#either way..i’m okay with how it turned out
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
sloaneispunk · 3 days ago
Text
“the carousel”
soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
when frontman planned the ‘mingle’ game, he knew it was set out to kill and eliminate. what he didn’t expect was how much he was willing to compromise when he had someone to lose.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part one
as the games continued, the tension between the players continued to increase. between the ‘x’s and ‘o’s laid a thick, heavy atmosphere. nobody knew who to trust, there had been far too many betrayals for a lifetime.
however, you yourself had one person that you trusted…
young-il.
young-il had approached you after the first game, saying how since you and him were alone you should stick together.
you had your share of skepticism but something drew you in each time you tried to pull away. young-il was just so charming, so charismatic and gentle with you. you had seen how angry he could be when standing up for the rights of each person individually but with you he was just so soft spoken.
when you went to sleep, he would stay by you. either on the edge of your bed keeping watch or laying down beside your headrest staying ever so close to you.
of course you protected him too, maybe not as brave as he was when doing so but you always made sure he was safe and healthy. you would give him extra food and even though he protested, you’d make him eat it anyway.
he loved that you were equally protective and loving towards him as he was to you. he felt a sense of pride whenever you would stand up for him. it made the young boy in him happy and he knew it.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part two
“players please walk in an orderly fashion towards your third game.”
you were walking beside young-il as he had his hand on your back making sure that you were always with him even though you were walking with the rest of the group.
“what game do you think we’ll play now?” you asked, looking up at him.
young-il let out a small chuckle, he loved how it didn’t even sound like you knew how dire the situation you were in was.
“i’m not sure, y/n. what are you hoping it’ll be?” he replied.
“maybe hopscotch, or jump rope.”
“maybe.”
however, when you stepped into the game room, there was a giant carousel in the middle. around it were many doors painted with different colors.
“oh, what is this? a giant carousel, how strange!” jung-bae made a remark, stepping onto the giant platform.
young-il stretched out his hand for you, briefly helping you up beside him once again, you thanked him with a smile.
“the game is ‘mingle’. a song will play as the carousel spins, once the song ends and the movement comes to a stop, a number will be called out. you must then make a team of the number and head into any room of your choice.”
“that sounds easy.” dae-ho said.
“no. it can’t be that simple, it never is.”
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part three
round one
‘round, round, round, round! let’s dance in circles!clap your hands and sing! la-la-la-la let’s have fun dancing!’
the child-like music blasted loudly as the lights started to dim. with a jerk of the platform, it started to spin.
young-il instinctively grabbed your arm, keeping you with him at all cost.
“no matter what happens, do not let go of me. you understand?” he instructed sternly as he turned to face you.
but before you could reply, the platform came to a sudden halt, causing you to stumble and grab onto young-il’s arm.
‘ten.’
then, the music abruptly stopped, a loud jarring alarm now taking its place on the speakers as the lights flashed and flickered.
“we have 6! we need 4 more!” gi-hun shouted as panic started to set in within everyone.
“we’re 4!” player 120 yelled, running towards you with 3 players behind.
“let’s go! yellow door!” young-il shouted, leading the way, his hand still grabbing onto yours.
he flung the door open and carefully led you in, making sure you were okay before going back out, holding the door for the others to enter.
as the timer hit one, he drew the door shut behind him. the lock on it clicking as he looked out.
you joined him as you stood and watched the scene unfold in front of you. it was chaos everywhere. those who were unable to find a team in time were scrambling and screaming, some even on their knees begging for the guards who were now pointing guns at them to spare them.
round two
the door clicked, unlocking itself moments later. you stepped out, met with the sight of blood and dead bodies of players around. young-il came up behind you, holding you close again. “look straight, don’t look down okay?” he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.
‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a’
you took in a deep breath as the platform started moving once more. this time everyone looked much more scared, you could see some shaking in fear while others were clearly enjoying themselves, linking arms and dancing in circles like a bunch of lunatics.
“four.”
your eyes shot to young-il. somehow even under the blinding flashes of lights, he looked just as handsome.
“you four go! me and y/n will find two more!” he shouted over the chaos.
“are you sure?!” gi-hun asked, skeptical to leave his friends.
“yes, go!”
with that, the six of you split ways. the four easily finding a room. gi-hun however was nervous. what if you couldn’t find a room in time? what if you couldn’t find more people?
“young-il, split up, i get one you get one!” you shouted, pulling back.
“no! y/n, don’t-”
but you didn’t listen. you knew that if you went together you wouldn’t be able to find two people in time.
“pink door! room twenty! i’ll meet you there!” you said and took off, running the opposite direction, leaving him no choice but to do as you asked.
you frantically looked everywhere for another person, it was hard to find someone that hasn’t already been dragged away by a team. then, you spotted a boy being kicked back by the two dancing lunatics.
you ran as fast as you could to him, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to room twenty. there young-il was already inside, holding open the door for you to enter.
as soon as your feet stepped inside, he shut the door tight behind you.
“my god, what were you thinking?! are you insane?!” he gently scolded, his head in his hands as he ruffled his hair.
“look, i’m okay!” you smiled, “and what did i tell you? it’s way faster that way.”
young-il let out a sigh of disbelief, rolling his eyes and he took his hands out of yours. just in time to save the two poor people in the same room, the door opened.
the boy you had saved mumbled a small ‘thank you’ before he took off, leaving you and young-il in the room alone.
“i’m sorry, i just wanted to help you.” you apologised.
“y/n, i was scared you weren’t going to come back.” he said, almost like a whisper. he walked over to you, pulling you into a hug.
“i’m sorry i-”
“don’t apologise, it’s okay. you’re a strong girl right? i knew you could do it.” he lightly chuckled, pulling away.
you offered him a smile in return, grabbing his hand again before leaving the room.
“there you guys are! we were worried sick!” a familiar voice said.
there, gi-hun and the team ran towards you, jung-bae engulfing young-il in a tight hug while dae-ho pulled you in for one too.
“hey, i’m a very likeable person. i do well in these games.” young-il joked, purposefully glancing at you, giving you a wink.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part four
round three
‘ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, ring-a, lets’s hold hands together, let’s have fun together’
‘three’
“how do you wanna do it?” you asked gi-hun who had a panic stricken look on his face.
“jung-bae, dae-ho and me! you, young-il and jun-hee!”
without question, young-il grabbed your arm again, dashing towards the nearest door before anyone could enter. he was so quick you almost couldn’t grab jun-hee’s hand in time.
after making sure everyone settled in safely unharmed, you immediately rushed to jun-hee’s side.
“was that too rough? did i hurt you? how’s your stomach?” you asked as she stood in the corner trying to catch her breath.
young-il watched without saying a word. he was immediately in a trance just by watching you, seeing you so gentle and kind towards people in need. it made him regret recruiting a kind soul like you into the game. he knew right then that it was either you or the game, especially once you found out exactly who he was.
round four
“how many more rounds do we have to play? i’m getting exhausted.” you said practically collapsing onto young-il as the platform stopped suddenly, not giving time for you to recover before the game started again.
“six.”
you were so exhausted you couldn’t even process everything that was happening, all you knew was that young-il was leading you by your hand straight into another room where you were met with familiar faces, the old lady’s team… but someone was missing.
1,2,3,4,5…
…player 095
“where is she?!” you asked, suddenly aware of the situation.
you could hear young-il’s voice telling you to stay in place and that he would go out and look for her but you ignored him, pulling open the door.
there you saw her on the floor, crying for help. but before you could step out, someone pushed you back into the room, knocking you back and locking the door behind him.
you felt a pair of hands immediately grab onto your stomach, catching you before you fell. young-il pulled you back, your body flush against him as the boy turned around, just as the timer hit zero and the door locked itself.
“nonono what did you do?!” player 120 shouted at him, shoving him to look out the hole. “young-mi! young-mi! no!”
“i just saved your lives! she wouldn’t have made it in time anyway!” he scoffed back.
“unnie!” young-mi cried, the pain in her voice piercing everyone’s heart.
“young-il.” you cried, turning to face away from the heartbreaking sight. you could still hear her cries as you buried your head into young-il’s chest. his arms wrapping around your body as he tried to comfort you.
then, there was a silent gunshot and the cries stopped.
for the first time, young-il felt a sense of guilt from the games. a stinging wave of sadness spread throughout his whole being.
maybe it was holding your shaking and exhausted body, or hearing your cries that made him soft again. he wasn’t sure whether to hate you or love you for it.
when the doors opened, everyone was still in a state of shock and grief.
“c’mon, it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he said softly as he guided you back onto the carousel.
──── 〇 △ □ ────
part five
final round
“it’s two.” young-il said coldly, looking around.
“how do you know?” you asked.
“at least a hundred people left, fifty rooms. they’re going to make us fight for it, that’s what they do…”
‘two’
without wasting a second, you and young-il ran towards the closest room.
this round was the more vicious and violent, everyone threw away their morales. there were some kicking others out of rooms, dragging teams away.
you must not have been paying attention because just as you were about to enter the room, right behind young-il, a pair of hands grabbed you from your waist, lifting you in the air and throwing you aside causing you to scream young-il’s name.
young-il whipped his head around, seeing you land on the floor, hitting your head in the process. rage fueled him as he pounced onto the man, giving you time to go into the room.
however, you were met with the sight of another man.
“get out.” you told him.
“no! we were here first!” he shouted back.
just then, young-il came running in, shutting the door behind him. when he saw another person in the room, he was fast to react, launching himself at the man.
“hey fuckin’ let me in!” a voice yelled from the outside.
you jumped into action, pressing your back towards the door, holding it shut while others tried to come in.
you looked up at the timer in the room.
10 seconds
young-il knew exactly what to do, he just wondered if it was the right thing to do in front of you. but as seconds passed, he knew for certain what he had to do if he wanted you to survive.
9
he grabbed the man by the neck, keeping him in a headlock
8
you could see the fear in the man’s eyes
7
the man started choking
6
his legs started to thrash around
5
he was fighting for every breath he could take
4
young-il’s grip tightened
3
‘crack’
2
silence filled the room
1
your eyes were wide open in shock as you waited for young-il to break the silence.
“y/n, i’m so sorry.” he finally said, putting down the now lifeless body onto the ground as he made his way to you.
you were beyond taken aback with the sight that was in front of you, hand over your mouth as you started to breathe quickly.
“hey, no, no. please don’t be scared. it’s me, y/n, it’s okay.” he said with that same gentle voice of his when he was talking to you, just not in a situation like this.
he took your hand away from your face, bringing it down and held your face in his hands.
“look at me please.” he said, his voice now so, so soft, almost as if he was pleading.
you blinked away tears as you slowly looked at young-il, staring deep into his brown eyes.
“thatta girl, it’s okay… i did what i had to do to keep you safe…” he said. “that’s what i promised you right?”
you nodded.
he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead before stepping back. he wiped away your tears with his hands before taking your hand in his again, leading you out as the game came to an end.
what the fuck just happened?
495 notes · View notes
certaimromance · 3 days ago
Text
𝜗𝜚 The Girl Next Door.
Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader
series masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: If Spencer thought being secretly in love with you was hard, having to avoid you in the hallway was even worse.
Words: 4,8k.
Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of jail. painter!reader. post prison reid. spencer’s pov. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. angst, so much angst. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: I struggled a lot writing this because it's a roller coaster, so sorry in advance.
Tumblr media
“How long? It's not a problem to take care of everything, but I'd like to know if you'll be okay or—” Your voice almost cracked for a moment, your eyes still trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Spencer's sheets were still wrapped around your body, and you felt so connected to them that the thought of getting up while still watching him toss and turn looking for his shoes was too much.
“I don't think more than a day or two, I'll be fine.” He stopped his chaotic steps for a second and stared at you as if to make a promise. He paused, glancing away as if to compose himself before adding, “I have some work in Mexico. It came up last minute, or I’d have told you earlier.” His voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, and the words sounded rehearsed, like he was repeating something he’d practiced.
You frowned slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “Work in Mexico?” you echoed. “Since when do they send you out of the country for cases?”
“It’s not that kind of work,” he said quickly, his tone just a little too smooth, a little too practiced. “It’s…consulting. A conference on forensic advancements, some behavioral workshops—things like that.” He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, as if afraid to meet your eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”
You didn’t question him further. Why would you? Spencer wasn’t the type to lie, and the way his brows knit together, the way his voice softened with the promise, “I’ll be back soon,” made you believe him. But something about the way he shifted his weight, the way he avoided looking directly at you, left a faint unease in your chest.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have dinner with you yesterday. And breakfast now. I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to fill the silence.
You tightened the sheets around yourself, curling into their warmth, feeling the lingering heat from the side of the bed where he had been only moments before. It felt like he had never really left, the space around you still filled with the faint echo of his presence. Watching him now, his movements a little frantic, his gaze flickering toward the clock every so often, made you feel like he was slipping away too quickly. A part of you, small and selfish, wanted to ask him to stay. To sit back down, to let the world and his trip wait just a little longer.
But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment, “Promise?”
Spencer’s gaze softened even further, a tenderness washing over his features as he moved closer to you. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes but was filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Promise,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle, as though sealing a pact between the two of you. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing your forehead before his lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. The kiss was tender, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though he didn’t want to pull away from this moment either. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, the space between you vanishing entirely. It felt like the world had narrowed to just this—just the two of you—and all the invisible lines you had drawn between friendship and something more blurred into nothing.
But before you could do something stupid, he pulled back, with his eyes lingering on you, still filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Have you seen my shoe?” he asked, his voice playful yet tinged with the usual frustration of his misplaced belongings.
You let out a small laugh, still wrapped in the sheets, the warmth from them mingling with the warmth of the moment. “Oh, you’re a mess, little boy,” you teased, your voice light and affectionate, the fondness for him slipping out in every word.
“Mittens take it again?” Spencer asked, his eyes glinting with playful exasperation. He had grown accustomed to your cat’s antics, and he could hardly be surprised at this point.
You nodded, grinning as you pointed to the underside of the bed. “Ding ding, genius,” you replied, your voice light and teasing as his gaze followed your finger. Sure enough, there it was, tucked under the bed—another casualty of your mischievous cat’s nightly adventures.
He grumbled good-naturedly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the chaos of the morning didn't matter when you were here with him and everything felt so domestic. As he bent down to pick up his shoe, you couldn't help but watch, your heart swelling at the sight of the man you were so in love with, even in his messiest moments. There was something about him—something in that moment—that made him feel so good, as if everything else could wait and the obvious fact that he didn't feel the same way about you didn't matter. Anyone outside the room generally didn't matter. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in sheets and laughter, clinging to a piece of time that was all yours and would be the only thing you'd have left when he was gone.
“She loves you, that’s why she does it…I guess she wants your attention,” you said, your voice trailing off, and the taste of the words felt sour in your mouth. It sounded too much like you were talking about yourself rather than your pet, and the realization hit you like a cold wave. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t.
He glanced at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I read something about that,” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he didn’t entirely understand the weight behind your words. It didn’t matter. You were used to it by now.
“You read about everything.” You gave him a small, rueful smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, the bitterness of the moment creeping into your voice. You were fine with it, you told yourself. Fine with everything.
He glanced at the clock, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I have to go…it’s late,” he said, and you could hear the quiet resignation in his voice. The moment, it seemed, had reached its inevitable end.
“Okay.” The word slipped out of your mouth more dryly than you intended, and you hated the way it sounded. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want the moment to end. But it was already slipping away, and you knew it. “But before you go…come here.”
He hesitated, looking at you with uncertainty in his eyes. But then, slowly, he took a step toward you, his face softening when you reached out to touch his cheek. The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and your heart skipped a beat at the contact.
“Is…is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if sensing the shift between you.
“No, I just want to say goodbye properly.” You shifted closer, your heart hammering as you moved toward him, your lips hovering near his. The temptation to close the distance, to kiss him, burned inside you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
“Take care and come back,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you meant. You kissed his forehead gently, your fingers instinctively smoothing his hair down as you did. “Now it’s like you have my blessing,” you added with a faint smile.
He smiled at you, the warmth in his expression a bittersweet thing that made your heart ache. “Thank you, and good luck tomorrow with my godchildren’s.” His voice was soft, but the moment was already passing, slipping away, and with it, the space between you both. He gathered his things, gave you one last lingering look, and then turned toward the door.
You stood there, watching him go, the weight of what you didn’t say crashing down on you. The door clicked shut behind him, and you felt a hollow ache in your chest, a longing you couldn’t quite name.
God, you really wanted kissed him.
God, he really wanted you kissed him.
Tumblr media
When Spencer opened his eyes for the first time in a cell and felt a sickening jolt of disorientation. The dirty walls and a rickety bench stared back at him, mocking the comforting image of his organized room and, more painfully, the thought of you. The absence of your laughter, your touch, your presence—everything that had once grounded him—hit him like a freight train. He knew something was wrong.
As the days blurred together and the evidence piled against him, he clung to the belief that this nightmare wasn’t real. Every hearing, every damning piece of evidence that chipped away at his freedom, felt surreal. Even when the judge handed down his sentence, condemning him to months behind bars, the finality of it didn’t register. What shattered him was the moment he filled out his visitation schedule and consciously omitted your name. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like that. He didn’t ask anyone to explain, didn’t try to soften the blow of his absence. That, he thought, was the point of no return—the moment he lost everything.
But Spencer was so wrong. The true breaking point came when he walked out of that hellhole, finally free, and climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a physical ache, the pain in his chest sharper and heavier with every step. His hands trembled as he reached for his keys, the jangling sound unnervingly loud in the empty hallway. His gaze fell on your door, just a few steps away. The familiar sight sent his stomach into knots.
For the first time, he wished you wouldn’t be there.
The thought was alien, unnatural. You had always been there, and he had always wanted you there. When he was too drained to cook, you’d suggest their usual coffee spot, your smile lighting up the grayest of mornings. When his back ached from long nights bent over case files, you’d massage his shoulders, insisting scented candles could fix his bad posture and his bad days. When his mother’s health took a downturn, and he felt his world crumbling, you’d hold him, stroke his back, and promise that everything would be okay. And when his social battery was drained at reunions, you’d step in with your bad jokes or your art facts, making the world feel manageable again.
Now, standing in front of his own door, his fingers clumsy with the lock, all he could hope for was silence. He didn’t know how to face you, didn’t know if he could explain the broken pieces of himself.
His door creaked open, and he was greeted by the familiar scent of the home he had only dreamed of for the last while. It was overwhelming: clean clothes, slightly sweet candles, and something undeniably yours. The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stopped the moment he left three months ago and never returned until now. His heart shrank as he took it all in: the blanket you insisted on leaving on the couch, the pile of books you always meant to return to his library but never did, his fish swimming around as if nothing had happened, and even the plants by the window, thriving despite his absence because you had surely watered them without fail.
And then there were the little details, things that told him that you had not moved away from this place, from him. The plate you always left for his cup of coffee, the one you gave him last Christmas, was still on the counter. His favorite cardigan, the one he thought he had misplaced, was folded neatly on the back of the chair and smelled of the baby softener you liked to use. His books were exactly where he had left them, although one of them had a bookmark you had made, a telltale sign that he had read it and was waiting for him to come back to comment on it, as you always did.
But he hadn’t returned.
Not then. And maybe not now at all.
Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang, its shrill tone slicing through the heavy silence like a sharp reminder of reality. The vibration against his skin startled him, his body tensing as he pulled the device out. His gaze flickered down to the screen, and the name that appeared caused a knot to form in his stomach: JJ. His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing, unsure if he was ready for the conversation he knew would follow. But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding her. Jennifer wouldn’t let him slip away unnoticed, and if he didn’t answer, she might show up at his door, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he had.
With a resigned sigh, he swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”
The concern in his own voice surprised him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe he was just desperate to shift the focus away from himself.
“Everything’s fine,” JJ replied, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve been…quiet.”
He exhaled slowly, staring out the window, the city lights stretching before him and the memories cutting deep. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Just trying to catch up on things. All good here.”
“Okay,” she said softly, and there was a pause—a hesitation that made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing her next words. Then she cleared her throat, the sound small but deliberate. “Have you seen…her?”
The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He turned away from the window abruptly, pacing the length of the apartment as if motion could somehow ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw clenched, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I don’t know if I want to.”
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. How could he say that when every thought of you still made his heart ache? When the idea of you haunted him, so vivid and constant it felt like you were in every shadow of his empty apartment?
Jennifer’s sigh crackled over the line, heavy and filled with the weight of unspoken truths. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with that unshakable sadness she tried so hard to hide. “Every time I see her. I think…” She hesitated again, and Spencer could hear her swallow hard, choosing her next words carefully. “I think you owe her an explanation.”
He swallowed saliva and tightened his fingers around the phone. JJ was right, of course. She always had been. But the idea of facing you, of trying to explain everything without drowning in tears, seemed impossible. How could he tell you the truth? How could he look you in the eye and admit that he had spent the last three months in jail, paying for a crime he had not committed? That he had done things that he deeply regretted, that made him sick and a horrible person?
You deserved better. You always had.
You were a blessing to anyone who had you around, and he knew that better than anyone. That's why he recommended you as a babysitter for JJ's kids, that's why he insisted that you come out to the bar with him and the team several times, that's why he told his mother about you, and that's why he gave you unlimited access to every single part of his life and told you things he'd never told anyone else. You were the one he thought of during those long, sleepless nights behind bars when JJ brought drawings from her boys. He imagined you there with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Henry with his homework or letting Michael pile blocks on your lap. It was silly—heartbreaking, even—but the thought of you, of your warmth and your kindness, had kept him going.
“I have to go…clean some things,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, so desperate to run away from the topic.
“Okay,” JJ replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “Tell me if you need anything.”
Before Spencer could find the strength to speak, the line fell silent. The hum of the apartment filled the space around him, oppressive in its quiet, and he stood there, phone still clenched in his hand. The weight of it, the weight of everything, settled deeper into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the counter as if it could offer him some sort of escape from the quiet agony that had overtaken him. With a long exhale, he dropped the phone, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary, before pulling away with a heavy sense of finality.
Just as he was about to move, his mind already drowning in the whirlpool of thoughts he was so desperate to escape, a soft, muted thud broke the oppressive stillness of the apartment. The noise was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating quiet, it reverberated like a crack of thunder. His breath caught, his heart skipping a beat as his body went rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, his eyes locking onto the open balcony door.
A sleek black shape emerged from the shadows, moving with a practiced elegance that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light. Mittens.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the single syllable, hoarse and unsteady as if even addressing his might shatter the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.
The cat paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if considering him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then, without a second thought, she padded over, her steps confident and unhurried, the soft click of her claws against the floor the only sound in the room. She jumped lightly onto the couch, then onto the small table beside him, her movements fluid and practiced. As she reached him, Mittens sniffed his hand delicately, then nuzzled it gently, her warm, soft fur brushing against his fingertips. The familiar rumble of her purring filled the air, a soothing, almost hypnotic sound that cut through the tension and wrapped around him like a blanket.
Spencer let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the apartment. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the soft fur of her head, unable to stop himself from reaching out.
Mittens leaned into his touch, her purr intensifying as her little body pressed against his hand, seeking warmth, some affection. She didn't care about the months she hadn't seen him or just heard his name spoken a thousand times by you. To her, he was still Spencer, the same one who had fed her, played with her, and cared for her whenever he could. That was enough. She was very happy.
“You still remember me,” he murmured, a faint, fragile smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in what felt like an eternity.
The cat blinked up at him, her green eyes half-lidded with contentment, as if to say, Of course I do.
For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand resting on her soft fur, letting her purring fill the empty spaces inside him. It was such a small thing, her presence, but it reminded him of you—of the life he’d left behind, the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until now.
But the calm didn’t last, and Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he heard a soft knock on the door. His gaze snapped up from the cat, who was now lazily sprawled across the arm of the couch, her purring uninterrupted. The knock came again, this time paired with a voice that sent a jolt through his chest.
“Mittens?”
The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew it instantly. It was you.
Another knock followed, gentle but insistent. “Are you here, baby?”
He froze, every muscle in his body tightening as he registered the sound of your voice. You were here, in his apartment—or at least on the threshold of it. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see you again.
The cat, oblivious to the tension that suddenly filled the room, stretched lazily before hopping down from the couch. Her tail flicked behind her as she padded toward the door, her movements casual, as if she belonged here. Her eyes were fixed on you as you stepped through the open door, your figure partially silhouetted by the light from the outside.
“There you are,” you said softly, your voice brimming with relief. The warmth in your tone hit him like a physical blow, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound threatening to escape.
You crouched down to scoop the cat into your arms, your movements gentle and practiced. “You scared me,” you murmured, cradling her against your chest. Your voice softened, carrying that familiar tenderness he’d missed so desperately. “You’ve been running off so much lately.”
Spencer pressed himself against the shadowed wall, willing himself to disappear. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even look at you for fear his body might betray him. The apartment was dark enough to hide him, but he knew the signs of his presence were everywhere—his phone abandoned on the counter, the faint indentation on the couch, the way the air seemed to shift with the weight of him being there.
You didn’t notice. Your focus was entirely on Mittens as you stroked her soft fur, your touch so gentle it made Spencer ache. “I know you miss him,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips so quietly they almost didn’t reach him. “I do too.”
The confession tore through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, and he bit down hard on his lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
You lingered for a moment, your gaze sweeping over the apartment as if you could feel his presence, even if you didn’t see him. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned back toward the door.
“Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Mittens’ head before stepping into the night.
The door closed with a quiet click, and Spencer was left alone once more. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face. The silence was deafening, a hollow, aching void that swallowed him whole.
Maybe it was for the best. Maybe fate didn’t want you to see him again—at least, not yet.
But then, the next morning, it happened.
You were returning to your apartment, groceries in hand, when you saw him.
He was standing at the end of the hallway with his back to you, as if he was leaving his apartment. As soon as you saw him, your heart skipped a beat and all your rational thoughts vanished. It seemed like an eternity since you had seen him, even though it had only been a few months. Your first instinct was to run to him, throw yourself into his arms, and demand an explanation, but something about his posture made you hesitate. He was stiff, distant, almost sad. His usual warmth was nowhere to be seen. And yet there was something different about him: his long hair, now a bit wilder and more unruly, framed his face in a way you had never seen before. Some curls fell over his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker and darker. The change in his appearance was shocking.
Without thinking, you dropped your groceries at your door and hurried toward him. “Spencer!” you called, your voice trembling with a rush of emotions you had bottled up for months.
He turned slowly, and for a split second, his eyes locked with yours. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, maybe guilt, but it quickly faded, replaced by a cool distance you had never seen in him before, at least not with you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. It was instinct, more than anything, to wrap your arms around him like you always used to do. The warmth of his body felt like home, like everything you had missed was right there in your arms. You held on tightly, breathing him in as if this would somehow make up for the absence. You’d been so lonely without him, and this, just holding him again, felt like it would fix everything that has been wrong lately.
But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t move an inch. This time his body was rigid, unyielding, as if he didn’t feel you or want you around. He did not return your hug. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it or really want it. His arms remained stiff at his sides, and you could feel his breath hitching against your neck, but he didn’t respond. It was like hugging a stranger, someone you once knew but no longer recognized.
“God, I missed you…” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was unreadable. His long hair now brushed against the collar of his shirt, the unruly beard framing his jawline. But his eyes were the only thing that stayed the same—cold and distant, void of the tenderness they once held. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer immediately. The silence hung between you, thick and oppressive, before he finally spoke, his voice flat. “Sorry, I…I don’t think I’m the best person for that right now.”
Your heart sank, the warmth of the hug and reunion evaporating into a hollow chill. “What happened?” you whispered, feeling the pain creep into your voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so worried for you and JJ don’t say so much.”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look like Spencer, not the one you had known—kind, warm, and always ready to offer comfort. His face was hard, closed off, and distant. He seemed…different, almost cold. “I’m sorry, I needed to get to…work,” he said, his voice clipped and curt. “I didn’t think you’d be awake at this hour.”
You felt a pang of confusion and hurt at his words. “What do you mean? You didn’t want to see me? You haven’t been here in months,” you said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. “You just disappear, and then you show up here, like nothing happened? You sleep here? I came to your apartment last night, and you weren’t there.”
He didn’t react. No apology, no acknowledgment of the pain he’d caused. He just stood there, cold, distant. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost sounding like an afterthought. “I had work to do. It’s…complicated.”
“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “That’s all you’ve got after disappearing for three months?”
Finally, his eyes met yours again, but there was no warmth in them. No tenderness, no familiarity. His gaze was hard, as cold as his words. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply, his tone final, cutting through the air like a knife.
It felt like a punch to the gut. The warmth that had once filled your heart whenever Spencer entered a room, the gentle care he had shown you, was now replaced by something colder. It was as if the person you had known—the person who had been your friend, your confidant—had vanished along with the man who used to leave you sweet notes and show up with your favorite food after a rough day.
“You…you don’t owe me anything?” you whispered, your heart breaking with each word.
The silence stretched between you again, suffocating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry.”
But it was hollow, empty. A formality. Not an apology that meant anything.
And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned, walking away. “I have to go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still detached.
Before you could say anything else, he turned, leaving as quickly as he had appeared. And just like that, he was gone again—leaving you alone with the deafening silence and a heart full of questions.
Just like your worst fear: Spencer was avoiding you in the hallway.
256 notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 2 days ago
Note
141 with Reader who experiences pain during penetration please? How would they handle finding out?
Since the reason for experiencing this kind of pain has many possible origins from endometriosis to simply how our bodies hold trauma, I’m going to paint this in a broader stroke.
mdni
warnings: light angst, relationship issues
This might be a dig at Soap, but he’s not going to completely understand at first. In his mind, he thinks he hasn’t done enough to make you wet, and if he incorporates more foreplay and non-penetrative sex, everything will be fine. Obviously, this is not the case. Soap is committed to understanding but it’s going to take him a while to fully come to terms with it. He’s gonna fumble, hard. But he’s dedicated. This might even put a potential strain on your relationship.
Gaz understands immediately. No issues. None. And no judgement either. Instead of trying to lead or offering suggestions, this man puts you in charge. Nothing is happening unless you want it to. If you’re up for it, he’ll participate with full enthusiasm. If you’re not feeling it, he’s not going to make you feel bad for turning him down. He wants you to take care of yourself and listen to your body above his need to get laid.
Price is a problem solver. In his mind, something is wrong, and therefore he needs to help fix it. Although he means well, it can come across sometime as if you’re broken. Price doesn’t mean it that way, truly he doesn’t, but he will slip up and move around the issue in a way that he thinks is delicate but is really a bit disheartening. This is a man who wants to do right by you but isn’t always great on showing how.
For Ghost, when you tell him you experience pain during penetration, his reaction is going to be “okay, and?”, but not in a dismissive or apathetic way. To him, we are all individuals with our own needs and accommodations. Ghost is fully aware of what he needs, so why would he be dismissive or ridicule you for yours? He’s going to follow that up with “how can I be of service to you” and “what do you need from me” because his only goal is your comfort. He enjoys getting his dick wet but what’s the point if you’re in pain? He doesn’t want it unless you both want it.
main masterlist
332 notes · View notes
stars-obsession-pit · 2 days ago
Text
I’ve seen this idea mentioned sometimes that the Joker has something set up where if you kill him, he infects you with something that tries to make you into another Joker. I have no idea if that has any basis in the comics - it hasn’t turned up in any of the stuff i’ve read - but either way imagine using that with a “Danny kills the joker” story.
He might be partially protected thanks to not being fully human, but he doesn’t know. All he can tell is that he’s at least somewhat affected. It’s not like he knows of any examples of this happening before. Maybe his powers saved him, or maybe the toxin wouldn’t be fully effective on a normal person either. Or perhaps it just acts slowly, or it prevents him from realizing how far it’s warped him. He can’t tell.
He’s getting paranoid, he knows. But what else can he do? He can’t just ignore it and give in. He hates this. Why did this have to happen to him? Is there some force in the universe determined to ruin everything for him? Is his whole life some cosmic joke? He should burn it all down, then they’ll see who’s the joke—
no.
He refuses to do that. He doesn’t want to do that. He is was a hero, right?
But he was hated then, too. And now he doesn’t even have a respite. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him whenever he goes outside. He knows they’re judging him, waiting for him to snap. The one that try to help are clearly just trying to avoid him targeting then first. He hates it. He hates them. If he makes them fear him, maybe their stares will stop. No, no, he’s trying to avoid that. It is true that it might be safer for his loved ones if he drives them away though…
Maybe he should turn himself in. That could keep them safe. But what if they try to study him again, cut into his brain and see what makes him tick just like the GIW did?
Jason reaches into his jacket and begins to draw his pistol, readying for a fight. Neither hide nor hair of the Joker has been seen in days, and he’s constantly on edge. And he just heard the distinctive sound of sobbing laughter of a Joker Toxin victim. Part of him wanted to rush in guns blazing, but he forced himself to move slowly, carefully. He was not walking into a trap again.
Peaking into the room, he saw a single figure sitting within; a person, curled up in the corner with head in hands. Shit. He re-holstered his gun and began to approach slowly.
They didn’t seem to notice him, even as he stood right beside them and took in their appearance more closely. It was a boy, probably not much younger than him but looking much smaller in fear. His fingernails were chewed bloody, with more blood staining all around his mouth. His skin was incredibly pale, and Jason couldn’t tell if it was from a natural pallor, fear, or some sort of chemical effect. Jason reached out to touch his shoulder, and the boy suddenly jerked back and scrambled away, only seeming to notice him now.
“S—stay back!” he yelped. Jason thought his eyes flashed green for a moment, but he assumes it must have been the light. More importantly, the bloody lips clearly weren’t just from the boy’s hands; there were sizable wounds in his cheeks, presumably from more chewing.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said, showing his empty hands and trying to be reassuring.
“Stop lying! That’s what they all say! No one ever actually cares.”
“I promise you I’m telling the truth. Here— I’ll take a step back now. I’m not going to attack you. But you do need medical attention—I can get you an ambulance.”
“No– I can’t– no hospitals,” the boy hiccoughed. “Not safe.”
“How about a private clinic? I know some that won’t ask questions.”
“No, it’s not them! I’m not safe! I’m a ticking time bomb! I killed—” he broke himself off. When he spoke again, it was quiet, almost a confession, “I– I can’t, I refuse to be like him. I won’t follow in his footsteps.”
“Like who?”
“The Joker.”
117 notes · View notes
cherrysolo · 7 hours ago
Note
can you expand on sweet bf!lu and reader taking a break before he went mia… imagine her having to come into court, the edits of her, and then like a video call of them gets leaked and they’re just so cute
is this controversial idk
omg this is such a interesting idea! I wasn’t sure how to approach this, so I tried my best! hope u enjoy <3
you and luigi had met through mutual friends in Hawaii and instantly clicked. you both enjoyed reading, hiking, and spending time with one another. you really believed that you guys were soulmates or something along those lines…
you guys had finally moved in together after being together for over a year, taking the next steps in a serious relationship.
but, weeks into moving in together, lu began to pull away and become more cold.
he wasn’t as affectionate anymore, didn’t talk as much, isolated himself, and forgot your anniversary. in your mind you made excuses for him. not sure what was truly going on.
early February, one late night, you were getting ready for bed, and lu still wasn’t home. then, he snuck into bed, scaring you half to death, but feeling comforted that your boy was home.
“hey baby, sorry for coming in so late,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around your waist. you turn facing him, gripping onto his hair and lightly combing your hand throughout his curls. maintaining eye contact you begin to feel vulnerable and worried for the state of your relationship.
“it’s okay lu, just please start being honest with me. I’m worried about you,” you sigh.
he nuzzles his head into your chest, breathing in your scent which brings him comfort.
“I know, I promise I’ll do better baby. I love you. let’s just get some rest, we both need it,” he sighs into you, hugging you further.
“love you lulu, I always will,” shutting your eyes, falling into slumber thinking about how much you want this to work.
your alarm waking you up, but what was more concerning was waking up to a cold bed. lu was nowhere to be found. walking out into the kitchen, you see a piece of paper on the counter.
“to my y/n,
don’t worry about me. I’ve taken the last minute decision to go backpacking. not sure when I’ll be back, so don’t wait for me. I don’t want you contacting me, I’ll be going MIA for a bit. don’t blame yourself for this either, it’s all on me. love you sweet girl, always will.
-luigi”
you read the letter with tears streaming down your face. that was it? over a year of creating a life together and all I get is words on a page. it felt like you were backstabbed and left with absolutely nothing. a complete hole left in your heart, not sure where to go next. my love should be celebrated, but instead he left.
months, minutes, and millions of thoughts have passed by. you moved on with your life as he told you to do, even moving states away. you hadn’t even thought of his name for a couple months, until you turned on the news one december morning.
weeks later your life had changed. you had millions of people watching you, sharing photos of your past relationship, and even having to face him in court. you felt like you’d needed to support him in any way you could during such a tough time. you showed up for every court appearance, his supporters loving everything about you too. it secretly pulled at luigi’s heartstrings, you guys still hadn’t talked yet, but seeing you there, supporting him, it gave him a glimmer of hope. it was heartbreaking to see your love in such a bad place, being accused of such horrible things. you just wanted to be back in hawaii watching the sunsets with him.
93 notes · View notes
mattsobvimyfav · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
neighbors (matthew sturniolo)
pt 10
A couple of days had passed and Nick just posted the vlog from our drive around LA. Charlie and I were lounging on the couch, scrolling through our phones. My notifications had been blowing up all day. Every few seconds, a new comment popped up, most of them about the kiss Matt and I had shared in the vlog. The hate comments didn’t faze me—they were ridiculous and honestly kind of entertaining. People had too much time on their hands.
“Oh my God,” Charlie said, leaning over to peek at my phone. “They’re actually mad about a kiss? Like, of all things to care about.”
I shrugged, smirking. “Apparently, I’m public enemy number one. Should I frame this?”
She laughed, but before either of us could say more, my phone started buzzing. Matt’s name flashed on the screen. I answered quickly, putting the call on speaker.
“Hey,” I greeted casually, expecting him to laugh about the comments with me.
“Have you seen my comment section?” His voice was tense, his tone clipped.
I sat up straighter. “Uh, yeah. People are being dumb. Who cares?”
“I care,” he snapped. “It’s not just about you, Y/N. They’re not even saying awful things about me. Its just about how I ‘picked the wrong girl’ or whatever. It’s everywhere.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow at me, mouthing, ‘Seriously?’
“Matt, they’re just bitching,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You know none of that matters.”
“It’s easy for you to say,” he shot back. “Your TikTok isn’t flooded with comments about how I ‘deserve better’ or how you’re ‘using me for clout.’ It's pissing me off.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, so what do you want to do? We can’t control what people say.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before he spoke again, his tone softer but still firm. “Troll back. Lets just start making whatever we are way more public give them a real reason to be mad.” 
I hesitated, glancing at Charlie, who was already nodding eagerly as if to say, ‘Just do it.’
“Fine,” I said finally. “Let’s do it, I love being a dick online.”
Matt let out a breath, some of the tension easing from his voice. “Deal. I’ll come over later.”
As I hung up, Charlie smirked at me. “Hes gonna make you do porn on tiktok.”
“We havent even fucked,” I said, rolling my eyes. 
“WHAT?” She yelled jumping up sitting straight up “What the fuck was going on the other night than?” 
“He just ate me out and oh my god the hottest thing ever, he was so turned on that started jerking off. Just to eating me out” I said feeling a warmth between my legs rethinking about the night me and Matt shared.
“Wow. Thats really fucking hot, hes inlove with you” Charlie said looking away from me “Im picturing it in my head. I'm jealous” I laughed at her response as we laid back down going back to our phones. 
Later that night, Matt came over, his irritation over the comments still lingering but hidden under his usual calm demeanor. I greeted him at the door, grinning as I waved him inside. "Ready to show the internet who's boss?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "You mean, ready to show the internet that I don’t care, but also kind of care? Yeah, let’s do this."
Charlie, lounging on the couch with her popcorn, chimed in. “Make it iconic, okay? Something that makes the haters cry.”
Scrolling through TikTok, I landed on the “A boy who’s jacked and kind” trend. I turned the screen to Matt. “How about this one? It’s simple, it’s bold, and it’ll get them talking.”
Matt glanced at the screen, then at me, his lips quivering into a smirk. “You really think you can handle me lifting you like that?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “The question is whether you can handle me.”
Charlie snorted from the couch. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
We set up the phone, positioning it on the kitchen counter for the perfect angle. Charlie jumping around on the couch in the back, I stood in front of Matt as the trend’s audio began playing. The line “A boy who’s jacked” came up, and right on cue, Matt’s hands slid to my hips. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted me effortlessly, placing me on his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as I balanced on his shoulder, gripping onto him for support. The audio continued, transitioning to “and kind,” and Matt gave the camera with a playful grin, tapping my leg lightly.
Matt walked over grabbing his phone while I was still on his shoulders, added the caption: “my lady” and hit post.
Charlie shrugged, looking over Matt’s shoulder. “I like my cameo.”
Matt gently lowered me back to the ground, his hands lingering on my waist. “Think that’ll do the trick?”
I leaned into him slightly, grinning. “Oh, it’ll definitely stir the pot. But at least this time, it’s on our terms.”
We flopped onto the couch next to Charlie, refreshing the post to watch the views climb almost instantly. Matt wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer as the first wave of comments rolled in.
As we sat on the couch, watching the likes and comments roll in from Matt’s TikTok, I turned to him with a mischievous grin. “Okay, now it’s my turn. We’re making one for my account.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s the plan?”
“You’ll see,” I teased, grabbing his hand to pull him up. “We need a parking lot for this one.”
Without hesitation, he stood, grabbed his keys, and intertwined his fingers with mine.  I laughed as he practically dragged me to the door, his excitement contagious. 
“BYE LOVERS! Chris and Nick will be here when you get back!” Charlie yelled from the couch.
“Bye baby!” I yelled back to her
By the time we reached the car, I was giggling uncontrollably. “You don’t even know what we’re doing yet.”
“Don’t care,” he said opening the passenger door for me. “You said parking lot, so we’re going to a parking lot.”
The drive was filled with us singing to old songs wed listen to in college. His curiosity clearly bubbling under the surface. “So,” he finally asked, “are you going to clue me in, or do I just wing it when we get there?”
I smirked, looking out the window. “You’ll know when the time comes.”
He shook his head, chuckling as he turned into a small, dimly lit parking lot. “This good enough for your tiktok?”
“Perfect,” I said, hopping out of the car. I grabbed my phone and propped it up against the tire, adjusting the angle until it captured the open space behind us.
Matt leaned against the car, watching me with amused curiosity. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s the move?”
I pulled up the audio and played it for him, explaining as it went. “Okay, so, I start spinning in the frame when the music begins, and then you run in, pick me up, and keep running off-screen.”
He nodded, walking away.
I laughed, hitting record and jogging into position. The audio started, and I spun slowly, my arms outstretched as the music swelled. ‘You better lock your phone-’ Right on cue, Matt dashed into the frame, scooping me up effortlessly. I squealed in surprise as he kept running, the camera capturing the two of us disappearing into the shadows.
When he finally stopped, both of us were laughing uncontrollably. “That was perfect,” I said, catching my breath as he set me down. 
“Obviously,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Now, let’s see it.”
We walked back to the car, reviewing the footage together under the soft glow of the streetlights. The video was exactly what I had imagined.
“You’re posting that, right?” Matt asked, his arm draped casually over my shoulder.
“Absolutely,” I said, uploading the video with the caption: “my future baby daddy.”
As we got back into the car, I glanced over at him, grinning. “You really don’t question anything, do you?”
He shrugged, kissing my forehead. “Not when it comes to you.”
When we got back to the house, the sound of voices and laughter greeted us as we stepped inside. Chris and Nick were now sprawled out on the couch with Charlie, the TV playing in the background.
As soon as I walked in, a wave of excitement hit me. Everything had been going so well lately, and I couldn’t help but feel like life was finally falling into place. “Guys!” I yelled, throwing my arms up in the air. “We should celebrate tonight!”
Nick perked up, looking intrigued. “What are we celebrating exactly?”
“Everything!” I exclaimed. “Life!”
Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Yes Y/N! I LOVE CELEBRATING LIFE!” Chris jumped up wrapping his arms around my shoulders behind me as we jumped like school girls.
Nick’s face lit up. “Well, if we’re talking about celebrating, I know Tara Yummy is throwing a party tonight. Should we go?”
Charlie’s eyes widened with excitement. “I’m in! We haven’t been to one of her parties. We've only ever dmed her a few times about a collab”
Matt looked over at me, smirking. “You good with that?”
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation, “Let’s go, I can tell Chris is gonna match my freak tonight” I said while patting his arm that was hanging on me.
Charlie laughed at me and Chris jumping around, we exchanged a quick glance before I turned, pointing toward the door. “Alright, you three. Go home and get ready.”
Nick groaned but stood up, dragging Matt with him. “Fine, but you better not take forever.”
“No promises!” Charlie called out as the boys headed out, leaving us to start planning our outfits for the night.
The moment the boys left, Charlie and I raced upstairs to start getting ready. The excitement of the night buzzed between us, making us laugh and talk over each other as we dug through our closets for the perfect outfits.
“I’m thinking something bold,” I said, pulling out a burgundy strapless corset top that hugged my figure and showed off just the right amount of cleavage. I paired it with a tight black cloth skirt that barely covered my ass and my black heeled boots. “What do you think?”
Charlie whistled, grinning. “Matt’s going to fuck you infront of everyone.”
I laughed, tossing a pillow at her. “We’re celebrating life, remember? What about you?”
She held up a black crop top with thin straps that fit her perfectly and paired it with a jean mini skirt that showed off her long legs. She added a pair of cute ankle boots. “How’s this?”
“Absolutely stunning,” I said with a grin. 
We got to work on our makeup and hair, After straightening my hair and leaving it sleek and shiny, I turned to Charlie, who was curling her hair into loose waves.
“You’re going to have every guy at that party eating out of your hand,” I teased, spraying her hair with setting spray.
“Please, as long as Chris is that's all I care ‘bout,” she shot back, but her smile was wide.
By the time we finished, we took a couple pictures in the mirror, grinning like excited to finally meet Tara, and get drunk.
“Let’s do this,” I said, grabbing my phone to text the boys to let them know we were almost ready.
“They better not keep us waiting,” Charlie added with a laugh as we headed downstairs, our heels clicking against the floor, excitement building for the night ahead.
Charlie and I were halfway through our second nip of vodka, as we danced around the kitchen. The boys walked in just as I tipped the tiny bottle back, the liquid burning slightly as it slid down my throat.
“Starting without us?” Nick teased. Chris followed close behind, already laughing at the scene.
Matt came in last, his eyes locking on me immediately. I caught the smirk tugging at his lips as he walked over. Just as I was placing the empty nip on the counter, his hands slid around my waist, and one moved down to grab my butt firmly.
I shrieked, startled, and spun my head around to glare at him, but he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s go.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I turned back around, trying to hide my flushed face as I reached for my bag. Charlie wiggled her eyebrows at me but said nothing as she grabbed her purse and slid her phone into it.
“All set?” Chris asked.
“Matt’s driving,” Nick said with a grin. 
“Lucky me,” I said, giving Matt a playful smirk. “That means you can take care of me when I'm hammered.”
He rolled his eyes but smiled, gesturing toward the door. “Per usual.”
Charlie and I followed the boys outside, the cool night air hitting our skin as we clicked down the driveway in our heels. Matt opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, adjusting my skirt as he walked around to the driver’s side. Charlie climbed into the back with Chris and Nick, and we were off, heading for Tara’s party.
The car was filled with excitement and music as we drove, everyone hyped for the night ahead. I leaned back in my seat, sneaking a glance at Matt as he drove, his hand gripping the wheel tightly, the other holding my thigh. 
The house was packed with music blasting through the speakers and groups of people talking and laughing in every corner. As we walked in, the energy was electric.
“Y/N! Charlie!” A high-pitched squeal came from across the room, and Tara was practically sprinting toward us. She threw her arms around me first, then Charlie, her excitement contagious. “I was so excited when Nick told me you guys were coming! Finally, I get to meet the infamous Y/N and Charlie. You’re even prettier in person!”
Charlie and I exchanged amused smiles. “You’re so sweet, Tara,” I said, hugging her back.
“Come on,” Tara said, linking her arms with ours. “Let me show you where the drinks are. We’re getting started right now.”
She led us through the crowd, leaving Matt, Nick and Chris to socialize with other people, to a makeshift bar setup on the kitchen counter, complete with every type of alcohol imaginable. Tara wasted no time, grabbing shot glasses and pouring tequila like a pro.
“Let’s go, ladies,” she said, holding up her shot glass.
“Cheers!” we all yelled, clinking glasses before throwing back the first shot.
And then the second.
And then the third.
Before long, Charlie and I were fully committed to a shot-for-shot competition with Tara, each round getting harder to keep up with her.
“Come on, lightweight!” Tara teased as Charlie hesitated before the seventh shot, but I wasn’t about to back down. I threw our shot back, wincing as the burn hit my throat.
By the time an hour had passed, the three of us were absolutely obliterated. Tara was laughing so hard she was leaning on the counter for support, and Charlie and I were clinging to each other to stay upright.
“I love you guys,” Tara slurred, throwing her arms around us. “You’re my favorite people in the world now.”
“You’re my favorite!” Charlie yelled back, equally as drunk, before dissolving into giggles.
I nodded enthusiastically, my head spinning but too far gone to care. “Best friends forever,” I declared, raising my empty shot glass in the air like it was some kind of victory trophy.
The party was in full swing, the music pounding in my chest as I stumbled my way through the crowd, drink still clutched in my hand. My vision blurred slightly, but I was riding a wave of tipsy confidence—until I spotted him.
Matt.
He was leaning casually against the wall, talking to some girl. She was laughing at something he said, leaning in just a little too close. A flash of annoyance surged through me, cutting through the haze of alcohol. My mind betrayed me, flashing back to our college days—Matt fucking girl after girl.
Fueled by jealousy and bad judgment, I stormed across the room, stumbling slightly but determined. “What the hell is this?” I blurted, my voice louder than I intended.
Matt straightened up, his brows furrowing as he looked at me. “Y/N—”
“No, seriously,” I slurred, gesturing wildly at the girl. “What’s happening here?”
The girl blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, I’m gonna go...” she muttered, excusing herself quickly as the tension between Matt and me became palpable.
Matt’s jaw tightened, and before I could say another word, he grabbed my wrist. “We’re not doing this here,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding. He pulled me through the crowd, ignoring my protests, until we were in a quiet, empty room.
He let go of my wrist, closing the door behind us. Turning to face me, his eyes were sharp, his tone clearly pissed. “What the fuck was that, Y/N?”
“I could ask you the same thing!” I shot back, swaying slightly on my feet. “Talking to some random girl like I don’t even exist? What’s the deal, Matt? Back to your old habits?”
His hands went to his temples, rubbing them in frustration. “Are you serious right now? She’s just a friend! And even if she wasn’t, that’s not what this is. You’re drunk and making something out of nothing.”
“I saw the way she was looking at you,” I accused, my voice trembling. “And you weren’t exactly pushing her away.”
He took a step closer, his voice lowering as he leaned in. “Y/N, you’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight. Chill the fuck out.”
As Matt’s words echoed in the small, dimly lit room, I could feel the tension building, the weight of everything from the party to my frustrations pressing down on me. But then, unexpectedly, the alcohol made everything feel lighter.
I giggled, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably from my chest. "I love you," I blurted out, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Matt looked at me, eyebrows raised, clearly taken aback by my sudden shift in mood. "What?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement.
I shrugged, the smile on my face turning mischievous despite the still-present anger in my head. "I mean, I do," I said, a silly grin stretching across my face. 
He stood there, speechless for a moment, his eyes searching mine. His lips quirked upward into a small, amused smile as he let out a deep breath. "You’re drunk, Y/N."
"Yeah, I know," I said, still grinning, "but I still love you."
He shook his head, chuckling lightly, before stepping closer. "You're lucky you're cute when you're drunk."
"You still love me, though," I teased,
"Yeah, I do," he admitted, his expression softening. "But let's get you back to the party before you start loving everyone."
I laughed again, “How about you just let me love you..” I pushed Matt back as he stumbled onto the bed.
“y/n don't… you're drunk.” Matt said as I walked towards him, placing myself on his lap.
“Just shut the fuck up Matt and kiss me” 
And when he finally gave me what I wanted, his lips crashing against mine as he moved against me, the world disappeared. There was only Matt—his touch, his voice, his everything. 
Matt’s hands gripped my hips, his hold firm but controlled, as if he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding me. 
His body was flush against mine, every inch of him radiating heat. “Wait till tomorrow,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine, teasing but not giving me the kiss I desperately wanted. “I refuse to fuck you this drunk, y/n. And you are making it oh so hard”
“Shut up,” I whispered, tugging at his hair to start kissing his neck as I grinded my hips into his.
His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder that in this moment, I was his and his alone.
“Get off me before I go against all my morals,” he said, his voice rough and full of promise. “I say full of love and respect.” he moaned out as I perfected my last hickey on him.
“There, I just needed you to shut up so I could show people. You belong to someone” I said as I leaned back looking at my work.
“Good to know.” Matt said as he leaned down, starting his own art peace on my chest. 
Once he was finished he grabbed my hips standing me up. “Lets go baby” He grabbed my hand pulling me towards the door. I stopped in the mirror fixing my hair and seeing Matt's two hickeys, one on each breast. Matt walked over to the mirror inspecting the couple I left trailing down his neck. “God you are so sexy” He said, kissing my cheek as he guided me out to the party. 
As Matt and I stepped back into the party, the loud music and chatter hit me like a wave. The room felt like it was spinning a little, but I held onto Matt's arm for balance. We were just about to make our way back to the group when Chris spotted us from across the room.
He ran over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There you are," he said, stopping in front of us. His eyes flicked between Matt and me before landing on me. "Y/N, I need you bad."
My eyebrows shot up, and Matt's posture immediately tensed beside me, sensing something was off. Chris, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the undercurrent of tension.
"I'm sorry," Chris said with a playful shrug, glancing over at Matt, "No, not like that anymore. I need you as my beer pong partner." He laughed realizing how bad his first sentence sounded.
Matt's grip on my arm tightened, but before I could even ask what he meant, Chris waved a hand dismissively and added with a wink, I couldn't help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a bit. "You scared me for a second there," I joked, shaking my head at Chris.
Matt let out a small laugh too, his shoulders loosening as he realized it was just Chris being his usual, over-the-top self. "Yeah, she’s off-limits for now," Matt said, his tone affectionate but teasing. "But you can have her for beer pong."
Chris grinned and pulled me toward the game, but not before giving Matt a quick look. "Don't worry, I only need her to win this game. And you," he added, glancing at me, "are the best person for the job."
"Let’s do it then," I said, grinning and ready to dive into the chaos of the game, trying to push any lingering doubts aside.
Chris, despite being a bit too drunk to focus, had an energy that was hard to ignore. He bounced on his feet, grinning like a madman as he lined up to take his first shot. “Alright, we got this, Y/N,” he said with way too much confidence, raising his beer.
Across from us, Jake and Tara stood ready, both giving us playful smirks. Tara was already holding her own drink, clearly just as drunk as me, while Jake had a look of determination on his face, obviously eager to win. “You’re going down,” Jake said with a laugh, tossing the ping pong ball up and readying himself to launch it across the table.
Nick and Matt stood off to the side, cheering us on. Nick was practically jumping up and down in excitement, while Matt pushed himself off the wall, going behind me whispering in my ear. "Come on, Baby" 
The game started off slower than I expected, with Chris getting distracted by anything and everything—whether it was a drink on the table or someone else at the party walking by. But even in his drunken state, he was surprisingly good. Tara missed her first few shots, but Jake was still hitting his, making me sweat a little. I had to focus, but thankfully, Chris and I managed to keep our heads in the game.
We took turns, and each time, I felt the tension rise. Tara and Jake had their competitive energy going, but it was clear Chris and I had the upper hand—probably because Tara and Jake were having more fun than they were serious about winning. Chris finally got it together after a few more missed throws, throwing his ball with incredible force and sinking it into one of the last cups.
“Fuck yeah!” Chris shouted, stumbling and almost tipping over. I had to grab him to stop him from falling off balance.
In the final round, it came down to one last shot. Jake was up, and I knew he was going to give it everything he had. He took a deep breath, lined up his shot, and threw the ping pong ball—only for it to bounce off the rim and miss entirely. The room fell silent for a second before Chris and I erupted into cheers.
“We did it!” I yelled, laughing as Chris grabbed me in a half-hug and spun me around. “I can’t believe we won!”
Nick and Matt, who had been watching from the sidelines, immediately started clapping and cheering. “FINALLY!” Nick shouted, high-fiving Chris.
Tara and Jake laughed good-naturedly, though I could tell they were a little disappointed. “Alright, alright, you guys earned it,” Jake said, tossing a playful glare in our direction.
An hour had passed, and the energy of the party was starting to get to me. I could feel the buzz starting to wear off, and I was ready to head home. I looked over at Matt, who was leaning against the wall, talking to Nick. He caught my eye, and I gave him a small nod, silently telling him I was ready to go.
I walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Matt, I think it's time to head home," I said, trying to keep the smile on my face, but feeling the exhaustion from the party creeping in. The lights were too bright, the music a little too loud, and I just wanted to go back to the comfort of my place.
Matt nodded, his hand immediately finding mine. "Alright, let's get out of here," he said, pulling me toward the door. We waved to Tara and a few others as we made our way out of the party and into the cool night air.
Nick, who went to get Chris and Charlie, was already making his way to the car, pulling Chris and Charlie along with him. We all piled into the car, with Matt driving, me in the passenger seat, and the rest of the crew in the back. The ride was mostly quiet, everyone content in their own thoughts after a long night.
As we drove through the city streets, I could feel the tension finally easing. The party was fun, but there was something about heading home with Matt, knowing the night was winding down. I leaned my head against the window, watching the streetlights blur past as we made our way home.
Matt glanced over at me, a small smile on his face. "You good?" he asked, his voice soft.
"Yeah," I replied, smiling back at him. "Just ready to be alone with you."
We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the sounds of the car and the occasional laugh from the backseat filling the air. The night had been eventful, but now all I wanted was the peace of being home with Matt.
tag-
@tbfaptbfae @ch0lliess @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend
73 notes · View notes
lethargiccryptid · 3 days ago
Text
Jack and Jill Fell Down a Hill... Cause Steve's a Dumbass
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Steve Rogers & Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader
The one where Steve's a dumbass, you're a clutz and poor Bucky is just trying to keep you alive 😂
Tumblr media
“No more, Steve, this is cruel and unusual.” Y/N slumped against the tree. Steve crossed his arms and shook his head.
“We only ran two laps, Y/N, come on, it’ll be good for you.”
“How do you know what’s good for me, Rogers? Y/N glared up at him.
“Just a few more laps, come on.” Steve held out a hand to help her up. Turning, she looked up at the tree and back at Steve. He raised a brow and waived his hand around a little. Turning back towards the tree, she wrapped her arms around the trunk.
“Meet my new friend, tree.” Y/N looked up at Steve. “Tree,” She turned to look up at the tree. “Meet Steve.” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Y/N, come on,” He paused to nod at a couple jogging by. “You’re making a scene.” Steve knelt in front of her and whispered. Y/N shook her head stubbornly and patted the trunk.
“We’ve bonded, tree and I. Tree is my home now.” Steve sat back on his haunches and ran a hand over his face.
“I wonder what Bucky will have to say about that, Y/N, act your age.”
“Oh, but that wouldn’t be fun for either of us would it, Rogers?”
“What do you mean by that?"
“Well, it’d be fine if I acted my age, but if you acted your age, I’d have to come visit you in the nursing home.” Y/N smiled up at him slyly. Steve leaned forward and narrowed his eyes.
“What did you just say, L/N?”
“Oh! We're doing last names now?” Y/N’s grin widened, and releasing the tree, she turned and leaned forward placing her hands on her knees. “I said you’re an old man, Steve Rogers.” Something flashed across Steve’s eyes, and he lowered his eyes.
“That’s what I thought you were implying.” His voice dropped and he looked up at her slowly.
“Now, Steve,” Y/N stood slowly, and so did he. Steve took a step forward, and she took a step back. “It would probably be a good idea for me to start running now, wouldn’t it?” Y/N said, feeling her pulse quicken. Steve kept his eyes trained on her, and she started to fidget at the way they grew darker.
“Probably.” He nodded. With a sharp squeal, Y/N took off like a shot, Steve hot on her trail. She managed to stay several steps of him for longer than she’d have thought she could, but that streak was broken when she looked back, only to lose her footing on a steep hill. “Y/N!” Steve shouted and lunged to catch her.
“Steve, no, I,” Y/N attempted to right herself, but was thrown off balance by the full weight of a super soldier plowing into her. With a wheeze, Y/N went tumbling down the hill, dragging Steve with her. He wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to cushion the blows coming from rocks and the lumpy ground as they tumbled. “Oof!” Y/N landed on her back with Steve Rogers’ dead weight on top of her.
“Are you okay?” He looked down at her in horror. Y/N began beating the ground with her hand.
“Air!” She wheezed.
“Steve? Y/N?” Steve’s head shot up to see Bucky jogging down the hill with a concerned expression. “Get off of her, Steve!” Bucky shouted, moving to peel Steve off of Y/N. Steve scrambled to his feet and moved several steps away. “Doll?” Bucky knelt next to Y/N and touched her cheek. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were darting about wildly.
“Air!” She wheezed again. Steve winced. She sounded like a beached whale gasping for air. Bucky helped her to sit up, concern still evident on his face.
“Breathe, doll.” He commanded, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands. Y/N shook her head and slapped at the ground again. “Y/N, focus on me.” Her eyes cleared a little at his sharp tone and she focused on his eyes. Bucky led her in taking several deep breaths. Suddenly Steve began to feel awkward.
“I’m…okay…” Y/N tapped Bucky’s hand gently.
“Are you sure?” Bucky furrowed his brows and tilted her face side to side, examining her. Y/N gave him a soft smile, or at least her best attempt at a soft smile. He would have found the graceless gesture adorable if he weren’t so concerned. “You scared me out of a year’s growth, Y/N.” He gave her a severe frown, turning to look up at Steve, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What were you thinking, Steve? You almost broke my best girl.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. Before he could open his mouth, Y/N broke in.
“Buck.” She rasped, tapping the hand that had slipped from her face to her neck. His attention returned to her, and his eyes softened. “I’m a klutz.” He huffed and pulled himself to his feet. Y/N held out her hand for him to help her up, only for him to bend and lift her easily into his arms.
“You’re a little hellion.” He grumbled, pressing a kiss to her nose. “I need you to start watching where you’re going.” He punctuated his words by jostling her in his arms.
“Bucky, I’m not a child,” Y/N began, stopping when she saw the stern look on Bucky’s face. With an exasperated sigh she nodded. When he got in these protective moods, it was best to placate him. Turning to face Steve, Bucky looked him up and down and shook his head. When Steve tried to open his mouth again, Y/N caught his eye and shook her head.
Later.
Thank you for reading! Like, reblogs and comments always appreciated! 🥰
@lazyjellyfish300, 😉
103 notes · View notes
rebelliousstories · 1 day ago
Text
Spencer Reid SFW Alphabet
Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Request: No by Anon
Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Cases, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Angst
Word Count: 3,184
Main Masterlist: Here
Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here
Consider Donating: Here
Tumblr media
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
This is really going to depend on how two things: how long you are into your relationship and what season we’re talking about.
Early seasons plus early in the relationship means that he’s going to be a bit more reserved in his affections. Very rarely will he do more than stand near you if you’re in public together. However, early seasons and later in the relationship will grant you hand holding in public, maybe a peck on your cheek if you are lucky.
Now later seasons, I’m talking no earlier than season eight, he’s more alright with PDA. He’ll definitely insist on holding hands, and he absolutely will get upset when you don’t for whatever reason. Spencer is more prone to kissing in public, especially if he’s had a few drinks with the team.
In private though, no matter the season, once he’s comfortable with you, he’s holding you. Reid loves to hold you in his arms, tucked up against him so that he can feel your body heat. Away from prying eyes is when he is less reserved about his affections. He also really loves laying in your arms, so long as you pick a good book to read to him while he lays his head on your chest.
B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
Reid is a goofy Gubler. We all see how he is with the team, and you can definitely expect more of that. He adores having someone that he can turn to for whatever it is. Whether that is someone to cry with, laugh with, or just spend time in silence with. Also, having someone to geek out with is always appreciated.
I could see you meeting at either a bookstore or comic convention, that is if you’re not in the FBI already. No matter if it’s a bookstore or comic convention, I can definitely see you both reaching for the same thing, and he cracks a joke unintentionally about how you both could just split it.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
You really think this man doesn’t like to cuddle? Oh, no. You’re mistaken. He will insist on cuddles. There is nothing more that he loves, especially when he comes home from a case.
If it’s a normal day, or if you’re upset, he’s the big spoon. Spencer loves to have you facing him so that he can watch you sleep, in the least creepy way possible. Tucking you into him, feeling your body heat, heart beat, and soft breaths escaping your nose; all of that makes him feel better. It helps him know that you’re there with him. You’re not a figment of his imagination.
However, if he’s had a long case, a bad day; Spencer is the little spoon. It’s almost comical how he’s able to curl his body up into such a tiny little ball. But this man is going to need one arm wrapped around him, the other hand in his hair, and you reassuring him that everything is going to be okay. It’s the one time that Reid is the quietest, so feel free to spout on about something random. Listening to someone else ramble is soothing to the number one rambler.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Spencer was a child prodigy; this man cannot cook to save his life. Not unless it was an instant meal that he just had to heat up and eat. So he would be perfectly alright with someone who only knew how to make kraft Mac and cheese. But if you knew how to actually cook, well, you might just be able to make this man eat properly for the first time.
Cleaning, though, he’s got that down pat. He will not, under any circumstance let you do it though. Spencer tells you it’s because he doesn’t want you to get your hands dirty, so he tells you not to clean his apartment even if you live there too. Not because he thinks you can’t, but he’s got his own process and cleaning solutions that the likes to use and he wont change them. Besides, if you’re doing the cooking, he may as well do the cleaning.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
He’s doing it quickly and efficiently, but no matter what, he can’t lie to you. Reid is telling you that this is for your own betterment. But he’s trying to be sensitive to your feelings while still remaining objective. It makes him feel awful, but he does it.
F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Spencer won’t rush into an engagement, even if he feels it’s time. He’s trying to contain himself and the ring, as he waits for your reaction to when he brings up marriage or children. While he wants to spend the rest of his life with you the second he knows it in his heart, he still needs you to realize it. Especially since he doesn’t pick up on social queues very well still, and occasionally needs a little help from someone like Morgan or Hotch. Cause he is not going to Rossi about that.
There is nothing more that he wants in the world to call you his forever though.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Physically, Spencer is a gentle giant. His hands are always soft somehow, and he touched you like you’re made of glass half the time. Feather-light touches that will trace random shapes on your skin. He loves to nuzzle his face into your neck and just stay there. The other half is spent tackling you into bear hugs because he hasn’t seen you in a week as he has been on the other side of the country. When he decides that he is getting affection, there is nothing stopping him.
Emotionally, Reid is sensitive but not in the way that you would think. He’s not the type to outright say how he’s feeling on account of his job. But if you prompt him, and get him into a safe state of mind, he’ll mention things casually. It’s especially weird though when he mentions something traumatic in the same way that someone talks about the weather. But with you he’s always there to lend an ear. Just be sure to tell him if you want a solution or to vent, because he needs a second to restructure his brain.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Ugh… a hug from Spencer is something that has the power to change your entire day. He adores hugs. They can mean so many things, and each one is alright with him. If you live with him, he’s getting one right before he leaves, and the second you are both home. He’ll squeeze you extra tight if he comes back for his go bag and you’re there in the apartment.
Early season Reid, when he’s still a little noodley, has to wrap you in tight because he doesn’t have the beef to pour what he wants into the hug. Later seasons when he muscles up just a bit are a bit different, because he now has more mass to wrap around you.
I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)
This man waits, I mean, WAITS, to say it. He’s very slow to trust given his background and job, but once he does, it’s not too much more difficult to worm into that romantic side. Once he knows he does love you, Reid is giving it about two or three months before he finally works up the courage to say it. But once he does, he can’t stop saying it.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
A feeling that he is not too attune to. Spencer is very sure of himself most of the time. Not only does his credentials and just having you by his side help his self-esteem, but he’s also just very sure in your relationship. Reid isn’t too worried about you being tempted most of the time, and certainly not himself.
Yet, when he does, it’s deprecating towards his own self. Sometimes, Spencer is terrified that you are going to realize that he’s not the right man for you; not funny enough, not handsome enough, not cool enough, or something of the sort. The kind of thing that he really only thinks about when his walls have been worn down anyways. But when he does, he retreats into himself, looking a bit like a kicked puppy but refusing to go up to make a fool of himself.
Just come over and fawn over him for a little while, and he’ll be back to your lover boy in a second as he becomes putty in your hands.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Under no circumstances do you need to think about sleepy little kisses when he gets back from a case and you’re already asleep, and he’s exhausted. Don’t think about it.
Now that you’re not thinking about that, Spencer kisses you like he’ll never kiss you again no matter where or when. He’s terrified, because of his job and the nature of it, that you might be taken from him. So he always makes sure that the last thing he says is, “I love you,” and the last thing he does is kiss you fiercely. He does have smaller pecks when he’s just moving about the apartment and you cross paths, but he prefers to kiss you properly. But each time, no matter where he kisses you or where you two are, he’s putting so much love in them.
Other than the lips, Reid loves kissing you on top of his head. Being as tall as he is, it’s very difficult to be taller than him. Which makes this the ideal spot for him. On the other hand, he loves when you kiss his neck and chest. There is just something so intimate about the placement that he can’t get enough of. And it doesn’t help that he flushes the prettiest pink when he’s blushes as you pepper kisses down his bare neck and chest.
L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)
Have you seen him with Henry? Those kids don’t stand a chance with him as their dad. Spencer is getting them involved with all things geeky, nerdy, and studious before they can walk or talk. I’m serious, he’s got a book called, “Baby’s Quantum Physics”. This man is getting them started young. He also learns American Sign Language so that they can communicate with their parents easier before speaking.
He’s also reading them the same books that his mom read to him when he was a child. And while he wants his kids to like the same things he does, he also respects them if they have other interests, like sports. While he can’t really participate, he’ll read about all about it and gladly talk history with them.
Make him a girl dad, and he will gladly introduce positive female role models into his daughter’s life, like Marilyn Monroe, or Marie Curie. Oh, and he doesn’t complain about tea parties, princess dress up, makeovers, or hair days. And yes, before you ask, Spencer is learning how to do all sorts of hairstyles for his daughter.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
This honestly depends.
If he’s home, and doesn’t have work that day, everything is slow. The fastest thing he does that morning is making coffee for the both of you. He leaves you in bed, makes the delicious nectar of the gods, and puts it on a tray to bring back to you. Spencer slips underneath the covers, and happily helps you sit up to also enjoy your beverage; made just the way you like. With no schedule to keep, he just enjoys staying in bed with nothing to do except read and spend time with you.
If he’s got work, he’ll be going fast. Reid loves to sleep in, but that comes at a cost most mornings. In order to get to work, he’s got to time the metro just right. He’ll make a coffee to go, and leave yours in a thermos to keep it at the perfect temperature for when you wake up.
N = Nights (How are nights spent with them?)
Again, we’ve got a few different ways this can play out.
He’s home, without work, it’s a slow evening just like the morning. Making dinner is a team endeavor, with both of you retiring to the couch to binge watch a new docu-series he found, talking about different facts that relate to it and providing an additional point of view. It’s comfy, peaceful, and just lovely.
If he’s home, but he’s had a day at work without leaving for a case, he is usually home right about the time you finish up dinner. By the time he gets changed and is in a much comfier state, the food is ready to go on the coffee table along with drinks and silverware. Spencer tends to be a little bit quieter on these nights, but he still wants to talk about your day with you. Asking about his day is a hit or miss. Sometimes he will talk about his day, the antics in the office or a few details from his short cases. Sometimes, he’ll brush everything off, knowing that he’ll talk to you about it eventually.
But if he’s getting back from a long case, domestic or in another state, he’s quiet. Usually because he’s getting back in the wee hours of the night, bordering on the next morning. His bones are heavy, his heart heavier, but he manages to pull his tie and shoes off before collapsing into bed next to you, not bothering to remove anything else.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Spencer is definitely the type to slowly reveal things about himself. Now, not to say that once he gets comfy with you, he won’t trauma dump occasionally, but in the beginning, he’s very careful. The last thing he wants is for you to get scared off by him or his past. But when he does reveal things, it’s usually in the safety of his apartment once he’s had some food and perhaps a glass of wine. Although the wine is not but once in a blue moon.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
This man is the pinnacle of patience. He gets frustrated easily, don’t mistake it. But he’s not very quick to anger. The only time he’s getting angry is when his family is threatened in some fashion, and that includes you. But his job has taught him that he needs to tamp down on those bouts of anger in order to be the best brainiac he can be.
Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
You’re kidding right? He makes sure to read receipts when you two go out together to make sure that eidetic memory works properly. Reid can remember things by sound alone but he likes to be doubly sure. He makes sure to remember every little thing about you. And if someone asks if you like something? Prepare to get yapped at by this man.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
The first double date he had with Morgan and Savannah with you on his arm. He couldn’t believe how Morgan immediately welcomed you into the fold, Savannah too. Spencer valued Morgan’s opinion so much, so to know that he instantly loved you almost as much as Spencer did… that was enough to know that he had found the one.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Quite protective. I mean he is an FBI agent; this man knows things. He’s got a security alarm set once you move in as a precaution. Reid will hopefully convince you to take a firearms course so that you can conceal carry at least. If not, he’s leaving a gun where you can reach it, just in case.
For him though, Spencer just needs you to be there for him. Emotional security is what he needs in his life. Physical is fine; he carries a gun everywhere, knows how to fight, has been to prison. There is a void though in the emotional department that he desperately needs to be filled.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; it depends. Spencer never wants to put date nights on nights where he knows that he’s going to be exhausted. He prefers to have time to plan stuff like that. Anniversaries would have to take into account his job. Usually the first Friday or Saturday after he gets back from a case, if he was gone for it, is the makeup date. Although there is a standing Thursday date night every week that could be for anything. Gifts are carefully selected and maybe made if he’s making you something he’s knitting.
And, come on. Spencer is going to show you he loves you each time you’re together, no matter how mundane the task. Especially in the grocery store. He’s in charge of the list because you will miss something to get that his brain won’t.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
One particularly bad habit is his propensity to belittle himself. If he’s joking that’s different. But, late at night, when he’s feeling vulnerable and scared, that’s when you need to come in and tell him otherwise.
His other bad habit is not eating. The receptionist in the lobby of Quantico has come to know your face and name very quickly. She also knows exactly who to buzz you in for, and why you’re there based off of the heavy sigh that leaves you the second you get inside.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Not terribly, but it wasn’t always like that. In the beginning, he was super worried about how you would respond to how he looked. Spencer was aware that he was not the most conventionally attractive man in the world, his tie was perpetually crooked, and he couldn’t get his hair under control.
But once he started dating you, Reid realized that you didn’t want hm to change the way he looked, which really helped with his self esteem. And having you in his apartment to help straighten out his tie in morning also helped.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
If you were gone, he would be devastated. It didn’t matter if you were dead or just too far, Spencer was hoping that you were right there with him. If you were dead, Reid would mourn you for a long while, and even after he was out of that phase, he’s remembering you through the small things.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
You being of a different culture than American would be a joy for him. He’d love to learn all about your native culture; the food, language, and different cultural practices. Anything to better understand you and your family. Especially if your parent’s first language isn’t English. The first time he meets them, he’s greeting them in their mother tongue, which makes them very, very excited.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Germs, though he does get better. He also can’t stand people who talk or sing loudly during things like movies or musicals. Spencer understands that it’s part of the experience, just don’t do it too loud, ya know?
In a partner, if you shut him down in the middle of his factoid ramble, he gets quiet after. He’s so used to everyone else doing it to him, but not you.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)
This man sleeps like the dead. He enjoys being able to sleep in, and going to bed early. Sleep is so hard to come by when he’s out on a case so it’s nice when he gets a little extra at home. And Spencer LOVES naps. Give this man a nap, and he’s ready to go for the rest of the day. Coffee and then a nap? Perfection. Coffee plus nap plus cuddles from you? Match made in heaven.
50 notes · View notes
stagprongs · 2 days ago
Text
SIRIUS BLACK & the motorcycle mishap (ft 70s music)
(the ultimate modern family inspired marauders drabble that we didn’t know we needed?)
alright here it goes -
The day sirius black brought his new motorcycle, he took it for a ride ….and never came back
okay fine. HE CAME BACK. His amazing ride started out great..but approx 15 minutes later— sirius black was flat on his back, pinned under the bike. And I kid you not—this is what he’s saying while recording himself on phone with no signal-
—‘’If I had to make a playlist for being stuck under a motorcycle, it’d be… uh… ‘I’m in Love with My Car’ by Queen, ‘Highway Star’ by Deep Purple, ‘Ride a White Swan’ by T. Rex… maybe throw in ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA because let’s face it, I’m fabulous even while pinned to the ground.”
Then he takes a dramatic pause, squints up at the sky, and says:
— “Turns out today wasn’t the first day of the rest of my life. today isn’t the day I ride off into the sunset. Today’s the day I get defeated by a two-wheeled beast and—Merlin’s beard—is that oil on my pants? These are new!”
— “Oh, my goodness. There’s some DVDs in a shoe box in, uh, my closet that I was holding for… a buddy. Um, moony you can go ahead and just throw the whole box away.” 
At one point, he tries to summon his wand to levitate the bike off, but it’s just out of reach. Cue him grumbling:
— Sirius groaned, patting the bike. “You need a name—something loud. Flashy. Unapologetic. He smirked. “Freddie Mercury. Perfect.” Freddie if we make out of this i am painting flames on you
And the best part? He has snacks in his pocket
— “ I am so hungry. i don’t know how long i am gonna be out here. I gotta ration my food.”
Cue to him rationing his CHOCOLATE FROGS.He unwraps one dramatically and bites into it before choking and muttering:
— “No almonds! I said NO ALMONDS!”
Honestly, someone send help—or don’t. At this point, he’s making a playlist in his head and humming ‘Starman’ like it’s his last day on earth.
Meanwhile, James and Remus are back at home debating whether Sirius has found a pub or died dramatically.
James: “He’s probably at a pub or something wrecking chaos.” Remus: “Or he’s dead.” James: “Then he’d haunt us. Either way, we’ll hear from him.”
But after another hour? They go looking. They hadn’t heard from sirius in hours which way too long for a guy who usually disappears and comes back with a ridiculously long story about getting into a bar fight with werewolf (James swears it was all remus’s fault but that’s beside the point). So they set off to track him down and after a bit of searching they find him
On the ground.Still pinned.Still talking to himself.
Sirius: “Oh, thank Merlin. Help’s here. Thought I’d have to eat my socks.” James: “You’re under your bike?” Sirius: “No, no. With my bike. Bonded.” Remus: “How long have you been like this?” Sirius: “Long enough to reevaluate my entire life. And start a band. It’s called ‘Sirius and the Sidecars.’” James: “We’re levitating it off you now.” Sirius: “WAIT. Not yet—I need to finish my goodbye message. I am recording my final moments” Remus: “To who?” Sirius: “To the world, Moony.” James: “Final moments? You’ve been under there for, what, an hour? If you die from a bad snack choice or the bike…I’ll consider it a mercy killing” Sirius: “Mercy killing? It’s art prongs, Art. It’s not about the destination—it’s the journey”
Eventually, they lift the bike, but Sirius immediately points at it—dented, greasy, and barely upright—and goes —“Okay, but picture it—with flames.”
James laughs so hard he falls over, and Remus mutters something about “natural selection being way too slow.”
youtube
the modern family episode i took reference from lol
49 notes · View notes
mysterymachine9 · 2 days ago
Text
Dean Winchester x gn!reader
Summary: He needs your help to cum/ can’t get himself to 😞
NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read ❌
Hi 😁
Tumblr media
Uhhh
Dean was propped up on the bed. Legs spread slightly and tangled in a blanket while his hand work quickly on his cock. Soft grunts filled the dim lit room. Along with the squelching sound that was made when his hand collected more of the leaking pre from his tip.
He couldn’t get himself to cum. No matter what he did. He tried thinking of you, what you’d do or say if you were in the room with him. But it didn’t work, because it wasn’t really you. He didn’t want to bother you either. That is due to you working on finding more lore on this new creature non of you can explain. And that’s important. But he needed you. Needed you in so many ways he couldn’t explain.
Moving his hips, he tried to get some relief. It didn’t work. All he continued to get was this dull, pleasurable feeling. And it wasn’t enough.
He groaned frustratingly, putting his head back. A call wouldn’t hurt, right? Maybe all he needed was the sound of your voice. But then his mind roamed and soon enough dropped that idea. He moved his hand again—starting to thumb at his tip. It worked for a few seconds, a moan slipping past his lips. Dean moved his hips into his hand, thumb starting to do quick circles. The face he was making at the moment, oh, he knew you’d enjoy it.
His stomach tightened, and for a moment he thought he’d actually get to cum. But for some reason he still couldn’t. So he let his hand drop and his head go back once again. “God damn it.” He breathed out, chest moving up and down quickly as his other hand reached for his phone. He wasn’t gonna walk out of his room with a boner. Calling you is easier.
Dean worked quick to find your contact. Immediately clicking on it, calling you, and putting it onto his ear once it started ringing.
Meanwhile, you were deep into the lore of this mysterious thing. Trying to figure out what it was and how to kill it. Just as you went to turn the page your phone buzzed against the table. You picked it up looking at the contact name first. It glowed the name “Dean”. Rolling your eyes you answered it, putting it up to your ear.
“Dean?” You question, because what could possibly be so important at the moment other than the lore on this thing?
And oh, just the sound of your voice nearly made him cum right then and there. “I need your help.” Dean said sounding like he just ran a marathon. He hoped that you’d comply.
“With?”
“Personal problem.”
Sighing, you made sure to keep the book open to the page you left off at. You mumbled the words that he just said quietly to yourself. Questioning what it meant. Then it clicked. You put the small pieces you had together. “I’ll be there in a moment.” You say, biting back a small smile and waiting until you heard something till you hung up. And all you heard was a quiet ‘okay’.
Getting up from your seat, you grabbed everything you needed. Then started your walk to his room. Dean was growing inpatient with every minute you took. But when you opened the door he got so damn excited.
When you saw the situation you quickly got into the room and shut the door behind you. “So this was your ‘personal problem’, huh?” You asked, pretending as if you didn’t know. You set the few things you had on you on his dresser, then made your way to the bed and stood at the foot of it. God, he looked pathetic. A man that many people and monsters fear, right at the palm of your hand. Lying on the bed waiting for you to do something. Your eyes roamed his body. Admiring him.
“Gonna keep staring or what?” Dean asked, impatiently. “I’m gonna take my time.” You replied while moving over to the side of the bed. He watched every move you made. Especially when you moved onto the bed, and soon enough onto him. You sat atop his thighs, hand on one side of his face. Leaning in to kiss him while your other hand moved to drag down his chest.
Dean leaned in—one hand going to your hip while the other was up on your side. You pulled away from his lips; catching your breath. The hand that was on his stomach moved lower and lower till you met his cock. He watched you for a moment, but when he realized you weren’t gonna give him what he wanted that easily, he moved his face into the side of your neck. Placing kisses everywhere he could reached.
“Come on, please. I waited as long as I could.” Dean whispered, and you could tell that he was being truthful. Based on the way he sounded on the phone and how he looked right now. And so you gave him what he needed. Wrapping your hand around his cock, and slowly starting to pump your hand.
He pressed himself more into your shoulder than neck—trying to keep himself quiet. Your hand that was on the side of his face moved to the back of his head. And his hands on you only tightened.
When you tightened your grip and went quicker, Dean’s hands went fully around you. Arms locking around your body. He moved his head down to look at the way your hand moved around his cock. Your other hand coming down to put feather like touches on his tip with your finger.
In response, he gasped and shut his mouth before he could moan loudly. “C’mon, Dean, lemme hear you.” You whispered as you replaced your finger with your thumb. Spreading his pre while you rubbed his tip quickly; applying pressure to add on to the overwhelming feeling. He rolled his hips, wanting more and more. You pressed a few kisses on his shoulder before pulling away. An idea striking your mind.
You wanted to hear him. To hear the prettiest moans and whimpers fall from his lips. But he kept himself hidden in your neck. So you pulled a hand away, wiping the pre you had on you on the bed. An issue for another time. Then reached for the hairs down by his neck. Pulling them.
You weren’t pulling too hard, but hard enough for him to come out of hiding. And when he was finally out, you slowed down the hand that was on his cock. Hearing a huff once you did. He must’ve been close.
Dean didn’t beg. But if he had to beg to get what he needed, he’d do just that.
“Baby, please—can I cum?” He swallowed the spit that formed in his mouth, then continued. “I can’t wait any longer, please.” And that did just it. You decided to give in, have mercy on the poor man. You don’t know how long he’d been trying to get himself to cum before calling you. So, with you being generous, started to pump your hand again quickly. Hearing a small whine leave his throat and echo in the room. Dean shut his eyes, and when he heard your praise and words he almost came. “So good for me, aren’t you? Waited as long as you could before giving me a call.” You said, softly.
And when he bucked his hips with a whimper you knew that was the only warning you were getting. Hot spurts of cum shot from his cock and onto his chest. Panting and moans being the only thing that stopped the room from being silent.
You kept your hand going, helping him through the aftershocks of cumming. Only pulling away when he sucked in a breath from the rising pain. “Thank you.” Dean breathed out, sounding fulfilled. “Of course.” You replied moving in to kiss his lips.
“Now, since I’ve helped you, will you help me and Sam read these books about these damn things?” You asked, laughing when Dean groaned and let his head fall to your shoulder.
46 notes · View notes
yall-batman-fanfic · 8 hours ago
Text
Hiya Mom! | BatFamily x Reader!Magician
Synopsis: A montage of the many times the Batfamily starts a call with “Hiya, Mom!” to Vivian, and she knows exactly what it’s for.
Tumblr media
No coffee, no cereal, no orange or milk.
When was the last time he went grocery shopping, Dick thought as he slammed his refrigerator door closed. Even his cupboards were empty of anything. What surprised him more is the fact there weren’t any more leftovers for him to eat!
Maybe he should just call for pizza.
Yeah, he’ll just pizza.
Like a cornflakes pizza.
Or…
Taking his phone he went through his contacts and saw the very first person on the emergency contacts list and dialed.
“Dick?” Vivian greeted at the otherline. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“Hiya, Mom!” Dick said with an upbeat tone. Maybe he was too upbeat. “Tsk, so how is… how are things?”
Silence.
Then a sigh.
“It’s six in the morning, I haven’t gotten out of bed–Bruce is here with me, shocker—”
“What do you mean by that?” Dick heard Bruce at the background.
“It means it’s either you got home early from patrol last night or you didn’t. So, what’,” he heard a snap of a finger.
Appearing at his table was a huge bowl of cereal with milk already, a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee, then a waffle at the side. 
“Thanks, Mom,” Dick grinned.
“No problem, kiddo. I’ll head over to Bludhaven to help you grocery shopping after work. Now, can I go back to bed? My first class doesn’t start until ten.”
“Yeah, yeah! Thanks! Bye!”
~ * ~
Jason would never call for an SOS if he had the situation within the control of his finger tips. But this one. This was way out of his control and he and Roy were out of ammo while these fuckers had a machine gun. Correction. Machine guns stationed at every exit point. 
“So, what now?” Roy asked. “I’m out of arrows now.”
Jason got out his phone. “Backup.”
“You didn’t tell me we had backup—and you’re calling your Mom.”
“Hi, baby bird,” Roy pressed his ear at the other side of Jason’s phone to hear Vivian’s voice. “Is that gun fire I hear?”
“Hiya, Ma! Gunfire? Just a little,” Jason said with a sweet and upbeat tone that made Roy turn to his best friend with a pointed look. Where did that come from? “So, how are things in Gotham?”
“That sounds like a lot of guns,” Alfred pointed out. 
Was he on speaker?
“Am I on speaker?” Jason asked.
“No, the guns are just really loud,” Vivian answered.
“HI, MRS. P!” Roy called out making Jason wince.
They heard Vivian laugh. “Hi Roy, glad to hear you. Both of you.”
“Listen, Ma, I was thinking maybe —”
Snap.
The gunfire stopped.
Jason grinned. “Thanks, Ma! I’ll get you something on my way back!” 
“Goodluck on the rest of the mission, baby bird! Love ya!”
“Love you too!” Jason and Roy said and the call ended.
“Hey, do you think I can also start calling her Ma and have her on speed dial?” Roy asked Jason.
“What? No! I’m the only one who gets to call her Ma!”
~ * ~
Tim couldn’t move. All he can do was use the voice command on his phone.
“Call Viv,” Tim told the phone.
Calling Viv-Mom
A few rings.
“Tim, why are you  calling at this hour?” Vivian’s voice sounded like he disturbed her sleep. It was past midnight. Bruce went on patrol and gave Red Robin the night off. He was supposed to be in bed to catch some sleep but he snuck back to the Cave and did more work. Now he was greatly regretting the seventy-two hours of no-sleep he’s been doing.
“Hiya, Mom,” he tried to say.
A sigh.
The call ended.
“Viv?”
“Okay, Detective,” he felt her hand on his shoulder, then hauled it over hers so she could help him walk. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Thanks, Viv,” he muttered. “I should have just stayed in bed.”
“I told you. It’s why Batman gave you the night off.”
“I know.”
“Okay, let’s get you to bed.”
“Can we get a snack first?” 
“No. Bed, Tim. Go to bed.”
~ * ~
There was something that Dick said about his stepmother’s “Mom senses” that Damian didn’t really believe to be true until now. Dick said that if he said this specific phrase, Vivian would pop out of nowhere or the thing you want would pop out of nowhere instantly. Damian, at first, didn’t use that phrase because he wanted to prove to them all that he doesn’t need theri help. Especially hers. Later on, when things between him and Vivian were getting better, he didn’t want to use the magic phrase because he still doesn’t want to ask for help.
Then Tim said something that made sense—but he won’t tell Tim that. 
“It’s like asking for help without really saying help. It’s like Batman and Superman’s banana muffin safeword.”
But this one? All it takes is one call and –
“Sweety, what’s got you calling me at this hour?” Vivian asked. “Aren’t you at school in class?”
“I was,” Damian muttered, he was under the bleachers hiding from teachers and hall monitors. He didn’t know why but he was. Maybe it had something to do with Talia’s visit to his school earlier. “I — Hiya, Mom.”
The call ended, but as soon as it did he saw the familiar pair of boots standing on the ground before him. Vivian squatted down with a soft smile on her face. 
“Hey, wanna talk about it?”
“Later.”
“Okay, let’s just sit here then,” Vivian sat on the grass beside him. “I was thinking… maybe we could play hooky today.”
“What?”
“Skip school? Head to the arcade and play Cheese Vikings then get cheese overload nachos,” She nudged his elbow with a teasing smile. “Wouldn’t hurt if we did.”
“What about your work?”
“I’ll give them free period. My son needs me more.”
Damian smiled. “I would like that.”
“Okay, when you’re ready I can head back, get my car and drive back here and tell them that I’ll be taking my son out for the day because he’s not feeling too well.”
Damian leaned on Vivian and held her hand. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, Sweetheart.”
~  *  ~
Cassandra wasn’t one for words and she rarely uses the “Hiya, Mom!” phrase, but when she does it would always be at the manor. 
Walking to Vivian’s study in Wayne Manor, Cassandra knocked on the door before entering the room. Good idea, because when she went in, Bruce was just stepping away from Vivian after asking for a kiss.
“Cassie, what’s up?” Vivian asked, fixing her shirt.
Cassandra raised the tickets she hid in her pocket and said, “Hiya, Mom!”
Bruce chuckled at the phrase, remembering all the times Vivian got that from the others. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Have fun in the ballet.”
“We will,” Vivian grabbed her jacket and purse then joined Cassandra.
“Let’s go,” she hooked her arm around her daughter and they both left for their day out.
~ * ~
Duke doesn’t really call Vivian “mom”, so when he made the first “Hiya, Mom” to her it was: “Hiya, Mrs. P!”
“What happened, Bud?” Vivian asked.
“Sticky situation with Considements man.”
“You’re at school now, right?”
“Right but Signal ran into him. Now my uniform’s.”
Snap.
The stain on his school uniform disappeared. 
“Thanks, Viv!” 
“No problem. Hope Signal took care of Condiments Man, though. I’m wearing white today.”
“Yeah, got him to GCPD. But don’t take 15th heading to GU.”
“Noted. Thanks, buddy!”
Huh, they weren’t joking around about it. It does work. If only that phrase can also work for his test later.
~ * ~
Terry McGinnis has heard many things from the older and, some, retired members of the mask-and-tights-gang (Valerie’s words). From their tales of adventure, the code names, the code phrases. All were interesting and on point with their brand as the Bat Family, then there was the “Hiya, Mom!”
“Wait, you’re joking, right?” He said to her.
“Yeah, it works,” Valerie said, taking a drink from her coffee. “It worked for me when I needed an extraction when I hunted down Falcone and Maroni’s men after they put a hit on the family. Mom wasn't too happy when she got me though. She and Dad… actually, all of them weren’t.”
“So, Hiya Mom is the code for backup?”
“Yeah,” Valerie shrugged as if it were the most normal thing. “It throws them off guard.”
“In any situation.”
“Field,” Valerie counted with her fingers. “School. Work. Bad dates. Wrong meetups. You get the gist.”
“Thanks, I’ll take note of that. Wow, I didn’t know you guys had that code phrase for “backup”, always thought the Batman can do everything.”
“Oh, we use that a lot.”
Oh she got him good.
For the next few nights, Batman got the reputation of calling for “Mommy” when he was in trouble. Many of the criminals started teasing Terry about it too.
“I hate you,” Terry told Valerie through the comms. “Just get your ass here Mom!”
Valerie’s laughter came beside him where he hid behind the crates. She wore the Red Bat mask with the black tactical gear with the red leather coat. 
“Your Mommy finally here to help you out, Batman?” The goon called out, mocking him.
Terry hit his head on the crate.
“Break the suit and you’re running laps,” Bruce’s voice came through the comms.
“She started it!” Terry pointed at Valerie.
Valerie laughed even more.
“Both of you,” Bruce said in a stern voice, making them sit up straight. “Stop messing around. You’re in the line of fire! Valerie, stop teasing Terry. And from now on the hiya Mom code is for family use only. Not in the field.”
Valerie scoffed. “How come Jay gets to use it?”
“Because he doesn’t give a shit about his image.”
“And you do?” Terry raised a brow.
“Do you want Batman to be called a Mama’s boy?”
“No.”
“Then…”
“No more hiya mom on the field,” Valerie and Terry said.
“MAMA’S BOY!” The goons teased them.
“SHUT UP!” Valerie threw a smoke bomb at them.
Bruce rubbed his temples and sighed in defeat. Another improvisation brought by his daughter and Terry’s childish antics.
“I heard the call,” Vivian joined his side. “And I saw the tabloids about Batman being a Mama’s boy.”
“Great,” Bruce muttered.
“They’ll be fine,” Vivian handed him his medication.
“How come it’s only mom they have on speed dial and never me?”
Vivian smirked, “Because they know I won’t judge them and be a total ass to them.”
“Right.”
Leaning down, she placed a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “We still love you, Batman.”
“MOM!” Valerie and Terry called out.
Looking at the Batcomputer, Bruce and Vivian saw the large weapon pointed at the two vigilantes.
“Right,” Vivian snapped her fingers and the weapons suddenly stopped working. “Good luck with being a Mama’s boy, Batman.”
Bruce groaned and head his head at the back of his seat.
35 notes · View notes
lady-lostmind · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Oh, fuck.
Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Heat/Rut and Main Card Prompt: Oh. Oh.
Rating: E | WC: 1179 | CW: A/B/O, Steve and Eddie are completely lucid when they consent in this regardless of Steve going into heat.
Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!
“Oh, no. No–no. Not now–” Steve groans in the back of Eddie’s van, hunched over and clutching at his stomach. 
Eddie’s eyes go wide as he flicks between Steve’s pained face and the road he’s whipping down. “What? What’s wrong? That doesn’t sound good! What–” Eddie’s mouth drops open with a whimper as he’s slapped in the face with the most delicious, sweet scent he’s ever smelled. 
Steve looks up and locks eyes with him, clearly mortified and scared. “I’m sorry, Eds. I’m so, so sorry.” 
Eddie looks back at him, confused. He shakes his head. “Steve, what–” And then it hits him. Really hits him. “Oh. Oh fuck.”  He slams on the breaks, pulling them off on the side of the road and turning to face Steve fully. “Please tell me this is not what I think it is.” But– it is. He knows it is. The tent forming in his pants absolutely knows it is. 
Steve lets out another groan of pain. “It’s early.”
Eddie scrambles to the back of the van and peers out the back window. No sign of anything catastrophic catching up with them yet. But they’re supposed to be the distraction. It was working. Vecna was sending all he has after them and now– 
Eddie turns back to Steve reaching out, hands hovering just above his shoulders. “What do we do?” 
Steve looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Make it stop. Please.” 
Eddie sucks in a deep breath his brain running a loop of ‘fuck–fuck–fuck–fuck.’ He shakes his head. “Steve. I can’t–” 
Steve whines, collapsing forward in pain. “I need you, Eds. Please.” 
Eddie looks out the window again and sees dark red filling the sky behind them. “Shit. We have to get out of here, Steve. I don’t know what to do. What do we do?” 
Steve looks up with him with pain filled, desperate eyes. “Knot me.” 
Eddie’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping open with a gasp and his treacherous dick fucking throbs. Everything he’s wanted for the last year is being offered up on a platter but– “Like this?” He gestures around frantically at the van. The situation. Because, seriously, how the fuck is this supposed to work.
Steve scoots forward and grabs Eddie’s hand tightly, glancing between him and the impending doom steadily coming toward them. “We need to get out of here. And the next step requires us being quiet–” He lets out another pained groan and then huffs out a laugh. “I don’t think I’m very capable of that right now.” 
Eddie shakes his head. “No, we can figure something else out! I’m not going to make you–”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Eds, come on.”
Eddie scoffs. “Come on, what? I’m not going to fuck you just because it’ll shut you up. That’s not how I–” He sighs, shaking his head, trying not to show how much it’s killing him to say no.
Steve tugs on Eddie’s hand, getting him to focus on him. “It’s not how I was hoping it would happen either, but–”
“Wait–wait–wait. You want me to–?” Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “Like, in a normal circumstance when your life doesn’t potentially depend on it,  you’d still…want to?”
Steve stares at him like he’s an idiot. “I mean, yeah. I thought we–” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls away. “I’m sorry if I read this wrong. But either way, I mean–” He gestures around, clearly annoyed. “We’re kind of running out of options here.” 
Eddie drops down next to Steve and cups his face, staring into his eyes. “Of course I want you, sweetheart. I just didn’t think you–” Eddie sighs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” He glances over his shoulder. “But I’m still not sure how–” 
Steve cries out, doubling over again. “Fuck! Please, Eds.”
Eddie nods, stroking his thumb over Steve’s jaw. “Okay. Okay.”  He tilts Steve’s head up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “When this is over, I’m going to do this right.But for now–” Eddie reaches down to pop the button on his jeans open. 
Steve sighs with relief as he leans back and does the same, both of them quickly shedding their clothes. As soon as Steve’s pants are off, a wave of his scent hits Eddie and a growl works its way out of his chest. “Fuck, Stevie.” He lunges forward, his fingers dipping into Steve immediately, coming away covered in his slick. 
Steve whines and clutches at Eddie’s shoulders, climbing into his lap and sinking down on his– “OH FUCK. Oh shit. You feel so good.” 
Steve sighs as he settles on Eddie with a soft moan and presses his nose into Eddie’s neck, breathing deeply. Eddie’s hips jut up on their own accord, making them both shudder, pleasure rolling over them in waves. 
Eddie locks eyes with Steve and cups his face. “We have to make this quick. You ready?”
Steve nods, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulders tightly. Eddie takes a deep breath and flips them over, slamming down into Steve as hard as he can with a low groan before pulling back and setting a quick pace, hurtling them toward the finish line as quickly as possible. He watches as Steve’s eyes go glassy, his body getting more and more relaxed as he lets Eddie take over and take the pain away. Eddie can feel his knot start to pop. Feels it start catching on every thrust until– “FUCK.” He slams in one last time, locking them together as they both fall over, Steve clenching down around him as he whines into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and leans them back so Steve ends up in his lap again. He glances out the window, his heart beating even faster when he sees the red looming ever closer. “Shit. Okay.” 
Eddie taps the side of Steve’s leg. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” Steve shifts his legs weakly, but manages to lock his ankles behind Eddie’s back. “Good job. You’re doing so good.” He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, smiling a little when he nuzzles in closer to his neck. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to focus. Trying to focus on the whole outrun certain doom thing instead of being inside Steve still. Which is honestly no easy feat since he’s pretty sure this is exactly how he wants to die anyway and– right. Focus. 
Eddie hikes Steve further up on his hips, getting an arm under him and kind of shuffling them to the front of the van. He pulls them up into the seat, rubbing his hand over Steve’s back when he whimpers from the movement. “Sorry, sorry. I have to get us moving.” 
Steve settles in his lap again with a content sigh, Eddie shakes his head as he tries to figure out how he’s going to drive with Steve on top of him. “Jesus H. Christ. This is insane.” He throws the van in drive and slams his foot on the gas, groaning when it shifts Steve on his lap. 
32 notes · View notes
k1mbe3rly · 2 hours ago
Note
Could you do something with sub namgyu maybe? Like he gets forced into submission
yess🥵🥵 LMFAOO sorry i was crashing out for hours but im back in mind 🙄 out of sight out of mind 😈
Desperate
warnings: smut, sub!namgyu x fem!dom reader, begging, slight leg humping (out of squid games)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Nam-gyu just came home from his job as a club promoter, he sighed as he looked over seeing you on the couch on your phone, he’s guessing you also just came home from work which you did, despising your wrinkled white button up t shirt untucked from your knee above skirt
He went up from behind the couch and looking over your shoulder, “Hey i’m home” he said whispering in your ear, you weren’t really in the mood since you had a bad day at work so you kinda brushed him off and just nodded, he looked over at you in confusion
He hummed as he moved your hair the other side of your side and nuzzled his face in your neck inhaling your scent, he smirked softly as he begin kissing your neck, “Can you stop? i’m not really in the mood..” you said as you sighed, “Than i’ll turn your frown..upside down” he said chuckling at his own joke and kept kissing your neck slightly sucking on it
“I’m serious Nam-gyu.. not today okay? maybe tomorrow” you said trying to move away but he placed his hands on your shoulder, “Come on..it’ll be fun. I promise baby” he said licking your neck a bit, you groaned and shoved his face away as he whined out and went around the couch and sitting next to you, “What? what’s wrong huh? your usually so needy” he said looking at you, you crossed your arms and looked at him
“Okay well not today, i had a bad day at work.” you said lazily. He hummed a simple understanding, “I can.. change that” he said quietly a bit, you raised your eyebrow and smirked softly “and how are you gonna do that huh?” you said sitting up a bit, “Let me do my job, you’ll be satisfied..” he said slowly getting on his knees infront of you.
He slowly opened your legs and traveled his hands to the edge of your skirt, you quickly gripped on his wrist with a serious expression, “You really don’t know when to stop huh. i told you i wasn’t in the mood didn’t i?” you said still gripping his wrist, he winced slightly “Baby- chill! i’m sorry.” he said scrunching his eyebrows a bit, “Show me your sorry.” you said releasing his wrist as he got up, he smirked a bit
He unbuckled his pants getting rid of his belt and unbuttoning his pants, before pulling them down he grabbed both your legs spreading them and again putting his hands in your skirt, you quickly stopped him again “No. your not gonna fuck me, find another way.. or beg for it.” you said closing your legs, he looked at you with a confused face “Seriously? but that’s not even my place!” he said, “excuse me? either that or you get nothing” you said back, he scoffed “I’m not begging! you know how.. dumb I’ll look!?” he said, “fine by me, i’m not the one trying to have sex” you said shrugging and going back to your phone. He sighed and sat down.
It didn’t take long for him to give in or whatever, so that’s how he ended up on the floor, whining for you, and humping your leg without any pants on, he moved his hips against your leg, his clothed cock rubbing against you. “Please..? i’m sorry okay? can i please just fuck you?” he said still keeping his movements against you, you faked a yawned “boring..babe i don’t know..im getting kinda sleepy..” you said, he whined out again a almost cry and choked out whine “Baby please! i need you! please!! i’ll do all the work i swear! i just need to be inside you!” he said clinging on to your leg, he quickly moved off your leg, picking up one leg and kissing down to your heels.
He slowly took off your heel, kissing your foot a bit (bare with me 😢🙏), and he kissed back up, he went your other leg doing the exact same and placing your heels somewhere else, he than looked up at you “Please? its the most you can do..” he said, “The most i can do?” you questioned. “not like that! baby please! please im begging like you said!” he said whining, “fine..you can only eat me out, than i’ll see how i feel after.” you said ruffling his hair that became a bit messy, he quickly lifted your skirt high enough and slid your panties off
he smiled up at you “Thank you..” he whispered as he spread your legs and quickly put his head between giving your clit a kiss, and slowly sucked on it, you let out a moan as he kept sucking on your clit, he said licked on it, be moved his tongue around and inside, you moaned out shutting your eyes putting your legs on his shoulders, he held onto your thighs as he continued eating you out, you kept moaning and gasping as your hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging on his hair, he let out a low growl and kept e shoving his tongue and managed suck a bit on your clit, he than rubbed your clit with his thumb, soft slurping sounds and moans filled the room as you finally cummed inside his mouth as he swallowed, he cleaned your cunt with his tongue and finally backed up gasping. “Holy fuck baby.. you taste so good” he said looking up and wiping his mouth a bit, you were a bit dumb founded.
“mm-…” you mumbled out, not long after you were riding him on the couch, your hands on his shoulders moaning as nam-gyu moaned, honestly first time hearing him moan was magical, so adorable and it turned you on even more, he gripped on your hips letting out choked gasps and moans, “a-agh~ fuckk baby..s-so tight!!” he moaned out, you moaned out as you begin bouncing on him your tits bouncing inside your button up shirt, he slowly traveled his hands to the buttons and begin unbuttoning them and pulled down your bra and gripped on your tits, he kept moaning out and leaned in whining and moaning into your neck, “Mm! m’gonna cum baby! can i? can i cum inside you baby please!” he panted out as he played with your tits a bit, i felt his cock twitch inside me “Yea- fuck~ cum with me baby! cum inside me” you said as you bounced a tad bit faster, “augh~!! mm- m’cummingggfhh~!” he basically yelled out as he cummed inside you and quickly after you did as well, you slowed down panting as his cum and yours mixed together.
after you both calmed down you slowly lifted your self and went to the side panting as juices and cum leaked out a bit..”are you okay..?” he said to you as you nodded, yall eventually cleaned up and cuddled to sleep.
36 notes · View notes
markerofthemidnight · 10 hours ago
Note
Sense you asked for it. Rank P:EG based on what you think their cooking skills are, from amazing cook to constantly burns pots of water or something like that.
There’s Muffin, always coming in clutch for me! Well, since you asked for it, here’s a tierlist of how good I think every character is at cooking, AND my explanations as to why they’re ranked there! (under cut)
(p.s. I have not seen everyone’s FTEs, so I apologise if there are any inconsistencies with canon!)
Tumblr media
Damon: I don’t know why, I just think a meal cooked by Damon would be really shitty.
Eva: We already know from canon that Eva has a very wide skill set, so who’s to say she can’t cook, either?
Wolfgang: The man thought you were supposed to pour the entire bottle of detergent in when you’re using the washing machine. There’s no way he can cook.
Grace: She at least had the common sense to correct her boyfriend Wolfie on the above, so? I assume she’d be alright at it?
Toshiko: This needs no explanation. She is literally 14. I think she’d know a lot about food in relation to romance, since that’s her talent, but actual cooking? Likely not.
Eloise: I just get those vibes from her, y’know? She probably cooks at home with her mom or something?
Desmond: Vibes and vibes only.
Jean: You can’t be a ship captain and just… not be good at cooking! That man makes the most banger seafood dishes you’ll ever taste in your life!
Ingrid: I’m not even going to explain this.
Wenona: C’mon, she’s the pioneer of the agricultural industry. She has to be at least a little good, even if she has, I dunno, personal chefs cooking everything for her most of the time.
Cassidy: I feel like Cassidy has made a lot of, like, intentionally bad dishes. Like, during livestreams and such. She’ll stream herself making a custard-shrimp pie with added hot sauce, eat it, and then end the stream ten minutes before she throws up. It’s her way of life. Following the rules and making something good for once would be a violation of who she is.
Jett: Again, vibes. Jett is the kind of person who loves food but can’t cook to save his life.
Mark: No offence, Mark fans, but I think anything cooked by him would probably be pretty flavourless. Though, on the bright side, at least he’s not a living fire hazard like Jett is.
Kai: I mean, we know he can at least make coffee, but since this is specifically about cooking and not coffee-making… I dunno, I just put him in the middle because I can’t make up my mind.
Diana: I think she’d be very into the aesthetics of cooking but not so much making stuff that actually tastes good. She’s better at baking.
Ulysses: Good-to-okay-ish when it actually turns out well, but because of his inability to smell, goldfish memory (at least, when he doesn’t have his notebook) and tendency to fall asleep while standing up, things go wrong pretty often. At least, when he doesn’t have someone helping him out.
Tozu: I’ve got a very specific idea in my head for how good he’d be at cooking: similar to Ulysses in that everything he makes would be basically five-star, but every time he enters the kitchen there’s a very real chance that at least one thing will catch fire. High-risk, high-reward. Also similar to Cassidy in that he likes to experiment with foods that absolutely do not go together (though half the time it turns out surprisingly good).
Mara: Kinda the complete opposite of Tozu! Since I imagine she’d be a good survivalist, or otherwise be obsessed with keeping her body in the best condition possible, I think she’d be very good at cooking stuff that’s very healthy and very safe, but kind of terrible taste-wise.
22 notes · View notes
charmed-quill · 3 days ago
Text
Burrow Bound//B.W x Reader Chapter 2
a/n: okay a few things: 1) I am not American nor am I English (🐨🦘🇦🇺) so if anything is wrong don’t tell me I’ll cry. 2) I made the reader Southern cuz southern accents are so stinking cute are you joking?! 3) this is definitely going to be a slow burn since I just LOVE building character relationships, I love having relationships that feel genuine?
request: @littlegreenteacup
Could you possibly write a longer one shot (or longer if that makes more sense) for Bill Weasley x American reader where the reader is a halfblood witch who works for the natural history museum in muggle London and befriended the twins (who are the same age as her) and Charlie after getting lost looking for a shop in Diagon Alley since she’s only just moved to England. Bill is reeling suddenly being a single father after Fluer leaves and has to leave her with Molly during the day. The reader spends a fair amount of time at the Burrow but she and Bill always seem to just miss each other (much to everyone else’s amusement and frustration) and then one day he walks in to pick up Victoire after work and the reader is either holding her or playing with her or something and it’s love at first sight for him, but he’s a little bit awkward about it all and it’s slightly angsty until the dam breaks and fluff ensues.
Word count: 2.7k
Last Chapter
Next Chapter
Tumblr media
The Burrow was alive with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of dishes. Y/N stepped through the doorway into a space so warm and inviting it felt like stepping into a hug. The scent of roasted potatoes and pork mingled with the rich aroma of gravy and something sweet dancing in the air. 
The kitchen was a whirl of activity, with Molly bustling between the stove and the table, her wand directing a ladle to stir a pot while she stacked plates with practiced ease.
“Oi, Y/N!” a loud voice called out, and she spotted Fred, grinning at her from the table. He waved her over with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Saved you a seat. Right next to the charming one.”
“That’s me,” George interjected from across the table, earning an exaggerated scoff from Fred.
She made her way over, carefully weaving through the chaos of chairs and family members, trying to take in everything at once. 
A clock ticked softly in the corner, the wood-paneled walls were adorned with moving photographs, their subjects waving cheerfully at her. A stack of books teetered precariously near the fireplace, and the whole house seemed to hum.
As she sat down next to Fred, Y/N couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. 
“This place is incredible,” she murmured.
Fred smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Wait ‘til Mum gets yelling about something. Really completes the ambiance.”
“I hope you’re hungry,” he added as he handed her a plate.
“Starved,” she replied, inhaling deeply once more. The smells were intoxicating, a reminder of home-cooked meals she hadn’t realised she missed.
“Ron!” Molly’s sharp voice rang out across the kitchen. “Get your grubby fingers out of the pudding!”
Ron, mid-swipe at a bowl of something creamy and golden, froze like a deer in headlights. “I was just checking if it was done,” he mumbled, quickly retracting his hand as Molly shot him a glare.
“By sticking your fingers in it?” Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she passed him a clean spoon. “Try this. It’s called ‘not being disgusting.’”
“Enough out of you,” Ron muttered, his ears turning pink as he busied himself with a plate of bread rolls.
Arthur, seated at the head of the table, chuckled warmly. “Careful, Ron, you'll be banned from dessert.”
“I’m not banned, am I, Mum?” Ron asked quickly, shooting her a worried glance.
“That depends on how well you behave,” Molly replied, her tone stern but her eyes twinkling.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension of being an outsider slowly melt away. She leaned closer to Fred and whispered, “Does this happen every night?”
“Every meal,” he confirmed, looking far too proud of the chaos. “You’ll love it here. We specialise in entertainment.”
“Entertainment or torment?” George quipped.
“Both,” Fred replied with a grin. “We’re multi-talented.”
Molly bustled past, setting down a steaming bowl of vegetables in the center of the table. She paused to pat Y/N on the shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of noise, dear. With this lot, it’s unavoidable.”
“It’s perfect,” Y/N said sincerely, her gaze sweeping over the cozy kitchen again. 
Ginny plopped down beside George, shaking her head at her brothers. “Ignore them. They think they’re funny.”
“We are funny,” Fred corrected.
“No, you’re annoying,” she countered, snagging a roll from Ron’s plate before he could stop her.
“Hey!” Ron protested. “Get your own!”
“And miss the fun of stealing yours?” she shot back, grinning.
Molly took a seat beside her husband, smiling kindly at Y/n. 
“You better get cracking, Y/N,” Charlie called from a few seats down, his grin wide as he gestured at the food-laden table. “There’ll be nothing left if you wait much longer.”
Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his teasing, and turned her attention to the feast before her. Taking his advice, she began piling her plate with roasted pork, golden potatoes, bright green peas, tender carrots, and flaky little pastries that looked too good to resist. She finished it off with a generous ladle of thick, dark gravy, the aroma alone making her stomach growl in anticipation. The scents were heavenly, a comforting blend of herbs, roasted meat, and buttery richness that filled the room.
Her plate was a masterpiece of food, and her mouth watered just looking at it. Not knowing where to start, she scooped a little bit of everything onto her fork and took a big bite. 
The flavors hit her all at once, savory pork, perfectly seasoned vegetables, and the velvety gravy tying it all together. It was so delicious she couldn’t help but close her eyes for a moment, savoring the explosion of flavors.
“So, Y/N,” Molly began, her voice cutting gently through the hum of conversation. “What do you do for work?”
Y/N froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as all attention turned to her. She quickly chewed harder, trying to swallow without choking, and reached for her glass of water to help wash it down. Setting the glass back down, she gave a sheepish smile.
“Well,” she began, setting her fork aside. “I work at the museum here in London. Actually, I was finishing an orientation there earlier today before I ran into Charlie.”
“A museum?” Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity palpable. “Muggle museums are fascinating, so many exhibits! What do you do there?”
“I’m part of a small team of magical historians,” Y/N explained, her nerves easing under Arthur’s enthusiasm. “We make sure the artifacts No-Majs bring in aren’t cursed or magically significant before they go on display.”
“Like a curse breaker?” Ron asked, his brow furrowing in thought.
Y/N shook her head, smiling. “Not quite. Curse breakers work on a much larger scale. What we do is a lot more focused. We just ensure the items brought in are safe for No-Majs to display and study. If something turns out to be cursed or too dangerous, there’s a separate department that handles it.”
“Sounds like you’re the first line of defense,” Percy remarked, adjusting his glasses. “Cataloging magical artifacts sounds like no small task.”
“It’s definitely detail-oriented,” Y/N agreed. “Most of our job involves identifying enchantments, figuring out their purpose, and determining if they pose any risk. A lot of the time, it’s minor things, like a quill that writes by itself or a mirror that gives overly enthusiastic compliments.”
“Now that’s something I could use.” Fred interjected, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. 
“For what?” Ginny asked, rolling her eyes. “Inflating your ego even more?”
“Exactly,” George chimed in, grinning. “Fred’s confidence isn’t quite unbearable enough yet.”
The table erupted into laughter, and Y/N couldn’t help but join in, the tension in her shoulders easing.
“Have you ever found something dangerous?” Ron asked, clearly intrigued.
“A few times,” Y/N said, nodding. “We’ve had a cursed necklace that tried to strangle its owner and a painting that screamed whenever someone looked at it. But those cases are rare. Most of the time, it’s harmless, like a clay pot that sings or a book that rewrites itself depending on the reader.”
Arthur’s eyes sparkled with fascination. “Muggles have no idea how extraordinary their world becomes when it overlaps with ours. What do they make of these items?”
“They usually just think they’re quirky or broken,” Y/N said with a small laugh. “It’s amazing how easily people dismiss the magical when they don’t know it exists.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a fascinating job, dear,” Molly said warmly, her genuine smile lighting up the cozy dining area. “And an important one. It must feel good knowing you’re helping to preserve history.”
“It really does,” Y/N admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly as she set her fork down. “I’ve always loved history. My dad and I used to go to a different museum every month when I was a kid. He loved them almost as much as I did.” She paused, her eyes softening as she recalled the memories. “There’s this big magical museum in Magical New York kind of like the magical world’s version of the Smithsonian. He took me there when I turned ten, and I think that’s what really sparked my interest in it all.”
“Are both your parents magical?” Ginny asked curiously, her head tilted as she rested her chin on her hand.
Y/N shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. 
“Nah, just my dad. My mum’s a No-Maj. She’s always been supportive, though.” She chuckled, the sound soft and nostalgic. “Dad was the one who taught me all about the magical world. He always said that being a witch meant having one foot in two different worlds, and I should learn to love both.”
“That must have been an interesting way to grow up,” Arthur said, his tone tinged with admiration.
“It was,” Y/N agreed. “I grew up in a small town in Georgia, where magic wasn’t exactly common. Most of my friends were No-Majs, and my mum did her best to keep things as normal as possible. But Dad would sneak in little bits of magic here and there, a charmed broom to help clean the house, enchanted fireworks on birthdays, that kind of thing.”
Fred and George perked up at the mention of enchanted fireworks. “He sounds brilliant,” Fred said. “A man after our own hearts.”
“He really was,” Y/N replied, her smile widening. “He always wanted to visit London, though. It was on his bucket list. He loved everything about British history, both magical and No-Maj.”
“He must be thrilled you’re living here now,” Ginny said, her voice light.
Y/N hesitated, the smile faltering for just a moment. She could picture her father’s gleaming smile, the way his eyes would light up at the news.
“He would have been,” She agreed, a wave of bittersweet sadness washed over her, and she quickly took another bite of her dinner to distract herself, letting the flavors ground her.
“Would have been,” Ron said loudly, his fork clinking against his plate. “What changed?”
“Ron!” Molly chastised sharply, her voice tinged with disapproval. “Mind your manners.”
“No, it’s alright,” Y/N said gently, setting her fork down and taking a breath. “He died just after I graduated from Ilvermorny.”
The room grew quieter, the lively chatter dimming to a soft murmur. The warmth of the room seemed to hold her, a silent show of comfort.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” Molly said, her expression filled with understanding as she reached out to pat Y/N’s hand. “Losing a parent is never easy.”
“Thank you,” Y/N said, managing a small smile in return. “It was hard, but he always encouraged me to follow my dreams. Moving here felt like a way to honor him, you know? He’d have been over the moon.”
There was a quiet nod of agreement around the table, a small acknowledgment of the weight of her words. 
After a moment, Fred leaned closer, breaking the silence with his usual mischievous tone.
“Well, if your dad was as brilliant as he sounds, then he’d definitely approve of you hanging out with us.”
“Absolutely,” George chimed in. “We’re practically a historical exhibit ourselves. Living legends, really.”
Y/N chuckled, the tension in her chest easing as the table erupted into gentle laughter. Ginny rolled her eyes, and Molly shook her head with a fond smile, but the warmth radiating from the family made Y/N feel a little lighter.
As the conversation shifted and the lively energy returned to the table, Y/N took another bite of her meal, savoring the flavors. 
Slowly, the plates began to clear as Molly stood up from the table, her wand in hand. With a graceful flick, the dirty dishes floated toward the sink, clinking softly as they settled into the soapy water. The warm hum of post-dinner conversation filled the room, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.
“We made an American delicacy for dessert,” Molly announced proudly, waving her wand once more. A massive apple pie floated to the center of the table, its golden crust perfectly crisp and flaked with sugar. Alongside it appeared an impressive trifle layered with custard, jelly, and whipped cream. Both desserts gleamed under the warm light, looking like they belonged in a wizarding cookbook.
Y/N’s grin widened as Molly handed her a generous helping of pie, the cinnamon-scented steam wafting up to tickle her nose. “This looks amazing,” she said earnestly, her fork already hovering over the plate.
“Careful,” Fred said from across the table, watching her with mock seriousness. “Mum’s desserts are enchanted. One bite and you’ll never want to leave.”
George nodded solemnly, a spoonful of trifle halfway to his mouth. “Happened to us. We were going to move out years ago, but she keeps us trapped here with puddings and pies.”
“Honestly, I don’t see the downside,” Y/N quipped, taking her first bite. The warm, gooey filling and buttery crust melted on her tongue, and her eyes closed in bliss.
“See?” Fred gestured dramatically to George. “She’s already under the spell!”
After dinner, Y/N wandered about the Burrow, her curiosity drawing her to every quirky detail of the cozy, mismatched house. The air smelled faintly of wood smoke and baked goods, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the rooms. Family photographs in animated frames waved at her from the walls, and a few stray knitting needles clattered away in the corner, working on a scarf of their own accord.
She stopped in front of a tall, old clock that sat proudly in one corner of the living room. At first glance, she thought it was just another whimsical wizarding relic, but upon closer inspection, she realized the clock didn’t display the time at all. Instead, its hands, each labeled with a family member's name, pointed to various locations: Home, School, Work, and Bed. All the hands currently rested on Home, except for one, which pointed to Bed.
“Who’s in bed at this hour?” Y/N mused aloud, leaning in to examine the name on the errant hand.
“Bill,” came a voice directly in her left ear.
“He’s our oldest brother,” added a voice in her right.
Y/N startled slightly, spinning to find Fred and George standing on either side of her, identical smirks plastered across their freckled faces. 
“Do you two always pop up out of nowhere?” she asked, laughing despite herself.
“Part of our charm,” Fred said with a wink.
“I haven’t met him, have I?” she asked, pointing at the clock.
“Nope,” George replied, popping the p for emphasis. “Bill��s a busy bee.”
“Probably for the best, though,” Fred added, crossing his arms. “We wouldn’t stand a chance if he were here.”
“Why not?” Y/N asked, her brows furrowing.
“Because,” Fred said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “all the witches go crazy for him. They think he’s all cool and mysterious.”
“But really,” George interjected with a grin, “he’s just a massive nerd.”
Y/N chuckled, glancing back at the clock. “He’s the curse breaker, right?”
“Yep,” George said. “Used to work in Egypt, raiding tombs and dodging deadly curses.”
Fred leaned in conspiratorially. “But he traded all that in for nappies and bedtime stories when Victoire was born.”
“Victoire?” Y/N asked.
“Our niece,” George explained. “Mum’s first grandchild. Total scene-stealer.”
Fred nodded solemnly. “Mum cried for two days when she was born. It was very dramatic.”
“Not as dramatic as when George sat on a toy broomstick last Christmas and broke it,” Fred teased.
“That was a faulty broom, and you know it!” George shot back, narrowing his eyes.
Y/N laughed, shaking her head at the antics. “Well, now I’m curious to meet this infamous Bill,” she said.
“Careful what you wish for,” Fred warned. “If you’re not careful, you might fall under his nerdy spell too.”
“Unlikely,” Y/N shot back with a grin. “I’m more interested in the clock. Do you think it could tell me where my lost socks are?”
“Not a chance,” George said. “That’s advanced magic. Even Dad hasn’t cracked the sock mystery.”
Fred sighed wistfully. “One day, though. One day.”
20 notes · View notes
marjoch · 3 days ago
Text
FUTILE DEVICES
Jayce & Viktor attend a networking event. When Viktor leaves to catch his breath, he returns to find Jayce conversing with Mel. Viktor has a claim to stake.
Tumblr media
“Are you ready?”
Dead of winter, Piltover. Partners in science Jayce and Viktor had been preparing for a networking event that occurred in the evening. Already dressed up, the pair of them had met in the lab to agree on any details they wanted to share with the people they would meet.
Jayce was the one who asked the question, walking alongside Viktor as they drew closer to the grand ballroom where the event was hosted. Viktor was hoping to stay by Jayce’s side most of the night, already overthinking the possibilities of conversation topics that could arise. “Ready,” was his simple response.
The doors were open, and someone was manning it. Viktor took note of the enforcers on either side of the entrance. Jayce was more focused on getting inside. He was immediately greeted by someone Viktor didn’t recognize, assumedly a diplomat or a politician.
“Jayce Talis! It’s been too long.”
“You could say that again,” was the response. Viktor took the moment to look around the ballroom. He’d been in here before, briefly, years prior. He’d never seen it in this context, hosting an event of this scale. The lights were bright overhead, illuminating a crowd twice the size he expected. Then again, he hadn’t been sure what to expect.
A hand on his back brought him back to the conversation. “—and this is my partner, Viktor,” Jayce was introducing.
The stranger extended a hand to Viktor, who shook it.
Jayce continued on. “We’ve got a lot of people to talk to, but hopefully we can reconnect before the night is over. We have some breakthroughs I’d love to share.”
“I look forward to it,” said the stranger. Viktor had missed his name in his distraction, and it was too late to ask, especially now that the stranger was walking away.
Jayce looked to Viktor. “Doing okay?”
Viktor wasn’t sure how aware Jayce was of his hesitations to be here, so he nodded. “Of course.”
They moved on. Jayce was having a great time gliding through the ballroom, stopping to speak to every face he recognized, introducing Viktor and explaining their work to whomever inquired. On the other hand, Viktor was holding it together being dragged from place to place and remembering far too many names to count.
At some point between ten and fifteen various conversations, Viktor was faltering. He was growing tired of moving around, his chest felt tight from anxiety, and he was counting the minutes until it was over. As Jayce said goodbye to someone and immediately waved at another from across the room, Viktor remained still. “Jayce.”
His partner turned to him, attentive.
“I’m going to find a bathroom. You go on.”
Jayce nodded, touching Viktor’s shoulder. “Okay. Come find me when you’re done?”
Viktor mirrored his nod. Jayce went his own way, drifting through the sea of bodies. Viktor watched him go, then turned around, heading out of the crowd.
The noise was worse without Jayce around. The constant talking, a hundred voices layered over one other in a horrible symphony. He’d never liked events like this. He’d gone to just one before, as Heimerdinger’s assistant, and he left early. This wasn’t something he could escape, though — he didn’t want to leave Jayce alone.
There was one thing he did know about this place, and it was where to find the bathroom. He’d ventured to it several times during the night he was here before, finding it was the best escape from the volume of the main ballroom. Right outside the bathroom was the perfect safe space: a comfortable bench up against the marble wall, shrouded by plants. It was almost a secret hideaway, one he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to return to.
Now that he had, he found a seat and rested his head back. The ceiling was just as ornate as the floors, etched with gold. He breathed, counting the seconds like he’d been coached by a kind stranger once upon a time. Within a few moments, the pain in his chest slowly subsided, and his heart rate returned to normal.
Feeling better was one thing. Returning to the event was another. He remained in his hiding spot until it was invaded by an excitable couple who decided mingling was second to doting on each other.
He set on finding Jayce, then. It was easier said than done, on account of Jayce’s constant movement. Viktor admired his ability to participate in conversation despite his introversion. Jayce told him once it was easier to behave extrovertedly in a professional setting, but Viktor wasn’t sure if he thought that was true.
Finally! On a balcony at the back of the room, Viktor spotted him. He made a beeline for Jayce, avoiding eye contact with anyone else to prevent from being stopped. As he got closer, he could see that Jayce was in the middle of a conversation with one person Viktor did recognize: councilor Mel Medarda.
Truth to be told, there was no reason for Viktor to dislike her. She carried herself with grace, she spoke with dignity, she even helped their cause in the past. She was a supporter of their work, and she’d done nothing to wrong Viktor in any way. Viktor had many thoughts on the matter, one of them being that he got the impression she supported Jayce, not the both of them.
Regardless of how true or untrue his assumptions were, he was behaving as if they were fact. He didn’t like the idea of someone taking up Jayce’s attention in the way she did. Viktor saw the way he looked at her, the way he spoke about her when she wasn’t around. It was everything he desired for himself.
Arriving at the scene, Viktor interrupted. “Councilor,” he nodded in her direction, acknowledging her presence without any further conversation. He stood close to Jayce, close enough for their shoulders to touch if either of them swayed.
Jayce looked at his partner, and smiled. “I’m glad you’re back. I was just telling Mel about our discoveries with hextech.”
So not only were they on a first-name basis, but Jayce was sharing information they hadn’t told anyone else. At this point in time, their innovations with hextech were concepts, something they’d barely given a name. They had not discussed disclosing this when they debriefed earlier.
He played it off well enough. “What did you think?” Viktor asked Mel.
“I think it has potential,” was her response. She never took her eyes off of Jayce, save for a fleeting glance. Viktor wasn’t unaware of the way she tended to look at Jayce when she was speaking to the both of them. “It’s ambitious, but don’t most important discoveries start off as such?”
Jayce opened his mouth to speak, but not before Viktor got a word in. “Ambition is the driving factor of all sociological improvements. Without it, these projects would never make it past the drawing board.”
Jayce looked back to Viktor. Viktor’s gaze remained trained forward, not looking away from Mel, who seemed focused on Jayce. Therefore it was a triangle of attention: confusion, tension, and intrigue, respectively.
“What my partner means to say is that we’re dedicated to this. We’ve spent countless hours getting to the point where we can share this with you, and will continue doing so to maintain your support.”
“You impressed me from the beginning, Jayce Talis,” was Mel’s response. “If not with wits, then with determination.” She moved forward, and Jayce made space between him and Viktor for her to pass. On her way through, she put a hand on Jayce’s shoulder. “I’m always willing to hear about your discoveries. You know where to find me.”
She disappeared behind them. Both of them watched her go, Jayce mesmerized, and Viktor irritated. Due to his detachment of her character, he ended up looking at Jayce before his partner was finished watching her silhouette blend into the crowd.
“Jayce.”
That earned his attention. “Viktor. What was that?” He sounded as irritated as Viktor felt.
“I should ask you the same,” was Viktor’s quick response. “We never agreed to share these findings with anyone yet. You didn’t even mention it to me.”
“It just came out,” Jayce argued. “If anyone should know, it’s her. She’s an asset as an ally.”
“You assume,” Viktor snapped. “Science is valuable. There are those who wish to capitalize off of-”
“You think Mel would do that?”
Viktor rolled his eyes. “I think Councilor Medarda has motivations, like everyone else.”
Jayce sighed loudly. “I don’t understand why you don’t like her.”
“It’s not that I don’t like her, I just…” Viktor trailed off as two other people walked out on the balcony, seeking a quieter place to converse. He shook his head. “We can finish this conversation later.”
“We can finish it now. I’m done here, if you’re ready to go.”
Viktor had no complaints, and no further words until they were outside. He took the lead this time, guiding them back out through the crowd. Once they were out the front doors, he confessed, “I was just waiting until you wanted to leave.”
“Sorry,” Jayce said, more sarcastic than genuine. Viktor knew it was because both of them understood this event was necessary to make connections that could further their research, and garner more support from the outside.
“I’m going back to the lab,” was Viktor’s next response.
Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Now? It’s late.”
“And there’s work to be done,” Viktor said.
“You should get some sleep.”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
Jayce, of course, was going with him. The rest of their walk was silent, with Jayce racking his brain to make sense of Viktor’s reaction at the event, and Viktor imagining what it would be like to have Jayce on his side all the time. When they arrived at the lab, Viktor wasted no time getting to work.
Jayce couldn’t comprehend Viktor’s level of determination. Each time he thought Viktor would hit his limit, reach a point where he needed sleep, falter in his pacing of problem-solving… he was proven wrong. Now was no exception.
“Will you pass me my notes?” requested Viktor, standing in front of the board.
Jayce obliged, but was far more focused on the subject they’d left hanging. “Why don’t you like Mel?”
Viktor looked over his notes, facing the board but reading through them. Conversing while he was working was an easy multitask for him. He’d mastered it since starting to work with Jayce. “Why do you like her?”
He refused to call her by her first name. They were not close enough for him to earn the right, and he wasn’t going to do it behind her back. Plus, speaking her name invoked an additional awareness of the fact that she existed, and the mere thought was grating on Viktor’s nerves.
Jayce scoffed, but the prolonged silence before his answer spoke for itself. “I told you, she’s an asset as an ally, and she’s one of the only supporters we have on the council.”
“That’s not true,” Viktor said, turning. “Heimerdinger knows of our work, and waits for a demonstration. A goal we should be working towards.”
“A goal we are working towards,” Jayce spoke. Viktor hated the conviction in his voice. Well, he loved it, in another context. Now, it seemed like they were in a silent battle: Yes Mel versus No Mel. It was a position Viktor didn’t enjoy being in.
“Okay,” said Viktor, looking back at his notes and facing the board again.
Jayce sighed, watching him. “Viktor.”
“Hm?” Viktor was feigning focus on the notes, completely distracted by his blood boiling at the very thought of Jayce with another. Not fazed, Jayce walked over and took the notebook out of his hands.
“Jayce.” Viktor’s tone was clearly irritated, a reflection of his internal feelings.
“Come on, you have to talk to me. We’re partners.”
“Are we?” said Viktor. He was asking with the intention of suggesting they were partners in more than a scientific sense, but it flew over Jayce’s head, as most of Viktor’s suggestions of this sort did.
Jayce looked confused. While he spent seconds thinking about Viktor’s insinuations, Viktor took the notebook back and started working. Finally, Jayce had a question. “In what sense?”
Viktor close the notebook. “Asking real questions now.” He faced Jayce. “Do you like her?”
Jayce just laughed, but Viktor could tell he was nervous. That gave him the answer he needed, and he pushed the notebook to Jayce’s chest, turning back to the board.
“Take notes for me.”
Jayce hurried back to the desk. His immediate obedience earned Viktor’s gaze, but only when his back was turned. Viktor had been supposedly working the whole time when Jayce returned, pen in hand.
Viktor raised a hand to start solving the problem before them, one of many they’d had to work out. Jayce had the pen at the ready, prepared to write, when Viktor turned again. “You never answered my question.”
“Sure, I guess,” Jayce responded, almost afraid to admit the truth.
Viktor nodded. “Alright.”
Back to work. The back-and-forth was killing Jayce, who sighed loudly, a dramatic act. “I mean, she’s beautiful. She’s intelligent, and she’s an ally.”
“You have to stop using that word.” Viktor’s back was facing Jayce. “Ally.”
“It’s not untrue. She’s been there since the beginning, or did you forget she’s the reason we made it this far?”
“That doesn’t mean you have to fall in love with her,” said Viktor.
“As if love is a choice.”
Viktor agreed with that sentiment. There was no reason for him to find love in a science partner, someone who worked with him professionally. When he really thought about it, Jayce’s feelings for Mel were almost literarily equivalent to his for Jayce. It wasn’t something he wanted to admit unprompted, though. “You’re right about that.”
That gave Jayce some hope. Maybe Viktor had something going on with someone else, and seeing the ease between him and Mel was setting him off. “Who’s on your mind?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Viktor started to solve the problem, but then sighed in frustration and started over. His second try wielded worse results, if possible, and he tossed the chalk onto the ledge the board had at the bottom. Crossing his arms, he faced Jayce. “Does she like you the same?”
Jayce shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
Viktor nodded, looking at the floor, thoughts ruminating. His eyes met Jayce’s when he had something to say. “And there’s no one else on your mind?”
Jayce raised an eyebrow, oblivious as always.
Viktor was tired of waiting. Due to the proximity of Jayce’s dedication to document Viktor’s work, they were already close. He reached out for Jayce’s collar and pulled him closer.
He didn’t kiss him, yet. He only wanted Jayce to understand.
“Oh,” said Jayce, barely audible. Viktor could see the pieces falling together through the look in his eyes.
“Oh,” echoed Viktor, nodding. “I hate seeing you with her like that. I’m right here.”
With those words, Jayce made sense of it. “I think about it, too.”
He didn’t have the space to say anything else, because Viktor committed to the moment. Before Jayce could register Viktor moving, they were engaged in a brief kiss. Viktor didn’t want to drag him along until Jayce was sure, though, and this surety came in the form of a brief break.
Viktor looked up into Jayce’s eyes, and Jayce just gazed down at him. There was no thinking, just the attempt, and imminent lack thereof. In lieu of words, Jayce leaned back in, slow enough for Viktor to close the gap, which he did.
This kiss was much longer, and held deeper meaning. It was their first opportunity to explore each other, and they utilized it. Tongue on tongue, hands on arms, neck, hair, waist. Jayce tossed the notebook somewhere to their left to focus fully on Viktor, who was pleased to see that Jayce was equally intrigued by the prospect of furthering the depth of their relationship.
Jayce came up for air. Viktor had a steel grip on the back of his neck, asking a much-pondered question. “Do you dream about me?”
Jayce just laughed. It was a beautiful sound, but it didn’t answer his question. The truth was, Viktor had dreamt about Jayce for months. Each night when he fell asleep, he wished that Jayce would dream the same, just to make it even. It wasn’t fair for him to feel all the longing that could be split between them both. “Maybe.”
When Jayce leaned in for another kiss after that, Viktor leaned back. “Maybe?”
“Yes,” said Jayce, almost immediately. Viktor let him win, but the kiss was too short for Jayce, made clear by a disappointed huff when Viktor pulled away again.
That made Viktor smirk, just the slightest. He had a hold on Jayce, both physically and mentally. Viktor’s gaze wandered, from Jayce’s eyes to his lips, neck, even his chest, belt, before making their way back up again.
“Viktor,” Jayce said, a prompt that he was waiting.
“Jayce,” returned Viktor, allowing their short distance apart to fester. He wanted to see how long Jayce could go without engaging in another kiss.
In an effort to get Viktor to make the move, Jayce spoke his name again. “Viktor.”
Not giving up that easily, Viktor just smiled. “Jayce.”
That was all it took. Jayce’s hands found either side of Viktor’s face and pulled him in so hard that Viktor practically fell into him. Both hands up against Jayce’s chest, his cane clattered to the floor. Before his arms could reach up around Jayce’s neck for support, Jayce moved to grab his waist. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against Viktor’s lips, in-between the heated kiss.
Viktor could hardly repress a smile, knowing he had Jayce exactly where he wanted. Now that he was supported, he let his hands roam. There were so many things about Jayce to like, and one of them was his body, which Viktor had fantasized about more times than he would admit.
Lost in the moment, they continued on. They were voyagers in an unknown landscape, each of them discovering the other. At some point, Viktor’s urgency rivaled Jayce’s, and Jayce stumbled back. Before either of them knew what was happening, they were tumbling to the floor.
Jayce ended up underneath Viktor, both accidental and ideally strategic. He broke Viktor’s fall, an appreciated gesture, but hit his own head back on the ground. Viktor immediately put his hand upon the point of contact, cradling Jayce’s head from where he now laid on top of him.
“Are you okay?” Viktor asked.
“I’m okay,” Jayce reassured, before pulling Viktor’s face down to his lips.
Viktor adjusted his position, straddling Jayce and leaning down. Some minutes into their make-out, he interrupted. When he spoke, his lips touched Jayce’s, indicative of their closeness. “Is this uncomfortable? You’re on the floor.”
Jayce shook his head just the slightest, enough to emphasize his denial but not enough to separate them. “Are you comfortable?”
“I’m comfortable,” said Viktor.
“Good,” responded Jayce, initiating the kiss again.
God, it was everything he’d ever wanted. He couldn’t hide a moan of satisfaction if he wanted to, and upon hearing his affirmation, Jayce allowed his own. It was almost too much, turning Viktor from a scientist into something else entirely.
Jayce’s hands wandered, from Viktor’s face to his shoulders, eventually his waist, and even thumbs hooking into his waistband. Viktor let him, even allowing Jayce to go so far as to fiddle with the buttons that kept his pants together. When Jayce tried to undo it, Viktor stopped him, reaching for his hand.
“No,” Viktor said. “Let me do it.”
Jayce sighed, disappointed. The act earned another smile from Viktor, one that Jayce could feel against his lips.
“Unless you don’t want to,” Viktor remarked, knowing good and well what Jayce’s response would be.
“No, go on,” was the response. Viktor hesitated, one hand on Jayce’s cheek, the other halfway down his chest. The halt in motion made Jayce look up into Viktor’s eyes, and Viktor raised an eyebrow. Jayce sighed again, impatient. “Please?”
Viktor nodded, acknowledging the request, and kissed him again, letting his hand resume its path from Jayce’s chest to his belt. Before setting to work on it, he ventured even lower, feeling Jayce through his pants.
“God, Viktor,” Jayce groaned through their kiss.
“Shut up,” said Viktor, using his other hand to grasp Jayce’s chin, kissing him deeper than before. He wasn’t done messing with Jayce, continuing his quest to rile him up. When Jayce moaned again, he stopped all semblance of movement, save for their lips.
Jayce wasn’t amused, hips moving to try and simulate Viktor’s touch in its absence.
Viktor broke away from the kiss. “Jayce.”
“Viktor,” was the quick and breathless response. Viktor hid his excitability well, sitting up slightly and looking down at Jayce.
“Are you going to listen to me?”
Jayce nodded agreeably, and waited. When there was no response, he spoke. “Yes,” he acknowledged verbally. All it took was Viktor waiting for him to add, “Please.”
Viktor kissed him again, moving his hand, and then setting to work on Jayce’s pants. His shirt had to come untucked first, and Jayce did the same favor for him. Viktor got through the belt, into the pants Jayce was wearing, and paused again right before his hand made it all the way in. “You’re mine. Not hers.”
Jayce nodded again, urgently.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours, not hers,” Jayce said, without hesitation. “Only yours. Please, Viktor.”
Satisfied by that response, Viktor kissed him again, moving on. He liked to kiss Jayce through these moments, because it made it easier to tell exactly how Jayce felt. It was impossible to hide the hitches in his breath, the smallest slightest moans. Now was no different.
Viktor wanted him badly, but playing with Jayce was a kind of game. Seeing Jayce with Mel fueled some sort of animal in him, a possessive creature that was determined to stake his claim. This was his method.
His hands left Jayce, reaching down to work on his own pants. Jayce seems keen on helping, kissing Viktor fervently but moving his hands down to assist. Viktor paused his own efforts, pinning Jayce’s hands above him. “No,” he said again.
Jayce was frustrated at this point, shifting under him in an attempt to acquire the friction he missed.
Viktor laughed quietly. “You want me?”
Jayce sighed, almost irritated. “Obviously.”
Viktor just watched him. He didn’t have to say anything else to earn a response; the lack of action was enough.
“Please,” said Jayce, giving in. Whatever Viktor asked for in this moment, he would give him.
To be honest, Viktor had been the subject of Jayce’s dreams as much as it was the opposite. Jayce had awoken some mornings dazed, wondering how he could possibly go into the lab and face Viktor without any hints of what his mind imagined the night before. It was all irrelevant now that Viktor had him in this position.
Viktor listened to his pleads, making quick work of anything separating them. He touched Jayce carefully, slowly, paying attention to the way Jayce gasped, faltered, faced the ceiling in moments when he would otherwise be captivated by Viktor’s kiss. He leaned down to Jayce, bypassing his mouth for his ear while he was overcome. “Are you ready?” He whispered, a distant echo of Jayce at the beginning of the evening.
Jayce’s nod was all he required before Viktor continued to have the lead, guiding Jayce inside him, taking it slowly and exhaling in satisfaction while he adjusted. Jayce was louder than he was, much to Viktor’s amusement. They had yet to go further, and this is how he had him.
Slow but steady movements. Viktor was fully in control, and Jayce wasn’t raising any argument about it. If anything, he was in support, his hands finding Viktor’s hips.
Viktor’s hands were on Jayce’s chest, using him as a prop while he did the work for both of them. When Viktor could barely control his breathing, head thrown back skyward, Jayce thought he was the most captivating sight he’d experienced in his twenty-seven years of life.
At some point, one of Jayce’s hands reached up to Viktor’s face. His partner read his desire in the act, and leaned down to kiss him, elevating their experience. Each and every sound out of Jayce’s mouth was a part of the choir living in Viktor’s mind. He’d lived this before a hundred times in his dreams.
The near-silence in the room (apart from themselves) was imperceivable to either of them, each living their own symphony. Jayce could hardly believe his luck: this was the last thing he’d expected to occur, yet the first thing he’d desired.
On the other hand, Viktor could hardly believe this was the point they’d gotten to. He’d wanted Jayce for years, and to have heard his pleads not once, not twice, but quarce… he was almost pondering how many times he could get it out of him.
In his curiosity, Viktor broke the kiss, continuing the act they were partaking in without their lips touching. He hovered above Jayce, yet again pinning his arm above his head. The hand that was on his hip was fine to remain where it was, but anything beyond, he was determined to control in an attempt to hear Jayce again.
Jayce was already frustrated again by the restraint. It made Viktor more excitable, something Jayce would have noticed if he wasn’t so preoccupied with his own physical feelings.
Back to the game, as always. Viktor slowed their pace and leaned down, choosing to let go of Jayce’s arm, only to guide him back to his own hips. His lips lingered just above Jayce’s, close enough to touch within the constant motion. He purposefully kept them from connecting, and Jayce sensed it.
“Please, Viktor,” Jayce murmured.
Five times, then. Viktor gave into him, kissing him softly at first, intensifying it as he picked up the pace again. Jayce was bewitched, completely lost to anything apart from Viktor… just the way his partner wanted it.
The closer they got, the sweeter the kiss tasted. There was no scientific differentiation from the first kiss to now, apart from the feelings they shared for each other and the feelings they invoked through this behavior.
“You’re mine,” Viktor’s words were quiet against Jayce’s lips. “Not hers.”
“I’m yours,” Jayce responded, with a moan so loud that Viktor briefly considered the fact that they may be louder than intended. Who was nearby at this hour of the night, though? No one except for the two of them.
Viktor continued on, getting to the point where he couldn’t mess with Jayce anymore. The pleasure shared between them was too great for him to carry on. Jayce noticed this shift and moved his hand back up to Viktor’s face, brushing his thumb against his partner’s cheek.
Eyes closed, Viktor focused on keeping the motion going. His hand found Jayce’s on his waist, gripping his wrist tightly. He exhaled, heavy, and Jayce thought it was beautiful.
A slightly faster pace and opposite hand fully on Jayce’s chest steadied Viktor closer to the end he was bringing both of them towards. A minute or two into this, Jayce put both of his hands back on Viktor’s hips, assisting where Viktor wouldn’t let him before.
“Jayce,” Viktor began, about to complain about losing total control, but unable to get further than his partner’s name before an uncontrollable gasp interrupted his train of thought.
“Let me help,” Jayce insisted.
Those words alone brought Viktor back to the determination he’d had before. He was not about to give up on singlehandedly getting Jayce off, especially not after the dispute they’d had about Mel. He didn’t stop Jayce, but he maintained the pace, and therefore the control. He only faltered as he got close, leaning down to kiss Jayce again.
Jayce moaned against his lips, giving Viktor validation in his attempts. He could sense the end in sight and powered through, not letting up for a second. At some point near the finish line, Jayce gripped his hips tighter, and Viktor sensed the change. In an effort to prolong his own pleasure, he slowed the pace down.
“Viktor,” Jayce nearly immediately complained. “Please.”
Who was he to deny him? He returned to what he’d been doing before, much to Jayce’s approval. The obviously audible crescendo of sounds from Jayce was worth each moment leading up to this point. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting off, either — he was having a great time, and he was on rhythm to finish with Jayce.
It worked out just as intended. Viktor felt himself nearing a climax and held out until he succeeded, hearing Jayce’s corresponding audible cue that he was also done. As if he couldn’t feel it.
When all was said and done, they were left with heavy breathing, shared sweat, and a laugh from Jayce as Viktor took a spot next to him on the floor. Viktor had a hand over his eyes, both shading from the light and from Jayce’s gaze. Jayce turned to watch him.
“You don’t have to worry about her,” he said.
Viktor turned to look at Jayce, then. “You don’t mean that.”
Jayce just smiled, reaching over to push a strand of hair out of Viktor’s face. “Whatever you want. I’m your partner.”
The look in Viktor’s eyes was some mix of satisfaction and disbelief, a feeling that getting what one wants often entails. There was comfort in knowing he’d achieved what he desired, but fear in the possibility of loss.
Jayce pulled him into an embrace, then, as much as an embrace as they could share on the actual floor. They didn’t have to exchange words to come to an agreement, one that Viktor couldn’t let live long before his own thoughts interrupted.
Viktor refastened his pants, sitting up and searching for his shirt, which was nearby. In his efforts to get rid of their clothing, the pile had remained close enough. “We should get some sleep.”
Jayce mirrored him, sitting up and hunting for the clothes he’d lost. He pulled them back on, but barely: the shirt unbuttoned, same with the vest he had been wearing, tie hung around his neck. No amount of disbelief could keep Viktor’s longing away.
Jayce stood, and picked up Viktor’s cane. Then and only then did he extend a hand to help his partner up, setting him up for success and support. Viktor was grateful despite his lack of explicit expression towards the matter.
“You can stay with me,” Viktor offered. He lived closer than Jayce, and he missed their closeness from before. “If you want.”
Jayce wanted. He nodded eagerly, and motioned to the door, prepared to follow Viktor out. Viktor led the way, abandoning the work he’d gone back to do. There was always tomorrow, right?
The pair of them individually sorted through their thoughts about the night. These ruminations came to a close when they made it to Viktor’s, laid down next to each other, and drifted to sleep. When Viktor woke, Jayce was holding him, just as he’d always envisioned to help him sleep during the rough nights.
27 notes · View notes