#its a super work in progress but hes. hes there

[callmearcturus]

(i posted this but tumblr fucked up the formatting SO BAD and then the editor would not open so here's a re-do i guess!

bless u, bc this is the one that's gonna be Another Batshit Arcturus AU

except all the scenes I have sketched out are massive Act Two spoilers.... so instead, I'm gonna share the work-in-progress outline for Act One. or, specifically the modern day half of Act One. this story is told in approximately 2024 and 2011 concurrently, with the 2011 plotline providing vital context for the 2024 plotline.

for context: Ted is a director working with Rebecca's A24-style production company. Trent is a writer. Keeley is Trent's agent who managed to convince him to sell the movie rights to one book. act one is Ted trying to get those rights before a larger studio snaps them up. Act two is the filming of the movie. Act three is post-production and press tour.

One piece of additional context is that Trent is a reclusive writer who keeps writing extremely location-accurate novels set in America. Ted is shocked to learn the guy's not American, tbh. Here's the bibliography i made up for Trent:

[SPOILER, REDACTED]

editor for a few anthologies

The Sarpedon EP, 1968 (moody psuedo-mythical story about psychedelic/progressive rock in Nashville)

An Aquarian Guide to Atlantis, IL (weird, almost ergodic story of a hitchiker trying to get from St. Louis to Chicago and finding a strange town)

The Tides of Static (an anthology of seemingly disconnected vignettes that wind up linked by a radio DJ working a remote blowtorch tower)

Paris of the Plains (a sports drama/romance about a journalist uncovering a massive scandal in Kansas City football while trying not to rekindle her love of an old fling who's now working on the same team embroiled in the scandal. later adapted into the film The Time After The Last Time, directed by Ted Lasso, produced by Rebecca Welton)

so here, a glimpse of how I outline a story

ACT ONE: Pre-production

Storyline A (Ted POV):

Ted, modern day: Ted has to find Rebecca. She's supposed to be on vacation and Ted would never dream of interrupting her HOWEVER there's a scoop in Variety that Trent Crimm is auctioning the rights to his latest book despite years of resistance. Ted is terrified that someone is gonna buy the rights and make a bad movie or worse sit on the rights and never make anything out of them.

finding Rebecca takes some doing but Ted is determined and he knows all her offices and hiding places.

Ted is a huge fan of Crimm's work, has read all his previous books and has been keeping an eye out for him to maybe offer something up for adaptation. That it's specifically the one about a football scandal in Kansas City with a fantastic sense of space and also is a romance? Ted HAS to direct this movie, but Rebecca's studio can't compete with the huge prices that a Paramount or Disney would be throwing around. So they need to make a direct offer before the sale.

Rebecca emails Crimm's agent. This first attempt gets a polite, impersonal dismissal. So Ted is the person to reply (as Rebecca watches over his shoulder to ensure he's not making a fool of them) and tries to convince them to reconsider bc Ted is specifically interested in doing it right.

Still no.

T: "Get me an address, I'll fly out--" R: "Fly out? The address available through his agent is in London." T: "Okay, wouldn't've called that."

Rebecca gets Ted the address and Ted takes the Tube to get there bc he still doesn't have a car-and-driver. (He claims its organic location scouting.)

The address seems to be Trent's house but he's not there, just Keeley and Adelaide Crimm. They will not reveal where Trent is.

Ted notices Adelaide's accent and is relieved Trent is American. Adelaide says no, he's super british, but he took a job in America when she was young and brought her along.

The house is fully of photos of places. Addy is a photographer. Ted is thrilled to see shots of the Paseo, the Plaza, and other KC landmarks.

Keeley explains they are not really looking to option the book out because, well. They're not.

Adelaide kind of likes Ted and how he talks about her dad's books so she texts him later, gives Ted her dad's email. the one he actually checks, not the fake ones that get listed.

A turn for the epistolary as Ted attempts to reach Trent Crimm.

Ted emails Trent, who is baffled that he found this email address. Thanks Ted for his interest but tells him it was difficult enough to decide to offer up any rights and he frankly doesn't want to talk about it further, goodbye.

Ted takes a little time to try to read/watch every interview he can with Trent Crimm. They are basically non-existent and the ones that do exist are fully text.

Emailing each other continues: Eventually, Trent admits he's hoping the book rights are bought and sat on forever. Keeley was the one to convince him this was a good way to ensure Adelaide was set up for years to come and he could write his next few books without concern about money. But actually seeing such a movie? He wants nothing to do with it.

There's something unique about this email, a slip-up: Trent mentions he's in KCMO. The moment Ted realizes, he's inbound, racing to get there in time.

All for naught: Ted makes good time, probably the best possible time a guy can make from Heathrow to MCI to Emmanuel Cleaver Blvd without use of a fighter jet.

Still: Trent's gone, and Keeley's there.

Ted hangs a lampshade on the running gag: How in the sam hell is she always there instead of Trent?! "Yanno, I ain't ever seen the two of you in the same room together, Ms. Jones." Keeley cackles. "He's a slippery one! But trust me, you'd know him if you met him. He's got that aura of irritable uptight fiction author."

Ted is extremely discouraged that he missed Trent yet again, tells Keeley he is bound and determined to make sure this movie's done right but doesn't know what to do anyone. Keeley cracks, sympathetic, and gives Ted the Actual phone number for Trent. "Do not call him. He blocks all unknown numbers. Text."

So Ted does. Takes a photo of the fountains at the Plaza at night and sends it to Trent.

TL: I think the fight between Kit and Moses happens here at night, when they turn the lights on under the fountains and it's beautiful, all that watery glow. The contrast there, it reminds me of how painfully obvious it is that Moses wanted to take her there for real, to see her son playing in the water. It's the right place and the wrong time, it's always right place wrong time with them. LONG pause but Ted sees the text has been marked as "Read". Honestly he's surprised Trent has read receipts on. TC: Why are you in KCMO? TL: Flew here hoping to catch you. Last email, you accidentally hinted you were at your rental off Emanuel Cleaver. TC: Ah. An amateur mistake, I see. But I've slipped your net again, it seems.

Ted returns back home to London, resigned to taking another project and letting this one go. Pulls his copy of Paris of the Plains from his bag, reads it on the plane back.

Gets off the plane and he's missed a call from Trent Crimm. Shocked, Ted immediately calls back.

TC: "You have one shot, Mr. Lasso, so make it count. Tell me why you're so determined. It's not the job of a director to try to cajole a reclusive, unfriendly author into optioning his book to a boutique film studio. So why?" TL: "When I first moved to the UK, I was missin' home so much, I was turning into a barely-functioning daydrinker, and I almost gave up, went back to Kansas, gave up my career. But Beard loaned me his copy of Atlantis, IL and you... knew those roads and those people. You gave me a home I could carry around in my bag. Dunno if I would have survived without. Then I read Sarpedon, and Rebecca got me an advance copy of Tides of Static for my birthday." TC: "So you're a fan." TL: "No! I mean, obviously I'm a huge admirer, yeah, but... Trent, I just flew almost nine thousand miles just for a chance to talk to you about this, so I'm not gonna split hairs here. I need to be the guy to direct this. No one else is going to get it right, and I need it to be right, 'cause I know it. If you give me a chance, I'm going to move the whole production out to KC, I'm going to take what's in my head and put it on the screen. And I-- I think it's what's in your head, too." TC: "You know, it's supposedly my worst book. That was part of the little joke of it all; Keeley convinced me to sell something, so I picked the one the critics hated. You'll need someone good to do the adapting." TL: "Heck, if I need to write the treatment myself, I'll do it." TC: "..... Alright." TL: "!!!!" TC: "Nine thousand miles is an absurd ordeal to put yourself through and the writer in me wants you to get some payoff for it. So. Tell Ms. Welton to tack on another five million and its yours."

[clowndotgay]

Hiii!! it's me again :))

(smiles cutely and bats eyelashes) (I SWEAR IT'S MY LAST REQUEST) So I was wondering if uhm it would be possible to get more renders of thomas... Whenever I see him or his brother I get a serotonin boost (I have the most normal ttcc blog ever hahaha ha ha ha)

I've seen that you started to receive more request recently, so once again, if you don't want to do it, don't force yourself!

oh yeah absolutely here's A Bunch Of Him:

inspiration for the style of the first one was drawn from @/applekitty's renders, which look absolutely amazing and have a great vibe to them. there's more specific origins for each of these images, so there's that + rambling + a doodle below the cut

more specifically the first image is inspired by someone in the clash discord who was hypothesizing about boardbot hq boss fight just being a fight vs the chairmans whole family, which i think would be. A Time. (hence Crystalline being there, but i don't have a design for her, personally, so, y'know.) the gif was requested by a friend because i find it really funny that he really is just an ottoman if you angle the camera away from his face??? third image i made as a desktop background, fourth image is thomas sleeping in his office. i think he ends up sleeping overnight frequently, he just has too much work to do to commute, honestly.

^ quick doodle, transcript of the text is in the alt text because i know its difficult to read. conversation takes place several years before events of the game.

OKAY SORRY FOR THE LONG POST AGAIN... THERES A LOT I WANT TO SAY ABOUT THIS ASK ASIDE FROM POSTING THOMAS!!! (BUT I LOVE POSTING THOMAS!!!!!!)

first of all the image you attached is absolutely amazing! secondly you are free to send requests any time!!! i do not actually get (that) many, after i respond to this one there'll only be another in the backlog to do, and i've only been putting off that one because it's got a cog that i don't have the model for yet (though it's not like that's a hassle, really) rest assured sending me a request is not bothering me or forcing me. if i don't want to do a request i'll just ignore it or say nah. i am a very bored unemployed person who likes toontown and likes making stuff of other peoples blorbos!

i read all of the comics on the clash site the other day, so i've been meaning to do renders/draw thomas and robert anyhow... they're both such sillies. silly old men. this isn't related but roberts model is. super expressive! like, i can only really get him to look angry, but damn is it easy to make him look a bunch of different shades of angry. i think its mostly the excessive eyelid bones. that last sentence sucked actually, banning myself from posting about fictional eyelids

[carcarrot]

having another one of my job-related crises

[the-kipsabian]

the first time i met kip i had the guts to ask *him* if he knew who *i* was and i just think about that a lot at times cause its hilarious to me

[lokh]

I think it’s muscle tension, for me, my blood pressure and rate is fine. I had it for i dunno, 3 months? It also felt like I couldnt breathe deep enough. And again another time for a couple of months, which felt even more muscular than the time b4, stabbing pain when I laid on that side for a month, that one started at a social event completely out of nowhere so couldn't have been pulled by anything other than internal tension. I think spending so long researching what it could be, and trying to Make it go away made it much worse because ofc…it was giving me anxiety which made it hurt which made me anxious. I can’t tell you what made it go away, I think seeing a doctor to be like. You’re fine. Was good. But after that trying to accept it and idk, telling my body to do it worst instead of trying to fight it and being scared of it getting worse. I still get it now but usually only for a few days. I also try to get my heart rate up once a day by like. Jumping or running etc. which kinda helps get rid of the anxiety that I feel like…builds up without my awareness.

hmmm interesting... im glad that its lessened for you at least!

[the-cooler-king]

Cool thing I've started doing:

when I get.... not exactly down on myself, but start questioning my s/o like "why doesn't he do this more" or "why hasn't he texted me" or "why won't he talk to me about xyz", and I'm like do I really want to keep putting the effort in to constantly reach out to him; and I get kinda... frustrated because there is just so little communication sometimes. I ask myself once again... am I okay with the other day being the last time we speak just cuz I think xyz? Am I okay with not giving it my all and being genuine? The answer is always no. I think about those funny little YouTube videos that are like "yes, a man can certainly do it if he wants; but how many times do *you* want something and you find so many excuses to put it off or not do it and regret it? That's much more likely." So I'm like okay. He knows he does not have to talk to me every day. He knows I'm here. He knows I'm trying my best. He has all the information I need him to have. I have told him I still want to be in his life, and he has told me he wants to be in mine. So if I text him and just say I'm thinking of him & hope he has a good day, that's okay. As long as he knows I'm still here *for him* that's the crux of it all. I'm not waiting, I am floating along at the same pace in the same river of time. I really treasure the time we have together, and if it ends one day, it ends and I'm at peace with all the implications between.

[radiotorn]

trying not to breathe too hard so i dont scare my darling baby cat luna

[prettyboykatsuki]

lightning strike | h. iwaizumi

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader, recently established relationship, mutual pining, pwp, dry humping + making out, nipple play, implied raw sex, super love-dovey, deliberate name change from iwaizumi to hajime 18+

✮ wc ; 4k (???????)

✮ a/n ; something deeply frightening happened to me in writing this but whatever. made it with ten minutes to spare happy bday mr iwaizumi

pls be nice if characterization is everywhere its been a while

He’s nervous.  

So nervous. 

You laugh at him over a can of beer, even harder when he visibly flinches at the sound. The room is too quiet since all of your company has left for the evening. Iwaizumi is tipsy but not drunk - though you think if he has another can he’ll get there just fine.  

“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep frowning.”  

He shoots you a glare that makes your lips quirk up. “Shut up. You sound like my Ma.”  

“How is she by the way? Still good?”  

Iwaizumi snorts and takes a long sip of his beer. He tilts his head back against the couch, arm stretched along the seats. His muscles pull taut underneath the skintight material of his turtleneck. You find yourself sitting on your hands to calm down, but you’re too unfocused for it too work.  

“She’s good. She likes the countryside. Been growing squash and tomatoes and everything. Gonna try and stay with her a bit during off-season,” His voice is wistful and affectionate. An only son, filial and polite - you smile at him lovingly. “You should come visit with me.”  

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Guess it’s the same since we’ve already met but since we’re going steady I though you might be too nervous.”  

The realization settles in too late. Just when you thought he’d swallow the nerves down, they make an appearance once again. He sits up straight, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze to the coffee table separating you both. A blush spreads up, all through his body. His ears turn especially turn some shade of cherry red. Dusts all along his nose. He tsks at you, tongue clicking with a familiar petulance. You bite back a laugh.  

“Going steady? Seriously?”  

“Well,” Your face twists in mischief as you look up at him, your eyes locking briefly. “You’d get all hissy if I called us lovers.”  

His eyes go wide - in equal parts shock and mild disgust. You can’t hold the laugh back that time time no matter how hard you try. It bubbles up out of you, euphoric and hysterical. Your laughter is too loud to savor his displeasure, so caught up in it that it takes you a few minutes to calm down again,  

“I hate you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. A grin splits your face. 

“No, you don’t.”  

He frowns and his blush darkens just a touch  

The room goes quiet save for the sound of your heartbeat. You try and collect yourself. The house feels too quiet, all prior company absen. Not that Mattsun and Maki dragged out Oikawa to be considerate of your newfound love or anything. You’re sure you’ve already gotten a long text detailing your extortion related to the favor. Still, you’re glad to be alone with him.  

It’s easy to split your time between all of them separately when you’re all in the same place - but complicated to be all together. And alone time with Iwaizumi has always been hard to come by.  

You’ve been pining for him since highschool - the frequency you wish to see him tuned tuned by the passing years of your relationship and feelings. You’ve gone through the whole spectrum of desires. From wanting to see him everyday constantly, to hoping you’d never have to see him again. It took you well over a decade to make any progress, and the entire process (while surely heartfelt) has been unmistakably clumsy and so, so long.  

Spending alone time with Iwaizumi has thus always been complicated except for this one time. You got together, officially, just last week. The day he came home, where you incidentally found yourselves alone together. Something that’d been rare years prior due to said pining and trying to get over him. You don’t even really know how it happened. It felt like the most significant moment in your life thus far and incomparably anticlimatic at once. He was just sending you home since you’d got completely shitfaced, and before you left you grabbed him by the collar and announced it. Just like that.  

(You threw up half-way through the car ride back. Your Uber was nice enough to pull over so you didn’t do it in his car.) 

You went home after and didn’t speak for days. It took a few more days for either of you to work up the courage to sort things out forreal, but you made it work with the help of even more alcohol.  

Things get busy though, when Oikawa returns home and Hajime is off-season. It’s rare things line up, and when they do - it’s only natural you spend all your time together. You did today too, celebrating Iwaizumi’s birthday among the four of you with take-out and Godzilla movies on your nice flatscreen.  

But you haven’t been alone with each other since your chat establishing your relationship as not a pipe-dream, which was notably through text.  

He’s nervous, so incredibly nervous but so are you. Just a little.  

You look up after being lost in thought - to see Iwaizumi stare at you. The air shifts slow and steady, thick tension stirring in your gut. You bite the inside of your cheek, rubbing your feet together as you fold over yourself, chin resting on your knee. 

You wonder if you should be the one to break the distance. Iwaizumi beats you to the punch this time. You suppose you’re even.  

“Come ‘ere.”  

He pushes the coffee table farther away from him with ease, careful not to knock anything over. Your tipsy self swoons over his competence, but you’re sure you’d do the same sober.  

The look he gives you as you crawl over to him makes you feel bashful. You go over until you’re sitting side by side - stretching your legs out. Your thighs barely touches. Iwaizumi jolts, swiping a hand over his face in exasperation.  

“Sorry,”  

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” Because it is, then just to make sure. “Are we okay?”  

“More than okay,” He admits, a breath of relief following the words. “It was a good birthday, by the way. Thank you.”  

“They’ll get upset that you only thanked me,”  

He bristles immediately making you giggle. “I’ll thank those knuckleheads later.” 

You smile at him, wide and bright. He looks at you before quickly looking away, laughing a little humorlessly to himself. You wonder what he’s thinking about but decide against asking, comfortable letting him go at whatever speed.  

“Can I uh—“ He clears his throat. “Wanna kiss you. Just uhh… shit.”  

You’d love to tease him, but you feel like your heart might explode out of your body so there’s not really much room. Nodding, you sit up on your knees and turn a little to face him. His features soften with remarkable fondness. You flush at the sudden attention. He sits up straighter, turning his head to face you. His forehead knocks against yours softly, noses brushes. His eyes are so sharp. You have to close your own when you feel him leaning in to kiss you.  

Iwaizumi is warm. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be. His hands feel big as one snakes up to cup your neck. He gives you one deep kiss, followed by two pecks before pulling away to make you chase him. He rewards you by kissing you agai. The sudden pressure makes your head spin.  

You pull away dazed. “You’re… super good at kissing.”  

“Yeah?”  

You press your thighs together at his reply. So sexy it’s unfair. “Uh-huh.”  

He gives you a weighted hum. 

His reaction spurs you on then. You pull away from him momentarily. Iwaizumi stares at you in reply, worry making his brow furrow. Before he can get the words out, you seat yourself on his lap. He’s taken aback as he realizes your intent, your arms around his neck. It’s not even really the alcohol, as much as it’s everything else. Cramped in your living room together, pressed up against your couch. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and shiver in his arms smelling his cologne. Spicy with a hint of pine. He hesitates, hands settling so carefully on your hips.  

He lets you stay like that undisturbed until you’re ready to pull away. Like he senses you needed that. He’s always been so good at knowing what exactly you need. Suddenly restless you decide you need to look at him again - make sure he’s real. That this is real.  

“Hey,” He mutters. His pitch is low, sends your heart hammering.  

You giggle, fluttering nervously. “Hi,” And then, “You like me,”  

“Pfft,” His voice is so tender, so soft, so comforting. “More than that.”  

Suddenly overwhelmed by your own giddiness, you squeak. You want to bury yourself in his shoulder again, but he’s quick to hold your wrist and stop you. He pins you under his gaze. It’s so intense you can’t help but feel like a deer caught in headlights. Your head is empty and all he’s doing is looking at you.  

But maybe that’s the whole problem. He’s looking at you, and you’ve wanted that for more than a decade. Now having it is too much, too suddenly - and you’re almost afraid of having it. It’s just a gaze, but it’s yours. He’s telling he’s yours in a way that’s just like him.  

“You…” He starts on something before letting you go. “For a long time,”  

He doesn’t need to explain. You already know.  

“Me too,” 

He calms down when you get it..  

“Really?” He follows up. He doesn’t look at you as he goes on. “How long?”  

You think on it.  

“Since we were fifteen?”  

“Same as me, then.” He’s clumsy with the follow-up. “That’s…”  

“Dumb? Ridiculous? Too long?” You say, filling in the words for him. “I know.”  

The extent of your own longing comes to you in waves. Love, like the sea trapped behind ice - so easily shattered. You’re drowning, your lungs aching trying to get adjusted to what is finally yours. The shock of it comes and goes, but you’re surrounded by it all the same. Iwaizumi stares at you and you stare back and nothing in the world exists except this desire you’ve kept to yourself for years.  

His name comes out like a whimper on your lips. “Iwaizumi,”  

“Hajime,” He corrects, so tender. So sweet to you. “Please,”  

“Hajime,” You test the name out on your tongue. It’s sweet.  

He doesn’t say anything after that.  

Your breath hitches as Hajime crowds into your space again. His hands are firm on your hips as he kisses you again. It’s different from before, lingers longer - his tongue pressing along the seam of your lips until you open them and allow him in deeper.The taste of alcohol is clearer on your tongue, bitter remnants of malt making you drool at the corners of your mouth. You kiss hungrily, your hands carding through the short, black hair with a longing sigh. Hajime groans a little when you tug at the root and the only thing you can think to do is try to sink into him further. .  

The hear raises without warning. Your skin under your clothes feels like it’s on fire. It feels different too suddenly for you to adjust and keep completely calm. Lust that borders cosmic engraves into your bones. Crumbling under the weight of it, you kiss Hajime like your life would end without it. In the moment, it feels like it would. Exchanged breaths are the only source of air for that space and time. You feel frantic, hazy - and Hajime who you know to be so steady, proves to be in the same place as you. 

His hands are so big. You can feel how tight he grabs you, his thumb pressing into your hipbones - itching to go lower. You don’t want to pull away but you want more. In the second you take a breath you tell him as much. Your own delirium might bring you shame if you were in any place to really feel it. “You can touch me. However you want.”  

“Fuck. Don’t say that.”  

“Hajime, please.”  

You mutter something but you don’t catch what it really. Your head is swimming with unrepentant ardor and your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Hajime kisses you again and takes the lead. The pleasure echoes in how you sigh, your hips rutting against his lap as his hands squeeze your ass. His hands are so fucking big - strong and kind and hold you with no uncertainty. The groping goes straight to your cunt, stomach starting to twist with familiar arousal. You push your hips against him again.  

You’re hardly thinking about it. Hardly thinking at all - no coherency or sense thrumming through your brain except his name. Hajime, Hajime, Hajime. An incantation of destiny. A love song.  

You feel his fingers inch up to go underneath your shirt - all of a sudden feeling burdened by all the layers between you. You can’t calm down. 

He pulls away from you first in that instance. Before you can ask, he nudges himself close to your neck, kissing along your jaw. You feel the fabric of your shirt tug. “Can I take this off?”  

You nod rapidly, then mimic him wanting him to do the same. His laugh is raspy in the follow through - your shirt and bra discarded somewhere on the floor. He stops suddenly, flicking his gaze up to you like he’s asking permission again. You just nod, not knowing how else to convey your desires.  

Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal and cool air. Hajime’s tongue flicks from his lips.  

His gaze makes you feel ticklish. He runs his palms over your tits with an appreciative noise. His eyes linger long enough to make your skin go hot all over, your spine prickling with heat.  

“Staring,”  

He looks up at your face, amused by your pout then kisses you as he feels you up, calloused palms brushing against your nipples, tits fitting perfectly in his hands. He smiles a little against your mouth. “Guess I am.”  

“Take yours off,” You plea. 

He obliges you, peeling the tight shirt away from his body and leaving his bare torso in full view. The proximity makes your lungs tighten like they can’t get enough air - heat radiating from his skin. His physique is toned, layers of muscle soft and comfortable He’s structured and gorgeous like a statue. You’re greeted by his broad chest and the corded muscles of his biceps. All sinew and strength, down his core. Strong and stable and big everywhere you could possibly look. You feel awestruck, mouth-watering at the sight - clit throbbing. Objectively attractive, you’re sure anyone in your place would feel the same. But this is your Hajime and the body he’s worked so hard on, full grown and yours. The trail of hairs down his stomach, getting coarse. The v-line of his waist makes you clench. 

 Too much.  

 The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, like water spilling from a broken dam. “I want you to fuck me so bad,”  

His brows raise. You can feel something twitch hard against your clothed pussy. At full mast underneath the confines of his pants. \Your eyes go wet when you realize what it is. Mind sticky, you draw your lips into a pout and silent protest. Despite your desperation, you almost want to say it again, pleasure thrumming through your body at his reaction. It feels like electricity sparking up from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. 

 Hajime presses his face to your neck all over again - hot, open mouth kisses trailing from jaw to chest. You gasp when his mouth closes around your tits, tongue laving over the tender skin and making your back arch.  

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” He mirrors. His voice is scratchy and his grip is tight. “Been wanting to fuck you so bad for so long, you have no idea.”  

There’s something true and well pathetic about the yearning that wells up inside of your gut and settles itself in your sternum. It spreads and grows and tangles in your ribs, curls around the vessels of your heartbeat. The kind of yearning that makes your whole being tremble, makes you want to preen and sing like a canary. It’d be good if time stood still so he could fuck you infintely - never being able to go where you can’t reach.  

You rock against him and Hajime holds you steady like always. His voice drops down to murmur - speaking with alarming clarity. You’re teary from the sound of his voice.  

“Let’s cum together,” He offers as reprieve, so sweet despite the harsh grip on your hips as he draws your weight down closer to him. You’re suddenly conscious of your choice in clothes - how thin the fabric of your shorts really as as the rough outline of his cock presses against the seam. You’re glad you didn’t wear underwear “And then I’ll make you cum again. I’ll take care of you,”  

“You always take care of me,” You say with no awareness of your surroundings. He laughs breathlessly. ‘ 

“Yeah..since it’s you, it’s easy.”  

You go wide-eyed but don’t get a minute to dissect. Not bothering to unbutton his jeans, you gape at the hard outline of his cock confined in black boxers. his  He picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as your spine touches the carpet of your living room floor. You make a surprised noise as you’re let down gently. He doesn’t unfurl you from him. You spark back to life as his lips meet yours again chastely. The complaint you had dies on your lips when he trails down your jaw again. His voice is next to your ear, sinfully rough - warm breath tickling your skin. His teeth tug on your ear lobe and you shiver.  

“Tell me if it’s too much,”  

You don’t get a chance to ask about it.  

The sudden motion of his hard cock rutting and humping against your sticky, wet cunt punches the air of out of your lungs.  

There’s only a single layer of wet fabric keeping him from fucking you.  The very idea makes your pussy throb unhelpfully. You understand all of a sudden that this was what he meant about wanting to make you cum. But it’s Hajime, your Hajime - so making you do any work wouldn’t cut it. Humping you in missionary of all things like he’s already inside you.  

The thought overwhelms and you gasp.  

You don’t recognize the sound of your own voice, so high and pitchy with need. Pure pornography. But there’s no camera for you perform for, nothing but Hajime above with with a heavy gaze. Your spine arches at the sensation once it hits its stride, the angle of friction just right. The indirect touches makes your core throb. Your clit has been achingly sensitive for so long, and the release of tension in a single thrust is enough to make you shudder each time. It feels like you’ve been holding the feeling in your entire life. You wheeze his name out brokenly as he does it again - a sharp thrust, precise enough to be perfect like he already knows you that well.  

Your lower body feels week as the arousal starts to climb to a steady chorus. You pant for him like a bitch in heat.  

He’s not inside you but the smack of his hips against yours makes you feel like you’re getting fucked anyways. You imagine how it’ll feel when he really fucks you and can’t see straight after the fact. Each little movement spreads precum along your shorts, already wet with your own arousal. The friction of the damp fabric makes you cry out from pleasure,  animalistic with need. Your nails dig into his biceps as he kisses you all over, wherever he can possible reach. Along your neck, shoulders, collarbones chest. Any place he has accsess.  

You want him so fucking deep it’s frustrating, want him up to your throat - but the lack of direct touch makes you want him more desperately. And it makes it feel so, so good. The kind of pleasure that’s dull and throbbing but makes something in your spine go alight, like shoving your thumb into a bruise. You want Hajime to press himself into you hard enough to make the healed dull yellows vibrant purple and red all over again.  

You gasp helplessly each time he rocks his hips into you. He’s whispering such filth against your ear, into your mouth each time you kiss and you can’t reply with anything but his name. He praises you each time anyway, goads you into saying it again. Again and again and again until you can’t find your own voice.  

“Say it again,” Hoarse, punctuated by another thrust that nearly drives you over the edge and makes your eyes go wide. “Say my name again, baby”  

“Hajime.” So you say it- can’t think of any substitute since you’re not sure god would suffice. Locked between you in the warm sticky air is just Hajime, all yours.  

Every muscle in your body starts to lock up as you hit the final stride to your orgasm. You want to cum so badly for him and only him. All over his cock in any way he’ll light you. The thought pushes you over the edge. Over and over and over until you hang over the precipice of your own orgasm. When it hits, it hits like a crash of thunder on open plain. Like suddenly everything in you that’s every been grounded in Earth is scattered with sparks, skating and careening across your body. You feel him in the fiber of your being. Your toes curl at the sudden release, not able to voice a warning that isn’t just a soft gargle in the back of your throat. He doesn’t stop or stutter in his motion, instead gripping your hips tight as he can while lets you run through your high - nothing but praise and affection.  

You can feel him more than you can see him cum along with you. Sticky, hot seed flowing in spurts as his dick twitches for you - his ragged breathing covering your skin in goosebumps. You moan at the warm sensation drenching your poor, covered pussy and find the load to be wasted though you feel contented anyway. 

 You’re barely sane enough to catch your breath, but he eventually lets you down - though you can’t keep from hugging him. You pull back to look at each other.  

You brush the sweat matted hair away from his forehead with a lovesick sigh and giggle. He looks down at you with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours with.  

“Can’t believe I came in my pants like a teenager,” He says through a laugh.  

“It’s like making up for lost time,” You say warmly, all floaty. “Plus, the way you were fucking me but not fucking me…definitely a man. It was really hot, you know?”  

He groans. “I’ll get riled up again.”  

You smile at him. “Let’s fuck lots for your birthday, Hajime.”  

“Is that the present you mentioned earlier?”  

You pretend to think on it. “Mm..no. Not just the sex, anyway.” 

He looks at you confused as you lean in closer to him. “It’s safe so there’s no condoms anywhere in this apartment, unless you wanna go stop to get some.”  

He gives you a blown out look of lust with a soft breath, voice bordering a growl. “As if I’d make it through the door now.”  

You laugh helplessly happy and kiss him. “Happy birthday.” And then a little quieter. “I love you.”  

He softens visibly but doesn’t say anything else. You don’t need to hear him to know.  

You think the spare copy of your keys might make him cry. So you decide you’ll give it to him later. 

 The clock hasn’t hit midnight yet, anyhow. You have plenty of time.  

Now and always.  

[cherryfennec]

what could you think of for a second and third phase for super dimentio

Ymmm I don't really see him having another phases so no but I've had something for the first 20 seconds of his initial battle in mind.

Tag, he's it.

okay so like spm spoilers and stuff but:

When you first start the battle with Super Dimentio there's a certain period of time where he's invincible. You can't damage him and nothing really happens until Timpani returns with the Pure Hearts.

Now in my personal opinion while I'm still glad they added this moment, it still left me a little unsatisfied. Here's why:

Dimentio turning into Super Dimentio with Luigi is his big moment, his victory. He has become something that is indestructible, something that generations of Ancients have been passing down. He is a god. The time frame where he's indestructible in the game is supposed to show that you are powerless against him, that no Pixl and no item will do anything. This is supposed to make you realize in the moment that: it's truly hopeless.

Unfortunately Dimentios spotlight is VERY quickly taken from him, which makes the idea less effective than it could've been. You see Dimentio working for this the entire game, just for him to win in the end only for 20 seconds and then turn into a joke of a fight. The speech he gives before the fight is longer than the actual boss, making everything slightly anticlimactic (at least to me).

The concept I've been thinking about using in my take of the Super Mario lore (SPM specifically here) is that those 20 seconds of standing and waiting around for the game to decide it's time to move on are instead spent on: A reverse game of magical tag.

The concept of a magical tag itself is used earlier in the game by Dimentio himself who makes Mario and Luigi humour him by traveling through the worlds they have been in before and finding ripples in space he's leaving behind to keep the game going. I thought by turning this moment of 20 second invincibility into a game of magical tag where he's “it” this time would help that feeling of hopelessness and stakes sink in.

In this scenario Mario still cannot fight back as Dimentio,actively chasing him, is invincible, which forces him to run from danger. He runs from world to world, but now in contrast to the previous tag game, the worlds are being wiped out as you go through them for the final time. They're barely holding on, torn from their colors and mixing with the white void peeking through. Maybe some leftover npcs encouraging to keep going or just being terrified instead. Dimentio is chasing after you, peeking his long arms or head through the ripples to strike, and as he makes his way behind you the world progressively disappears and you have to make it out before it's entirely gone, else its game over. In the end of this chase you make it back to Castle Bleck where it picks up on Timpani restoring the Pure Hearts with Blumiere and using them to help Mario by removing Super Dimentios invincibility.

In conclusion I think making this moment akin to what I described above would help set the tone of this enemy more. For one this moment is now LONGER so you can see direct consequences of Dimentios victory outside and think about it more, second it turns you into an actual helpless plaything that you were meant to be. The entire path of the chase leads you back to Castle Bleck, it's a circle. This time you cannot escape and this time the evil doings have been set in motion on a rapid scale. It's a moment of Darkness that's broken by Timpani, someone who has been with you since the beginning and who you saw grow. She's now full of love and determined to win, something that to me comes off as super inspiring. She has been cursed to live a miserable existence yet she found the Light thanks to you. And THAT'S why you shouldn't give up even after all the ruined worlds you've seen. You have to keep fighting for them even in their darkest moment, even when they're gone.

also to clear any confusion yes i know this game is 3+ but i still think it'd be cool ig

[jezebelblues]

so not cool | h.s

summary: in which spiderman is obviously much cooler than dad

cw: dadrry. overuse of the word spider-man. u could play a drinking game by how much its mentioned prolly

word count: approx 1.7k

| the result of being up for 20h, writers block n being bored out of my mind !! idk what this is but…it’s..definitely an addition to the dadrry universe .. for sure (prob will delete 🔥)

not necessary but here’s the first dadrry post if ur into that

masterlist

July 2021

The sound of the credits rolling filled the living room as Harry leaned back against the couch, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips. Atlas, now three years old and still wide-eyed with excitement, sat curled up against his father’s side, his tiny fingers clutching the corner of a fleece one direction blanket that Harry had bought off Etsy, something he found to be absolutely hilarious. They had just finished watching the original Spider-Man movie, the one with Tobey Maguire, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the awe that was practically radiating off his son.

“Dad,” Atlas breathed, his voice filled with wonder as he looked up at Harry with those big, round eyes that mirrored his mother’s. “Pider-man s’cool.”

They were working on his pronunciation of R’s and S’s. Not too much progress yet.

Harry bit back a laugh, ruffling his son’s messy curls as he glanced down at him. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool, isn’t he?”

Atlas nodded vigorously, his little legs kicking against the couch as his excitement bubbled over. “He climbs n’ has webs n’ fights ba’guys!”

Harry grinned, watching the way Atlas’s face lit up as he recounted all of the abilities with the fervor only a toddler could muster. His little hands gestured wildly as if he were mimicking shooting webs out of his wrists.

“Best superhero in’a whole world!” Atlas declared, sitting up straighter as if this revelation were the most important one he’d ever made.

Harry chuckled, reaching over to grab the remote and lower the volume on the TV. “Better than Batman?”

“Super much better.” Atlas exclaimed, his voice incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe Harry would even ask such a thing.

“Better than Iron Man?” Harry tried again, his tone teasing as he listed off another iconic hero.

His boy paused for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration as he thought it over. His little hand lifted to his chin in the same way Harry often did when he was deep in thought, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. After a moment, Atlas shook his head decisively. “M’yeah. Way cooler.”

Harry leaned back against the couch, folding his arms as he played along. “So, that’s it? Peter Parker’s just the best?”

“Yeah!” Atlas said excitedly, jumping off the couch and running around the living room, pretending to shoot webs from his wrists. “He’s fast ‘nd he can climb buildings like this!” He hopped up on the couch and began to scale the back of it with his small, wobbly legs, pretending he was on the side of a skyscraper.

Harry leaned forward, his hands hovering near Atlas to catch him in case he lost his balance. “Easy there, spidey,” he chuckled. “No need to break the couch, bub.”

Atlas giggled as he perched himself on the top of the couch, still caught up in his make-believe world. He turned to Harry, his eyes bright with excitement. “Daddy?” He paused, watching his father’s gaze resettle upon him. “y’think spideys stronger than you?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, smirking as he leaned back against the couch again. “Stronger than me, huh? That’s a tough one. I mean, I’ve got some pretty strong muscles too, you know.” He tried to persuade his son, flexing his bicep in front of him.

Atlas tilted his head, considering this for a moment before a mischievous grin spread across his face. “M’no cause he can do this!” He flung his wrist out, making a thwip! noise as he pretended to shoot webs across the room.

Harry’s grin widened as he watched his son in full superhero mode. “Alright, alright, you’ve got me there. I don’t have webs.”

“Duh!” The boy exclaimed again, leaping off the couch and landing with a soft thud on the carpet. He scrambled back up and raced over to Harry, his little hands grabbing at his dad’s arms as he looked up at him with pure adoration. “But y’cool too, dad.”

Harry laughed, his heart swelling at the sight of his son’s wide grin. “Oh, just cool am I? Not the coolest?”

Atlas giggled, shaking his head, jumping in place with his palms against his dad’s knees. “Nope, he–he still more better.”

YN had been listening from the kitchen as she prepared dinner, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the air. She leaned against the counter, smiling to herself as she heard the playful back-and-forth between her husband and their son. Harry always had such a way of connecting with Atlas—whether it was through silly games, bedtime stories, or, in this case, debates over superheroes.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and wandered into the living room, catching sight of Atlas now climbing into Harry’s lap. “What’s all this about Spider-Man?” she asked, crossing her arms with a mock-stern expression.

The curly haired boy whipped his head around, his face lighting up when he saw his mom. “Mama! We watched’ed pider-man!”

YN raised her eyebrows, glancing at Harry, who shrugged with an amused smile. “I see,” she said, nodding seriously. “And where does daddy rank on the superhero scale?”

Without missing a beat, Atlas giggled and pointed at Harry. “M’he not a superhero—he’s just daddy!”

Harry feigned offense, gasping dramatically as he clutched his chest. “Just dad? C’mon, mate, I’m way cooler than that.”

Atlas giggled even harder, clearly enjoying the game. “Y’climb on buildings?”

Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around Atlas and pulling him into a gentle bear hug. “Okay, I can’t climb buildings, but I bet Spider-Man can’t make pancakes as good as me.”

The boy paused, clearly torn by this new piece of information. He loved his dad’s pancakes, after all. But after a moment, he shook his head, his resolve firm. “Pider-man don’t eat pancakes.”

YN laughed as she sat down on the couch beside them, placing her hand on Harry’s knee. “He’s got you there, babe. You might have to accept second place.”

He sighed in mock defeat, his dimples deepening as he looked down at his boy, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, fine. he can be the coolest for now. But when you get hungry in the morning, don’t come crying to me for pancakes.”

“He make them for me!” Atlas shot back with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing his dad.

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Atlas’s curly head. “You think Parker knows how to make chocolate chip pancakes like I do? I doubt it.”

YN watched them with a soft smile, her heart swelling with affection. She loved these moments—the way Harry could be completely goofy and playful with their son, never taking himself too seriously, and the way Atlas adored his dad with a fierceness that made her heart melt. It was a kind of magic, watching the two of them together.

She ran a finger through Harry’s curls, pressing a kiss into the locks as she breathed him in. “I’m plating dinner.” She mumbled as she ambled back into the kitchen.

Harry grunted as he stood up, pulling his son up in his arms along with him. “To the table, web-slinger.” He told Atlas, swinging him in his arms with small little swooshing sounds.

Their boy giggled as Harry swooped him through the air like an airplane, his little arms stretched out as if he were flying. They made their way to the kitchen, where YN was setting plates of steaming food on the table.

"Hungry?” YN teased as Harry plopped Atlas into his booster seat.

He nodded enthusiastically. "I want 'tatoes!"

Harry chuckled, grabbing a spoon to serve Atlas a helping of mashed potatoes. "Here you go, bubba. But no webs at the dinner table, okay?"

He giggled, pretending to shoot webs one more time before focusing on his plate. Harry and YN exchanged a fond smile, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of dinner-plates clinking, forks scraping, and the occasional happy hum from Atlas as he devoured his meal.

After dinner, they settled into their nighttime routine-baths, pajamas, and a bedtime story.

Atlas, freshly bathed and smelling of lavender, jumped snuggled into his bed. It was navy blue with cartoonish planets littered about, but his favorite thing would have to be his rainbow zebra-print 1D blanket tucked around him. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar worn copy of Goodnight Moon in his hands.

"Goodnight room, goodnight moon," He read softly, his voice soothing. Atlas's eyelids grew heavy as he clutched his favorite stuffed animal, a plush giraffe.

YN stood in the doorway, watching her two boys with a soft smile. She loved these quiet moments, the way Harry's voice softened as he read to Atlas, the way their son's small body relaxed into sleep. "Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere."

As he closed the book, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Atlas's forehead. "Goodnight, spidey."

Atlas's lips curled into a sleepy smile, his voice a soft mumble as he drifted off. "G’night, daddy."

With that, Harry quietly stood and tiptoed out of the room, YN slipping her hand into his as they left their little guy to dream of webs and skyscrapers.

The door closed behind them with a soft click before he scooped his wife over his shoulder quietly, trudging toward their bedroom and throwing her onto the bed through her soft protests.

YN laughed as she landed on the bed, playfully swatting at Harry as he crawled over her. "You're ridiculous," she whispered, though her smile said she didn't mind one bit.

Her husband grinned, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of their bedroom. "Well, if I'm not the coolest in the house, l've got to show off my other skills, don't I?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling him down for a kiss. "You're still my favorite," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands resting on her hips as he whispered back, "Good, because I'm not giving up that spot anytime soon."

The house grew quiet, the hum of the evening settling in around them as they lay together.

Outside, the stars were beginning to twinkle in the night sky, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze was the only sound breaking the silence. Harry reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, wrapping his arms around YN as they snuggled into each other.

It was in those days that Harry realized—he didn't need to be the coolest superhero. Being Atlas's dad, YN's husband, and the maker of the best chocolate chip pancakes in the world was more than enough. It was everything.

[redr0sewrites]

Sub!Jayce x reader Hcs

incredibly influenced by this convo i had w ellie ( @bigfatbimbo ) urgrhgrhrhrhr hes soooo

🥀Cw: smut!!!, sub!jayce, dom!reader, humiliation, sub top, exhibitionism kink idk what its called

🥀minors dni

🥀Character(s): Jayce Talis x reader

this man is suuuuch a sub, but he wouldn't admit it, at least not until he meets you

jayce is a very confident person, and you'd assume that would carry over into the bedroom, but nooo. the first time you were both intimate he was so pathetically unsure of what to do that you just had to take control for him. he tried to act dominant and in-control, but the second he started thrusting into you he was a needy mess.

he was so confident leading up to it, but he just gets so flustered :(

jayce is so embarrassed about how submissive he is, and is probably a little shy at first. he definitely needs some coaxing to "get out of his shell" per se, and would probably muffle his moans and be a little awkward in general

this man is a WHINER i just know he's so loud in bed and he can not control it. his voice gets all hoarse and raspy from panting, and he has the neediest wanton moans, it genuinely sounds like he's in a porno because of how loud and lewd they are

his volume has probably led to you two almost being caught on multiple occasions, he genuinely has no control but gets SO embarrassed about the thought of getting caught. it turns him on a little, and the fact that it does only makes him more embarrassed

more than once he's fantasized about you fucking him in the council room, risking it all just for the thrill of possibly being discovered

jayce would be SO flustered if you teased him about it, if you began whispering in his ear about how you coincidentally forgot to lock the door to your room, and how just about anyone could just walk in? he's already whining, and he'll cum within seconds

"aw, how would the council feel if they saw you being fucked like this?imagine if they could all see you like this, all needy and pathetic for me," type of shit, he'd fold in seconds

jayce is definitely kinky too, but he takes his time discovering himself. he isn't super willing to try new things at first, however over time he becomes more and more confident in doing kinkier shit, especially with someone he trusts

guys. sounding with jayce. HEAR ME OUT. he'd be SO embarrassed, like he knows how anatomy works and all, but he never really thought of something like that, and he'd probably be cocky too, thinking that it wouldn't even feel that good. imagine using a vibrating sounding rod on him and double tapping him too, irgrhrrhrgrhrrh he'd be so needy and fucked dumb

he never tried anything with anal/pegging before you, but he can't deny that he isn't at least curious. he'd mention it offhandedly, hoping that you'd get the hint, but don't make it that easy for him. fluster him, make him say it aloud and admit that he wants you to fuck him like that, and then praise him for being so sweet about asking while fucking him absolutely senseless. whether you have a dick or a strap he doesn't care, jayce would love it regardless

this is kind of a random hc, but he probably masturbates a lot. i mean, it's natural, he's pretty stressed most of the time, and even when he's with you he has an insane libido and would probably still masturbate a lot. however, his favorite form of getting off? pillow humping. don't ask me how i know, i just do, because i'm right. imagine the mighty councilman talis, the man of progress himself, humping a pillow like a bitch in heat because he's too needy to wait. sometimes he'll imagine that it's you beneath him, and he'll moan your name as he cums, thinking you can't hear. this leads to you both discovering that this man has a major kink for dry humping, he loves either sitting in your lap or having you sit in his and just getting off fully clothed. i also think he'd enjoy lap dances too, and would ride your thigh too. i ALSO think jayce would enjoy it if you rode his thigh, i mean.... c'mon who wouldn't want to

ok but like... sub!top jayce. me thinks yes. making him top you as a punishment and forcing him to fuck you. you take care of him all the time, shouldn't he return the favor? jayce desperately wants you to take control, flip him over and fuck him senseless, but your silky words and sweet praises make him want to make you cum even more. he would definitely manage to make you cum, he knows what he's doing, but he's really whiny and needy about it and would need some reassurance

look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't like being manhandled a little. you can't because your wrong. he totally would. jayce is used to people giving him what he wants and he's absolutely the type to get off to being pushed around. he wouldn't mind being folded into deep sex positions or even being slapped a bit, as long as you praise him afterwards

PRAISE KINK!!! i do think he has a degrading kink too, but it's definitely mostly praise. he gets a bit insecure sometimes, and the only way to get out of his own head is to be fucked silly and senseless by you while you whisper the sweetest words in his ears. he wouldn't mind a healthy mix of degrading/objectifying and praise tho, if you called him your "pretty slut" he'd think it was hot but if you started genuinely degrading him he would probably cry and get really clingy afterwards

i think his biggest kinks would be PRAISE, oral fixation (absolutely will elaborate if asked. please ask.), hair pulling, DRY HUMPING, somnophilia/sleepy sex (again, ABSOLUTELY will elaborate), breeding kink (👀), and obviously exhibitionism. i also think he'd have a little bit of a hand kink/fetish but would not admit it. if he saw you wearing a lot of rings, or if you're hands just look really nice in general, he would get a little turned on but won't say why. he thinks your hands look really nice around his neck too... 😇

"fuck- hngh-" Jayce bit down hard on the back of hand, attempting to muffle his moans as you rub his cock. you were seated on his lap, your hand wrapped around his thick girth as you jerked him off. within the confines of your shared bedroom you could be as filthy as you liked, yet it seemed Jayce was still too shy to fully let out his moans yet.

"aw, poor baby," you croon, speeding up the pace ever so slightly and paying attention to the tip of his leaky cock. his dick twitches against your palm as your thrusts quicken, Jayce's hips jerking upwards in response to the stimulation.

"hic- plea- please," he gasps, his hand hovering over his mouth as he throws his head back. "well, since you asked so nicely~" you tease, slowing down to painfully slow thrusts. Jayce lets out a sob, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes with each of your ministrations. he had lost count of the times you had teased him to near-release, only to ruin his orgasm at the last second. his abs clench with each stroke of his cock, and you can tell your pretty boy's patience is wearing thin. he really was too cute!

"Jayce," you murmur, speeding up again to catch his attention. his glossy, fucked out gaze meets yours, and you begin to jerk him off faster. with a gasp, his hand flies to your wrist, whether to push you away or to hold you there you were unsure. "s'too much!" he babbles, a few tears streaming down his cheeks as the coil in his abdomen tightens.

"aw, don't you want to be good f'me? you can take it, can't you?" Jayce nods, his dick twitching eagerly witth each thrust against your palm. you can tell he's close, and you decide to reward him. "can i- can i please-"

"you can cum, Jayce." with your reassurance, Jayce throws his head back, not even bothering to smother his moans as he cums so hard he swears he sees stars. his thighs shake as he coats himself in his own cum. as he comes down from his high, you gently massage his shoulders, tethering him back to reality as he steadies his breathing.

"you still with me, Counselor Talis?" Jayce grumbles, pulling you in close. "don't call me that. to you, 'm Jayce. nothing to else." you giggle, melting into his embrace. "lets get you cleaned up, hm?" you ask, and he nods, wordlessly following you like a lost puppy towards your shared bathroom. you both know damn well that this is probably going to lead to another round of steamy shower sex, yet he follows you in with the smallest smirk on his lips. what a man.

i will always be the number one jayce defender i do not CAREEEEE he's trying his best. i know nothing about leavue of legends lore and im basing this solely off of arcane, but i genuinely sympathize w him and idk why people hate him sm

[ramthews-moved]

I cant find the post but I’m constantly thinking about that cat in the hat movie clip where he’s like this is thing two but he also goes by x y z you know. I Connect with it on a spiritual level

[freaksun]

Hi if you are taking requests I’m in a super soft mood.

Would you do something with Eddie not being used to affection? Super touch starved. And when he and reader start dating he is tense when you first show that your love language is physical touch? And slowly. Not to scare him you try to show and convince him he deserves nothing but kindness and loving touches?

hi honey!! always taking requests, i just take forever to answer them haha :)

your boyfriend, eddie munson, had a hard childhood - that was clear.

for one, he grew up with his uncle wayne instead of two parents. you’ve met mr munson, and he’s a truly sweet man, but you’re pretty sure he didn’t plan on raising a child.

he told you his mom died and his dad is gone but not much else and you don’t want to pry. you figure he’ll tell you on his own time and that’s good enough for you. mostly, you just want him to know he’s safe with you.

the only part that bothers you is that his past trauma has convinced him he isn’t worthy of soft touches and patience and your everlasting devotion. you have to fix this, you decide.

you noticed pretty early into the relationship that he’s timid around physical intimacy - not necessarily sex, more the sweet and loving caresses you offer him daily - since every time you mold yourself to his back in bed he suddenly has to ‘get to work’.

at first it really hurt your feelings. he could have sex with you (with minimal nervousness) but he couldn’t cuddle you??

but then the heartbreaking realization set in that he just cant let you show that you love him. cant let you be tender with the parts of him you know have been crushed by people meant to protect him.

so, you start small.

eddie gets all worked up sometimes talking about things he loves, so you wait for him to get all excited and distracted and then you start gently twirling his hair between your fingers while he goes on and on.

eventually it evolves to you running your hands through his hair, lightly massaging his head while he unknowingly unravels in front of you. you rake your nails over his scalp, scratching his stress away.

you can tell how much he appreciates such a small gesture by the way he sinks into your touch, a warm smile on his sleepy face.

he starts to expect it, much to your delight. whenever he realizes he’s getting super into a discussion he cozies up to you, laying his head in your lap usually by slumping onto you and forcing you to lay down so you can be his teddy bear.

you’re extremely proud of this progress, even moreso when he sleepily turns one evening, smushing his face against your thigh and sighing contently. you don’t stop petting his hair until you feel his breathing slow against the inside of your leg.

you figure it was a combination of you talking instead of him, and the long awful day he apparently had at work. either way, you thank the stars and make sure not to wake him. it grows your ego substantially knowing your voice guided him to a peaceful sleep.

the next morning you wake up with him still wrapped around your waist, cheek smushed into your tummy. you’re both still in your clothes, eddie in his dirty work overalls cause he couldn’t wait to cuddle you, and neither of you expected him to fall asleep. you pet his head softly - its practically instinctive whenever you see him, especially snoring softly like this

he stirs when you rake your nails across his back gently, drawing swirls and patterns on him while he’s still too sleepy to protest. his eyes meet yours, his hair adorably disheveled. he looks incredibly disoriented and confused and all you can do is smile at your puppy of a boyfriend.

“..did we fall asleep like this?” his voice comes out all gravelly how you love, its always like that in the morning, you’ve come to find out.

“yes” you giggile, fixing a stray curl. “you fell asleep like this, honey.”

he blushes and gets nervous as usual, you’re familiar with his patterns, but he doesn’t move - not yet.

you take advantage of that fact, lifting his chin so he’s forced to look at you again. this time when you look into his wide eyes, you sense guilt.

“eddie, i liked it.” you smile, moving to rub his cheek, your thumb swiping gently just below his eye. “is there some reason you think i wouldn’t? o-or did you not like it?” he panics when your smile falters, lips twitching in hesitation.

“No!” he yelps a little too loud, awkward in that sitcom way he’s always been. charming, you think.

“O-of course i liked it, baby..” his eyes flick between obeying and keeping eye contact and staring down to avoid you.

“you’re so warm.. ‘n soft..” his eyes meet yours again and theres a sincerety and vulnerability you’ve never seen. close, maybe, but this is new.

“yeah?” you coo, coaxing him further into this soft space you’ve unlocked for him.

he nods, a coy smile forming. “I like touching you, y/n. i-i always want to i-im just..” you rub his cheek. “cautious. i guess. ‘m scared.” he looks up at you again, wide eyes beaming in a way that makes you think his pupils are just holes peering into the sparkling of his heart. its clear he’s opening himself to you in a way no one’s seen before. maybe other than his mom. its an honour you refuse to waste.

“what are you scared of ed?” not once do you stop softly petting him , his cheeks, his hair, his neck, a thumb across his lip.

“I just.. i dunno. you’re so soft, so sweet and kind and i-“ he falters, and you immediately hug him to you, rubbing his back. “its ok, honey. take your time, im here.” he sighs, his hands grasping you for comfort.

“i dont wanna break you. or lose you..” he admits, maybe for the first time to himself at all. your heart breaks. obviously you could assume with what you know about his past but the details and results never stop hurting. you wish you could’ve saved him, could’ve saved his mother and given him a better father. or just taken him far, far away.

now, all you can do is hold him. one hand in his hair, one rubbing his back and you kiss the top of his head.

“im not going anywhere.” you promise, your lips still pressed in his hair.

“gonna stay and cuddle you forever, teddy” your hand sneaks under his shirt and rubs his back, up and down the soft skin. its vulnerable in a literal and figurative way you cant fully process in the moment but later you’ll cry over how poetic and sentimental it is.

you feel him sink into you, letting his weight crush you a little. his voice rumbles where hes hiding his face, a small “promise?” muffled by your chest.

you frown, wishing he never had to feel this way.

“I promise, eddie. m’yours” you can feel him smile, giddy and childish in this state.

“and you’re mine” you giggle as he rubs his face into you like a cat displaying affection.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. Completed.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Warnings: 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here.

"*" indicates explicit sexual content (each chapter will feature its own warnings as needed), language, alcohol/drug use, drunk!Bucky, drunk!/high!Reader, pick-me!oc, angst, mentions of CSA, angst, emotional affair, angst, physical infidelity (dependent on your pov), canon-level violence, emotional trauma, did I mention angst?, some fluffy moments, destructive behavior, injury, medical conditions, poorly translated Russian, unprotected anonymous sex, murder, minor oc character death, mentions of SA and torture, underage drug use, mentions of sex trafficking, mention of child injury.

More will be added as the story progresses, and some chapters will have specific warnings that I will keep under wraps to avoid spoilers. When we get to those sections, I will let you know, so if there is a specific trigger that you absolutely cannot handle, let me know and I will tell you if the section is safe. As always, please let me know if I miss any warnings.

Word Count: 155.2k

A/N: And here I present unto you, my beloved, the fruit of my labors these many past moons. Seven months in the making. My magnum opus.

Tumblr says this post has too many links, so for Chapters 27, 28, 29, and 30 (the epilogue), please use the navigation links in the first part of each chapter.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

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Part 1 (Posted 4/27/24) Part 2* (Posted 4/27/24)

[liv2post]

Hello!!! I have another request if you have time, but I was wondering if you could do something with Severus and reader where they're super close and in love with each other but they're the only ones who can't see it 😭

Hi! I hope this is to your liking! I've never really written an oblivious pairing before, so I hope this works with your request '3'

Word Count: ~1.4k Pairing: Severus Snape/Professor!Reader Read on ao3!

Baffled

It was appalling how long you and Severus had managed to thwart her, Filius, and Dumbledore’s bet. Minerva sat in the staff lounge, grumbling at the seeming lack of progress. They had made the bet nearly a year ago and it didn’t seem like it would ever officially meet its crescendo. The bet was about you and a certain Potion’s professor. She had seen the way the two of you had looked at one another when you both met for the first time, the way intrigue shined in both of your eyes despite initially remaining to yourselves. Filius had to practically orchestrate your first interaction, “accidentally” requesting both of your help to control a room whose furniture had “mysteriously come to life” and couldn’t be controlled with just the wizard’s magic alone.

Since then, your interactions have blossomed from collegial to friendly to…whatever the hell was going on between you.

Love.

Or at least that’s what the Transfiguration teacher could hope for. It was an understatement to say that the two of you were arguably closer to one another than anyone else. However, the way you were closer to Severus made her think that it was love more than it was friendship.

Severus didn’t let anyone touch him. Anyone. The man could barely stand casual touch; a hand on the shoulder, a nudge with the elbow, and yet, the liberty had been granted to you. And the man didn’t shy away from it either. But it went beyond such little touches unbeknownst to Minerva. There had been a few instances where you had given him scalp massages. Imagine, the Potion’s master let someone touch his hair.

Outside of touches, the two of you could also be seen at each other’s side; sitting at meals, walking through Hogsmeade, the castle corridors, and lounging in the staff room. Just talking. Or reading in silence. And when the two of you talked, he would smile.

He would smile for Merlin’s sake!

And then there was that one time when she had walked down to the Potion’s classroom in need of a sleeping draught from Severus. 

She had pushed open the door only to be met with the sight of you and Severus hovering over a boiling cauldron, the both of you shifting your weight unsteadily and gripping the edge of the table, both smelling of firewhiskey.

“Are you two quite well?” she questioned urgently. 

Severus and had pressed his lips together, while you had burst into a fit of snorting giggles. “Mhm! Yep, we're alllllll good heeeeere,” you smiled, stumbling back onto a stool and patting your legs happily. “We maybe had a bit to drink.”

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Severus. “Really, drinking and brewing?”

“I’m no less smart drunk than I am sober, Minerva. I have all my facilities, though I can’t say the same for Y/N,” he sneered teasingly at you. 

You blew a raspberry at him, prompting him to grab the nearby potions textbook and bopping you on the head. In response, you had made an attempt to shove him, but the force of the push moved you back on the stool rather than having an impact on the man. The stool began to fall backward and as you tried to steady yourself, Severus shot a hand out and grabbed your arm, tugging you back to him and holding you against his side. 

“Quit messing around, you insufferable girl.”

She was baffled to no end.

“Ravenclaw.”

“Slytherin.”

“Ravenclaw.” 

“Slytherin.”

Both of your bickering interrupted Minerva’s reminiscing as the door to the teachers’ lounge opened. 

“What are you arguing about now?” she quipped.

“We’re debating on what house me and Severus’s hypothetical child would be.”

Filius, who had been drinking tea on the chair opposite of Minerva began to choke as Minerva herself stumbled over her words in nonpluss. “Wh- I beg your pardon?!”

“Hypothetical child, Minerva,” Severus emphasized with a roll of his eyes, following you to the cabinet to grab his preferred flavored tea. Filius and Minerva met each other’s gaze, both thinking the same thing: Are these two really that oblivious?

Finally, the annual Yule Ball had come and Dumbledore decided to take matters into his own hands. The conniving man had arranged for both of you to have chaperoning duties at the same time. In accordance with the rules, both of you had dressed up in formal attire, but neither of you had any intention of actually dancing with the other, especially in front of the students. 

No matter how much the both of you had wanted. 

“But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?” you thought to yourself, inches from your partner in crime, who kept his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the students on the dance floor. He was your best friend. He probably didn’t see you as anything else. Surely if he did, he’d have made a move or dropped hints, right?

Severus was enduring the same turmoil, resisting the urge to place a hand on your waist and guide you to somewhere more private. You looked exceptionally beautiful, more beautiful than you did every day you saw each other. You were his closest friend and he didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that he was wrong. He thought he had given you enough indication about his feelings towards you, though they were rather indirect. Or maybe you just didn’t see him that way, and therefore didn’t consider them to be hints…

“Severus. Y/N,” the Headmaster greeted. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I believe I saw some students taking to carousing in the courtyard. Could you two handle that? I can watch those dancing in your place.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” Severus nodded and you followed after the professor in black who swept out the Great Hall.

But there were no students out there. It was an outright lie. He just wanted to get the two of you alone without any students’ eyes on you. The man counted down from two minutes in his head before quietly slipping out of the Great Hall himself. He paused outside of the doorway to the courtyard, casually peering out toward the stone fountain. The two of you were talking, the quietude of your conversation deaf on his ears as he watched the both of you trying to calm your nerves, Severus gripping his wrist hard behind his back, you playing with your fingers in front of your stomach.

But both your thoughts were loud, and Dumbledore could hear you and Severus cursing the headmaster for setting up a situation where the both of you were alone, bathed in moonlight with music drifting out through the windows of the Great Hall, neither of you wanting to take the plunge. 

“Ask her to dance, Severus,” Dumbledore mentally sent to Severus.

Severus stiffened, refusing to whip his head toward the doorway of the courtyard.

“Go. Away,” Severus thought back harshly.

“I will when you ask her to dance. She obviously wants to.”

Dumbledore felt Severus block their mental connection as a few seconds later the Potions professor slowly brought his hands down to his side, one curling nervously into a fist, the other he offered hesitantly to you, mouthing something at the same time. Dumbledore watched as a soft smile grew on your lips and you nodded fervently.

Dumbledore stepped back out of sight, smiling to himself in satisfaction as he went to converse with a nearby painting as he waited. Some minutes passed before the two of you reentered the castle, your lipstick lightly stamped on one of Severus’s cheeks and slightly smeared on his own mouth.

“Well, it’s about time,” Dumbledore remarked, not just referring to the amount of time you both spent outside. 

The both of you blushed the same shade of your lipstick. “Shut up,” you both muttered, as Severus grabbed your hand and tugged you close to him, the both of you sweeping away to the dungeons. Dumbledore just chuckled, turning on his heel and returning to his colleagues in the Great Hall. 

He had winnings to collect. 

[reidmoony-toast]

could you maybe do like a one shot of Spencer x Supermodel!fem reader? Like she does runways for super popular brands like Versace and Victoria’s Secret?

Radiant. ౨ৎ

Spencer reid x fem supermodel!reader

content: established relationship, no use of y/n, spencer being down bad tbh, fluff

cw: Victoria's Secret show, so underwear yk (but no sexualising or anything)

wc: 2.3k

an: This is so exciting, hi first anon req!! I love you so much! Anyways this idea is amazing and I hope this is what you envisioned <3 This isn't my best work, but I tried 😭 Also I based the outfit off Karolina Kurkova's in a 2003 show, but its set in early season 7 soo forget that!

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

“Is that her?” Penelope whispers for the hundredth time.

“No.” He huffs, tired of answering the same question for the past ten minutes.

“Patience, babygirl.” Derek chuckles from Spencer's other side. “He'll tell us when she's here. Maybe not with his words, but definitely with his eyes.” Derek flutters his lashes in Spencer's direction, clearly making fun of him.

“Both of you leave me alone, please?” He pleads, sick of their antics. They haven't stopped talking, and it's putting him on edge. He wants to appreciate today. Appreciate you. 

You had been desperately hoping to get this job with Victoria's Secret for months, and you were ecstatic when news of your hire reached you through your manager. You'd been raving excitedly about it ever since, and had begged him to finally come to a show.

He obliged, of course. Partly, because he can't say no to you, and mostly because he has been eager to see you in your element ever since you two had started dating.

Now, he is buzzing in anticipation, which is definitely not helped by Morgan and Garcia's constant remarks.

It wouldn't have been his personal preference to invite them, but you'd insisted, saying it was about time you met Spencer's friends, anyways. 

The show continues, scantily clad girls strutting down the catwalk, angel wings attached to their backs and sequins blinding, but still, you were nowhere to be seen. Spencer fidgets, waiting with baited breath. 

A figure emerges from the side of the stage, turning to strut down the walkway. He freezes, shooting up in his chair from where he was previously slumped. It was you. Undeniably. He could pick you in a sea of people from a mile off, if it came to it. 

His breath hitches. He takes you in. 

There you stand, in all of your glory. He can't quite believe what he’s seeing. Sure, you're self-assured in your everyday life, but this is on a whole new level.

You radiate confidence, striding down the catwalk like you own it. Spencer is utterly captivated by this different side of you that he has never seen in person before.

Sure, he's seen endless pictures—and even some videos—of your modelling, as well as the shows that take place in the comfort of your home; when you put on outfits and strut down the long hallway of your apartment, to loud enthusiasm from Spencer.

These particular one-on-one shows usually end in you dressing in progressively more atrocious outfits, until you’re both prone from uncontrollable laughter.

But this. This was real. It all hits him then—that you are a supermodel, that you do this for a living. That this is your life. 

His chest swells with immense pride at all you have accomplished. You've worked so hard, built your career from the ground up, and it has paid off. Your dreams have finally come true, and now, you're modelling in a Victoria's Secret show, which he is told (by you, of course) is world-renowned. 

“That's her.” Derek concludes smugly, no uncertainty in his tone. Spencer shushes him loudly, eyes fixed solely on you.

You don't falter for a single step as you glide down the stage. You're clad in a sparkly silver bra that glints off the bright lights, sequined mesh sitting below the bra's edge. 

A small pair of matching silver underwear sit below your hips, a glittering garter to match. And, of course, the wings. They protrude from your back, spanning above your head, magnificent and ethereal. Spencer thinks you ought to have a halo to match. 

The feathered angel wings trail down your back, sweeping across the floor behind you as you make your way to the end of the catwalk. 

Garcia and Morgan are saying something across him—most likely about you—but he pays them no mind, not caring for anything else but you, in front of him.

As you near the end of the perilously long stage, Spencer's smile only grows, until he is beaming uncontrollably when you slow to strike your pose. 

Spencer and his company have VIP tickets, courtesy of you, so he has an unobstructed view of you, directly in front of where he is sitting. 

Your hands rest on your hips as you lock eyes with the sea of cameras frantically snapping pictures. 

You look fierce, fiery, and Spencer somehow grins harder. 

As your eyes scan the room, they easily lock on Spencer's, not even ten feet away. His eyes are wide, smile larger than life. 

His lips move, mouthing words to you that you instantly understand, and you light up, a warm glow from within. 

‘I love you’

The luminous smile remains, even when you remember your surroundings. You pose again, grinning all the while and the crowd claps while shutters click incessantly. You pivot, sashaying off, but not before looking back over your shoulder to blow a cheeky kiss in Spencer's direction, winking.

It might just be Spencer's perception, but you seem to shimmer with incandescent light, like your very soul was set aflame with a soft fire. You are radiantly gorgeous—utterly perfect in the eyes of Spencer Reid.

The wink you sent over your shoulder makes him duck his head, face and ears bright red. He is the luckiest man in the world. To have you, all to himself. 

He is still grinning, even as you disappear around the corner. Maybe he is biassed (most certainly), but you were by far the most captivating model up there. Your every move seemed effortless—practised and perfected. 

You drew the attention of everyone, and you kept it. It felt as if the whole room had held its breath as you passed, too busy watching to remember how to breathe. 

Maybe that was just his singular experience. He wouldn't know, and he doesn't particularly care. 

As the show wraps up, Garcia and Morgan are raving—about you. 

“Spencer, I can't believe she is your girlfriend! She is absolutely stunning!” Penny gushes.

The first statement hurts him a little, like everyone thinks he can't possibly be dating a pretty model—but it's definitely true. The second statement, however, is the truest thing he's ever heard in his 29 years of life. 

Spencer chooses not to respond to Penelope, instead heading for the exit. They follow, and Morgan claps him on the back. “You're one lucky man, pretty boy.” He whistles suggestively, and Spencer brushes off his hand, mumbling something under his breath as he is suddenly interested in the craftsmanship of the venue floor. 

He found this hard. Blending his work and home life, introducing you to his family. It's not that he's worried they won't like you—that’s impossible, when it comes to you—it's more that he has trouble combining the two sides of his life in his head, given the fact that he is almost two different people in each. 

He doesn't bring his work home, and he doesn't bring his home to work—mostly. He does, sometimes (too often), ramble on about you and how downright amazing you are. He's only human, after all. 

Mostly, he's scared that it will be a mistake, that the two sides will end up being better off separate, that mixing the two now will have irreparable consequences. 

But, you wanted to, so he’s taking the plunge. For you. Always for you. 

~☆~

Spencer feels like he shouldn't be here. They're in the very depths of the building; models, designers and beauticians alike flit past them, paying them no mind as they go about their business.

He glances over his shoulder at the ajar door that leads to the dressing rooms every couple of seconds, in case you come through and save him from this place—which is the polar opposite to everything that makes him comfortable.

He's here for you, though, and he would endure this for you. Only for you. 

Morgan and Penelope stand a few feet away, at ease and chatting like this is the most normal situation in the world, like they've been backstage at thousands of Victoria's Secret shows.

Just as he's about to go into a nervous breakdown, he sees a flash of movement appear from behind the door. 

“Spence!” A shriek sounds as he turns to see you, bounding towards him. You throw your arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek.

His hands come up to steady you, curling under the hem of your sweater. He feels instantly less overwhelmed, breathing you in like you're the oxygen he needs to live—like he can’t breathe properly when you’re not near.

You're draped in an oversized knit and comfortable track pants that engulf your frame. The irony wasn't lost on him—you were wearing nothing but showy undergarments not even half an hour ago. 

He loves that about you. That you aren't entirely defined by your job, that you have a part of your life and sense of self cordoned off; a part that isn't affected by the insane world of modelling. He loves that you can be yourself in so many different ways, that you have all these different facets. Just like a diamond, whose sides are all different, but every single one shines just as brightly all the same.

It inspires him to do the same for himself, to have a true self outside of his chaotic job that takes over most of his life. You’ve helped him see that life can be varied, diverse; that there are so many different things—other than one's job—that can make you feel fulfilled. Content. Happy. 

He's happy; truely and vibrantly happy with you. And that is the way he wishes it to stay. 

He chuckles amusedly at your strong display of affection. “Hello to you too, lovely.” 

You pull back to grin at him, albeit a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I'm just so happy you're actually here.” 

His gaze softens impossibly more. “It was long overdue.” He cups your cheeks and leans down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “You were phenomenal.” 

You beam, and draw him closer.

The clearing of a throat brings you out of your reverie, out of the world where there is only the two of you. 

You pull away, detaching yourself from Spencer, eyes flashing with delight. “Hi!” You wave at a shocked-yet-amused Derek Morgan, and an exuberant Penelope Garcia. 

Derek raises his eyebrow at Spencer, probably surprised by how little he cared about your public display of affection. He usually doesn’t even let Garcia hug him unless it’s important. But, like with everything else, you’re different—special. He simply shrugs back. 

“You must be the friends Spence has told me so much about.” She reaches out a hand to shake Morgan's hand. “Derek, right?” 

Derek smirks, “In the flesh.” He grasps your hand, grip firm. “The show was amazing, by the way.” 

“Thank you!” You chirp, brightening further, and Morgan huffs out a laugh.

You pull away, turning to the eclectic women next to him. “And you, must be the famous Penelope.” 

You reach out your hand once more, but Garcia has other ideas. She dives in for a hug, bypassing the formalities immediately.

She pulls away abruptly as you squeak in surprise. “Oh- sorry! I'm sorry.” She blurts out. “I'm just so happy to meet you, finally! Reid has told us so much about you, I just couldn't wait any longer!” She grins broadly. “And you're even prettier than he described, which I don't understand how that's humanly possible, because boy genius over there won't stop talking about how gorgeous you-”

“Woah there, baby girl, slow your roll.” Derek interrupts, patting Garcia gently on the shoulder. You stifle a laugh, glancing at Spencer. He ducks his head, avoiding your eye and shuffling from one foot to another as his face turns pink.

“Sorry!” Penelope flushes scarlet red. “Uhm… what I meant was ‘nice to meet you’.” She cringes at her outburst. 

“No need to say sorry. It's an absolute pleasure to meet the both of you, Spence speaks so highly of you two.” You beam, and Garcia deflates in relief. Spencer’s arm snakes around your waist and under the hem of your sweater once again, smoothing patterns on your bare skin. You lean into his side, a contented sigh escaping your lips. 

“You know, when boy genius here told me he was dating a supermodel, I didn't believe him.” He raises eyebrows, smirking. “But, here you are.” 

“In the flesh.” You flash him a grin, parroting back his own words. He lets out a chuckle. 

“Why is it so unbelievable?” Spencer complains incredulously.

They all laugh at his words, and he hangs his head, sighing dejectedly. You pat him on the chest in consolation.

All of Spencer’s fears are quickly doused as a lively conversation starts up between you and his friends. He doesn’t know why he worried, like if they met everyone would self-combust. No, this was going fine. More than fine, even. 

His breathing slows, sure and steady, and he just watches. Watches you speak animatedly, with a delighted glint in your eye, clearly enjoying Penelope and Derek’s presence. And his friends, his family, seemed to be enjoying her just as much, which he obviously isn’t surprised about, but still fills him with relief. It was okay. It was all going to be perfectly okay.

“How does some dinner sound?” You ask the group, just as Spencer tunes back in.

Penelope claps her hands together, “Yes! I have the perfect place.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Derek replies. “If lover boy is coming, of course. I can't wait to tell lover girl, here, all the embarrassing stories at his expense.” 

Spencer groans, but follows Garcia as she heads towards the door. You just laugh. 

Spencer pinches your side from where you're still tucked under his arm and you yelp. This time, he's the one letting out a quiet chuckle, and you roll your eyes. 

“Come on genius, lead the way.” You look up expectedly from under his arm.

“Anything for you.” He simply replies, wrapping himself around you tighter, before guiding the both of you towards the door.

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