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literaila · 4 years

Text

hand me the heartbreak

spencer reid x reader

request: Would it be okay to request a fic where y/n works in the bau with spencer and is in love him but he's in love with maeve. Then when maeve gets kidnapped so is y/n by their greatest enemy or person who scares them and spencer and the team have to choose who to prioritize. Please make it angsty af but the ending is up to you

warnings: mentions of suicide, mentions of blood, panic attacks, mentions of drugs, shitty shitty writing, death obviously and angst.

There was a spark to Spencer's eyes.

A distinct spark.

He was smiling more often, he was more distracted, and every time the phone rang he jumped up in surprise and his eyes darted toward it.

Y/N had noticed.

She saw the far off look on his face when he didn't have anything to do, she saw how quickly he packed up his things when it was time to leave instead of staying late, she saw him checking his watch more and more and she’d noticed his more persistent declines when the team tried to invite him out.

She’d noticed the way he had been declining her calls more often, the way he wasn't constantly coming up with new things to say when they were talking about something. The way his information got shorter and shorter.

She’d noticed it all.

She didn't understand what was going on, she wondered if this was what he acted like when he was still dealing with his addiction when he was still doing drugs and the rest of the team had pretended like everything was fine. She hadn't been there the first time. She wondered if she was going to be there for the second.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, god she did, she trusted him with her life. But she knew how cruel addiction was, and she’d seen family members struggle with it her whole life, she’d noticed the distant way they all had of acting. Y/N trusted Spencer and she would never want him to believe she didn't, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if these signs, these little things she’d noticed, she wasn't sure if they were his addiction signs. And she wasn't sure whether she should talk to him about it or not.

She wouldn't blame him, wouldn't think of him any less, she wouldn't even blink an eye if she was right, but she didn't want him to feel like no one noticed- once again -like no one cared enough to notice.

She didn't want to notice and then not do anything about it. She didn't want it to be happening at all, but if it was she wanted to be there for him. Be there for him like he was there for her.

She wasn't sure what to do.

She was used to watching him, used to memorizing every step he took, used to taking in his little quirks, all the things that made Spencer… Spencer.

She wasn't used to him being so distracted.

She wasn't used to the spark in his eyes.

And so she had to go to someone, she couldn't just ignore the changes in him, so she went to his best friend.

She went to JJ.

“Is there something going on with Spencer?” she’d asked in the car, they were heading over to a victim's house, going to look at how the victim lived. It was right after she’d noticed Spencer fidgeting with something in his pocket, right after he looked far more nervous and fidgety than he ever did.

“What?” JJ asked, giving her a side glance than looking back to the road.

“Haven't you noticed the strange way he's been acting recently?” Y/N said, completely serious now.

JJ paused and thought for a moment, Y/N was turned in the passenger seat facing her, waiting for her reaction.

“Well, yeah, a little.”

Y/N felt her body relax. She hadn't been going crazy.

“Really? So what do you think is wrong, I- I hate to ask this but do you think… do you think maybe he relapsed?” She stumbled over her words, getting quieter and quieter with each letter that left her mouth.

“No,” JJ said softly. If Y/N hadn't been so lost in her thoughts of Spencer, she would’ve noticed the slight smirk on JJ’s face, she would have seen the humor in her eyes, she would have seen the secret JJ had been keeping from her.

“You don't think so?”

“He's acting a lot different than he did. More…” JJ paused and Y/N could feel the anxiety crawling up her stomach.

“More what?” she asked insistently.

“Well, Derek thinks that…” JJ smiled and paused again, teasing Y/N’s curiosity.

“JJ? What?”

“He thinks that Spence has a girlfriend.”

And there was a moment, a flicker of a moment, that was silent, a moment where Y/N wasn't thinking, breathing wasn't alive. There was a moment of complete utter silence.

It was a moment too long.

She felt JJ look over her, she could feel JJ’s curiosity at her silence, could feel the questions she wanted to ask pounding at her head.

She didn't want to tell her, she didn't want to tell anyone, she didn't even think it was true, didn't even know what she would do if it was.

She wasn't going to tell anyone.

“That's good,” she said quietly, her voice quivering over the words, her mind shaking with complete disappointment.

She ignored the way JJ kept looking over at her.

She ignored the way her heart had fallen into her stomach, being burned alive by acid.

***

Love.

Lovestruck.

That's what Spencer was.

The entire time, he’d been distracted because of a girl, he’d been spending time with his girlfriend, he’d been thinking about his girlfriend, he’d been loving her, and imagining her, and treating her, and taking care of his girlfriend.

The spark in his eyes was love.

He’d been loving his girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

He had a girlfriend.

Y/N was still trying to process it.

She was still trying to categorize his feelings in her head, trying to remember that every time he looked off, every time he was distracted, he was thinking of his girlfriend. He had a girlfriend and there wasn't anything wrong, he was in love he was in love.

There was nothing wrong with love.

At first, she’d been hesitant to believe it. She knew how much Derek teased Spencer, she knew the jokes they liked to play with each other, it wouldn't be a surprise if Derek had just been making something up, had just been wishing it was true.

So JJ telling her didn't make it true. She didn't actually know he had a girlfriend. At that point, it was just a rumor, it was just a rumor she’d heard and she didn't believe rumors, she didn't spend her days thinking about rumors.

It wasn't until,

Y/N was resting her head on Spencer's shoulder, he was flipping through a book while she sat there staring at his hands, watching him flip the pages. This was a normal activity for the two, they spent most plane rides home sitting together and relaxing, keeping their minds off of the horrors they saw every day at work.

She was breathing in and out on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body, enjoying the pillow under her cheek. She felt so at peace, so in tune with everything, so perfect for that moment.

And then she remembered.

She had to ask Spencer about it, she had to know if she was believing something that wasn't even true, she had to know if she had to keep worrying about it, if she had to stop cuddling with him on plane rides home, if she had to back off because he was in love.

She had to know if he was happy.

She had to know if he loved her.

“Spence?” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. The rest of the team was asleep on the plane, exhausted from the case, but even with them asleep Y/N wasn't going to risk any of them hearing.

“Yes?” he said, moving his eyes from the book in front of him to Y/N’s hands fidgeting in her lap. He smiled at her and then moved his head to rest it on hers, as a sign he was listening.

Y/N wasn't sure how to start, wasn't sure how to tell him what everyone else thought they knew. She wasn't even sure if he knew Derek was sharing his secrets.

She had no idea what to say.

“I- um I have to ask you something.”

She was playing with the rings on her fingers, listening to Spencer breathe in and out, feeling the nerves in her chest and throat, telling her to stop talking.

She had to ask.

“Okay,” he said. Spencer was used to people asking him things, was used to being the person with all the answers.

A slight pause in the conversation, a slight silence where both of them were just breathing, a moment for Y/N to tell her nerves to shut up.

“Derek said… You have a girlfriend?”

Spencer's shoulder tensed underneath her head, she felt his jaw get tense. She hoped he wasn't angry.

“It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I understand I mean- I was just wondering and I-”

“Y/N.”

She stopped and moved her head from his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You know how sometimes you have to ask me to stop rambling?” She nodded her head shyly “Well now it's my turn.”

Y/N turned away. Her nerves were back at full force, now even louder, telling her that what she said was stupid that what she thought was ridiculous that what-

“It's true.”

She looked up at him. His face was ablaze, his smirk was shy, and his eyes were lovestruck.

His eyes were lovestruck. He looked happy and excited and nervous and perfect and beautiful and he looked he looked he looked

In love.

His eyes were lovestruck.

There was a spark.

He had admitted it, he had confirmed the rumor, he had a girlfriend and it was true and everything she’d been thinking about was true, and he had a girlfriend, and Derek wasn't just kidding, he wasn't just teasing this time, and he had a girlfriend, and everything was fine, everything was perfect for Spencer he just had a girlfriend.

He really had a girlfriend.

Y/N didn't want to say anything, she didn't want to think even a word, she didn't want to even have a brain anymore, she didn't want to talk and she didn't want to think and she didn't want to be there, for the first time she didn't want to be with him she didn't think she could be sitting next to him anymore.

Her mouth betrayed her.

“Really?” she asked, and she wanted to slap a hand over her mouth, she wanted to tear her voice out and never speak to Spencer again.

How could she say that?

She hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

But when she looked up at him he was looking down at the floor and he was smiling, he was smiling down and she could see his dimples and his eyes were crinkled.

She’d never seen him smile like that before.

“Well, not really. She's not really my girlfriend.” and even with words that could’ve repaired Y/N’s heart, even with words that should’ve broken Spencers, he was still smiling, he was still smiling at the floor.

She didn't want to think anymore.

She couldn't stop herself from asking, “do you want her to be?”

And Spencer smiled more, he was smirking, and he looked like he was dreaming, and he looked up at her, his eyes much more expressive, much more different than Y/N had ever seen them before.

“Yeah,” he said.

Yeah, yes, yep, he did, he wanted her to be his girlfriend, he looked in love, he looked like a completely different person.

He looked so happy.

“What's her name?” Y/N asked, and she tried to ignore the bile in her throat that replaced the words, she tried to ignore the growing feeling in her chest that had been there all week, and she tried to ignore the smile on his face and tried to not think about that smile.

She listened.

She pretended to listen.

She pretended she still wanted to think, she still wanted to feel, she still wanted to breathe.

Maeve.

He looked so happy.

***

“She wants to meet.”

“Wait. You guys haven't ever met?”

Y/N listened quietly, confused, dreading Spencer's answer.

She assumed he shook his head because it was silent before Blake spoke again

“Aren't you curious what she looks like?”

Wasn't he? He was in love with her, and he’d never met her? He’d never seen her? Never touched her?

“I don't, it doesn't matter what she looks like, I mean, she's already the most beautiful girl in the world to me “

And Y/N stopped listening.

She shut her mind off, erased her presence, got rid of the aching in her heart, and went to go talk to someone else.

Terror.

Cold blatant terror.

Running up her spine, across her lungs, grabbing her by the throat and swinging her insides around.

It was everywhere. In her mind, in her lungs, in her veins, in her heart tearing her to pieces bit by bit.

It was making her feel like she had no idea what was going on. But she did, she knew where she was and she knew who was there, and she knew what she had done wrong, and she knew everything and she wasn't sure what to do, that was the one thing she didn't know.

God, she wished she knew.

Zugzwang.

It's a chess term.

It meant you were at a disadvantage.

It meant someone was going to die.

Being good at her job, it gave her the disadvantage in this situation, knowing every single person that had been in the room she was trapped in, it gave her the disadvantage, knowing who was waiting for something to happen in an office surrounded by people trying to figure it out, it gave her a disadvantage.

Zugzwang.

That's what he had said, that's what he had explained to all of them, explained to all of them while letting out his secrets, her secrets, their secrets.

She knew everything now.

She wished she didn't.

Disadvantage.

Zugzwang.

She looked around the room, recognized the walls, the paintings, the paintings scrawled across the floor, across the room, papers everywhere. She looked around and saw a desk, she saw an old desk, a bed-sitting right next to her, she saw a dresser on the other side of the room, she saw a closet door, one she knew was locked.

She wished she didn't know that.

Terror was running up the walls and spreading itself across the room, terror laced onto the bed, glued on there permanently, there was terror laced in the key she knew was in one of the drawers in the desk, terror hid in that key that opened the closet. There was terror laced on the chair she was tied to, the chair that was holding her down keeping her in place.

She used to sit in this chair.

Zugzwang.

There was terror in her face, in the tape that was keeping her mouth shut, the tape keeping her voice held hostage, her feelings trapped in. It was in her hair, that was in knots around her face, and in her eyes blocking some of her view.

On a normal day, she would’ve blown it out of the way.

There was terror laced in her eyes, her eyes that felt like they were being held down, held down and kept there so she couldn't open them, terror in the way she wondered who was holding them down and why they wouldn't let go. There was terror all around her, keeping her trapped in four walls, keeping her trapped in a box. A box that she really really wanted to get out of.

There was terror in the way she could barely breathe, could barely find the strength through the pain in her ribs to breathe.

There was terror in the way she couldn't remember why her ribs hurt so much, why they were stabbing her repeatedly every time she tried to just breathe in.

She didn't know what was going on.

She did know.

She did.

What was going on?

“Y/N! Come swing with me!”

“Can’t Diane. We have school.”

Diane frowned, as Y/N turned around to get her backpack, pulling her arm out of her little sister's grip and walking towards the door.

“Why won't you ever spend time with me!” Diane demanded, stomping her foot as Y/N stood there with a disinterested look on her face.

“Diane, we have to go, Mom’s going to be upset if we’re late.”

“No! I want to swing.” The little girl turned around definitely, walking outside to the old swing set that rested in their backyard.

“Diane! We have to go.”

The little girl in question turned around and stuck her tongue out at the other girl. And then she ran towards the swingset, jumping on it and starting to swing.

“Diane!” Y/N yelled, sighing, and putting down her bag to go get her. “I wish I had a new little sister,” she muttered under her breath.

Y/N thought about what had happened, thought about the last thing she remembered but her mind was blank and her memory was only coming back in bits and pieces.

Why couldn't she remember anything?

She struggled against the zip tie holding her down, she pulled and tried to kick her legs out of it, trying to find a way to cut it. She knew screaming wouldn't do her any good, they were too isolated and she would be too quiet.

She knew that eventually if she tried enough she could get out.

She’d been trained for this, she knew how to get out. She did.

“Poor big sister,” someone said, walking into the room, letting some of the terror crawl out of the crack in the door, they walked around the bed and over to the chair, where Y/N was still trying to kick her way out of, still trying to just get out. “Don't like not being in charge?” They asked, pouting their lips and smirking at Y/N.

She darted her eyes around, looking for something new, anything new, anything to hint to her how to get out, how to leave as quickly as possible.

The only thing she saw was the gun they were holding.

She felt the terror fall into her voice, felt herself try to scream, felt her body use its last method of self-defense, nothing could escape, and the terror was still trying to climb out of her mouth, still trying to leave her, to get out.

The only thing she heard was a laugh, a quiet chuckle, that was arrogant. One that Y/N thought she had heard so many times before, so many times with so many different Unsubs, unsubs that thought they were better than anyone, Unsubs that were arrogant.

She felt her eyes roll back into her head.

“Tsk, tsk, Y/N. Shouldn't an FBI agent like you have escaped by now?” the person in front of her taunted, and they were waving the gun around, pacing in front of Y/N.

She tried to stay calm, tried to not let her body react to the words.

She couldn't.

There was another laugh, another chuckle, another reminder of who was in front of her.

She wished she could speak, wished she could yell and scream and try to use her interrogation skills, and she wanted to speak, she wanted to speak more than she ever had before.

But,

There was tape in front of her mouth, keeping her emotions trapped inside her body like a prison, kept everything she felt locked deep inside of her.

It felt like she was about to explode.

“Oh,” they said, in mock surprise, only making Y/N want to scream more. “I forgot you can't speak.” they pouted, “poor baby.”

Y/N looked at them, stared right into their familiar eyes, looked right at them.

She glared, she glared for herself, she glared for the house that had been overruled by terror, she glared for the terrified people in the other room, for the people that were waiting for her.

She glared right at them.

And with that, Diane lifted her hand,

And hit Y/N’s head with the barrel of her gun.

Zugzwang.

“Our correspondence started 10 months ago.”

10 months of not knowing something was happening, 10 months of watching from the sidelines while he started getting distracted, 10 months of letters and phone calls once a week, 10 months of being in love, 10 months of watching Spencer change.

10 months of Spencer being happy.

It was alright. It was only 10 months.

“She wrote me a compliment on my "Journal of Behavioral Psych" article, and for 3 months, this is how we communicated because she was scared.”

All it took was one compliment, one letter, one tiny moment in the millions of moments Spencer spent with Y/N. It was just one thing.

And he was in love.

“Scared of what Spence?” she asked softly.

He looked panicked, his eyes were wild, and his hair was greasy, and he was pacing, he was pacing around Hotch’s office while the two of them watched, watching him deteriorate with every word.

“She didn't know, only that he was dangerous,” he said, his hands flying wildly as he explained. His voice was calm, but it was easy to tell that the stress had gotten to his brain, that anxiety was burning him from the inside out.

He went on to explain telling them about the letters, the phone calls, he explained that it didn't matter where she moved, that there was a stalker following her somewhere.

He explained how he knew she was missing.

His girlfriend was missing.

His girlfriend was missing, and he was ripping at the seams.

And Y/N was going to have to help find her. She was going to have to help Spencer find her, find the girl he barely knew, the girl he had never seen, never mentioned to any of them until recently, the girl whose last name was a mystery to all of them, the girl who he didn't have a clue about, the girl he was still in love with despite that.

Despite not knowing what she looked like, despite not knowing the little important details that made a person, despite not knowing anything about her except the small details she was willing to share with him.

The girl who Spencer loved.

Maeve.

When Y/N woke up she was in a different room.

She was sitting next to two different people.

She was sitting next to Maeve. She was sitting next to Spencer's girlfriend. She was sitting next to the person she’d been thinking about for months. She was sitting next to Spencer's girlfriend.

She was sitting next to her, she was.

She was going to meet Maeve before Spencer ever could.

She coughed and felt her throat tighten. It felt like she’d been screaming for hours, felt like someone had rubbed her insides on rough gravel.

She wouldn't be surprised if that had actually happened.

She coughed again, looking around the room, avoiding eye contact with the girl sitting next to her, she looked at the man who was sitting in a chair across from her, she took in the detail of his face, his black eye, the cut under his lip. He looked to be asleep. She had heard about him back at the office, she was glad he was alive.

She was glad Diane hadn't killed anyone yet.

She surveyed her surroundings, looked for ways to escape, but found nothing but a covered up window and three people.

She coughed again, trying to get the tickle out of her throat.

“Are you alright?” asked the girl next to her.

That voice. It was soft and sweet and caring.

That voice.

It was the one Spencer had fallen in love with.

She paused, felt her heart catch, felt her mind stop. Before this, she’d been planning to avoid ever meeting her, avoid telling anyone how she really felt, she was going to avoid the truth, and the truth involved the girl sitting next to her, so she’d been planning to avoid her.

That plan wasn't looking up.

She turned to look at her, finally turned to see the girl that had caught Spencer's attention, turned to look into the eyes of the person she’d been competing against in her mind for months.

She was beautiful.

It was that simple.

“Yes, I’m-” she paused to cough again, the words, and the person in front of her, taking her breath away. “I’m fine.”

Maeve just stared at her. She looked confused.

Y/N knew she was probably exactly like Spencer. She was probably surveying Y/N’s body language, and her symptoms, probably trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with her, how hurt she was.

Just like Spencer.

She chose to ignore the fact that she already knew everything about the girl sitting in front of her.

“You’re Maeve.”

The girl sitting next to Y/N looked shocked.

“How did you know that?”

“I’m Spencer’s friend.”

There was a noise from the corner of the room. Both of them turned to look at it, stopping their conversation immediately. It was silent for a minute, and when there was nothing else, they both turned back to each other.

“Which one?” Maeve asked.

Y/N who was staring at the zip tie around her ankles, trying to figure out if she cut and burn it off, looked up.

“What?” she asked.

“Which one of Spencer's friends?” Maeve asked again, less insistent this time.

“I’m Y/N.,” she said, looking away from Maeve over to the man sitting next to her, still asleep. She briefly wondered if maybe he wasn't actually alive, but quickly lost that thought when she saw his chest rise and fall.

“Why are you here?” Maeve asked, just for a moment, reminding Y/N of Spencer.

Always so curious. Always in the need to know.

She was about to answer when there was another bang, another bang, and then a door opening.

Both Maeve and her stared at it terrified, waiting to see who would walk through, if there would be another victim if they were going to have to meet someone else?

When just Diane walked through the door, they both sighed in relief.

Y/N watched her sister walk over to them, watched her examine the zip ties that were keeping them there, watched her smile just slightly.

She hadn't seen her in so long.

Diane looked up at her and watched her staring. Her smile only grew wider, only got more and more threatening.

Standing up she placed a finger under Y/N’s chin, lifting her head and forcing her to look at her.

“Are you ready to have some fun?” she asked.

And then they were all awake.

“Spencer!”

Y/N had watched him storm out, had seen the anger, the frustration on his face. She wasn't going to let him walk off to be killed.

He was a victim too.

He’d walked out of the building, out of the place where all of his team members were working to find his girlfriend, he’d ran out of there and came outside.

Y/N had been lucky to catch up to him.

“Spencer! Where are you going?”

Spencer stopped and turned around. His face was desperate, and his eyes were hard. He looked like a complete stranger. One Y/N had never seen before.

“I had to-” he waved his arms angrily towards the building “I had to get out.” He said, sighing and looking down at her.

She could feel the pain bouncing off from him to her, she could see the wanting, the needing in his eyes, and she had no idea what to do.

“Spence,” she said, trying to get his eyes to relax, to get him to calm down even just a little so he could help. “It's going to be alright.”

He scoffed at her, furious and disbelieving. “How can you just say that Y/N!? Maeve has been kidnapped. She's gone!”

“Spencer I know and we’re-”

“We aren't doing anything! Her life is worth more than a bunch of people sitting around a conference table and talking about her!”

He threw his hands up and turned away from her, there was heat in his tone and anger radiating through his body.

Y/N wondered what he was going through, she wondered how she would feel if he- if someone she loved had gotten kidnapped. She wondered how she would deal with her emotions, she wondered if he could really help them, or if he was too involved.

“Spencer. We are good at our jobs.” she enunciated every word, trying to get them through his head. “We know what we’re doing.”

He sighed and looked down at the ground, yelling at her had gotten some of his anger out, but he was still desperate, still so desperate to find her, to know where she was, to do something other than sitting around and just remember all the things he loved about her.

“I know Y/N. But- I just, I need her. I need to see her.”

The words ripped out the stitches in Y/N’s heart one by one, tore her apart slowly. She wondered when the anesthesia would kick in.

“I know Spencer, I get it-”

“No you don't!” he said, his anger back, hot and flashing. “You don't understand Y/N! You haven't ever loved someone like I love Maeve, no one has! You don't know you just don't!” He looked at her, he looked at her differently than he’d ever looked at her.

Like he was disappointed.

And he walked away, not wanting to hear anything else she had to say, just wanting an update, anything that would prove to him that she was okay.

And Y/N felt so crushed, felt so disappointed, but so so frustrated.

How did she prove to him, how did she show him, how did she help him.

She threw her hands up and groaned, needing a moment to feel nothing but the emotions she’d been holding in.

And then it all went black.

Bobby was dead.

Bobby was dead and Diane had killed him.

Bobby was dead and her sister had killed him.

There was nothing but terror.

Surrounded the two of them, the two of them that were left.

Diane was terror, she inhabited the emotion, she displayed the properties, she terrified them to no end.

When would it end?

When would Spencer show up, when would they finally find them, when would someone come and break them out of the prison of terror they were locked in, the prison that was keeping them hostage was keeping them stuck. Stuck in four walls, stuck next to terror herself, stuck in place not able to move.

Y/N couldn't move.

She wondered when it would be over.

She looked at Maeve, stared at her, observed her watching Bobby’s dead body. She watched her face fall and her muscles tense up and she watched as her eyes darted back and forth and looked around the room, she watched as her eyes became terrified while looking at Diane.

She knew everything now.

She knew how Spencer felt about her, she knew how Maeve felt about him, she knew about the man Maeve had abandoned and replaced with Spencer.

She wanted to hate her.

She wasn't supposed to hate her.

She couldn't hate her, couldn't hate someone that made Spencer so happy, made him happier than Y/N had ever seen, no matter how much Maeve broken Y/N to pieces, tore her apart at the mere thought, no matter how much just saying Maeve’s name hurt her, she couldn't hate her.

She wanted to.

She was trying to remove her emotions, trying not to focus on that, because it wasn't the most important thing, it wasn't important at all.

There were many more important things happening.

Her sister had just killed someone. Her sister had shot a man in the head, had stared at her while she did it. That was important. That was terrifying.

She was terrified.

“What are you doing Diane? Why are you doing this?” She asked she asked as she stared shocked at her sister, at the little girl who used to be so happy, she stared at and tried to remember the last time she had seen her smile.

She didn't like the way she was smiling now.

And then she stopped smiling.

“Why am I doing this?” she scoffed, laughing at the question. “You took something from me! You both did.” she turned to glare at Maeve. Then she turned back to Y/N and laughed again. “Aren't you just the perfect daughter? The smartest, the prettiest, an FBI agent even!” she laughed and paced around her. “You’ve always been better than me. Always one step ahead of me. And I’m not going to let you have the upper hand anymore.”

She walked to the other side of the room and Y/N looked over to see Maeve watching her, studying her.

She looked away. Terror filled her body. She had to do something.

“Diane!” she yelled, hurting her voice even more. “You don't have to kill anyone. That's not going to make you happy,” she said, softer now, talking to her just like a big sister, just like she always had.

It only made Diane even madder.

“It made Mom and Dad happy!” Y/N winced, thinking about the theories her sister had come up with after their suicide, she thought about Diane had refused to believe it, refused to believe anything but the ideas she had conjured up in her mind.

Y/N had been terrible to her then.

“I’m sick of you acting like you know better than me,” Diane said, smiling again.

And then, for the third time that day, it all went dark.

Y/N was gone.

That much was clear.

Spencer had no idea where she went, no idea what had happened after he left her outside, no clue where she could’ve gone.

He didn't know anything.

And he couldn't think, he just couldn't think enough to figure it out. He wished he knew something, wished he knew anything, wished he could just think.

There was nothing.

Just overwhelming thoughts and bile running up his throat.

It hadn't taken the rest of the team long to figure it out, hadn't taken them long to wonder where she might have gone, to wonder what had happened to her. While Spencer was dreaming of a perfect world where none of this was happening, the rest of the team were frantically trying to get a hold of Y/N.

She wouldn't have gone off by herself, she was smart enough to know that was a sure way to get someone else in trouble, and she wouldn't have taken off on a lead without telling anyone. She would’ve told someone if she was going somewhere. She just would’ve.

She was gone.

It was simple.

JJ called her, she called her cell over and over, listening to Rossi and Hotch theorize over their unsub, she called and she called.

There was no answer.

Derek tried next, he tried to ask Spencer, but came up with nothing except a broken genius who was lost in the cycle of desperation. He tried to call her, but only got her voicemail. Over and over.

She still wasn't answering.

Garcia was the last, Garcia was the last to try. She called her cell, and when Y/N didn't answer, she tried tracking it, refusing to let Y/N ignore her. She typed and she typed.

There was nothing.

It wasn't until Garcia rushed into the conference room, ran as fast as she could to her family, it wasn't until she barged in the room out of breath, it wasn't until then Spencer woke up.

Y/N was gone.

“Diane! They killed themselves! They couldn't deal with us, they couldn't deal with anything! Stop with your stupid fucking theories. They’re dead. It's simple. Just stop.”

She was terrified.

She was terrified as she woke up, as she groggily heard Maeve ask for it all to be over. She was terrified as she opened her eyes to look at her, to stare at the girl, to beg her to stop talking. She was terrified as she watched Diane take Maeve, as she watched her drag the girl out of the room, as she dragged her away and left Y/N all alone. She was terrified as she heard nothing, thought of nothing except for the girl that her sister had taken.

Where did they go, where did they go?

Diane wouldn't kill her. She wouldn't kill her right now. If she wanted to get Spencer's attention she would need her, Y/N thought, she thought and she rationalized with herself and tried to remember that Diane still needed Maeve.

Diane wouldn't kill anyone she wouldn't kill anyone, this wasn't her sister, she wouldn't kill anyone.

Maeve would be fine.

They would all be fine.

She was terrified.

She was terrified as she watched Diane drag Maeve back to her chair as she forced her to sit down.

She was terrified as she yelled at both of them. “What's going on? What happened?!?” when no one answered she felt her blood boil. “What's going on!?”

Neither of them said anything. Diane went to go grab something.

Y/N stared at Maeve, begged her with her eyes, and she was met with a quiet “shh” and nothing else.

She felt like a child, she felt like they were both hiding something from her, she felt like she was the dumbest person in the room.

She couldn't tell that she was having a panic attack, couldn't recognize the symptoms she had seen so many times on so many different people. She couldn't tell that she was hyperventilating, that her head was filling with air, that her body was pounding and she was shaking. She didn't realize what was happening.

She could only panic in her terror infused body.

And then Diane came back, she came back holding a phone and Y/N still had no idea what was going on, still didn't know what was happening, still didn't know why she felt like she was about to pass out, she had no idea what was wrong with her, what was wrong with her.

And then Diane went over to Maeve, she went over and held the gun to her head, and whispered something in her ear.

Maeve started to dial on the phone.

And then it was silent, it was silent for a moment, just a moment with the dial tone ringing out, the dial tone and then

“Hello?”

Spencer.

Spencer Spencer Spencer Spencer.

Y/N sobbed out his name.

What was wrong with her, what was wrong with her.

Diane looked at her angrily, motioned for her to stop crying, came over to her, and whispered that she was a child in Y/N’s ear.

And she couldn't stop crying.

What was wrong with her?

And then Diane groaned, she groaned and Y/N could feel her move from behind her, she could feel Maeve staring at her, could feel all of it, could feel all the terror rushing up to her brain, pounding in her chest.

And she still didn't know why she was acting like this.

She heard a soft voice, a quiet question

“Are you guys okay?”

She heard Spencer.

And then Diane hit her in the head again.

And it was darkness.

She woke up to Spencer's voice. She woke up to him walking in the room.

She woke up to,

“Can I take the blindfold off?”

She looked up. She opened her eyes and looked up faster than she’d ever imagined herself doing.

Spencer was here, why was Spencer here, he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be alone.

Where was his vest, where was his vest?

He didn't have his gun on him.

It took her only ten seconds to realize both of these things, it took her only ten seconds to realize he was giving himself up so that Maeve would live, that he was giving himself up.

It only took ten seconds for her heart to start racing, for her head to start burning with the pain that was knowledge.

It took him ten seconds to breathe out a quiet “Hello?”.

Maeve was the first to talk. “Hi.”

And then it was quiet.

“Y/N?” he asked, and she was listening, she was listening to him, but it didn't sound like a question. It sounded like he needed something, it sounded like the voice he always used when he wanted to tell her something away from the team.

She had no idea what it meant.

So she quietly said “I’m here.” and she watched Diane frown at her. She watched her sister glare over at her, and she didn't say anything. She took that as a warning.

She watched as Diane ran her hands over Spencer, she watched as he winced, as Maeve winced, but she was still watching.

She hated watching.

Diane was smirking, she was blissfully smirking as she ran her hands over his chest, and Y/N wasn't listening to her words, she was focused on Spencer on Maeve, she was focused on why he was alone.

She knew the rest of them were outside.

She reminded herself she’d been trained for this.

“It took me a long time. To be honest, I was distracted by your thesis.” she heard Spencer say, and she heard Maeve's breath catch.

She wondered if Maeve was feeling how she’d felt for months.

But she wasn't paying attention to that for long, because she noticed his hand moving, she noticed him moving his hand by his side, the hand that was closest to her.

She watched his hand.

She realized what was going on.

“You know sign language?” she’d asked, surprised that they shared that in common.

“When I was younger I used to read books on it. Hard to forget.” Spencer said, smiling as they both walked back to the car.

“Haha.“ she mock laughed, pushing him with her shoulder.

He just chuckled.

They both moved away from each other, opening their doors and getting into their cars.

Y/N had only been at the BAU for about six months. But she’d created a lifetime of friendships, she knew each and every one of her team members, she already felt like she’d been there for years with them.

She had a special relationship with Spencer. She admired him and looked up to him in a way.

“I guess it'll be our secret way of communication then,” she teased as they both buckled their seatbelts.

Spencer looked over to her, and he smiled, his dimples popping up on his face.

She wondered why he made her feel like this.

“I guess it will,” he said.

Years ago. Years ago they’d had a conversation about it.

He was using sign language.

He was telling her something.

She watched Diane move back surprised, her sister moved to the other side of Spencer so she could see his face. Y/N was still looking at his hands.

“You read my thesis?” Diane asked, shocked, almost proud.

“I did. You know, I think your writing puts you on the same plane as Jonas Salk. I’ve already sent it to the NIH.”

“Flattery is not going to get you out of this.”

Y/N wondered how Maeve was reacting, she wanted to check to make sure she was okay, to make sure nothing had happened to the girl that made her best friend so happy. She wanted to check and let Spencer know that she was fine, but she couldn't, she couldn't because she was still watching his hands.

Save. Save. Save.

“I’ve arranged for your freedom.” Spencer stopped moving his hands and Y/N caught back onto the conversation, she knew interrogation tactics, she knew how to get something out of someone, and she knew that what he had just said was a lie.

He would never let her just get away with what she’d done to Maeve.

His hands started moving again.

“The federal government doesn't make deals with people like me.”

“Not true. Nazi’s were recruited for the Manhatten project. Mafia bosses are regularly put into witness protection.” Spencer said, taking a deep breath. Y/N wished he could see her, wished he could see Maeve.

She hated the way his voice was shaking.

“If what you have is valuable enough, the federal government will work with you.” he continued, “And what you have is very valuable.”

Save her. Save her. Save her.

Maeve.

He was asking her to save Maeve.

“And what doctor do I have doctor?” Diane asked, and Y/N could hear the genuine curiosity in her voice, the hopeful dialect in her tone.

“You have a brain that doesn't play by normal societal rules.” Spencer swallowed. “And I know that all your life the people you care about the most keep leaving.”

People like Y/N. Y/N had left her sister, had called her crazy when she’d questioned their parent's death, had ignored her for years, had made her feel like she wasn't enough like she was crazy.

She was a terrible sister.

She was still terrified.

Save Maeve.

“There's a part of you that thinks it's because of that brain. Well, I'm here because I'm not going to leave you.I'm here because…” Spencer stopped, and Y/N could see where he was going, could feel the hinting in his voice, could feel it all. “I just... hope that I can get the chance.”

Diane gasped. Her sister gasped.

Y/N had to stop paying attention.

She had to stop listening, she couldn't bear to hear her sister so defenseless, so vulnerable, and she didn't want to hear Spencer, she didn't want to know how worried he was.

She had to figure out a way to get them out of there. She had to do what he’d asked, she had to help the person she loved the most, she had to help him save the person he loved the most.

Maeve.

She looked over to her, she saw the frown on her face, the slight jealousy in her eyes. She tried not to sigh at the way she remembered what that felt like.

She wasn't listening to them anymore.

She looked around the room, thought about where the rest of the team would be, thought about when they would decide to come in. Would it be soon, or would it be when they heard gunshots?

She’d been trained for this.

It would be when they heard gunshots. If they had trusted Spencer enough to let him go in alone, they would trust him enough to get them out safely.

There were two FBI agents in the building. They could get everyone out safely.

She’d been trained for this.

She was thinking, she was trying to figure out a way to get out of the zip ties that were holding her down, trying to figure out a way to get Maeve out of the building.

She didn't start paying attention until she saw Diane go over to Maeve.

Y/N could hear Spencer speaking but she wasn't paying attention to him, she was trying to figure out a way to get Maeve out of Diane's line of fire, trying to figure out a way to get out of the straps holding her down.

And then she did.

She dug at the zip ties, remembering all the information she’d learned about them, remembering how she’d been taught to break out of them, she looked at the wall behind her, and slowly started backing her chair towards it, not making a sound.

She was watching Diane move around, watching Spencer talk, but she was focused on the wall, she was focused on the zip tie she felt loosening around her wrist. She was focused on the feeling of her feet digging against the straps.

And she heard a gunshot.

It was a gunshot.

And she knew.

She was almost out, she was almost out, she was almost out, she was almost out. Almost almost.

Save Maeve.

Her hands were loose and Spencer was fighting Maeve for the gun.

Her hands were moving to her ankles and she heard people storming in the room.

Her hands were undoing the zip ties and she saw Spencer get shot, she felt her heart fall, her mind raced, she felt her hands shaking, her hands shaking.

She had to save both of them.

Save her, save her.

She tried to loosen the other zip tie.

She heard Spencer talking, she looked up momentarily to see he was fine, he was just fine, she saw Maeve being held by Diane, and she saw the gun pointed at her skull.

Save her, save her, save her.

She saw the terror in Spencer's eyes.

She finally understood.

She was rushing to get the other zip tie off, but it wouldn't come off, it just wouldn't come off and Spencer was still talking, he was still talking, and the zip tie was still on and she needed to save her she needed to she needed to.

Save her.

And then she heard.

“Thomas Merton.”

And she thought back, remembered the name, remembered the book Spencer had been carrying around for weeks, had been taking with him everywhere, had been re-reading over and over.

And she looked at Maeve, she looked at Spencer, she saw the fear, the terror in both of their faces, she saw it in Maeve’s body language.

No. No. No.

Maeve was giving up.

No.

Save her.

She struggled with the zip tie.

She heard Diane yell at Spencer.

Get it off. Don't give up.

Save her.

“He's the one thing you can never take from us.”

Save her.

Don't give up don't give up.

She got it off, she got it off and she struggled to stand back up, she struggled to get back up, struggled to stay on her feet.

She was too late.

She heard a distant “No.” from her sister.

She looked up.

“Wait!”

She was too late she was too late she was too late.

Save her.

A gunshot rang in the air.

She was too late.

Spencer sobbed.

Diane and Maeve laid on the ground in a pool of blood.

She was too late.

It was silent, it was silent.

Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her.

She screamed.

She screamed and cried out, stumbling over to the both of them, stumbling over to Maeve, the girl who was loved and to Diane, her sister.

She was her sister.

Her sister was dead.

She was too late.

“No.” she gasped out. She gasped and she was panicking, and she looked up and Spencer was sobbing, and everyone else was staring. “No!” she screamed, because this wasn't happening, she wasn't too late, this wasn't happening this wasn't it wasn't happening.

She started hyperventilating, she started screaming, gasping out words, and looking up at everyone.

And Spencer was crying he was crying, and why why.

And he was staring at her.

“No! I’m sorry!” she screamed, her voice coming out in a distant shriek, she was gasping and she was looking at the two dead bodies on the ground she was watching them, she was waiting for them to move.

Save her.

And someone was grabbing her, and someone was grabbing Spencer, and she screamed, and she looked, and Spencer was walking away.

“No! No! No!” she screamed again, trying to shake out of the grip of whoever was holding her. “Spencer no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

And he was gone, he was gone he was gone. She was too late

She was gone.

She was.

Save her save her save her.

She was too late.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

This was all her fault.

Later at the hospital, she learned she’d been drugged.

By her sister.

She didn't need to know.

She had a concussion and a broken rib.

JJ and Garcia stayed with her. They explained to her what had happened while she was gone, explained to her how they saw Diane kidnapping her on building security cameras, explained how they’d learned about her sister, learned about her having a sister. They both said they were shocked. They explained the deal Spencer had made, explained what had happened while she was passed out.

She couldn't feel anything.

She was taking in the information, she was processing all of it.

She couldn't feel a thing.

At the crime scene, she’d been given a sedative, that she’d been having a shock attack and she wouldn't stop.

They explained to her that she could take a couple of days off of work. That she didn't have to get back immediately, that they would leave her police report for later, that none of it matters now. The only thing that mattered was her getting better.

She just stared at them.

And before they left she asked one question, “Hows Spencer?”

The looks on both of her friends' faces had been enough to answer.

She didn't say anything else.

She stopped talking for two weeks.

***

She hadn't talked to Spencer in a month.

It had been a month of solitude, a month of not talking to anybody, a month of spending every day in her house alone, a month of not talking to him.

It was her fault.

She called him every day. She called him, and she left him messages, and she talked to him and asked him how he was and called and called.

And he never answered.

She’d gone to his apartment a couple of times, just in the beginning, just to make sure he was okay. She never said anything when she went, just knocked on the door and waited for an answer, and then she slid a letter under his door and walked around all the gift baskets on his doorstep, and left.

She’d stopped doing that as soon as she’d heard he’d gone back to work.

Penelope had been texting her. Had been calling her at odd times of night, had kept her updated on everything that was happening.

She still hadn't talked to anyone.

Still hadn't said a word to anyone else.

After leaving the hospital she was drained, of energy, of hope, of motivation. She locked herself inside and she didn't talk to anyone, she didn't say a word to anyone.

Except for Spencer.

She wrote him letters and dropped them off at his door.

But she didn't talk out loud.

After two weeks she’d decided to check her text messages.

She read messages about how much everyone loved her, read messages about everything that had happened with the team while she was gone, read messages about how she didn't have to come back until she was ready, that they understood how painful it was to have a family member die.

She wished she could explain to them that that wasn't it.

She wished she could explain that she had mourned the loss of Diane a long time ago, that she hadn't had a sister since her parents had died, she wished she could explain how she’d always felt like Diane had died with her parents.

She hoped her sister was happy now. Wherever she was.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that she had failed Spencer.

The problem was that she was so in love with Spencer, that she felt like she was falling apart because she hadn't talked to him, the problem was that he didn't know, that she loved him so much it made her heart fall apart, and she hadn't been able to do the one thing he’d asked.

Save her.

The problem was that she loved him.

Save her.

So she didn't answer any of them. None of the messages, none of the calls.

She hoped every day she would get a message from him, she hoped that when he finally talked to her, when he finally said something, she would find the words that seemed to be lost in her mind.

He didn't answer.

It’d been a month.

She only talked to herself.

Only repeated the messages that her mind was sending her, only voiced the words out loud so she knew she could still talk, that she still remembered how to talk.

She listened to Penelope explain to her everything, listened, and listened.

Never said a thing.

Everyone was starting to get worried, and when they were worried about her, they asked Spencer. Spencer who didn't know a thing, Spencer who just shrugged his shoulders and got back to work.

He was working too much, Penelope said.

Hotch messaged her asking her when she was coming back to work, hoping that she would at least answer that.

She didn't.

Derek messaged her asking about a case, he figured that if that had worked with Spencer, it would work with her too.

It didn't.

Rossi sent her personalized messages. Pictures of him making pasta, pictures with the team, pictures of dogs because he knew she loved them. He always started his messages with “Kiddo,” hoping it would make her smile.

She didn't answer him either.

JJ texted her about Spencer, told her that she understood, told her that she was always there for her.

Nothing.

Blake, who she hadn't known long, she messaged her about old literature, something they had talked about before everything had happened. She never said anything about her being gone, never told her that she should come back.

Left her on read.

And Penelope called her, called her and told her everything, talked to her about grieving families, and the horoscopes in the magazine she was reading.

Y/N listened to that.

She always smiled for Penelope.

And Spencer.

Y/N was always texting Spencer, was always sending him letters through the mail, leaving her house just for him.

He didn't answer.

For a month.

And when he did, when she finally saw a voicemail from him, finally woke up to something new, finally felt her heart come alive, her brain start running, felt herself wake up for the first time in forever, when she finally saw the message he had left just for her, when she saw it, she fell apart all over again.

“Please stop calling. I don't have anything to say.”

Two sentences, not enough words, barely anything.

And she was laying on the floor, she was lying there in pieces listening to his voice over and over again, she was on the brink of falling asleep, falling asleep and never waking up, because he had answered her because she had finally felt like she dared to speak when she saw his message because they had finally made a breakthrough.

And she wasn't going to speak ever again.

The words had fallen with the pieces, and her voice had been taken by the disappointment that ran through her body, the disappointment in Spencer's voice.

She had no idea how to pick herself up.

No idea how to get up off of the floor and move, and breathe, and speak and do anything.

He didn't have anything to say to her.

She had failed him.

She had failed.

It was all her fault.

She had to leave.

Before she left.

Before she opened the door to leave it all.

Before it was all over.

She left a voicemail.

“Spencer. I know- I know you said to stop calling. And I will- and I am. I will. I promise. If that's what you want, I’ll do it. But I have to- I have to apologize. I have to leave you with a message. I’m so sorry Spencer. I know how much you loved her. I know how important she was to you. If I could do anything to take her place I would. Just to see you happy Spence. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I am. I’m um I’m leaving you with this message. And I won't bother you again- I promise you won't hear from me again. I’m leaving Spence. But I had to say that before I did. I have just one more thing, um, just uh. One more thing. I promise. I have to tell you I understand. Because I do. I understand. I know how it feels to lose someone you love- I mean I… I lost you Spence... So. I know. That's um. That’s it. I’m going. It’ll be okay…. I hope. For both of us. Bye Spencer. I love you.”

And then the dial tone.

***

Two years.

It had been two years since she’d left.

Since she’d put in her letter of resignation, since she’d transferred to the New York office.

It had been two years of keeping in touch with Penelope, two years of working with a completely new team in a completely different unit.

It was a new start.

It was good.

***

Spencer had been listening to it every day.

He had never deleted it.

He just couldn't.

He wasn't over the shock that had come with listening to it, never gotten over the exhaustion in her voice, never got over the stumbling, the nerves, never gotten over any of it.

So he didn't delete. And he told himself he wouldn't until he was over it until he could finally think of it and feel nothing.

She had said goodbye to him.

Just him.

He had asked everyone, had asked if they’d all gotten a voice mail too if she had left a message for everyone.

She hadn't.

Everyone had been shocked when they found out she was gone. With the exception of Hotch. He knew from her resignation. But nobody else.

Except for Spencer.

And he’d never gotten over that.

And he’d never deleted it.

Two years ago, his mind had been filled with grief, every day was a constant cycle of Maeve, a constant cycle of missing her, of worrying about her, of the thought that he’d never gotten the opportunity to tell her he missed her.

And a year ago, that had started to fade.

He’d come to an acceptance. He’d accepted her death, knew that she was happy, wherever she was, she was happy. He knew that his love for her would never fade, but he also knew that she knew that.

He would never forget her.

But he would stop obsessing. Stop worrying about her every day, stop blaming himself for her death. He had managed to stop it all.

And another year went by.

But he wasn't able to delete the voicemail, the one souvenir he still had from her, from her. The girl that had said goodbye to him, the girl that he had blamed for so long.

He regretted that every day. He regretted never talking to her, never saying anything but that he didn't want her messages, he didn't want her pity. He regretted the guilt that he’d heard in her voice every time he listened to her message, he regretted the fact that he had never told her that it wasn't her that, that he was an idiot, but it wasn't her fault.

He’d never gotten the opportunity to tell her that.

And the message never left his brain.

The message was always there, sitting in his inbox, a memory that he couldn't forget, a memory that he wouldn't delete from his phone.

“I know how it feels to lose someone you love- I mean I… I lost you, Spence... “

It played in his head every day, on repeat.

He analyzed it, went through every word, and figured out what it meant, what she was trying to say to him.

After two years he knew exactly how she had felt when she’d sent it to him.

He spent a year denying it, denying the message that was clear in the words she was saying, in the words that repeated in his brain, over and over, in his mind, in the “I love you” she had told him she felt.

She had loved him.

She said she felt like she had lost him.

And he’d lost her.

Physically at least.

Sometimes he still felt like she was living in his brain, living with her in his mind reminding him of how much she meant to him. Of the love he had denied until he thought it was gone.

He didn't understand why he couldn't delete the message.

All he knew was that, before everything, before Maeve, before the grief, before it all, he had loved her. He had hidden love for her. He’d kept it a secret.

All he knew was that he thought it was gone.

He didn't understand why he couldn't delete the message if that was true.

He didn't love her. He… had gotten over it.

There were too many questions, too many things that Penelope couldn't answer for him, so many things he didn't know about her anymore, so many things that he wondered every day. So many things he wanted to say to her.

So many things he had to say to her.

So he knocked on the door.

And she opened it.

And she was there.

Finding her in New York was hard.

At first, he had tried to call her, tried to call her like she had tried to call him years ago. She had changed her number.

And then he’d asked Garcia. Asked her where he could find her, where she was. Garcia said she didn't know. That Y/N had asked her to keep it strictly to email. That she wasn't allowed to track her down.

And then he’d worked alone.

He’d used his years of experience, his years of tracking people down.

And google.

He’d used google.

It had only taken one search to find her. She was one of the most esteemed members of the FBI in New York. She had hundreds of articles written about the awards she had won, about the lives she’d saved, about the incredible work she did there.

Spencer felt his heart speed up at her picture.

She was doing amazing.

And then, after one glimpse of her, one moment of looking into her eyes across a screen, after one glance.

He had to find her.

She was staring at him shocked.

It had been two years.

She’d suffered through working, and fighting her PTSD, and not blaming herself for everything she did, for every little thought she had. She’d suffered through the loss of all of her friends, of having to restart completely, all alone. She’d suffered through the grief she thought she didn't have for her sister and the memories that came with it. She’d had to deal with unreasonable amounts of pain and self-doubt. She’d suffered through it all.

It had been two years.

Spencer was standing on her doorstep.

He looked so different.

“Hi,” he said, awkwardly standing in front of her while she looked up at him, while she stared at him with wide eyes.

She let her jaw drop.

Spencer looked away from her eyes awkwardly, already overwhelmed with just her appearance.

“Who are you?” she asked, while she was still staring at him, looking him up and down. She couldn't believe it.

“Y/N. It's Spencer.”

She just shook her head.

And then she turned around to head back to the living room.

She hadn't been expecting anything like this. It was her weekend off, her weekend with no interruptions, her weekend with nothing. She was barely dressed, in just old sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. She hadn't been expecting anything.

He was there. He was there and he looked so different, and he was there.

There had to be something wrong with her. She had fallen asleep. This was a dream. Pinch me, she thought.

Spencer took her walking away as a sign he could come in. While she walked to the living room, he stepped in and closed the door quietly. He took a moment to take off his shoes before following her.

She’d placed herself down on the couch. She sat there with her head in her hands. He stood in front of her and didn't say a word, wanting her to direct the conversation before he said anything.

She looked up.

“What are you doing, Spencer?”

He cleared his throat, surprised at her voice, “I um, I need to talk to you.”

She stared at him some more, in disbelief. What was he doing here?

“Spencer, it's been two years. I don't think there's anything left to say.” She sighed and looked away from him.

She didn't want to deal with this. It had been two years, she had picked herself up, she had started over again. She didn't need old memories, old failures to come back, she loved Spencer, she probably always would, but she didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to do any of it.

“We have to talk Y/N.” He insisted. Sitting down next to her.

She looked back at him, “Spence…”

“No. You just need to listen okay? I need to talk to you.” She was about to open her mouth and protest, tell him that he was crazy, but he looked at her, he just looked at her and she shut her mouth.

“Look, I blamed you for a long time…” she stared at him. “I did. I blamed you. But- you weren't- it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Spencer, she died because I did get there quick enough. I think anyone would consider that my fault.”

This. This is what she didn't want to do. She didn't want to remember the death she had caused, the disappointment Spencer had felt in her, the failure she had been to him.

She had gotten the girl he loved killed.

“Y/N. No. No.” He said and he grabbed her hand.

She felt her heart skip a beat.

“You didn't do anything wrong. It was never your fault. I was stupid for blaming you, and I’m so sorry.”

“Spencer-”

“I listen to your voicemail. All the time.” He blurted out. Impatient with the situation.

“I… What?”

“Sorry. I know that was weird.” she laughed a little and he smiled. “It's just… the voicemail you left, I listen to it. So much. I can't- I can't stop thinking about it.”

She stared at him. Confused. Worried. She didn't want to think about that voicemail let alone talk about it. She didn't want to think about anything.

Why was he here?

“Did you mean it?”

She focused back on him, lost in thought. “Mean what?”

“You said you loved me.”

You said you loved me.

I love you.

I loved you.

“It was a while ago Spencer.”

He sighed and shook his head. “It was two years ago. Did you mean it?”

She looked at him shocked at how intrusive he was being. He looked the same- and so different -he sounded the same, but he was different. Spencer would’ve been too scared to ask her this two years ago. She wondered if he was scared now.

She felt her heart beating, beating at the memory of how much she loved him, of how devastated she’d been.

“Yes.” she paused, looking away from him. “I did.”

“Oh,” he replied, looking at the floor.

Spencer didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to explain to her, he didn't know how to explain to himself, this conversation had taken a turn he hadn't expected.

“It doesn't matter though.” Y/N said, breaking his train of thought.

“What?” he said looking back up at her.

She sighed. “Spencer, my sister killed the girl that you loved. I couldn't save the girl that you loved-”

“I told you that wasn't your fault-”

She continued “I couldn't do the one thing you asked me. I couldn't do it. I failed you. It doesn't matter if I loved you. It doesn't matter.”

She stood up, wiping her sweaty hands on her sweatpants and walking to the kitchen. She wanted to distract herself from the fact that the only person she had ever loved was sitting in her apartment.

“It matters to me,” Spencer said, standing up and following her to the kitchen.

“Spencer…” she said for what felt like the tenth time. She was tired of repeating it, tired of repeating the words, the truth, she had been trying to forget for so long.

“Y/N why wouldn't it matter to me? I haven't stopped thinking about you since you left. Since I heard that stupid voicemail.” he gestured with his hands, displaying the frustration he felt. “And I can't stop thinking about you.”

Two years ago, the words would’ve been perfect.

Two years ago, she would’ve swooned at the words leaving his lips, would’ve fainted that the possibility that he was thinking about her, thinking about her, and that he couldn't stop.

Two years ago was so different.

She almost wished she could go back.

She was so different.

“Spencer, that girl is gone. She's gone, her sister died, and she failed her best friend, she loved her best friend, and then he was gone too, and she left, she fell apart, she's gone.”

Spencer was silent, he was silent, and then he looked at her.

“It doesn't matter to me. When I saw your picture, when I looked at you on my computer screen, I loved her. I can't stop thinking about her. I don't care who you are, all I know is that you make my heart feel so much different than it ever has before. I can't stop thinking about you, I can't think about anything else.”

And his voice was warm, and he was desperate for her to believe the words, the words that had been running through his head since he’d first seen her. He amazed her just by being there.

Y/N didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do, she didn't know what else she had to say, she didn't know whether to believe him or not, she didn't know what to say, didn't know what to say...

What should she say?

“Really?” she blurted out, her filter gone, her curious mind stuck on the words. The words she’d been dreaming of since she’d met him.

He always made her feel like she didn't have the words.

“Yes.” he insisted, walking towards her, and looking down. He smiled just for a second, smiled at how small he looked, smiled at the thought of all the amazing things she’d done since she’d been gone, smiled at how familiar she was to him. “I have missed you every day. Even before you left I missed you.”

And it was like two years ago. It was like she was still desperately in love with him, still stuck in his thoughts, in his voice, in the way he did everything. She felt like the younger version of herself, a completely different version, she felt like nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

“Spencer.” she choked out, the words, the feelings, getting caught in her throat. “Maeve died.”

And she felt disgusted by the sentence, she felt like she was nothing at just the two words she hadn't said to anyone but herself in two years, she was nothing, she didn't have the words, and she didn't have the strength, and maybe she hadn't picked herself up, because someone whole didn't feel like this.

And Spencer was standing there looking at her.

He frowned at the tears in her eyes.

“I know,” he said, wiping her cheeks, and moving her chin up so that she would look at him. “I’ll miss her every day too. I love her. I think I always will.” Y/N closed her eyes, closed her eyes, and waited for the nightmare to end, she wanted it to be over already. “But.” and she opened them, and she looked at him. “I love you.”

Was she awake? Was she alive. This wasn't real this, he didn't, he hadn't, he wasnt., this wasn't real. Real things didn't feel like this.

Was she still falling apart?

“Spencer,” she said, all her other words laid out on the floor, too far away for her to reach.

“Y/N. I love you, and I know it's too late, I know it's been two years but- I love you, and I don't know how else to feel.” He laughed. “I’m a genius and I still don't know.”

She giggled a little bit. Through her tears.

And then she stopped.

And she looked into his eyes seriously.

“Spencer, it's been two years. And I’m still struggling, I still can't get through a day without-” the tears were in her eyes, and the feeling was in her chest, pricking at her heart, and she still couldn't stop thinking about what she could’ve done.

“Y/N.”

Spencer was staring at her, he was staring at her, and his eyes, god his eyes, just looking at them made her feel like she could be okay.

How could she ever be okay, how could she have ever been okay without him?

He was standing next to her.

“Y/N. I can leave, I can go, if this isn't what you want, I can leave.” He looked right into her eyes, became familiar with her face once again. It was insane that he had ever been able to stay away from her. “But I want to be here, I want to be with you no matter how many things you think are wrong with you. You were there for me when I was broken. If that's what you think you are,” he moved the hair out of her eyes “I’ll be there for you just the same.” and he smiled at her again. “But I don't think you’re broken.”

He didn't think she was broken, he didn't see anything wrong with her, he was going to be there, he was going to be there, he was going to.

“Or I can leave?” he said, his brows furrowed after she hadn't answered.

And she shook her head. Immediately. Hesitation was gone.

She didn't have the words she didn't have any of them; they were sprawled across the floor, but she could still feel how he always made her feel, she could still feel his love bursting through her chest, burying everything else under the strength of it.

“I love you, Spencer.”

And he laughed.

She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him laugh.

She couldn't remember any time in the last two years she had thought about him without remembering the tears in his eyes, the pain in his body.

He was in front of her.

“I love you too,” he said.

And she had a new image. He didn't believe she had failed him, he believed he loved her. He had just said he loved her.

“I’m still in pieces Spencer,” she warned, she was going to give him one more way out, one more opportunity to leave.

She still didn't want to believe this was happening.

“Y/N. You can be in pieces and still love me,” he said softly, right in her ear.

And she was going to let herself. She was going to let herself love him, for the first time, she wasn't going to think about it, she wasn't going to think about anything except his hands on her waist, and the feeling in her chest she hadn't felt in so long.

She hadn't felt like this in so long.

And the words, the ones she’d been searching for since that night, the words she’d always imagined Spencer giving to her, those words,

They were there.

He handed them to her.

They were simple.

“I love you.”

my masterlist here

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yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Birthday

Pairings: The Avengers x reader

Summary:

It’s your birthday and the team gets creative on how to surprise you, putting their acting skills to the test.

Word count: 2,350

A/n: just a little something because,, well,, it’s my birthday *runs away* also it’s cheesy, hopefully it makes sense lmao

Warnings: uhhh brief mention of explosion? mostly fluff

The Avengers wanted to get creative for your birthday this year. For the few years they've known you they picked up on things about you. One, you paid no mind to your birthday at all and just considered it a normal day like the rest of the 365, Tony took note that you hated parties, at least the really big ones, something that involved only the team would be good.

Okay, you sound like a party pooper, but that isn't the case; it's not a crime to just... not want to have a grand celebration, right? And people singing the 'happy birthday' song to you too while you just sit there in silence. It's awkward, you once told Natasha. It’s also awkward and hard for you to receive presents even though that’s what birthdays are all about, you’re still getting used to it since you knew someone like Tony Stark.

Well, the team think you're an amazing friend and they all treat you like family. They're so glad they met someone like you.

You're immediately called to the conference room on that day. Only to find the team arguing and pointing fingers at one another.

You kinda just slot in, sitting on the chair you usually sit on whenever there's a meeting or mission briefing. Glancing around, you try and find out what they're fighting about.

Security. Suits. Brief mention of Ultron. Rhodey busying himself with phones, probably making a lot of calls. Natasha and Clint talking among themselves, only raising their voice whenever they're included in the conversation which mainly consisted of Tony and Steve arguing.

"Suit up, get the jet ready." Steve dismisses but before he could walk out himself you raise your hand.

"Hey, sorry, I just woke up," you say sheepishly but coolly at the same time. "What happened, is everyone supposed to go? Can I read the file?" Because if this is an Avengers-level threat that required everyone, you'd want to know all about it.

His sharp and expression softens slightly when he looks at you. "No file, I'm afraid. Some of the compound's security protocols have been compromised, someone hacked in." He proceeds to tell you how they particularly had interest in Bruce and Tony's lab so the other rooms were untouched.

Apparently, they took blueprints and materials, maybe a handful of Tony's suits.

But if you think about it, those two carelessly letting the security to their lab loose? Highly unlikely...

You push the thought to the back of your mind and nod when Steve tells you to get ready. Stark tech can be dangerous in the wrong hands, after all. Let alone the Iron Man suits.

Fortunately, those things have trackers. Leaving you to wonder again why those idiots don't even try and take them off so they won't tracked?

Sat on the floor of the jet while everyone was strangely quiet but once again you didn't pay any mind, you sharpen a few of your knives. Natasha sat on a stool near you, idly picking her nails. An hour into the flight you furrow your brows and look around.

"Are you guys okay?"

"Yes," Tony states quickly and a matter-of-factly. They all share glances before he continued. "It's the tension. Sorry. My fault."

"It's not your fault, Tony," Bruce starts.

"I'm sorry, to whom were those stolen suits again?" Steve speaks up as well and you could tell it's gonna be a full blown argument again.

"Now hold on just a second-" Tony faces the super soldier to counter.

You merely blink, not expecting a simple question to turn out like this. Clint just glances from the pilot's seat and Natasha almost cracks a smile by the look of your face. If only you knew it was all fake, all planned. But what does she know? You're a spy too, maybe you've figured out what they're up to and decided to play along.

Sad to say you're still oblivious. Maybe the fact that you only slept three hours last night is one case. You wanted nothing more than your bed right now.

Heck, not one of them wished you a happy birthday but you didn't notice at all.

Tuning out their bickering you sit down next to Natasha who's the only one not in the argument.

"I haven't seen Wanda all day," you say and she turns her head to face you. "Or Sam, or Bucky."

"Probably not back from their mission." Natasha answers promptly.

You frown at that. "Steve made this sound like an Avengers-level threat, and it is, shouldn't they be here?"

You don't wait for a response, opening up a globe-shaped hologram that shows where the jet, represented by a blinking dot. Your eyes slightly widen when you see the target location which is one of the places you've been dying to visit your whole life.

Maybe it's just a coincidence. You definitely didn't expect to visit it for the first time on a mission though.

Natasha clears her throat. "Hey, have you read the book I gave you?" She subtly closes the globe up when she catches your attention.

You shake your head bashfully. "You know I'm a slow reader. Give me two months then I'll come back to you." You laugh. Natasha smiles and tells you to take your time. "Have you read the book I gave you?"

"I loved it."

"I knew you would!" You say excitedly and the next few moments you discuss about the specific book. She's just glad you didn't ask any further questions about the location.

All of you split up once you reach the base but Rhodey and Bruce stay in the jet as backup. The place reminded you so much of the old Avengers tower, only with darker themes. You're paired with Clint who you follow to the side of the building, with surprisingly no cautiousness. He just... ran in, entrance deserted of guards.

You all had a digital, tech checklist to see what was stolen including all the suit names. So far you've searched two drawers now and still no sign of any agent or guard. But it's weird since the others are clearly doing their part on their floors. Thuds, footsteps and sometimes banging sounds could be heard all around.

“Finally," you mutter when you hear footsteps behind you, spinning around so suddenly to surprise your enemy and take him down with ease. You raise an eyebrow when they don't put up a fight at all.

Clint was in front of a computer when you peek in to one of the rooms but he waves you off. "I'll meet you on the next floor. This'll take a second."

"One suit on the roof!" you hear Steve grunt through your earpiece.

"Remember to remove the arc reactor, that'll shut them down for sure." Bruce reminds through everyone's comms.

You hear Tony let out a noise. "Might have a problem with that, Banner, they're all reprogrammed."

Expecting the man with seven Ph. D's to worry, it only took him a minute to respond back. "It's your tech. I don't believe they could do that completely especially having them for only twelve hours."

"In that case," Tony sighs. "There should be a kill switch under one of their reactors."

"Which one?" Natasha grunts.

The deafening silence from Tony's line explains it.

You fight your way though the thugs which again, don't put up a fight. Sometimes you throw one punch and they're out cold, leading you to believe the intense training Bucky insisted you do worked. The only tough ones were the Iron Man suits themselves.

Ripping out the arc reactors wasn't easy. You had to use all you force. On the second one you encounter it got the upper hand and blasts you through a wall, the impact sending sharp pain to your head and back.

You hear metal thumping of a suit so you get back up and attempt to get your hands on the Iron Man in front of you.

"Hey, hey. Same team. Look," Tony grips on your wrists and lifts his mask up. "You alright?"

“Yeah," you pant, relaxing a bit. "Yeah. One of them got m-"

"We just discovered a bomb, northwest," Clint says. By ‘we’ he means him and Natasha. The redhead speaks right after. “Two and a half minutes. How many suits left, Friday?”

"Only one more suit is fully functional."

You get out of Tony's hold and sprint up the stairs. "I got it."

He smiles to himself. The plan is all coming to place.

As soon as you enter the room you dodge a blast from the much bulkier Mark XVI. Of course they'd want to make the stealth suit more powerful. You launch yourself towards it, stomping on an arm while trying to dodge blasts from the the other one.

"Y/N! Fifty seconds!" Steve shouts in your earpiece.

You could've just jumped out, leaving the compromised suits here to be blown up but being under pressure made you panic and set your only goal to find the switch.

The suit could still set off a blast from the arc reactor so you couldn't really get your hands on it without losing a freaking arm.

"Get out of there!”

But you didn’t have enough time. So you just curl into a ball against the wall, accepting your fate.

A pop did go off. Loud, but you didn't feel yourself torn into pieces right after. You also heard a bunch of aye’s and oh’s. Redwing whirs by to your head to drop off a birthday hat.

"Happy Birthday!”

Your eyes fly open. Turns out the only thing inside Mark XVI was confetti. Natasha walks over to you to inspect and make sure you're alright.

"What the hell?" Your eyes widen at her, then at everyone. Sam and Bucky were now standing with them, smiling at you amused.

"I think she's in shock.”

“You think?”

Steve glares at Tony with a hint of amusement. "I told you it would be too much."

"Trust me she prefers something like this instead of a big party. Don't you, Y/N?"

"What do you mean?" You take off the hat and clutch it between your hands, appreciating Natasha rubbing your back as you try to collect yourself. "How is none of this real?"

"We basically faked a mission for you." Rhodey says.

You look around all the rubble. "This building, the people, suits-"

"Bought the place," Tony states. "Hired stuntmen, did a few tweaks on the suits...”

"God, why would you do that?" You bury your face in your hands, not knowing if you should be laughing or crying. "I punched those guys!"

"They'll be fine, they signed up for it."

You gently get up and brush off some confetti off your knees.

"But back at the compound... you guys were yelling at each other and during the whole thing you all sounded serious," you point out. "Was that all part of the act?"

Especially when that 'bomb' was about to go off. Steve's panicked voice made you scared for your life, only to know that it was all fake.

They all show signs of agreement, laughing.

"We'd make such great actors." Natasha smirks.

"Alright, the cake isn't going to blow itself." Clint walks up to you with said cake and you meet him halfway.

Everyone gathers around and before they could inhale to sing the stupid song, you cut them off. "You all know I hate to be sung at. Can we just get this over with?"

They all burst out laughing, you giggle in the process, blowing out your candle. You all group hug right after. The laughter makes you miss the sound of faint thunder outside.

"Look who's late." Bruce points out.

"Yes, I got here as soon as I can, my apologies." Thor smiles sheepishly.

Your ears perk up at the all too familiar voice of the god of thunder. Moving everyone of the way, you leap to hug him. "Thor!"

"Happy birthday, dearest Y/N." He grins and pats you on the head. "I'm afraid my - I mean - our gift, is with Loki at the moment."

"Enough with the formality, I’m just glad you’re here.”

Peter rings up Tony to tell him everything's set up at the huge building they rented for your low-key party. Just the Avengers. Peter, Vision and Wanda were in charge of setting things up over there, from decorations and food. Sam and Bucky also helped a bit before they arrived at the fake base.

So you all get into the jet again, this time you look at the windows in awe to see what the city's like. You also asked a bunch of questions on how they pulled something stupid but unique fake mission like that.

Once you've reached your destination, the place was simple yet big enough to fit everyone. Tony really took notes for this year. You didn't like anything too fancy or elegant, and you didn't like huge-ass parties with hundreds of people you've never met before.

Here you're with your family eating, drinking booze and playing games, generally having a good time.

You give the other five Avengers big hugs. Vision's never usually a hugger but for you he made an exception just for today. Everyone was surprised when he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

"Hugging has a lot of good benefits," Vision says when he lets you go. "Astounding, I know. It is recommended eight times a day, hopefully you've already gotten that much."

You giggle at his remark and Wanda rolls her eyes playfully. “Thank you, Vision.”

“Splendid, that means I don’t have to give you one.”

You turn around to see the god of mischief himself carefully hand you a wrapped box. Loki chuckles when you smile at him. “Happiest Birthday.”

“Loki.... you know you and Thor didn’t have to-”

“Thor? That one’s from me. I assure you.”

“Y/N!” You hear Tony call from the other side of the room. “It’s time for presents, little miss. Good lord this looks like Christmas morning.”

unfortunatley i am that extra to post a birthday fic woo hoo

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tangledstarlight · 4 years

Photo

...i said i was going to make it and well, here we are i guess. im so sorry for this.

Carlos Molina’s to Guide to Ghost Hood (title subject to change)

welcome to the 1st edition, maybe i’ll make a 2nd if i get inspired enough but also, this is such a mess already i don’t think the world needs a part 2 dfghg

Link to the power point is in the first reblog. (i’d highly recommend watching it for the full experience dfgh)

Link to ao3 also in the first reblog.

below the cut is the accompanying fic and description of the rules/guide.

The tape recorder lets out a low buzzing sound as Carlos presses a button on the side and stands it up between them on the dining room table. Julie shoots an amused glance at Reggie who’s taken up residence in the chair next to him, the two of them flipping open notebooks and clutching pencils.

“Where did you even find a tape recorder?” She wonders, stretching out a finger to touch the silver rectangle only for her hand to be swatted away by Reggie.

“Found it in a box of moms stuff and dad said we could order some tapes from amazon,” Carlos replies matter of factly, straightening up in his chair once he seems to have found the page he was looking for. “Right. Let's start off easy, shall we?”

He looks at her expectantly and Julie rolls her eyes, waving a hand at the two of them, “Lets.”

“Question one,” Carlos taps his pencil at the top of his page before squinting at her, “Did you conduct any séance related activities before the ghosts showed up?”

Julie blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking but the pair of them just look back at her, heads both slightly tilted and it’s at that moment that she realises how serious they’re going to be about this. It was going to be a long afternoon of questioning apparently.

“No, I didn’t conduct any séance related activities. I just put on their CD and they y’know, fell out of the sky.”

“Interesting, interesting,” Carlos mutters as he looks at Reggie’s notebook as the older boy writes her answer down, underlines something and taps it with his pencil that makes Carlos let out a small hm. “So you don’t know anything about the dark room? Didn’t make any wishes?”

“No,” Julie shakes her head, watches Reggie write something else down and tilt his notebook to Carlos. It’s weird, watching them communicate like that, like they’ve created a shorthand between them and don’t even require her presence to have a conversation. Which is obviously true because they’ve clearly discussed all this beforehand.

“You walked through Luke right? What did that feel like to you?” Reggie’s question catches her off guard and she looks between them, but Carlos is already looking at her, waiting for her answer.

“It was um cold? But also not. I--” she frowns, trying to think back to that first night in the kitchen when she’d turned around and walked through him. Back when she’s barely known any of them and was more annoyed by their presence then comforted. “It was weird. The first few seconds after I walked through him I just felt cold but then it was like a rush of warmth? You know when you get one of those random shivers that runs through your whole body? It feels all weird and tingly but also kinda nice? Like that.”

“Did it feel like you got a feel of Luke?” Carlos asks and Julie shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks and somehow, despite the fact they can’t see each other, the two of them share a look.

“What’s the next question,” anything to move off the topic of walking through Luke and how it felt.

“Oh Julie is gonna be so pissed at you guys,” Alex mutters but makes no move to step in and stop the ‘experiment’ currently going on. He watches as Reggie tries to put a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, fingers phasing through the younger boy's jacket with a frown.

“She won't be pissed if it works,” is all Reggie says, face morphing into one of concentration as he slowly lowers his hand on to Carlos’ shoulder again.

For his part, Carlos bounces slightly on his toes, eyes fixed on the notebook in Alex’s hand in case they need to tell him something. And okay, Alex might not fully agree with the way the two of them are going about this whole thing, but he can’t say he’s not on board with it. Their whole stint as ghosts has been nothing but confusion after confusion that not even Willie has answers for. Does he think Reggie and Carlos are going to uncover some fundamental thing that makes them the way they are? Probably not. Will they maybe get him some kind of answer? God he hopes so.

Especially since there’s been small moments in the last few weeks where Ray and Carlos have been able to hear them even without them playing music or Julie nearby. Which had scared all of them. Thought it was nothing compared to Ray’s reaction when he’d apparently walked into the kitchen to find Julie and Luke hugging, only for him to vanish when they suddenly let go. It was a hell of a way to find out they could be seen if they were touching her.

“Oh!” Carlos suddenly exclaims, head whipping to look at his shoulder where Reggie’s hand is resting solidly on the fabric of the jacket. Alex feels his eyes widen a fraction and watches Reggie’s smile widen as he squeezes slightly on Carlos’ shoulder. “Oh my god! I can feel that!”

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, grip on the pencil in his fingers growing.

“Hey! I heard that too! Quick! Write it down! 30 minutes and- and however many attempts it took!” Carlos grins, face turning towards him and Alex doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about swearing before he’s scribbling in Reggie’s notebook.

“Thanks again for taking me,” Carlos says as he pulls his seat belt across his chest and clicks it in, eyes drifting from his tia in the front seat to the little notebook resting on the back seat and the pencil that’s hovering just a few inches off the paper. Subtly he sees it tap on the page, once, twice, and he bites down on his grin, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop from bouncing in his seat. They’re ready.

“Of course mijo,” Victoria smiles over at him as she turns on the engine, fingers already messing with the buttons on the radio to find her favourite station. “I have to say I’m impressed. Planning ahead for your dad's birthday.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, his eyes on the notebook that he can just see in the rearview mirror. The pencils resting between the creases in the pages and he holds his breath as the radio jumps to a different station.

Victoria frowns slightly, her eyes darting from the road to the radio and back, hand reaching out to change it back. When it jumps to another station. And another. Carlos feels his eyes widen a little, legs bouncing on top of his hands as he watches the radio cycle through station after station, only lingers for a few seconds on each before moving on.

Finally it stops, the words of Despacito ringing through the car and it’s lucky they’re at a red light he thinks, because when Victoria tries to change it it jumps right back.

“What the f-” she starts, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and the knuckles on her hand that’s still gripping the wheel turning white.

“Can we leave it? I like this song,” he looks over at her with a smile, blinking in what he hopes is a completely innocent way. He’s pretty sure she’s too distracted by the radio to question it.

“Sure, sure,” she mutters, not even looking at him, eyes going from the road to the radio.

The song ends and from the corner of his eye he can see the pencil in the back moving, Reggie or Willie writing something down and he has to stop himself from turning around to see what it is. Instead he watches as tia starts changing the radio station again, her fingers never leaving the touch screen as if that was the problem. But the second she lands on her favourite 80’s classics station and is moving her fingers away it changes. Skipping through stations again until Despacito is once again filling the car.

It’s probably lucky that they’re at another red light and that there’s no one behind them because her eyes widen and she’s suddenly saying words in Spanish that he knows he shouldn’t know and is pulling over to the side of the road.

“We have to get out! The car is being possessed! Out, out Carlos! Come on!” Her seat belt is off and her door is open before Carlos even has a chance to process what’s happening. The notebook from the back is pushed in front of his face and he tilts his head a little to side to read Reggie’s familiar handwriting,

Too far?

“Maybe,” he whispers back, taking the notebook out of the ghost's hand as he starts to get out of the car, plucking the pencil out of the metal spirals and making a note about not pushing tia in a moving vehicle and to wait until after they’ve gone shopping first.

She’s got her phone pressed to ear when he joins her on the sidewalk, pacing up and down. Carlos is pretty sure there’s going to be a family dinner story time in their near future.

Luke watches as Carlos sets his tape recorder up, idly plucking out a half finished tune on his guitar in order to be seen and heard. He doesn’t really get the other boys interest in figuring out their ghostly state of being. The same way he doesn’t really care about finding answers to all of Alex’s questions.

They ate some bad street dogs. They died. Julie brought them back and then she saved them a second time. They can play music and sometimes be seen. He already has all the answers he needs and it’s two words: Julie Molina.

Would it be nice to know what the black room was? Sure. Did he sometimes wonder why they could be seen but other ghosts couldn't? Sometimes. Did he want answers? Only if someone was going to give them to him without having to do the work. Was he going to sit here and answer all of Carlos’ questions because it was important to him and to the others? Fuck yeah he was.

“Does that think pick up our voices even if we’re not playing and not near Julie?” He nods at the recorder on the table after Carlos hits a button.

“Yeah! It’s so cool too. You sound like, all static-y and I have to listen really hard sometimes because your voices fade in and out but they’re there!”

Okay, Luke can admit that is pretty cool, “That’s wicked. Maybe we should start using that to communicate instead of writing.” He was really sick of people commenting on his handwriting.

“Dude that’s genius! It would be like leaving each other voice notes!” He gestures in the air with his pencil the same way Julie does when she’s realised the issue with a verse and Luke smiles softly. He doesn’t know what voice notes are, but he’s glad he could contribute to the communication issue.

“What questions have you got for me then little dude?” He raises an eyebrow at Carlos as he flips through his notebook.

When he’d first knocked Alex down Willie never thought it would lead to him sitting in the Molina’s family living room, a whiteboard resting on his knees as a twelve year old shows him bar graphs and pie charts of information on ghosts.

There was probably some kind of domino-butterfly effect going on that had led him here. But he’s too busy trying to fit all his know ghost knowledge onto a whiteboard so Carlos can fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

Over the years Willie has met a lot of lifers, has interacted with a handful at the HGC but he’s never met a family like the Molina’s. Who found out ghosts were real and instead of running, or trying to profit off of them, had just...welcomed them into the family. Arms wide and hearts open.

And more than that, here was Carlos trying to get answers to questions that none of them really had an answer too.

“Black room, yes or no?” Carlos asks, holding up a flash card and a clothes peg, ready to add it to the line of string stretching across the room. It was already littered with other cards in an order that Willie really didn’t understand but seemed to make perfect sense to the younger boy and Reggie.

Not for me, or anyone I asked at the club, he scribbles down, turning to the board around.

“Just like we thought,” he nods to himself, taking two steps to the left and reaching up to attach the card, “An anomaly.” he whispers it to himself and Willie has to bite his lip to stop from smiling before remembering that Carlos can’t actually see him.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice from the doorway drags his gaze away from the lifer and the smile he’d been trying to stop spreads across his face, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t think we’re even half way through,” he chuckles, gesturing with one hand at the stack of flashcards and the charts he hasn’t even seen yet. “Do you understand this system?”

The exasperated laugh that leaves Alex’s lips is answer enough before he’s even shaking his head, strands of blonde hair dipping into his eyes and Willie wants to reach to move away, “Not a clue. They’ve tried to explain it to us but it makes zero sense to anyone but them.”

“Hey, Alex, stop distracting him, we’re working here!” Carlos’ voice makes him jump, head turning back to where he’s standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment in the vague direction of where Alex is standing.

“Wait, can he see you?” Willie frowns, mind trying to remember if he knew this or not.

“No, he’s just really good at sensing us these days,” Alex sighs, but there’s a fond look in his eyes as he looks at Carlos, “He says it’s his ghost powers kicking in from how often he hangs out with Reggie and from all the failed teleportation experiments.”

“The failed what now?”

“Oh, you’ll find out. I think it’s section 7?” Alex grins, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the doorway and waving.

Willie turns back to Carlos feeling a little more confused than he had minutes ago but also much more intrigued about teleportation experiments. And if he could help get some answers for any of the many questions Alex had, that was cool too.

Carlos Molina’s Guide to Ghosting. So you became a ghost, huh?

(working title, subject to change)

By Carlos Molina, with special thanks to Reggie Peters and Willie Skateboard.

1st Edition.

Dedicated to Alex Mercer, so he can stop asking so many questions. We’re working on it buddy.

1. Tangibility

They can walk through anything (except my sister now, reasons still unclear).

Works especially well with walls, doors and locked vaults (see exhibit a)

When they walk through people it “allows them to get a feel for the person” – Reggie Peters. “It’s weird” – Alex Mercer. No comment from Luke Patterson as he was too busy staring at Julie.

2. Souls

Objects can be attached to their souls.

Still unclear if it has to be an object that they were close to in life, or if they can attach their souls to any object once a ghost.

Experiments with Reggie Peters are still ongoing. Updates will follow.

3. Being Seen

Can be seen by “lifers*” when they play music with Julie.

This is the first rule which only applies to our ghosts.

They can be heard when they play music without Julie. This is also unclear as to why, working theory is “Our music is just so awesome it transcends deaths!” – Luke Patterson.

Mr Willie Skateboard was quick to point out it’s “weird” and “ghosts aren’t supposed to be seen by lifers.”

4. Touching

Our ghosts can now touch Julie. The biggest change in their afterlife.

Still no explanation for it. Experiments are ongoing (see exhibit b)

Have witnessed Julie hugging the air many times only for Alex or Willie to appear. Same with hand holding. (see exhibit c for dads reaction)

5. Magic

Some ghosts have powers and abilities.

Willie* can control different types of technology. Appears to work best with cars. This we believe correlates with who a ghost dies.

In our expedition to test his skills he skipped through 15 different radio stations of Tia’s car until he found one playing despacito. Test was a success. Tia does think her car is haunted now however.

6. ???

There was a dark room.

All other ghosts interviewed had never heard of it before.

All our ghosts agreed it was weird and creepy.

We are choosing to pretend it didn’t happen.

Working theory: a hole in time that they fell through. Must find a way to test.

7. Teleporting

part 1)

Ghosts can teleport wherever they want in the world.

Only the most powerful can teleport a lifer with them (will keep attempting)

part b)

Our ghosts can pinpoint Julie’s exact location wherever she may be in the world.

Will be helpful if she is ever kidnapped, Julie however wishes they would stop using said power to find her in gym class.

“I already have find my friend activated” – Flynn had to say on the matter.

part c)

Julie can summon the boys to her if she concentrates hard enough. Came in handy when an evil magician tried to kidnap them.

Also possibly how they escaped the dark room, no way to prove or deny this as dad won’t let me eat a bad hotdog to become a ghost.

Working theory: magic of music and family

See Exhibit d

See Exhibit e

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #carlos molina #willie jatp #willie #ray molina #jatp #this is...this is really something that i made huh #why did i do this #i just. okay #you gotta read the power point as if carlos and reggie are presenting it btw #and reggie is wearing a sheet for the aesthetic

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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"Hi kinda new. I don't know if this is where requests go, but if you haven't done it yet can I request an MC sneaking into the boys beds?" ~irenethehotdog

The MC Sneaks Into the Brothers' Beds While They're Asleep

@irenethehotdog don’t worry, I found ya anyway. 😁 Sooo there was a kind of tender way I could have played this… but then there was a funny way. I hope you're alright that I went with the funny way. 😅 I got two bed requests that are kind of similar-ish but how I’m interpreting them makes them just different enough to warrant two different asks. Here's the first one!

Check out my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Comical nudity? Is that NSFW-ish?

Intro:

Sometimes everybody needs a little comfort, especially in the middle of the night. Any number of things could have drawn the MC out of their bed: bad dreams, nagging thoughts, just general fear of the darkness of Hell that surrounded them, but they decided to try to soothe their unease with the company of their demonic housemates! Wonder how that turned out for them..?

Lucifer

I mean, if you’re feeling a little alone at night, maybe a little scared, it would only be natural to want to seek solace with the strongest person in the nearest vicinity, right? ...Right?

To say it was maybe ill-advised to just climb into bed with Lucifer would be an understatement… Frankly, if the enchantments he had on his door weren’t specifically meant for Mammon then they might have ended up in a very compromised position. But somehow, they managed to infiltrate the demon’s private sanctuary and get right up to his bed.

Now, Lucifer is not a heavy sleeper. Not at all. He’s grown pretty accustomed to waking up at all hours of the night because of his brother’s antics, so he felt the shifting weight on his mattress almost instantly.

They probably weren’t expecting him to suddenly jerk upright and spin towards them, fireball in hand ready to lob at their face... but that’s what they got.

After realizing that it was just the human and not Mammon coming in to take his stuff again, he made them sit down in front of his fireplace while he gave them a looong lecture about personal boundaries and how it’s really not smart to sneak up on demons like that…

But he was still sympathetic to their sleep-deprived state so he offered them some tea and Devildom sleep remedies in hopes of getting them back to bed. ...Just not his. Back to your bed with you, MC.

Mammon

Mammon was their “babysitter.” Their protector. Their guardian. So why wouldn’t they want to go to him on a difficult night?

Getting into Mammon’s bed was hardly a challenge, sure they had to tiptoe through the garbage heap that made up his bedroom floor but it wasn’t Mission Impossible or anything…

What did catch them off guard was just how… not clothed he felt after they slid in under his covers. Like, pretty much wearing nothing at all. Not even a pair of courtesy boxers. 😓

It was their squeal as they flung themselves out of the bed that actually woke Mammon up. They had him ripping the covers off, ready to leap into action and everything, which definitely didn’t help matters. (Or maybe it did, depending on your point of view 🤷‍♀️).

Both parties pretty much turned into a cursing/blushing mess as he shot them embarrassed, rapid-fire questions while desperately trying to pull on some sweats. Meanwhile the MC stayed plastered up against the wall of his bedroom, answering him in equally defensive shouts.

Eventually, their fuss woke up Lucifer who was quick to send both of them back to their respective beds. The House teased them mercilessly for weeks… How were they supposed to know Mammon slept naked??

Leviathan

Levi might be a… strange choice for bedmate at first glance (he doesn’t really even sleep in bed, but a tub hardly meant for two people). However, there’s a certain level of approachability to him, isn’t there? Considering his own struggles with anxiety, maybe they thought he could relate…?

They tried knocking on his door first, thinking he might have been gaming, but there was no answer. When they walked in and found the otaku actually asleep for once, it seemed like their wishes might have actually been granted!

...But then came the actual trouble of trying to get into bed with Levi to start with. There wasn’t really an easy way to squeeze their body in past his because the tub was so dang narrow…

Any rational person might have just given up on the venture, but not MC. Whatever's possessed them to want to sleep with this awkward shut-in has a pretty good hold on them yet.

Lack of sleep might have been what gave them the bright idea to just try and lay on top of Levi veeerrry sooooftlllly…. Which is how the poor demon woke up to them halfway straddling his waist in the middle of the night.

His remarkably high-pitched scream woke up the whole dang House and the sheer amount of force he used when trying to jerk out of the tub toppled it over… Even after many apologies (and a trip to go buy a new tub), Levi still double locks his door at night to this day… 😓

Satan

Really an odd choice there, not going to lie. They’re well aware of the possibility that they could accidentally wake him and he maaaay not be the best waker (what being Wrath and all) but if it’s irrational worries that got you down, why not go to the most rational person in the House? Sounds like a perfectly logical decision, right?

That might have been what their half-baked disillusions were telling them on the way to Satan's bedroom but actually standing in front of the sleeping man was a whole other story. They felt crazy, genuinely crazy… But they still slipped in under the covers anyway.

Satan stirred almost immediately and turned to face them… but his eyes could hardly keep focus and the look of dopey confusion on his face could have honestly made the perfect screen background. "Huuuuuh…? MC…? What're you doin' 'ere…?"

They kind of had to hold in a laugh while they explained that they just wanted to sleep next to him that night. Satan beamed them an oddly serene smile and just nodded. "Okaaay…" With that he seemed to roll over to go back to sleep… but his mind caught back up with him before his drowsiness did.

"Wait a minute..." Ah shit….

Like Lucifer, Satan ended up giving them a pretty good lecture on boundaries and the like when he finally snapped out of his stupor. Thankfully he wasn't mad, just a little embarrassed that they had seen him like that. He offered them a good book or two to pass the time if they couldn't sleep, but sent them back to bed all the same.

Asmodeus

Asmo probably doesn’t get people coming into his bed with completely chaste intentions very often, but he’s by far the most emotionally in-tuned demon in the House. If they're after a little sympathy, best just go to Asmo right?

They weren't really sure what to expect when they walked into his room... Does Asmo sleep like a Disney Princess, hair and makeup done perfectly in defiance of all laws of beauty?

Does he sleep like a '60s housewife, with curlers in his hair and leftover chips of mud mask on his face?

Does he sleep like the god of all sex that he is, sculpted chest for the eyes to see and everything underneath laid bare like a honeypot of temptation??

The MC doesn't really get to know, because when they pulled back the covers to climb inside they were met by the sight of someone else's very naked ass taking up the spot where they thought Asmo should be.

They go back to their room willingly, dejected and maybe a little scarred... Apparently they were just too late to the party...

Beelzebub

Okay, everything about Beel screams “Hello! I’m a warm comforting teddy bear!”...aside from the hungry parts. It’s really not hard to see why they’d want to go to him if they’re feeling a little vulnerable.

They didn't worry too much about being quiet when they walked into the twins' room. Belphie could sleep through a rock concert and Beel wasn't too far behind him (as long as he wasn't hungry).

They figured that the tall twin wouldn't mind too much if they just crawled into bed with him… He had make a similar request of them before, it was only fair right?

As they were preparing their tired body for a good night's sleep, they gently pulled the covers back next to Beel but they probably weren't expecting to find so many food wrappers surrounding him… or bags of chips… or packages of cookies… or-

Apparently Beel had yet another sleep-eating run and this time he seemed to have brought the whole kitchen back with him. There was hardly enough room left for Beel anymore, let alone the MC!

Considering their options were to either wedge themselves between a havoc roast and a bag of jerky or just brave one more night on their own, they cut their losses early and went back to their own bed...

Belphegor

They didn’t have to know Belphie since Day One of being there to pick up on how hard he slept. The man was pretty much in a coma for most of the day and that included his nightly rests too. Would he even notice if they… per say… slipped into bed with him to get a little comfort from their nightmares? Surely, he’d stay asleep, right?

When they didn't see his sleeping form in the room he shared with Beel, the MC eventually found Belphie up in the attic room. His little hideaway with a plush-ass bed to boot.

They didn’t bother being quiet at all. They figured that Belphie could have stayed under for anything short of banging pots and pans in his ears so why try to mask their footsteps?

They never expected him to be awake. 😰

The moment they lifted the covers, Belphie struck like some kind of blanket crocodile! He grabbed them by the waist and dragged them into the spot of the bed right under him with a impish grin on his face.

Turns out they weren't the only ones having sleeping problems that night and as they felt the full weight of his worn out body settle in nicely up against theirs they knew that maybe, finally, they'd get a good night's sleep… 🤭

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me requests #obey me scenarios

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ssadumba55 · 3 years

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Binders (Looney Tunes X FtM! Reader)

A/N: Literally sorry if this is inaccurate as hell I have not started wearing a binder yet and literally have no idea what entirely happens when you wear one during sports I just wanted to write something cute. Also of course, this is set during Space Jam: A New Legacy so if you haven't seen that don't read under the keep reading thing (spoilers). I know I said a while ago I don't write Looney Tunes, but I have watched both Space Jams and fallen in love. I plan to delve further down the rabbit hole but for now my knowledge is limited to Space Jam so please be gentle if this out of character. Also you can make up a reason how/why you ended up on the team haha. I really didn't think this through I just wrote it. Either way, enjoy!

You looked at yourself in the mirror, it was the halfway point in the game and you were exhausted. You had to play like your life depended on it (because it did) but this entire thing was tiring. Not to mention you could feel the strain from your binder underneath the bright orange and blue Tune Squad jersey. It wasn’t meant to be worn during intense exercise and you were worried this whole ordeal might ruin your chances of getting top surgery.

But you couldn’t go out there without it on. You weren’t flat enough to pass and if they saw your chest there would be questions, questions you weren’t ready to answer. You loved the tunes, but they weren’t exactly the best at being discreet. The idea of being outed to thousands of people in the middle of a life or death basketball game made you shudder.

Glancing over your shoulder to make sure you were really alone, you decided to give yourself a quick break. You pulled the jersey over your head and then the binder, pulling the jersey back over your chest just in case someone decided to barge in. You could easily turn around and pretend to be busy so they wouldn’t see your chest. You sat down, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes.

The burning in your chest was still there but at least now you had room to breathe more than you had before. There was still 10 minutes of half time left (you’d booked it in here as soon as halftime was called), you just had to get through one more half-

“(Y/n)...?” A familiar uncertain voice called and you nearly jumped two feet in the air. Your arms immediately crossed over your chest.

“Daffy! Shouldn’t you be out there? You are the coach, right?” You laughed nervously, stepping in front of your binder still laying across the bench you’d been sitting on. If Daffy was here, it was only a matter of time before the other tunes and worst of all, Lebron James, noticed you two were missing.

The cartoon duck put his hands, wings?, on his hips.

“We’ve been looking for ya, ya didn’t hear tha new looney game plan. Is something tha matter?”

His question was genuinely curious. He clearly didn’t understand why you were hiding away from the rest of the group, he was just worried for his friend and you couldn’t blame him. It did seem a little weird that you were back here, hiding, when you guys were losing the game so badly.

“I- I’ll be right out, just let me finish getting ready,” you promised him, “catch me up on the way out to the court?’

He shrugged and nodded, walking away to give you your own privacy. You sighed, looking down at your binder. Things would’ve been so much easier if you’d just been born a male. You wouldn’t need to risk your body wearing this thing during sports.

You pulled your jersey over your head and began to pull the binder over your chest. Once it was back on, you could feel your body protest immediately, but you didn’t have a choice. You threw your jersey back on and headed out, checking yourself over in the mirror once before.

“Alright, guys. I’m ready…” You walked out, hands on your hips to greet your teammates, only to be met with unreadable expressions on everyone’s faces. It was as if they somehow knew what you were doing and disapproved. You only had a couple minutes before you all needed to be on the court though, so nobody said anything.

The group headed back out and you tried to match the energy, but you had to face the music. Your body was strained, even without the binder this would be a lot to put it through and with it, it was almost unbearable. You took a step toward the court to join the others, and the world felt a little fuzzy.

You must’ve fallen and blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying in a bed and somehow you’re not dead. Maybe that had all been a crazy dream. You’d never gotten stuck in a server forced to play basketball with an all powerful algorithm. You’d never worn your binder during it all, you’d never met the Looney Tunes.

For a moment you fooled yourself into believing that. And then a sharp pain came through your body.

You let out a cry of pain and the door was pushed open.

“You’re okay!” You hadn’t been expecting the Tunes to be on the other side of the door… or in this world in general but somehow seeing them made you relax a bit. If they were here that must’ve meant they’d won the game. No thanks to you, but they hadn’t been deleted. They’d defeated Al-G. Lebron had gotten his son back.

“I’m okay. What are you guys even doing here anyway?” You asked, slightly exhausted.

Daffy and Bugs both hopped on the bed, trying to fight for a spot to sit (that apparently needed to be the spot where the other was sitting). You watched them squabble for a bit before Lola pulled them apart.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt him,” she scolded them, shoving them to the side, then turning to address you.

“We were worried about you. Mr. James was really nice and let us stay for a bit so we could be here when you woke up,” she explained.

“You weren’t supposed ta be wearing that thing on your chest, were you?” Daffy crossed his arms over his own chest and you laughed nervously. They all knew. You wondered who had explained it to them.

“Look, guys. I know you’re mad that I lied to you-”

They all blinked, exchanging looks as if the thought had never even crossed their minds. Your face heated up, had you said something wrong?

“We weren’t mad about your gender, (Y/n), if that’s what you’s thinking. We’re just worried about that chest thing. They said you was wearing it the whole game until you passed out. You know that’s not healthy, right?” Bugs' ears had flopped behind his head.

You laughed nervously. “No it’s not, you’re right. I should’ve known better, I’ll be more careful next time. Sorry guys.”

They seemed to genuinely accept this apology, though they still looked worried. You prodded them to tell you what happened during the game after you passed out and they did relay it in shocking detail, you wished you could’ve been there to see it. After a while, they were ushered out so you could get some rest, Daffy hung back.

“I saved this for ya. Thought ya might want it.” He handed something tattered, it was your binder. They must’ve cut it off to save time. It had cost so much to get and it was all down the drain now. You took it, tossing it across the room into the trash can by the door. You winced as you laid down but it had gotten in and you were satisfied.

“I’ll get a new one, thanks though, Daffy.” You smiled at him and when the two of you met eyes, you could see that genuine curiosity from before. “You want to hang out here for a bit? I know I’m supposed to be resting but I feel like I’ll go insane if I can’t talk to someone.”

Daffy placed his one hand on his hip and brought the other up to tap his beak as if deep in thought, then all of a sudden, he launched himself up on the bed.

“Let me tell ya something, (Y/n). I have been working on something I can’t show tha others yet and you’re tha perfect person to try it out on-”

You felt all warm and fuzzy as he continued to ramble. There was something special about being accepted by a bunch of cartoon characters you’d looked up to for so long. Even though you were certain they didn’t fully understand, having their support and friendship meant the world.

You’d be sad when it was time for them to head back to Looney Tune World.

Oh well, maybe you could visit them sometime.

#looney tunes imagine #looney tunes x reader #bugs bunny x reader #bugs bunny imagine #lola bunny x reader #lola bunny imagine #daffy duck x reader #daffy duck imagine

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gashinabts · 4 years

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Camera Boy (m)| Part I

Words:4.5k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, MATURE, 18+

Summary: Jungkook loves filming. Jungkook takes up your offer on filming you throughout the day...and night.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, hair pulling, sex filming, slapping tits and ass, degradation, humiliation kink, mention of public sex, teasing, slut is mentioned a lot.

A/N: I haven’t posted in like months. I’m sorry for the lack of posting I haven’t been in the right mental state at the moment. I promise I will be posting more!! Thank you for the people who comment and like my fics. It really means a lot for me!!!! Yoongi, Jungkook, & Reader are the same age (18). There will be THREE parts to this :))))

Part 1 2 3

*** This is my work, no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms. I do NOT take plagiarism lightly.

Jungkook is a quiet guy, who spends his time filming and editing videos. He is in the audiovisual club and was always seen around school with his Panasonic Lumix gh5 filming the school events since he was also part of the year book club. Not many of his classmates knew him by his name but as JK, even during roll call teachers would call him by JK. His fashion taste was dark, often dressing in all black and wearing bucket hats. Sometimes he would just fade away in the background but he didn’t care.

Jungkook was editing a video for the cheer team in the audiovisual club classroom, but his fingertip halted at the mousepad when he felt a presence entering the room. He sees you walking in with your white tennis skirt and pastel green cardigan. He doesn’t understand why you would dare walk in this room. You’re Y/N, the school’s sweetheart, nice to everyone and everyone wanted to be your friend. He watches you smile and come closer to him, grabbing a chair and sitting next to him. “ Hey, Jungkook. What are you up to?,” you lean over to see his laptop screen. He smells the light floral perfume and he feels like he shouldn’t have the privilege of smelling your floral scent.

This wasn’t the first time you spoke to him, a couple times you would say hi to him during the events he filmed. But you did that to everyone saying ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous ?’, because you didn’t want anyone to feel left out. “ Uh-editing this video for the cheer team. This would be my last video I would do for this school,” he scratches the back of his head. In the next three days he wouldn’t be a high schooler anymore. He would leave this place and major in film in a college in California.

“ Cool, I really like your videos. I heard that you were going to UCLA and doing film. That’s pretty exciting, maybe we’ll bump into each other around campus,” you smile gently.

Jungkook was shocked to hear that you knew what school he is going to attend. In the back of his head he wished that you guys would bump into each other and become friends. “ Maybe...so what’s up?,” he closes his laptop to face you. Which he regrets since he won’t be able to focus on anything you say since you are so pretty.

“ I want you to film me...I want to give it to my friends as a goodbye gift,” you cross your legs. “ I’ll pay you for your hard work,” you reach into your bag grabbing your wallet.

“ No, it’s fine you don’t have to pay me,” he stops your manicure nails from grabbing some bills.

You shake your head and he watches as your diamond earrings sparkle, “ No, I insist. I would feel really bad about it, Jungkook. Your work is top quality, better than those shitty Youtubers, even better than some of Quentin Tarantino works,” you proceed to take out the money.

Jungkook eyes widen at your statement. No one has ever complimented his videos like you did. The closest compliment he has ever gotten from someone is ‘Looks good.’ Your soft hands brush his as you hand him the money, “ Thanks. We can start after I’m done with the cheer video,” he quickly puts the money in his pocket.

You get up, tugging at your skirt since it rose up when you sat down. “ Great! I’ll see you later,” you gave a small wave and left the classroom.

----

“ I’m going to start filming, alright?,” Jungkook asked as you throw some things out of your locker in the trash can.

“ Go ahead,” you smile at him. “ Look at how much stuff I have. It’s all useless stuff now,” you throw some more math tests away. He films you walking around the halls and greeting some people. Along with some chit chat, he admires the way you genuinely care about what your friends are talking about. He likes the way your hands move while you talk, and how touchy you are with your friends. He notices that you playfully hit your friends’ shoulder when they make you laugh really hard. Jungkook learns more about you when you answer the questions he gives you. He learns about what you love about your friends and how much you are going to miss them.

You invite him to your house and he films you baking a cake for Mina’s birthday. You tell him the story of how you and Mina became friends. The fondness of your voice can be heard at spreading the strawberry icing on the cake. “ Want some?,” you ask, showing him the leftover frosting on your index finger. He looks confused by what you're asking. “ The frosting. Have some,” you bring your finger closer to him.

Jungkook wonders if you know what you are doing. He could have not possibly licked the sweet frosting off your fingers. “ I-I uh no, it’s okay,” he fumbles with his camera, turning it off and hastily putting it in his bag. “ I think this is it for today,” he puts his backpack on.

“ Okay...see you tomorrow,” you walk him out of your house.

----

The cafeteria is filled with the tune of Happy Birthday, Jungkook films you as you bring the pink cake in front of Mina. Zooming in on Mina’s face, he sees the evident rose blush that turns brighter as all the attention is on her, your lips kiss her cheek as you wish her a happy birthday under your breath.

“ Jungkook, you can stop filming and have some cake,” you say as you slice a cake for him. His eyes widen and you chuckle as hand him the cake. The lunch table is filled with laughter and he feels like he’s almost part of the friend group. Some of your friends ask him questions and bring him in some of the conversation. Jungkook starts filming again and asks more questions towards your friends on what they are going to miss the most about each other. By the end of lunch he feels like he’s got good content and wants to start editing.

You walk with him towards the AV room, and you hug him just outside the classroom. He feels your slightly smaller body engulf him in your warmness. His arms are awkwardly staying by his side and his heart rate quickens as seconds pass. You pull away and smile at him, “ Thank you Jungkook. It really means a lot for you to do this.”

“ No problem. You did pay me for this…,” he awkwardly states. He wants to slap himself for always being too abrupt with you. “ I mean it was kinda fun filming you. You radiate this wholesome energy,” he tries to compliment you.

Laughing lightly you hit his shoulder, “ Wholesome, huh? I was thinking maybe we should keep in touch so we can have eachothers back while in California…” you quirk your eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders nervously. Jungkook face blanks and you quickly retract your words, “ Nevermind, we don’t have to-”

“ No, I’d like that!,” his voice raises at the end. He rubs his head, “ Yes, let’s keep in touch.” Your phone pings and you smile at a text message quickly typing away. Jungkook clears his throat causing you to look up at him, “ I feel like we have everything for the video. I should be done editing by the end of the week.”

“ Cool, I’ll see you later,” you wave at him and watch him enter the classroom.

At home Jungkook is meticulously working on the video not wanting to disappoint you. He’s in deep entrance of you talking in the video, he jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Taking off his headphones he sees his mom staring at his laptop and he closes it immediately. “ Mom! Why did you knock?,” he whines. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed, it’s not like he was watching porn.

“ I did knock but there was no reply. Who’s that your girlfriend?,” she gleefully smiles wanting to peek more at the video.

Jungkook groans and leaning his head back,“ No, just a girl. She paid me to do this video for her friends.”

She hums lightly brushing her son’s slightly long hair, not wanting to bother her son anymore she quickly states that dinner is ready.

----

Jungkook thinks you're going to ignore him the next morning since he was done filming you but you don’t. Instead you walk towards him snapping a polaroid of him and laugh at his surprised expression. “ This marks the end of a chapter to the beginning of a chapter in our life,” you tell him waving the polaroid.

Jungkook rubs his eyes from the sudden flash, “ What do you mean?,” he asked for more information for your vague providence.

The short white dress you wear waves in a similar fashion as gold hoops dangle from your ears, “ We are ending our chapter of highschoolers today but I’m now beginning a chapter with you...as in the beginning of our friendship,” you look closer at the photo smiling at his doe eyes.

“ Y/N!,” your name is called out by Chaeyong.

“ I’ll talk to you later, yeah?,” you watch him nod and walk towards Chaeyong.

Jungkook sighs and puts his headphones on and plays on his phone as he walks to his locker. He bumps into someone and he is about to say sorry but the words couldn’t come out. Yoongi stands in front of him with a glazed expression. Never in his time of attending this school has he come this close to Yoongi. Yoongi is a quiet kid, he can’t be described as a delinquent since he doesn’t start in any trouble but he does voice his opinion from time to time and teachers hate that. Afterschool he watches the football team on the bleachers smoking cigarettes with his friends. The teachers don’t say anything because it’s after school hours and honestly they couldn’t care less if he would end up getting lung cancer in his mid thirties.

Yoongi’s skin is soft and pale, and his eyes are dark, he has this intimidating aura that Jungkook didn’t feel comfortable with. “ Sorry,” Jungkook finally mutters out. Yoongi doesn’t say anything but walks past Jungkook, lightly brushing his shoulder with his. He can smell the dark cologne trying it’s best to bask the nicotine scent. Even though this may be the last time seeing Yoongi, he does not want to get on his bad side.

---

Jungkook just got out of the shower when he sees that he got a missed call from you, he calls you back curious to what you have called him for. You immediately pick up,“ Hey! Are you busy right now?”

Jungkook puts his phone on speaker, “ No, not really...why?,” he answers while putting on his boxers.

“ Just bored...wanna hangout?,” you let out a sigh.

Jungkook fingers combs through his damp hair, looking at his appearance through his bathroom mirror. He’s wearing comfortable baggy clothes and he wonders if he should dress up. “ Sure, what are we going to do?”

“ You ask too many questions. Just come over and bring your camera!” Jungkook wasn’t able to say anything afterwards because you hung up. His father was shocked to hear that his son wanted to borrow his car because Jungkook wasn't the type to hangout outside of school with his friends. Jungkook’s father was actually happy to hear this and asked if he needed any money and he politely declined his father. When arriving at your house he saw that no one else was parked on the driveway, his anxiety getting the best of him. He decided not to park in the driveway since he didn’t want to seem rude. He shoots you a text upon his arrival, and you open the door for him, greeting him with a smile.

“ My parents are visiting some family members and my sister is probably gonna spend the night with her boyfriend...so it’s just us,” you lead him to your room. He looks around your room and easily spots a minimalist aesthetic “ Sorry I just exercised. I’m going to take a quick shower,” you tell him, urging him to make himself comfortable.

Jungkook gulps and sits on the chair by your desk. He sees makeup products and some old homework assignments that you yet to discard. There are several manga volumes and decide to read one hoping that you don’t mind. He’s a couple chapters in when he hears someone calling your name and coming upstairs, he freezes staring at the door wondering if your parents came home early. The door opens and he jolts when he comes face to face with Min Yoongi.

“ What the hell are you doing here?,” Yoongi walks straight to Jungkook grabbing at the collar of the shirt.

“ Uhh-I-I Y/N-,” Jungkook stammers out, cringing at how stupid he sounds. What the fuck why is Yoongi in your room?

“ Yoongi!,” you yell at him. You come out of the bathroom only wearing a large t-shirt that covers just about to your mid thighs, your hair is still wet dripping on the shirt, and you come between the two men before Jungkook ends up with a black eye. Yoongi calms down as soon as you touch his wrist and he rolls his eyes at Jungkook gaping at the sight of him in your room. “ I didn’t expect you to come this early, Yoongi,” you look at Yoongi. You look nervously at the sight of Yoongi fuming ready to tear Jungkook's head.

“ What’s he doing here?,” Yoongi points at Jungkook.

“ I’m just as confused as to why I’m exactly here…,” Jungkook is picking up his camera bag ready to leave the house.

Your hand touches Jungkook's arm to cease him from leaving without your explanation, “ Stay please. Just let me explain,” you make eye contact with Jungkook. Nodding he sits down on the comfy chair, while waiting patiently for you to explain. Yoongi continues standing up despite you telling him to sit down too. “ I want you to film me and Yoongi,” you say confidently but there's a nervous shake near the end of your sentence, tugging nervously at the hem of your shirt, you look at Jungkook to see his reaction.

Jungkook heart races,“ Doing what?,” his voice shakes, he knows what it is but he needs to be absolutely sure.

“ Me fucking her, you idiot,” Yoongi grunts looking at Jungkook. Yoongi looks at you with concern, “ You are not doing this because of last week. Baby, I was half kidding of doing a sex tape,” he comes closer moving some of the wet hair strands out of your face.

Grabbing gently at his hand you kiss the back of his hand, “ I want to do it. When Jungkook was filming me I thought it wouldn’t be so bad for him to film us...just as long as no one else sees it, right?,” you look between Yoongi and Jungkook. Yoongi nods his head immediately in agreement but Jungkook looks hesitant scratching at his head.

“ I’ll do it. You can trust me, Y/N,” Jungkook finally says. Jungkook thinks to himself that this is the only opportunity he’ll ever see you naked so he’ll be an idiot to say no. The thought of him filming you in such a vulnerable way is erotic yet beautiful to him.

“ Really?,” your eyes widen in excitement. Walking towards Jungkook you grab his hand giving him a comforting squeeze. Yoongi sighs at your actions but you ignore him looking at Jungkook’s pretty eyes.

“ Yeah of course, Y/N. Let me get my stuff ready,” Jungkook feels your hand leave his and he goes through his camera bag. He watches you go to Yoongi and he hears Yoongi talking softly to you, caressing you as nod cutely to him. “ I’m all set,” Jungkook speaks clearly, interrupting the conversation that you and Yoongi had. “ Just do whatever you guys are comfortable with,” Jungkook gulps when Yoongi leads you to the bed.

Yoongi brings you on his lap, not hesitating to bring his lips to yours. You sigh at the feeling of his hands massaging your bare thighs feeling them move closer to your ass. The kiss grows more messier with each second, and you start grinding on him trying to relieve yourself. His hand grabs the back of your neck and he hums while forcing you to look at him. “ Who said you can do that?,” he tsk at the sight of your desparation. Yoongi turns your head whispering, “ Look at the camera.” Listening to his command you see Jungkook behind the camera and you feel more shy at Jungkook looking at you in a desperate state. “ Don’t act so coy. You like the thought of someone watching us,” he laughs lightly, his hand going under your shirt rubbing your stomach up and down not going anywhere you need him the most. “ Camera boy,” Yoongi sardonically calls Jungkook.

“ Yes…,” Jungkook replies with hesisitance.

“ Come closer to us,” Yoongi continues touching your body.

Jungkook slowly walks closer to you and Yoongi, he has the camera focus on your face and smile shyly at him. Yoongi kisses your neck leaving a few love bites, finally letting his reach to your breast fondling it as you stare at the camera. “ Yoongi, I want more,” you squirm when he pinches your nipple at your plea. “ I’ll be good for you,” you beg and turn your head so you can kiss him again. It seems like he’s done with the teasing when he pulls your shirt over your head, quickly wrapping his mouth on your nipple. Tossing your head back you moan at the feeling, Jungkook brings the camera closer to your face. It turns you on more that he’s watching you in this state.

Yoongi's mouth leaves your nipple and lets out a dark laugh, “ Look at her, she’s a whore for attention,” he slaps your breast causing you to hiss in delight. Yoongi stares into the camera “ Did you know she would beg me to fuck her behind the bleachers?” The question is more posed for Jungkook rather than the camera. If Yoongi is honest he doesn’t like Jungkook. His distaste for Jungkook started when he noticed that his girl was taking an interest in Jungkook. Yoongi would see all pretty and perfect for the camera boy around school. He wanted to punch Jungkook when he sat too close to you during lunch looking at you like a kid in love.

“ Yoongi don’t,” you whine at him for not to spill more stories about your devious sexacpades. Yoongi manhandles you, taking your panties off, throwing it to the side, and commands you to get on all fours. You love when he gets serious and mad since he takes all his emotions on you as he fucks you. His hands rub your folds spreading your wetness, the pleasure gets the best of you and you slightly drop your head down.

He grabs your hair forcing you to look at the camera, “ Look at the camera,” he holds your hair tighter. He inserts two of his fingers in your entrance preparing you and you just want him to just shove his dick in you but he always makes sure you are completely prepared. “ Fuck, look at you soaking your sheets like a slut,” he laughs trying to make you feel more humalited. “ Always making a mess. Remember when I fucked you in the boys restroom at school,” he asked. Of course you remember he fucked you from behind and he gagged you with your own panties. You shake your head not wanting to let Jungkook know that you weren’t the model student in school. Yoongi let’s a boisterous laugh, “ Really? C’mon Camera Boy won’t tell anyone, right?,” Yoongi looks at Jungkook.

Jungkook is all lost with words, he didn’t know you had this side of you. It was just twenty minutes ago he found out that he were dating Yoongi and now he finds out that you would have sex on campus. The thought of you getting fucked in the bathroom turned him on, he envisioned you trying to keep your cute little moans quite. He wondered if you went back to class as if everything was normal with cum inside you. A small part of him wished it was him doing those things to you. He finally answers Yoongi, “ I won’t tell anyone,” he gives you a look of comfort.

“ Good because I would kill you if you do. See Y/N, no need to deny how much of a slut you are,” Yoongi kisses your shoulder. Your cheeks redden despite how much of his statement is true. He lets go of your hair and you hear him rustling with his pants, turning your head you see him stroking his cock. You have the sudden urge to want to taste him in your mouth. He makes eye contact with you and you can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. Turning your head back you stare at Jungkook, noticing his pants gone tighter. You wonder if Yoongi would be open to having Jungkook join. Maybe have him jerk off at the sight of you getting fuck by Yoongi. Or have him fuck your mouth as Yoongi takes you from behind. The options are endless and you get more wetter at the dirty thoughts. Your thoughts get interrupted when Yoongi slides his cock into you. His hands grab your hips possessively fucking into you deep and slow.

“ Fuck Yoongi,” you moan his name. His thrust is getting deeper and his hands tighten as you clench around him. “ Do I feel good?,” you look at the camera.

He groans and his thrust are faster, “Shit-yeah. I could fuck you all the time,” he slaps your ass. Nodding your head in agreement, “ Your gonna miss me fucking this tight pussy? ,” he slaps your ass again. You can’t answer because he spreads your legs further apart trying to hit you deeper. Making you land face first onto the mattress. Your face is probably not in view to the camera but you don’t care, you just want to get lost in the feeling of Yoongi fucking you to obilivion.

Jungkook comes to the bed and Yoongi watches him carefully as he pushes some of the hair that completely covers your face. Pushing the hair back he can see your pretty eyes that swarmed with lust along with your plump lips leaving out moans. “ Her face was covered. I just wanted a better shot,” Jungkook tries to defend himself.

Yoongi scoffs, “ Whatever man,” and he continues to fuck you at a faster rate. Causing you to moan his name louder. “ Such a fucking slut. Prancing around in your short skirts around school knowing guys would stare at you,” his hand finds your clit and pinches it. “ My little slut,” he whispers.

You feel your approach coming “ Can I cum? Pleaseee,” you whine more with each thrust. He rubs your clit faster, and you cry at how good he is fucking you.

“Come for me,” he slaps your clit. Your eyes roll back as you moan loudly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars. You can tell that Yoongi is about to cum as his movement gets sloppier, squeezing your waist. He groans your name as he cums in you. Yoongi slumps down on you, “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whispers in your ear. You smile dumbly at his compliment. Yoongi gets up from your back, pulling himself out of you. Yoongi looks at Jungkook still holding his camera, “ You can stop recording,” he looks down and sees Jungkook sporting a boner.

“ Sorry,” Jungkook turns off the camera.

“ You’re good,” Yoongi disregards the needless apology. Yoongi hastily pulls up his boxers and pants, bending down he helps you turn around so you are now laying on your back. Leaning down he kisses you softly on your cheeks making his way to your lips. You sigh happily into the kiss. “ I love you,” he kisses you one last time.

“ No, I love you,” you smile cheekily.

Yoongi smiles pinching your nose,“ Brat.”

Jungkook stands in your room not knowing what to do just simply watching the interaction you have with Yoongi. “ I’ll have the video sent to you by tomorrow morning,” he interrupts the scene. He makes his way to his camera bag.

“ You should stay,” you tell Jungkook. Yoongi gives you a look, getting up from his position and going to your bathroom. You hear the water faucet and you assume he is getting a wet towel for you. Jungkook eyes widen, not knowing to accept or refuse your proposal since Yoongi is against the idea. “ Stay. I’ll order pizza and we can all watch movies. You know as a thank you for filming us,” you give him a hopeful smile.

Yoongi comes back with the wet towel, grabbing your shirt on the floor along with new panties.“ Jungkook, you can stay,” he looks at Jungkook. “ Spread your legs for me baby,” Yoongi kisses your knee. You do as you're told and he cleans you.

Million things are going inside Jungkook's head. Should he stay? Would that be weird? Wouldn’t it be more weird if he declined, he did see you and Yoongi naked already-- “ Jungkook what pizza toppings do you want?,” you ask while scrolling on the delivery app. He must have been spaced out for a couple minutes since you have clothes on. Yoongi is combing your hair through his fingers while looking at your phone. “ As long as it is not pineapple,” Yoongi comments.

“ Anything is fine,” Jungkook finally answers. He hears you hum and you order whatever topping you want. Jungkook puts his equipment on your desk, he decides to sit at the end of the bed not wanting to cross the line.

You finish ordering the food, laying your head on Yoongi’s chest, you stare at Jungkook awkwardly sitting on the bed. “ Come closer, we don’t bite,” you tell Jungkook. You pat beside you so he can come forward. Jungkook looks at Yoongi for permission and you roll your eyes. Looking at Yoongi, he nods his head as if to say okay. One Punch Man is playing and surprisingly there is no more tension in the room, but filled with careless laughter. The doorbell rings, “ Pizza is here, I’ll be back,” you kiss Yoongi on the cheek.

Jungkook prayed that you didn’t leave him alone with Yoongi but you already left. “ Jungkook, you’re going to the same school as Y/N, yeah? ” Yoongi asked but he still continues watching the anime.

“ Yeah,” Jungkook answers nervously.

“ Take care of her for me,” Yoongi finally looks at him.

Jungkook feels like Yoongi's words hold a deeper meaning but regardless Jungkook nods, “ Uhh-yeah okay.”

Yoongi moves his attention back to the anime once he hears your footsteps.

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odos-bucket · 3 years

Text

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 1

The thing about Dick is that he has a way of making people feel comfortable around him. It probably comes from being a performer, certainly comes in handy when he becomes a vigilante, and later an older brother. He puts people at ease. It’s a skill that he can manipulate to his advantage, but not necessarily something that he needs to put effort into; it’s kind of automatic. People have a tendency to talk and act around Dick as if they’ve known him their whole life. Which can come in handy, sure, especially as he gets older and fine tunes it along with his other abilities.

But he doesn’t receive the same automatic comfort from others that he gives off. And especially as a small child, strangers talking to him, coming into his personal space, or touching him without permission can be overwhelming, and disconcerting.

At Haly’s it had been something he’d kind of dealt with, but usually only within the deceptively controlled environment of pre or post show adrenaline, and always as a single member of a large company of performers. He was honestly barely consciously aware of it back then.

For the most part it doesn’t even really bother him. Dick likes people. He likes interacting with circus patrons, and later with fellow guests at the events that he and Bruce attend. He likes attention, likes it when people want to watch him do a cartwheel (even if he feels like they’re way too easily impressed).

Dick doesn’t understand what’s happening when he feels himself suddenly start to shut down towards the beginning of a charity gala for the Gotham hospital. He likes people. He likes parties. He’s never been bothered by crowds. He should be fine.

But the ladies who are crowding and cooing over him are making him feel trapped. And the band that’s fighting with each of the dozens of different conversations that are taking place in the room for every individual’s full attention is giving him a headache. The lights are so much dimmer than the big top’s, but somehow still way too bright. He keeps finding himself needing to rub at his eyes.

Dick tries to politely extricate himself from the women he’s been talking with, but they seem reluctant to let him go. He’s “such a charming young man,” after all. And it isn’t often that the socialites of Gotham are “graced with the company of a performer of his caliber.”

Dick smiles, and tries not to flinch away from a woman who pats his cheek. He’s not sure why the contact bothers him, normally it wouldn’t. But he’s not himself right now. Maybe it’s because of how hot it is. He’s not feeling right in his skin, all sticky, and prickly.

He doesn’t realize how dazed he’s become, until the sound of someone saying his name is shaking him out of it. No one’s actually said his name in a while, mostly it’s been variations on “honey” or “dear”. Sometimes they’ll call him Richard, hardly ever Dick though. But Bruce is calling him Dick as he approaches through the moderate crowd, and that gets his attention right away.

The ladies have the good sense to at least shift out of the way, and soon Bruce is kneeling down in front of him.

“Hey, chum,” he says softly. “You’re looking a little wobbly there. You doing okay?”

Dick doesn’t know why, but when he opens his mouth to answer something between a whine and a sob comes out. Confused and embarrassed (and exhausted, although he doesn’t quite know to identify that one) he pitches forward on rarely unstable feet, and smashes his face into Bruce’s shoulder.

He’s caught in an instant, and lifted up into steady arms, a hand coming to rest at the back of his head.

“Hey, shh. . . it’s all right.”

Bruce’s voice seems to fade, blending in and out of the rest of the muttering conversation that they’re surrounded by. Dick’s not bothering to hang on for any of the specifics of what he’s saying. Something about “being able to tell when a child is exhausted,” and “not treating my son like a performing seal.” If Dick had been more alert he may have thought to wonder ‘since when does Bruce have a son?’ but as it is he’s barely aware enough to pick up on the poorly concealed anger in his voice.

A moment later he can feel himself being carried.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles.

“I know, sweetheart,” is the last thing he hears before passing out.

---

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Dick says later, after they’re back at home.

Bruce frowns, and pauses his gentle stroking of Dick’s hair.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he says, more carefully than Dick is able to pick up on.

Dick scrunches his nose, and flings his arms into the air, before flopping them back to the couch.

“Why did I get all weird tonight?!” He demands.

“If I had to guess,” Bruce says slowly. “I’d say you were tired, and maybe a little overwhelmed.”

Dick makes an annoyed noise, that morphs into a wide yawn.

“I should have noticed,” Bruce continues. “We shouldn’t have gone-“

“No,” Dick interrupts. “But that wasn’t my regular me! I don’t get overwhelmed!”

“Everybody gets overwhelmed. And you’ve had a long week, lots of late nights, that math test on Wednesday-“

“Do you?” Dick interrupts again, saving Bruce from needing to continue to prove that he’s tuned into what’s going on in his life (something which Dick is becoming increasingly aware of Bruce feeling the need to do).

“Do I what?”

“Get overwhelmed.”

Bruce considers the question with a deliberately thoughtful expression.

“I’m very good at hiding it when it happens,” he finally says.

“Oh. . . okay.”

“Dick, you know there’s nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed.”

“Then why’d you bother to get so good at hiding it when it happens to you?” Dick asks without missing a beat.

Bruce doesn’t have an answer for that. Years later he’ll find himself wondering why he didn’t take the time to make it clear to Dick that hiding his emotions like that isn’t something he ever expects of him. He’ll catalogue it as one of his many failures as a parent. In the moment he just holds himself awkwardly under the child’s expectant, if slightly bleary-eyed, gaze.

“Sometimes you have to do things to keep in control of a situation,” he finally says.

Dick turns big eyes up at him.

“I want to get better at it.”

You don’t need to, is what Bruce should say.

“You’re already pretty good at it,” is what he does say.

Dick makes a contemplative face.

“You weren’t the problem tonight,” Bruce continues. “Those grown-ups should have been able to tell that you were tired, and left you alone.”

“. . . You’re mad at them,” Dick realizes.

“Yes,” Bruce admits readily.

“Oh, okay. I thought that maybe. . .” Dick trails off into another yawn.

Bruce frowns down at him.

“I didn’t want you to be annoyed at me,” Dick says sleepily, adjusting himself so that he’s leaning more fully against Bruce’s side.

“Why would I be annoyed with you?”

“I’dunno,” he half says, half hums.

Bruce’s frown deepens.

“Do you worry about that a lot?” He asks quietly.

He feels the responding shrug more than he sees it.

Dick mumbles something about not wanting anyone to be disappointed.

“You’re not responsible for keeping other people happy,” Bruce tells him.

Several seconds pass with no response. Bruce is about to ask for confirmation that Dick realizes this, when a soft snore informs him that the time for discussion has passed. Instead, he goes back to running his fingers through his ward’s hair, and begins a mental list of people not to let near his child.

#batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman and robin #batman #robin #dc #dcu #my writing

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Novelty

Jiang Cheng doesn’t speak much. One would think that would mean that people listen even more to him when he does say something, but one would be wrong.

Jiang Cheng learned very early on that no one cares about what he has to say; it didn’t start with Wei Wuxian’s arrival, but it certainly didn’t help either.

Wei Wuxian is a chatter box; there’s always something he has to say, no matter if it’s of sustenance or not but no one ever seems to care. People are listening to him, and they indulge him and that’s really all that matters, isn’t it.

Not so much with Jiang Cheng. If he says something without sustenance, people get bored and tune him out; if he is asked a question and he starts rambling on, people lose interest and move on.

So Jiang Cheng didn’t only learn to keep silent most of the time, he also had to learn that he has a very short time window in which people will give him attention. Attention usually comes together with eye-contact, and Jiang Cheng learned to make the most of that.

So he doesn’t talk much, and when he does his answers are short and on point. It seems like everyone prefers it that way, and Jiang Cheng learned to accept it.

His gruff nature helps him with this, actually, because people expect him to be taciturn so no one questions it much.

Jiang Cheng thinks his parents are glad he doesn’t talk much, because that means they don’t have to give him too much attention and Wei Wuxian is talking enough for two, so he mostly doesn’t notice if all Jiang Cheng contributes to a conversation are some grunts and hums.

It works for them.

Jiang Yanli—now things with her are a little bit different. She tries to get him to talk regularly, never taking for granted that Jiang Cheng simply doesn’t want to talk or has nothing to say, but her attention is so easily snatched away by Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to talk with her either.

Sometimes he will try—because he can never help himself, always hoping that maybe things are different now, that she will listen to what he has to say—but before he can make it past the two sentence mark, Wei Wuxian will chime in and Jiang Yanli will give him an apologetic look and then the moment is gone.

It happened often enough that Jiang Cheng gave up trying with her too.

It’s okay that no one wants to hear him talk; it’s not like he has anything interesting to say anyway.

A tiny part of Jiang Cheng hoped that things would change in the Cloud Recesses, but since Wei Wuxian is still always at this side, everything stays just the same.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian don’t share a room here at least—Jiang Cheng feels bad for being relieved by that but he can’t help it—so he gets some time to himself, but it also means that Wei Wuxian can get up to all kinds of shenanigans without his supervision.

Shenanigans he desperately wants to share the next morning, so Jiang Cheng learned to expect Wei Wuxian to crash into him on their way to the hall where they’ll take breakfast.

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng, how are you?” Wei Wuxian cries out, just loud enough to attract the ire of a senior Lan disciple who is walking in front of them and Jiang Cheng elbows him in the stomach.

“I’m fine,” he gets out, right before something else catches Wei Wuxian’s attention and his eyes slide away from him.

These days Jiang Cheng is proud that he manages to say even that before something snatches Wei Wuxian’s flighty attention away from him, though he doesn’t even get the chance to ask Wei Wuxian how he has been doing.

He’ll probably tell him all about it, anyway.

“Huaisang!” Wei Wuxian yells, waving his arm so Nie Huaisang will definitely notice them, as if there’s any chance that someone could miss Wei Wuxian.

“Jiang-xiong, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says and flicks open his fan. “Why are you this awake, it’s too early to be this awake,” he then whines and Jiang Cheng has to hide his smile with a frown.

He likes Nie Huaisang; he’s fun to be around, and he’s not half as lazy as he wants everyone make to believe and Jiang Cheng is curious to see how far he’ll take his rouse.

But Nie Huaisang is just as enamoured with Wei Wuxian as everyone else is, and Jiang Cheng is under no illusions that he’s just accepting Jiang Cheng’s presence as inevitable.

“It’s never to early to be awake, especially not when you can do so many new things here,” Wei Wuxian says and Nie Huaisang sighs.

“Jiang-xiong, you’re more sensible than this right? How are you?” Nie Huaisang asks him, but before Jiang Cheng can even answer, Nie Huaisang looks at Wei Wuxian who took the opportunity to throw his arm around Nie Huaisang’s neck, and Jiang Cheng knows there’s no reason to answer now.

No one will hear him anyway.

“Listen, Huaisang, how about we meet this night?”

“You mean after curfew?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to snap out at that, because he doesn’t want to be kicked out of the Cloud Recesses before he even had a chance to learn anything, but Wei Wuxian only waves him off.

“I’ll get some alcohol in, and you’ll bring the snacks, how about it?” Wei Wuxian goes on as if Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything at all and Jiang Cheng turns away from them.

No amount of protest will make Wei Wuxian change his mind and Jiang Cheng is too exhausted to try. Wei Wuxian will get into trouble like he always will, and Jiang Cheng will bear the brunt of it, like he always will.

It’s stupid to expect anything else, just because they are not at home at the moment.

“Don’t count me in,” Jiang Cheng mutters, more to himself than to Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang who are still talking to each other, and then he picks up his pace to get away from them for a bit.

Classes are fine, mostly; Jiang Cheng would love it if Wei Wuxian could manage to not cause trouble for five minutes, just so that Jiang Cheng can learn something and doesn’t always have to feel like he needs to be defending his shixiong but Jiang Cheng never gets what he wants and so he has to watch as Wei Wuxian sticks the drawing of a turtle on Lan Qiren’s back.

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth at that, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s unwilling to draw even more attention to it, and it’s not like Wei Wuxian ever listens to him anyway, so what’s the point.

Wei Wuxian still manages to get thrown out of class and for all that Jiang Cheng hates himself a little bit for thinking it, he’s glad about it.

At least like that he gets to enjoy half of the class uninterrupted.

When class finally ends, Jiang Cheng intends to study the parts of class he missed before due to Wei Wuxian’s shenanigans, but before he can leave, Nie Huaisang catches up to him.

“Jiang-xiong,” he says and leans into his space. “You didn’t answer before. How are you?” he asks him, his face for once not hidden behind his fan, and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng tells him, waiting for the moment when something else catches Nie Huaisang’s attention.

But the seconds tick by and Nie Huaisang keeps looking at him as if he’s expecting Jiang Cheng to say something more and Jiang Cheng’s frown deepens.

“What?” he bites out, because attention like this is never good when it comes to Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang flutters his fan.

“You’re not a man of many words, are you?” Nie Huaisang asks him and Jiang Cheng tenses at that.

“What does it matter?” he snaps out. “It’s not like anyone is listening anyway,” he lowly tacks on, but it seems like Nie Huaisang still picked up on it.

“Wei-xiong does get a bit much sometimes, right? You can barely get a word in. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to live with that,” Nie Huaisang muses and now Jiang Cheng is openly staring at him.

“What do you mean?” he carefully asks because he cannot believe that Nie Huaisang picked up on something no one else noticed before.

“It must be hard talking on to Wei-xiong all day long,” Nie Huaisang softly says, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s mood.

“Maybe I don’t like talking,” Jiang Cheng says but Nie Huaisang’s eyes tell him just how believable he is.

“Don’t you?” he asks and Jiang Cheng looks away from him.

It’s the first time in a long while that someone is paying this much attention to him and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he no longer knows how to deal with that.

“What do you want?” he brusquely asks instead of answering Nie Huaisang and Nie Huaisang is silent for long enough that Jiang Cheng fears he already lost his attention again.

It would be just like Jiang Cheng’s luck.

“I want to know more about you,” Nie Huaisang says, catching Jiang Cheng completely off guard with that answer.

“There’s nothing to know about me,” Jiang Cheng snaps at him but when he turns around to look at Nie Huaisang again, he’s still staring at him.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Nie Huaisang says, and there’s a calculating look in his eyes. “You were very interested in the history part of the lesson today, right? I saw you listening. Are you interested in history?”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him, because no one asked something like this about him before and Jiang Cheng is unsure how to deal with that.

He distantly wonders how long Nie Huaisang will insist on pestering him, how long it will take for Nie Huaisang to talk right over him, but Nie Huaisang waits patiently for an answer.

“I am,” Jiang Cheng eventually gets out and watches as Nie Huaisang lights up.

“I know a lot about the history of my Clan. Do you want to swap stories? I know almost nothing about the Yunmeng Jiang history and I would love to learn!”

“I don’t think we’ll have time for that,” Jiang Cheng mutters, because he’s not going to stop studying just because Nie Huaisang wants to talk to him.

It’s beyond flattering but Jiang Cheng is here to learn.

“What about tonight?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng immediately frowns at him.

“Wei Wuxian wants to drink tonight,” Jiang Cheng reminds him because clearly Nie Huaisang already forgot about that.

“But you said you don’t want to be counted in, so I figured you’re not going? And I’d much rather spend the evening with you talking about history than drinking with Wei-xiong and then getting punished for it,” Nie Huaisang says with a shudder and Jiang Cheng stares openly at him now.

“You heard that?” he asks, beyond surprised that Nie Huaisang even heard him and now it’s Nie Huaisang’s time to frown at him.

“Of course I did. You were talking so I was listening.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to do with that information at all, and so he simply turns away from Nie Huaisang and starts walking away.

“Jiang-xiong!” Nie Huaisang cries out and rushes to keep pace with Jiang Cheng.

“It’s Wanyin,” Jiang Cheng says, keeping his eyes on the path in front of him, because he’s beyond embarrassed but Nie Huaisang makes a delighted noise.

“Wanyin!” he says with excitement and Jiang Cheng feels himself flush bright red. “I insist you call me Huaisang then!”

“Why would I?” Jiang Cheng grumbles but secretly he is very pleased by the novelty of this whole situation.

“Because we’re friends now, and you can’t take it back. I want to hear all you know about your Clan’s history!”

“Mark your words,” Jiang Cheng threateningly says. “I know a lot.”

“Good. I love history.”

Jiang Cheng does too, but no one knows about that because no one was paying attention to him. And Wei Wuxian certainly does not like history at all, so why would anyone care beyond that.

“I like it as well,” Jiang Cheng lowly admits, for the first time out loud and Nie Huaisang gently bumps their shoulders together.

“I’m happy we get to share our knowledge then. I bet Lan Qiren also has some book recommendations for us,” Nie Huaisang muses and Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen.

“Why would he give them to us?”

“Because he loves people who like to learn,” Lan Xichen suddenly says from behind them and while Jiang Cheng has too much self-control to squeak in surprise, Nie Huaisang does not.

“Lan-xiong,” Jiang Cheng greets him, elbowing Nie Huaisang to fall into a bow and Nie Huaisang scrambles to follow his lead.

“I’m sorry, I overheard you talking,” Lan Xichen says with a gentle smile. “I can point you towards the right section in the library tomorrow, if you would like that.”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang immediately says and so Lan Xichen turns to look at Jiang Cheng.

“We would. Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says, surprised that Lan Xichen wasn’t satisfied with just Nie Huaisang’s answer but it seems like today is full of surprises.

“See, I told you,” Nie Huaisang whispers to Jiang Cheng who desperately tries to shush him.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lan Xichen tells them, still smiling as he walks away from them.

“He really is the most gentle one,” Nie Huaisang mutters behind his fan. “My brother did pick well.”

“Your brother and Lan Xichen?” Jiang Cheng asks, one eyebrow raised and Nie Huaisang flounders.

“You didn’t hear anything!” he rushes out. “They are not—official yet.”

“It’s not like anyone listens to me anyway,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug at that, and he only has a moment to notice the pained look that flashes over Nie Huaisang’s face.

“I am listening to you,” he says and it sounds like he just made a decision too. “Will you spend the evening with me?”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he truly is looking forward to talking about history with Nie Huaisang. “But I make no promises about Wei Wuxian.”

“He’s not welcome,” Nie Huaisang grumbles. “I don’t like how he ignores you,” he then tacks on, much quieter than before and Jiang Cheng goes all warm at hearing that.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says, just as quietly as Nie Huaisang and he shares a smile with him.

Maybe having one person listening to him is already enough. It certainly feels like it to Jiang Cheng.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #friendship #gen #hurt/comfort #fluff #insecurity

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Spring breeze part.2 — Spencer Reid

Gif by @ssadrreid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.1 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I was very happy with the return you guys had in the first part💖. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️ Couple:Spencer Reid / Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Spencer straightened his tie for the hundredth time in front of the mirror, in several unsuccessful attempts to exhibit his best that day. It was funny and ironic how, after so many years wearing dress shirts and a tie, the universe seemed to handpick that day to do - no matter how much Spencer tried to fix it - his tie looked weird. The fabric was too far to the left, or too far to the right, or too wrinkled in the folds. No matter how much he undid the knot or changed his tie, still looked strange.

What a nightmare.

Reid was barely able to sleep with the notion that he would see you today, his body being whipped assiduously by unsettling waves of euphoria, his mind whizzing like a propellant, anxiety screaming in his mind and sending his sleep for miles away. That morning, the world seemed to be more stuffy, hot and torrid, and for a second, Reid felt himself under the heat of Egypt instead of autumn in Washington.

He could feel his heart speeding up with the steps of the clocks, his breath running away from his lungs, a thousand and one speeches being revised in his head to try to lessen the likelihood of speaking some bullshit near you. Because he couldn't ruin that chance.

Spencer knew he was not the type of guy to have dates whit women like you every day. In fact, Laila had been the only stunning woman who had looked at him a second time. But, well, to be honest, he knew that all that affection she had directed him had been side effects of the transfer. He had been her hero and it clouded people's rationality. And, to his disquiet and to the dread of his insecurity, you were above the beauty of Laila on stratospheric levels.

To make matters worse, the damn tie wasn't good! God, he was screwed.

Spencer gave up on that impossible mission, settling for and conforming to what the tie looked like after the twentieth attempt. He wanted you to see him as a handsome person, a man worth wasting time with, not a boy who only served to be your friend. You were beautiful on so many levels that... well, Reid wanted you to be attracted to him, too, to simplify.

He stepped away from the mirror and slung his work bag over his shoulder, trying to control the pounding of his own heart.

On the way to work, trying hard to avoid thinking about what him looked like in that damned imperfect tie, Reid wondered, for a moment, if you too were under the same emotions. Did you change your clothes several times because you also felt anxious too? Could it be that, like him hands, yours also trembled? Or, if he was lucky, was your heart beating as hard as him?

He hoped that was yes.

As soon as he entered the BAU headquarters, with anxiety as his chaperone, Spencer sat at his own table while pouring a “Good morning” to his colleagues.

“Arrived early.” Derek narrowed his eyes at him, in that suspicious look.

"I am never late." He was quick to hit and that caused his friend to raise an eyebrow.

"But you never be anxious to get here earlier."

Sometimes Spencer hated that his friends were profiles.

“I just like my job.” Reid started to unpack things of bag, trying to avoid the look of Derek who was still burning his back.

“Oh, I'm sure you like.” The double meaning in his friend's tone did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he did not want to delve into the truths of that argument, much less think about it.

Emily and JJ arrived after a few minutes, with Garcia following behind and making their point that she was not to blame for buying those pairs of shoes, since they were practically begging her to take them. Normally, Reid did not look at the glass door whenever he heard someone approaching, or had a strong desire to see Gideon pass through them as well.

But that day... that day, seeing Gideon meant seeing you. And seeing you meant that you would go through that door. And going through that door meant that Spencer would see you come in. That was enough to make his gaze turn to those doors from minute to minute.

But time passed. Fifteen minutes flew by, then twenty, then thirty. Anxiety increased and now his agitated heart was tuned to his right leg, which did not stop quietly, shaking from top to bottom assiduously.

“What do you look for at the door so much, Reid?”

Prentiss asked the last question that Reid would like to answer, and that caught Derek’s attention, who, as expected, laughed amusingly and sank further into the chair, a sly, playful smile on his lips.

“Oh, he is expecting a member of the Gideon family.”

Spencer swore and, in that moment, he was never so jealous of ostriches for being able to stick their heads underground. If he were one of them, he would definitely do it.

“I'm not expecting Y/n.” he said, whit voice higher and thin than usual.

“But I didn't say it was Y/n.” Derek laughed and Spencer felt his cheeks go red.

This time he gave up hitting back, his let out a bad mood murmur and turned forward, forcing himself not to look at the door anymore. From that moment on, Spencer focused on focusing on the pile of reports in front of him, forcing his brain to disconnect from the things around him and concentrate on matters that demand his all attention.

The hours went by, faster this time, the case-free day was being used to finish late reports and giving the team time to recover the nerves and breath of the last case.

After noon, Gideon still hadn't arrived and Spencer started to feel slightly fearful. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket and dial Jason when JJ appeared, handing over more piles of reports to they that required to be finished today.

Derek gave a loud curse of annoyance, muttering something and back to writing again. Emily was used to the paperwork bureaucracy, but from the bittersweet and dissatisfied look on her face, Spencer knew that no one there shared the same delight him had with paperwork. He also knew that Morgan was exhausted because he had remodeled a property yesterday and was barely could to sleep, and Prentiss felt overwhelmed because she was dealing with problems with her mother and with the bureaucracy policy that Strauss pressed against her.

Then Spencer looked at the file stack itself. There was a lot of paperwork, but the amount of reports he would finish in two minutes was three times what his friends would finish in an hour. He leaned forward, looking over the table to see Emily and focusing Derek better in his field of vision.

“Do you guys want to give some reports? I finish faster anyway”

They agreed without hesitating or pretending modesty. Reid laughed, saying that his friends would owe him one, and went back to work.

After that, when Spencer finished the reports and lifted his head from the paperwork, the light in the world had dimmed to a dark blue hue, streaked by small, bright stars.

The breeze coming in through the large glass windows was fresh and invigorating, the scent of the night's wonderful promises was reminiscent of your perfume. And then he realized that neither you nor Gideon showed up all day. Something about him withered, the euphoria diminished until it became as small as the stars outside. The clock struck seven at night when Spencer got up and put his things away, millions of feelings buzzing in chest.

The unsettling sense of concern began to take place than had previously to been emotions of anxiety and excitement, and he pondered whether to ask Hotch about Gideon or to call himself. Reid looked around, looking under his colleagues, who were packing up to go home, and going up to Aaron's office. He could still see his figure under the marble table, the light from the room underscoring the serious and concentrated expression he directed to the documents. The air in that room looked different, maybe more dense, maybe more serious. But Spencer knew it was best to let Hotch do his own thing.

He ran the tip of his tongue over the corner of lips, reaching into his pocket and reaching for his cell phone.

“Hey, Reid." he turned toward Morgan, that signaled them to go to the elevator.

“Did you speak to Gideon today? Or did you hear Hotch say something about it?” The question came after he reached Derek, both of them walking out the glass door.

"Is it Gideon you're worried about or... his daughter?” He laughs shamelessly, pressing the elevator button.

Spencer stumbles over the words when says: “Wh-What? No. I'm just worried about him. It has nothing to do with… ”

As soon as the sentence was about to end, the elevator doors open. Instead of the usual void or presence of someone from the FBI, Spencer felt catatonic when he saw the female figure inside.

You.

In a burst, like a strong wind that blows and pushes things away, Spencer was struck by all the feelings and sensations that had been bubbling in his stomach all day. Euphoria, anxiety, insecurity and... animation. Suddenly, he was worried again about how he would look, what he would say, if he was presentable enough for you to look at him with... Well, Spencer didn't know how he wanted you to look at him, but he wished it were something that guarantee your affection.

He wanted to be something that excited you, that made your heart race. Just like his was now.

"Y/n...” He did not recognize his own voice. The intonation.

"Hey." You smiled genuinely, and it was able to make Reid's heart beat so fast that he feared you could hear. “I'm sorry I didn't show up and neither did my dad.”

“No problem at all.” He was sincere “Did something happen? Are you two okay? ”

The concern in Reid's voice was so palpable that you losing your breath. God, that man couldn't be real.

“I just remembered that Garcia is call me." Morgan tried to swallow a big smile “It was good to see you, Y/n.”

“Me too, Morgan.” You gave him a hand gesture that, for Reid, was lovely.

Spencer put his arm in the elevator door, preventing it from closing.

“Will you want to leave?” Always as solicitous as a gentleman.

“Oh no.” Now it was your cheeks that were softly red. “I came to see you actually.”

If nothing that had happened before was not enough to steal Spencer's breath, your sentence completed the mission. He put himself in an elevator, pressing a button and letting the doors close.

"I was going to bring my dad today, but ... well” You laughed “To put it succinctly, my dad has a list of things he wants to do before he dies, and one of them was rollerblading”

You and Spencer laughed. Half because he would have laughed at anything you said to see your smile, and half because he couldn't see Gideon having such a list. But he liked it. The feeling of knowing that Jason was having fun, enjoying life, not letting that job rip off all of his humanity, was comforting, joyful.

“Why do I feel this is not going to end well?" He joked too and you laughed.

“Because it doesn't end.” Your fingers ran through your hair “We ended up going to a place that had this, before he have work today, and he ended up twisting his ankle when he fell.”

You tried to no laught, because it was not something to play with, but after the fright passed and your father and you were entangled, they both burst out laughing. And now, reliving that, you didn't remember the hurt itself, but how great the fun between the two of you had been.

“He is fine?" But Spencer had a worried flash in his eyes.

“Oh, yes, the doctor said there was nothing much. He just needs to get some rest.” You smiled “I was going to call, but one thing led to another and when I saw it, it was too late to call. So I thought about coming in person.”

Spencer was known to have a photographic memory and a very high IQ, but at that moment, if then asked what you had just said, he would need a moment to remember. For the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment was the certainty that your smile could light up the whole of Washington. How your eyes held the stars' syntax and how the energy that emanated from you was... cheerful.

He realized that you were a cheerful person, outgoing and with an innate ease of making friends. You had that special touch that made people and the universe orbit around you. And Spencer knew it was one of the planets captured by your gravity.

"It is very sweet of you to come here to tell me that.” He smiled, but then realized what he had just said “N-not that you owe me any explanation! I just-I think it's cool that you worried and…n-not that I waited for you but… not th-that I didn't expect you too and...” Spencer stopped talking, giving up trying to find the right words to get him out of the mess he got himself into.

At times like this, Reid was used to people just dropping an embarrassed nod and leaving, or ignoring the avalanche of things he said. But as soon as the tone of your laughter echoed through the elevator and snaked through him body like a wave of energy, Reid looked at you more closely. You didn't give that embarrassed look, nor did you look sorry for him. You laughed lovingly and touched his arm.

"I was also looking forward to seeing you.” You summed up all of him thoughts in one sentence and freed him from all fears.

"Serious?" But disbelief was still present.

The elevator door opened and the two of you got out, walking to the exit of the building and being greeted by the cool, comforting breeze of the night.

“Yea.” You said as if it were obvious, “What do you think about going to a movie? It's not too late. ”

If Spencer had been told a few weeks ago that in a few days he would be on a date with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he would have scoffed. He would have thought it was a joke with a background of evil. Going out with girls was not on the list of things Spencer did regularly, but he was thanking any confusion or mistake the Universe had made to accidentally placed you with him.

To be honest, with you on his side, with you with him, Spencer felt like he had won in life. That all those years of school and university, when he only saw beautiful girls from afar and dreamed of what it would be like to have one this girls interest in him, had dissipated into the air. Dissolved in the breeze like smoke. During all the hours of film, the joyful and ecstatic conversations you both had after, Spencer could feel the connection in the air. Naturally, kind of magical.

Did he know you two days or two decades ago?

You told all of your adventures, all of stories, and listened carefully to every ramble and phrase Reid had to say. He felt, for the first time, completely important. As if everything he had to say was valuable as a diamond, rare as a tropical treasure.

He felt comfortable, relaxed, cheerful.

And when, at the end of the night while the two of you were walking along the lively and vibrant streets of DC, you took his hand and intertwined yours fingers, Spencer never felt so alive.

He had been born twenty-four years, but only now did he really feel what it was like to be alive.

tagged: @gublersuvula @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr.spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #derek morgan #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg fluff #mathew gray gubler #mgg x reader

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shozaii · 3 years

Text

title: under the spotlight.

genre: fluff!

characters: monoma, shinsou, tamaki.

request: Can I get Monoma, Shinsou and Tamaki headcanons with a rockstar s/o? They have alot of fans that think their voice is really hot and they're really popular. - @cinnamon-joonie

a/n: ehehe helloooo!! i finally get to work on your request after a very, very long time!! apologies for the terrible, terrible delay and i really hope the wait was worth it!!🥺🥺❤❤

masterlist.

now monoma has two feelings about this.

one is that he’s super duper proud of you, and sometimes he even questions just how lucky he is to end up with someone as popular as you. you have such a beautiful talent, wowing endless crowds - even your flaws were flawless to him. knowing monoma, he is the kind of person to make fun of everyone he sees; specifically his rivals.

he would have to admit, he had once seen you as a rival until you revealed your true identity to him. it’s time for you to take the spotlight.

and it’s time for him to let everyone know just how amazing his lover really is. some of the ways he does that include asking you to sing in front of his classmates, play a guitar, talk about how your day went, etc, etc.

here’s another feeling of his. despite being the confident, flamboyant boy that he is, sometimes he can’t help but ponder over the fact whether you truly do love him or not.

don’t get him wrong, he truly loves you. but it’s sometimes where he worries if there is anyone among the crowds who looks better than he does, has better taste than he does, heck. what if they have the same interests as you, but so much better?

he wouldn’t tell you about this either. which is why reassurance is very important in your relationship with him.

collects every. single. ticket of every. concert. you have performed in. will put it in an album, make a poster, have pictures/recordings on his phone, studio versions of your albums....hardcore fan.

monoma is your biggest fan you cannot convince me otherwise. PLEASE imagine him sitting in class, looking through your photos (while bragging about it) before class starts

he’s happy for you okay🥺

oh my gosh this boy, he’s so precious :’(

he has many, many questions for you! asks you about your vocal range, wants to know how you control your voice, wants to know more of the instruments you play, looks through your wardrobe🥺

SO PRECIOUS

“don’t strain your voice too much, okay?” or “do you need me to get you anything?”

always, always checking up on you. maybe you have a tendency of getting bruises while you’re on stage because well, accidents happen. the more he notices them the more he becomes anxious of what’s going to happen on the next stage performance

he needs a lot more reassurance compared to monoma and it’s okay! it’s his first time dating a wonderful rockstar like you and he needs to know more about your lifestyle <3

being a hero means being noticed a lot while patrolling, so he understands the flood of crowds you two often get in. most of the time he looks down or he thinks of them as potatoes, but when any of your fans ask him questions, he’d take deep breaths before answering. his confidence has grown a lot more ever since you entered his life🥰 he wants to make you proud🥺

he usually requests for a lot of covers, because at times he’s not in the right mindset. hearing your voice makes it all feel better though! especially when he’s by your side. he needs you to lull him to sleep. best experience he’s ever received.

he tears up watching you perform. knowing how far you have come just by singing, and reminiscing the time where you told him about how it all started, to seeing the current moment he was in, with a really big audience.

how could you ever ask for more oh my god T_T

“i’ve heard a few tunes of yours. they’re really catchy.”

very, very chill about it when he realized you’re the rockstar he constantly listens to. on repeat. definitely didn’t tell you at first until you two got closer.

inside he’s freaking out !!!

shinsou’s music taste is quite unpredictable. according to him, any kind of genre makes him happy. but it’s your music which makes him the happiest. it helps him get through his darkest days, motivates him to train. the number of times he has listened to you while trying to develop his quirk😤💕

i have a slight headcanon that he has a melodious voice, so maybe he might as well send a cover or two of your songs!! he may know a little about guitar, so he’d refer to you as well for guitar lessons.

almost considered opening up a fan account.

he does get a little stressed over the paparazzi swarming over you - he thinks you deserve a break from the amount of peer pressure you receive from just the music industry. so this is where he comes in.

he takes you to places where no one would find you that easily, he knows his ways <33 most of them are surprises, so prepare yourself for the best!

some of your fans may or may not have swooned over your boyfriend but all he does is ignore them - he’s still in a state where he couldn’t believe you’re dating him

“i don’t really say this as much but i’m very, very proud of you.”

kisses before you perform🥺 if he didn’t have the time he would blow you a flying kiss as you’re on stage.

he’ll make sure you get lots of rest, but you also have to make sure he’s right next to you - we all know his sleeping schedule :’)

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Okay rockstars, settle down

rockstar!bucky barnes x assistant!reader x rockstar!loki laufeyson / masterlist

summary; having previously worked for loki, it causes a heat to burn within bucky’s already accumulated hate towards the musician / warnings; threesome, smut, mxf and mxm sex, mentions of sex with other characters, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, double penetration, degradation, swearing, orgasm denial, cum eating

“Can’t believe you worked for that wanker.” Snarked Bucky as an image of the well known, musically spread, and acoustically acclaimed, Loki Laufeyson was shown on the screen of the dressing room television, as the other artist stretched his clothing bare arms across the back of the couch. “Come here sweet cheeks.”

At his command, you dismissed the paper work for a moment, trailing over and straddling the inked hunk’s chain belted lap, digging your manicured set of nails into his shoulders, as you seated yourself over his crotch. “I’m happy I work for you now Buck, you treat me so good.”

Punctuating your words, you pressed your teeth into your bottom lip, giving it the appearance of being more plump, as you batted your dark eyelashes up at your employer. “I do, don’t I?” He rhetorically asked, skimming his fingers across the length of your arms, before moving them to sloppily cup your jaw, ensuring that you would not look away from his wild and dilated pupils. “Tell me what I do better than the lead singer of the god of mischief.”

At his words, a small yet peaceful contortion of uncomfortableness split a skin grafted line through the centre of your forehead, stating that you had no wish to do so. And thus, as punishment for your self aversive silence, Barnes braced his knuckles into your skin, causing you to keen out, and tap his shoulders in verification for surrender.

In turn, you lowered your hands, dragging the tips of your nails, absentmindedly running them down the expanse of his waxed chest, conveniently passing the silver hoops that were attached to his nipples on the trail to a less dominant ground. “I prefer the way that your songs have a heavier bass and-“

“Uh uh uh, not the music. Think of something that has you, let’s say, screaming, but definitely not in a crowd. Though, we may have to try that one sometime; show the world how hungry you are to assist me.”

“You, James Bucky Barnes,” he loosened his grip to your relief, which lead to you hugging in spite, “are the best fuck I have ever endured. Loki has nothing on you, he deems himself a god of the arts, but he doesn’t see how you paint me so perfectly with your cum, nor how you bend my body to your whim, as though I am a tool in the midst of your creations, useful, but disposable.”

“I like the sound of that doll. Disposable, now that really does you make you sound like my personal cum dump.”

“That’s was certainly interesting to listen to...”that voice had your body jolting in shock, and it appeared that Bucky too was surprised by the presence, though, he steadied his well versed hands on your hips, claiming you to the intimate spot.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room you greasy haired weasel?” Bucky sneered, his nose turning up at the sight alone of his competition in the lyrical world. Loki, he had graced you with his presence, and you had to look away; he admittedly looked good.

His shirt was open chested, leaving you with the memorable impression of all the times that you had left crescent marks upon that particular surface, a few times you had even drawn blood, but that had only fuelled his mission to fuck you into a propeller of urgency.

“Our new album Laufey has just been released, I can confirm my dear, you shoulda stayed around and knelt in our success. The records are certainly going to have more sales than what was it called again? Ah yes, the red star. I could tell it was about this one, so much passion, a sultry tune, that did little to justify what it means to be with her.”

Loki’s hands waved around as he spoke, and you could only picture the past whence he penetrated your with those long and talented fingers of his. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you, resulting you to be nothing more than a withering mess, as he digressed the option to simply stop. There was nothing simple about him, nor the time that he demanded that he shared you with his brother.

That thought alone had you mindlessly grinding upon Bucky’s covered cock, plucking at your lip with the keys of your teeth, though Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to pause your movements embarrassingly, venting a clear out of your head to process the situation that was before you. The two were bickering like two teenage girls, and it was quite exhausting to listen to.

“Answer the question trickster, else I’ll have you fed to the infamous black panther, and let’s just say that he is the best bodyguard I have ever hired. So, are you going to speak, or will I have you dragged out of here like a damned serpent with a noose around its neck?” Bucky threatened, gritting his teeth together, his nose straining in frustration, drawing more attention to the small stud on the right side of his nose.

“Looks like she needs me Barnes, perhaps your reputation does not proceed you. But to answer in full, my band have made quite the rise, and I thought it would be... fitting to pay you a visit. Though I had no idea that this wonderful woman would be here, pining on your lap like some feline in heat. I see she’s fucking you now, after all my suspicions are never wrong. Or we’ll, Heimdall’s train of thought always ends up at the right station.”

“Can the pair of you stop, for one goddamn minute!” Your hands obscured a path into your hair, as you glared back and forth between the pair of rival rockstars. “I am here, dammit! Stop talking about me as though I am not here, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t so I didn’t have to listen to your bitching.”

Without any thought, you clambered from your perch on Bucky’s lap, walking towards the raven haired gentleman, pointing your finger in his face as you accused him. “You’ve got your point across, but I’ll tell you something. If you don’t leave, Heimdall will see me putting my foot up your ass.”

“Does she speak to you like this Barnes? I thought she had loosened up in more ways than one when I allowed Thor to stretch her cunt, but it appears that that mouth of hers has gotten a little out of hand also. You should do something about that, or else you’ll lose her to someone else like a did. Who knows, could be Romanoff, heard she has a thing for brats.”

Natasha Romanoff, a diverse woman in her ways and songs. She was the queen of the rock culture, tormenting her workers with her verbal abuse and it would undoubtedly be no different for her assistant. If you were to be under her employment, it was certain that you would not get out alive, nor work for another talented person for the rest of your life. To cross her, was a vow to sign your own death certificate, it was plain stupidity, yet people still hustled with her and her limits, resulting in their chances of ever getting hired for any job, vastly slim to none.

At the lack of defence that Bucky provided you, you felt small, your shoulders slacked as you were tortured with Loki’s cold and silky gaze, more so when the man stood up, pressing his bare chest against your back. You could feel the rings that hung off the buds that adorned his chest coil and dig into your back, shrouding your demeanour substantially.

A part of you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to abuse Loki’s face with his fist, specifically the right, since it was the bearer to a chunky silver ring. It’d leave quite the print, however, the unexpected unravelled as his enquiring tone was aimed not at you, but Loki instead.

“You let your brother fuck her, hmm. Maybe she should learn her manners by being shared, that way her retrospective spattering of bullshit may be contained, to a limit of course.” It was unbelievably, you could not believe that Bucky was conferring with the enemy! And not only that, they were talking about experiences of having you literally become speechless from their unprofessional administrations upon your body. “I’d get T’Challa in here, but I know she’s already fucked him. Can’t quite fire him for it though, because who could ever say no to those pretty eyes, and that mouth, god, it is definitely one of her most persuasive attributes.”

“Bu-“ you didn’t even get to finish imploring his name off your lips, about to defend yourself and your previous actions, though, you were interrupted, starved from the opportunity of coming up with an explanation.

“No.” Loki told you, the roles now reversed as he was the one with his index finger aimed at you. He tapped your nose with it, as he began to pace in the room, his wild locks remaining in their place as he spun, before facing Bucky, a sly tranquility of a truce veining out from the pools of his evergreen orbs. “You don’t speak a word to me y/n, not whilst I’m having a conversation with James here.”

James. It was too far a polite way for him to address your boss. They were all hot and ready to tear out each other’s throats a moment ago, and now here they were, having a silent conversation without your inclusion. It had you reeling your mind as to why, until Bucky gathered your hair in his hand to the side, sliding you y/h/c locks over your shoulder, and finally deemed it acceptable for you to hear his voice.

Though, he still was not directing his tensive words in your direction. “Since you had dealt with this subordinate behaviour from her, perhaps you’d like to join us; help me train her to become more...” His breath fanned your the top of your ear, making your skin crawl by not only his warm and inviting breath, but also the offer that he had supposed to the other man.

“Obedient?” Loki asked in turn of his wispy ended offer of optimism, his leather, sharp tipped boots taking a prominent, heart clenching step towards you. He reached his finger out, grasping a loose strand that had fallen out of Bucky’s grip and before your face, tugging lightly on it, as his lips came dangerously close to your own. “Rules aren’t your forfeit, are they my dear? The best assistant I ever hired, with all those unique ideas floating around in that independent head of yours, but you’ve always been troublesome. I remember the time that you bit my cock that day you had attitude. I reckon Bucky here could do a better job.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” You hissed as said man tugged on his handful of your hair, instantly making you regret your phrase in the moment. To a halting surprise however, Bucky released you, lightly shoving you to cause you to fumble forwards, and away from him.

“Maybe I will.” He dared, earning a nod from Loki, whom seductively began to unzip his loose trousers, as Bucky descended to the ground, his hands running up his rival’s thighs, as the material dropped around Loki’s ankles. It would seem, that he had gone commando, and as Bucky grasped Loki’s shaft, you felt a pull in your chest inherently demanding that you play some part in this fornication.

“Wait.” Your hand shot out, as though you had some force to stop them from continuing with their war path to exact all of their developed spit onto you. “What about me?” You were ss

“Oh no doll, you are not pulling any strings here, if you wanna do something useful, come here and warm my cock, you can watch me blow your old associate.” A slither of a whimper fell from your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you were prying towards, but you sure as hell were not going to refuse the contact that Bucky was obliged to give you.

Thus you wandered towards him, your pinkies curling around one another, as you sashayed to the ground beside him, watching as he paid Loki no mind for a moment, ruthlessly in a desperation fuelled motion, unbuckled his thick belt, and shoved the material of his leather trousers to be held accountable against his lower thighs, just above his tense knees.

He too, as their exteriors supposed, had forgone the extra layer that kept his cock tucked away, though it was exposed as he tugged those tight trousers down, and the sight of both his and Loki’s cocks bobbing in the same vicinity had you close to quivering.

It was somewhat of a dream portrayed in the viscous space of reality, the two men half undressed in then proximity of yourself, it was something that you had always imagined, even before you had left Loki’s side, and opted to work for Bucky, but the idea was definitely short lived. They hated each other, but apparently they were willing to put all their issues aside to prohibit you from freely running your mouth.

Bucky’s cock twitched as he patted his own thigh, ordering you without the aid of his voice to commence it as a servant’s throne, or in your case, a stool for you to rest on as he tended to intimate needs of the man that you had once worked for. Finally, with the decision of better judgement, you allowed your grey jumper dress to slide down your body, leaving you nude, and the aspect of the two men’s unforgiving and locked gazes.

“No underwear, and you wonder why your men have no difficulty in her allowing them to fuck her.” Bucky took ahold of his cock, squeezing his cock with one hand, whilst his other aided you in sitting on his muscular legs, as he lightly growled up at the opposing rockstar.

From the stiff grip that Bucky affirmed around his sceptre, Loki gasped, his pale lips instantly shutting once the sound wantonly abandoned him. The last thing that he wanted was for Bucky to see him in vulnerable poise, though with that said, it’d be rather difficult considering the smutty circumstances.

Bucky took Loki’s long, alabaster prick into his mouth, starting from the primrose tip and descending down, reciprocating the action that you did yourself as you sheathed yourself onto his cock, but instead with his lips. A grunt rendered along Loki’s length as the man bit back a whimper, the vibrations running through his veins like a transpiring pulse of sorcery.

Bucky opted for bobbing his head, as you endured the liberation of his very slightly gyrating movement inside of you. Though, despite him being almost completely still and leaving you full to the brim with his thick length, his balls resting against the partition where he was delved into you, you remained transfixed.

The motion image, recording first hand through your own eyes, of him blowing Loki was sinful, but you were drawn to it. If that made you a sinner, one endorsed by the graphic scene, licking your lips from the sight of Bucky running his studded tongue up the length of Loki, dipping the ball of silver metal into his slit, then so be it.

Your heart raced as you were met with an opportunity. A globe of saliva, strung by the lapping muscle of Bucky’s tongue dropped down; you practically saw its fall in slow motion. It was done before you could register your actions, you had leant forwards, catching the trickle of spit in your mouth, thinking not for a moment as you gulped the subjective liquid down.

Bucky’s pace increased, he gagged lightly as he jolted him further down his throat. Loki hummed, harshly grabbing Bucky’s dark brunette locks, biting his lip as he reimagined your little catch. It had him feeling close, and just as he was about to finish, precum furiously pooling out of his tip, Bucky pulled back, a smirk marking his features.

“You’re not cumming in my mouth, I don’t mind sucking dick, nor swallowing, but I have to practically listen to you jizz over your own talent, and prowl over my girl.” The name he labelled you with had your heart fluttering, but not nearly as much as when he lightly pulled out of you, infuriating you with the lack of any pleasurable esteem. “Don’t you worry babes, you can finish with me inside of you, like always.”

That used to be him, Loki thought with a brewing rage in his chest. Though he instead shrugged out of his dull patterned striped shirt that was already loose on his shoulders. The fabric hit the floor, leaving all of you barren to the subject of nudity.

“Always doesn’t suppose the past Barnes.” Loki stated, referring to all the various times that he had found refuge in your spongey walls, you willingly clenching around him, and pleading for him to hit a deeper spot within you. “And I do not prowl, I don’t need to. The evidence is there between her legs, coiling in juices surrounding her ever so willing folds, that are prepared to endure the harshest of penetrations.”

“What are you trying to do, write a fucking song about this?” Scoffed Bucky, rolling his crystallised orbs at the guts that this man had. If he so much as wanted to, he could stop this passage into a three way all together, but he did not, at least he had yet to. He was enjoying the way that you were squirming to yourself, thinking that he didn’t notice, squeezing the sides of your thighs together in an aroused matrimony.

“A fucking song would’ve the correct term - literally.” Was the affirmed words of Loki, as he shoved Bucky to be sat beside you, tilting his messy brush of crazed hair, his untrustworthy eyes drifting to you. “Who’d you want to fuck you, you fangirling slut?”

It was truthfully a difficult decision. “Both.” You admitted, your bones jumping as Bucky pinched one of your erect nipples, continuing to hold a sturdy clasp of his pads around the sensitive flesh; you couldn’t jut choose one of them. Not when they were both in such close range, bore in nothing more than their birthdays suits, talking about your quivering and diversely accepting cunt.

They knew that you couldn’t possibly refuse one or the other. You were vastly too hungry to be filled like you had never been before, shagged by two of three most well known artists in the industry, earnestly and mindlessly earning yourself a title within the circle of uptight yet simultaneously chill performers.

Perhaps, if Bucky we to ever potentially fire you, there would be another pursuer for your articulating talents on standby, awaiting for the moment that you walked out of his complex door to swoop you up as though they were a predatory falcon, flying off into a stationed sunset, those around seeing you as nothing more than a shadow of the ambient orb, but the one who had employed you finding you to be a sufficing inspiration.

Large hands swallows your hips, firmly controlling their angle as they grasped you in their strong, almost super human hold, lifting you so that you were tentatively tucked in a reverse cowgirl position on Bucky’s lap. It was the third time that you had been this close to him, it would almost be intimate, if your legs weren’t strewn in an open, all revealing splay, so that Loki could see your boss tease his tip around your entrance before sliding you down his length, extracting a strong wail from your churning throat.

Your own hand resented down, applying swirls of pressure down on your clit; it appeared that they were willing you to continue without interruption. Bucky lightly, despite the power that he was promoted to in this position, began to bounce you on his shaft, spewing small mewls out from your agape mouth.

Fisting his cock, Loki approached, Bucky reachin this seen hands down to spread te lips of your pussy, so that the other man was guaranteed a crude glimpse of you being stufffed. Though, you weren’t quite filled enough, for Bucky raised a brow and prompted Loki to allow himself to be pulled closer by your axed and whining aura.

He brushed his tip languidly against your buzzing clit, dragging through your slick and jab i at your delicate fingers before probing at the base of Bucky’s cock, and pushing inside, right along his rival’s length, the pair moaning out in a pleasured union. On the other and, you had tears falling from the crescents of your eyes, the stretch so much that it was a blistering pain to your cunt.

“Don’t go all meek dear, you and i both know this is far from the first instance where you’ve had more than one cock in this nasty, betraying cunt of yours.” Loki taunted, gripping the vulnerable expanse of your throat from behind, his icy glazed skin sending provocative shivers down your spine, making your pussy pulse from the chill that ran through your body.

And then, i a split instant, both cocks began to piston into your walls, as though you were nothing more than a rag doll, meant o be thrown around and handled in a disorderly fashion. They ere ruthless, groaning out symphonies in the cursive air around you, as your walls engulfed their pricks more than snugly.

You felt so wide down there, they were taking a pirating toll on your body stealing every breath that dared wither from your lips, tweezing their nimble fingered around various parts of your body, all in due retrospect or coerce you into fucking them back, making all actions in the mass of bodies a mutual effort.

Loki lowered his head down meeting Bucky for a sloppy, brash kiss. It was clear they were simply doing that part to fulfil a greedy desire in your stomach, but you were not one that minded. It was, like the rest of their frenzy of collaborations, a competitive mess. They nipped harshly at each other’s lips, ravenously all in the meanwhile ploughing your body with their har girths.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your tongue dribbled, earning satisfied, lust induced smirks from both parties that were currently penetrating you, making you writhe harder against their lengths a new flow of moisture weeping out from your hole, lubricating their movements further, it encouraging them to do nothing more than continue what they were doing, despite their better judgements.

The truth was, they were rockstars. They had no better judgement, which is why everyone like them needed someone like you. Their thought were clouded with one mission, and for once in their spent lifetimes, it was not to beat the others, at least not to a certain extent anyways. It was their assignment, delivered by their own hands, to bring you to the edge, and that’s physically what they reformed to do.

One of them were groping your nipples, whilst the other confined the same treatment to your ass cheeks. Loki found your Rocky enables of positive feedback to be icicles and they were beautiful, he stared at them, as though they were divine ploys extracted from the mythical kingdom of Jotunheim, their residence in the realm to be the peacemakers of all bountiful creatures, much like himself and Barnes.

A rich euphoric groan exuberated from Bucky as he allowed himself to spoil, but he tutted whence he watched Loki’s features suppose that he was to follow shortly behind. “Not inside of her.” Bucky growled, sufficing Loki to roll his eyes, and pull out, the man behind you furiously replacing your hand, rolling our clit in his grasp until a sinful scream enveloped the air, commencing them all to the fact that you had just came.

Loki found the show to be unfair, and instead, spilled his priceless seed onto the huffing skin of your stomach, you eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling pooling onto you. You leant back, drawing your neck into a crooked angle as you swiped your tongue wordlessly over the piercing on Bucky’s right nipple, metal providing a relief to the heat that your body was and had been swarmed with. “ Last chance you’re gonna have t taste her sweet cunt.”

“You do certainly have some faith in this one Barnes, but I do doubt that it will be the last instance in which i am todo so.” His silver tongue pried at your cum soaked flesh, drinking up all the essence that you had to offer, onshore the flavour that Bucky had brought to the table, i the form of a succulent drizzling of Snow White cum.

As Loki finishes swabbing his tongue over your cunt, Bucky adoringly kisses you, much sweeter than he has before. It was sort, and almost chaste, but his blue eyes roamed your face, delicately observing the high points of your face, that were covered with a sheen of great force making you as he would put it, glow.

The pair of you weer exhausted, there was still some swollen was to his lips from where he had sucked off Loki. His hands cradled you around your waist, his feet kicking Loki back as you whimpered from opaque sensitivity. “I guess that was you bidding me a dew.” Sneered the trickster, fishing for his clothes, as he spared you a spark filled glare, to which you ignored.

Once he was situated back into his attire, he left the sex scented room,a hollow smirk chapping his lips as he strutted th a purpose out into the hallway, taking a left instead of a right, and creeping into barnes’ studio to see what the man was working on in the midst of his enduring tour/ He was always the trickster, and nothing different was to ever be expected out of him.

“That was good.” You mumbled, rubbing your ode lovingly across the scruff that coated his jaw. His fingers made small circles upon your tummy, humming contently as he remained sheathed inside of you. He had to admit, he preferred it when it was just him, but his lonesome, sheathed within your walls, feeling the small trembles of your walls around him. It was practically heaven, and he would say so if he believed in such a place.

A deliberate knock ruined the moment, as the man entered,he quarrelled with himself where her to casually look in the direction of the pair of you or to avert his sight around, and blankly at the all. “What is it T’Challa?” Grumbled the man inside of you, quirking a thin brow at the timing of his presence.

“Loki; he managed to get into ur data, and he’s leaked a whole bunch of your music.” Of course, Loki would not come here to simply gloat, there was alas something extra up his green sleeve, and now it was revealed.

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky made a move to stand, but instead prohibited a whimper out of you as hi ships jutted angrily tip on instinct. “Get Odin on the phone, we’re going to have a little chat about his slippery hands son!” Barked Bucky, prepared t do anything to bring his greatest threat down, compiling him into the put of hate industry, until he was forgotten about, unable to ever produce new music again.

“Talk to Sif.” You whispered, becoming the image of his assistant once more, even if his cum lathered cock was prevailing within a rut of required stress relief, growing in the conjunction of your wall with his body guard there. “She loathes him, and rightfully so. He got her kicked out and she has dirt on him that nobody else has ever heard. If you want to take I’m down, she is your in.”

The strict tone grammatically supported by your logical information was definitely turning Bucky on again. He could handle you more than fine without Loki’s aid, he was just a means to an end, as it was clearly shown in his priorities.

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