#in my mind no one is talking about how fine he is

[mariasont]

HEAR ME OUT!

post prison Spencer and shy!reader bonding over being total nerds. Books, shows... you name it

Bookstore Physics - S.R

summary: spencer suggests you should compare moral biases more often. you think he's making a philosophical point. he thinks he just asked you on a date

pairings: post!prison spencer reid x shy!medialiaison!reader

warnings: fluff, second hand embarrassment im sure, philosophical debates that are probably wrong bc i had to google and i know hardly knowing about mr kant, existential crisis but make it romantic, post prison reid, shy reader, prolonged eye contact

wc: 1.6k

a/n: thanks for requesting my lovely! happy superbowl to those who celebrate! go birds!

You were so close. Just one more inch, and your fingertips would finally graze the spine of the book that had been taunting you from its impossibly high perch. 

Rising to your tiptoes, you reached with all the reckless confidence of someone who had severely underestimated basic physics. The shelf wobbled under your grip, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and in that split second, you were faced with a terrifying possibility that you were about to take out the entire bookshelf, along with your dignity.

Something grabbed ahold of you, steadying you before you could faceplant directly into a pile of literary fiction. 

You went completely rigid. Because that wasn't just something. That was a Spencer Reid hand, long fingers, warm palm, and a freakishly strong grip for a man who treated physical exertion like a concept rather than a practice.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Reid," you blurted, the words tumbling out clumsy and unpolished, as if your tongue had forgotten how to function. You winced instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer didn't answer right away. His grip on your arm slackened, but he didn't step away, didn't even give you an inch of space, like he had no intention of letting you breathe properly.

Oh, that's fine. Air is overrated anyway.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated as if he were genuinely considering the question, but you knew better.

His expression hovered somewhere between pity and uncontained glee, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

Your lips parted, but your mind refused to cooperate, stuck on an endless loop of oh my god, did you actually just say that?

To Spencer Reid. The same Spencer who had, on multiple occasions, resorted to scribbling entire paragraphs on the back of receipts and once, when truly desperate, his own wrist. Spencer, who physically flinched at the sound of a cracked spine and once spent seventeen uninterrupted minutes explaining the significance of marginalia. Spencer who read like breathing and talked about prose like it was something alive.

And you, a person allegedly with working cognitive abilities, had just asked him what he was doing in a bookstore.

You opened your mouth, whether to correct yourself or just inhale enough oxygen to function again, you weren't sure, but before you could, Spencer, with precisely zero struggle, reached up and plucked the book from the shelf like it had been placed there specifically for him. 

"You should've asked for help," he murmured, and oh, that was definitely amusement in his voice.

"I-I had it under control."

One brow arched, unimpressed.

"Sure you did," he mused, lips twitching like they couldn’t quite decide whether to commit to a smirk. "Although, considering that 20% of bookstore-related injuries stem from ill-advised attempts at reaching high shelves, you were probably just one statistic away from a minor concussion."

You narrowed your eyes. "That's not—there's no way that's a real statistic."

Spencer barely reacted, flipping open the book with the same casual disinterest of someone checking the sky for clouds, except this wasn't a change in barometric pressure, and you were positive your entire nervous system had just gone into meltdown mode.

Your face burned, heat creeping up your spine and flooding through you veins at an alarming speed, and—oh, no—you had officially run out of places to look that weren't him.

And he (unfortunately) made such an easy focal point.

His shirt was rumpled like he'd spent the whole day forgetting to sit properly and a barely-there ink smudge kissed the edge of his palm, the kind only noticeable if you were close. His hair was at war with itself, some strands curling forward rebelliously against the collar of his cardigan, others falling forward, brushing the edge of his cheek.

He didn't glance up as he murmured, "Philosophy?"

The words barely had time to settle before your brain supplied an immediate translation: he was about to analyze you.

You could practically hear the gears turning, the internal mechanisms of his brain whirring at a speed that actually did defy physics. If you concentrated hard enough, you might've been able to hear the faint whir of neurons firing, piecing together a framework of analysis that was surely seconds away from being spoken into existence. He was surely already forming a hypothesis, already constructing some impossibly insightful revelation about what this particular title said about you, your worldview, your subconscious motivations.

"Well—yeah, that one," you said quickly, the words tripping over each other. “I mean, it’s not real philosophy—well, obviously, it is, but not in the way you would define foundational philosophy, but it still presents some really interesting moral dilemmas, and the writing is surprisingly digestible considering the subject matter is so—”

You clamped your mouth shut so fast it was a wonder your teeth didn’t rattle.

What were you even saying?

"Um—yeah. Philosophy. Or... something like that."

Spencer's lips twitched, and then, in a move so profoundly unsettling, he smiled.

Not just any smile, either. A real one. The kind that didn't just curve his mouth but softened him entirely, the corners tugging upward, a barely there dimple surfacing at his cheek. 

It hit you like a perfectly aimed dart—sharp, direct, and entirely crushing. Something fluttered wildly in your chest, light enough to feel stupid, but heavy enough to be a problem.

Then, still smiling, he tilted his head, leaning in just enough to invade your space, his voice dipping like he was handing you something fragile.

"I didn't take you for the existentialist type."

Your first instinct is to argue, to insist that you're far too well-rounded, too multifaceted, too impossible to be pinned down by a single school of thought. But before you can even begin to string words together, Spencer tilts his head just a little more, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that feels dangerously close to that same expression of analyzing once again.

And suddenly, you need to redirect this conversation, desperately, urgently, before your body betrays you, before you start visibly sweating or keel over like a fainting goat. Neither feels like an optimal outcome.

"I—I mean... I could say the same about you."

His lips quirk. "Interesting. And why's that?"

"I don't know. I always assumed you'd be more of a rationalist? Like, Descartes' methodical doubt feels like something you'd respect, and even Kant's categorical imperative, although that's more deontological ethics than strict rationalism, kind of aligns with the way you view morality and decision-making, and—"

You stop. Blink.

Oh no. You’re heavily invested in this man’s philosophical alignment.

You purse your lips, clearing your throat like that’ll erase the absurd level of thought you’ve just admitted to having.

"I mean, I'm probably way off."

Spencer flips the book closed, considering.

"I supposed you could argue I lean toward rationalism," he allows. "But morality is messy. Kant insists on universal law, and let's be real, most people abandon objectivity the second emotions get involved."

He glances at you then, a shift so small it shouldn't feel significant, but somehow, it does.

“For instance, we all make exceptions. We justify things we probably shouldn’t. Sometimes we prioritize people in ways that defy reason.”

His lips twitch. 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

“Well, yeah,” you say, caught up in the current of the conversation before you even realize you’ve been swept away. “People make emotional calculations constantly. Even when they claim objectivity, their decisions are shaped by personal attachments.”

The thought unspools too easily, words tumbling forward, carried by momentum.

“And it’s not just morality—it’s cognition in general. Have you read Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral intuitionism? He argues that people make moral judgments first based on instinct, and then rationalize them after the fact.”

You glance up, expecting a rapid-fire counterargument, some impossibly well-structured debate. But Spencer is just watching you.

"So what about you?" he asks suddenly. "Would you say you make exceptions?"

You pause.

"I mean… yeah? I guess I do. Everyone does, right? If someone I care about does something morally questionable, I’d probably be more inclined to defend them than if it were a stranger. I mean, that’s just human nature."

Then shrug. 

"But that doesn’t mean I’m being hypocritical," you add quickly, as if you just realized how that sounded. "I think there’s a difference between conscious favoritism and subconscious moral bias. It’s not like I have a specific person I’d automatically justify no matter what."

Spencer exhales. "I think you're more consistent than you realize."

You blink at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, lifting the book in his hands, fingers drumming idly against the cover. “You try so hard to rationalize your emotions. But I think, if it came down to it, you’d make an exception for someone. Just one.”

Your stomach knots, and it's humiliating how obvious you must be. You can feel your pulse everywhere, in your throat, your wrists, your temples, like your entire body is broadcasting, Hey, Spencer Reid is making you malfunction because he somehow sees right through you, somebody send help.

“I—well, I mean—”

“Relax, it’s just a theory.”

But something about the way he says it makes you not relax at all. And before you can scramble for some kind of coherent response, he nods toward your book.

“You should get that one,” he says lightly, handing you back the book. “I’d love to hear your take on it next time.”

You freeze. Next time?

Oh. Oh no. The words settle over you like an ill-timed realization, and your brain is running the math like you're about to file a report on your own social incompetence. Next time implies... a prior time, a recurring time, a pattern of times. Next time implies he assumes there will be a next time. 

And you assume that he assumes that you are the kind of person who could logically expect another bookstore trip with Spencer Reid as if that's just a thing that happens in your life. Which is absurd.

Your fingers tighten around the book, like holding onto an overpriced paperback will somehow restore balance to your rapidly deteriorating world. Your pulse is a problem and your ability to think critically is a casualty. 

You scramble for something, anything, to say, but before your brain can reboot, Spencer is already moving. 

Then just as he disappears into the next aisle, he tosses one final parting shot of his shoulder—

"See you soon, then."

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[darlingsblackbook]

Between the Lines

Gojo Satoru x Awkward!Reader

Summary : As the new teacher’s assistant at Jujutsu High, Y/N is used to being invisible—quiet, awkward, always on the outside looking in. She tells herself she prefers it that way, but when Gojo Satoru, the school’s most infuriatingly nosy teacher, starts noticing the cracks in her carefully built walls, she finds it harder to hide. He’s loud, he’s persistent, and worst of all… he might just see right through her.

Warnings : Shy!Reader, Awkward!Reader, Introvert!Reader, Lonely!Reader

♡♡♡

I had never been good at introductions.

Or first impressions. Or second impressions.

Or… people in general.

So when the principal of Jujutsu High offered me a job as a teaching assistant, I accepted before I could talk myself out of it. It was logical—stable work, a chance to put my skills to use—but now, standing in front of the classroom door, I was starting to question every decision that led me here.

The job itself wasn’t the problem. It was the social part. The talking. The being around others.

The inevitable awkwardness.

Here I am, standing awkwardly outside the door of Gojo Satoru’s classroom, a bundle of nerves in my stomach.

I have never met him before. Only heard of him in passing. The strongest sorcerer alive. An eccentric man, a little ridiculous but undeniably powerful. I have no idea what to expect, and that made me even more anxious.

I exhaled sharply and knocked before I could hesitate any longer.

“Come iiinnn~”

The voice was playful, stretching the words like taffy. I hesitated for a second before pushing the door open.

The room was not empty. Three students sat at their desks, heads turning as I entered. One of them—a boy with pink hair and a bright, open grin—tilted his head curiously. Another, dark-haired with sharp features, barely reacted. The last, a girl with fiery eyes, scrutinized me with clear interest.

And then, there was him.

Gojo Satoru.

He was taller than I expected, his dark blue uniform neat but his posture anything but. White hair, messy but somehow intentional and a blindfold shielding his eyes. He was the kind of person who took up space without any effort, like the air itself made room for him.

“Oh? A new face.” A grin stretched across his face. "And who might you be?"

I swallowed and tightened my grip on my bag. “Um. I’m Y/N. The principal assigned me as your new teaching assistant.”

For a moment, there was a silence. Then, Gojo’s smile widened. “Ohhh, so you’re the poor soul stuck with me?”

I- I was not so sure how to respond to that.

“I… guess?”

The pink-haired boy snickered. “Welcome to the chaos, sensei.”

Gojo clapped his hands. “Right! Introductions. These little troublemakers are my students. That’s Itadori Yuji—”

“Yo!”

“—Fushiguro Megumi—”

A silent nod.

“—and Kugisaki Nobara.”

The girl flipped her hair. “Good luck surviving Gojo-sensei.”

I gave a small, uncertain nod with an unsure smile. “Thanks…?”

Gojo tilted his head. “So, Y/N! Tell us about yourself.”

Oh no.

Not this question. Anything but this question.

My mind blanked immediately.

I was supposed to say something here. Something normal. Something that would make me seem approachable. But nothing came.

“There’s not much to say,” I finally muttered.

Gojo leaned forward on his desk, grinning. “Come on, there’s gotta be something. A hobby? Fun fact? Favorite food? Deepest, darkest secret?”

I swallowed. I hated questions like this. I never knew how to answer.

My hands curled around the strap of my bag. “I..I mean I like...reading, I don’t know.”

For a second, silence. A horrible, suffocating pause.

Then—

Gojo sighed dramatically. “A mystery woman, huh? Fine, fine, we’ll learn your secrets eventually.”

Something in me tensed at that idea.

But Gojo spared me and did not press. He just stretched lazily and turned back to his students.

I exhaled, shoulders loosening.

That could have gone a lot worse.

°•♡•°

The first few days passed in a blur.

I kept to my work, avoiding unnecessary interactions. The job itself was easy—assisting with lessons, helping with training schedules, sorting paperwork. It was everything outside of that that I struggled with.

Small talk. Social cues. Knowing when to speak and when to stay silent.

I avoided the break room, ate lunch alone, kept my head down. It wasn’t new—I had always been like this. And I had always told myself I didn’t mind.

But Gojo made it difficult to go unnoticed.

He was everywhere. Loud, teasing, impossible to ignore. He had a habit of appearing at the worst moments—leaning over my desk when I was trying to work, suddenly materializing beside me when I was lost in thought.

And he noticed things.

A lot of things.

“Hey,” he said one afternoon. “Do you always stand like that?”

I blinked up at him. “Like what?”

He waved a hand vaguely. “All stiff. Like you’re bracing for impact.”

I immediately stiffened more. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Gojo hummed. “You’re always tense. And quiet. Do I scare you?”

I frowned, caught off guard. “What? No.” I laughed awkwardly.

He gasped, hand over his chest. “So you just don’t like me?”

“That’s not—” I stopped, exhaling. “I just… I don’t talk much.”

Gojo tilted his head, as if considering something.

For a second, I thought he might press further. Ask questions I didn’t know how to answer.

But then he just grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up to me eventually.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

But later, when I caught him watching me with something thoughtful behind his blindfold, I realized—

He wasn’t sure about me either.

°•♡•°

Even more days passed, blending into each other like ink bleeding into paper.

I kept my head down, did my work, and kept to myself. It was easy, really. No one expected much from me beyond my job. The students were polite, Gojo was… Gojo, and the rest of the staff had their own responsibilities. I did what was required, answered when spoken to, and let conversations pass over me like waves washing over a stone.

And yet…

Something gnawed at me.

I noticed things. I always had.

Like the way Itadori and Kugisaki bickered over lunch, their insults sharp but affectionate. The way Fushiguro sighed, exasperated but always there, always included. The way they trained together, argued together, shared jokes that only made sense to them.

They belonged.

Even the staff, as different as they were, had their own connections. Yaga’s gruff lectures, Shoko’s dry humor, Gojo’s infuriating yet oddly natural way of slipping into conversations like he had always been part of them.

Everywhere I looked, people had someone.

I didn’t even have a past friendship to reminisce about. No old friend I had lost touch with. No warm memories of sleepovers, of whispered secrets at midnight, of laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

I had nothing.

It wasn’t that I had never wanted friends. I had wanted them desperately. But there had always been something wrong with me—something that made people drift away before they ever truly got close.

Maybe I was too quiet.

Maybe I was too awkward.

Maybe I was just… forgettable.

Even now, at 22, I felt like I had already wasted my entire life away.

Everyone else had stories. Experiences. Things they could look back on with fondness or even regret.

I had empty days and silence.

I never checked my phone much, but sometimes, I left it untouched for hours just to pretend—just to imagine, for a second, that when I finally looked at it, I would see something.

A message.

A missed call.

A notification that was not just a useless app reminder.

But there was never anything.

The ache in my chest was familiar by now, dull but relentless.

I felt like I was missing something vital, something everyone else had but I simply… didn’t.

It was stupid.

I had a job. A roof over my head. A place in the world, even if it felt like I was just existing rather than living.

But still—

Still.

I wanted someone.

Someone to talk to about nothing and everything.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone who would see my name pop up on their phone and be excited to hear from me.

But I didn’t know how to reach out.

Didn’t know how to start.

Didn’t know if it was even possible for someone like me.

If Gojo noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

Not at first.

He still teased, still popped up at the most unexpected moments, still acted like the world was his playground.

But then, I started catching him watching me.

Just little moments, subtle shifts.

His head tilting ever so slightly whenever I hesitated before answering a question.

His focus lingering when I thought no one was paying attention.

At first, I just chalked it up to paranoia. But it kept happening.

The worst part was, Gojo wasn’t the type to care without reason. If he was noticing me, if he was watching me, it meant something had tipped him off.

That terrified me.

Because if he figured it out—if he somehow pieced together how hollow my life really was—I wasn’t sure I could handle that kind of scrutiny.

So I tried harder.

Tried to look normal.

Tried to pretend that I wasn’t weighed down by something invisible, something I didn’t have the words for.

But Gojo was sharp in a way most people didn’t realize.

And even if I could fool everyone else,

I couldn’t fool him.

The days continued to pass, each one blending into the next. I had fallen into a routine, and while there was a sense of comfort in that, there was also something else—something heavier, something I tried not to think about too much.

I wasn’t unhappy, exactly. I had a job, I had a purpose, and I wasn’t struggling. But the silence of my own life had become deafening.

At Jujutsu High, I was surrounded by people, but I had never felt more alone.

It was during lunch that I felt it the most.

I always sat outside, away from the busy chatter of the cafeteria, where students and staff alike gathered in their little groups.

It wasn’t like anyone had told me to sit alone. I had just… done it.

It was easier that way.

Or at least, that was what I told myself.

I had taken to watching the students from afar. Not in an obvious way, but just enough to see the ease of their friendships. The way Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi existed in a way that I had never known myself.

“Oi, Megumi, say ‘ahhh’—”

“No.”

“Come onnn, I made it with love!”

“I literally watched you drop that on the floor.”

Nobara pouted dramatically, only for Yuji to swoop in and eat whatever it was she had been trying to force on Megumi. The two of them laughed at something he said, and even Megumi, who always tried to seem indifferent, looked somewhat amused.

I turned my gaze away with a slight smile, focusing on my food.

It shouldn’t have made me feel like this.

It was such a simple thing��friends joking around, sharing lunch, teasing each other. It wasn’t as if I had ever expected to be part of something like that.

And yet.

I let out a quiet sigh and checked my phone.

Zero notifications.

The same empty lock screen. The same stillness.

I turned it off quickly and placed it back on the table, pushing my food around with my chopsticks.

“Not hungry?”

I looked up, startled.

Shoko had appeared beside me, a cigarette dangling between her fingers as she leaned against the bench. Her sharp eyes flickered to my barely-touched food.

“Oh,” I hesitated. “No, I just…” I trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

Shoko hummed. “Gojo giving you trouble?”

I blinked. “What?”

She smirked, exhaling smoke. “He’s been staring at you a lot.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just gave a weak chuckle and shook my head.

“I think he just likes messing with people.”

“That’s an understatement.” Shoko stretched, then took another drag. “He’s nosy, though. If he’s paying attention to you, he’s probably noticed something.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious.

Shoko didn’t push. She just glanced at my food again, then nodded toward the cafeteria. “You should eat with them sometime. They wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Maybe,” I lied.

She didn’t call me out on it. Just gave a lazy wave and wandered off, disappearing into the school.

I should have expected it.

I really should have.

But when Gojo’s voice rang out, disrupting my fragile moment of peace, I still nearly choked on air.

“You eat like someone’s forcing you,” he remarked, plopping down onto the bench beside me without a single care.

I froze.

He was too close.

I wasn’t used to people being this close.

Gojo didn’t seem to notice—or, more likely, he didn’t care. He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his arms sprawled over the back of the bench as if he owned the whole world.

I forced a weak chuckle, gripping my chopsticks tighter. “I eat fine.”

“Debatable.” He tilted his head toward me. “You’re all stiff. Like a scared little rabbit.”

I gave him a look, but I knew better than to actually argue. Gojo thrived off reactions.

Instead, I let out a breathy laugh and looked away.

He wasn’t deterred.

“So,” he continued, tapping his fingers against the bench, “why do you always eat alone?”

I nearly dropped my chopsticks.

The question caught me off guard—not because it was unexpected, but because it was so blunt.

My throat felt tight. “I just prefer it,” I murmured, staring down at my food.

“Really?” Gojo drawled. “Because I think you just don’t know how to ask to sit with someone.”

I swallowed, gripping my chopsticks so hard they might snap. “That’s not—”

“C’mon, am I wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

Gojo sighed dramatically, turning to face me fully. “You’re a weird one, you know that?”

I let out a nervous laugh, feeling my entire body lock up under his gaze.

“And you’re loud,” I mumbled before I could stop myself.

He grinned. “I am loud. But I’m fun, too.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just nodded weakly.

He tapped a finger against the table. “Seriously, though. You’re always off on your own. No friends? No tragic backstory?”

I blinked rapidly, caught completely off guard. “I—”

“Oh my god, do you have amnesia? Are you secretly a lost princess? A government experiment gone wrong?”

Despite myself, I let out a small laugh. It was quiet, but it was real.

Gojo grinned like he had won something.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“I know,” he said smugly. Then, after a pause, his voice turned softer—quieter. “But really. You okay?”

The question hit harder than I expected.

I stared at my untouched food, feeling my throat tighten.

I didn’t know how to answer.

Because I didn’t even know what ‘okay’ meant anymore.

Gojo didn’t push.

He just sat there, waiting, as if he had all the time in the world.

But I wasn’t ready.

So I did what I always did.

I laughed awkwardly. Nodded.

And said nothing at all.

Gojo let out a hum, tapping his fingers against the table again.

He knew.

Maybe not everything, but something.

And that scared me more than anything.

[reidrum]

let it once be me | the prophecy part 3

note: hey ,,, remember her ,,,,,,,,, ! feeling hashtag nervous to post this but pls tell me ur thoughts this went through !!! so many drafts !!! almost lost my mind like thirty times lol but thank u for reading <3 (reading prior parts may be helpful in having context for this part but im not really sure it's necessary, they're way shorter than this part either way)

summary: you and spencer are faced with yet another wedge in your relationship, and you're not sure if it'll survive this time

cw: heavy spoilers for everett lynch arc (15.10), we're ignoring the cm tl and time doesn't exist, maeve flashback, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending !

wc: 8k (wtf)

part 1 part 2

Spencer feels he’s lived many lives, and that his lived experiences have thoroughly prepared him to navigate novel situations with a small familiarity. A cushion really, to allow him the comfort of seeing the path before he has to walk it blind. It almost acts as a sense of pride for him, a testament to what he’s overcome and capable of facing.

There’s nothing prideful about how awful things have been going with you.

It’s been weeks since your talk with him. Weeks since he vowed to prove to you that you were it for him, and he’s made so little progress he finds it embarrassing for someone with his caliber of intellect.

He’s toeing a fine line between being in your presence enough for you to see that he’s trying, and giving you  space so that you don’t feel smothered. It was harder in the immediate days after your talk, when you couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room as him for more than five minutes. You had come home to his apartment the day after having decided Penelope had enough of your moping. Once you got in you immediately went to settle into the guest room.

It was near radio silent between you both those first few days. He didn’t want to force you, but it didn’t feel great when you would leave a room as soon as he’d enter. As the days went on, Spencer started getting resourceful. He’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave it on the table for you, your coffee next to it made exactly how you take it. Then it was little notes left in the most random places, all written with different things he loved about you. He never saw your reaction when you read them, but they’d always disappear from its spot the next day. Little things to remind you he’s there for you.

More days passed and it finally felt like the ice was starting to melt away. You’d started lingering longer in the living room if he was sat at the table still. One time you even made breakfast for the both of you, and although you weren’t there to eat it with him Spencer had never felt more hopeful.

In the field your dynamics changed even more. Normally, he would make sure to be paired up with you in the field to personally ensure that you were being safe. Since the fallout however, he didn’t want to be an unwelcome presence that only left you more tense in high stake situations. So he’d do things like privately tell Emily to double check your bulletproof vest, or make sure Luke was at your 6 if he couldn’t do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was for your current circumstance with each other, one that he knows he created, to distract you in the field and god forbid cause something to happen to you. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him, but Spencer remembers he’s already done the worst hurt he can fathom to you, and what he really means is that he can’t afford to hurt you any further. As much as it worried him to do so, he had reluctantly learned to place some trust in his teammates to keep you safe. It was a balance he’d learned to adapt to.

It worked fine until it didn’t.

The silent car ride from the jet back to your apartment was so thick with tension, but not the one you’ve both become accustomed to over the weeks. No this was a different strain of anger, one that descended down to the primal nature of your relationship—you endangering yourself.

Spencer opens the door, barely waiting for you to enter behind him before slamming it shut. “That, what you did today, was fucking reckless.”

The anger flares through your widened eyes, “Reckless? I saved the hostages, Spencer. He would have killed them!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me, I had it handled.” you huff.

He raises his hands in exasperation, “He had a gun to your head!” he yells, “You have no idea what it’s like to see that.”

“This isn’t the first time someone drew a weapon on me, and there’s definitely more times than I can count when they’ve drawn one on you,” you pause, “Or is it different right now because you got deja vu?”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” Spencer’s face pales in recognition, “That’s not fair.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not fair? You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“He was going to shoot you!” he loudly repeats, “You don’t think I care about your safety?”

“I think you only give a shit right now because you thought another girl you loved was about to get her brains blown out in front of you. Again.”

He’s stunned into silence. Your words feel like a paralytic to Spencer. Like venom slowly traveling down his veins seizing any chance for his body to save himself. All the progress he thinks you both have made just unraveled itself into nothing. It’s paradoxical that his mind is quiet. You’re usually the reason his mind can relax, but somehow you’ve achieved the same outcome by metaphorically stabbing him square in the face.

He can’t understand when you developed the idea that he could care less about you. He can’t understand how you can even think he would be capable of 

of not being with you entirely. He can’t understand where along the line you started believing that he stopped loving you.

It may not be a sentiment you actually hold, but he prides himself on being a good profiler, and more so knowing you better than himself. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

He speaks under his breath after a couple of minutes,  “How long are we going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what—“

“This!” He gestures wildly with his hands. “This back and forth where you’ve convinced yourself you’re able to move past this but clearly can’t!”

You stare at him, “Look, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

The familiar sting burns the backs of your eyes, the first sign of your resolve crumbling. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs and moves closer, your head hanging low and finding the wooden floor patterns deeply interesting. “You won’t even look at me.” he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

You look up at him stunned, “Spencer…I—I do…It’s just…”

He feels his heart breaking in a new way, “That’s not convincing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess I can't,” he shakes his head defeatedly. “I don’t know what else I can do, baby.”

“…I want to forgive you.”

Spencer’s eyes blur from tears, “But you can’t.”

“I don’t know how,” you whisper before a sardonic chuckle leaves you, “You know me, memory like an elephant.”

Spencer refrains from telling you that dolphins are actually the species with the longest memory capacity, and that the reason for possessing such a feature is to maintain the social dynamics and relationships that come with survival in the ocean. A dolphin’s memory is what keeps them rooted back to where they belong, being able to remember individuals and behaviors even after being apart for so long. That no matter how far they stray, they’ll always come home. 

He settles for a soft agreement, “Yeah, I do know you.”

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, equally and tragically as broken as yours, puffy and red rimmed.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper brokenly.

“I don’t either.”

The silence weighs heavy in the living room. The metronomic tick of the clock becomes louder, the birds and the wind outside whistle louder. You’re cornered, forced to come to face the results. And like a prey backed into the corner you do what the prey do best—You run.

“I have to go.” you grab the keys and put your shoes on.

“What?” he steps closer, “You can’t just leave, we just got home.”

“I can’t be here right now,” your voice cracks, “I just…need some time to think.”l

Spencer’s heart falls straight through the floor. Time to think about what? Is this when the foundation beneath you both finally buckles under the immense pressure it’s been on for weeks, and you’re left to scavenge the ruins?

As much as it pains him to let you walk out the door, he knows that nothing would be accomplished at home and it would only hurt you more to stay.

“Okay.” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Be safe.” I love you.

You look back, “I will. You too.” I love you too.

The door shuts gentler this time, as if careful not to disturb the few pieces of Spencer still left standing behind the door. It doesn’t matter, they’ve already fallen over. Any resolve he had left is slipping away with every step you take further away, never feeling more defeated in his life than this moment.

He trudges over to the study, hoping he can at least bury himself in work to distract himself from the turmoil of his reality. The desk is strewn across with files and papers, mentally making a list of the tasks he has to do. At the top of his to-do list is the Everett Lynch case, having just closed the case a few days back meaning the paperwork would be due to the brass soon.

Spencer glances over the open file and reviews the details of the final moments of the case, recalling the stark change in Lynch’s MO that still left him puzzled. The victimology and the profile just didn’t add up to what actually happened, why he ended up dying with his mother in the house. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Spencer wasn’t supposed to send five SWAT agent in not knowing their fate only seconds later. How the case simply ended anticlimactically after nearly a year long chase. A dull ache begins to form in his head as he thinks, the bureau is going to have a field day processing this case.

He rubs his forehead with his hand to soothe the pain building up, making a note to get painkillers after he finishes. As he continues to read the file he starts to see his confusion take a basis as the initial profile doesn’t add up at all to what actually happened, in fact for as long as he evaded the FBI he really shouldn’t have just, died.

Spencer freezes. Did he die?

Lynch wouldn’t just commit suicide, that was too easy. He watched the house blow up with him and his mother inside, not even including the agents the explosion took out with it. The pain in his head is too much to bear at this point and he decides that getting Advil can’t wait until he’s done. He stands up and immediately wobbles as he grips the desk for support. Through the blurred vision and spinning room Spencer tries to makes sense of Lynch’s discrepancy. 

Everett Lynch wouldn’t commit suicide, because he didn’t. 

“He’s still alive.” he realizes gravely. Then it all goes black.

———

You get in your car and drive off to god knows where, just not there. It’s sheer autopilot driving you to the other side of town, which is more than welcomed as the tears threaten to blur your vision coming down in hot trails. You end up pulling into the parking lot of your favorite donut shop, one that you discovered with Spencer a little before you started dating. There was time to kill after being paired up to visit the unsub’s  dump site and you were so insistent about needing a sweet treat, Spencer thought it was clinical.

“You’re acting like you’ll die if we don’t stop for a, what did you call it? A sweet treat?”

“I will!” you whine, “Don’t you know that girls, specifically me, are mandated to have at least one sweet treat per day?”

He pulls into the parking lot of the donut shop he’d spotted on the way there. “Oh yeah? What happens if you don’t?” he teases.

“You’ll see me as the unsub in the next case.”

Spencer can’t help the laugh that leaves him, loud and earnest. “Alright, c’mon. We already have enough criminals to last us till retirement.”

You and Spencer are definitely not together at this moment in time, but the little old lady owner of the shop really can’t believe otherwise as she watches you both bicker about which flavors you’re getting for the half dozen box. She’s almost certain you’re together as she watches Spencer end up getting all the flavors you wanted despite putting up a fight for others. And she’s fully convinced, with no room for sway, that you are together as Spencer pulls his card out before you can even protest and watches as you miss the look he gives you as you dramatically sigh in content after the first bite.

Spencer would later tell you after a few months together, that the donut shop was the first time he realized he was in love with you. You recall how the same half dozen would appear on your desk every Friday since that first visit, with one chocolate sprinkled donut missing but placed on a napkin on Spencer’s desk. You would joke that he pavloved his way into your heart with donuts, but wouldn’t reveal your true cards that you fell in love with Spencer after a month on the job. The donut shop happened the week after.

“You alright, hon?” the little old lady owner breaks your thoughts.

You look around and realize you’ve walked yourself into the shop. You wipe at your eyes quickly, “I’m okay, Dolores. Can I just get the usual half dozen please?”

She’s not convinced but it seems she knows better than to ask and pry. She gathers the usual six donuts for the box, slipping in an extra one just for good measure, and rings you up at the register.

“Seven right?” you mumble as you file through your bag for the loose ten.

Dolores smiles, “It’s on the house today, hon. Don’t worry.”

You look up at her, knowing she’s only doing that because you showed up with tear streaks on your face, “Oh, no it’s okay you don’t have to do that let me just—“

She pushes the box towards you, “You both tip enough to cover the box anyway, please just take it. Hope you feel better soon, hon.”

Her kind gesture thaws your heart out a little and you give her a small smile. “Thanks, Dolores.”

You walk back to your car, locking the doors once you get in. You don’t move to turn the car on, opting to allow your emotions to overflow again in solitude with the comfort of a bavarian kreme donut. The tears prick your eyes on instinct thinking of the current state of your life, of your relationship.

Spencer was right, have you convinced yourself you’re capable of moving past this? You do still love Spencer, you knew that much. But you are hurt, you are tired, and you just want to stop feeling like you’ll always come in second place even when there’s no one to occupy first place. You’ve waited so long to feel chosen, like someone has waited all their life for someone like you to come around. Meeting Spencer felt like finding the little daisies that grew in between the cracks of concrete, proof that despite your stone hard exterior you were still worthy of being loved.

The sound of your phone ringing jolts you up, almost dropping your donut. With your free hand you look at the caller and press accept.

“Hi, Emily.” you try to make your voice sound even.

“Hey we’ve got a—wait are you okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, totally fine don’t worry. What’s up?”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you but Emily really doesn’t have time right now, “Listen, Lynch is still alive.”

You almost choke. “What?”

“The casualty report doesn’t include Lynch and they couldn’t find his body anywhere. While they were searching the house they found tunnels. He escaped.”

“Fuck, okay what do you need me to do?”

“There’s a gas station clerk who thinks he saw him and his car, I need you and Matt to go check it out and see what he knows.”

You scramble to put your donut down and wipe your hands on the napkin, “Yeah, of course I’m on my way.”

“Okay, Matt will meet you there,” she pauses, “I…Is Spencer with you?”

Your heart clenched again, “No, he’s not. He’s at the apartment.”

Emily hums, “He didn’t pick up when I called, it’s okay I’ll send JJ and Penelope to go get him. Reconvene at the bureau in a couple hours?”

“Sounds good.” you hang up and immediately start driving over to the gas station. Something doesn’t feel right, you can feel it in your gut. You quickly check Spencer’s location just to be safe, and relax when you see he’s still at home. He’s probably just taking a nap.

What Emily decides you can’t ever know about is the call she gets twenty minutes later from a hysterically crying Penelope, who in between sobs tells her that they’re on the way to George Washington Hospital. That when JJ and Penelope opened the door to Spencer’s apartment he was passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. How when JJ went to start CPR he entered a seizure and coded in the ambulance.

No, you can’t know this, because Emily knows that the call alone that she has to give you is going to shatter your broken pieces even further.

—

You pull out your phone to call Emily and see an incoming call from her, “Hey, I was just about to call you. The guy said he drove a red ford pickup, we were able to get the license plate from the security cameras but it came up as a stolen plate—“ 

Emily says your name in a tone you’ve never heard her use. It makes you stop in your tracks, an icy chill shooting down your spine, “What?”

“Something’s happened.”

You step outside of the gas station shop holding your breath, “What do you mean?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose, “It’s about Spencer, he’s…”

She pauses for too long. The panic rises fast. “Emily.”

“They found him passed out on the floor of his apartment. Penelope called 911 and they’re on the way to the hospital right now.”

No. 

No, no, no.

The color drains from your face as fast as your heart plunges to the ground. “Wh—what?”

She’s lying, she has to be right? You just saw Spencer literally a few hours ago and he was fine. No signs of distress or anything, she has to be lying. She has to be lying.

“The EMT thinks he has a brain bleed, it um…caused him to have a seizure when JJ and Penelope found him.”

The nausea rises before you can anticipate it, scanning your surroundings for a trash can and immediately hurling up the contents of your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you put the phone back to your ear, “Which hospital?”

“George Washington Memorial, they should already be there by now.”

“Okay, I’m on the way.” you sniffle.

Emily doesn’t know what other encouraging words she can provide you, she doesn’t think any words exist to comfort herself even let alone you. “Keep me updated please.”

The call ends and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall, head reeling with mountainous emotions and unable to make sense of any of them. 

You look around through blurred eyes for Matt calling out to him, “Matt, Matt give me the keys I need to go to the hospital.” you hold a shaky hand out.

He looks at you confused and concerned, “What? Are you okay, why do you need to go—“

“Sp—“ you stutter, unable to even speak the words into existence, “Spencer’s in the hospital.”

Matt’s face pales, “I’ll drive you, come on.”

—

“They said it’s a brain bleed.” you mumble after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“A brain bleed? How could that have…” he trails off in realization.

“What?” you ask nervously.

He grips the steering wheel harder, “The bomb, at the Lynch house.”

Fuck. The EMTs who checked him out that day said he only had a mild concussion, nothing else to be concerned about. A few cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn’t heal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

You sniffle and hastily wipe at your face again, your skin growing red with irritation with every contact.

Matt looks at you with a look he wouldn’t call pity, but certainly close, “It’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through. He always does.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as if it could prevent the fresh wave of tears from falling, “You don’t know that.”

He sighs deeply and turns into the hospital parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance, “Go in, I’ll park the car.”

You open the car door and rush inside the lobby, finding the receptionist immediately. She looks up at you and her face softens in empathy, “Who are you here for?”

“Um, Spencer Reid. He should have just gotten in.” you strain.

The receptionist clacks a few buttons on her keyboard before speaking again, “It looks like he’s in the ICU, are you blood related?”

“Are we…what?” you ask confused.

“Well honey, because he’s in the ICU we can only let in blood related family or spouses to stay with them.”

You outwardly deflate, “Oh…I—“

“She’s his fiancée!”

You look to the source of the new voice and are met with Penelope, donning matching red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Her eyes look at you in silent communication and you turn back to the desk, “Y—Yeah, I’m his fiancée.”

If the receptionist isn’t convinced she doesn’t show it, willing to turn a blind eye in pure understanding of the situation. “Room 204.”

“Thank you.” You duck down the hall scanning the numbers before coming up on 204, the door cracked open slightly. Your hand hovers over the handle in hesitation, scared of what you’ll find on the other side. Penelope comes up behind you and rests her hand on yours and helps you open the door.

The sight hits you like a truck. All the wires hooked up to his limbs pumping IV fluids and the heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. His skin is clammy, the hair sticking to his forehead. You can see that from across the room and all you can think about is how uncomfortable he must feel from the sweat coating him. You used to tease him once upon a time when he’d sometimes take multiple showers a day because of how much it bothered him.

“Another shower? Spence, our water bill is about to be crazy.”

He laughs and waves you off, “Don’t worry about that, I can charge the water bill as bureau compensation.”

“Okay, one that sounds illegal. Two, the more time you spend in the shower, the less time you spend with me.” you moan with fake petulance.

You yelp as he suddenly sneaks up behind you, caging you to his chest with his arms, “So join me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting clean?” you giggle, leaning your head back into the crevice of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “You do know what showers are for, right?”

You nod, “To get clean! It would get even dirtier before it got cleaner.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

The smile on your face grows the widest it can before you break off into a sprint down the hallway towards the bathroom, Spencer trailing behind with your laughs mixing in the light air.

You don’t know why you’re thinking so deeply about the state of his perspiration, maybe a convoluted defense mechanism your brain conjured up so you don’t have to come to terms with Spencer lying near comatose a few feet away.

Your feet hesitantly carry you closer to the bed, feeling somewhat calmed by the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lean down and look him over, as if you could see the damaged inflicted on him even though it’s nestled deep in his brain. Spencer always said his brain would lead to his demise, and you hope all those times you played it off as a joke that it cemented itself as one, a joke. That you would be able to see his hazel eyes open again and they’d fill you with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that all he needed in this world was you, and that he loved you.

You will and wish and hope to have his eyes open. You try not to think about if you’ll ever get to see them again.

A choked sob escapes your throat before you can help it, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle the impact. Spencer is hurt. Spencer is fighting for his life, and you were fighting him not even a few hours ago.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope reaches for your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “He’s gonna be okay, the doctors said the surgery went well. Just waiting for him to wake up now.”

You cry even harder and Penelope tightens her grip on you, determined to not let you fall further down the slope.

“W—We got into a fight,” you sniffle, “before I left. It was bad, Penny. He was so mad, and then I was so mad. And then I just left.”

“You didn’t know this would happen, honey. None of us did.”

“I didn’t even say I love you. Th—The last conversation we had was a fucking fight a—and now…” you cry, “He can’t die, Pen. He can’t die I didn’t even get to tell him—“

Penelope grabs your face with both of her hands, “Hey. No, we’re not doing that. We are not spiraling, not when there’s no reason to. Okay?”

Whatever response you had falls dead on your lips when you take another look at Spencer’s motionless body on the bed. The calmness on his face is a stark difference from the Spencer you saw only a few hours ago.

She was right, there’s nothing you can do right now but wait. You’d just have to trust that Spencer would pull through.

You almost chuckle dryly through the tears. Trust and Spencer? The irony of it all laughs in your face.

—

Spencer’s eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light blinding him. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the bullpen. That’s weird, he thinks, I thought I was in the study.

“Reid, you sure you don’t want to join me and Elle in Jamaica?” Derek sings, “My guy can swing you a great deal.”

Derek? Elle?

He snaps his head in the direction of the voice, seeing Derek not even looking in his direction but still looking towards Spencer. Just, a different and much younger Spencer.

“Have a great two weeks off everyone, you all deserve it. Don’t call me at my cabin.” Gideon rushes out as he beelines to the door right past Spencer. “Seriously, don’t call me.”

Gideon? But Gideon…died. Where is he?

The scene changes with a snap and suddenly he’s back in his apartment, his old apartment. The one he lived in before he moved in with you. He is definitely in a dream, though with the vividity and theme of important people in his past he’s not entirely sure he’s only sleeping. A head of blonde hair on his couch catches his eye. He slowly walks around and his breath hitches at who he sees.

“Maeve?”

She smiles softly, “Hi Spencer.”

He slowly walks around the couch and kneels in front of her. The tears prick his eyes before he can help it, “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. I—I’m so sorry for—“

Maeve holds a hand up, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, I promise. You did what you could. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

She shakes her head. “You’re dying, Spence.”

His face falls, “I am?”

“Collateral from the explosion, you have a brain bleed.”

It takes a few minutes for him to comprehend what she said, and he can feel his head spinning fast in his head. He can’t actually be dying right? The explosion happened days ago and yet now is when his brain decides to tap out, that can’t be right.

It simply cannot be right because that’s when he remembers you and the last conversation he had with you, and he has to clutch his heart at the prospect of his fate.

He won’t know if you’ll ever forgive him, if you’ll ever learn to trust him again, if you even still love him. He won’t know anything if he dies. He cannot die.

“M—Maeve, I can’t be here I—“

She places her hand atop of his own and he feels her. He can feel her hand on his, like she’s real and here.  It’s alarming, and warm. “I know, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Maeve gestures for him to follow her and before his eyes the scene changes again to a nearby park, one that looks a little too familiar to him.

She starts walking through the park, “We’re all okay up here you know? I get to read a lot more now, there’s so much time to read and postulate. Sometimes I get lucky and I can meet the authors. I got to meet Kant and Dostoevsky a while ago, very interesting people. Gideon plays with this nice little octopus friend. I know he’s having the best time.” she laughs, “But you, Spencer Reid, are not okay down there.”

He looks up at her and swallows, “I know.”

She turns onto the fork in the trail, “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I think you do know.”

A few silent minutes pass. “I…I’m scared to let myself be happy again,” he admits.

Maeve looks at him with a saddened smile, “And why’s that?”

Because everything he loves leaves him. Because when he laughs just a little too hard, he’s already scanning the surroundings waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because when Spencer feels he’s trekked up the mountain with long and winding breaths, something always seems to be waiting at the top ready to knock him down.

“Don’t think I deserve it, to be honest.” he admits, “I keep…messing up everytime.”

Maeve stops walking, “You love so deeply, Spencer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Emphasis on the curse.” he deprecates.

“It’s only a curse because you don’t let yourself feel wholly. I know given everything that’s happened it’s hard but,” she pauses, “You’re not a clipped bird, Spence. You just…lost a few feathers. Nothing you can’t get back.”

It’s easier said than done when it feels like his mere existence causes you pain as of late.

“I feel like I have to hold parts of me back so I can protect her…from myself.”

Maeve turns to him, “She deserves all of you, Spence. It is a privilege to be loved by you, but it’s a greater privilege to be loved. And you deserve to feel loved.”

“What if I ruin it?” More accurately, what if he’s already ruined it, is what he means.

“You are not destined for sorrow and misery, despite what your life has made you think. She loves you. She would not have stayed this long if she didn’t. But there is one thing I think she could use from you.”

Spencer looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“She wants to feel chosen, Spencer. And I know you think you choose her everyday just by loving her. But the reality is, you can’t fully choose her without choosing yourself first. That means allowing yourself to be happy.”

A few stray tears streak down his face and he haphazardly wipes them away. For the entirety of Spencer’s life his purpose was to be of service to others. With his intelligence, his kindness, his courage. His needs always came second because the few times he thought to put himself first, disaster struck. 

When he met you this notion only reinforced itself, wanting to ensure he could make you as happy as he could. You became his priority and he didn’t mind that at all. It was easy being with you, you made life feel easy. So when Spencer started to let his guard down piece by piece, allowing himself the little bits of your happiness to seep into his being, he wasn’t thinking about the abyss that had always loomed over him his whole life.

He couldn’t, not when you managed to infiltrate his entire existence by wrapping and tethering yourself to him with strings of gold. How could he? You made things so easy.

But then prison happened. Then Cat, again. Then Maeve, again. Three strikes. It should have been game over by now. He broke your trust, betrayed your love and he wasn’t sure if you would even stay long enough to see the damage unfold. But you did, and he still can’t really figure out why.

So here he is in limbo? Purgatory? Some figment of his mind in the wake of near death that is giving him the opportunity to make amends. Not with Maeve or Gideon or you or any other grudge he has yet to settle in his life. No, he has the chance to make amends with himself and forgive himself for standing in the way of what he really deserves.

A faint beeping in the distance reels him back to the present moment, Maeve’s face coming into focus again. The dull ache in his eyes coming forward again with how many tears are falling.

“Love is our true destiny, we do not find the meaning of it alone, we find it with another.”

He smiles with a watery chuckle, “Thomas Merton.”

“Spencer, I promise you, you will be happy again. And forever. Just keep the door open when it comes knocking.”

The beeping starts to get louder, like it’s approaching him fast. A warm glow begins to build around him, then light. He looks around the park again and sees the trees and benches begin to blur. He looks at Maeve as she stands with a fond smile, her figure slowly fading as well.

“Take care, Spencer.” and with a blink Maeve is gone.

In the silence he is left in, he looks to the epitaph of Jason Gideon in front of him and back to the spot where Maeve was standing, whispering a soft, “You too.” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the beeping.

—

It’s been 4 hours since you’ve been sat next to his bed. You’d be a lot more concerned than you were, which is already a lot, if it wasn’t for his heartbeat monitor beeping steadily throughout the hours. A sign of life, as morbid as it sounds, but it’s hard to be rational given the circumstances.

It had taken all of 3.5 hours for you to braven up and hold his hand in comfort. Hour one you simply stared at his hand, as if it would regain mobility and reach out for you. Hour two you were able to place your hand on the bed, not anywhere near his obviously. But enough to feel close, satiated. By hour three you had your fingers mere millimeters from his own, feeling like a magnetic force of the same poles was repelling you.

The 3.5 hour mark is when the exhaustion of the day caught up to you, and finally allowed yourself to relax in his hand.

At hour 4.5 is when you felt the twitch.

You look up and whisper, “Spencer?”

He slowly opens his eyes, revealing his hazel brown irises with gold flecks on the insides that meet yours sitting right beside him. You can see the recognition begin to flood his face, but is stopped momentarily when he starts to panic realizing the breathing tube is still in his throat. You hit the call button besides his bed and watch the doctors rush in to help stabilize him back down.

It’s another two hours of testing and scans before the three of you are left alone again, with the nurse promising to check on him in a few hours.

You’re stiff next to him, unsure what to do now that he’s awake and perceiving you again. With a small voice you speak, “They said they found you in the study.”

Spencer racks his brain for memories of before his fall, only able to remember bits and pieces. He remembers fighting with you and when you left. He remembers walking to the study. And he remembers reading…”Lynch! Did you get him? He’s still alive, you have to call Emily—“

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you shush. “We know he’s still alive, they’ve almost got him right now. It’s okay.”

That seems to make him visibly relax knowing the immediate stressor was almost resolved. Now there’s just the matter of the other elephant in the room.

“You’re here.”

Your eyes soften as your brows raise in shock, “Of course I’m here, Spence.”

He stares at you and takes in your features—your puffy cheeks and red eyes, the skin around your nails picked to death, your lip nearly split in half from the bites and bleeding. He needs to apologize again, he knows that. But the second he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“Penny, can you give us a minute please?”

She smiles and stands, “Sure hon, I’ll be right outside.”

Once she leaves you turn back to Spencer, “We don’t have to talk about all of that anymore, it’s okay. You’re hurt and that’s more important right now.”

He should have expected that you would do this, selflessly push your discomfort and feelings down because someone you cared about was hurting. It was one of the few things he didn’t like that you did, and he’s not going to let it go again.

“Angel, you can’t forgive me just because you thought I was going to die.” he says sadly.

You’re taken aback. “I—I know.”

He swallows, “I really want you to.”

Your eyes blur again, “I know.” Another pause. “I’m trying really hard.”

A gentle squeeze, “I know.”

“I…I still love you, Spence. I don’t think that will ever change, but I’m nervous if one day it won’t be enough…that I won’t be enough.” you trail off.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t done a very good job at convincing you yet. It still hurts knowing that you feel that way.

“Do you know what I thought about everyday when I was in Millburn?”

You shake your head as he continues, “I thought about how when you eat cupcakes you tear the bottom half and stick it on top to make a cupcake sandwich. When we’re watching Doctor Who and you’re singing along to the theme song with only syllables. How you let me eat the olives on your plate and I give you the pickles on mine.”

“Why would you be thinking about that?” you ask confused.

“Because I don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t.”

The lump forms in your throat, “But…you took me off the visiting list after the first time I came to see you.”

“I couldn’t let you keep seeing me like that, honey.” he strains, “The way they were looking at you, what they did to me. I had to protect you.”a

You swallow hard, a few tears falling down your face, “Th—That’s not fair, Spence. I understand why you did it, but then when all the other shit happened… I don’t know what I was supposed to believe. I couldn’t stop wondering if I ever was enough for you.”

Spencer can feel his heart splintering.

“You will always be enough, because it is always you. God, sweetheart it’s not even a question of how much, it just is. I see you in everything I do—you’re the tangled headphones we use to listen to music flying back on the jet. You’re the annotations I make when I read something that reminds me of you, or if I think you’d enjoy it. You’re the smell of bavarian kreme donuts from Dolores’ even though the chocolate sprinkle ones are far superior.”

His heart blooms hearing a soft giggle from you, an earnest smile forming on your face.

“You are entangled in the things that make me happy, and you make them too good to be true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I meant it when I said I would spend all of time making it up to you. You are my Catalina comet, and I love you.”

You can’t help the sob that leaves you as you remember the memory.

“I’m cold Spence, are you sure we’ll be able to see it?”

He tugs you closer under his arm as he keeps trekking to find the perfect spot, a chaste kiss to your temple, “I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, I think it's a good spot over there.”

You help Spencer set out the blanket on the ground and use the extra one to wrap around you both, huddling closer together as you wait for the celestial body to make its appearance.

“The first time they did the calculations they used old observational data that led to some incorrect results, and they thought the orbit was only four years.”

“They just got it wrong?”

“Not everyone gets it right on the first try, sweet girl.” he says softly, “But then they did the math again, made sure all the factors and numbers were correct. And you know what they found?”

You ponder for a moment, “Did they realize the orbit was longer?”

Spencer beams down at you, “My smart girl. That’s exactly what they found. So when they did the calculations again, they found out that the Catalina comet is even more special than anyone thought. It’s even more of a rare sighting to get to see it, once in a lifetime really.”

You hang onto his every word, captivated by the story, “Do people wish on comets?” you ask doe eyed.

His hand smooths your hair back, “They do, some say the rarer comets have extra special energy to aid their wishes.”

You look at him skeptically, “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you?”

You look back to the sky, “I think I do.”

Spencer doesn’t look away from you, “Then I do too.”

You giggle and lightly shove him, “Cheesy…” He smiles fondly and pulls you closer into his chest, his arms warming you up before you gasp, “Look!”

There across the night sky streaks the Catalina Comet in all her glory, Spencer watches the comet track through Ursa Major and before he can start telling you about why it goes that path, you’ve already clamped your eyes shut and squeezed his hand, silently gesturing for him to do the same.

He complies, obviously. You open your eyes again after making your wish, “Did you make yours?”

Spencer opens his eyes and admiringly looks at you, “Yeah, I did angel.” 

He didn’t need to make any wishes.

“Spence…” you whine through sobs.

His hand comes up shakily to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “Didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.”

“Well, what did you expect by bringing that story up?” you laugh with fake anger.

“To be fair, you were already crying.” he chuckles.

You scoff, “Mean.” You look at his eyes, and really look at him and see nothing but love and adoration staring back at you. You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” his eyes soften, you continue, “I love you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, “I love you so much. I’m sorry again, sweet girl.”

You lean up to him on the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips, and Spencer can feel his wounds start to hurt less and less. “You should get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You make yourself as comfy as you can whilst sat on the armchair, bent over to be able to rest your head next to Spencer. It feels okay for a bit, and then he tangles his hand in your hair gently moving back and forth and suddenly you’re satisfied with never moving ever again.

The quiet air between you both is enough to lull you to sleep, before a thought runs through your mind.

“You know something funny,” you mumble, “Pen told the receptionist I was your fiancée so they’d let me see you.”

And poor Spencer, in between his sleepy haze and the dull ache of pain from his injuries, only hears the word fiancée.

“You found the ring?” he sighs, “I thought I hid it well.”

You still under his hand.

“…There’s a ring?”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he misheard you and tries to play it off, “So…Penelope lied to staff. Tsk Tsk.”

“There’s a ring.” you say pointedly, the corners of your lips upturned to reach a smile.

Spencer thinks he can try and get out of this but decides it’s better to come clean, “Fine, okay. Of course there’s a ring.”

“Of course?”

The surprise on your face honestly stuns Spencer, and he feels a little saddened that you were in disbelief of the possibility.

“Yeah baby, of course.”

Your bottom lip wobbles with a creeping suspicion of his answer, “How long have you had it?”

“Got it after our six month.”

You shakily exhale. There is no ounce of doubt in your body that he loves you, and that you really are all he needs. “ ‘M sorry I ruined the surprise.”

He grins, “It’s okay, you won’t know when I’m going to do it. It’ll knock you off your feet, I promise.”

You definitely aren’t expecting it during a Planetarium date months later where he got the museum people to show the Catalina Comet passing over you both as he got down on one knee. You are expecting the endless stream of tears from the both of you, the aching cheeks from smiling too much, and the multiple missed attempts at sliding the ring on from how much you both were shaking.

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your best friend fell asleep on you, and suddenly he wasn't your friend anymore 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. kiss wc : 807HUN ++( 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 )

노트 mark, as promised <3

You don’t know how it happened, however you weren’t complaining. No, nothing of the sort even crossed your mind. 

All that was on your mind was how comfortable you felt despite the pins and needles in your hip. How warm you felt with arms wrapped around your waist. You could hear soft breaths taken against the silent air—your show lost on the ‘continue watching’ screen some time ago. 

You’d blinked yourself awake a couple of minutes ago, not even realizing that you’d actually fallen asleep. When you woke up, you didn’t even know what day it was anymore either, pushed into the worst brain fog. However, the dream you were having was all sunshine and rainbows, you almost regretted coming back to reality. Well, that was until you saw that your best friend, Mark, had also fallen victim to just resting his eyes. 

But then, reality hit, making your stomach drop. 

Your best friend had fallen asleep too, somehow ending up with his head pressed into your side and arms paralyzing. 

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about reveling in such an intimate thing for friends to be doing. Of course you’d shared hugs and even held hands, Hell, it seemed he couldn’t be more than a couple inches from you sometimes, but that was always innocent. That was always because you were feeling uncomfortable, or anxious or something of the sort. 

There was never anything between the lines to read. 

Butterflies made you nauseous. You liked the feeling he instilled, but you hated that you shouldn’t actually be feeling it at all. 

Should you wake him up? You could pretend you hadn’t been staring at him for the past however long then. But, on the other hand, you could make it a thing. Afterall, It was an opportunity to make the feeling yours to hold—make him yours to hold. 

But No. No, you couldn’t. 

You were friends, nothing more and nothing less. There were never any shades of gray. No stolen glances or prolonged eye contact. There was no tension, no lingering touches or sense of fleeting time. There was nothing, and you didn’t know anymore if you could take it. 

People hadn’t even mistaken you for a couple before, and it hurt your pride a bit. 

Why couldn’t you swallow it down and ask? Too scared to lose what you already had? Circles and circles you’d been running, but not getting very far. All the destinations led back to one thing—one very, very special man. 

The man you loved. 

You groaned at the thought, head hitting the arm of the couch. And suddenly Mark was awake, very aware of the position you two were in. It was your movement of disappointment (in yourself) that stirred him, your breathing and heartbeat queuing him in. The soft plush that only a body had, making him get up faster than you thought humanly possible. 

“Oh my God,” He put his hands up like he was surrendering, “I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep after you. I didn’t mean to,” 

You lifted your head through all the commotion, being met with the sight that made your heart pick up speed. He looked so adorable half-awake; hair messy, and features swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, “It just happened, like on an airplane when your head just—you know, drifts. You looked so peaceful, I guess I got jealous.” He tried to joke, an awkward laugh leaving his lips after the rant subsided. 

You’d sat up some time during when he was talking at you, “It’s fine,” You sighed, now regretting ruining the moment more than turning your good dream off like the show you hadn’t been comprehending. 

He was right, it was peaceful. 

Mark brought peace to your life, a sense of clarity during the worst storm you’d ever lived through. He was the rain that brought flowers, the rainbow that brought color. 

He was everything right in a left world. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” 

And just as quickly as he’d lifted from you, he was back in your space, this time soft lips against yours. Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, then his were too. 

His mouth was slightly parted, broken sounds leaving it without real substance. You assumed they’d be more apologies, so before he had the chance to gather his thoughts you leaned back in, closing the distance you thought you’d put between you two. 

Your hands found the side of his head, palms resting on his cheeks, pulling him as close as you could get. And, he didn’t protest. 

You couldn’t decide if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up, because if you were having a good dream before, then this was the best one. 

Your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips, gold medal acrobatics. But, at least, you could say the feeling was yours. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

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[revelboo]

God hi I know it SUPER isnt gonna happen like this obvs but I'm just imagining EIA Shockwave Staring at the Two Sparkbonds in the human and is like Quiet and somehow figures out the second is Megatron and he doesnt say SHIT and is just like "Uhhhh yeah. Human's fine. Soundwave, please stay back so we may talk" and Sounders just like "Mkay" and so Star and the human leave and stuff and Soundwave is like "Query: What is it that Shockwave wishes to tell me" and Shockwave is just like "Bestie idk how to say this but I think Lord Megatron is what the humans call a homewrecker." And Soundwave has to play. SO cool about everything.

🤣 Shockwave is just assuming the other bond is Soundwave’s and he just can’t understand the appeal- thinks they’re both deviants. I’ve started going back trying to add warnings to the first chapters of everything, so folks don’t get surprised if the run into my stories in the wilds of Tumblr

Psst psst @thegarageafterdark aka Storm is one of my writer buddies who convinced me to even consider Transformers smut back in the day and she’s started a Tumblr. She does fated mates Transformers stuff for Bayverse and G1

Everything Is Alright Pt 129

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wincing as Shockwave just stares at you, you’re not about to admit the other bond is Megatron’s. Can’t imagine the Decepticon leader would want that to get out. And Soundwave rescues you by reaching out to run a servo affectionately against your cheek. Making Shockwave stare at him instead, antenna back. You’re pretty sure the scientist just thinks you’re all three a bunch of freaks at this point. If he realized Megatron was also involved, he’d probably literally blow a gasket. “If a spark was to form from a full bond-” Starscream begins and Shockwave growls.

• “Illogical,” Shockwave snarls, turning away with his scanner, studying the readings. Wings lifting in affront, Starscream growls back at the scientist. Not liking the other mech’s dismissive tone. “No sparks are possible with an organic,” Shockwave adds, tone almost angry. Like the very fact that he wanted to spark you is deviant. That he wants you is obscene. Tempting him to lash out at the bigger mech to defend you. Except you might get hurt if he does, worry for you chaining his temper. But it’s something he can’t forget or forgive even if they will need his skills eventually.

• Servo trembling where he’s got it against your cheek, Soundwave wants to take you from Starscream. Press his face against you to feel the beat of your heart, your warmth. Unable to really believe that he can have this without risking everything else he has. And the Seeker scowls at him when he gives in and cups his hands around you, lifting you close. “Little one.” Just needs to hold you, to ground himself in you, because he can repair that broken bond now without any guilt. Can really have everything.

• Gently pinned against his battle mask, you’re aware of the way Shockwave stiffens. Apparently not liking the display of affection. Or you. Pretty sure that he has some sort of issue with you in particular that you can’t figure out. Maybe he’s just xenophobic? And nobody has answered your ‘how long do Cybertronians live’ question which is beginning to worry you. There’s a niggling little worry in the back of your mind about that. Because you’d been in Star and Megatron’s memories and there’d been a lot to parse through, but no real concrete sense of time. Startling when Soundwave retracts his mask and brushes his mouth against your body, apparently not caring about Shockwave watching. Had he been really worried about how long humans live?

• Wings flicking as Soundwave rubs his face against you, venting softly, Starscream wants to be angry still about you and the communications officer. To resent that you love him, too. To ask who you love more even if he’s terrified of what your answer would be. Reminding himself that you’d chosen him. Bonded fully to him. No one can take that from him. “We got our answers,” he mutters, because as entertaining as watching the scientist’s obvious discomfort watching Soundwave is, he wants some quiet time with you. Wants to talk without Soundwave or Megatron listening in. Pretend it’s just you two like it had been back then when he was happiest. Figure out this new dynamic with the other two. His new Trine.

• Following Starscream out into the hall, he’s aware that he’s getting looks. That most of the Decepticons aren’t used to seeing his exposed face. Or it could be you as he nuzzles against your body to make you squirm with breathless little protests. And he stops short when the Seeker stops, wings lifting before Starscream starts laughing. Leaning, he looks down at Rumble and Frenzy and the little human they have in tow, Rumble’s arm around them. “Oh. Hi, boss,” Rumble says as Frenzy tries to pull the human into his arms. Head lifting to stare at Thundercracker, the Seeker carrying plastic boxes full of stuff, his wings flaring like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And you’re twisting to look too as the other human notices you and waves. “So, we need our own habsuite,” Rumble adds as Starscream keeps laughing.

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[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

He gets me so high

ty to that one anon who gave me the idea for this

tecnically this takes place between parts 4 and 5

so i guess this would be part 4.5?

anon ily for givijg me this idea

kind of a short chapter lol

You got into an argument earlier.

It wasn't over anything serious, you don't even remember what it was about.

All you remember is Damian telling you you weren't worthy of being part of his father's bloodline.

That stung a little.

You tried defending yourself and telling the others in hopes of others taking your side.

Only for everyone to take his.

"He's had a hard life," Dick said to you, still looking at Damian.

"So have I!" went unsaid, as you put your head down and looked at the floor.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair how he walked away Scott free smirking as if he won!

It isn't fair how you were the only one scolded by Alfred and Bruce for arguing!

It isn't fair how you ran to your room to cry!

It isn't fair how you had no one on your side!

You needed someone on your side.

After a while of sobbing on your pillow (which was now wet), you felt your phone buzz and your ringtone go off. You were getting a call from Hobie.

It wasn't rare for him to call you, all of the spider-kids call each other at random times of the day to just talk about whatever.

One time you called them all at 3 am because you thought of a dumb invention that 'could change lives', only for Gwen to tell you it already existed, and didn't change lives.

One time, Miles called you to tell you he got 100 on his physics test.

One time, Hobie called you because he didn't know how long he should cook something in the microwave.

One time, Peni called you to tell you how she accidentally bought 3 copies of the same book. Again.

One time, Gwen called you at 1 am to ask if you could dye her hair again since her hair dye was fading again.

One time, Pavitr called you to ask which Valentine's gift he should give Gayatri since he was stuck between two options. He ended up choosing both gifts for her.

It was normal for everyone to call anyone for any reason.

You tried to wipe your tears and clear your voice so you could pretend you were fine, and you picked up the phone to talk to him.

As soon as you picked up, he started rambling about how his day went.

You didn't mind calling him, it took your mind off things.

Hobie felt something was off. Sure, you were listening to him intently, but you usually had your camera on and played with stupid filters while he talked. You didn't have your camera on like usual.

He decided to not bring it up and just let you tell him when you were ready.

"Anywho, I bought around 54 boxes of Girl Scout cookies-" Hobie said, while holding up a box of Thin Mints to the camera

"why did you buy 54??" you said in disbelief, your voice slightly cracking, which you cringed at.

"Don't worry about it." you laughed a little at that.

"Keep your window open, I'm on my way." you saw him start walking on camera

"Why?" you asked

"Get ready, we're going out," he said while grabbing 5 boxes of the Girl Scout cookies.

He hung up before explaining anything.

You got up from your bed and decided to fix yourself up a bit before he came over.

You redid your makeup because it smeared while you were crying.

After 5 minutes, you heard a knock on your window.

You went to see what it was, and Hobie was knocking at your window looking a little stupid.

You unlocked it and opened the window.

"I thought you were gonna unlock it?" Hobie said already looking around your room and making himself at home.

He and the others have come over a lot, it's somewhat surprising that none of your family noticed.

"I forgot!" you said while shrugging your shoulders. It wasn't a lie, you did forget.

"You're always forgetting, never remembering," Hobie said, lying on your comfy bed.

"Okay so I forget a couple of times and suddenly I'm always forgetful, I dye Gwen's hair and cut my own, does that make me a barber?" you said, dramatically before flopping onto your bed next to Hobie.

"So, what's got you all miffed?" he asked while playing around with a plushie that was on your bed.

"What do you mean?" you sat up to look at him in confusion.

"Miffed: somewhat annoyed; peeved," Hobie explained.

"No, not about what miffed means, I know what that means, but what do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I mean, you look pissed, what happened?" he asked, while playing around with a volleyball he got from who knows where.

You started fidgeting with your hands. "Well, me and Damian got into an argument earlier. I don't even remember what it was about. He said I wasn't worthy of Bruce's blood. Which honestly did hurt a little. What really pissed me off was how no one took my side. How no one defended me. How no one checked up on me after I ran to my room and cried." A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Hobie sat up and cleared the tear away from your cheek. "C'mon Tinkerbell, let's get outta here," He said, while getting up and stretching.

"And go where?" you got up as well.

"Anywhere. It's clear everyone here is bonkers." He started walking towards your window.

"Okay, just gimmie a sec!" You ran to grab your wallet and phone and followed him out the window.

You were now atop the bat signal, next to Hobie.

After raiding a gas station for its snacks (which you knew Alfred would never approve of) you guys were just sitting down in silence.

It was pretty nice, you were leaning on Hobie as he lit up what you thought was a cigarette.

Turns out it wasn't. You realized as soon as the smell of weed hit you.

You watched as he passed you the blunt, "Want a hit?"

You hesitated for a moment. What would your family think about this?

Hobie saw you hesitating, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable said "Don't do it if you don't want to."

You decided to do it.

Fuck what your family thinks about this.

Fuck your family. Fuck them all. Fuck Damian, fuck Dick, fuck Jason, fuck Bruce, and fuck Alfred.

They didn't care, they didn't defend you, they don't notice you, why would they notice or care about this?

They were probably dressed in their stupid spandex costumes beating people up.

A long time ago you longed and begged to be one of them.

What is the worst that can happen anyway?

"pass me it."

Hobie then taught you how to do it. It was a bit scary for you, you haven't ever smoked or done weed or anything before.

You took a hit and immediately started coughing.

"You alright there, luv?" You gave him a thumbs up before taking a couple more hits and getting a hang of it.

You guys started devouring the snacks and telling dumb stories.

You fell off due to jumping to the light from the batsignal suddenly turning on and scaring you. You laughed when Hobie had to pick you up from the rooftop.

You could stay like this forever, just you and your big brother.

hi guys heres some fluff and angst

i feel like since writing these silly little stories my writing has gotten a tiny bit better

im not sure tho

anyways anon ty again i loved writing this

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213

[keeheauxtales]

here’s a quick confession: I likely was the one who requested this drabble, and baby, did Mikha deliver or what?! 🥵😍

however, I felt compelled to return to my stephenyoonkeeholdup roots and build upon this since then, and I finally found it in me to finish it! I feel just a little rusty, but I still ultimately enjoyed writing this!

for anyone who comes across this (MDNI‼️): enjoy! 🤍

S.I.S (Self-Indulgent Series) | VOL. 2

I See U 🔞👀

pairing: switch!keeho stephen (with a bit of a perverted edge?) x [poc-inspired] switch!fem-bodied reader (reader’s pov)

content warnings: reader's a bit of a cougar (but only by a couple years in this scenario, wherein keeho is the same age as reader's sister), use of a metaphor involving an element of catholicism… i'm also (still) experimenting with only using 'stephen' throughout this piece. and since beginning this S.I.S series, i've joined the growing(?) population of "big dick keeho truthers" here. 🤭

themes: oral (m and f receiving), mutual masturbation, needy!kee!, edging, dirty talk, air fucking??

word count: ~2.2k (lowercase intended)

i’ll be goddamned… my sister’s bestie was in my room… jerking himself silly… on my bed! the audacity of this motherfucker, i swear! i always peeped that about stephen, though; how little to nothing will stop him from achieving whatever he wants to achieve. it’s a whole other animal — when it clicks in my mind — that he clearly wants to achieve something with his best friend’s older sister… with me.

“I can’t get this feeling… out of my body tonight

I know I need you

If you like that feeling… inside of your body

Let me know and fuck with me now.”

— 🎵🎶 “With Me” | DVSN

in the same capacity, i’m nosy to no end, and that too can more often than not lead to consequences. such as, inadvertently intruding on someone’s privacy. however, it’s valid when that ‘someone’ intrudes all up in your personal living space, unprovoked.

“what the fuck?” i spit out, feeling my blood pressure rising with every step i take into my bedroom, approaching a [fine, sexy] guy i only know by association. as i close and lock the door, i see poor stephen visibly shake as he attempts to crawl backwards with his dick all out.

“fuck!” he spits out in response, eyes widening while still evidently clouded with lust for the subject matter walking toward him. “shit, i’m so fucking sorry…” he then takes a pillow near him to cover his junk, seemingly letting out a moan at the contact… because don’t think i didn’t clock how hard his cock was even now.

“nah, don’t be sorry now,” i retaliate, quickly moving the pillow, and replacing it with my hand. even i consider how bold this is, but i clearly heard my name leave that pretty mouth of his several minutes prior.

stephen is unable to stop the moans from escaping him while my hand goes from just palming his surprisingly big dick to stroking it at a casual pace.

“was this what you wanted when you called my name earlier?” i inquire, my eyes staring right into his.

he gulps before answering breathlessly, “to an extent..?”

"what exactly did you want then?" i question further, an eyebrow raised.

"i want to fuck you."

alrighty then! it didn't matter that his answer was as clear as day before i ‘barged’ into all this; it was him being so damn blunt. i guess he figured that it was impossible (and unnecessary) to even attempt beating around the bush about it.

"you better be grateful i want you to…" i would've ran him out of my room pants-less otherwise, but i wasn't about to just let him have his way so quickly. i begin to confess as i lower myself to my knees like he's a priest, and i'm asking for forgiveness instead of confirming permission. "you better be glad i'm as curious as i am about those looks you give me every time i come around you, my sister, and your little friend group."

"mmm…" is all that stephen utters, his eyes closing as i continue to grind my hand all around his thick, veiny shaft, inadvertently using a bit of his release as a sort of lubricant.

"be glad i want to know how you feel inside me…" i say before opening my mouth to slowly take him in. i look up to see him squeeze his eyes shut, feeling his cock pulsate in my mouth, which made my pussy do the same beneath me.

"f-fuck?" stephen exhales as he immediately thrusts up into my mouth, making me gag as the tip brushes against the back of my throat. i don't want to look away from such a pretty sight above me, even as I'm struggling to breathe.

he's so big? i think to myself as i bob my head along his cock, moaning around his length, beginning to caress his thighs and stomach. i brush against the hem of his shirt, the drying spot from when it was in his mouth of all places, thus reminding me of just what got us in this predicament in the first place. without me even asking (and quite frankly, i was too willingly preoccupied to), stephen finally discards of the shirt, revealing tan skin that was more gorgeous than i might've even imagined.

“mmm…” it became my turn to moan out as my bottom lip rested on his mushroom tip, “you taste really fucking good, steph.” i drag a hand of mine down underneath him to grab at his balls, and he starts to lose it.

“shitshitshit… (y/n)!” stephen whines, and my own name sounds like music to my ears coming from him, making me moan as drops of precum land on my tongue. i lean back to swallow the sweet taste before engulfing his cock in my mouth again. "oh my god, you’re gonna make me cum, keep suck—"

as much as i didn’t wanna do it, after my head promptly dipped to meet my hand a couple more times, i draw back completely, feeling a bit diabolical. i surpress a smirk as i wipe saliva from my mouth, licking my lips after.

“i waited to walk into my room ‘til i saw you clean your hand of all evidence of your nasty thoughts about me,” i clasped my fingers in between the fingers of that very hand of his before resuming my little spiel. “so you can wait your turn for seconds. i wanna play catch-up with you.”

i had brought stephen’s fingers to the spot that became just as permeated as the bottom of his shirt — the center of my short bottoms. i could barely hear the gasp i saw leave his mouth over the boisterous noises that had left mine immediately upon impact.

“god, i need that in my mouth,” stephen exhales, his free hand latching onto the waistline of my shorts. i let go of his other hand to assist in discarding them completely. however, i don’t move quite yet once i feel fabric hit my knees, my eyes piercing down at the increasingly needy boy sat beneath me. “please!”

“good boy,” i coo at him mischievously, moving my hands to cup his face in between them. he looked so cute as he glanced up at me, a hint of softness showing in his eyes despite the overwhelmingly obvious lust.

his gaze follows my bottoms down my legs, letting out a drawn-out moan at my exposed cunt before dragging two of his fingers along my folds. i reply to stephen’s low moans with a few of my own, feeling (and hearing) just how wet i already was.

by then, my hands had found their place down in between his neck and shoulders, my fingers digging into them as i feel his fingers dig into my dripping cunt way too easily.

“fuck… you must’ve been wanting me just as bad, huh?” stephen asks with twice as much curiosity as he feigns a tone of cockiness.

“don’t — fuck! — get too excited, boy,” i respond with my own portion of botched boldness. i’m the one whose juices are landing on my bedroom floor… now onto my bed… while one of stephen’s hands is on the small of my back guiding me back onto the mattress to join him, his other hand remains pumping into me at a ruthless, nonstop pace. it’s not long before my knees buckle, and my ass lands in between his open legs.

i attempt to crawl over to stephen when my hand instinctively gravitates around his dick again, pulsing as i pump my hand around him, and i just know his hand has to be soaking now. my face is mere centimeters from his gorgeous face, and i almost forget how to breathe.

sticking my tongue out, i (after brief thought of how insane all of this was) lick stephen’s gaping bottom lip, inviting him to kiss me as we continue feeling each other up from below — which he does… very feverishly.

i can’t help but match his energy – and volume – when he proceeds to thrust three of his fingers at this moderate speed, yet each hit is so aggressive that my legs begin to shake. the both of us can’t seem to help the overflow of obscenities that spill over into each other’s mouths in between languid kisses.

after a while of messily making out, our mouths are left gaping open, facial expressions mirroring the other as i notice stephen’s eyes glued to my lower body. almost completely distracted, my hand slows around his throbbing cock. one way or another, he seemed determined for someone to reach their climax.

“wanna cum… wanna make you cum…” stephen begins to mindlessly ramble in between panted moans and groans.

“you still want to taste me?” i ask, just as breathless as he is, yet just barely able to remember what he said earlier.

“god, yes… so bad… please?” stephen pleads, complete with such an irresistible doe-eyed gaze that i find myself crawling up toward the headboard, grabbing onto it as i lower myself onto his face.

at the last possible second, i notice stephen’s thick tongue completely hung out like his cock. but before my body could properly react to that, i feel its heat enter the heat of my wetness, and i can’t seem to stop the whimpers i let out, or my legs from shaking.

“oh fuck!” i yell out breathlessly, gripping the headboard tighter, but not as tight as stephen is gripping my waist — and definitely not as tight as my walls are gripping his tongue.

i raise my body up and down as stephen’s tongue curls itself in alternating directions, and the moans he lets out from underneath me cause my back to arch as I respond with similar (louder) sounds.

“fuck! steph…” i groan, beginning to fuck myself on his tongue — not his face, but his mouth — as i feel (and hear) soft, plump lips sucking intently on my pussy lips. his hands have went from around my waist to gliding all around my lower back, a couple of surprise smacks coercing me into fucking his face with one of my hands lodged in between hair follicles.

with his huge hands gripping all on my ass, i roll my hips to grind against him unabashedly, feeling his tongue dip a bit deeper in between my walls. in response to the tip of it flicking rapidly before continuing to suck every bit of arousal he possibly could out of me, i let out moans laced with so much debauchery that i scare myself.

i barely sense the adjustment and movement stephen makes with the rest of his body in the midst of all this face fucking i’m doing, but his head is beginning to be engulfed by pillows — my pillows — and i feel the bed shift a bit different than my body is moving. i slowly turn around as much as i can to find him thrusting up into the air while still managing to lick and suck me into what could be one of the best orgasms of my life.

i reach back and wrap a hand back around his cock, feeling precum as well as vibrations from between my legs as stephen hums in a higher pitch. at this point, i feel like i’m riding a mechanical bull, especially once my hand lands on his sack again.

with his mouth becoming a bit harsher with its’ actions, stephen begins bucking his hips up, my fist full of his dick as he sporadically fucks up into it. he won’t stop moaning into my dripping cunt, and i can’t help groaning at how good he feels.

“fuck, stephen… you feel so fucking amazing, shit!” i cry out, feeling my legs shake yet again even harder than before. his tongue flicks along my clit rapidly and repeatedly, and i feel my stomach tighten… but once again, not as tight as my walls are around that muscle of his. “fuck, i’m gonna cum!”

i hear stephen let out a long, loud muffled moan as some sort of response, his cock twitching in my hand while his fingers begin clawing into the skin of my lower back. my other hand — that never left the top of his head — grabs the back of his head, pushing his mouth just that much further into my warmth, but only for a moment as my wetness begins to take over.

“oh my god, steph…” i exhale as i feel goosebumps all over my body while i release into his mouth. seconds later, my hand becomes just as coated with his cum as his was in the beginning of all this.

moments later, after we both regain any semblance of composure, i’m laid out next to (but opposite) stephen as he takes my cum-covered hand, and sucks my fingers clean of all evidence of his vulgar thoughts about me. i see him sneak a glance at my alarm clock before speaking.

“looks like we have probably 30 minutes before we’re not alone anymore…” he states between kisses he plants on each of my knuckles. “do you wanna keep going?” a pause as his voice deepens, “because i genuinely wanna fuck you into your mattress right now.”

the moan that escapes my lips before sitting up was downright incontinent. with a hand on his chest, i push stephen back down before making intense eye contact with him.

“if that’s what you want… then fuck me, baby boy.”

it was one of keeho’s guilty pleasures where he liked to touch himself at the thought of you even if you were merely a few rooms away, even if you were one of his best friends’ sibling.

keeho had the rim of his shirt stuffed in his mouth when he was pumping himself dry as his mind thought of the most impure and racy things about you, and that included fucking you dumb and filling you up with his cum.

throwing his head back with a whine, keeho’s whines were loud despite the fabric in his mouth, slowly dampening due to his saliva. his hips buck up into his hand as he grips himself a little too hard, tears brimming his eyes as he shut his eyes hardly.

he whines and pants, “y/n..” keeho moans with a mouthful of his shirt, chest heaving with pants as he helplessly bucked his hips up.

when keeho was spurting his cum all over his hand, he would’ve never known that you had seen him through the door’s gap that he unintentionally left open when he hurriedly went in and touched himself at the thought of you.

[glassrowboat]

In Your Capable Hands. Mydei.

Summary: Chartonus himself claims Mydei's weapon holds divinity, majesty, and compassion all in the temper of a single spear head, a fitting weapon for a man like him. Regal, seemingly unforgiving, but kind all the same. It's why you never hesitate to take the blade from him even when it's still covered in blood to wash it all away despite the thoughts that still linger in your mind about the man from Castrum Kremnos.

I should not be trusted with my knowledge of blacksmithing// Suggestive //not proofread, but it's 1am for me

The towel in your hands had received one cut already, splitting it in half on the edge of a dull blade. It was desperate to stay together, even if it meant a few scraggly bits of red string dyed in the ichor of life were the only thing keeping it whole; as one.

Beneath the cloth was a spear, one that had also been broken. Time and time again, you had fixed it at the behest of your master Chartonus, only to have to once again piece it back together the next time Mydei had come to the smithy with guilt on his face and an apology for being too rough with your work. Yet he would always do it again.

At first you had told him off, or tried to, as you told him he needed to prioritize his weapon just as much as a man would his life, but....well, it made sense that argument hadn't exaclty resonated with him.

So once again, you sat at your workbench with Mydei waiting paitently at the counter. His arms were crossed as he watched the people pass by. Two little boys had stopped to say hello. To call him their big brother and share how excited they are for their next training session before running along as children do. Another had been one of his own men. They only exchanged a brief nod before they both went along their day. And lastly, there was you: occasionally given a word or two as you worked.

It helped pass the time, so you welcomed it well enough, answering any questions he had about how busy you had been today or your thoughts on the weather. Small talk, really, but it helped keep your mind busy enough and wouldn't distract you from what you were trying to get done.

Finally, you tossed the rag aside. It landed with a wet thwap in the metal bin.

"It's not broken. It just needs some sharpening." You said as you lifted the spearhead up to catch a stray beam of light.

Those with an untrained eye wouldn't even notice the cracks in the blessed metal, but those that could would always see it clear as day. It almost reminded you of kintsugi, but this was your masters work and not someone with an eye for gold who needed to pieceback together a broken bowl.

"That's fine." You heard behind you, Mydei's gruff voice filling your ears now that there wasn't a hammer going to town on an unfinished sword.

"Right, just give me a moment, then."

His head turned back to look at you, golden eye watching as you pried the nails keeping it mounted to the polished shaft and dropped them back down into a tin you kept close by for the smaller objects. It was full of tiny knicknacks just as much as it was full of soot and dust.

"What do I owe you for this?"

"The same as usual."

Meaning: Aglaea would cover it.

He hummed at that, wordlessly telling you he heard what you said.

"You know, with the amount of times I've done this for you, I'd think you would have figured it out on your own." Your hand dropped into the bucket of water at your side to pull out the whetstone. It had been soaking for long enough now, to the point you hadn't spotted a single bubble rising to the top of the water to pop open once it was exposed to the open air.

You wiped your hand off on your pants as Mydei spoke.

"I find it's best to leave this to someone who knows exactly what they're doing."

"If you say so. Or maybe you just can't get the hang of it."

The blade met the rock before you with a soft tap as you adjusted the angle, doing your best to get the proper forty-five degree angle you wanted before starting. The moment you did, you ran the blade up and down the block. You had once compared the grating to nails on a chalkboard, and in a way, you did still feel that same soft withdrawal tugging at you, but it came with a tinge of comfort now instead of a need to make it stop.

Your hands did the rest. Years of practice paying off as muscle memory took over, leaving your mouth free to prattle.

"Well, I can always walk you through it." You offered.

"There's no need."

"It'll be good to know."

His boots thudded behind you, creating a soft click every time the heel met the bricks below you both as Mydei slowly approached to stand behind you. You could feel him towering over you from where you sat. Even when you were standing, he always had to look down at you, leaving you feeling small in comparison, but the way his shadow loomed over you now as it blocked out the light coming from Kephale only made you all the more aware of that fact. "I already know how. I just want to leave the proper care to someone who knows how to treat it delicately."

The grating stopped for just a moment as your hands stilled. "Yeah? So you know that you have to start at the base before working your way up to the tip?"

"I know you skipped honing the blade."

"...Wasn't needed."

Your attention narrowed back on the blade, its distinct smell of rusted blood drowned out by...him. It was obvious he hadn't stopped by the baths to wash off before visiting you, clearly finding his weapon for more importance, leaving Mydei covered in sweat that had yet to be washed away. You had picked it up before when you had taken the spear from him after he had dropped it on the work table, but now it was suffocating you.

Gone was the ash you knew was filling your nostrils and staining the black from keeping the fire beside you both alight and roaring.

"And I would have done it, possibly ruining the blade in the process and having to bring it back here regardless. I'm just being efficient."

The thought to shoot back with the fact a metal blessed by the Titan's themselves wasn't that delicate lingered in your mind, but that thought was quickly quenched by the feeling of metal claws on your shoulder. You could feel the pinpricks of them poking at your skin, just barely digging in. It was cold in comparison to the heat you had been surrounded by all day, making it a welcome change even when you were still on high alert about just who was behind you.

And for some reason, you almost wished his soft hold on you would tighten just enough. You could feel those claws breaking your skin.

"Right. Well....good call then."

You couldn't help but cringe at how you stammered over your words, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy whatever Mydei had wanted from you as he backed away and returned to the spot he had been collecting dust in before.

"What was that?" You whispered to yourself.

Shaking that entire encounter off the best you could, your attention went back to the blade in your hand, now noticeably held at a fifty degree angle.

Wrong.

It was wrong.

Your head shook side to side.

"You know, it might be best to go out and shop for a bit, Lord Mydei. This will take some time, and I want to see about hammering out the dents in your pauldron. Maybe shining it too if you take too long to get back."

You didn't risk looking back at him, not when you were unsure why desire had come over you so quickly.

Not even when you knew he was wordlessly taking off the armor on his shoulder. Each little chime of a buckle being undone made you move your hands a little faster and press the blade just a bit too hard into the whetstone.

You'd have to properly attend to it later. Check it. See if it needs replaced-

You flinched as the bronze metal filled your eyes, the familiar shape of it delicately placed down by your side.

"Calm down. Haven't I told you before that I'm not a mindless brute?"

Swallowing, you got out a yes.

"Then"- His head ducked down, meeting you at the same height to give Mydei a chance to glance at you properly. Your thighs clenched at having him so close, the heat from before having barely even dwindling and now reigniting as if you had used a bellow to cause a stir. Like this, you couldn't meet his eye. Not when you weren't sure if it would mean you would be tempted to break the space between you.

Ultimately, he pulled away. "Forget it."

A moment of silence passed.

"You should leave me your gauntlets as well."

"Fine."

They soon joined the growing pile on your table, rattling it and causing it to tilt to the side now that there was more weight where the one uneven leg was. You had been meaning to fix it, but like many things in your day to day life, it had gone unattended to.

"I'll get to that right away."

"Then we're done here?"

"Yes, Lord Mydei."

He pushed himself away from you, boots thudding against the stone once again as he headed back to the busy street full of colorful fabrics and stalls just waiting to be perused at his leisure. A single merchant had even waved to him, hoping to draw Mydei in with promises of a sale. Their hand hung in the air, yet his eyes turned back to you.

Only to see you staring right back at him. You could only hope the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn't noticeable, or at least could be passed off as a side effect of the sunny day. "Ah, goodbye then."

His hands, covered in callouses and scars painting his fingers to his palm, slid into the pockets of his trousers, hiding away just how big they were. "What time should I come to pick everything back up?"

"Well, given I'm handling your gauntlets, too, I'd say tomorrow morning."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands." With that, he walked away.

You watched for a moment, lips pinched together before dropping your head down to the table before you to groan.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

That's what you were.

You wanted to scream and shout, maybe even go and kick that one beam in the smithy you always abused when you were agitated with your latest project. Anything would do as long as it took the edge off of where your mind was drifting as you looked back at the gauntlet before you, the five clawed fingers curled just so.

Stupid. It's stupid.

And worst off, in your own fit of self-denial, you had missed the way Mydei has adjusted himself in his pants in a desperate attempt to hide himself away.

[rachetmath]

Nora's Plan B

Hey Nora.

Nora: Sup Em, whicha want?

Emerald: Say if Ren doesn’t work out would you date Jaune?

Nora: Yes.

Emerald: What?

Ruby: What?

Weiss: What?

Nora: What? Is that a big deal?

Emerald: Explain.

Nora: I mean I call Jaune a fearless leader for a reason.

Weiss: But Cardin-

Nora: Let’s break it down. Jaune let Cardin get away with what he did was because of his transcripts however that’s also because Jaune was used to situations like because no one has ever helped him with that. Think about it, how many friends Jaune had before Beacon?

Ruby: Hm.

Nora: Plus the moment Cardin threatened Pyrrha his attitude took a whole 180. Shoot after the Ursa he was ready to fight Cardin again.

Ruby and Weiss: Yeah, she’s not wrong.

Nora: Next, Cinder would have to watch Jaune’s progression in order to set up a good team for us to fight. Didn’t she?

Emerald: Yeah.

Nora: And Jaune stood up for Pyrrha when everybody was laying pressure on her. That’s something.

RWE: True.

Ruby: But Nora sometimes Jaune-

Nora: Hold on, yeah, Jaune has his hissy fits but then again, don’t we all grieve differently. Plus Ruby, Qrow waited until we were attacked by Salem’s forces to explain everything. Instead, he could have just told us from the start. He was doing unnecessary things. So yeah Jaune has every right to be mad. I say Qrow should have counted his blessings that Jaune was willing to help him at all if you weren’t around. Or Jaune kills him by his own hands.

Ruby: Oh.

Weiss: But then he- Oscar-

Nora: With Oscar, Jaune admitted he overreacted with him. But, again, understandble. We grieve at our own pace. And I mean seriously Ozpin hadyears to stop Salem and he hasn’t done it. Ozpin might as well be just as bad as Salem.  Also if you have not noticed back in Argus the moment he pushed Oscar to the wall none of us were ready. Remember how  Yang looked?

RW: 

Nora: That was fear. I will say that takes points away for being attractive but it also shows he has a breaking point. Which for most people needs to be avoided cause someone could end up dead. But again Jaune proves he has control of his emotions by letting Oscar go.

Yang: Yeah she’s not wrong. 

Ruby: Yang how-

Yang: Stay on topic. Look I’m cool with Ren and you know I- I understood why he was upset but the moment he realized his tone with Jaune-

Yang: He knew. He knew he f**** up but then Jaune’s response- Oh my god.

Yang: He maintained his composure. His behavior proves he learned from Argus with Oscar. He still was willing to talk with him.

Yang: If that’s not maturity then I don’t know what is. Just saying. 

Ruby: But Jaune in the Ever After was-

Yang: Okay let’s compare. Ren was upset about Atlas and Mantle. Instead of being upset about it and following orders, what else has he done to fix anything? Nothing. And when he finally expressed himself it was after Oscar got kidnapped. And we were stranded in the middle of miles in snow with no food or transportation. Meanwhile, leaving those thousands of people to die.

Me: But didn’t you start it?

Yang: Doesn’t matter.

Me: Yes it-

Yang: Shut up. And in the Ever After Ruby…. …. We were there for a day and we made Little homeless. Robbed the knights. Almost died playing a game of chess with a spoiled brat. Fought our inner demons. And destroyed a city market with people in it to save ourselves from Neo. In one day mind you we did all of that.

Ruby: Holy-

Yang: Now with Jaune he wasn’t dismissing our problem but we were contemplating at the wrong time. 

Yang: Mainly because a storm came.

Yang: He then brought us to his home.

Yang: And let's recall he was waiting for us. Something he didn’t have to do. At all.  And what did we do? Judge the man for taking care of a bunch of children who want to die.

Yang: Then we brought Neo to him.

Yang: And Ruby -

Ruby: No further comments.

Yang: And Ratchet.

Me: *sigh* Okay. Fine. If you have seen my list of Jaune ships or seen any of my post on Ren and Nora., my outlook on them is not good. But after thinking about the reason I hate Nora, I steadily realized, ‘man, what I am saying, she’s better than Sakura.” She doesn’t physically or mentally abuse Jaune like Sakura does to Naruto. And unlike the other besides Pyrrha she’s consistent with Jaune. So I'll admit I was petty with her in volume seven and eight. I can see Nora’s Arc happening.

Nora: Thank you. Anyways Emerald I would date Jaune as my plan B. Especially if Ren and I don’t recover from Atlas.

Emerald: Well damn. Too bad you got competition.

Nora: *laugh*

RWE: *shocked*

Nora: Let them come. But remember, team JNPR. And team JNRO. And team RNJR.

Weiss: What is that- oh my god.

Nora: That’s right. I’m number two. I’m the second. I’m always beside Jaune. Not Pyrrha. Not Ren. Me. He’s the leader. But the queen of the motherf***ing castle. Bye ladies. *leaves*

Yang: Damn.

Weiss: Oh no, I better act fast.

Ruby: I need Ren to clean up his mess quickly.

Emerald: She most definitely

[jjsloverre]

bsf!jj asking you to be his girlfriend!

in which… jj takes sweetheart out to an arcade to ask her to be his girlfriend!

contains… cursing, ultimate fluff, and a TINY bit of smut, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), handjob & that’s it i hope! (not proofread)

__________________________________________________________

today was the day. today was the day jj would finally ask you to be his girlfriend. after waiting for years to do it, today he wouldn’t chicken out, you both would finally be happy.

“baby! hurry up we got 20 minutes!” jj yelled from downstairs. “i’m coming love!” you hurried downstairs. “holy fuck you look like a goddess.” jj murmured, kissing you while you walked out the house.

the drive to the arcade was bliss. you and jj were rambling about school, homework, work, anything that came to mind? oh yeah you talked about it. “so jayj?” you started. he looked at you for a second. “what’s up baby?” you took his free hand and fiddled with it, finally intertwining your hands together. “i’m happy to be with you, like a lot. i couldn’t ask for anything more and i already love this date bunches.”

jj looked at you with pure love and adoration. “y’know i adore you? everything about you just, makes me wanna protect you from the world. keep you in your tiny little love bubble you always got goin on, it’s just so sweet and precious.” your heart soared at his loving words. while the red light was active, you leaped into jj’s arms for a few kisses and sat back down. “i love you so much jayj.”

“i love you more sweetheart.”

jj took your hand into the arcade, buying the tokens and the gaming card for you both to play. “alright mama, what’s first?” he asked, while paying. “definitely basketball, you’re getting your ass kicked!” you say excitingly. “love your confidence baby.” he smirked, and took you to an available basketball hoop. “jayj this is gonna be so fun!!” you exclaimed, already swiping your card. “how much money did you put on here again?”

“don’t get mad but like there’s a good 500 points on there or some shit.”

“jj! that’s almost 200 dollars!” you screamed. you hated when jj blew almost a full check on you. “baby, it’s alright it’s worth it.” you sighed, he would continue to fight about it and you knew that. “okay fine, but next date is on me.”

“ok baby, whatever you’d like.” as you both played basketball and a ton of other games, you finally took a break for food. “baby!” you squeal. “can we pleaseeeee share a funnel cake?”

jj smiled and nodded. “yes ma’am we can. here, take my card and go buy it. i’ll get us a table and get whatever drinks you want ok?” you nod, and take his card. “do you want any specific drink?” jj shook his head. “get me anything you wanna get me, whatever you want sweetheart.”

“okay!” you walk to concession stand and order your food and drinks. you walk back a few minutes later and hand him his favorite drink. “there you go my baby!” jj’s heart swelled with love as you spoke and sat his drink down. “thank you beautiful.” even though pda wasn’t typically allowed, jj sat you in his lap and fed you some of your shared funnel cake. “taste good?” you nod. “wonderful.”

“how many more games do you wanna play baby?” he asked.

“ou ou! can we do one of those car games and we should do the go kart racing! and after that laser tags and then-” he cut you off immediately. “alright baby let’s just go and you can lead me to anything you want to do next.” you squealed in excitement. “let’s go!”

after another two hours, jj took you home and you both shared a shower. “finally! i’m so happy to be home i’m tired.” you yelled. “not done yet baby, i’m takin you out to dinner.”

“haha funny joke jj, you’ve spent enough money.”

“not a joke. i rented the whole restaurant just for us so we’re doing this.” you rolled your eyes. “fine jayj.” you and jj’s lips connected in the shower, sharing a passionate kiss. “mm love you.” he mumbled into the kiss. “love you more sweetie.” i reach down to stroke your hardening cock. “do y’like that baby?”

“i love it ma. cmon keep goin.” jj broke the kiss and buried his face into your neck, letting out needy whimpers. “my baby, you’re being such a good boy for me.” jj lets out another whimper, grabbing onto your plump ass. “fuck baby.. i can’t- i won’t last much longer.” you sped up your movements, cupping his heavy balls and squeezing just right. “f-fuck baby shit!” jj moaned into your neck, erratically thrusting into your fist.

with one more squeeze to his balls, jj came undone. in a swift movement, jj slipped his throbbing cock into your wet folds, his tip kissing your entrance. he pushed forward. “fuck baby i’m so sorry i need this..” you nodded happily and squeezed jj’s throbbing cock in more and more until he came, hard. he held you close while he emptied his load inside of your greedy cunt. “that’s a good boy.” cmon, we gonna get ready!”

“ma! i want you to cum though!” suddenly, jj felt your walls clamp down hard on his cock, realizing you did in fact cum. he moaned loudly and came one more time, giving you one more greedy load. “fuck baby, best sex i’ve had.”

“take it you liked it?”

“fuck yeah i did. now get ready for me, wear that red dress in your closet.”

you nod, putting the dress on after you get out of the shower. once you stepped out, jj looked at you in awe. “fuck yes baby! you look amazing! come on! i have so much shit planned for us.”

as you arrived at the restaurant, you immediately cling onto jj. “hey sweet girl, you’re alright.” he coaxed. he started to lead you to your seats and you both ordered. “pops is out of town again, so i can have you over and cuddle you.”

“exactly what i needed jayj.”

you and jj talked about random things for an hour, eating your food and happy overall, until he dropped a bombshell.

“so sweetheart.” he started. you turned your attention to him, letting him caress your thighs. “i didn’t think there was any better way to do this. i want you to be my girlfriend baby. the real deal, not this ‘friends with benefits�� shit. i need you, i need you like i need to breathe air or whatever they say. i just know… i just know that i’m in love with you and you’re where i belong, so will you make me the happiest man on this earth and allow me to be your boyfriend?” to your surprise he pulled out a small diamond ring. “now this, cost me my whole paycheck and more but it was overall worth it. and i think nobody deserves happiness more than you do.”

you cried pure happy tears. you threw yourself in his arms and cried. “i would love that! i want you to be mine!” jj captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. he poured his love and devotion into the kiss. “i love you so much.” jj muttered. “and i love you more maybank. always and forever.” with that, you leaned into the kiss more, celebrating your new love with the man you always dreamed of.

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taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @aaliyahsturniolo @ethanthequeefqueen @sophand4n4 @kieeslove @chalahyung01 @bee-43 @superlegend216 @masongetinmybed @eddxemxnson @always-reading @maybankslover @leaseyes @glitterybombshell @slut4rafecameronn @sttaejoon-blog @imsiriuslyreal @coalicionees

a/n: lmk if you guys want a fic of them getting married (like a time skip 3 years later & they get married & have a child) but yeah lmk if you want that in a few days!

more bsf!jj x sweetheart!reader here!

__________________________________________________________

[pukefactory]

Hello! Haha it's my first time in this blog and I love it so far! I love your hcs! I'm sorry if this is too specific of a request but Would you do one of Sprout X GN reader.

How would he react to a reader that used to be fun loving and silly become more Short tempered, and depressed when Garden view shut down? They've been isolating themselves out of fear they'll blow up at him.

If not any general hcs for him is also fine!

Hey, thank you so much for your kind words, Anon! I’m truly grateful that you and others enjoy my blog. Don’t worry—your request isn’t too specific at all, and I appreciate you providing such a clear prompt. I hope this meets your expectations!

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ DEAD MALL ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

✶ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Sprout helping a melancholic reader

✶ Character(s): Sprout Seedly (Dandy’s World)

✶ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Angst, SFW

✶ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✸ Sprout noticed the shift in your demeanor almost immediately. At first, he chalked it up to stress—after all, everyone was struggling with Gardenview’s shutdown in their own way. But as time passed, your usual playful energy remained absent, replaced by a lingering frustration that made you feel like a completely different person. It wasn’t just that you were quieter; you were angrier. It worried him more than he was willing to admit.

✸ He’s never been one for dancing around a problem, so when your mood didn’t improve, he confronted you about it directly. He didn’t mean to be pushy, but his concern overpowered any hesitation. “Something’s wrong,” he stated firmly, arms crossed as he stood in front of the opening to your room. “Talk to me.” Even when you tried to brush him off, he stood his ground, refusing to let you isolate yourself any longer.

✸ The first time you snapped at him, it caught him off guard. You hadn’t meant to, but the frustration had been building for so long that it slipped out before you could stop it. His expression faltered for just a second—just long enough for guilt to settle deep in your chest. But instead of arguing back, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer. “That’s not gonna scare me away,” he muttered, softer than usual.

✸ Sprout isn’t the best with words, but he is persistent. When you started isolating yourself, he made it his personal mission to check in every day—whether you liked it or not. If you wouldn’t come out of your room, he’d sit outside the door, chatting about whatever came to mind. “I tried a new pie recipe with Cosmo today. I think I messed up the crust, but he said it was still good. You would’ve liked it.” His voice was casual, but his meaning was clear: I miss you.

✸ He knew you were afraid of snapping at him again, but that wasn’t something he cared about. “I can handle you being mad,” he told you one night, his gaze unwavering. “What I can’t handle is you acting like I don’t exist.” It was the closest thing to vulnerability he’d been in a while, but if being honest was the only way to get through to you, then he’d rip his heart open as many times as it took.

✸ Despite his pushiness, Sprout never forced you to talk before you were ready. Instead, he found small ways to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere. A freshly baked pastry left outside your room. A soft knock, followed by a quiet, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want company.” No expectations, no pressure—just the promise that he was always within reach.

✸ When you finally started opening up again, it wasn’t a grand confession—it was a quiet, exhausted whisper as you sat beside him on one of the dining tables. “I just don’t want to say something I’ll regret.” He didn’t respond right away, just studied you for a long moment before finally murmuring, “Then I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?” His usual bluntness was still there, but there was something softer beneath it, something only you got to see.

✸ As your mood slowly improved, he adjusted in kind. When you hesitated to reach out, he’d grab your hand first, squeezing it reassuringly. If you got frustrated and started spiraling, he’d guide you to the kitchen with a casual, “Help me bake something. You’re way better at kneading dough than I am.” Distractions, support, presence—he wasn’t always good with words, but he was good at being there.

✸ One of the few times you truly broke down, he didn’t hesitate. He let you cling to him, gripping the fabric of his scarf as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t try to shush you or tell you to calm down—he just held you, rubbing slow circles into your back. “You don’t have to act fine around me,” he murmured, voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “You don’t have to pretend.”

✸ Over time, things got better. You weren’t the same toon you had been before Gardenview shut down, but you weren’t alone in that. Sprout had changed too—he had grown alongside you, adapting to your struggles without ever once making you feel like a burden. And through all of it, through every high and low, one thing had remained constant: he had never left your side.

[volturissideslut]

hiii! can I pls request aro and his mate who has a hand kink? like it doesn’t matter where they are, of what they’e doing, she’ll be sat in his lap playing with his hands, and tracing the veins. like actually his hands r so fine, search it up on Pinterest and you will understand my point.

𝕬𝖗𝖔 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

(Nsfw below the cut) I don't need to go on pinterest to know what you're talking about darling, i'm right there with you 😭🫶

Imagine sitting on Aro's lap, it could be in the throne room or anywhere else in the world. Long pale fingers grip onto your thigh like a voce, keeping you grounded on top of him. Your own hand would be on top of his, tracing along the shapes. The bump of his knuckle, a scar on the side, a vein bulging from his wrist to his index finger. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded, the feel of the tip of his finger faint against your lips while you wait for him.

Imagine being sat next to him, bored and tracing your hands over his. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded. The feel of the tip of his fingers against your lips from how ofter you kiss at them, the indent in his middle finger from centuries of quills and pens. Flipping his hand over to follow all the lines on his palm. He might even get you one of them palm reading books so he has an excuse to sit there and feel you for longer.

Imagine laying in bed together with Aro spooning you, his arm is thrown over your waist and his hand flat against your lower belly. Butterflies erupt within you, the way you feel his hand stroke at you or how his fingers draw little shapes. He'll trace 'i love you' in old greek and make you guess what he's writing, knowing fully well that you don't know that language yet. His hand would reach up, scratching at your scalp a massaging into your head. He keeps you in pure bliss.

Imagine his fingers shoved down your throat, pushing down on your tongue. He's all consuming when you're in bed together, all you can feel is him, him, and him some more. He loves being above you, making eye contact as you suck on his fingers. You'll gag around him, oh so full, and it just makes him all the more turned on.

Imagine the way his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb circling over the little nub of your clit. His hands are amazing, magical really, the searing pleasure he brings you with those dexterous fingers of his. They may not be thick, but they sure as hell are long, and you can feel every part of them inside of you. Maybe it's the fantasy - your love for them making the white hot feeling coiling in you all the more apparent - or maybe he really is that good. Either way, Aro's fingers are really fascinating to you

[yoongelectric]

Up and Down - Ben Shelton

pairing: ben shelton x fem!reader

genre: super fluffy, angst, smut, exes to lovers

warnings: pet names, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, fingering, nipple play, riding, i think that’s it

summary: you get stuck in an elevator with the one that got away

notes: sorry for making you wait, i ended up changing a lot of things. English isn’t my first language

It has been more than a year since your breakup with Ben, your relationship had started innocently, when he came to your house to hang out with your brother, and you stole glances at each other when he was distracted, Ben secretly looked forward to those rare occasions when you spent time with them, when you watched movies together and if he was lucky maybe you would lay your head on his shoulder, or when the three of you had to go grocery shopping and you would seat in the passenger seat next to him, or when in the middle of a conversation he made you laugh. one day he decided that he wanted to be able to experience those things every day so he asked you out, one date turned into two and soon you were inseparable, your brother used to half joke about how you had stolen his best friend and threatened Ben saying that if he ever hurt you he would beat him up.

But all good things come to an end, they say, and after two years of dating, Ben's career began to get in the way, long training sessions and constant trips made it impossible for you two see each other. On top of that, you were no longer the main priority in Ben's mind, not showing up on dates or forgetting important days became more and more usual for him. So one day with pain in your heart you decided to end things, you knew that you both loved each other, and although it was probably one of the hardest things you had ever done you knew it was the best for both of you, you didn't want him to pay less attention to his career now that it was starting to take off, but you weren't going to sacrifice your happiness just to wait for him to have time for you.

You're doing fine, you're studying the career of your dreams, you have a good job, a quiet life and wonderful friends who help you not think about Ben, and maybe that's the reason why you’re doing fine, you don't think about ben, you don't see ben, the only news you have about him is when your brother proudly tells you how well he's doing in tennis, and it makes you happy, it's what you always wanted for him, to be successful in what he loves the most, but when you're alone with your thoughts you can't help but think about how things would be if you had fought more for your love, what it would be like to live your joys together, and support each other when things were not so good, but you convince yourself that you are better off this way, because you’ll never know if you would’ve been able to overcome that rough patch in your relationship.

and here you are, getting ready for your brother's birthday, he had told you earlier that Ben was going to be there and you had psychologically prepared yourself all afternoon for the moment you would see him for the first time since you broke up, you told everyone that it was fine, you’d ended up things on good terms and you didn't hold a grudge against him, you didn't feel anything for ben other than a nice memory, but secretly you were wearing just his favorite color, you had styled your hair the way you knew he liked it and you had looked at your outfit in the mirror hundreds of times hoping ben would find you attractive, there are things that never change at the end of the day.

The night was going smoothly, when Ben arrived you greeted him politely with a slight smile and continued having small talk with your aunt, obviously the questions didn't take long to come, what happened for you to broke up? Was there anyone else? How does it feel to see him here? You avoided them as best you could but they left you feeling an uncomfortable pang in your chest. The night went by and each drink made you overthink your decisions over and over again, so you decided to say goodbye to your closest circle and return home before doing something you would regret.

When they were about to close completely, the elevator doors opened up again, letting in ben’s tall figure, who looked at you surprised, with a pleased smile, you're not sure if that was the same expression he received from you.

"Hey, y/n, leaving already? We didn't have much chance to talk there" Ben tried to break the ice.

"Yeah, I have a bit of a headache so I preferred to go home" you lied, obviously you wouldn't tell him that you couldn't stand seeing him and not being together.

"oh i understand, maybe you need some sleep"

"yeah maybe..." you tried to say something else but you didn't really know what, you fell into an awkward silence, unusual for the two of you.

and as if life was playing a joke on you, you felt the elevator stop, you pressed the button for the ground floor several times but it was useless, you wouldn’t move.

"We can't be stuck here," you said, switching between pressing the stop and go button and the one for the floor you were going to.

"Relax, I'll call your brother so he’ll tell the maintenance guys."

The call gave you two the worst news, no one would go that late at night on a saturday to fix an elevator, so you would have to wait for the system to work again.

The two of you sat on the floor in silence, looking at the ceiling, at the floor anywhere but at each other, it was strange how something as familiar as being alone together now produced such discomfort inside you.

you heard ben laugh bitterly

"What's so funny?" You asked, playing with your necklace, an old habit you had when you were nervous.

"Nothing, I just never thought I'd need to be stuck in an elevator to be alone with you."

His remark making you feel even more uneasy.

"I don't think that's the case" you avoided his comment, looking away.

"y/n, I'm not stupid, I see that you're nervous, I know it bothers you being here with me" he paused to look at you for the first time in several minutes "I'm surprised that this is what we are like now"

"It doesn't bother me being here with you, Ben, it bothers me not knowing what to do."

"what do you mean?"

"You were literally my person for two years, we always connected on another level, and now we can't have a conversation for 5 minutes, I hate feeling like I don't know you"

"y/n, you are the one who’s been avoiding me all night, pretending you don't know me when you are the person who knows me best in the world" Ben approached you trying to hold your hand gently "I know it's my fault, I was the one who lost you, but things don't have to be like this"

"but they are, there’s nothing to do" you finally looked at him "some things belong to the past"

"I miss you, Y/n, I miss us, I know I didn't take care of you like I should have, but I don't think that our relationship is something of the past, I can fix things you know."

"There is nothing to fix, you have other priorities in life and that's okay, I'm not going to get in the way of your career"

"do you ever think about me?, tell me the truth, because I think about you all the time, every time I win a match and you’re the first person i wanna call, or when I watch some movie that you like and I remember the comments you would make, specially at night when the bed feels too big" Ben moved even closer to you "please tell me you still think about me, y/n”

"i do, but that doesn't matter-" your words were cut off by ben's lips on yours

He held you by the neck, kissing you as if he’d never had to stop doing it, the kiss felt intense, full of emotions that hadn’t surfaced for a whole year.

"It does matter, Y/N, before we didn't know how to handle things, but maybe now we can" Ben murmured against your lips.

"What if we can't? I don't want to feel like someone you only remember when you have nothing else to do again" A single tear fell down your cheek, which Ben was quick to wipe away with his thumb while holding your face.

"You were never that for me, y/n, it was a difficult time and i neglected you, i admit that, but I swear that will never happen again, i know how it feels like to loose you completely". ben smiled sadly

This time it was you who leaned in to kiss him, the desperation of finding something to hold onto to believe him invading your senses, Ben grabbed your waist trying to stick you to him but the position you were in, sitting side by side, made it impossible.

"Can you come here?" He patted his lap so you sat on top of him.

When you straddled him you felt his arms wrap you in a hug, clinging you to him as if even the slightest distance hurt him. He laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair. You stayed like that for a while until he looked up again, his eyes full of love.

"god, you're so beautiful, i missed you"

“I missed you too, you have no idea” you pouted as you ran your hand through his brown curls, a habit that lingered over time.

You felt him reach out to kiss your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your sensitive spots, Ben's movement taking you aback momentarily but making you loose yourself in him right away, your hand in his hair caressing and gently pulling his locks as your back arched over his chest.

His hands came down to grab your hips, pressing you onto his growing erection, making you moan softly.

"Sorry, tell me to stop if you want" Ben whispered, kissing the skin the neckline of your top left visible.

"Please don't" you said looking down.

“good,” you heard ben grunt as he rolled your skirt up and grabbed your bare ass, urging you to buck your hips onto his, and again, and again, his hands guiding your movements hard onto it, his hard cock feeling so good against your clothed clit, but the friction quickly feeling too little. You gently bit his shoulder, pressing harder on him, but it was useless.

"ben, please, i need more"

Ben looked into your eyes, smiling devilishly, he raised your hips slightly to have easy access to your pussy, running a finger all over it, your hips pushed down onto his finger, your back arching, head falling back and your hands resting on his shoulders needing to grab something.

“ben, take them off” you said making him look up and kissing him again.

He pushed your panties to the side, without removing them yet, he poked a finger at your entrance trying to collect your wetness, hissing at the amount of your juices he found there.

"shit, I want to fuck you so bad"

Ben looked at you once more, lips red and swollen from his ministrations, your hair messy and a slight shine in your eyes.

"then do it, baby, I can't wait, Ben" this time you were the one who went down to kiss his neck, sucking hard, you were sure to leave marks but at this moment you didn't care, you felt Ben's hand twitch on your hip and a growl escape his mouth, it was amazing how after a year being apart you still knew all his weak points, maybe because you were one yourself

"Not yet, princess, we have to get you ready."

"Ok, but make it quick, what if the elevator starts working again?"

Ben laughed softly "we'll have to continue in my bed then."

You smiled at him but your face turned into one of pleasure when Ben began to draw figure eights on your pussy, keeping your hips still so he could please you just the way he wanted.

"Take off your top, baby" as soon as you left your breasts bare, Ben's mouth attacked them, skillfully licking your nipples, sucking and letting his teeth delicately graze that sensitive area.

Ben slid two fingers into your entrance, pumping them in and out reaching all the places inside you that made you see stars, his other hand releasing your hip as he licked his thumb to circle your clit.

You were making a mess on his fingers and you could hear the noise of your wetness getting pushed in and out of you.

"ben, it’s okay, fuck me, please, I need you, I need your cock"

ben nodded his head releasing his dick from its confinement, you suddenly remembered his size, once he was inside of you, you felt perfectly full, stretched, but it was true that it had taken you a few months during your relationship to get used to his length and girth.

"you ready, pretty?" You nodded and looked at him, legs spread, leaning back slightly, giving his member a few strokes before he grabbed you to help you sit on his cock he looked so attractive you couldn't think about anything else.

you let his dick in inch by inch, but halfway through you felt it was too much, the stretch hurting between your legs.

your face of discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by ben

"y/n are you okay? did I hurt you or something?" He spoke worriedly while holding your waist to help you support your own weight.

You nodded and rested your head on the crook of his neck before speaking, a little embarrassed

"I'm fine, it's just that, your dick is big and I haven't had..." you looked at him with reddened cheeks.

"since we broke up?" Ben asked trying to sound understanding, but the smile he had to contain was noticed by you.

"don't smile like that, I just need to adjust to the size, be a little patient with me"

"all the patience in the world, love, just tell me when you're ready" he gave a soft peck on your shoulder.

"can you take this off?" you asked as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

Ben removed the garment in one motion allowing you to cling onto his skin, breathing through your nose and taking in the rest of him.

“you’re doing great, y/n, just tell me when you can move.”

The pain soon turned into pleasure and you soon began to feel that need for more friction in your lower stomach, you moved your hips up until only the tip was inside and you let yourself fall, Ben's deep growl making your walls tighten around his cock, you repeated your movements over and over again until your legs began to shake, his mouth changing between kissing your breasts, your neck or your lips, soon neither of you had the energy for anything but trying to reach your climaxes, holding each other and moaning into each other's mouths, you were so close but your legs had less and less strength.

"ben, can you?-"

A scream escaped your mouth when Ben placed his heels on the floor and, holding your hips, began to fuck you right in that delicious pace that he’d always known how to give you.

"Is this what you wanted, beautiful? you wanted me to fuck you good?"

"gosh, ben, so so so good, I missed this so much"

"I missed you, I love you so much"

Ben held you close, so lovingly, contrasting with the violent thrusts he was giving your pussy over and over again.

The knot in your stomach formed quickly and white spots appeared around your eyes.

"love, I'm close" your hips began to meet his movements, your clit rubbing against Ben's pelvis making your head spin.

“let go, cum for me, tell me, y/n, who makes you feel this good?”

The tension in your stomach snapped, your entire body shivered and all the nerves in your body woke up, you made a mess of juices on his dick.

"Shit, Ben you make me feel this good, there's no one like you."

You didn't know what you were saying, you were just thinking about the time you’d missed all of this, the time you lost each other.

When you came down from your high, Ben started his thrusts again, becoming more erratic and his moans less controlled.

"y/n I'm gonna cum, where do you want it?"

Your head was full of possibilities, but you felt so good like this, so comfortable, so safe, that you didn't want to move, you didn't want to lose contact.

"Finish inside, I don't want you to get out of me, Ben"

"damn, you're the best thing that ever happened to me"

Ben's hips stopped inside you, pressing hard as you felt his white seed paint your walls.

His head fell onto your shoulder with a grunt of pleasure and exhaustion, hugging you tightly, as if you were going to disappear if he didn’t hold you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his head, enjoying the contact that you’d only now realized how much you missed.

“I love you, Ben, i’m sorry for leaving like that,” you whispered in his ear.

"I let you go, I should have never ever taken you for granted, y/n, please be mine again."

You grabbed his head to make him look at you and you left a tender kiss on his cheek.

"I think all this shows you that my answer is yes"

"Thank you, baby, I swear you won't regret it, I'll take care of you the way you deserve"

"I know I won't regret it, love."

tiredness began to take over you, so Ben gently took you away from him, telling you to get dressed, that he would wake you up when the elevator worked again.

and you don't know when that happened, but the next morning you woke up clinging to him in his bed, right where you should have always been.

[sir-myst-cake]

First post on here and it's a rant!! If you want more cool takes you should totally follow me as I'll be posting here more often and have totally cool art to share‼️‼️

I'm not completely sure how to tag this? I'm talking about the ships in a positive light so I think it's okay, and besides, I want lots of peeps to see it, I'm aware I probably won't change many people's minds at all, but it's okay lol, I just want Anti's to see they genuinely have a nothing burger and need to leave people alone.

This is a mostly TikTok only problem regarding Beast x Ancient's (thank god) but I've seen my fair share elsewhere like on here. So lemme counter every argument I've seen so far cause you got a lot of time on your hands to be telling people to off themselves over Cookie ships 😭 put that hate into people who actually deserve it.

BILLFORD COMPARISON

Regarding ShadowVanilla specifically, people have compared the ship a lot from both sides, but what really got me is what I've seen here:

"Shadow Milk Cookie is way worse than Bill! He drove Pure Vanilla to insanity! He tortured him!"- This is in regards to how people bring up the fact Anti's are fine with one thing but not the other when it's basically the same thing they're against. Psychological, physical, mental, and emotional torture. I'll be honest I haven't watched Gravity Falls whatsoever, but my friend has, and from what she says, yeah Bill is the definition of a cruel and unusual punishment. He's done some crazy things, absolutely heinous, might even be a little worse than Shadow Milk or on the same level, either way though-

You can't like one thing and then not the other, it's different flavors of the same thing, it's hypocritical. Either you hate them both or you hate neither.

"Those are 2 different fandoms!"- Doesn't matter, it's the same thing, just different media, it's not different whatsoever aside from the universe, there's much torture involved on both ends.

ABUSER X VICTIM

This one I've seen A LOT and I'm just ??

"If you ship Beast x Ancient's you support Abuser x victim btw"- That's a STRETCH. You are reaching FAR. Nobody is romanticizing the abuse, nobody is normalizing it, it's stuff that happened in canon and we acknowledge it but nobody is doing any of that other stuff. I'm not condoning anyone in real life to do that shit lol. It's called exploring, they have an interesting dynamic, romantic or platonic, two sides of the same coin. You can say the same thing about horror movies, they put a lot of disturbing stuff in there. Do the movie producers CONDONE any of that stuff? Obviously not. Goes for Devsisters too, they don't condone body mutilation yet they still made Burning Spice rip off Cheese's wings.

But even so, for the people who DO like it for the angst, I won't say fiction doesn't affect reality because it does in many cases, but this isn't one of them. Not every relationship is going to be peachy and perfect, just like in real life. I can give an example on this one too actually.

GoldenLily, they aren't condoning what Lily (technically) did to Golden Cheese's kingdom, but they like it for all the potential, complicated feelings and emotions that come along with it.

Also, that's basically the same thing with Beasts x Ancients, just turn it around to enemies to lovers.

"This isn't Villain x hero, this is abuser x victim"- Are you saying MOST of media is abuser x victim then? This is in fact a typical hero x Villain trope, it's nothing new. Respectfully, you guys freak out when a Villain does villain stuff, I'd be surprised if there was a villain who DIDN'T cause any trauma for the opposing party. But according to this logic, media is just dead, no more fanfiction, no more what ifs, no more content since it's all apparently problematic and not canon. Even if somebody switches stuff up in an AU, and makes things completely fluffy, that's apparently still not enough.

"oh you had to make an AU to ship them because you know it's toxic"- No, it's just playing around with scenarios. Learn to separate fanon from canon. This specifically goes for the redeemed AU's I see of the Beasts, people still complain, they act as if people can't change. One of the biggest examples I have of that is FlutterCord, Discord did plenty of messed up things, but in the end, he still managed to change. You'll still get burned at the stake for it though.

"You must be an abuser yourself to condone this!!"- Extremely disrespectful and a WILDDD take. Need I say more??

"I ship Beast x Beast rather than Beast x Ancient's"- According to your logic, the Beasts are abusers right? And if we followed the same story, they are not mentally well whatsoever. You'd rather ship 2 dangerously mentally unstable characters together who'd just make each other worse? Destroy each other? Fuck each other up beyond belief? It doesn't make sense does it, nor is it fair for y'all to praise these ships but hate on the others. You like watching the cookies crumble huh 😭

CANON

"The ship isn't canon!"- We know that, everyone should know that. With what I said earlier, please learn to separate fanon from canon. That's what a fandom is, we do non-canon stuff, it's very fun, you should try it.

"It's a Proship/Dark ship!"- Going the canon route, Beasts are Eons old, Ancients are thousands of years old. Big gap yes, but nonetheless all of them are old as fuck. Older than bloodlines. Treating the Ancients as if they aren't grown adults. You're intentionally trying to make it weird. Stop calling ships you don't like proships please.

Also a little off topic but please don't listen to everyone you interact with on TikTok?? I remember one time I was scrolling through a comment section and saw somebody say "Doesn't Mystic Flour Cookie hate Burning Spice Cookie?" On a MysticSpice vid, looked in the replies, somebody asked for proof/where it was implied, and they didn't answer 💀 just blatantly spreading misinformation. Sources around you are way more reliable than people who don't back up their claims.

CONCLUSION

Even despite all this, you still have the right to feel how you wanna feel. Just please stop harassing people for simple stuff like this, in all honesty, I feel like it's more about seeing one of your favorite characters shipped with somebody who hurt them in canon that makes peeps upset. Which I can totally understand because I used to be exactly like that, I LIVEEEE for Dark Cacao Cookie, when Mystic Flour's update came out, I wanted her dead. Quite literally blocked someone because I couldn't stand seeing their MysticCao art. Hated what she did to my baby boy fr.

But then It started growing on me, over time, I just realized it was never that serious.

Even so, notice how I still didn't go out of my way to harass said person about it because I specifically didn't like it? It really is that easy. Block and go about your day.

I also suspect this because of stuff like this 💀

Love that person who replied, but it's not that hard y'all. We all can in fact, get along.

ANYWAYSSSS thanks to those who took the time read, I love you my pookies hope you have a good day or night💕💕

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Private Dances 7

Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info • series masterlist

Summary: Blue comes to find you when he's in a bad mood.

A/N: A huge thank you to the epic @lonelyisamyw-0love for tipping my ko-fi, this series is especially for them💚

Warnings: Smacking (in the face - Blue receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, oral sex (f!receiving) Blue crying, reader says Blue's crying turns them on, small argument - but like it's a scene, overuse of italics, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a dancer (but like Blue is so lovesick), not beta read, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

There are 5 main ‘stars’ in the club: Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal. Crystal is usually the favourite but is currently in Blue’s bad books for reasons unknown to the reader. Reader is a backup dancer that Blue has nicknamed Lion.

Word Count: 3100

Blue’s in a foul mood. Worse than foul. 

The tension in the air is heavy, spiked with electricity like the moment before a lightning strike. 

You’re helping Penny and Swan with the A Quarter stock check when you hear it: Blue’s yell. It’s harsh and sharp, cutting through the air like shattered glass despite how low the sound is. Anger radiates through the walls, his tone clear and precise even though the words and their meaning are muffled and lost. 

Penny and Swan jump at the first shout, poor Swan nearly dropping the items in her hands. Her fingers shake as he tries to compose herself. She’s fairly new and has never been under Blue’s direct warpath, but she’s heard enough stories to develop a healthy apprehension. 

Penny gives you a nervous glance, “That sounds bad.” 

You nod. 

“You…” Penny swallows, her eyes downcast. 

You know what she wants to ask. Can sense it. It’s almost like her words are echoing in your head, running along your synapses. It’s the same thing nearly everyone wants to ask, though no one has dared to yet. 

“Blue…” Penny tries again, breathing in as she searches for the right words. 

“You’re one of his favourites, right?” Swan blurts out. It’s funny almost, the bluntness of her words. But her eyes are wide and honest, and there’s a shine of fear in them that robs you of all humour. 

Penny tuts before you can answer, swatting Swan on her forearm. “You don’t just say that.” 

But why? You want to ask. Why is there this unspokenness to some things? No one had ever told you not to question, but it was ingrained anyway. 

“It’s alright.” You say and give them both a small smile. “It’s fine.” 

Swan rubs her arm and Penny looks relieved. 

“I know some of the… others,” Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal, “aren’t too… they don’t like being asked.” 

But that wasn’t quite right; some of them didn’t mind either, some of them freely gave information when it wasn’t too much to talk about. Crystal was the only one where asking a question was like a flip of a coin. You never knew if you were going to get an answer, a vicious comment, or your eyes clawed out. 

Some twisted hierarchy. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine.” You repeat. 

“What’s he like?” Swan asks, a morbid curiosity in her voice. 

All you can think about is the scars on his skin, how soft his eyes look when you press against his windpipe, the quiet, wanton moans that pass his lips when you squeeze. 

You shrug, trying to find substantial words. “He’s…”

“A fucking monster.” Penny shakes her head at Swan. “Why are you asking Lion stuff like that? You know what he’s like.”

Swan frowns, “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Penny folds her arms. “It’s-”

The door flies open, smacking into the wall with a crack. 

Penny jumps while Swan lets out a little cry of surprise. 

You turn instinctively, your mind racing.

Blue storms into the room, a deep scowl etched into his face like a scar. His gaze first falls on Swan and she takes a sharp, shaky step backwards her eyes downcast. 

Without thinking, you take a step forward and Blue turns at the sound. His glare softens when he sees you, but barely. He doesn’t steak, just grabs your bicep and pulls you from the room. You stumble, his firm grip keeping you upright as he practically marches you to his office. 

The door is barely open before he drags you inside and spins you around to face him. 

You stay quiet, but fix him with a hard stare. 

He breathes heavily, his shoulders relaxing. He’s the one that blinks first, his eyelashes fluttering and then looking down as his grip on your arm relaxes. 

“What?” You ask simply, your voice firm but quiet. 

He shakes his head. 

You place your hand on his cheek and tilt his head upwards. “Blue?” 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his blinking heavily. “I… I should have…” 

You let him stumble over his words. 

“I… that was impolite… of me.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

He shakes his head again, but this time the action is not dismissive. You can see the cogs wiring in his mind as he tries to regulate his emotions. 

Softly, you rub your thumb against his cheek and he leans into the soothing motion. His breathing slows, his jaw loosens as he closes his eyes.

“The conversation with Gerald,” one of Blue’s lawyers, “about regulations… building permits.” 

Ah. This was to do with Blue’s planned expansion of the club.

“It didn’t,” he breathes deeply as he leans further into your touch. “I became… upset. I wanted…” He pauses again, opening his eyes to stare intently at you. “I needed to see you.” 

“There are better ways of getting my attention, aren’t there?” 

His nose wrinkles in displeasure. “Why were you even out there anyway?”

You go to drop your hand from his face but he grabs your wrist, squeezing slightly as he keeps you firmly against him. 

Rage sparks under your skin. “You want me to stay locked up in your rooms all day and night?” You hiss.

Your conversation with him the night before echoed in your ears. ‘You don’t have to do anything Lion, just stay here.’ Even though he hadn’t intended it to sound like a prison sentence, the idea still chilled you. Isolated from everyone but him. What happened if he just woke up one day and decided to throw you away? What happened when he did?

“Is that such a curse?” He growls, his eyes dark. 

Something in you snaps, the smallest thread of self-control splinters in your temple. You twist your hand, moving so that your fingers dig into one cheek, while your thumb presses against the other. You squeeze, tilting his head back. Feeling the indent of his teeth under your fingertips. 

Blue lets out a little gasp of surprise, his head falling back under the force of your grip. 

“Lion,” he lets out, broken and weak. 

You step closer. “What kind of fucking behaviour is this?” You whisper, letting your anger burn along your words. “I know we spoke about your reputation.” You sneer. “How it’s best for you to be perceived by others. But don’t you dare take that tone with me-”

“I’m sorry!” He sobs, his voice thick, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

You shake him slightly, a jolt that has him whimpering. 

“Never interrupt me.” 

His shoulders shake as he tries to fight down the wave of sobs that threaten to wreck his very core. 

You watch him with hard eyes. 

“Lion?” He whines. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“I thought we were past this.” 

He breathes in shakily, tears spilling out and over his cheeks. “I didn’t mean, I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have been rude to you, I shouldn’t-” He bursts into full-blown tears, practical hysterics. Something that you haven’t seen from him before. 

You loosen your grip, wrapping your arms around him quickly and pulling him closer. “Shhh,” you rub his back, cradling his head as you soothe him. “Shhh, it’s alright.” 

“I didn’t,” he hiccups, trying to get air into his lungs and failing, “I didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to upset you. Disappoint you, I, I, I-”

You kiss his temple, gently leading him to the sofa, which is easier said than done while still holding him and his face pressed into your neck. 

As you sit down you take his cheeks in your hands, stroking his skin with your thumbs and smearing his tears. You kiss his nose and he smiles weakly while still crying. 

“Usually when I grab your face like that you get a boner.” You give him a soft look. 

He laughs once and nods, trying to calm himself down. 

“And we end up with your face between my thighs.” You keep your voice gentle and he swallows, nodding again. “Blue…”

He looks up at you, his eyes red. “I’m so sorry, Lion.”

You shake your head, about to tell him not to be when he puts his hands on your wrists. The touch is light this time as he lightly strokes your skin. “I was… I thought that was going to happen.” He says quietly. “I intended it to… To be our usual game.” He looks up at you a little nervously when he says ‘game’ and relaxes when you give him a warm smile. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You soothe. 

“I just… suddenly it felt…” He absentmindedly touches under his left collarbone, rubbing the thick, deep scar that you knew resided there. 

“It’s alright.” 

He nods. “Thank you.” 

Still cradling his cheeks, you kiss his temple, and then under his eyes, tasting the salt of his shed tears. 

He nuzzles into you, kissing your neck and chest over your clothes. You let him, kissing the top of his head and stroking his back. 

He moves lower slowly, pressing his lips to your thigh. 

“Blue,” you say softly, coaxing his face up so you can see him fully. “You don’t have to.” You don’t want him to think he has to perform, has to be constantly… oh. 

He gazes at you with heavily lidded eyes, his erection straining against his trousers. So much so you were sure he was going to pop a button. 

Lightly you trace along the edge of it with your fingernail and he groans, his eyelashes fluttering and still wet with tears as he smiles. 

“I’d like you too…” He swallows, already starting to feel like he’s floating. “I’d like you to ride me and…” he bites his lip, shivering. “I’d like you to smack me.” 

“Smack you?” You say, thinking back to when you had him across your lap. 

“Hmm,” he sighs dreamily, “here.” He touches his cheek. 

You’re not sure if this is such a good idea, especially after his sudden tears. “Blue-”

“Please Lion,” he bats his eyes and bites his lip. “Just sit on me, you don’t even have to move. Just keep,” he inches closer, almost swaying, like a predator about to pounce, “hitting me and let me come and I’ll clean up all my mess afterwards.” He rubs his nose against yours, slipping his tongue past your lips and kissing you desperately, drinking down your moan like a glutton. 

You wish it wasn’t so easy for him to coax you out of your clothes, for him to strip you bare while you were so distracted with his kiss. But there was a reason Blue was so used to getting his own way: he was undeniably persuasive. 

He has his suit jacket off, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone and his tie loosened when he pulls you into his lap. He keeps kissing you, keeps running his hands up and down your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

Blue groans into your mouth as he squeezes the outside of your thighs before he hastily unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly. He pulls his aching cock out in a hurry, almost rough with himself, a vast difference to how slowly and reverently he had undressed you. 

He squeezes the thick base with one hand, pulling his lips away from yours long enough to groan, “Hmm, Lion, please, can you- ah!” His gasp is sweet and pools heat in your belly as you take him in hand and guide him between your folds. 

He lets you take control immediately, gasping as you glide his leaking tip through the wetness between your legs before you press him to your clit. 

He moans deeply, his eyes blown wide. “Lion,” He swallows, his throat bobbing, “God, you’re so wet, does seeing me cry turn you on?” There’s the smallest grin on his lips, and even though you know it is just a tease, you can’t help yourself. 

You squeeze the base of his cock a little hard and his eyes roll back. He lets out a harsh groan as he squirms. You know, for most, the action would be painful. 

“God Lion, please, you’ll make me come before I’m even inside.” He whimpers, his voice strained. He presses his head back against the sofa, trying to gain some control over himself, and grabs hold of your hips, squeezing his fingers into your sides. 

You chuckle and slowly press his fat tip to your entrance. There’s the smallest resistance before he breaches.

Blue swears, his eyes rolling back. His neck taut and exposed to you as he leans back. 

You spread your knees a little wider as you ease yourself down onto him. “It does, by the way.” 

“Hmm?” He looks up at you with hazy eyes, already drunk on the feel of you. 

“Seeing you cry turns me on.” 

“Fuck.” He tenses, the base of his cock pulsing. It takes all his will in the world to not come there and then.

You smile, stroking his hair as you sink further down. “That desperate for me?” 

He nods rapidly. “Yes, Lion, yes, so desperate.” He moans loudly as your thighs meet his, finally swallowing him to the hilt. “Thank you, thank you.” He whispers, blinking hard.

“Are you sure you want me to hit you here?” You trace a heart over his left cheek with the tip of your finger and he nods. 

“Please.” 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

“I will, I promise.” He looks up at you, staring like you were the one who placed the stars into the sky. “I trust you, Lion.” 

You kiss him softly before you sit up fully. Blue hisses at the change of angle, his cock twitching as it rubbed against your walls. 

“Ready?” 

He manages to nod once before your palm collides with his cheek. The sound is sharp. It echoes like a bell ringing loudly in your ears. Blue’s face snaps to the side at impact, your hand tingles with the force. 

But his deep gasp and moan quickly alleviates any worry you had. 

He turns back to face you, his cheek already growing red. “Again.” 

You smack him. Harder this time. 

He turns quickly. “Again.”

Smack.

“Again.”

Smack.

“Agai-”

Smack.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Blue wimpers, his body singing as the pain mixes dizzyingly in his veins. He can taste iron in his mouth. But it doesn’t stop him from turning back to face you.

Smack.

He gasps, groaning as his hips buck once, his back arching. Pleasure rushes over him, pulling him deliciously high before dragging him down, down, down into dark, sweet depths. He spurts inside you, warm and copious, filling you to the brim and trickling down his balls. 

He squeezes you as he comes, shuddering and shivering until he blinks heavily. 

You’re holding him close and tight, and he’s never been safer than this moment. Never been more protected than in your arms. 

He moves slowly and you loosen your grip so he can look up at you, dazed and happy. 

He doesn’t like how your eyes widen when you look at him. 

“Blue,” you swallow. There’s red in his teeth. You go to touch his lip and stop yourself. 

“Oh,” he runs his tongue over his incisors, and chuckles. “Just a small cut.” He pokes out his bottom lip to show you, he’s right. It is a small thing. “I think that was from the third hit.” 

“Blue-”

“It was so good, Lion. Please,” he strokes your cheek. “Don’t worry. I would have stopped you if it wasn’t, I promised didn’t I?” 

You nod, still a little uncertain. Your worry distracts you momentarily, and Blue leans up quickly to kiss you. He licks into your mouth, groaning as his blood hits your tongue. 

You take a sharp intake of breath, but you don’t pull away. You kiss him back harshly, lightly nipping at his lip and squeezing his shoulders when he moans. 

Gently, he coaxes you around so that he can lay you back against the sofa, with the armrest behind your head. 

He hisses as he pulls out, part of him already lamenting being away from you, but the sight of his spend dripping out of you makes him groan. 

“Oh, yes Lion,” he presses at your thighs, spreading you wider. “A feast.” 

You gasp as he dives to your core, dragging his warm tongue slowly through your folds in one long lick. He watches you intently as he runs over your clit, ending with a flick before he starts the whole process over again.

You jump, squirm, thrusting closer to his mouth and groaning when he uses one hand to press against your soft stomach, keeping you in place as he continues his languid torture. 

He refuses to go faster, to even sink his tongue in deeper, no matter how much you beg and pull at his hair. Always keeping up that same firm pressure and drawn out pace that is starting to make you lose your grip on reality. 

“Blue,” you plead, wriggle, your clit throbbing as he makes another slow trek through your pussy before his tongue can soothe the ache in your bundle of nerves. 

But even as he reaches that part you need his touch so desperately, it isn’t nearly long enough. You buck, trying to get just a little tiny bit more of that pressure, but it’s fruitless. 

“Blue,” you moan again, your tights shaking. Your stomach is pulled so tight you think you might explode, that heavy throb is painful. Maddening. 

He starts up again, groaning as he licks and, “Fuck,” you shiver, shake as he just drags over your clit, even slower than before, pushing firmer and, and-

You scream, your muscles tensing and spasming as pleasure explodes along your nerves, runs along your veins and overtakes your very being. 

You shiver in his arms as he swirls his tongue over your bundle of nerves again and again, watching you with lust blown eyes as he prolongs your pleasure for as long as he can. 

You sob, shaking with aftershocks as, finally, you start to recover. 

Blue places a light kiss to your core, then belly, before he moves up and settles back between your legs. He’s smiling as he strokes your cheek, looking the most content you’ve ever seen him. 

Lightly you trace his moustache, it’s soaking with his spit and your come. 

Sweat cools on your skin, and you notice the state of his shirt. “You’re going to need to change.” You tease and he laughs. 

Thank you for reading!

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[traincat]

So @softgrungeprophet just posted about John Jameson/Peter Parker, a thing I have nothing for, but it did remind me that I had a Spideytorch WIP where Jonah tries to set John and Peter up and so Peter comes up with the brilliant idea of fake dating Johnny to get out of it, only for John and Johnny to start dating, a thing which will obviously not drive Peter mad with jealousy. Ft my not remotely in order writing practices.

Anyway I don't know when I'll finish it so have a thousand words of people making bad decisions.

--

It was a regular Friday afternoon and Johnny, free of all social and superhero responsibilities, was just trying to relax and maybe catch up on a week’s worth of reality television when a full-grown man hit the side of the Baxter Building going eighty miles an hour.

“Did I scare you? Sorry,” Peter said, not sounding very sorry at all, as he climbed gracefully through the window.

“Of course you scared me! Not everyone has a built in magic spider danger sense!” Johnny said. He looked down at the carpet and the new red footprints there and made a face. “No, it’s fine, track what had better be paint all over my apartment.”

“Thanks, Torchy,” Peter said, as if Johnny had been in any way sincere. “Don’t worry, Reed’s little robot friends will steam clean that right out. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

With friends like these, who needed Doctor Doom.

(blah blah blah)

“I just need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Peter said. “For one, two months, tops. Or however long Jonah has left on this earth. Either or.”

(blah blah blah)

“Look, here’s the deal,” Peter said, rolling his eyes, “and don’t ask how this happened, but I accidentally told JJJ I’m bisexual and –”

“Wait, you did what?” Johnny cut him off. His voice was dangerously high even to his own ears. “You’re what?”

“I just told you it was an accident,” Peter said, still in that tone like it was no big deal and he accidentally came out to major newspaper publishers every other week. For all Johnny knew, maybe he did. For all Johnny knew maybe he put on a rainbow spider-suit and shouted it from the top of the Empire State Building every single Friday Johnny had ever been off-planet.

“How do you accidentally tell your former boss you’re bisexual?” Johnny demanded. Then, his own voice somehow rising even shriller, he added, “You haven’t told me you’re bisexual!”

Peter shot him a look that said that he was pretty sure he just had. As if Johnny wasn’t sitting right in front of him, currently losing his mind.

“The bad news, apparently John Jameson came out to his dad a few months ago,” Peter said.

“That’s the bad news,” Johnny said, his voice both flat and scathing in a way no acting coach he’d ever had would believe he was capable of. “Really.”

“Well, good for John, I guess,” Peter allowed, making a face like he wasn’t quite about all of that. Johnny was going to smother him by the end of this conversation, probably. “But bad for me. Because now Jonah wants to set us up.”

There was a strange static-y sound ringing in Johnny’s ears, like someone had scrambled all his frequencies.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Could you rewind? Maybe to the beginning of this conversation?”

“You’re not listening to me, Johnny,” Peter said. “Jonah basically implied that John and I should get married. The other day I caught him looking at brochures for catering halls out on Long Island. And look, John’s a great guy, but –”

“Great,” Johnny said, his face in his hands. “Fantastic. I’ll send you two a fantasti-toaster.”

“But he’s not my type at all,” Peter said. He reached over and closed his fingers around Johnny’s wrist, tugging his hand effortlessly away from his face and leaving Johnny no choice but to look up into that big brown imploring eyes. “Now, She-Hulk, on the other hand…”

A strangled noise of rage tore itself from Johnny’s throat.

(Peter asks Johnny to be his fake boyfriend to some Bugle event)

--

(Bugle event, Jonah awkwardly talks to Johnny and says something mildly homophobic in an incredibly well meaning way.)

“That’s very… something of you, Mr. Jameson,” Johnny said.

“My daughter Mattie bought me a book,” Jameson admitted.

(blah blah Peter runs off and John and Johnny talk on a balcony)

“You know, that’s the thing about Parker,” John Jameson said, his voice light and casual. “Every time I’ve ever seen him he’s had some beautiful model hanging off his arm.”

Johnny snorted, thinking of the Black Cat, and Mary Jane, and even Carlie Cooper with her whole hot librarian vibe. Dorrie Evans, the prettiest girl in Johnny’s high school, talking Johnny’s ear off on a half dozen of their dates about how Peter Parker was so smart and how he was interested in politics and an inch taller than Johnny and probably much more in touch with his feelings. Yeah, right.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “They should ban him from fashion week for the models’ own good.”

They probably already had. Johnny would have to ask.

“No, I meant…” John trailed off. He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said, realizing he’d cut John off. “What were you saying?”

“I was complimenting you,” John said, his eyes twinkling. “What I said about Parker and beautiful models – I meant you.”

“Oh,” Johnny said, floored. He felt strangely like blushing, but that was silly. Johnny was a famous space explorer. It was hardly the first time a handsome astronaut had called him beautiful.

It was, perhaps, the first time it had happened to him on earth. And the first time it had happened outside of a hostage situation. And the first time Ben hadn’t been there to threaten to beat the astronaut up.

“You are here with Peter Parker, aren’t you?” John asked. “As his date, I mean.”

“Allegedly,” Johnny said. He’d meant it to come out under his breath, but it didn’t, and he suspected his eyeroll wasn’t quite as internal as he’d intended either. John laughed, but not unkindly.

“He does have a habit of disappearing, doesn’t he?” John said lightly. “I get it, though, as the son of a newsman. The number of dinners my father actually made it to the main course without rushing off to take a call or chase a story...” He trailed off, sighing ruefully, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “That must be why they get along so well.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Johnny asked, feeling emboldened, maybe, by the way John was looking at him, by the fact that he had called him beautiful.

He definitely wasn’t feeling spiteful over the fact that he was supposed to be here with Peter and Peter had, of course, ditched him, caught up in fifteen other different things, just like always. Things that were more important than Johnny. Things that Johnny could have helped with, maybe, if Peter had asked.

Or maybe things Johnny couldn’t have helped with. After all there were plenty of reasons he might have found Peter’s shirt abandoned in the corner of the men’s room. Things that might have everything to do with, say, the Black Cat instead of Doctor Octopus. 

“Of course,” John said. His hand landed next to Johnny’s on the balcony railing. “You can tell me anything.”

(Johnny admits Peter only brought him as his date to get Jonah to quit it.)

“My father does have that way about him,” John said ruefully. “He’s trying to be very supportive. My foster sister bought him a book. He said he’s thinking about starting a podcast.”

“Elderly Bugle subscribers, watch out,” Johnny said before he could stop himself. Luckily for him, John laughed.

[John kisses Johnny at some fancy event]

--

So now Johnny was a homewrecker. Either of his fake relationship, or of Peter’s future Daily Bugle society page wedding to John Jameson, certified American hero. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

--

Johnny stared at Jonah. Jonah stared at Johnny.

John tucked into his steak like he wasn’t sitting in the middle of the world’s most awkward dinner. Johnny guessed he must have had experience getting through dinners with J Jonah Jameson, but he could have taken a little pity on Johnny, a novice.

(And then somewhere in here Peter would have gone insane.)