#and I’d have to probably just drive back and do it all anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

julymusings · 2 months ago

Note

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded.

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp.

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field.

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

#jason todd #red hood #batman #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd x you #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #bruce wayne

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tldrthor · 26 days ago

Text

promises we intend to keep | steve rogers

Summary: The Avenger's spend time with their comatose friend, Cap's sanity slips from him as he spends every night by her bedside. Is blind faith enough?

Part 2 to things we shouldn't have said (prev. classic enemies to lovers stuff) // He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. // word count: 4.3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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“Hi, (y/n).” He settled himself into the chair next to the bed, the familiar antiseptic smell filling his nostrils, the beep, beep, beep of her heart like music to his ears. He had hated it at first, but now, it was evidence that she was still here. There was still hope. “I’ve got a break between meetings so I figured I’d come down and say hello.”

He leaned back, watching her peaceful features as unmoving as they had been for nearly a month now. He frowned at the wires connected to her neck and chest, knowing that if she was awake she would’ve hated that. Part of him wanted to rip them off, but his more rational thinking prevented him from doing that.

Dr. Cho’s words circled round his mind, as they hadn’t stopped doing since she spoke them all those weeks ago. “She’s not out of the woods yet. She died twice on the table, and requires all manners of intervention going forward. We’ll only know the extent of the damage when she wakes up –” The doctor had paused for just a second, trying to soften what was only certain to be a killing blow. “–If she wakes up.”

Every time he remembered those words, his knees felt as weak as Bambi on ice. The nausea he used to feel every time he entered this room had faded, and the shell-shock had worn. She still occupied every moment of his thoughts, awake or unconscious. Not that he had been doing a lot of sleeping.

He opened the book at the page he had last left off at, when Sam had come downstairs and dragged the Captain to bed himself last night. “Just to recap,” He spoke to her regardless of her response to him. “Laurie confessed to Jo, but she rejected him. Beth is still sick and boy, that’s rough.”

He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

================================================

“(Y/l/n), I’ve had enough now.” Natasha charged through the doors to where (y/n) lay. She threw herself down in the chair, leaning her head on her asleep friend’s shoulder, trying to gain what little emotional support she could from her usual source of sanity amongst the chaos of the compound. “The boys are driving me crazy. I think you’ve made your point; Cap is sorry – he’s very, very sorry, borderline depressed – so you can come back.”

She smiled a charming, pleading smile. But no one was there to see it. She dropped the smile after a few seconds.

“(Y/n), it’s hard without you here. No one’s the same, and Steve won’t accept any missions so we can’t even escape. Sam and Bucky are about to tear each other apart, and Cap just wallows in the gym whenever he’s not here with you.”

More silence.

“Anyways, Cap said that he wants someone here as much as possible. And we haven’t hung out in a while, so if you don’t mind we’re going to watch the new season of Love Island together.” She kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs over the hospital bed and getting comfortable.

================================================

The next visitor didn’t say anything as he walked through the doors, hovering by the foot of the bed. He uncomfortably brought his hands in and out of his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other.

He eventually moved beside the bed, reaching a hand out to her forehead, to get rid of a hair that had found itself there. He stood there, staring, in silence for a while longer. He swallowed, took a breath, and spoke out loud;

“Kid, I don’t know if you can hear me.” He paused. “You probably can’t.”

He paced around the room, continuing; “I just want you to know, I got your little letter. Really, more of a stunt, very childish – anyway. I want you to know that if that’s your wish, I’ll help you out in setting up. But I also need you to know that you’re going to have to tell me that to my face. So you’ll have to wake up.”

“Also, I’m your boss and your sick pay is running out, so chop chop.” He joked to himself. He basked in the silence for another second.

“It’s not the same without you, (y/l/n). Hope to talk soon.”

“Mr. Stark, Mrs Potts is requesting your presence in the kitchen.” FRIDAY chimed in right on time. He muttered a be right up, taking one last look at his young teammate, and walked out the doors.

================================================

A month to the day since she was shot, Steve couldn’t sleep. Before the whole debacle, he would’ve just gone to the gym and fought it out of his system. But now, he couldn’t bear being anywhere but in the medical bay. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up in that chair, neck in excruciating pain, the book on the floor. Or, the amount of times Bucky or Sam or Natasha had come downstairs and marched him back to bed.

He couldn’t help it. The thought of her waking up alone, not knowing where she is, was his greatest concern – scratch that, his greatest fear was her not waking up at all.

He didn’t take the time to change into proper clothes, instead deciding to head down in his pyjamas – ones that she had complimented him on, once upon a time. Red flannel pants and a matching henley – she had described it as ‘lumberjack chic’ and then explained that that was a good thing. He hadn’t realised back then, but Steve now thinks she might have been flirting. He cursed how much of an idiot he was before this disaster.

He wished desperately he could turn back time to then. Before he decided the only way not to love her, was to hate her.

“It’s me, again.” He spoke, taking his familiar spot on the chair next to the bed. He yawned, getting himself more comfortable, flicking the blanket they had all collectively decided was required over his legs. “Now, where were we?” He picked up the book again, reciting words from the pages until it fell from his hand, loud snores from his mouth filling the room.

================================================

When he awoke again, he was in the same familiar pain he always had when he spent too much time in the chair. This time he had fallen forward, his head resting on the bed and… his hand entwined in hers.

He sighed, giving himself the luxury of just a second feeling what he would never have. Her hands were soft, and smooth. Not like his own. They were warm, and comfortable, and something about her fingers holding onto his just felt right.

It wouldn’t be respectful to linger for longer than that, not without her knowing, but as he tried to pull his hand away –

Was that a twitch?

He stared at her hand, now more awake and alert than he had been all month. There was no way, he was definitely just going delirious through stress, or lack of sleep, or maybe his age had just caught up with him because –

A second twitch.

“Oh my god.” He glared daggers into her hand, as if that would do something. Maybe he really was losing his marbles. This was just wishful thinking. His heart feeling like it was about to thump, thump, thump right out of his chest. Do it again. Please, do it again.

When it happened for a third time, and he saw it with his own eyes, he could only make a noise that could really only be described as a squeal. On his feet in an instant, his hand finding its way to her cheek, cupping her face.

There was no other sign of life. He stared and stared and stared. “Wake up, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here.” He pleaded. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he considered them; “If you wanted to prove a point, consider it proven. You’re not a liability, you’ve never, ever been a liability.”

“Just wake up. I am so, so sorry for everything.” His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes staring at her face looking for anything that might indicate she was coming back to him. “Just wake up.”

Nothing.

He sat back down, defeated. He had gotten his hopes up, and it all came crashing back down. He placed his hand firmly back on hers as he leant his head on the bed, wet patches forming on the sheets as saltwater leaked from his eyes.

====================================

“Cap, we’re not saying we don’t believe you —” Sam was interrupted.

Steve turned away from his friends, growing more and more frustrated with every sentence uttered. They didn’t believe him. She had moved. She was coming back, but no one would listen.

“You don’t believe me. I promise her hand twitched.” His jaw tensed, his stare as far away from his friends as he could get.

“Stevie, we believe that you felt something, but you have to admit, bud, you’ve been hardly sleeping and pushing yourself too far. Nothing was picked up on monitors, how would that be?” Bucky reasoned, sitting in the same chair where Steve had been so convinced she was waking up, just hours ago.

He had called them to the room as early as he deemed was responsible that day, and they had come running. Only to find their friend still asleep, and the captain with red eyes and bags under them that only seemed to get worse and worse the more they looked.

Sam sighed, hand reaching up to rub his temple. He had had a pretty consistent headache himself for a good couple of weeks. “Steve, I completely understand. We all want her back, but you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. She’ll wake up, just give her time.”

“Sam, it’s been a month – the doctor said if she was going to wake up it would take around a week.” Steve pleaded, the tears welling in his eyes again. He didn’t care anymore about hiding it from them. They already thought he was crazy anyway.

Sam placed a hand on his back as he wiped the water with the back of his hand.

“We’ll wait as long as it takes, but it has to be we. You can’t be here all the time, Steve. It’s no good if she wakes up and you’ve killed yourself from lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss the moment she comes back.” He whispered.

Sam and Bucky made eye contact, pitying looks cast between them.

Bucky decided to speak, seeing Sam’s heartbreak at trying to reason with their normally solid friend. “Steve, you have to go to bed – don’t argue – but I’ll stay with her. I promise that if anything happens, I will let you know in an instant.”

Steve’s lips drew into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky continued; “Come on, just give me a couple hours, Stevie. I’ll chat to her, we’ll listen to music or something. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

“Come on.” Sam put his arm round Steve, gentle but firmly leading him away. He stole one last glance, as Bucky pulled out his phone to put on some music.

When the boys were finally away, Bucky turned to her. “You’re causing quite a ruckus, tiger. You always liked your sleep, but this is a bit much.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “There’s not much to say, kid – I know that the others have been talking your ear off. We need you back.”

He scrolled on his phone a little. Looking for the playlist she had shared with him – one to blend their music tastes. It was originally just for a mission they had to go on together, but turned into one of his favourite ways to bond with her. Music. He laughed again at the name: ‘Golden Oldie and the Wunderkind’ He remembered the day she had made up the name, they hadn’t stopped laughing for hours.

He clicked shuffle, smiling as I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers came over the speakers. “I know you like this song because it reminds you of Stevie.” He teased, but let it play out. He didn’t quite let himself sing, but he did mouth the words to his favourite verse;

That woman, she’s got eyes that shine, Like a pair of stolen, polished dimes. She asked to dance, I said ‘it’s fine– I’ll see you in the morning time’.

What he didn’t tell her, didn’t dare to say out loud, was that ever since he had mentioned to Steve that she liked the song, Steve had listened to it at least once a day. Particularly after they had their usual fights.

These idiots have a lot to figure out when she wakes up. He thought to himself.

================================================

Bucky got a few hours with her, listening to their playlist, occasionally chatting about the song choices. He briefly tried to read the book on the side, but when he saw it was Little Women, he put it right back down again.

“Sorry, tiger. Not my vibe.” He chuckled.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a slightly-less-haggard Captain America. He had put actual clothes on, looked like he had slept at least a little bit and had even showered. Bucky gave a nod of approval, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair again.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked his friend, who simply nodded in response.

Buck stood, knowing that Steve wanted to be alone with her right now. To not have the pitying looks thrown at him that Bucky couldn’t help but cast. He understood, he had been there.

“See ya, punk.” He gave a hearty smile before leaving.

Steve took his rightful seat, sighing before starting the same routine they had done over, and over, and over again. He was growing so sick of this chair, and the bed, and the beeping from the machines that didn’t seem to be helping at all.

He got through around half a chapter of Little Women, until he realised that Beth was going to die. He didn’t know how he hadn’t remembered, he had heard his mother reading this book all the way back in ‘35. He closed the book, finding death far too triggering, given the current situation.

Just closing the book wasn’t enough, it was like it burned him to hold it. He threw it across the room in a moment of fury. Frustration swept his whole body as he spiralled, down and down and down. He was ashamed of how out of control he had become. He had always been so rational, so measured. He was always the one people came to when they needed grounding – yet he didn’t know how to ground himself.

He rested his head on her arm, his sweaty palms holding her hand with a ferocity hitherto unseen from him. Like his damn life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

“Come on, (y/n),” He pleaded with the air. With God. With her. “I know you’re mad at me, just wake up and we’ll have another shouting match. Just like before.” A brutally defeated tone weighed down his voice, rough and gravelly from the effort of his bargain. He enclosed her hand in both of his own, leaning his head against them.

A cough.

He froze for a second, hiding behind her hand in his. The coughs continued, dry and painful sounding. Was there someone else in the room?

He took a moment to steel himself, peeling himself away from her hand, and staring at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “Oh my god.”

“Water.” She croaked.

He jumped up, the chair going flying backwards. He didn’t notice. With shaking hands, he poured the water from the jug on the bedside table into one of the plastic cups. He held it up to her dry, cracked lips, watching as she drank the whole cup.

“Be careful.” He spoke, instincts kicking in. “You’re on fluids, don’t overload your kidneys.”

She finished, her head laying straight back down on the pillow. He could see in her very brief movements that she was weak. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Her eyes were barely open as she turned her head in his direction.

“Captain?” Her voice was rough as sandpaper, like she was straining just to get her singular words out. He just stared, incredulously.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like he had always said it, and he didn’t even notice. “Oh, my god. You’re awake. I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He had practiced over and over again, what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Thought about it for entire nights when he couldn’t get to sleep. His plans had been poetic and perfect – they were not ‘oh my god you’re awake.’ He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

Her eyes opened, slowly, and she looked around the room. “What happened?” The words were still a struggle to get out and he could tell. He wanted to tell her to rest, to save her voice for later, to recuperate. But he hadn’t heard that sound in so long, that he let himself be selfish – just one more time.

His own mouth when dry at her amnesia. She knew who he was, which was good. But not knowing how she ended up here was a bad sign.

“What do you remember?” She was growing restless at lying down, and she was in so much pain. It felt like her whole body was made of stone, but she used all of the strength she had in her to try to sit up.

She was met by gentle hands, guiding her up and placing pillows behind her to support her. Hands that belonged to her once arch-nemesis, who looked at her now like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She was so confused.

“I remember arguing in the forest.” Her eyes were wide with what Steve could only decipher as panic. “I don’t remember anything else… Why am I here?” The scared tone in her voice broke Steve’s heart all over again, but it could not take over the elation he felt at the fact that she was there.

He took a deep breath, briefly considering what he should tell her, considering all the events of the last month, in particular, that day. One of the worst days of his life.

“You were shot through the chest.” He began. “It knocked you out instantly, we barely got you here alive.” He ran his thumb softly over the back of her hand, unable to make eye contact. “You- you’ve been asleep for a month.”

He decided not to tell her of the fact she had died on the operating table. That could wait.

“A month?!” She shouted, resulting in another coughing fit. He helped her drink some more water, making soothing noises as she did so. It all felt so surreal. Every minute of every day since that moment, he had wished for this. And now it was happening. She was awake, and talking.

Her voice started to clear; “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No. Please, don’t worry about me. You saved me from being shot right before you went down – it was my fault you got hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” She contorted her face into a puzzled expression, looking down at his hand, clasping hers. She said it as a mix between a statement and a question – “We’re holding hands?”

“Yes, um. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and your hand twitched a couple of days ago so that’s why – sorry, I’ll stop-”

As he tried to untangle their hands, she closed her fist and prevented him from doing so. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly, her eyes wide.

“Please, don’t.” Her words were like a child’s as her nostrils flared. She was uncertain. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her uncertain before, not even a flash of hesitance had danced across her features as far back as he could remember. “It feels nice.”

Maybe, he just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Then I’ll keep holding your hand until you ask me to stop.” He promised. A gentle, sincere smile took over his features, which she tried her best to replicate. He observed her face, drinking in the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

It was a stark contrast to how they had last left off – the image replaying over and over again in his mind of her clinging to life, blood leaking from her mouth, her nose, her chest. The inky, sticky red coating his suit and his hands and his shoes. So much blood, endless. Sometimes he still felt the slick heat of it all over him. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to scrub that feeling from his memory.

“Where are the others? Are they okay?” (Y/n) asked, looking around the room at the various bunches of flowers and cards littered upon every surface. Steve had completely forgotten the others existed in his complete shock at her return.

He winced, knowing he should have called for them immediately. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” He spoke directly to her, and then to the ceiling; “FRIDAY, let everyone know that (y/n) is awake.”

“Yes, Captain.” The irish lilt came from above.

It was mere seconds before the doors came barrelling open, the entire team funnelling into the relatively small room, crowding around the bed and exclaiming various different versions of ‘Oh my god’, ‘You’re awake’, ‘Holy shit’. The room was absolute chaos with an unmusical cacophony.

This was allowed to go on for a few minutes, before the on-call doctor, someone (y/n) had never seen before, rounded the corner. “Okay, okay!” He shouted, “This is too much for the patient, I want everyone out – you can come in smaller groups.”

Everyone grumbled but did as they were told, each taking their chance to say ‘call if you need anything’, ‘see you later’ or ‘we’ll come back with sweets’. Bucky ruffled her hair and Natasha pressed a kiss to her cheek, muttering about how a certain Captain would be looking after her. She didn’t really understand what it meant, but a blush spread to her cheeks anyway.

As the last of them filed out, Steve turned to her and asked; “Do you want me to stay?” A certain vulnerability sewn into his question.

“Yes.” She answered far too quickly. “Please, Captain. If that’s okay.” Her voice seemed to get smaller and smaller as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her grip on his hand tightened, both a demand and a question contained within it.

How on Earth could he say no to her? Her wide, gorgeous eyes searched his face for an answer, which he gave by settling further into the chair, pulling it even closer to the bed, if that was even possible.

“Like I said, as long as you want. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Captain not taking his eyes away from her face.

“(Y/n).” He had to tell her, now or never. He wouldn’t risk something like this again, things going unsaid. “I hope you know how sorry I am for what I said, all those weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I realised all this time I’ve not hated you, I’ve …”

She looked at him, her lips parted. Her messy hair splayed in a way where the fluorescent lights caught it, making it look like a sort of pseudo-halo. He knew it, right there and then. This was it.

“I’ve loved you. Since the moment we met.”

A shocked expression on her face moved slowly, her open mouth contorting into a soft, loving smile. She squeezed his hand, bringing her other arm over to hold it as well. Just more contact. That was all she needed.

“Steve, I feel the same.” She was still playing with his actual name, not ‘Captain’ or ‘Rogers’ or a sarcastic ‘Cap’. He couldn’t believe how it sounded coming from her – like it was a new name altogether. Like a song he was discovering for the first time.

He couldn’t help it now, he beamed. “You do?”

She nodded, licking her lips. They were so cracked, and dry. But she didn’t care.

“I– I can’t lean over to you, but… I would love to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t waste any time. Up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing what little distance was left between them. His hands reached her cheeks first, cupping them ever so softly. They breathed together, just for a second, his eyes flicking to hers almost to make sure she knew what she was doing.

And then his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn’t like she had imagined – it wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t angry, wasn’t sudden. It was calculated and gentle and passionate. It was everything she could ever have hoped for.

They pulled apart, Steve knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to hold her breath to kiss her as long as he wanted to. His hand stroked her cheek, his eyes staring into hers. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, before moving up and pressing a kiss to it.

The look in his eyes was one of love, happiness and admiration.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He admitted, breathless from excitement. They smiled at each other wordlessly, growing used to the looks between not being ones of glaring and daggers, but of kindness, and warmth.

The only sound was the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart rate – a sound he had definitely decided he loved. They stayed like that for hours, before she started to fall back asleep – to rest, this time.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, as she slipped back into slumber.

“I promise.” And nothing on Earth could stop him from keeping it.

================================================

TAGS -- I've tagged everyone who requested a part two! You guys really keep my motivation up so I hope it's done you justice <3. This will be the last part for now, but I'm thinking of setting future domestic fics in this universe!

@haven-in-writing @marvelouskatie @veryaverageapple @ironwinnerwonderland @ohdrey89 @waqtzayaontmblr @shygamergirl01 @starkenobi @ynstark

p.s. please please listen to 'I and Love and You' by the Avett Brothers if you haven't before -- it's so Steve and is such a lovely song.

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zvdvdlvr · 11 months ago

Text

— Lunch Break

— 🫧. Synopsis. Spencer hasn’t been feeling well lately. When he accidentally gives you his lunch as well as yours, you have to leave work to make sure he gets his lunch and eats to make sure he gets better. But the thing is, no one knew Spencer had married someone.

— 🫧. Warnings. Blue!collar reader. Female reader. Collective group shock lmao. Foul language. Welder!reader. Pet names. Possible out of character Spencer but i dont really care. I’m so sleep deprived yall.

— 🫧. Other welder!reader pieces. Alive and Breathing.

“Bye, angel,” you murmured after pressing a kiss to your sleepin husband’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Spencer replied tiredly, eyes opening the slightest bit. “I already put your lunch in your cooler. Be safe.”

You smiled. Of course, even though you have to leave at 2 in the morning, Spencer’s already five steps ahead. You turned to leave the bedroom but stopped after hearing him cough. “Before you leave- I got you a few more boxes of that DayQuill/NyQuill stuff and Mucinex. Should be on the counter. Make sure you take them, Spence. I know you haven’t been feeling well. Bye, I love you,” you spoke quickly, throwing your coat on.

Spencer felt a smile forming on his face. His wife: always attentive and gentle (to him at least). “I love you, baby.”

“Hey,” Spencer greeted, picking up his phone and heading out of the bullpen. “What’s up?” Spencer was confused: you didn’t usually call him or contact him when you were at work unless it was absolutely necessary. Were you in trouble? “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, angel. I’m coming over to drop off your lunch. You, uh,” your voice paused, probably observing other drivers’ movements at a red light. “You gave me my lunch and yours. So I’m on my way. Do you want me to come up or… drop it off? I’m all dirty ‘n everything,” you rambled.

“I think you look hot when you get off of work,” Spencer replied with a smile. He felt himself sigh. He was glad nothing had happened to you.

Your laugh crackled through the line. “That’s because it’s a very physical job, Spence.”

Spencer chuckled, “No, babe, I think you’re just… naturally very attractive.”

“You’re too good for me, Spence. Did you take your medicine? You sound pretty nasally,” you questioned.

“Yeah, I took it,” Spencer replied quietly with a smile on his face. You noticed everything- and Spencer was the profiler! “Anyway, I gotta go, babe. Drive safe, my beautiful wife. I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Spencer tucked his ohone back into his pocket and wandered back out to the bullpen. “Hey, so… I have something to tell you,” Spencer blurted out to Emily and Derek who were watching him like a hawk.

“What is it?” Emily asked immediately, eyebrows furrowing.

“So, I want to apologize for keeping this for so long but I just- I didn’t know how to tell you. I mean, not to mention the fact that you wouldn’t have believed me anyway but that’s not the point. The point is I want you to stay calm and don’t be mad at me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, kid, slow your roll. What’s goin’ on?” Derek asked.

Spencer looked at both Emily and Derek before sighing. “My wife is gonna be swinging by soon and… she’s… all I’m asking is don’t scare her away. Actually,” Spencer paused, smiling slightly, “she might scare you a little bit.”

Emily’s brows raised higher then Spencer previously thought possible. “You… What?” She asked, standing up.

“You’re actually joking.” Derek stated, face solemn. “You’re joking, man, come on.”

Spencer shrugged, hand coming up to pull the necklace his ring was on from under his shirt to show his coworkers. “We went to the courthouse one year, eleven months. two weeks, four days, and twelve hours ago.”

Derek blinked. “Are- You’re seriously not joking?”

“I have the documents at home to prove it,” Spencer replied, tucking it back under his shirt. “If, you know, you want to see them.”

“I’d rather see her in person,” Emily stated, already starting her pacing. “But like, you didn’t kidnap her or anything did you?”

Spencer shook his head. “No, believe me. She loves me, Emily. I love her.”

Derek sat, hands on his head. “So we missed the wedding and everything? You didn’t say a word, man.”

Spencer nodded. “We were gonna tell you, invite you over for our anniversary.”

“Spencer, what’s her name?” Emily asked suddenly.

“Who’s name?” A low, gravely voice asked. Aaron Hotchner stood, hands on his hips, staring each of his agents down.

“Spencer’s wife’s,” Derek responded slowly.

“Oh,” Hotch replied casually.

“You knew?!” Emily asked loudly, mouth dropped open in shock.

“I saw he added someone else to the insurance, and there was another emergency contact. I haven’t seen her though,” Hotch answered honestly.

“When’s she gonna be here?”

“Soon. She called me probably five minutes ago, so estimating the amount of traffic about this time, I’d guess probably ten minutes.”

“I assume you can find something to do for ten minutes?” The corner of Hotch’s lip turned up just the slightest bit, and he had a hint of amusement in his voice. When Derek finally tore his eyes off of Spencer and Emily bee-lined for her desk, Hotch turned around and stalked over to Rossi’s office to tell him the good news.

Spencer stood up when he heard the unmistakable sound of your steel-toed boots making comtact with the floor. A sweet smile painted his face as he gravitated to you, shoulders relaxing at your presence. “Hey, baby,” he whispered when he was close enough to you.

“Hi you,” you replied, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You brandished a brown paper bag, Spencer’s name written in your handwriting.

Emily watched you walk in. You were wearing two shirts, dark in color with small holes decorating the sleeves and the hem of both shirts. Your pants were dark and thick, dark liquids and stains all over them. The boots on your feet were definitely thick: steel toed if Emily had to guess. A physical worker, she put the pieces together. Electician? That wouldn’t explain all the stains. Mechanic? Couldn’t be: why would your shirts be all torn if you were fixing cars? Welder? The pieces fit, though Emily wasn’t too educated in that department. She had respect for you. Not many women Emily knew could handle the responsibilities of such a physical job, or handle all the creeps, jerks, and perverts that passed in your workplace.

“Derek,” Emily whisper-yelled. He looked up and she gestured to where Spencer had strode over to you.

“Come on.”

Emily stood up, brushing her hands on her pants and followed Derek to where you were conversing.

“-come back? He’s been slacking off too much, baby, you shouldn’t let him keep relying on you to get his stuff done,” Spencer rambled angrily.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Spence. How are you feeling? I brough- oh. Hi,” you greeted.

“Hi! Mrs. Reid, right?” Emily asked, sticking her hand out.

You smiled brightly and nodded. When you saw her hand and showed her your own: “I don’t, uh, think you’d want to do that,” you murmured.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Emily assured honestly.

You returned her genuine smile and clasped her hand. “Thank you. You’re… Emily? Right? And then you’re Derek?” You asked, turning to face Morgan.

“That’s us,” Morgan answered.

“I don’t think Spencer’s brought me up. I’m y/n Reid,” you introduced. “Sorry for all the grime. I came to drop off Spencer’s lunch,” you explained, shooting Spencer a smile, who kept his eyes trained on you the whole time.

“Good to meet you, y/n.” Emily said. “If… if you’re alright with it, I’d like to get the team together. To meet you. If,” she glanced between you and Spencer who was watching you unblinkingly, “that is okay with both of you? I don’t want to push you.”

Derek side eyed Emily. Penelope would probably scare y/n away, even though she didn’t mean to.

“Up to you, baby,” Spencer murmured when you turned to face him.

“Doesn’t bother me,” you answered. Glancing at your Casio, you nodded, “I’ve got an hour.”

“It’ll be fast,” Emily reassured with a smile.

Emily and Derek split up, Emily going up to get Rossi and Hotch, Derek rounding up JJ and Garcia.

“Are you sure, baby?” Spencer asked. He led you to his desk, setting down the bag you gave him. “I don’t- they-“

“Do you want us to do this another day? When I’m not in my work clothes?” You asked, refusing to sit down on anything.

Spencer shook his head. “No, no. I just want you to be prepared. They can be overwhelming.”

“‘Overwhelming’ I hear?”

You turned your head and saw two men and Emily walking towards you both. The younger looking one was Hotchner because you knew David Rossi’s face; him being a famous author and everything.

“Hello! You must be the missus,” Rossi greeted, sticking his hand out. Good lord, you thought, feds and their handshakes.

You showed Rossi your dirt stained hands and opened her mouth.

“We’ve touched dead bodies, y/n. I promise we won’t get upset at a little grease,” Emily explained gently. Good god, you thought.

Regardless, you shook Rossi and Hotch’s hand, grateful for Emily’s reassurance. Spencer wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He leaned in, whispering “You’re doing great, baby.”

“So,” Hotch began, “I want to personally thank you for keeping Reid sane and healthy.”

Emily and Rossi both laughed. “Yeah, he’s got enough trouble on the field,” Emily joked.

You elbowed Spencer, a grin painting your face. “Is that right?”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s right or not: I’ll always come back to you,” Spencer replies softly, eyed swiftly darting to your lips.

“Spencer!” You reprimanded, smacking him (lightly) on the stomach. “Your bosses are right there, you-“

A loud shriek cut you off, making everyone’s gaze dart to a person behind you. “She’s real! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Reid! You didn’t even drop a singular hint that you were hitched!”

Spencer chuckled, pulling your form a little closer to his. “If I remember correctly, JJ saw my ring when I was asleep on the plane: I assumed she had told everyone and you didn’t want to bring it up.”

“For a genius, you’re pretty dumb,” a new voice cut in. “Hi, I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.” The blonde smiled warmly and brought you in for a swift hug.

“Ah! Hello, you gorgeous soul! I’m Penelope!” A shorter blonde, more colorful and energetic, embraced you. “I’m so glad to meet you, even though, you know, I didn’t even knew you existed until about two minutes ago.” She shot your husband a look. “But, I would cery much like to get to know you, as would JJ and Emily if you can’t tell.”

You smiled. “I’d love to now, but seeing as I’m technically on my lunch break, I don’t think I’ll have time to do everything you probably have in mind. Could we,” you turned to Spencer, eyes glinting, “bring them over for dinner?”

“Anything you want, babe,” Spencer replied. Truly, if you had asked him to give you his heart, he would find a way to rip the organ out of his chest and give it to you in his bood stained hands. Dinner? No problem.

“I’ll give you my number. Penelope could make a groupchat or something,” you suggested.

Everyone nodded. Hotch was looking forward to this dinner. And Rossi, no matter what he said.

After you gave Penelope your phone number and everyone dispersed, Emily and Derek were wise enough to go busy themselves with a vending machine.

“You alright, baby?” Spencer asked.

You nodded. “I’m alright. Glad I finally met them. I, uh, hope you’re not mad about the dinner thing.”

Spencer scoffed. “I wouldn’t get mad over that.”

You shrugged. “Well. I should probably head back to work. Sorry for getting you all dirty,” you apologized again, pulling away from Spencer quickly, remembering you were in your work attire.

“It’s alright, baby. ‘M just glad I got to see you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, a sly smile forming on your face. “You’ve been awfully sappy lately, Spence. Are you sure you’re alright? I’m seriously considering taking you to a doctor.”

Spencer laughed. “I’m your sap,” he responded casually.

“Okay. Seriously. Stop making me get lost in your eyes because I got to go to work. Bye. I love you,” you babbled, pulling Spencer down to kiss you.

“Bye, wife,” Spencer whispered into your lips.

“Bye, husband.”

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

I’d love if you could do a very fluffy-smut with Spencer, like you had a tough case and the day after he calls asking you to go to his apartment and you see he has made food & made a fort to watch movies with fairy lights and just everything really romantic & it ending with very slow/soft sex🩵

A/N: I loved writing this one! Spencer is absolutely the type to build a perfectly engineered pillow fort just because you're having a bad day 😭😭 I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, soft sex, oral sex (f receiving), slow/ gentle sex, multiple orgasms, implied creampie/ no contraception mentioned :) tee hee

There was something about the cases that took you to the other side of the country that sunk the ache into your bones just that little bit more.

It didn't matter if you were going for a kidnapping or a serial or a spree, you always returned more weary than before. The weeks work that you endured was never as tough as returning home to your empty apartment, to the cold floor and the lonely bed.

This time, your case had a happy ending. You weren't sure how many more of them you were going to be able to live through before the bad endings rendered them null and void. It didn't matter how many people you saved some days because your brain was crowded with the names and faces of the ones you didn't.

The drive home from Quantico was unsurprisingly quiet. Having landed in the dead of night, there were never going to be too many people on the roads to your apartment.

You weren't sure if it was fate, or the fact that you hadn't eaten anything in the last 18 hours that made you pull over to the side of the road to pick something up from the 24 hour drive thru, but in the end you were glad you did.

The second you pulled your car off the road, taking a breather and deciding to stretch your legs a bit before going in to order, your phone screen lit up.

“Spencer,” you answered the phone, “what's up?”

“Y/N, hey, I just got home. Listen, remember last month I was talking to you about that one indie film that I couldn't find anywhere? Well, a friend of mine from college just sent me a file entitled ‘the movie.’”

You weren't sure if it was Spencer’s enthusiasm or just the way you were always ready to drop anything to do something with him that had you giggling and nodding along. You didn't remember the discussion, let alone the movie he meant, but you liked hearing him talk about the things he was passionate about.

“So I was thinking, we're both probably not going to get much sleep anyway since we clocked out only 23 minutes ago - movie night?”

“You couldn't have called at a better time, Spencer. I'm grabbing food, text me your order and I'll see you in 15.”

-X-

The drive to Spencer’s apartment was clear, but the hum in the air was lighter than the silence of before. By the time you pulled onto his street, your mood had already brightened significantly.

You trudged up to his apartment softly so as not to cause any complaints and sent him a text to let him know you were waiting outside.

You knew instantly that he'd received and read it - the garbled sound of the large man tripping over his feet in his attempt to rush to the door were the same every time you arrived. Stubbing his toe on some pile of books or the other was practically ritual.

“Hi,” he whispered, opening the door just a crack and giving you a bright smile.

“Hi,” you smiled back. “I bought food.”

“Perfect. That's perfect. You're… come on in. It's cold, right?” He guided you into the small entryway in his apartment and let you drop your keys with his as if they were supposed to be tangled together.

“I have a little surprise.” He said, suddenly sounding bashful as he grabbed for your hand in the dark - you hadn't realised as he'd led you in but there were no lights on in the small apartment on at all, as far as you could tell.

“What? Spencer-”

“You'll like it, I promise, you just have to trust me.” You relaxed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you with him into his living space. His hand was warm as it settled against the small on your back, and his chest was surprisingly broad and firm as you brought up your hands to steady yourself against him.

“Okay, now close your eyes.”

“The apartment is pitch black. Why am I closing my eyes?” You giggled a little, surprised that your whole body felt so light and calm now, when it had felt so terrible only half an hour before.

“Trust me,” he said, and you did. Truth be told, your eyes were already shut before the words had even left his mouth.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

He must have flipped a light switch the second you opened your eyes because your vision was blurred by the dazzling light when you did.

Blinking through the adjustment, you started making out shapes and couldn't stop the small tears that pricked the corners of your eyes.

He hadn't just invited you around for a movie night - he'd built a fort. Held up by a few chairs and piles of books, he'd managed to prop up at least three layers of blanket to surround the most comfortable looking floor you'd ever seen.

You didn't even know he owned this many pillows, but when he tugged your hand down as he began to move into the fort, you didn't need to care.

Not with his fingers gently laced with yours and the fairy lights he'd surrounded everything with, giving his skin a golden glow. You didn't need any explanation. You just needed him to hold you.

“Spencer this is beautiful,” you whispered, sound dampened by the lump in your throat that you tried to swallow, to no relief. “This must've taken so much time. How did you even-”

“PhD in Engineering. I don't get much use out of it these days, but it certainly comes in handy.”

You couldn't help the laugh that burst from you, the tears finally flowing as tears of joy.

“Spencer, what is all this for?”

“It's just because. You looked like you had a hard day, and I enjoy spending time with you.”

They weren't the most romantic words in the world. They probably didn't come close to some quotes he could recite as easily as breathing. But they hit you hard and fast.

You knew you were in love with Spencer Reid long before this moment, but there was no holding back the flood after hearing the sincerity in his voice.

You slowly stretched your neck up and pressed your lips against his. It was fleeting, a small moment that if this didn't pan out, you could brush off as a friendly show of appreciation.

You pulled away to gauge his reaction, but you didn't get to. His hand on your neck had pulled you back to him for another slow, but deep kiss, and it was as if your entire body was on fire in those sheets.

You weren't sure how long you spent breathing each other in, exploring each others lips softly. You just knew you were growing desperate for more. You didn't notice that you'd climbed into his lap until your eagerness knocked him onto his back, forcing you apart.

Your chest lay atop his as you both gasped for air, legs tangled, eyes locked as both of you feared talking first.

After almost too long without anything said or done, Spencer chose silence again, flipping your positions so you were the one on your back on the pillows as he hovered over you, lips meeting yours again.

This time, you made the conscious decision to wrap your legs up around his waist, hand tangling in his hair as you smiled and giggled against his kisses, so obliviously happy to be there with him.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses, not even hesitating for a second to contemplate whether he felt the same.

“I love you more,” he said as if it were a competition where you both won in the end.

You became more talkative after that, responding to every touch, every kiss with praise and a confession, a moan as his fingers pushed under your shirt, a shaky breath as they unbuttoned your pants.

“Fuck, Spencer, please touch me more,” you begged as his hand toyed with your nipple, having discarded your shirt and bra quickly after receiving permission to do so.

“I will. I want to know all of you,” his voice was strong even in a whisper, as he dropped his head to your other nipple to begin suckling and teasing you.

You always thought his hair would be soft, had been tempted on multiple occasions to tuck a strand behind his ear, or just run a hand through it, and now you held it firm, pushing him further into your chest as you arched into his mouth.

“I want to feel m-more of you, Spencer.”

He raised his gaze to you as he let go of your nipple with a pop and quietly complied with your will. Trailing his head lower, he kissed across the expanse of your stomach, biting and sucking here and there to leave a path of markings in his wake before arriving right where he wanted to be.

He made quick work of your pants and panties both, surprised that a man who never failed to bump into things in his own living space could be so graceful when it came to divesting you of your clothing.

You couldn't ponder for too long as he dived between your legs, spreading you open like a book he needed to read and memorise. His to guess hit your clit quickly, and a few twitches and moans here and there showed him how you liked it, where you needed him and his tongue.

You again got to grasp his hair pulling him further into your wet cunt as you chased your high, needing so desperately to ride out an orgasm against his face.

When his two fingers stretched you open, you practically drowned him, thighs clamping shut as your brain emptied itself of stress.

You calmed down and watched him come up for air, fingers still slowly and gently pumping inside of you, reminding you that this wasn't over.

“You taste sweet.”

“I know how much you like sweet things.” Your juices glistened on his lips and chin, a few drops running down his neck as you stared at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

“Spencer, please, fuck-” his fingers picked up speed every time you tried again.

“Spencer, fuck me, please just fuc-”

“As you wish, Y/N.”

He didn't bother removing his own clothing, though you desperately wanted to see his entire length and explore him just as he had with you.

But after cumming on his face already, you decided you'd let him go with whatever he wanted.

Shifting up behind you as you laid there, he gently rolled your body onto its side as he pulled your back towards him, giving him better access to your cunt as you arched into him again.

He sank in slowly, almost as if he was scared to break you, but didn't stop until he was almost fully inside of you, practically sheathed.

He adjusted his hold on you, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck.

With deep, slow strokes, he made love to you. You weren't sure if it was the fairy lights, or if it was just that good, but you saw stars, saw them burnt into your eyes, watched them every time the pleasure felt too good and your eyes rolled back into your head.

The second orgasm came slower than the first, but it was just as hot.

“Y/N, look at me - you're so beautiful, I want to watch you cum.”

“Spencer, love- I love you, I love you, fuck, oh my god, I love you so much.” You reached for his lips but he pressed his forehead against yours as he whispered in your ear a final time: “cum for me now.”

Your body wasn't one for taking your queues, but it responded to him as if he'd been the missing part you'd missed this entire time.

Your cunt tightened around him, milking his cock as he moaned and released seconds after you did.

You lay tangled in those blankets and pillows for hours after, and you weren't afraid or lonely anymore.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible.

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts.

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential.

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer?

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord?

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other.

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call.

“Hello?” you ask.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world.

“Yeah, hi. You okay?”

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.”

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?”

“Do you want to get takeout?”

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.”

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.”

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises.

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight?

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger.

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in.

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear.

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.”

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.”

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.”

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.”

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position.

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.”

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly.

“I’m trying to.”

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.”

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.”

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer and stripper!reader

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cuthechicane · 2 months ago

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Full paywalled version of Lando's interview with The Race

Lando Norris recently sat down with The Race's Scott Mitchell-Malm for an exclusive in-depth interview about his 2024 Formula 1 title bid, taking on Max Verstappen and how fans perceive him.

You can read Scott's take on how Lando presented himself on The Race website today, but here's their conversation in full:

The Race: How do you look back on the year so far? Purely from a numbers point of view, you'd surely have taken that at the start of the year. But in terms of how it's played out, is there any kind of sense that there was a bit more on the table, missed opportunities?

Lando Norris: Err…for sure. I think that's quite obvious. Not as many as people think. And I think people in general think it's been a lot worse than what it's been. I think a lot of people think we've been a lot quicker than we have been. So I'm sure a lot of people will disagree with it. But I think those times, it’s a compliment that people think that, because it shows how far we've come. And I'm proud that in those days, whether Singapore or Zandvoort, I've still been the one that's there and making the most of those opportunities when we have a car that's quick enough.

But there's clearly ones that we've definitely let things go away, which is Silverstone, Canada-ish – I wouldn't say completely. Maybe one or two others. But I think the other ones are the ones that people want to believe were bad for different reasons. Whether it was my starts, and those days when the starts have been ‘bad’ that everyone says, I've generally still been in the top three, four, five of starts. Even on those days. If you look at Barcelona, when I had a 'bad' start everyone says, the best starter in that race was Max. And I think I was like the third or fourth third best starter on the grid. It's just I happened to be next to the guy who got the best start.

The Race: Who wasn't the guy who ended up leading into Turn 1 anyway...

LN: He was the guy who had the seventh or eighth best start! The other one I’d say was a bit more unlucky was Budapest, where my initial start was very good, a tiny, tiny bit too much wheelspin and a downgraded upshift, and that kind of cost me that. So I think it's been better than people have thought. There's definitely been some missed opportunities, that's a fact. But I'm very happy with my whole season. I still feel like I've got a lot out of it. Things have not just gone to plan. Even if you go back to Austria and things like that, a race that I could have been first or second, whichever way around you want to look at it, I ended up with zero points. There's been certain races which have gone away from us.

The fact that we're still there fighting, I'm pretty happy with the whole season that I had, because it's clear when things do go right, how amazing that they can be. It's been still a big learning year, even though it's my sixth year and all of this nonsense, I still have to learn how to drive the car in a better way, because I still don't understand it at times. How we have to drive our car has changed a good amount, and I still have to adapt to that. Some days it doesn't suit me, some days it does. So I think it's still been a very good year, and from the outside, I understand why people think it hasn't been. And I completely almost agree with it! But once you know reasons why, of different things, I'm still pretty proud of the season it's been so far.

The Race: There's a difference between how you imagine it being when you get a car that's quick enough to fight every weekend, and then obviously what it's really like. You've learned some things the hard way, so what's that actually been like?

LN: It's been good for me. Whether I'm racing the likes of Lewis a bit more, or Max is probably the best example of all of them...Charles, Carlos, George, to be honest, all the drivers who are up the front because they deserve to be. Thing is suddenly, when I'm racing them, I'm fighting them for a win. So not coming out and doing a perfect job against these drivers, mainly Max in this case, means I win a race or I don't win a race, and therefore it hurts a bit more and it feels like there's a bigger effect to it all.

There's more criticism or praise, whichever way around. You win, suddenly you have a lot more praise. You do one mistake, you suddenly have a lot more criticism. But I think both are good things, because people either want you to do well or they want to stand out because they want to be someone that criticises you even more. Both are compliments in ways, and I've enjoyed both of them.

But I've paid the price, more so in terms of a championship point of view, when I’ve not done things to the correct level. And I think there's so many things that have been great, and have been completely up to the standard that it needs to be. A couple of things have not been. And I paid the price for those situations, because I'm going up against, whether it's Red Bull or Mercedes or Ferrari, on top of being strong teams, great drivers. You get punished more at the top when things don't go right than you do when you're more midfield.

The Race: There's a quote from a few years ago about Lewis Hamilton only having to beat his team-mate, in the context of a dominant team. That's exactly not the situation that you've had this year. But in terms of execution, finding out how hard it is to make sure that every single qualifying session, every start, every judgment in the race with the team – what's that been like? Because I can imagine that idea that 'once I get a car that's quick enough, I'll do it'.

LN: First of all, I would never think that! For anyone who knows me, that's definitely not how I think. But I would say it's as tough as I've imagined because so many things can still easily go against you, even when you have the best car. Make one mistake in a Q3 lap, you're not on pole when you should have been. You don't have a perfect start when the guy who starts P2 does a perfect start, you’re P2 when you shouldn't have been.

There's been a couple when we were so dominant – like Zandvoort – it doesn't matter if you made the mistakes at the beginning. You can come back through and you can still dominate and easily win a race. But for the majority, when people think we've had the most dominant car ever, those positions [lost] have just been costly positions. I’ve been on pole by three thousandths or five thousandths or two hundredths, and those positions are positions that just stay for the rest of the race.

But I've always known that – it’s always just the harsh reality of when you're there, and actually you're living that situation, it’s tough to then always be positive for the next race and things like that, and know when things are going to get better. It's been a learning point, still for me, but even for the whole team, whether it's mechanics, because they feel a bit more pressure when we're leading a race compared to when we compared to when we were 10th, or the engineers because the last pole was split by three thousandths, or one hundredth of a second. Everyone wants to play a part in that, but also feels the pressure of it, including me. I think everyone's dealt with it very well.

The Race: We've seen with various drivers, whenever there's a clash with a popular driver, someone ends up getting pelted on social media. But I don't think I've seen a driver with such a negative narrative against them as I’ve seen with you this year...

LN: Yeah, I don’t know why.

The Race: You’ve noticed it as well. How do you feel about that?

LN: I find it…I find it's a little bit weird, because I read all those things. I wouldn't say I'm affected by them, but I do think of them. Do I think it affects me negatively? No. Because I've actually been used to doing that for a while. I've learned how to read things and choose what I want to affect me and almost help me be better or choose what I just want to let slip away, and I just read it for the fact of reading.

Certain things I’d say I don't understand how people have gotten that perception. And that's when I always just have to come back to the people who know me, know that this isn't the case. And I'm very happy just knowing that as a fact. There’s certain things when I'm like, people think my ego is too big or something, it couldn't be further from the truth - especially when I'm driving. Maybe sometimes I choose wrong words or something, and people somehow use that against me.

But I think there's more and more people in the world just either don't want to listen to the truth and sometimes I think when I say the truth or facts, people just don't want to agree with them, or they want to disagree and kind of prove me wrong. But I find it odd as I feel like I haven't changed. Maybe I have, in certain things. Definitely some things have changed. I definitely don't go around and joke and laugh as much as I used to, and I think people loved that and maybe don't like it as much now I don't do such a thing. But I’ve definitely noticed it, for whatever reason.

The Race: It's stuff as a driver, not just you as a person. You mentioned the idea you’ve got a dominant car stuff but it’s also your championship credentials and stuff like that. Maybe some people just want to just stick the knife sometimes, in a way that I personally don’t understand.

LN: Neither do I, but it's why like I always say, it doesn't affect me. I see it still as if I know I said something or I've done something wrong, I accept it. I've always been honest with when I've done a good job and done a bad job. So when I know I've done something wrong, or someone tells me I've done something wrong, I'll always accept it and acknowledge that in the right way. But when I know for a fact I haven't, and people kind of make things of it or turn it into something where I have, there’s some kind of stuff I don't understand. Especially the amount of negative stuff I get nowadays, I almost want to say for no reason.

It puzzles me a little bit. Doesn't affect me in a good way or a bad way. People can have their own opinions. And I'm all up for people having their own opinions and supporting different drivers and not supporting me – I'm very happy about that. But turning things that are not true into what they think are facts is probably stuff that I don't understand as much. And it's confused me a little bit, but I don't think it affects me in a bad way. I do think of it because I'm an overthinker, and I think of all of those things, so I'll question myself about all of it. But I wouldn't say it affects how I go out and drive the next day all of a sudden, or anything like that, which is the main thing.

I think it's turned into being a bit of a part of… I don’t have to read any of it, you know? So I can also not have social media, but I enjoy it still. It'll still affect me on days, but it's not like it affects how I go racing or anything else, so I don't mind. I just don't like when people have the wrong opinion about me. Because I don't mind people having different opinions, but stating incorrect things is probably the thing that I don't understand, and probably the thing that gets to me the most. But it doesn't affect my day to day life at all. And I'm very happy with the people I have around me, my group.

They're the people who are being more honest with me about when I'm doing well or when I'm not, or whether I'm being a dick, and when I'm not. I prefer people to tell me that, than not to tell me that. The reason I really don't care about what people say so much is because I know the people who actually most know me best and are most truthful about everything are just the people I have around me, and I’ll listen to them more than I'll ever listen to people on the outside.

The Race: One final thing as we sort of got side-tracked there: 18 months or so ago I interviewed you in Australia which basically turned into an opportunity to justify your new contract, because the team was in a bad place and there was a lot of noise. You always stuck to your guns. How vindicated do you feel by this season, and how excited are you for next year, because both titles have got to be the aim?

LN: That's very clear. We all as a team know that next year is the year, probably the first one since I've been in Formula 1, where I can go next year ‘We are challenging for the title’. And we can say that now already. We've never been able to do it in the past. I'm very happy that I've stuck with the team that I believed in even when a lot of people didn't. I'm very happy that I just had that belief in the team. But also just for all of that to actually come true even when it was hard to believe at times. When we could take kind of two steps forward and then step back, and then catch up and then drop back.

There were times when I did question it for sure, on what's the best for my future and what do I want to do and those kinds of things. But for me to always return to the belief that the team around me, whether it was Andreas [Seidl] a few years ago when we took a step forward, for sure – but then Andrea [Stella], for me, has been the key to everything. And the fact we've been able to go from where we were to beating Red Bull, when not even 12 months ago they had the most dominant season...the fact that we're now beating them, we've been beating them almost since Miami-ish, and we've been on par with them since Miami, that’s an incredible achievement.

I'm very happy that I've been part of it all. I'm happy that I stuck through the harder times when I easily could have picked an easier route out of it, could have gone to different teams and done all this other stuff. I feel like I've rewarded myself nicely for having the belief in the team, and I think the team understands that too - the journey that we've been on together - and I think they appreciate that, which probably makes me the happiest out of all of it.

#for archival reasons #ln04 #lando norris #you want a piece of me

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kiss-inthekitchen · 9 months ago

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favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM.

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable.

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows.

And then you give up.

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him.

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy.

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.”

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep?”

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?”

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart.

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?”

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.”

“That’s nice.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.”

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound.

“What did you call me for then?”

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.”

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?”

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?”

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds drabble #my fics #couldn't find a cuter pic of spencer on a phone so its payphone image u have to suspend ur disbelief

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popcat69 · 1 year ago

Text

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

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pinkiemachine · 2 months ago

Text

More BatFamily X Meet the Robinsons (I don’t have time to draw this whole thing)

Tim: What’s your name, fruit-head?

Jon: Well, Jon, but—

Tim: Jon, huh? Well, say, Jon, you haven’t seen a spleen around here have ya?

Jon: A spleen?!

Tim: Yeah, my spleen! :) Been digging holes all day. Can’t find it anywhere.

Jon: Alright, look—I need to get back to the garage. Damian left me down there, and I wasn’t suppose to leave, and then this monster attacked me on the porch and—

Tim: Monster? There’s no monster on the porch you ninny! XD

Jon: Listen to me—

Tim: Of course, I also didn’t think there was a Starro living on my arm, and—whoop! *lifts arm to reveal Jarro* Looky there! Hope he ain’t got rabies!

Jon: Dude—I need to get to the garage!

Tim: Oh, sure, I’ll get you there in a jiffy. I know a shortcut!

——————————————————————————————

*opens secret entrance to the living room*

Tim: Welcome to the garage! … … … Well, I’m completely lost.

Jon: …

Artemis: Hello, Tim!

Tim: Hey, Artemis! Jon and I are looking for the garage!

Dusan: We have a garage?

Tim: Apparently so. :)

*and maybe Dusan and Artemis have a duel or something, idk*

——————————————————————————————

*Damian arrives back in the garage*

Damian: Alright, Jon. I’ve got the—*the garage is empty* …Jon?

——————————————————————————————

*Tim and Jon walk past Jason who’s beating the snot out of a punching bag and screaming*

Tim: That’s Jason. He’s pretty chill.

Jon: …

——————————————————————————————

*I don’t know how to translate Nyssa into Art’s bit*

——————————————————————————————

*Tim and Jon on the roof*

Tim: Well what are we doing up here?

Jon: Looking for the garage…

Tim: Oh yeah!

——————————————————————————————

*in another room of the house*

Mar’i: Jake! You stop hogging the trapeze or I’m telling mom!

Jake: Oh, lighten up, sis!

Mar’i: Jake, I mean it!

Dick: Children, please! Your mother is trying to take a nap—

Starfire: What is all the yelling out here?!

Jake: She started it!

Mar’i: He started it!

Starfire: I don’t wanna hear any more!

Dick: Now, sweetie—

Starfire: Don’t you sweetie me! I’m going for a drive.

*leaves and peels out*

Tim: That��s strange. She usually takes the Harley.

Jon: …

——————————————————————————————

Tim: Ooh, I think my girlfriend Steph is baking cookies!

*opens door to disco room, and Steph is jamming out*

Tim: Bake them cookies, Steph!

——————————————————————————————

*looking at Ace*

Jon: Why is your dog wearing glasses?

Tim: Oh, because his insurance won’t pay for contacts.

ba dum tss!

——————————————————————————————

Tim: That’s Duke, and that’s Cassandra.

*both wave “hi”*

*suddenly, Goliath appears!*

Tim: Oh look, there’s—

Jon: Ah! That’s the monster!

Tim: Oh no, Jon, this is just Goliath, one of Damian’s pets! And this is our butler, Alfred.

*Alfred has Goliath on a leash*

Alfred: Pleased to meet you.

Jon: Y-you too.

Tim: Hey, Alfie, any idea how to get to the garage?

Alfred: Have you tried Miss Kyle?

Tim: Well, that’s true, we didn’t ask her yet.

Jon: Who’s that?

Tim: Damian’s step-mom, Selina. I think you’ll like her :)

*opens door to Selina’s pet sanctuary*

Selina: Hey guys!

*there’s probably a bunch of cool creatures in there, like magical ones, alien ones, take your pick*

——————————————————————————————

ANYWAY, I’d write that they found Tim’s spleen, but I don’t think anyone wants to read that XD

Original Post for more context 👇

#dc #dc comics #batman #bat family #batfam #bat brothers #funny #meet the robinsons #disney #meet the waynes

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storiesforallfandoms · 11 months ago

Text

junker ~ beck oliver;victorious

word count: 2011

request?: no

description: after her car breaks down in front of the dreamy boy’s house, he helps her to fix it

pairing: beck oliver x female!reader

warnings: swearing, one mention of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

“No,” you said to yourself as your car began to slow. “No, no, no!”

You hit your steering wheel in frustration as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road.

This wasn’t the first time you had encountered issues with your shitty excuse for a car. It was definitely because the car was older than your parents. It was a miracle it even started in the first place, which, to be fair, it didn’t most of the time. You had no idea what your parents were thinking in buying you this hunk of junk to be your first car. They didn’t have to buy you a brand new sports car or anything, but they could’ve gotten you something from this decade at least.

You got out o the car to inspect what had happened. You opened the hood of the car and inspected inside. You couldn’t tell if anything was off because it all just looked the same to you. There was probably something, but you weren't exactly knowledgeable on cars.

You exclaimed in frustration and kicked the wheel, followed by a string of expletives as pain exploded from your toes.

“Car troubles?”

You turned to see a boy around your age stood at the end of a driveway.

“It just stopped,” you said. “I have no idea what’s wrong with it.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you realized how screwed you were. You were a few blocks away from home, so walking wasn’t necessarily off the table, but it would take you a while to get home. Not to mention you had no idea how you’d get the car back to your place, or off the road at all.

“Here, bring it into my driveway,” the boy said. “I’ll take a look at it.”

“How are we gonna get it into your driveway? It’s like...dead dead.”

He approached the car, taking a quick glance at the still open hood before reaching to close it. “Put it in neutral. I’ll push, you can steer.”

You weren’t sure if that sounded like a good idea - one person pushing a car on their own didn’t seem super doable - but you had no other choices. So, you got back into your car, waiting for him to get in place, then shifted the car into neutral. You started turning the wheel, shifting the car towards the driveway. It took a while, but eventually the two of you had managed to get the car into his driveway. You put it back in park as he came around to pop the hood again.

“I’m Beck, by the way,” he said as you got out of your car.

“(Y/N),” you responded. “Thanks for the help. I thought I was screwed.”

“Why are you driving a junker like this? It must be like, a century old.”

“My parents got it for me when I got my license. Something about wanting to get an older car as my first one until I learn responsibility, I guess?”

“So they gave you a rolling death trap?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, basically. I bet they’ll regret that now.”

Beck leaned in to get a better look at something. “When did they buy it?”

You shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I think.”

“Well, they’ll definitely regret however much money they wasted on this thing. It’s completely dead.”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

Beck stood back up. “There’s not a single thing that works in this thing now. Engine is toast, battery zapped, starting motor gone. It’s a wonder this thing ever worked in the first place.”

You let out a long groan. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse. What were you supposed to do now without a car? You couldn’t go back to relying on your parents to drive you everywhere, and you certainly were not about to start taking the bus to school again.

“Do you have a phone?” Beck asked.

“It’s dead,” you said. “I was on my way home anyways, I thought I’d be fine.”

“Listen, mine is in my RV. You can use it to call your parents if you want.”

You eyed the silver RV in the yard. “You live in there? When there’s...a house?”

He chuckled. “I prefer to be on my own. The RV was the only compromise my parents would come to. If you’d rather not come in, I understand. I can bring my phone out instead if it would make you more comfortable.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. It’s starting to get dark, so it’s probably best if I wait inside instead of out here while it gets cold.”

Beck nodded for you to follow him into his trailer. It was a decent size, big enough for one person living there. It was also evident that a teenage boy lived there given the mess. Beck must’ve noticed, too, because he quickly started picking up dirty clothes and laundry from the floor, mumbling something about ignoring the mess. You quietly giggled to yourself.

Beck passed you his phone. You sat down on his couch and dialed your mom’s number first. It rang for a long time before an automated message told you she was away from the phone. You hung up and tried your dad’s number, only to have the same outcome. You rolled your eyes and hung up, handing the phone back to Beck.

“They must be busy,” you said. “God, this sucks. What am I going to do?”

Beck sat down next to you. He was close enough to you that you could feel his shoulder brushing against yours. You were suddenly very aware of your situation: alone in a trailer with a boy who was incredibly cute. A broke down car, no way to get home until your parents answered your calls. You shuffled awkwardly in your seat, looking down at your lap when looking into Beck’s eyes became too much.

“I could drive you home,” he offered. “Then, when your parents are home, you can tell them what happened and where the car is. Then they can decide if they want to come get it, or they can leave it here and I can salvage whatever parts I can from it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think there’s anything salvageable from that car?”

“Well...the tires.”

You both laughed. You knew you should be getting home, but part of you also didn’t want to leave yet. Sure, you would still see Beck again whenever your parents decided to come get the car - if they decided to come get the car - but after that you may never see him again. He wasn’t familiar to you, and you were sure you’d remember someone like Beck at your school, so that meant he went to a different school. The likeliness of you two ever crossing paths again were incredibly slim.

But you also couldn’t just invite yourself into his place to stay for a while. You were still a stranger to him, and him to you technically. And you probably should get home so you could charge your phone, just so your parents didn’t start freaking out if they tried to call you and couldn’t get through.

So, you took Beck’s offer and followed him to his car. It was definitely a lot nicer than your old piece of junk. You were almost embarrassed that he had to see what you were driving before. The one silver lining to this whole situation was that your parents might actually buy you a good car after all of this.

You knew it was going to be a short ride to your house, so you had to make the most of it. You looked over at Beck and asked, “So, what school do you go to?”

“Hollywood Arts,” he responded.

“Oh! So that’s why I haven’t seen you around. You’re too busy becoming a big star.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Trying to, at least. I’m not a singer like most of the people who attend that school. I’m trying to become an actor after I graduate.”

“Hey, the world needs actors. That doesn’t sound like an impossible dream to achieve.”

He shrugged. You felt like the conversation was drifting away, and you desperately wanted it to keep going.

“I do appreciate what you did for me,” you said. “Most people in LA probably would’ve driven right past me and wished me luck.”

“I couldn’t let you just stay there stranded right in front of my place,” he said. “What kind of a guy would I be if I didn’t offer the pretty girl some help?”

Your face immediately burned at his compliment. You quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see how flustered you were.

“Still, I appreciate it,” you said. “And the ride home. I probably could’ve walked, come to think of it.”

“No way. I wasn’t going to let you walk when I have a perfectly good car that could’ve driven you home.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

He chuckled. You noticed the car slowing to a stop, and when you looked up you saw that you were in front of your house. You almost deflated with disappointment. Your time with Beck was finally, and unfortunately, coming to an end. There was no way you’d be able to see him again, you were sure of that. It was already pretty clear the both of you wouldn’t be running into each other at schooling events, unless you managed to make it out to a performance at Hollywood Arts that Beck just so happened to be starring in.

“This is me,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice.

“So it is,” Beck said with a nod.

You looked down at your lap, trying to stall as much as possible. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I can repay you for all of this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I wanted to? I mean, surely there’s something else I could do or give you as a way of saying thanks. Something more than that lump of junk that’s still sat in your driveway.”

He made a face. “No, that’s a terrible thank you gift actually.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying I want to give you an actual thank you gift.”

He thought for a moment and you waited patiently for his answer. Finally, he looked back at you and said, “There is something you could give me.”

“What is it?”

“Your number.”

He was holding his phone out to you. You looked from his phone up to his face. You were almost sure this wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating that this was happening. But the longer it took for you to take Beck’s phone and put your number in it, the more his face was starting to show worry. As if you were about to turn him down.

“Yes!” you finally blurted. “I mean...yeah. Yeah, I can...I can do that.”

He seemed amused by your flusteredness. You quickly took his phone and typed in your name and number before handing it back to him.

“You better get your phone charged,” he said. “Otherwise, how am I supposed to try and plan a date with you?”

Oh, he smooth.

You wanted to say something back that was equally as smooth, but you were at a loss for words. Instead, you just nodded your head for a long time, like a crazy person, before finally saying goodbye for real and getting out of his car. You could feel him watching you as you walked up to your front door and let yourself in. He didn’t leave until the door closed behind you, and even then he waited for you to lock it and turn on the light over the door.

Once you were alone, you leaned back against the door and you couldn’t stop the wide smile that broke out across your face.

Okay, at least there were two silver linings to that stupid thing breaking down.

#beck oliver #beck oliver imagine #beck oliver x reader #avan jogia #avan jogia imagine #avan jogia x reader #victorious #victorious imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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cherrysolo · 11 days ago

Note

omg since you`re doing minifics inspired on taylor's songs, can u do you belong with me? its my favorite song <3

you belong with me

omg I love this idea and this song <3 it’s such a classic taylor song that reminds me of my childhood :( this is going to be sooo fluffy and predictable but idc these are fun to write!

warnings: none! just fluff

you and luigi were best friends ever since childhood, now in college together. he was always your person, he knew you better than anyone else. as you had gotten older, you’d began to realize you had feelings to be more than just friends. you had always kept your feeling to yourself though, never expecting him to reciprocate.

“You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night

I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like”

“baby, I can’t right now I’m studying with y/n,” he mumbles into his phone one late february night. you try not to listen to his conversations with his girlfriend but it doesn’t help that she’s blowing up his phone.

“you know that y/n and I are friends, nothing more. we’re just studying that’s all,” he quickly glances to you, you return a small smile.

he sighs as he hangs up the phone, you can feel the tension in the air.

“you can go be with her lu, you know, if she needs you or something,” you begin packing up your things to leave,

“no, I’d prefer to be with you instead,” and his smile is what makes you stay. moments like these made you wonder if he’d want you in that way,

“ ‘Cause she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts

She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers

Dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time”

a couple weeks later, while sitting at a cafe on campus studying, you see luigi and his girlfriend walk by. he looks amazing, he’s laughing, his skin is glowing, and of course she was on his arm. she wore heeled boots, a navy knit sweater, a mini black skirt, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back. she was the leader of the alpha phi sorority, how could she have anything in common with lu? you sat there with envy, deep down you knew that you knew him better than anyone else, he was indeed your best friend. seeing her laugh at his jokes, ones that you had probably heard before. instead of going back to studying, you sat there daydreaming 'bout the day when he wake up and find that what he’s looking for has been here the whole time.

“Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh

When you know you're 'bout to cry

I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it's with me”

you heard erratic knocking at your door,

“y/n, open up, it’s lu,” you unlock the door and see him standing there, his eyes bloodshot red.

“lu, what happened? are you okay?” he rushes in for a hug, gripping onto your sweater and breathing in your scent, it’s so comforting to him. “she cheated on me,” he sniffles.

“I caught her with another frat member,” he releases from your arms.

“I’m so sorry lu,” you try to console him before he interrupts you,

“is it weird I’m kind of relieved? I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he chuckles, which his confession is full of truth because you had only seen him cry twice before.

you both sit down on your bed, placing your hand on his forearm, rubbing back and forth.

“do you think love her?” you blurt out. luigi’s eyes meet yours, thinking for a moment.

“I don’t even think I liked her half the time,” which makes you chuckle.

“oh cmon, she is the definition of perfect though,” which you can confess, because she is everything you aren’t. luigi places his hand where yours lies upon his arm still, he slightly squeezes it. “well now I can spend more time with you, anyways could you hug me again? I think I need it,” he looks at you with pleading eyes. oh you were so far gone.

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you

Been here all along, so why can't you see?

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me, you belong with me”

by the time spring formal comes around, your feelings have expanded times a thousand. you and luigi had been spending every waking moment together, your friendship had reached new heights. tonight you would be luigi’s date to upenn’s spring formal, even though you were technically only going as friends, you had never been so nervous.

you weren’t one for dressing up but for this night you went all out, a short navy blue silk slip dress with a twist front, and a pair of white kitten heels with a bow. you’d even spent hours on your hair, wanting to look your best. finalizing your look with lip gloss, you heard a knock at your door. you open your door and see luigi standing there, your breath got caught in your throat looking at him, he looked perfect. dressed up in a full suit and tie, with his tie colour matching your dress. you were both looking at each other up and down, not even sure what to say. you’d never seen him this silent.

“let me just grab my purse, you look great by the way,” trying breaking the awkward tension, you wanted this night to go perfectly.

as the night progresses, you grow more urgent to confess your feelings to luigi. a battle in your mind that you wish you weren’t having on a night like this, but his hand grazing your lower back and his wandering eyes were making you a lost cause. was ruining a friendship worth coming clean with your feelings?

you were both tipsy and walking back to luigi’s dorm, finally alone together. your heart starts to beat faster than it ever has before, maybe it was just the tequila. “lu, i have something to tell you, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” you blurt out, almost not understanding what you were doing. you stop in your tracks and he looks back at you, up and down.

“can you picture it? you and I?” his eyebrow furrows, eyes dotting between yours and your lips. “i-i guess, but you liked […]” you step back almost in shock that he is imagining the same thing as you.

“I don’t like […], she’s not you. I’ve known you since… forever. you’re basically home to me, I can’t imagine being with anyone else,” he steps forward and pushes back a piece of hair behind your ear. “but wouldn’t us being together ruin our friendship?”

“we can’t be friends anymore though, I’ll always see you as something else. I only want you,” he confesses, “we should try this, don’t you think?” he steps closer placing a hand to your cheek, leaning in, you nod up and down to give him permission, because you’re far too nauseous to speak. his lips softy melting into yours, then pulling back to look at you. you both quickly go back in for another passionate kiss, his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you open up for him. you both moan into each others mouths then pull apart, realizing you are both still outside. you both start laughing, luigi pulls you to his side and you begin walking. “you know, my family has been placing bets on when we would start dating,” he chuckles. “what? no they didn’t,”

“actually they starting saying that in high school we would,”you walk back to luigis dorm wrapped around each other. you two always belonged together.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x yn #free luigi #the adjuster #ceo shooting #deny defend depose #fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #luigi nicholas mangione

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handlemehyuck · 11 days ago

Text

LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP for boyfriend dreamies

♡a voicemail for mark˚ ⋆。

“i keep listening to songs i haven’t heard in forever, not since i was a kid or teenager, and they transport me back to that time. suddenly, i’m wearing pink converse and jean shorts and the t-shirt from my summer play. it’s saturday, and i’m sitting on the stairs waiting for my friend to arrive, sunlight all over the walls. we wanted to have a sleepover, but there’s church in the morning, so she’ll stay as late as she can, probably until we’re dozing off on the couch watching one of the dvds she brought. naturally, i have to think about you because music wraps around your life in a way it never will for me. we’ve probably talked about this. maybe the conversation took a different shape before, but what’s a song that takes you back? what’s a time you miss and revisit through music? do you have time to think about those things? your life is go go go, and i’ve made silly wishes on eyelashes about peering into your head. i’m a reminiscer, and i know not everyone is, but you’re a creative. you’re a writer—music wraps around your life in a special way, so the idea of nostalgia visiting rarely seems unrealistic? but i guess i can’t know until you tell me. i see it often. i see it when i’m out without my glasses. the distant view is blurry, and suddenly, there i am, riding a bike, pink converse on. what shows up in your blurry nostalgia view?”

♡a voicemail for renjun˚ ⋆。

“babyyyy, i had the best time tonight. i feel like i’m covered in stars. areum’s parents have this sprawling backyard, so we collected a bunch of blankets, packed a picnic basket, and stayed out for hours beneath the most beautiful willow tree i’ve ever seen. i wore linen pants and a bikini top—your favorite one. i had a cardigan too, just in case, but the weather was perfect. i really needed to get out of the city. i know you know that, and i wanted to call you because… hmm sometimes i feel like my life is strung together by reminders. reminders of you and other people and things i love. reminders of our beginnings and all the sweet milestones along the way. i think my love could light up all the stars, more stars than i could ever see with my own eyes, enough stars to make a path between your hometown and my own. i’ll bring you back a jar of stardust. it’ll be empty… you’ll think it’s empty. sometimes magical things are invisible, or they just glow in the dark. anyway, it’s late, like 3 am, and i’m honestly glad you didn’t answer. as badly as i want to hear your voice, you should be asleep. i hope this voicemail makes you smile in the morning. i’ll send you some pictures too. see you on sunday. MWAH kisses *giggles*.”

♡a voicemail for jeno˚ ⋆。

“i’m going to my mom’s tomorrow, and i keep thinking about the drive. i rented a car… you know all of this already, but i guess it’s just present in my mind again. i’m staring at my luggage right now, and the entire thing feels wrong. i’m sorry if this sounds horrible, but i’m so used to you leaving. i’ve gotten really good at that. i’m good at being alone. i made sure i love my apartment and feel at home in it when you’re away because i’d fully unravel or find myself at your place more often than i already am if didn’t love it… stopping by to water all of those plants you don’t actually have. anyway, yeah… it just feels weird. i feel like you should be coming. i keep thinking about driving together: which one of us would pump the gas? who would run inside for snacks? what would we talk about in the car? would you drive halfway or drive all the way because you know i’d rather not if the option’s available to me? i know i’ll be fine. i’ve driven long ways on my own before, but it’ll be weird. i’ll be in a guest room. i don’t know what color the comforter is. i don’t know if i’ll like the sheets. my mom knows i’m weird and particular, but will she remember that when she’s fluffing up the pillows? what will i do when i can’t sleep? i love my mom. i haven’t seen her in months, but i close my eyes and daydream about being with you. i yearn for you in the stickiest of ways. it probably falls off of me too and hangs thickly in the air, gets stuck to the bottom of people’s shoes. i’d apologize if i knew, but i’m all caught up on you you you... i’m saying all of this, but i know this trip will be good for me. i know i’m not dependent on you, but last year was one of your busiest yet. and pride isn’t a question—i’ll spend my entire life being proud of you, but i can’t pretend there weren’t nights when the missing was so palpable i couldn’t sleep, so i read or baked bread or watched my toes wrinkle in the bath. it would be good for me to sleep at my mom’s, wake up to a new view, share breakfast, and simple conversation. i know i need the rest. i know everything will be fine.”

♡a voicemail for haechan˚ ⋆。

“if you told me the grass and the trees and the streets are all white, i would believe you. it’s like a blizzard out there. i’ve never seen so much white in my entire life. honestly, it’s kind of freaking me out, making me feel claustrophobic. i look up at the sky, back down again, and nothing changes, apart from the shapes and the saving grace of traffic lights—at least their colors are still clear. could we get by with just green, red and yellow for the rest of our lives?… some food for thought. anyway, it’s snowing *laughs*. i’m on my… third? tea after a few hot chocolates as well. no food so far today, just warm drinks. last time it snowed, you made kimchi jjigae and we ate in front of the window. do you remember that? we brought over my coffee table and the pot, bowls, and rice… i stopped listening to your story, all zeroed in on a snowflake. i didn’t look away until you kissed my neck. that’s quite a dangerous superpower: you have me at will with kisses, but i trust you with my weakest point... it wouldn’t be the same if i make kimchi jjigae and eat in front of the window without you. i should sit at the dining room table or maybe even the kitchen island—give myself a break from all the white. hopefully, i can still see you tomorrow. maybe you can kiss my neck again and tend to a few of my other weaker points… i love you.”

♡a voicemail for jaemin˚ ⋆。

“i want you to come over right now, and i know that you can’t. i also know that i might not see you for a couple of days, but i want to do nothing with you. i wish it didn’t feel silly… or embarrassing to want. i don’t know why wanting is so uncomfortable for me to share, especially because i’ve wanted loudly with you already, over and over again… but i guess i just wanted you to know. i painted my nails and went to the grocery store and chopped bell peppers because if they’re already prepped i know i’ll be more likely to eat them. i hung up some pictures in my room, and i kept thinking about you when i’d step back to make sure each one was straight. you would’ve done that part for me. i want to do everything together, and i don’t want you to feel bad because we can’t. that’s not why i’m leaving you this. i just know how happy it makes me feel when you express your want for me, in small ways, in spontaneous ways, in sexy ways… in uncomfortable ways, when you just want to be held, when you just need me to listen… it never ends with you. it never ends with me. we’re these entities that constantly move together and around each other, and i know i can get where i need to go without you, but it’s so much more fun when you’re here, and we’re in motion together. i’m making tea, and i think i’m going to drink it on the balcony. i’ll have to put socks on and a coat, but i want to hear the traffic noise and look down at people by themselves or in groups walking around and existing. i was existing for a long time. i felt really disconnected from living, but i knew i wanted to—to feel like i was living again. i just wasn’t quite sure how to get back to that place, but i was starting to figure it out when we met. on our first date, i felt like i struck gold. it was in your smile and your laughter, and this feeling that embraced me because all of a sudden i wasn’t nervous. i had only said your name out loud three times, but it felt so comfortable in my mouth. i remember leaving and whispering it to myself over and over again, and i couldn’t help but hope it would become a name i’d say for the rest of my life. so i’m going to drink my tea and enjoy this beautiful city we live in. i’m going to fold laundry and plan dinner. i’m going to think of you and get excited about the next night we fall asleep together.”

♡a voicemail for chenle˚ ⋆。

“i made it through the list of movies you left me. that sticky note is cute by the way. i like the border of little bears wearing scarves. where’d you get it? i almost threw it out on accident yesterday when i was cleaning my kitchen. now it’s living on my fridge. i taped it down on every side so my cleaning, autopilot fingers can’t attempt a second disposal… when you get this, i’d love some more movies. i’d ask for a horror film, but the idea of watching anything scary without you sounds worse than unclogging the shower drain or some other unpleasant household chore. oh! i went out this morning with chaewon, and she’s dating someone new. i started talking about hosting a dinner before i could really think it through. would you host another one with me? no pressure. chaewon told me not to even mention it to you, something about bad luck… she needs to wait a couple months before bringing them around all of our friends—has to pass 60 days of dating. there’s something romantic about a dinner party to me, though. maybe it’s just the wholesome quality time with my favorite people and knowing you’re only a look away. i don’t know if you remember, but you would always trail your fingertip up and down the back of my arm and kiss my cheek every time you got up, never wanting to interrupt the conversation but noticing the glasses in need of more wine. *groan* everything you do turns me on… ridiculous. do you even have a clue? no, i know you do. *sigh* g’night sunshine.”

♡a voicemail for jisung˚ ⋆。

“that fight was gross. i had to shower as soon as i got home, and the clothes i was wearing are already in the washing machine. are you ok? i know we tried to make it pretty again, but it felt ugly even at the end, and your eyes were so red. i hate seeing you cry. i love it actually… seeing your emotions, but never when it’s like that. i was so close to going to your favorite restaurant and picking us up something, but i know you need some time. but, if you listen to this, you can text me if you’re hungry, and i will go to your favorite restaurant. i can leave the food outside or just in the entryway, unless you’re crying again when i get there. then, i will take off my shoes and hug you, and i won’t stop until you at least hug me back. i’m so sorry. i don’t… most of the time i don’t feel insecure, but sometimes it comes out, and it takes this ugly shape that looks alien to me. i hope it looks alien to you too. i don’t want to be that way often enough for it to become familiar. tell me if it ever does. the idea alone makes me feel sick to my stomach. please text me at least. ok. dammit, i don’t want to hang up. i keep thinking you’ll pick up—”

#nct dream drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream blurbs #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dreams scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream reactions #nct dream fanfic #nct dream headcanons

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beat-the-morning · 4 months ago

Text

Car rapids || Hozier x reader

Kinktober: Day 3 - Quickie

prompt list

Tags: quickie, car sex, semi-public sex i guess, dom/sub undertones kinda

Summary: Things get hot while on the car with Andrew on the way to his parent’s house for dinner, unfortunately you can’t be late, so it’s time to be quick

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: idk if i did yesterday’s since im scheduling these as i finish them but i probably didn’t because i don’t like writing it. So sorry for that. Anyway hope you like this one that i wrote between 11pm and 5am but i did like it so make of that what you will. Tomorrow’s prompt is facesitting I’ll see you all there

|| 💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙 ||

Your hands were on the wheel, eyes focused on the road as you drove across the Irish countryside. Your boyfriend, Andrew, sat next to you, looking out the window while he hummed along to a song playing from the car speakers. You and Andrew had decided to go on a little weekend getaway to Galway, just the tiniest change of scenery since leaving Ireland was out of the question, given the dinner with his parents on Sunday, which you were driving to right now, being a bit over halfway there. For once and by powers unknown to you, you were on time, early even, maybe because you told Andrew that you were already running late when you told him to finish getting ready when you were actually not, something that, once he found out about when you were already in the car and moving, he had (jokingly) complained endlessly about for the first fifteen minutes of the journey before apologising with a kiss to your cheek and putting on some music.

As you continued to drive, Andrew’s eyes wandered from the passing views over to you, a tiny smile forming in his face as he looked you up and down, his hand moved to your thigh, squeezing it ever so slightly. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, trying your best to suppress a smile. “Andrew.” You warned him.

“Hm?” He hummed in question, fake innocence in his voice as he spoke. “What is it, baby?”

“Hands off,” you gently scolded him, “can’t focus on the road if you’re all over me.”

“It’s just a hand on your thigh, love, nothing more.” He smiled, his grip tightening a little.

“Last time you said that we ended up having a pregnancy scare.” You reminded him.

“You’re the one that told me to finish inside when I wasn’t wearing a condom,” he teased back, chuckling softly, “and you’re on birth control now, anyway.”

“Not my point.”

“Then what was it?”

“That it’s never ‘nothing’ with you, or with me.” You said, the last words coming out in a flustered whisper.

“So I should take my hand off your thigh?” He smirked, knowing he was slowly winning you over.

“Maybe…” you mumbled, “you can keep it there, if you want, but no higher.”

“As you wish, baby.” He nodded, leaving his hand on your thigh, his fingers drawing small circles on it. He went back to looking out the window as you drove, a comfortable silence falling over the both of you again, only disturbed by the soft music.

°*°*°

“I was thinking,” Andrew said, breaking the silence that had fallen over you both a little over an hour ago, his hand still on your thigh, “you practically never drive, you’re always my passenger princess, especially in longer drives.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “why do you say that?”

“Because you’re driving right now, why?” His grip tightened on your thigh again.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “you drove us on the way there and then drove everywhere while we were in Galway, thought I’d let you rest from the wheel for a bit.”

“That’s sweet of you,” he smiled, “so it’s not because you don’t like my reckless driving?”

“No, I actually really like it, it’s fun when you drive like a maniac.” You chuckled, “ and I like the things we do while you’re driving, too.” You added, a cheeky smile on your face as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Andrew smiled too, a clear idea in his eyes now that you had brought up the subject. “Yeah? You like it when I finger you while we drive through the middle of nowhere, baby?” He teased, you nodded, biting your lip as you felt his grip tightening again. “Use your words.”

“Y-yeah,” you whined softly, suppressing a moan.

“D’you want me to do it while you drive, baby?”

“Can’t.” You answered, “I get distracted easily, I could crash your car.”

“Stop the car, then,” he suggested, his voice smooth and sultry as he leaned slightly closer to you. “Let me make you feel good, pet, it won’t take long.”

“You always say that,” a whine escaped you as you feigned resistance to his advances, in reality, your eyes were already looking for a good place to stop the car. “To you ‘not taking long’ means at least forty five minutes.”

“Won’t take more than ten, fifteen at most.” He whispered, “just stop the car and get on my lap, let me feel you around me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds you make, sweetness.”

You found a spot to stop at right as he stopped speaking, and thank God you did because you had seriously considered stopping the car in the middle of the road and fucking him right then and there. You slowed down, driving to the side of the road and stopping the car as Andrew’s smile widened, he leaned closer to you as he clicked his seatbelt open, his lips finding your jaw and planting soft kisses as you clicked your own seatbelt open. You turned your head towards him, your lips finding his and immediately latching on, passionately kissing him as you moved from the driver’s seat and onto his lap, straddling him as best you could. His hands moved to your skirt, pulling it up as fast as he could, a couple curses escaped him between kisses as he struggled to get the maxi skirt out of the way. You giggled softly at every curse of his, your hands working fast on his belt and jeans, quickly undoing them and pulling them down along with his boxers just enough so his cock, already hard and with a flushed tip, could spring free from its confines, slapping against his clothed stomach and making him whine lightly.

You spat on your hand and started to gently jerk him off while he struggled with your skirt and your hips gently grinded on him, you core desperate for some attention. “I’m going to rip this thing off you, I swear to God.” He muttered under his breath in frustration, moaning softly as you moved your hand. You giggled softly. “Not funny, baby.” He scolded you.

“You know you can just lift it up, right? You don’t need to take it off completely.” You reminded him, your lips finding his neck, peppering soft kisses along it.

“But then how will I see what pretty panties you’re wearing today?” He complained, still fighting the skirt.

“You do that and we’ll be late to dinner with your parents, and I’m not going to explain to them why we're late.”

“Fine,” he conceded, lifting your skirt and caressing your ass for a couple seconds before smacking it sharply, making you whine, “and don’t bring up my parents while I’m trying to fuck you again, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled softly. Andrew moved your underwear to the side, pulling you closer and blindly positioning you above his cock. You slowly sat down on it, making both of you gasp at the feeling. You moved your hips up and down on his cock, bouncing on it as he held onto you, planting warm kisses on your neck.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re perfect, so fucking perfect.” He moaned onto your neck, starting to thrust up, meeting you halfway. His hand moved from your side to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit and flicking it quickly, pressing on it every so often, making you whine softly. Your hands moved to his hair, gripping his long curls while pure white pleasure ran through your veins like the most potent drug. You felt that all-familiar coil form in your lower abdomen, your breathing becoming ragged and whiny. “Almost there, baby? Already? You’re really sensitive today, you never get like this so fast.” He teased, each sentence finishing with a kiss to your neck.

You wanted to argue back, but when you opened your mouth to do so all that came out was a loud moan, your face heating up from slight embarrassment as Andrew chuckled. The coil in your stomach became stronger and stronger with each passing second, your legs shaking slightly, bouncing up and down on his cock was becoming increasingly difficult as you felt your orgasm coming, “Fuck! Andy!” You moaned loudly, stopping your movements out of sheer ecstasy, your legs shaking with pleasure, Andrew continued to fuck you, thrusting up into your pussy as he played with your clit. “Please! Oh my god! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease” you begged in a desperate moan, you weren’t even sure what it was you were begging for, Andrew did though, he kissed from your neck to your ear, whispering softly as he fucked you mercilessly.

“It’s okay, darling, come for me, let me feel you, baby.” He lightly bit your earlobe as you found your release, the coil in your core snapping as you moaned loudly, your hips shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. His hand moved away from your clit and to your hips as he lifted them up and down to fuck you better, overstimulating you as he chased his own release. He came not long after, his hips snapping up to yours as he filled you with his cum, soft groans escaping him while you whined from the overstimulation.

He came down from his peak, kissing your neck and face as you still tried to ground yourself. “Fifteen minutes,” he said with a smug tone.

“What?” You asked softly, still a bit out of it.

“We took fifteen minutes, told you I could be quick,” he chuckled.

“How the hell do you know that?” You mumbled into his shoulder, your post-orgasmic tiredness catching up to you.

“Car clock,” he said smugly, “it was 2:07pm when you got on my lap, and now it's 2:22pm.”

“You’re impossible,” you giggled, thinking it funny how he had made a mental note of the time just to prove he was right.

“You love it,” he smiled into your hair. “I think I’ll drive the rest of the way, you look exhausted, love.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, getting off his lap and settling onto the passenger's seat, after fixing your underwear and skirt. Andrew fixed his own clothes, adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate his height, and began driving to his parents’ house, still on time for dinner.

#hozier x reader #hozier fic #hozier smut #hozier fanfiction #hozier #mornfic #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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