got you food.”

“What?” She didn’t quite catch him. “What do you mean?”

“I got you dinner.” And he refused to elaborate. Great.

“Skarra, I swear to god—” She tried to pry his hands away from her desk but he just wouldn’t budge. And then she just sighed, letting go. He continued unboxing what she assumed was food. “Thank you…” She resigned herself to her fate, if he wasn’t going to just let her off the hook, then perhaps she could just accept the fact that he would make her eat.

“Dingaan and Akira told me you barely responded to their messages too,” He mentioned off-handedly.

She looked up at him. “And?”

“Don’t just ‘and’ me!” He huffed, and it reminded her of herself. She fought back a laugh, letting the guy place the food in front of her.

And suddenly she was surprised by how good it actually looked, it didn’t look too bad. Did he even cook this himself? In front of her, there were sandwiches, nice and simple, with the crust trimmed off, and they smelt wonderful, just for the fact.

“I made them…” He whispered, and she looked up, feeling a smile tug at her lips. Okay, maybe she did appreciate him a lot sometimes. She reached for his shoulder, squeezing it and mouthing the words ‘thank you’.

“I appreciate it.” She looked back at the food, picking one of the sandwiches up and tentatively taking a bite. The taste was ethereal, or maybe it was the fact that for the last few hours she’d been sustaining herself on coffee only, but really, it did taste good. “It tastes amazing, are you sure you made it?” She asked jokingly, grinning.

Noticing her grin, he grinned too, and nodded like a little puppy. Her heart winced maybe a tad bit, and she continued eating away. Skarra found a chair and rolled it over to her, so he was now next to her. He picked up his own sandwich and she could swear he bit off more than half of it in one single bite. Her eyes widened slightly at him, had he not had at all during the day?

“Have you not had any food today…?” She asked between bites, as she waited for him to meet her gaze.

Slowly he met her eyes, and she smiled at him softly, urging him to answer. “No.”

“Why, Skarra?” She asked gently, fighting the urge to reach for his hands. This idiot honestly, she should’ve been mad at him, but she couldn’t even bring herself to fully be angry. She was exhausted, and at the moment really felt appreciative of him. She mentally face-palmed herself because of her own thoughts.

He raised a questioning brow and she just shook her head. He just shrugged, and she watched him closely, noticing his relaxed shoulders, and the way he tapped at the arm of the chair twice every three seconds.

“Skarra? Are you fine?” She mentally cringed a bit at her tone, but smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He sighed, picking at scabs on his arms, and she pried his hands away from his arms, shaking his head.

“Go on,” She whispered.

“I don’t really know, you’ve been so busy recently, and I kinda miss your banter, and your stupid insults.”

She felt her heart warm up. She didn’t know he could be this cute sometimes, gosh, did she hate him for it. For playing with her feelings like this, and making unwelcomed butterflies flutter in her stomach like that.

“Well, you know what? I miss you too, idiot.” She laughed, for the first time fully in all these hours that she’d been in this lab, researching away, ignoring Vince’s calls, and Dingaan’s messages. Maybe she felt bad, but she had priorities, and she wouldn’t let go of that for anyone, really. Or maybe just a select few people.

“I never thought I’d be hearing you say that,” He said, feigning a heart attack, and striking the classic ‘damsel-in-distress’ pose, prompting Eden to laugh, run a hand through her brown curls.

What she didn’t notice was that he looked at her for that moment like she could be the best thing he’d ever seen, and he would never—never look at someone like that, or he hoped he wouldn’t, at least. But seeing her let her guard down, and laugh, and be absolutely stupid with him really filled his heart with some type of warmth he only knew a few years ago.

Eden finally got out of her small laughing fit, and Skarra started picking up the crumbs from the bread on her desk, and she tried to convince him that he needn’t do that, but he was stubborn, and of course he wouldn’t listen. Of course not.

She sighed, picking a report from her stack and skimming through it while Skarra cleaned up lightly.

New training sequences… Post-injury recovery statistics…. Dingaan… Dingaan? That wasn’t even written in a font, it looked plainly scribbled with pen, and the handwriting looked familiar. She spun around in her chair.

“Skarra? Care to explain?” She looked at him through the lenses of her glasses, trying her best to glare at him.

He straightened up, slowly meeting his gaze and then glancing down at the paper, then back at her with an apologetic smile… “Sorry.”

“At least you’re apologising.” She sighed, turning back and just finishing up the last few rounds of proof-reading.

She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she locked in again, but when Skarra placed his hands on her shoulders, she could swear she saw heaven for a moment, the pure fear sending her heart jumping into her head. She shook, leaning her head up to glare at him and frown.

“Need help?” He asked, what had gotten into him, today?

“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, though.”

He sighed at her words, and just resigned himself to sitting beside her, criss-crossed.

It wasn’t too long before she considered herself far too drained without her unlimited resources of caffeine. She put away anything and everything related to her work and slouched, resting her head on the desk in front of her.

“No espresso, no energy?” Skarra taunted, and she laughed, nodding.

“Shut up, Skarra.”

“I lo—hate you too.” He got up and ruffled her hair, packing up her stuff for her.

She didn’t even have the energy to tell him not to, because god knew when he’d use this against her and try to gaslight her into doing something for him.

“Dingaan will be hearing about this.” She sighed.

“I’ll let Vince know about the espresso.”

“Don’t you dare.” She tried to fake a threatening tone with him, but her exhaustion was getting the better of her too.

“Come on, there's no way you're falling asleep here.” He tugged on her arm, and she tried to swat him away.

“There's many ways, actually.” She deadpanned up at him.

“There's a reason I call you the nerd emoji.”

“Excuse you. You have like no respect for me.” She hoisted herself from the clamlike position she was in, resigning herself to whatever was going through Skarra's small skull.

Skarra turned to her, and grinned, before hoisting her bag onto his shoulder and lunging for the door that led to his freedom.

Now that caught her off-guard.

“Get back here, you rascal!” She called out as she forced her feet to pick up pace and run after him. Surely he would've realised her legs wouldn't be able to reach the speeds he could? Or probably not, this was Skarra she was thinking about.

“Get me, Eden!” He turned back briefly, almost running right into a pole.

She fought back a laugh as she finally cornered him at his car. “Give me my stuff back, or risk losing your head.”

“No.”

“Skarra.”

He grinned at her like an idiot, and she was growing perplexed and maybe agitated. She tried to reach for her stuff but he held it above her head.

“Come on, Eden, Dingaan's waiting.”

“Don't use him as bait.”

Maybe she was hallucinating but Skarra started pouting again. Maybe all of that caffeine was getting to her and she was really ascending to heaven or—He reached out for her face and she stepped back. Yeah, she definitely was still alive and well.

“Whatever, get in that car and don't kill me because you're horrendous at driving.”

“Duly noted.” Maybe it wasn't too bad with him. Just her typical day-to-day IU scientist experience with her dumb footballer.

#supa strikas #skarra #writing #skarra x oc #edarra my beloved #i love them so much #what else do i tag this?

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multifandominfj · 1 year ago

Text

A New Beginning: A Supergirl 6x20 Re-Write

Chapter Four: The Morning After

Like usual, Kara was the first one up. Since becoming Editor and Chief for Cat, she was constantly editing, re-formatting and tweaking articles so they could fit in the upcoming issue. Not wanting to wake Lena, she forewent making her cup of coffee, and got right to work.

Lucky for her, she had a genius, scientist girlfriend who was ridiculously good at picking up on what she needed.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Lena walks in with her bedhead that magically looked great, and her flannel PJs. “Your usual?”

“Please.” Kara grinned, quickly glancing up with a smile. “Wanted to squeeze in some light work before Esme, Alex and Kelly come over.”

“It still feels surreal that they chose me to be her Godmother.” She finished pouring the coffee, and began to work on their breakfast.

“I think you’re the perfect choice. And thinking back on how far your friendship with Alex has come…there’s no one better to protect her than you.” Kara grinned.

“You’re literally bulletproof.” Lena chuckled.

“Not the point…” Kara couldn’t help but laugh. “Alex went from not trusting you because of your last name, to putting all of her cards on the table; asking you to be the guardian of her daughter should something happen to her and Kelly.”

“It was a bit of a shock to hear that from the both of them.” Two plates in hand, she heads to the table. “But it was a good shock. And since getting to know Alex, that was one thing I always wanted, was her trust; to let her know she could count on me.”

“And you’ve proved yourself time and time again, Lena. Now, you have the family you've always wanted.” Kara assures as she takes a bite. “Mhmmm, my compliments to the chef,”

“Now you’re just fluffing my ego.” Lena retorted with her signature eyebrow raise.

“Ding Dong!” Alex pokes her head through the door. “Hope we’re not interrupting?”

“Not at all, come in.” Kara closes her laptop. “There she is!”

“Aunt Kara!” Esme runs directly to her, and climbs up on her lap. “I saw your interview with that Cat lady. We all, did.”

“Yeah? And what did you think?” She asked with an heir of curiosity.

“I thought it was so cool, and very brave. I think you’re going to help even more people now.” Esme proudly declares.

“Now I can officially start my day.” Kara gives Esme a warm chuckle accompanied with a hug. “You want to help me with my article? I sure could use some insight from the smartest person on Earth.” She smirked with a wink.

“Took you long enough to ask.” Esme smiled; for her age, her sarcasm was on par with Alex and Lena’s.

“Follow me.” Laptop in one hand, Esme’s hand in her other, she heads over to the couch and they get started.

“Those two are really attached at the hip, aren’t they?” Lena chuckled, chatting with Alex and Kelly in the kitchen.

“You should’ve seen Esme the night the interview aired. The second Kara appeared, she leaped off the couch to sit right in front of the tv.” Kelly grinned.

“She even shushed us.” Alex adds. “But in all honesty, I was so happy watching Kara finally finding herself. She’s been struggling with finding balance, and that night, she found it. And I’m even happier that Esme has someone to look up to, like Kara, to show her she doesn’t have to be separate things at different times. She can be whoever she wants.”

“Speaking of that interview, when I was watching it…Andrea was with me.” Lena revealed hesitantly.

“Talk about a plot twist.” Alex sets her mug of coffee down, ready to receive the story.

“How’d she take it?” Kelly tacks on.

“Surprisingly well. She also agreed glasses were a bad disguise. But she also looked back on all of the times she has mistreated Kara, and I think she may actually be turning over a new leaf.” Lena gives a shrug that could be read as both doubtful and hopeful.

“That’s good at least. I know Kara tried really hard to get Andrea on her side. Hopefully their reconciliation goes okay.” Alex agreed.

“Hey, Sorry to interrupt. Cat just called. I have to go in to give her what I have. Please, hang out as long as you three are able to stay.” With a swoosh of her coat, she also grabbed her bag. “And I will see you later for date night.” Kara had no problem with giving Lena a big smooch in front of Alex, Kelly and Esme.

Lena, rendered speechless, simply blushes.

“Bye guys!” Kara waves shutting the door

“I knew there was something.” Alex smirked. “I could tell there was some sort of magnetic pull the day we got Kara back.

“When did you two become…” Kelly began to ask.

“Official? At the wedding. But an interruption kinda ruined the moment. So, last night I started to tell her how I felt, and Kara being Kara…she knew. And she felt the same way.”

“Does that mean you and Aunt Kara are girlfriends now?” Esme asked. “Because it’s about time. The way she talks about you, it’s like a real life Disney movie.”

“And as you can see, Esme is your biggest supporter.” Kelly let’s out a belly laugh.

Lena’s blush didn’t go away. Not only was is that “in love glow”, there was something else she wasn’t saying.

“Lena, I know that look. What are you hiding?” Alex analyzed her body language.

Ta-Da! Chapter 4 has arrived! Tell me what you think.

#supercorp endgame #supergirl cw #supercorp #supergirl #katie mcgrath #lena luthor #melissa benoist #kara danvers #kara x lena #fanfiction #fanfic #future writers in the writers room #author in the making #queer writers #my otp #they own my heart #power couple

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banannabethchase · 1 year ago

Note

for the hangman in a lab coat doing serious scientific sex experiments with matt as his test subject verse: adam wants to see what matt would look like double stuffed, i.e., they try double penetration with someone else

Greedy - also on AO3

Matt's finally ready to suggest his second Mox-related experiment, and Adam is so ready to take a back seat to his mad scientist boyfriend.

Thank you for this genius prompt, V!!! Title from Greedy by Ariana Grande.

Matt skips into the hotel room, throwing open the door without fanfare, like it hadn’t been a week since they’d seen each other, like he hadn’t been in California packing stuff up in his house to ship cross country to Adam’s. To their home. “I have an idea. An experiment idea.”

“You do?” Adam asks. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks up at Matt.

Who immediately goes pink.

“What?”

“I – forgot what I going to say.” Matt shuffles over to the bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Adam says back. He smiles as Matt curls into him, treating him, essentially, as a mattress. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Matt sighs. “You pushed your glasses up your nose and it was cute.” He lifts his head and smiles at Adam, all sweet. “And then I remembered I get to, like, kiss you and keep you and whatever, and…” He trails off and flops back onto Adam’s chest.

“Lord,” Adam says. “You’re all gooey today.” He sets his book down and wraps his arms around Matt’s back. “Must have been the week apart.” He kisses the top of Matt’s head, reminding himself that he’ll get to have these moments every morning from now on. “Tell me what your idea is. I wanna hear.”

Matt hums. “Snuggles first.”

Snuggles turns into resting their eyes, and resting their eyes turns into sleep. Adam never sleeps as well as when Matt is playing weighted blanket on top of him, but it’s in the back of his mind as he drifts off to sleep that he never got an answer about Matt’s idea.

They’re in the middle of the venue, helping Tony with some organization, when Matt huffs.

“I have that stupid cowlick going,” he grumbles. “I seriously need you to get that hairbrush situation fixed.”

“Or, what if,” Adam says, moving a speaker where he’s been directed, “you could get your own damned hair brush.” He puts the speaker down and pulls out the cord, running it to the wall.

Matt sits on top of the speaker. “But then I don’t get to share yours.”

“More like you don’t get to have that tiny bit of extra space in your luggage.” Adam leans down and kisses Matt’s forehead. “Get up, come on. We have to get out of here before anybody comes over here and makes us do something else.”

The footsteps feel annoyingly appropriate, but Matt lights up as he jumps to his feet.

“You look so fucked up,” Mox says, looking Matt up and down. Adam stands. “Why do you look like you slept with a rock for a pillow?”

“Considering Adam’s pecs, that’s actually pretty accurate,” Matt retorts.

Adam snickers. “Thanks, babe.”

Mox chews his lollipop and looks Adam up and down. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, by the way.” He winks at Adam. “You looked great at that death match.” He runs his thumb along his lower lip, eyes locked on Adam’s mouth. “Sort of jealous you didn’t drink my blood in ours, but whatever.”

Matt clears his throat. “Well, we’re needed in the EVP room. Thing. With Tony.” He grabs Adam’s hand and drags him away at a speed that feels almost comical.

“What’s wrong with you?” Adam laughs. “We weren’t done with the speakers.”

“My idea,” Matt says. “What the eff. It’s like he can read my mind.”

“Read your – oh.” Adam gets it. “Oh, this is about that idea you keep talking about whenever I’m blowing you?” He slides his fingertips along Matt’s hip, sliding under his shirt. But, for the first time Adam can remember, it doesn’t distract Matt even a bit.

Matt nods. “I wanna ask him,” he says. “I, um. I really – I think it’s the right time, you know.” He bounces on his toes. “Do you think he’ll want to?”

“I think,” Adam says, stepping into Matt’s space until Matt’s pressed up against the wall, “you should say exactly what you want him to do.” He leans in, lips to Matt’s ear. “What you want both of us to do.”

Matt exhales slowly, deeply, intensely. “I want you – both – to…” He swallows, and Adam gears up to hear him say it. “I want you both to fuck me at the same time.”

Adam chuckles in Matt’s ear, licking his lips. “So it’s more than just a fantasy now,” he says. “You really want it?”

“I do,” Matt says. “Um. If you want it.”

Adam pulls back. “Say that again?”

“If you don’t want to, I get it,” Matt says. “I mean, having him, um, rail me when you came in afterwards was kind of different. I know that.” He presses his lips together, still managing to look cute when talking about being fucked by two men at once. “So I need to you to know that I’m okay if it it’s just a fantasy.” He grabs Adam’s hands, and looks so goddamned sincere with those gigantic eyes that Adam almost wants to drop to a knee now.

He does have the ring in his bag this time.

“So, just, I’m okay if it’s all talk,” Matt says, nodding. “I’m okay with it.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Do you think that I only want it to be talk?”

Matt shrugs. “I mentioned it to Kenny.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “You brought up our threesome to Kenny?”

“You know how he is,” Matt says, waving it off like that statement makes any sense at all. “He had a similar thing going a while back and told me to make sure you were entirely on board with it before bringing it to Mox’s attention.” He wrinkles his nose. “Apparently Kenny asked Nick before double checking with Kota and it all went really bad.”

“I mean, you brought it up to me months ago,” Adam says, and he finds himself playing with Matt’s hair, running silky locks through his fingertips. Mox was right, though. There’s a bunch of knots he slowly starts working through. “And did I seem like I didn’t want to back then?”

“We had just finished having sex,” Matt says, like an explanation. “Sometimes we say things in a post orgasm haze that we don’t mean.”

“Like that one time you said you could see the appeal of the Undertaker, you mean.”

Matt frowns. “You promised me you would never bring that up.”

“No,” Adam says, “no, you told me to promise never to bring it up, and I told you I would save it for a time when it was appropriate for the situation, and here we are.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “You suck.”

“Says you,” Adam says, kissing his forehead. “Now, tell me again. Tell me exactly what you want so I can tell you I am so fucking into it I may have hidden extra lube in my checked bags every goddamned time we fly just in case you decide it’s time.”

Matt exhales slowly. “Really?”

Adam nods. “Really.”

Matt stands on his toes and kisses Adam with a fervor, hands wound around his neck and fingers in his hair. “I want it,” he gasps, against Adam’s lips. “But – but I wanna make sure you – that we all know I belong to you, in the end.”

Adam whines. “Fuck. Goddamnit, baby, you can’t say shit like that when we have a show to help run.” He leans in and kisses Matt as possessively as he can, trying to make sure Matt knows. He’s always Adam’s.

“Okay,” Matt says, looking dazed and floating when Adam pulls away. “We have to talk to Mox first, though.”

The opportunity comes later that night at the hotel, when Adam and Matt are stopping by the hotel restaurant for a late night snack.

“I just really want French fries,” Adam says, dragging Matt. “Come on.”

When they walk in, Mox has a plate of fries in front of him.

“Huh,” Adam says. “Look at that, baby.”

“You said you wanted French fries.”

Adam decides that he’s earned a bad idea, so he walks up to Mox and grabs a fry from the plate, popping it in his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Mox asks turning to him. Adam grins as he chews, Matt sliding around to Mox’s other side.

“Hey,” Adam says. “Matt has a question for you.”

Mox grins. “Oh. Anything like last time?”

“Similar,” Matt says, and Adam can’t help but notice the way he trails his fingertips along the back of Mox’s neck as he walks to his other side. “But it requires the two of you to be, like, cool with being near each other. More than last time.”

Mox leans back, which gives Adam the opportunity to take a few more fries. “Talk to me,” he says. “And stop fuckin’ eating my French fries, you dick.” He slaps Adam’s hand when he reaches out to grab another. “You two fucking suck, by the way.”

“We weren’t thinking sucking would be involved,” Matt says, hopping into the barstool. “Well, this time.”

“This time?” Mox asks, turning to Adam. “This becoming a thing?”

Adam shrugs. “Don’t ask me. This one’s all his idea.”

“I thought you were the experimenter or something.”

Adam frowns, and reaches out to take another fry. Mox doesn’t stop him. “My lab’s been taken over by a madman.”

“You have never once complained about my ideas,” Matt says. “Anyway, if you two will stop bitching, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Mox has to straight up slap his hand over Matt’s mouth at one point when the bartender is coming over to refill their waters.

“Baby, I love you,” Adam says, fighting back laughter, “but if you say ‘just get your dick in there and we’ll make it work’ in public like that, somebody eventually is going to leak that to a dirt sheet and people are going to start expecting very different pay per views.”

Matt’s eyes light up a little more than strictly necessary.

“Hard no,” Adam says firmly. He glances around, then leans in, over Mox. “I ain’t sharing you with anybody except for him. You’re mine.”

Matt’s eyes widen and he settles back into his seat. “So I shouldn’t bring up that thing I wanted to ask related to Claudio?”

Mox laughs so hard he slides off the barstool.

Wrestling’s a sport. Adam knows that. They train and focus, and Matt goes hard on exercises specifically researched to make him better at certain wrestling moves. But Adam has never seen anybody train the way Matt has the past few weeks for this particular event. They’d been messing around with Matt taking more and more for months, but since their conversation with Mox a few weeks before, things have gotten almost clinical.

They’re in bed, Adam on his back as Matt sinks down on him.

“I’m just saying,” Matt says, far too put together to be filled up by Adam, “I don’t think it’s possible for Mox to be bigger than this one.” His turned around the opposite direction from Adam. “Okay, go ahead.”

Adam grins. “You sure?” he asks. He touches around Matt’s hole gentle, giving soft, listless thrusts with his dick and a finger. “I can just keep this up as long as you want.”

Matt falls a little forward on his hands. “I – okay, always, but I’m really – I want to make sure I can handle this one, too.”

It takes a few minutes, some deep breathing from Matt, and Adam keeping his hips as still as possible, but Matt manages to take both Adam and the largest dildo they have in their collection.

“Fuck,” Adam says, staring. “I wish I could see your face, babe. But this view is out of this world.”

He keeps himself absolutely still as he slowly works the dildo in and out.

Matt exhales. “This – I feel –”

Adam freezes. “Are you okay?”

“This is incredible,” Matt says. “I don’t get – this…Adam, I may be obsessed with this.”

“Fucking awesome,” Adam murmurs. “Because I kind of am, too.”

He reaches around without moving his hips but can only get his fingertips along Matt’s cock.

“Oh,” Matt says, voice a whisper. “Oh, okay. Take the other – take the fake one out. I want you to really give it to me, okay?”

Truly, Adam has never said no to Matt.

Matt sprints into Adam’s bedroom, skidding to a stop right before crashing into his bed.

“Hey,” Adam says, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at my phone,” Matt says, throwing himself on the bed and shoving the phone into Adam’s face.

“Even cross eyed, I couldn’t read that,” Adam mutters. He bats at Matt’s hand until he pulls his hand back and Adam can grab the phone.

got a suite Tuesday nite til fridya morning if you two are in this week

“He spelled Friday wrong,” Adam says, frowning down at the phone. He looks back up at Matt. “Is that why you’re freaking out?”

“Don’t – focus, Adam!” Matt says. When Adam looks up, he can finally see how excited Matt is. “Mox got a suite! So we can do the whole two guys at once thing!” He does what Adam may have to consider the most charming happy dance he’s seen from Matt, something similar to when he’s being a particularly huge bitch in a match.

“Oh, shit,” Adam says. “Yeah. Hell yeah. Let’s do it.”

They go down on each other in Adam’s – in their, he’s still not used to it, it feels like a dream – laundry room, giggling, as they pack for the flight to Dynamite, and Adam is beginning to get worried he’s just as excited as Matt.

Matt is enthusiastic about everything the next few days. He gleefully takes his sneakers off for TSA, accepts the lack of diet Coke on the plane graciously, and doesn’t say a word when the Lyft is twenty minutes late and has a car that smells like four gallons of cologne. Even Adam’s barely kind enough not to bitch about it. Matt practically bounces his way to the hotel room and to the venue.

“You really are excited for tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

Matt nods fervently. “Also, I’ve had, like six coffees.”

“Six – when?!” Adam asks. He drops his things in the EVP room. “It’s two in the afternoon. When did you even have the time?!”

“When you went to talk to Silver and Reynolds,” Matt replies. He sits on the couch crosslegged, but still tapping his fingers rapidly. “Concessions had a bunch of coffee ready so I kept refilling.”

“There is something so deeply wrong with you, baby,” he laughs, kissing Matt’s forehead. “Chill out a little bit before we go do professional shit, okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble for being weird in public.”

“You like it when I’m weird in public,” Matt says, and his grin goes dangerous. “You really liked it when I was weird when you were doing camera for that one Mox match.”

Adam exhales slowly. “Yeah, but nobody knew you were there.”

“You did,” Matt says, grinning.

“You shouldn’t be so proud of that,” Adam says, kissing Matt’s forehead. “We risked getting fired.”

Matt shrugs. “Yeah, but we didn’t.”

Adam does a terrible job of paying attention to anything during Dynamite. He and the Bucks are backstage only, which means Matt is half in his lap as he studies the cameras and makes calls while Adam presses buttons at his command.

“I really hate how I have to do this now,” he mutters during a commercial. “What happened to me hanging out backstage?”

“We got back together and you got stuck with me,” Matt says. He’s half in Adam’s lap at this point.

“Yeah, and you two made it everybody’s problem,” Nick says, grinning as he mutes his mic. “Now shut up so I can cue music, you idiots.” He’s been in a much better mood for a while. Adam kind of wants to know why, but also thinks he shouldn’t dare to ask.

Adam follows instructions as best he can, but he really needs to talk to Tony about not doing this next time. Dynamite and Rampage finish smoothly, in Adam’s opinion, but Matt’s got some complaints as he drives back to the hotel, with Nick and Kenny in the back seats.

“I just think,” Matt continues, “that if we’re expected to communicate with all members of the roster, everybody should be given a company phone that actually works well, you know?”

“That’s great, Matt, but I asked if you wanted to get a Frosty,” Nick says.

Matt dives at him when they close the door to their hotel room, and it’s only reflexes that save Matt from falling to the floor. Adam grabs him at the ass and holds him up on instinct.

“You know well and good I can’t fuck you tonight if we’re going to see Mox tomorrow,” Adam says, dropping Matt on the bed.

He gets giant, miserable booboo eyes in response. “No, but you can suck my dick.” He flutters his eyelashes. “C’mon, I’ve been in such a good mood today.”

“Have you?” Adam asks. He kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the bed with a grin. “Didn’t you bitch at everyone you saw about the shitty company phones?”

“That wasn’t bitching! It was a companywide improvement recommendation!” Matt says as Adam’s hands go for his belt. Adam can feel he’s already hard.

“How are you always – you were rambling about chocolate vs peppermint Frostys, like, five minutes ago.”

“And?” Matt asks as Adam pulls down his pants. “Now I’m here.” He gestures to Adam. “Come on. How else am I ever gonna react when you’re in front of me?”

“Goddamnit,” Adam says with a sigh, eye level with Matt’s dick. “You’re being sweet. Now I have to suck your dick.”

“You nervous?” Adam asks, grinning down at Matt. They’ve got all their bags with them, since Mox as offered them to stay the night at the suite after it’s all said and done, and Adam’s just waiting for Matt to knock.

Matt swallows. “No.”

“Then knock.”

“You knock.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “It’s your idea.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Matt says. “Aren’t you supposed to do what I want or something?”

Adam snorts. “Yeah, okay. Then we’ll be out here for hours, baby. It’s your fantasy.” He leans in and kisses across Matt’s cheekbone until his lips reach Matt’s ear. “And your experiment. Go ahead. Knock.”

Matt’s shaky and shivery when he knocks, but there’s not an ounce of hesitation as he does so.

Mox throws the door open a few moments later. “Hey, douchebags,” he says, grinning. “How are ya?”

“Good,” Matt says primly. “Can we come in?”

“Sure, baby,” Mox says, popping the lollipop back between his lips. Adam’s a bit entranced. Mox steps back and Adam follows Matt into the spacious suite. It really is large – an entire living area with a small kitchenette, giant TV. He can see the door to the bedroom open, revealing a giant bed.

“Get comfy,” Mox says, throwing himself on the couch. Adam watches how the pale washed denim stretches across strong thighs, how the Death Jitsu long sleeve tee stretches across his broad chest.

Adam swallows. Maybe he’s just as eager for this as Matt.

“Well,” Matt says. “I’m, um. Off to take a shower.” He brushes down his shirt. “I’ll see the two of you in a minute.”

He stops off, one of his bags in his hand, like he already owns the suite, his shirt flying behind him back into the living room.

“He always like that?” Mox asks, stretching out.

Adam nods. “Always.”

“Seems exhausting,” Mox says, grabbing the remote.

“Sure fuckin’ is,” Adam says, laughing. “Put on the show from last night. Matt was in charge of cameras and I want to see if he did a good job.”

The two of them watch the first match and two promos of Dynamite before they hear someone clear their throat, rather insistently, from the bedroom.

“You need something, princess?” Mox yells.

“Yeah,” Matt yells back. “It’s about time.”

“You just turned the shower off, so don’t get bitchy,” Adam calls, and he rolls his eyes at Mox.

Mox grins. “God, you two are gonna be so fun.”

Adam feels a chill wash down his body, a mix of anticipation and Mox’s words.

Matt, inexplicably, is dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of soft looking sweatpants. “Alright,” Matt says, stretching his arms out and tucking his hands behind his head. “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Adam says. He can’t resist walking over and kissing Matt, just a little one, before stepping back to stand next to Mox.

Matt pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes darting from Adam to Mox. The attitude, the cockiness, starts to fall off of him like sheets of snow from a roof, revealing Matt’s pretty-eyed desire laid bare.

Nobody speaks. Mox and Adam stand next to each other, unmoving. Adam hates to admit it, but he wants to follow Mox’s lead on this one.

“Is – isn’t anybody gonna come over here?” Matt asks. He wiggles. “You’re just staring at me like – like you want to eat me alive or something.”

“That what you want?” Adam asks.

Matt presses his lips together, eyes flicking from Mox to Adam. “Not quite.”

“Yeah?” Mox asks. “Tell me what you’re looking for, Matt. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Matt exhales. “E-everything?”

“I want to hear every detail that you’re thinking off,” Mox says. His eyes flick to Adam, who nods. “Or else we’re not doing it.”

Matt nods. “Yeah, that – that’s fair. Gotta make sure we’re all in agreement.”

Adam laughs. “Baby, I love you so much, but you’re making our threesome sound like a business deal.”

“I mean, it kind of is,” Matt says, shrugging. “Only instead of credit cards, it’s dicks. And instead of a cash register, it’s me.” He flares red. “Oh, boy.”

“Did you just get turned on by talking about money?” Mox turns to Adam. “What the fuck is wrong with him?

“That’s the wrong question,” Adam says, and he walks over to the bed so he can smack roll Matt over and smack his ass. “The question is what isn’t wrong with him.”

“I am right here,” Matt grumbles, but he’s got a little smile on his lips.

“Tell ya what,” Mox says, falling into the chair. “How about you lay down on the bed and tell us while you touch yourself?” Mox pats the arm of the chair. “Come on over, Cowboy. Bet you’re used to riding.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.” But Adam walks over and makes himself comfortable on Mox’s lap, flinging a leg over the arm of the chair.

“You two are too big for that chair,” Matt says, licking his lips as he stares. “Way too big.”

“Is this anxiety coming through?” Adam asks. “Because if this is a metaphor –”

“Is not,” Matt scoffs. He takes off his shirt like he’s offended at the suggestion. “Mox, you don’t know this, but Adam and I have been practicing.”

Mox chuckles, a warm rumble on Adam’s back. “Practicing?”

“If that’s what they call it then we should be experts by now,” Adam mutters.

“Maybe not – oh – maybe not practicing, I guess, but I’ve been working myself up to this, and I have been able to take the biggest one we have with Adam,” Matt says. He seems cocky, proud of himself as he pulls down his sweatpants. He’s already hard, pretty red cock curving up toward his belly as he steps back and lays down on the bed. “I mean, not to be a dick, but you can’t be much bigger than that one, based on our previous encounter.”

“He always talk like that?” Mox asks, lips by Adam’s neck, and it is distracting as hell that his arch rival’s lips are brushing against his skin while his boyfriend is jerking off on the bed. “He really does make everything sound like a business meeting.”

“You get used to it,” Adam says, grinding back on Mox’s lap. He can play dirty, too. “You gotta lean into it. Treat it like a corporate role play or something.” He grins. “Baby, show Mox what happens when I call you Mr. Jackson.”

Matt exhales, entire body rolling as he fucks up into his fist. “That’s not fair,” he murmurs. “I’m trying to explain a fantasy here.”

“Then explain it,” Mox says. “We ain’t got all day.”

That is an absolute lie, and all three of them know it. Mox made sure this suite was available until 11am tomorrow for this exact reason, and yet Matt nods, turning his glassy eyes over to Mox and Adam.

“I want you both inside me at once,” he says, eyes locked onto Adam. “I want you both,” he pauses, and Adam knows he’s steadying himself to look at Mox when he says it, “to fuck me at the same time.”

“Yeah?” Mox says. He slides his hand into Adam’s lap. “Feels like the Cowboy’s into it.”

“You are, too, jackass,” Adam replies, rolling his ass against Mox’s hard cock. “Don’t get to uppity about it.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Adam stands and pulls his shirt off over his head. “Matty, hands off.”

Matt takes his hand off his dick. “Why?”

He grins at Matt, then grins back at Mox. “We can’t let Mox get started here without a show, can we?”

“Oh!” Matt says. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I can do that.” He makes little grabby hands, and Adam wants to fuck him silly right now. But they have plans. “C’mere.”

Adam leans over Matt and kisses him deep, keeping his body away from Matt’s as he licks into his mouth, as he marks a few claims over Matt’s skin. Mox will share his body, sure. But Matt will always, always be Adam’s.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mox murmurs. Adam can hear rustling. “Look, you two both know you’re hot as hell, but this feels illegal to watch or something.” Adam thinks Mox has shucked all of his clothes. “Fuck.”

Adam slides his hand down Matt’s thigh and digs his fingers in the way he know gets Matt all whimpery, hiking his leg up. Matt drops his head back and moans.

“That one was on purpose, wasn’t it,” Mox says. Adam can hear his breathing. “Jesus Christ.”

Adam laughs. “Yeah. He’s good at being a pretty little performer.” Adam leans down and kisses Matt again, gently. “You ready, baby?”

Matt nods, determination in his eyes. “I got this.”

“Pretty little performer,” Adam repeated, voice no more than a murmur as he brushes Matt’s hair from his eyes. “One set of eyes on you isn’t enough, is it? You need two people all over you.”

Matt whines like he’s trying to get more contact.

“You want him over here too?” Adam asks. He bites at Matt’s neck. “Can’t get enough. Greedy son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Matt pants. “Greedy. Want both of you. C’mon.”

Adam feels the mattress dip as Mox sits on the bed next to Matt. “Pretty little thing,” he says. “Just wants to be used, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Adam pulls back to see Matt’s chest heaving. “One dick’s not enough for him. He’s gotta be split open by two.”

Matt whines. “This is fun and all, but I really, really want to get railed now, okay?”

“You know that’s not actually what you want,” Mox says. “Say what you actually want.”

Matt flames red. “I want you two inside of me at once.”

“That’s better,” Adam says. He grabs Matt by the hip and flips him over. “But first, we gotta get you ready.”

“I got an idea,” Mox says. He slides down the bed and palms at Matt’s ass. “You like getting eaten out?”

Adam rolls his eyes at how Matt immediately shifts so his ass is on display. “Yes,” he deadpans. “Yes, he does.”

“Cool,” Mox says, and he dives in.

Adam’s never gotten to see Matt’s face when somebody’s tongue is in his ass, but it’s almost as desperate and open as when he’s getting fucked.

“You like that?” Adam asks.

“Yes,” Matt hisses. “Yes, I – oh my god.”

“Tongue’s not just good for talking, huh?” Adam says. He leans in and kisses Matt, awkward as their faces are pressed into the mattress, but Matt doesn’t seem too upset about it.

Mox makes sloppy, slurping noises, eager and goal oriented, and Adam’s got no choice but to rip off his pants and stroke his dick about it.

“Please?” Matt asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

“No,” Adam says. “You have to wait. I’m not putting my dick in your mouth when you specifically asked for it in your ass.”

Matt pouts for a second, then gasps. “Oh, Mox, right there.”

“Yeah?” Mox says, and his beard is shimmering with spit. “There?”

Matt nods. “I can take another finger, c’mon.”

“When’d that happen?” Adam asks. He’s not confused, exactly. But.

“About a minute ago, when you were fucking around with him,” Mox says. “He took it so pretty, too.”

Adam can tell when Mox adds another finger by Matt’s face.

“You use the –”

“What do you think I am, an amateur?” Mox asks. He picks up the bottle, already with a sizeable amount missing, and wiggles it with his free hand. “Of course I used lube.” He must do something interesting with his fingers because Matt gasps. “Didn’t I, Matt?”

Matt nods. “Okay, this is fun, whatever, but this has been too much teasing.” He grabs at Adam’s arm until Adam falls so he’s half slumped on the pillows. “Get in me.”

“You are not ready,” Mox says. “Like, maybe for one.”

“Exactly,” Matt says, and he swings a leg over Adam’s hips and sinks down on Adam’s cock so fast it’s almost impossible. Matt exhales so deeply and so thoroughly it’s like he’s surfacing from a riptide. “There we go.” He rocks a little, like he’s getting used to the size of Adam. “Okay. Mox, go ahead.”

Adam and Mox meet eyes over Matt’s shoulders, and Adam sees his befuddlement mirrored in Mox’s eyes.

“When the fuck did you get the idea you’re in charge?” Mox asks. “And, no, hold on.”

“A finger, obviously,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “Come on. You want in on this, right?” He rolls his hips masterfully and Adam can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. “You really want to wait?”

Mox bites his lip. “Jesus. You’re a fucking terror.”

“Isn’t he?” Adam says. “It’s great until it isn’t.”

Matt shrugs, throwing his hair over his shoulder. It slaps Mox in the face, but Matt doesn’t seem to even notice. He rolls his hips again.

“You gotta quit that, baby, or this’ll be over way too soon,” Adam says.

“Quick on the draw, Cowboy?”

“You shut the fuck up,” Adam says, glaring at Mox. “Nobody asked you.”

“Pretty sure your boyfriend asked me.”

“Would you two stop the measuring contest and start competing to see, like, who can fuck me better?” Matt asks. “Jesus. I thought I was the most annoying person in this room.”

“I hate it when you’re self-aware and still manage to insult me,” Adam says, but he leans up to pull Matt for a kiss.

He gasps into Matt’s mouth when he feels something brush up against the base of his dick and then alongside of it. Mox’s finger is careful, tentative, but such an unbelievable shift of experience that Adam might get addicted if he’s not careful.

“That’s – oh,” Matt says, shifting. “Okay. Yeah, that’s a lot.”

“Thought you could take Adam and the other dildo or whatever.”

“The dildo doesn’t move on its own, and it isn’t attached to a big, annoying bitch,” Matt retorts.

There’s a smack and Matt grins, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” Mox grumbles.

It takes ages. Mox is incredibly meticulous, Adam is still and concentrated, and Matt, bitchy and demanding as ever, doesn’t let up the litany of complaints and demands for more.

Finally, after what seems like years, Mox is set up behind Matt, his thighs spread over Adam’s as he presses along Matt’s back.

“Are you ready?” Mox asks. “If there’s any problems –”

“There won’t be,” Matt promises.

“Matt,” Adam says, grabbing his face and turning him to look into Adam’s eyes.

Matt nods. “I’ll say. I promise.”

“Good boy.” He yanks Matt down for one last kiss. “He ready, Mox?”

“I think so.” Adam’s never seen such concentration written on Mox’s brow before. “Alright, Matt?”

“Do it,” Matt says, punctuating with a deep exhale.

Adam drops against the headboard as he feels the blunt head of Mox’s cock slide in next to him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes.

Matt braces his hands on Adam’s chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Adam reaches up, brushes his knuckles against Matt’s cheek. “You okay?”

Matt nods. “Just – it’s so much.”

“In a good way?” Mox asks, voice tight.

“An amazing way,” Matt says. He wiggles his hips and Adam feels – fucking hell, he can feel Mox’s cock rub up against his. “Oh, this is great.”

“Do you want me to move?” Mox asks.

“Yes,” Adam and Matt say at the same time.

Mox chuckles. “Don’t have to be so eager for it, you two.” Adam can’t see much but Mox’s face, but he can feel when he pulls his hips back then pushes in further. Matt whines. “Okay, mostly you.” Mox leans in and pulls Matt’s hair back from his face. “Taking two at once like the best hole there is.”

Matt whines, dropping his head. “I wanna move,” he says, “I – but I can’t. I feel – this is –” He cuts off as Mox pulls just a little further back. “Oh, god, I can’t do anything.”

“Is that a good thing?” Adam asks. He glances down and Matt’s leaking like a broken faucet, still hard as a rock.

“It’s amazing,” Matt says, “like – like I have to – like I can’t – it’s up to you two.” Adam can tell he’s trying to say something else but can’t get the words out, so Adam twitches his hips just the tiniest bit and both Matt and Mox yelp.

“Goddamnit, Cowboy,” Mox growls. “Get your hips back on the bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Adam says, but he does, as slow as he can, settle his hips back down flat. Matt’s eyes roll back.

“I – Mox,” he says. “Move. Do – please?”

It’s not like how he’s used to it, with Matt. Mox keeps adding lube when he pulls out and it’s getting everywhere, and Matt’s hands stay on Adam’s chest, arms, stomach, bracing himself and digging in nails. It’s slow. It’s intentional. And it’s incredible.

“I’m so proud of you, Matty,” Adam murmurs, and he reaches down to stroke at Matt’s cock. “Look at you. I knew you could do it, but I didn’t – you’re so good at this.”

Matt’s eyes flutter shut at the praise. “Yeah, I knew I could, too.”

Mox snorts. “The fuck have I gotten myself into…”

“Matt, obviously,” Adam replies, stroking Matt with the end goal in sight.

Something about the phrase does it for Matt, and he comes with a whimper, quiet for the first time of his life, as he paints Adam’s chest and stomach. The way he clenches around Mox and Adam, tight and hot and – fuck. Adam’s not even done much, but he needs it.

“Matt, you okay if I…?”

“Yes,” Matt says to Mox. Adam feels like he’s being tormented, still and powerless as he waits.

Mox rolls his hips gently, the head of his cock catching against Adam’s, and Adam can barely handle it. It’s taking more restraint than he knew he had not to go wild. Instead, he swipes at the come on his chest and offers messy fingers to Matt, who takes them into his mouth eagerly.

“I hate how hot you two are,” Mox grumbles, voice tight. But then he grunts and Adam feels his dick pulse against his own as he gently, slowly, rocks his hips. The press against Adam’s dick, the feeling of Mox’s come next to him inside of Matt. He didn’t think he was that close, but, then again, there was once a time where he didn’t think he’d be with Matt again, either.

He closes his eyes and has to force his hips still. “I’m – oh, god, I can’t – I want to, but I can’t –”

“Are we accidentally edging you?” Matt giggles. He tilts his hips back and Adam feels Mox slip his softening dick out.

“Yes,” Adam answers. “Matty, please, I have to…” He can’t even speak. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he knows how close he is, how badly he needs to come.

“Are you begging me?” Matt asks, and Adam opens his eyes to see Matt on top of his, grinning and gleeful. “Is this a role reversal?”

Adam wraps an arm behind Matt’s back and flips them, slamming Matt to the mattress. His dick is painfully hard, he’s so close. “Can I fuck you?” he asks before sliding back into Matt. He knows Matt might be sore, sensitive, not able to do anything further. He hovers, as still as he can get himself. He knows he might have to find some other way to get off. But he has to. He can’t wait anymore.

“Please fuck me,” Matt says, eyes soft, and Adam dives back in.

He can feel Mox’s come around his cock like last time, easing the glide, and it’s over in seconds. He lets out a hoarse cry as he buries himself deep inside of Matt, adding to Mox’s mess, dropping down on shaking elbows.

He feels a hand on his back, calloused and huge. “Damn, man.”

Adam lifts his head. “Hmm?”

“That was some fucking wild restraint,” Mox says. He rolls to the side of the bed, laying next to Matt and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’ve never seen anybody simultaneously out of his fucking mind and steady in my life.”

Adam shrugs, still breathing heavily. “Not gonna hurt him,” Adam mutters, dropping his head back down. It’s too much work to keep it up. “Never gonna hurt him again, if I can help it.”

Matt sighs and runs his fingers through Adam’s hair. “Love you, too.”

Mox groans. “How did double penetration turn fucking tender? I hate both of you.”

“You do not,” Adam says, and he finally can steady his muscles enough to pull out of Matt at the slowest pace possible, his cock stinging with oversensitivity. He falls to the side with open arms and Matt dives into them, clamoring onto Adam’s chest like an eager starfish. Mox scoots in to fill the space, lining his body against Adam’s.

“Hey,” Mox says. “You good?”

Adam nods, sleepy but sated. “Different than I expected. You’re a bitch even when your cock’s next to mine. I’m surprised.”

Mox shrugs. “Meeting the energy of the room, you could say.”

Matt lifts a weak arm and flips Mox off.

They lay like that, cozy and quiet, for some time. Adam finds his mind wiped, his body tired, and his anxiety gone. There’s not enough energy left in him to feel it. He trails fingers up and down Matt’s spine, knuckles along Mox’s chest. It’s almost too comfortable. He might need to find an excuse to do something like this again, just to reach this feeling afterwards where things feel this comfortably blank. He’ll start thinking up experiments when he has enough brain power to remember his own name.

When he hears little snuffles he thinks Matt’s fallen asleep, which would mean waking him up which is always unpleasant. He exchanges a little smile with Mox, who raises an eyebrow. Adam shrugs.

A few moments later, Matt finally stirs and sits up.

“So,” he says, smiling a little sleepy but with light in his eyes. “How do the two of you feel about spitroasting?”

“Can we recover from the first threesome first and then talk about the next one?” Adam asks, pulling Matt’s hair away from his face. “The king of one track minds, I swear.”

“There’s a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom,” Mox offers. “Speaking of recovery, you know.” He tucks some of Matt’s hair behind his ear, gentler than Adam expected. “You’re gonna be sore for a while, babe.”

Matt turns a little pinker.

“You just called him babe,” Adam says, and he hears laughter in his voice. “Be careful. That’s how the two of us ended up together the first time.”

Mox stands up and stretches. Adam’s no longer above watching that scarred, beautiful body as it moves, lean muscles under decorated skin. He figures fucking his boyfriend alongside Mox makes all boundaries disappear. “I’ll hear that story someday, I’m sure,” he mutters. “But let’s go check out that jacuzzi.”

Mini Playlist: Greedy - Ariana Grande 3 - Britney Spears FUCK - Snow Wife Your Wish Is My Command - Kim Petras

#HangMatt #HangMoxMatt #Heheheheheheheheheh #scissormedaddyass #I hope you like it Vera!!!!!#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #anxious millennial dreamboat #Matt Attrackson #madly in love with leather daddy jon moxley

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