#so here’s me trying to put him back on that track lol

[flawssy-227]

The Beginning | a Joel x Babysitter fic

pairing: joel miller x babysitter!reader

wc: 2.6k

summary: how you start babysitting for Joel and Sarah.

warnings: no smut, still 18+ pls!, no outbreak!au, Sarah lives!au, small unspecified age gap, longing, small feelings developing, mostly written in a couple of hours and poorly edited lol, moldboard was hastily created by me to reflect ~vibes~, not physical characteristics

a/n: s/o @saradika-graphics for the dividers. still dusting off the cobwebs, but thank you to everyone who read part 1 and left feedback. I think I will keep writing for this pair–– less of a 'series' and more so vignettes of their lives. feel free to lmk what you would like to see next. and let me know what you think :)

You rolled your neck slowly, trying to release the tension that had been building up the last few hours. You had been working at a bookstore in downtown Austin all summer, trying to get acclimated to your new city before you start your grad program and to help earn a little cash as a cushion–you knew you were about to be way too busy with long readings and lengthy essays to work the inconvenient shifts here.

It should’ve been an easy gig, working at an independent bookstore. You really thought you would enjoy it when you got the call saying you’d been hired. The hours were nice and the environment was warm, earthy and classic Texan. It got slightly busy on the weekends and in the evenings, and there was a small coffee bar that attracted teens and students alike. It would be totally fine if it weren’t for your dick of a manager, Todd.

He was in the middle of lecturing you about cleaning the espresso machine and labeling the milk, just for you to remind him that it wasn’t even your job, and that Erica, his assistant manager still hadn’t trained you on the bar, insisting that despite your previous restaurant experience, that operating the espresso machine was a little out of your wheelhouse. You tried to resist the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes at his droning when you saw a little girl with gorgeous curly hair walk into the bookstore alone.

You tracked her movements as she maneuvered around the store comfortably and found the history section, tactfully looking over titles before her eyes brightened in recognition as she reached for a hardcover that was comically large for her small hands.

Todd was still yapping in your ear, asking if you understood what he was saying, prompting you to let out a halfhearted yup and a silent wish he would leave you alone. You looked at him, offering a half hearted customer service smile, one that probably got you the job in the first place before mumbling something about restocking some returns.

You made your way over to the little girl who was now sitting in the reading nook in the back of the store, golden Austin sunlight highlighting her face.

“Hey,” you offered, making her look up. You notice how she cautiously tracked your face, glancing down at your employee lanyard before she relaxed the slightest bit. “What’re you reading?”

She lifted up the cover so you could see. “Hidden Figures.” She stayed silent after that, curiously waiting to see if you would speak more.

“That’s a good book,” you responded. “Ever seen the movie?”

My dad says I gotta read the book before I watch the movie,” she replied, eyes rolling the slightest bit, making you both giggle.

“Oh,” you laugh, “your dad is one of those?”

She nods eagerly, guards lowering a bit. “Used to not be,” the girl shrugs. “I got put into the gifted program for school this year though. Think he’s pushing me.”

Gifted made sense. What kid her age was comfortable enough walking into bookstores on their own to grab non-fiction history novels and talking to strangers? You sure weren’t that way.

“Where’s your dad anyway?” you finally ask. The store was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon but you weren’t too keen on leaving a girl her age to fend for herself.

The little girl was just about to open her mouth before a man who appeared to be in his 30s stood before you both. You could see his chest moving up and down, like he had run into the bookstore and was trying to get his breathing under control. He looked upset and irritated and it immediately put you on edge.

“Sarah,” he hissed, completely ignoring you and looking at the girl you were chatting with. You assumed this was her dad.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he scoffed at her. “I told you we could walk in here when I finished up my errands. Stop bein’ so damn impatient.”

Sarah was completely unperturbed by his tone, essentially disregarding it. It was honestly comical how bothered he was and how little she seemed to care. “Sorry, dad,” she offered, a brilliant smile on her face, one you were sure got her out of trouble more often than not. “Just came to grab the book.” She flipped over to the cover, just like she did with you moments earlier. “Made a friend.”

At Sarah’s gesture towards you, her dad focused his attention on you for the first time since walking into the store. You offered a shy smile and stood up from the nook before you offered him your hand and introduced yourself. 

“Joel,” he said back, eyeing you in the same suspicious way Sarah had when you first greeted her. 

Some genetics, you thought to yourself of the similarity, but you tried not to let his intensity get to you. He was gorgeous, broad shoulders stretching indecently across a threadbare grey t-shirt and big hands tucked coolly in a perfectly worn pair of Levi’s. His brown eyes were intense on you, making you avert your gaze as you felt heat creep across your cheeks. Dammit, he was attractive. 

“I was just keeping an eye on her,” you offered, not getting a response in return. “I should, uh, get back to work,” you respond after a minute, the stare and silence from Joel just a bit much to handle. “Enjoy the book,” you say to Sarah, before walking away and trying to remember what the hell you were supposed to be doing.

“C’mon hon, VIP section right here!”

You had let your roommate, Avery, convince you to go drinking with her tonight. You’d been in Austin for a couple of months but you hadn’t gone out too much. Instead, you were focused on your annoying little bookstore gig and working through the massive reading list you were assigned before you started your first semester. Plus, outside of Avery, you didn’t really know anyone in Texas.

You looked at what she had just referred to as the ‘VIP section’ and scoffed. She wasn’t too specific when she invited you out tonight, but looking at Avery and her trendy gold jewelry, slinky outfit and YSL purse, you thought you might be going somewhere a little bit nicer than the sticky dive bar you were currently in. 

You scoffed and swiped the crumbs from the cracked leather booth before you slipped in. “Some VIP,” you mumbled.

Avery quirked a smile at you. “What was that? Austin’s latest transplant isn’t a fan of what we have to offer?”

You rolled your eyes at her goading. Despite not hanging out much, you did really enjoy living with Avery. You had been randomly placed together via some roommate matching app and you were surprised at how it had worked out so far. She was clean and respectful. She was out a lot, but never really brought the party home. As far as you knew, she was Texan, born and raised, but this girl was bougie. She did barre classes in the mornings and wore designer pieces to work. You just could not understand why the hell she dragged you to this dive bar.

“No,” you scoff. “Just wondering if this is the place you’re always raving about.”

She hummed quietly, like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to spill, before a cute server came by to grab your drink orders. You finally took a look around the dive, disregarding the kitschy and chaotic decor that has probably been here since before you were born, noticing the patrons. Mostly men, a mix of what appeared to be the most attractive male models cosplaying as blue collar workers and others who looked like they were just in an episode of Yellowstone. It was kind of insane, you’d never seen this many attractive men in one place before. You got it now.

Avery is almost giddy as she watches you take in all the guests. “See anything you like?”

You both laugh. “Okay,” you sigh. “I might understand why you like this place so much.”

“Not only is everyone here so fucking hot,” she giggled. “But the drinks are sickeningly cheap.”

You and Avery were having too good of a time, laughing and tipsy enough before you made your way to the pool table, convinced you wouldn’t embarrass yourselves. A few guys had checked the two of you out, another anonymously even bought you a round of drinks, but no one actually came up to either of you to speak. It was mildly disappointing but you suppose that’s what the apps are for.

Avery was focused on lining up her next shot when someone put two quarters on the table. “I got next,” he smirked.

He fit in exactly with the other patrons of the bar. Tall, dark and handsome. He actually looked a lot like the dad you met at the bookstore the other day. Just leaner, with longer hair and–

“Here’s your beer, Tommy.”

Your breath hitched at the sight. There he was. The dad from the bookstore. Joel. He looked the same, just a little more flushed, like he had spent all day in the sun. He finally looked at you and froze before quirking a small smile in your direction.

Next to you, Avery squealed and embraced the man who had just claimed the pool table.

“Tommy!” she exclaimed, letting herself be picked up and spun around. “Missed you,” she said as she nuzzled herself into his neck. You focused your attention on the two of them, trying to convince yourself you didn’t feel the heat of Joel’s stare. 

How the hell did Avery know these guys? You were looking at her quizzically, trying to remember if she ever mentioned a boyfriend to you, just as he set her down. Avery reached for you without fully releasing her hold on the man.

“Babe, this is my friend Tommy and his brother, Joel.”

You shook Tommy’s hand and then did the same to Joel. “Nice to meet you,” you said, giving each other a knowing look.

After a round of pool where you and Avery quickly lost against Tommy and Joel, the two of them offered to grab another round for everyone before they disappeared for a while, leaving you and Joel tucked into the same cracked booth where you started the night.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, being left to sit next to Joel while Avery and Tommy did whatever it was they were doing while they should’ve been grabbing your drinks. He had been funny during pool, a little different than the concerned and irritated dad you met over the weekend. You couldn’t help but notice how relaxed he looked when he smiled. Beautiful, really.

Trying not to stare too long, you broke the silence. “So,” you offered, “how long do you think they’ll be?”

Joel chuckled dryly, rubbing a hand down his face and glancing to the bar. “Well,” he took a sip of his beer, “I wouldn’t hold my breath waitin’ for those two to come back. ‘Specially since they ain’t nowhere near the bar.” He smiled at you, and dammit if it didn’t make your heart beat a little bit faster. “You’ve known Avery for long?”

You shook your head, taking a small sip of your drink just to give yourself a distraction. “No, I just moved in with her like two months ago. Actually moved to Austin two months ago. Brand new.” You smile shyly at his appraising gaze.

“Well if there’s anyone to be a part of the welcoming committee, it’s probably Avery. Swear that girl knows everyone and everything in this town.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, I’m kinda getting that sense.” You took another sip of your drink. You were happy you didn’t have to work the opening shift tomorrow with how strong and cheap these cocktails were. “Maybe she can help me find a different job.”

“Really?” Joel asked. “Not likin’ the bookstore?”

You shook your head no, offering him a half hearted explanation about your manager being a bit of a prick and the hours not coinciding with the school schedule you just got. “But it’ll be fine. I just have to be patient and wait for something that’s a better fit.”

Joel nodded, trying not to be obvious as he watched the way your lips pursed around the little black cocktail straws, or how you let out a happy sigh at the sweet taste of the mixer. He thought back to how Sarah kept mentioning how nice you were when they left the bookstore Saturday, asking him why he wasn’t nicer to you, why he had been so stand offish, and then promptly adding that he should’ve asked for your number, much to his chagrin. She had been really wanting him to start dating again. He had to give it to his daughter, you were really pretty, gorgeous even, and definitely sweet. Smart too, if you were going to graduate school at UT. Sarah had a better understanding of his type than he did. But he didn’t have time to date, not right now. He and Tommy finally started their own contracting business, and between liability insurance and taxes and 1099s and the customer service aspect of it all, he had been swamped and a little overwhelmed, if he was being honest. He could use some help, personally and professionally. He only came out for a drink tonight with his brother because Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house. 

He paused for a moment and thought about how he was going to need a little more assistance with Sarah at the start of the school year. He knew some of the other parents at her school had nanny’s who did the pickups and drop offs that were at incredibly inconvenient times to anyone who actually had a job. He had been reliant on his mom and some of the parents of Sarah’s friends to help him pick up the slack for far too long. He decided not to think too hard and just ask. He needed help with Sarah. You liked Sarah. Sarah liked you. That’s all this was. Definitely no other reason he was even considering this.

“You know, Sarah really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Really?” you ask, smiling at the memory of his daughter from your brief encounter. “She was really sweet. Smart too.”

“Yeah, listen, I could use some help with her starting in a few weeks.”

“Oh yeah?” you questioned. “What? You want me to babysit?”

He smiled bashfully at you. “Honestly? Yeah. She liked you, a whole lot, and I could use the help a few nights a week,” he shrugged, taking another pull of his beer. 

Would you ever consider, uh, babysitting?” The worst you could do is say no, he figured.

Your face turned in surprise. You were intrigued at the idea of seeing Joel again, but this wasn’t exactly the context you had in mind.

“Babysitting might not be the right word for it. Maybe, more like a nanny,” he added. “Only if it works with your school schedule,” he said finally, trying to read your expression as you thought about his offer.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he didn’t ask you out for dinner or at least a coffee. Babysitting. You could use the money though, and something a little more flexible than the bookstore. And hanging out with Sarah while you did your readings for school didn’t sound too bad. Why the hell not? 

You smiled up at Joel, brown eyes peering into yours. “You know, me and Sarah will probably gang up on you, join forces and take over your house.”

Joel grinned at the idea, flashes of you in his house, acting like you owned the place with Sarah smiling next to you filling his head. “I won’t mind darlin’. I won’t mind at all.”

[akkivee]

once again thinking about my ideal 3rd drb match up and how it’d stack up with plot beats and so far all i got is

🔴💥⚪️: true hypnosis mic opponents, maybe jakurai ends up on a side for further development to save yotsutsuji and that’s against ichiro’s current goal

🔵💥🟠: haven’t quite figured out why, but rei vs samatoki is the angle i’m thinking about

🟡💥🟣: all plot stakes division vs no stakes division lol idk really but i’m leaning towards a bonds angle or if hypmic wants to be real freaky, the side effects angle 🤔

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 15: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should purchase some new shoes for himself while he's in the city...

~

It costs quite a bit of coin, but in the end he decides that having a new sturdy pair of boots will serve him well on his travels. After he's done in the shop, he rushes back to the local inn before nightfall, eventually settling into a somewhat restless sleep..

The next morning, he orders some cheap vegetable stew from a food stall, then lounges in a park as he has his breakfast, watching the squirrels weave through flowering trees and birds pecking about in the dewy grass.. When finished with his meal (and sufficiently recovered from the emotional turmoil of burning his tongue on the soup), he quickly sells his old pair of shoes to a sketchy pawn shop before finally getting back to his journey...

By his calculations, if he he walks all day, it should only be two more sleeps before he gets to his destination, so he sets out to travel as efficiently as possible. He doesn't have the money to rent a cart, or the skill to ride a borrowed horse, but, he does have some fancy new walking shoes and a renewed sense of purpose. No more meandering through fields looking for flowers, napping in the shade, or scanning the ground for cool rocks.. He's going to focus this time!

......After a few hours, he comes across a broken down carriage in the middle of the road, with few people surrounding it, seemingly stuck trying to repair a wheel or something. It's hard to discern from afar..

Maybe if he helps them, he could get a free ride.. or some coins.. or make a new lifelong friend! Who knows? Possibilities flood his mind, this is what adventuring is all about! Wandering into interesting situations and making the most out of them!! .. But, then he recalls his previous oath.. he's supposed to focus today and not allow himself to sidetracked.. And who says he has the skills to help anyway? It could always just be a waste of time... Hmm...

What should he do?

~

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:���) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[deerlino]

Hey hey hey

Can i please request producer!grumpy! Chan x producer! Sunshine! Reader? Enemies-to-lovers?? Like chan has a bad first impression on reader and doesn't like her but like they get put together for work and he falls in love?? Can you make it really fluffy and domestic at the end (like they're in a r/s and like they kiss and cuddle alot????)

thawing the ice.

bang chan x fem!reader / at first, chan really didn’t like you and had a bad first impression of you. but then, you got teamed up for a project. spending time together changed everything, and he found himself falling for you.

additional tags / grumpy producer chan x sunshine producer reader (i mean… i tried. 😭), fluff, domestic fluff, forced proximity, mutual pining, workplace romance, love confessions, love-hate relationship, dislike to lovers — 1.5k words in total.

content warnings / kisses, smooches, and cuddles

authors notes @ anon / hey heyo anon <3, thanks for the awesome request! loved writing this. you asked for enemies to lovers, but the enemies part kinda fizzled out while i was writing—not my strongest trope, lol 😭 still, hope you enjoy it !! <3

You glance at your watch, groaning internally. It’s barely eight in the morning and you’re already heading to the studio for another day of work. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that you were going to be working closely with Chan. Again.

It’s not that you dislike Chan. Honestly, how could you? He’s talented, driven, and ridiculously handsome. But from the moment you met him, he’s been nothing but cold and dismissive. It’s like he’s made it his mission to make your life difficult.

As you walk into the studio, you see him already there, his back to you as he fiddles with some equipment. You take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face. “Morning, Chan!”

He doesn’t turn around. “Morning.”

You suppress a sigh. Another day, another brush-off.

You set your bag down and get to work, trying to ignore the icy atmosphere. The day drags on, the silence between you both filled with nothing but the hum of electronics and the occasional muttered curse from Chan.

Finally, after what feels like hours, you manage to get him to talk. “Hey, Chan, can you listen to this track? I think it needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised. “You want my opinion?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re one of the best producers here,” you say, trying not to sound too sarcastic. He might be a jerk, but you still need his input.

He listens to the track, his expression unreadable. “It needs more bass. And the vocals are too soft. They need to be more upfront.”

You nod, making notes. “Got it. Thanks.”

The rest of the day goes by in much the same way, but you notice something strange. Every time you ask for his help, he gives it without complaint. And every now and then, you catch him watching you, a strange look in his eyes.

***

As the weeks go by, things start to change. It’s subtle at first. He starts offering his help without being asked. He brings you coffee in the mornings, saying it’s just because he’s getting one for himself anyway. He even starts making small talk.

One day, as you’re both working late, he surprises you. “Hey, do you want to grab some dinner after this?”

You blink, taken aback. “Uh, sure. That sounds great!”

You end up at a little diner, talking and laughing like old friends. It’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile, and it takes your breath away.

“You know,” he says, looking down at his plate, “I don’t actually hate you.”

You laugh, but it’s a little shaky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He looks up, his eyes serious. “I’m... I’m not good at this. At feelings. I’ve liked you since the day we met, but I didn’t know how to act around you. I thought being distant would make it easier.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You like me?”

He nods, looking almost shy. “Yeah. A lot.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand. “I like you too, Chan. A lot.”

***

From that night on, things change even more. You’re not just coworkers anymore. You’re friends. And, slowly, you become something more.

There are late nights at the studio where he pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly as you work.

It’s nearly midnight, and you and Chan are the only ones left in the studio. The room is dimly lit, the glow from the computer screens casting a soft light over everything. You’re both exhausted, but there’s still work to be done. You’re hunched over your laptop, tweaking some last-minute details on a track, when you feel his presence behind you.

“Hey, take a break,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky from hours of talking and singing.

“I just need to finish this part,” you reply, not looking up. “Almost done.”

He sighs, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Alright, Miss Perfectionist.”

You hear him move around, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted out of your chair. “Chan!” you yelp, but he just laughs, pulling you into his lap as he sits back down.

“Relax,” he says, his arms wrapping around you. “You’ve been working too hard.”

You lean back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you need to take care of yourself too.”

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “And what about you? You’ve been working just as hard.”

He grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m taking care of myself right now.”

You smile, your heart fluttering. “Okay, fine. Five-minute break.”

“Good,” he says, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I need more of this.”

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his lips on your skin, the warmth of his arms around you. In that moment, all the stress and exhaustion melts away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Then, there are lazy Sundays spent cuddling on the couch, watching movies and stealing kisses.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re both sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. Chan’s arm is draped over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest. The movie is some cheesy rom-com, but neither of you are really paying attention. You’re too busy stealing kisses and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Hey, pay attention,” you say, swatting his hand away as he tries to tickle you. “This is the best part.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, his fingers brushing against your side again. “What happens?”

You laugh, trying to squirm away. “Stop! You’ll see.”

He grins, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

You settle back against him, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it. The late nights, the long hours, all of it. Because at the end of the day, you have this. You have him.

“You know,” he says suddenly, his voice soft, “I could get used to this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “What, lazy Sundays?”

He shakes his head, his eyes serious. “No. Us. Being together like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Me too.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he can’t put into words. And you know, without a doubt, that you feel the same way.

Then, there are also mornings where you wake up tangled together, his arms around you and his breath warm against your neck.

The first rays of sunlight are just starting to filter through the curtains when you wake up. You’re tangled in the sheets, Chan’s arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his body a comforting weight against yours.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to see his face. He looks so peaceful, so different from the grumpy, guarded man you met months ago. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face, and he stirs, his eyes slowly opening.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling. “Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do when you’re here.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Only for you.”

You laugh, rolling over to face him. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “Lucky me.”

You lean in, kissing him softly. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You smile, your heart feeling like it might burst. “I love you too.”

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. With him. Always.

***

One evening, as you’re sitting on a bench at the park together, he turns to you, his expression serious. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You make me want to be better. For you.”

You smile, your heart swelling. “You already are, Chan. You always have been.”

He kisses you, and it’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he’s never been able to say. And you know, without a doubt, that he loves you.

As the months go by, you can see the change in him. He’s still grumpy and a little rough around the edges, but there’s a softness to him now, a warmth that wasn’t there before. And you know that, no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you turn to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we ended up working together. Even if you were a jerk at first.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Me too. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For being a jerk.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You’re forgiven. Just... keep being you. That’s all I need.”

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that you’ve found something special. Something real. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

© deerlino (est. 090624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[jjbalice]

A Night to Forget

Summary: Mingi wakes up to a feeling he's never experienced before, and he's pretty sure he's dying.

Genre: a reverse hurt/comfort Mingi x reader oneshot

Word count: 1 123 (8-9 min.)

Trigger warnings: descriptions of a panic attack (shortness of breath, feeling nauseous and scared, crying)

A/N: Somehow, the biggest struggle while writing this was the concept of puke bowls?? I thought that was a universal thing but once I started googling the proper term for it I found out it's not?? So if you're one of those people who don't have a designated bowl for throwing up at home, now you do, lol.

You awoke with a startle, eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to focus in the dark room. You didn't remember having a nightmare, so why were you suddenly awake?

The answer to your question came in the form of a sharp, deep inhale from beside you. Immediately, a shaky exhale followed, just as loud and forceful.

"...Min?" You called out quietly, turning to your right. You could see the rough outline of your boyfriend, lying on the bed with his back to you. The sheets he usually liked to bury himself in were pulled down to his waist, revealing his broad, pajama-clad back.

Despite the darkness, you could see his chest and shoulders rise and fall with every tight breath, looking almost painful with the clear tension in each movement.

You quickly sat up, leaning over to place a gentle hand on his hip. "Mingi? Baby, are you okay?"

All you got in return was a small, watery whine, making you that much more concerned. Worrying at your bottom lip, you leaned back to turn on your bedside lamp. With the room now cast in a warm, soft, yellow light, you shuffled closer to peer over Mingi's shoulder.

If the labored breathing wasn't enough cause for concern, the tears rolling down his cheeks definitely were.

"Honey please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Mingi's breath stuttered as he tried to get his voice under control, eyes squeezed shut. "I- I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Fuck," you muttered, quickly straightening back up. "Can you stand up? No, wait, let me go get the bowl-"

"No!" Mingi suddenly caught your hand before you could remove it from his hip, grip surprisingly tight considering the tremors in his arm. "Please, please don't leave, I don't want to- I can't- I'm scared."

You quickly put your hand back on his hip, holding him securely while you lay back down. Even if Mingi's frantic behavior gave you an idea of what might be happening, it didn't ease your inner panic whatsoever. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm right here, alright? It will pass soon, don't worry."

Mingi just weakly nodded in return, clearly unconvinced. His breaths slowed down just a bit but grew that much deeper in turn. "Y/N, I-" his voice cut off as he choked on something between a gag and a sob, making him heave even more. "I can't breathe."

Despite the fear in his statement, Mingi's words further confirmed your suspicions.

"Honey, are you having a panic attack?" You asked softly, watching his body exhaust itself with more labored breaths. The sight pained you, but you knew you couldn't give in to your own panic right now. You had to be here for your lover.

"I don't know," Mingi whimpered, bracing himself as another wave of nausea hit him, "maybe?"

Okay, you should be able to work with that. Hopefully.

You moved to lie right against him, chest pressing into his back. The hand on his hip traveled upward, resting against his waist and stomach. Like this, your fingers felt every rise and fall of his chest, keeping track without putting too much pressure on his ribcage.

"Try to breathe with me, love," you whispered into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. "I know it feels like you're suffocating, but you'll be okay, trust me."

Despite his inner doubts, Mingi replied with the tiniest "Okay". The room fell silent again, save for your slow, calm breaths and Mingi's hard, tight ones. For the first minute or two, Mingi couldn't match you for the life of him. Every time he tried to slow down, he felt like he was going to pass out, throw up, or both. Only after you spoke up again, whispering small words of love and encouragement, did his breathing finally start to calm down.

"There you go," you cooed in his ear. "I'm so proud of you, baby, keep going."

Mingi's heart warmed at your praise, easing the nauseous anxiety churning within. The feeling that he was going to throw up began subsiding, along with the tightness in his lungs.

"Thank you," he muttered a few moments later, relaxing into the mattress. At last, the worst of it seemed to be over, easing his panic about possibly dying.

"There's nothing to thank me for," you replied softly, snuggling further into his back now that he was less likely to be uncomfortable by your touch. "How are you feeling?"

He hummed to himself as he assessed his state, grabbing your hand on his waist to fully wrap it around his middle. "Definitely a lot better. It's still a bit hard to breathe but it's going away, I think."

"Good," you sighed into his neck. "I'm sorry you had to go through that in the first place, though. Waking up to a panic attack is anything but pleasant, but you did really well."

"...You really think it was a panic attack?" Mingi questioned, turning around to look at you. "I mean, it would certainly be one of the better reasons for why this all happened, but still... What is there to panic over in one's sleep?"

You chuckled at his question, squeezing him tighter in your hold. "I don't know, babe. You have been pretty stressed lately, so maybe something in your dreams triggered it, who knows. I'm just glad you got through it."

"That makes two of us," Mingi agreed absent-mindedly, too focused on the bright moon outside. "Not gonna lie though, I'm kinda afraid to fall asleep again after this."

The tone of his voice and the small chuckle told you it was supposed to be a joke, but you knew better than that. Despite the tough-guy persona your boyfriend often liked to put on, deep down, he was just as sensitive as everyone else, if not more.

"Don't worry, love," you consoled him, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. "I'm sure everything will be fine now. And even if not, I'm right here to calm you down again. I've got you, always."

Mingi didn't respond for a while, too busy fighting the tears suddenly springing to his eyes. How did those few words from you bring him so much comfort? And what did he do to deserve such a beautiful, loving person by his side?

Mingi didn't know and didn't dare ask. All he needed to know right now was that you were here - with him, for him.

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

[cherry-leclerc]

dirty mouth ☆ cl16

genre: humor, fluff, a tiny bit of smut

word count: 2.5k

Winter break and your boyfriend convinces you to go with him for his annual training in preparation for the new season, and this unleashes a natural disaster when it comes to him.

req!… hope u guys enjoy a bit of pottymouth!charles lol

When your boyfriend first brought up the idea of you tagging along to his winter training you thought, yeah, it doesn’t sound half bad. Sitting by the fireplace - hot chocolate and an overdue book in hand…

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc I am going to kill you,” you screech as you slide down the fast hill, white snow flying all around you from the sudden speed. His heart races fast as he chases after you.

You had begged for hours for him to let you read in peace. It’s all about the experience, he would yodel as he pointed out the window where everyone was skiing. Come on, it’ll be fun. 

Given, you wanted him to stop moaning every second - not in that way at least - and so, you complied. “Oh, amore, you look so cute! Wait, hold on, let me take a picture.” 

“I look like a stupid snowman,” you growl as you look down at your ski suit. Wincing at the strong flash of his phone, you scrunch your nose. He frowns. 

“An adorable snowman.”

As soon as you stepped foot out, you wanted to punch him square in the face. It was so cold that for a moment you thought your limbs would give out. Joris giggles as he snaps a quick Polaroid of you pouting, cheeks the darkest shade a pink. You flip him off before turning to Charles. 

“You don’t love me.” He groans, already knowing this card all too well. You hum. “Nuh-uh, you don’t because if you did then you wouldn’t put me in this position.” A smirk slides onto his soft lips.

“Don’t worry, I know a position that will warm you up later.” Your jaw drops. Leaning down to press a kiss onto the tip of your nose, he continues. “And I do love you, don’t be ridiculous.” 

You realized he wasn’t going to give in to your pleas to let you turn back around, so you sucked it up and followed him and the boys. Andrea bumps his shoulder against yours, trying to get your attention. 

“Vous plaisantez j'espère?” you groan as you fall down into a pile of snow, unbalanced from his delicate nudge. His smile drops. Sorry, sorry! He checks to see if you’re hurt because Lord watch out if you are, Charles would kill him. 

“Questo é fantastico,” Joris mutters as he takes another picture. You bite the air. Andrea waves him off before helping you plunge through the snow. 

“Please don’t tell Charles,” he begs as you squint your eyes teasingly. Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m fine, aren’t I? Your boyfriend’ trainer silently thanks you. “I was just trying to ask if you were ready?” He wiggles his dark brows. 

“Ready for what?” You look around. “To freeze my ass off?” He stops dead in his tracks. “Oh! You mean to go to the bunny slope!” Cheerfully, you clap, wide grin stretched onto your lips. “I’m kind of scared, but it’s for beginners so I think I’ll be okay. Plus, you guys will all be there.”

Andrea shakes his head, almost seeming disappointed. “Charles, Charles, Charles…”

“Charles what?” 

“We’re here!” Looking up at your boyfriend, he buzzes as he points up at the ski lift. Your smile drops. Angrily, you struggle to make your way up to him before smacking his shoulder. 

“You said the bunny slope!”

He grimaces. “I know, I know, but you need to feel the rush!” He tries to kiss you but you swiftly turn your head causing him to smack his lips right onto your helmet. “I know you’re mad-”

“Of course I’m mad, you lied. I can’t go up there.” Huffing, you cross your arms. He winces at your tone. 

“Chérie, but I’ll be there with you! Joris, Andrea, Antonio, me…” He coolly raises his brows. “We’ll keep you safe.” 

You scoff. “Better start planning my funeral.”

“You’ll be fine, let’s go.”

-

“Alright baby, bend your knees - come on - you know how to do that,” he teases with a cocky tone. The boys groan as they cover their ears and you burn bright red. He throws his head back laughing as he continues. “Lean a bit toward, too.” He suppresses another dirty joke when you throw the ski poles all frustrated.

“I’m not doing this if you keep this up.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he promises as he hands them back to you. After a bit more coaching from all of them, you nod. 

“Lots of mansplaining, but I guess I could give it a shot.” You narrow your eyes at your friends. “Promise you guys will go after me if I can’t stop?” 

Promise, they repeat in unison. 

“Pro?” a teenage boy asks as he looks you up and down. Charles clenches his jaw as he steps in. She is. His voice comes out harsh and the worker just raises his arms up in defense before winking over at you. Have fun. 

Dragging you away, you squeal as you try to keep up. “He was only being nice!” Nice my ass, he sourly grunts as he makes sure your feet are secure. You pout. “And I’m not a professional, you stinky liar.” You roll your eyes. “Guess that’s all you know how to do today - lie.”

Playfully, he mimics your movements, then he smacks your ass. “Be a good girl and show us all what you learned.” You squirm at his words before nodding. 

Knees slightly bent, like how they are when you bounce up and down around his thick cock.

Lean forward, like when you press your naked chest against his own and he kisses you until your lips burn out. 

Everything somehow led back to moments between you and the Monegasque and maybe that’s what made you far too unfocused that you missed your step and started sliding down the hill before you even had a chance to notice. 

“Guys!” you wail as you fly past by them with their jaws on the floor. “You group of liars!” 

The brunette quickly snaps out of it and chases after you, avidly skiing past other skiers. Andrea, Joris and Antonio all follow after him as they breath heavily. 

“Turn, baby, turn,” Charles screeches as he clumsily throws out reminders of what he taught you on how to come to a halt. Shift your body weight! 

Shutting your eyes for a brief second, you send a quick prayer to the man up above and curse your boyfriend for a lifetime. “I can’t do it, I’m sca- agh!” 

You’re barely able to safely swoosh past a group of boys as they all yell at you. Charles flips them off before sliding past them. 

“Smile!” Joris demands as he clicks his camera. You little bitch, you shout. Help me, douchebag! “Right.” He’s just about to catch you when all of a sudden he loses his place and falls. “Oh, allez!” 

Then comes Antonio who as much as he tries to help, he can’t seem to get close enough. Charles huffs a puff of cold air. “Just grab her!” She keeps getting away, his friend pants. 

And Andrea isn’t really trying but he’s definitely in for adrenaline as he cheers for his friends like their own personal cheerleader. Oh, so close! 

Joris eventually catches up but can’t do much anymore, apart from start recording. He laughs as you zigzag, arms momentarily flinging through the air. 

“No! Keep them still!” Charles yelps, terrified to see you hurt yourself. 

“I’m never listening to you ever again, Charles! You never think when it comes to these things, do you?” You tremble from the icy breeze. “Noooo, he never does! Because all he thinks about is fun, fun, fun, fu-”

Next thing you know, you’re crashing into a chunk of snow as you groan from the sudden stop, but nothing hurts. “Oh thank God,” you let out. Patting yourself down, you squint your eyes at the group of men who ease their pace as they grow closer to you. “Dickheads.” You look around. “Where’s Charles?”

Hearing the shutter of a camera go off, you tilt your head in confusion. “Oh yeah,” Joris gasps. “This is definitely going to be shown at your guys’ wedding.”

Feeling something twitch underneath you, you squeal with panic as you try jumping up but only hear a ring of grunts. And you recognize them like the back of your hand. 

“Charles?” Taking off his helmet abruptly, he heaves. As soon as he catches his breath, he touches your face carefully. Are you hurt? Are you okay? You throw your arms over him like a koala and kiss his clothed neck. “What do you mean, am I okay, what about you?” He shrugs it off.

“As long as you are.” 

You swoon before swatting him all over his chest. This is pure gold, Joris adds as he continues recording. 

“Men are all dirty, filthy, scrummy, stupid liars,” you hissed as his large hands tried to ease your hits. “You said you guys would help me!” 

His eyes darken. “What do you call what I just did? I basically gave my life for you!” He brushes white snow off his lashes. “I’m lucky to be alive, you brat.”

Dinner that night is filled with snarky remarks from Charles and strong bickering from you. 

“If you hadn’t forced me then I wouldn’t be bitching about it!”

His right eye twitches for a split second. “I already said I was sorry! I saved you, be a little thankful.”

The group of friends could tell the tension was growing thicker between the couple as they munch on their food quietly. He just doesn’t have a single cell to help him think about the consequences, you mumble as you bite down on a brussels sprout. 

“You know what? How about we all just relax?” Andrea tried to lessen the rigid behavior of his two friends. “How does a trip to the hot tub sound?”

-

The Monegasque stiffens as soon as you walk out with your tiny bikini. You were a quivering mess, which made you cross your arms to try and warm yourself up, which in return ruined your boyfriend's sanity. He was practically drooling like a dog at the sight of your perfect tits being pressed up. 

In a singular motion, Charles removes his shirt, leaving him in only his swim shorts. His large bulge increases your heart tempo as you remind yourself to keep cool since Joris and the rest were still around. 

“Mierde, you know what? I forgot the towels.” Joris turns to Andrea and Antonio. “Do you guys mind helping me?” They patiently nod before making their way back into the cabin. 

Teeth chattering is all he could hear coming from you, white rings flying in the air as you let out shaky breaths. His arms itch to bring you in and it’s not until he looks into your loopy eyes that he sighs and makes his way over.

He towers over you as his arms wrap around you like the warmest blanket to ever exist. “Are you still mad?” Despite letting him touch you, you still keep your face straight, not letting him be able to read you. “Chérie-”

“I want to get in,” you cut him, creating distance as you dip your toe in first into the hot tub and then the rest. Annoyed, he tsks his tongue before doing the same. Be like that then. 

Click. 

Turning fast to face the glass door, you vividly catch a glimpse of your friends locking it and closing the curtains. Make amends, Andrea yells out like a strict parent. 

“Connards!” Splashing your hands onto the water as a mini tantrum, you moan. The green eyed boy keeps quiet as he watches you. “What are you looking at?” you hiss. Nothing.

You think about climbing out and trying to find a way back in but the hot water feels too good so you decide against it, choosing to enjoy the sensation. As soon as you close your eyes, the brunette starts whistling. 

At first you try to tune him out, but it only gets louder from there. Theme From A Summer Place. You recognize it in less than a second. It’s what he always plays for you on the piano as you bake him snickerdoodles. Whether it’s summer or not - it’s a routine. 

Your silly resentment grows smaller with every curve his tongue travels through, soft symphonies somehow making you feel more cozy than the actual hot tub. 

He could hear the way you tread through the water, but it still catches him by surprise as you climb onto his lap, graceful fingers pushing his long hair back a bit. 

“I’m sorry for being a bitch today.” 

He chuckles deeply, leaning up to kiss your wet lips. “I’m sorry for almost killing you.” He drums his fingers against your thigh. “It scared me when you lost control…I should’ve just let you stay back.”

“It wasn't right for you to assume that I would be fine skipping the bunny slope and jumping straight into that, but I know you meant no harm.” His jaw ticks. 

“Of course I meant no harm, are you kidding me? You dragged my heart along with you when you flew down that hill.” You giggle sweetly, strands of hair sliding off your shoulders. He smiles. 

“It’s not entirely your fault.” He quirks his left eyebrow. Blushing, you begin playing with the droplets that sprinkle across his chest. “My mind went…” He whistles seductively. You nod, avoiding his green stare. “Yup.”

“It’s normal, no? I mean you are my girlfriend.” 

“But not in a moment like that, Charles! We all nearly died,” you wheeze as you shift on his lap. He grunts. 

“And yet, we didn’t.” Turned on by everything about you, he angles his head upward before linking his pink lips to yours. Water droplets tickle your chin as he moves his mouth against your own. Your body temperature increasingly grows heated and not just from the hot tub. 

The way he kisses you with such urgency is enough to make your head spin, as if he’s been away for years and just barely got the opportunity to enjoy your pillowy lips. Slowly, you circle your hips as he groans, hands pinching you in return as he grows harder. 

“God, I’m so glad you didn’t die,” he mumbles in between your lips. Laughing, you vibrate against him as he cringes at the sudden change. “Anddd you ruined it.” You poke your tongue out.

“Don’t say perverted things then!” 

His stare drops. “How is that perverted?”

Shrugging, you climb off his lips as you press a warm kiss against his stubble. “Teasing, Mr. Leclerc. But how about we go up to bed?” 

His eyes crinkle at your simple words. “Shoot me in the head if I ever say no to that.” Splashing out of the pool, you giggle as he grabs you, kissing every inch of your glowy skin.

-

Headboard hits the wall strong and fast as you cry out against his chest, groans flying past his lips as he circles his fingers against your swollen clit. 

From downstairs, the boys grab Charles’ car keys as they hurry out the door.

“Andrea, what were you thinking?”

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hello! I've been seeing a lot of smosh vidcon content lately as well as rewatching shayne guesses and it made me brainstorm a bit!

How about a Spencer x reader where he freaks out about his favorite creator being at vidcon (the reader obvi) and the other cast members trying so hard to get them to meet and they hit it off? *you know Kiana would be allll over helping a bestie out lol*

or maybe even the same kind of thing but instead of meeting, reader is one of Spencer's fav youtubers in Shayne's guessing favorite youtubers video? Shayne immediately knows it's spencer and kind of outs his crush! reader is a big fan of smosh so she sees the video and it goes from there!

absolutely adore your work and keep it up queen! 🫶

See You Online || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you see a smosh video of spencer saying you’re one of his favorite youtubers, you begin to interact online. then, when you both attend vidcon (and spencer’s friends convince him to talk to you) you hit it off

word count: 2.6k

warnings: mild language

a/n: hey darling! so i kind of went with both of these ideas and i hope you like what i did 🤭 i included some fake insta/yt in this because it fit so this is partially a social media au. fem!reader. enjoy!!

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     “Well, this is obviously Spencer.”

     Shayne tapped his pen against the desk as he looked at the screen in front of him.

     Three YouTuber names had appeared next to him for the viewers to see. 

     “What makes it me?” Spencer’s teasing voice came from off camera. 

     “C’mon,” Shayne said. “We got Retro Game Corp, MandaloreGaming, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

     He continued. “Everyone knows you love retro shit. MandaloreGaming sounds like just the kind of nerd thing you’d be into. And (Y/n)—that one’s just self explanatory. I mean, Spencer’s obsessed with (Y/n). Ask anyone in the office.”

     “Ok woah,” Spencer piped in again. “I don’t know about obsessed.”

     “Dude, you just told me yesterday that you watched her videos until two in the morning the night before,” Shayne addressed him.

      Then he faced back to the screen, to the viewers. “Spencer’s got a little bit of a crush on (Y/n). It’s uh, it’s honestly adorable.”

      A woman’s muffled voice came from offscreen. 

     Shayne laughed. “Kiana said Spencer would have (Y/n)’s babies.”

     “Dude!” Spencer yelled at Kiana offscreen. “What if she sees this!”

     “There’s no way,” Shayne laughed. “There’s no way any of the YouTubers from this video are seeing this.”

      “Imagine,” Spencer joked. “I’m like, ‘hey (Y/n), hit me up’, and then she sees this, bro.”

      “Hey,” Shayne raised his eyebrows. “You never know. I mean, I married a YouTuber.”

      “Just an excuse to bring up Courtney,” Spencer coughed.

      “Anyway,” Shayne put his hands on the table in front of him. “We’re getting a little off track here. We’ve established Spencer’s in love with (Y/n). Now—do I even have to guess?—show me Spencer!”

      He pointed to the side as an imagine of Spencer popped up on the screen. 

      “Well, thanks for that easy round,” Shayne joked. “Now, let’s see the next set of YouTubers…”

     And that was where you stopped watching the video every time. You’d seen the whole of Shayne Guesses Favorite YouTubers before, but when you went back to rewatch it, it was always this clip.

     You’d been sent this specific clip by hundreds of people. Your followers and subscribers on all different platforms. The comments ranged from ‘oh my gosh look at this’ to ‘you have to see this smosh video’ to ‘petition to get Spencer and (Y/n) to go out’.

     What they didn’t know, was that you’d seen it long before they began tagging you in it.

     You were a huge Smosh fan, and had been for years. Imagine your shock when you yourself were named in one of their videos. 

     You’d only been a creator for a little over a year now, but you’d quickly gained a following and were becoming more and more popular online. It still all felt so surreal, and seeing yourself named as someone’s favorite YouTuber—especially on one of your favorite channels—felt like a huge moment.

      That, and you were flattered by Shayne’s comments about Spencer. You thought it was sweet that he enjoyed your content and—you couldn’t stop the blush from spreading to your cheeks—you. 

      That was what prompted you to leave a comment under the video—a comment which Spencer responded to.

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Can Shayne Guess Our Favorite YouTubers? Smosh Games • 721k views • 38k 👍

comments 2.9k

yourusername ✓: does this count as being in the youtuber and the celeb crush vid?

♥️ by creator

spennser ✓: it was actually only until 1am i swear smoshyyy651: spensser LMAOOOO chumbawumbasnumbertwofan: the fact that (y/n) (y/l/n) saw this ✋😭 y/nstanforlifeee: oh my gosh my queen is here 👑 I love you and your vids (not as much as Spencer apparently asksfsk)

mya_sol: how many times have you watched 8:04? me: yes

yourfavoritepizzaplace: ‘spencer would have (y/n)’s babies’ KIANA THATS WILDDDD 💀

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    And from there, you began interacting. Leaving comments and likes on each other’s videos and instagram posts. Leaving fans to obsess over your every interaction, to make compilations, to wonder if you were dating.

     Because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t read most of the comments about you two. 

    You enjoyed your little online back-and-forth. You’d known who Spencer was before the Shayne Guesses video had come out. Watching Smosh on-and-off for years, you’d seen him in multiple videos.

     It still felt so unreal for him to know who you were—not only know who you were but like your videos.

     And now look at you, messaging him and liking his posts like you were old friends. Spencer pretty much liked and commented on every one of your feeds or stories or uploads.

     After your original comment on the Smosh video, things just…took off. You didn’t really know how it started, one comment led to another, and suddenly it was like you had always congratulated each other and left witty comments on each other’s pages. 

     You smiled as you stared at the screen of your phone, looking over your’s and Spencer’s latest interaction. You couldn’t deny that he was really cute. You’d always thought so. 

     You thought of Shayne saying that Spencer had a crush on you and you felt your smile grow bigger.

     Your empty suitcase caught your eye as you looked up, sitting on your bed and reminding you that you still had to pack.

     You set your phone down. Fangirling over Spencer could wait. You still had yet to pack for your flight that that was in two days, and you didn’t want to leave it ‘till the last minute—or, more last minute than it already was.  

     You had been lucky enough to be invited to VidCon this year, and you were thrilled about getting to go as a creator and meet other artists who had inspired you. You were less thrilled about the packing.

      You stood up and walked towards your closet, starting to decide which outfits you wanted to bring, daydreaming about what VidCon would be like. All while thinking about Spencer.

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yourusername

liked by hannahmontoya, spennser, and 21,449 others

yourusername: new vid up now !! 💌

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haleypham: about to go watch it right now xoxo love you

yourusername: stop ilysm 🤭

ynsgirlfriend: WAKE UP SHE POSTED 🙏

spennser: guess what i’m going to be doing at 2am

⤷ liked by yourusername

darlingdaisy: please do a grwm next i need to see your skincare routine!!

ryla768: we’re being fed well today 🙇‍♀️

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spennser

liked by yourusername, filmingamanda, and 17,914 others

spennser: it’s giving cat lady

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phatchanse: *cat queen

yourusername: my cat says to tell ur cat hi

spennser: my cat says ur cat’s pretty cute carmensanfransisco: LOL 😂🐈 urmom17: oh my gosh she commented spencer are you freaking out? spennser: urmom17 shitting my pants fr

jessicarabbitsimp: who else has noticed spencer and (y/n) all over each other’s igs 😏

smoshismylife: love you spencer 🫶

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yourusername: thx for 100k 🥂

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spensser: yay i contributed

⤷ liked by yourusername

yourusername: how’d you have time to create 100k accs tho? ⤷ liked by spennser

lucindajones101: congrats girlie!! you deserve it

ynfan7: my queen 🧎‍♀️

butterflyenjoyer: been here since the beginning 🥹 keep shining!!

getyninasmoshvideo: the way spencer makes an appearance on all her posts 😭

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VidCon was amazing. 

      Today was the first day, and you couldn’t wait for all the festive still to come. You had already seen so many cool presentations and been a part of so many workshops and met so many interesting people. 

      And now, as you stood at the table set aside for you, staring at the slowing line of people still waiting to meet you, you thought that this was definitely your favorite part.

     You’d gotten to talk to people who watched your channel and hear how your content had impacted their lives or inspired them to create. It really made it all feel worth it. It made you love your job and all of the opportunities it had given you.

     You’d been here for nearly two hours already, and still there were a few more fans waiting to speak with you and get a picture.  

     You smiled to yourself as the last of the people filed through, letting the momentary silence wash over you. You had just picked up your phone to take a quick selfie for a later post, when you heard a commotion to your left.

     You turned to the source of the noise and had to do a double take when you saw the entire cast of Smosh at a setup similar to yours, having their own meet and greet.

     You didn’t know why in all of your thinking about Spencer you hadn’t assumed that Smosh would be at VidCon. It seemed obvious now. They were YouTubers, weren’t they?

     Speaking of Spencer, you saw him talking to Courtney and your heart did a little flip in your chest. After interacting with him online these past few weeks, and watching his channel for these past few years, it seemed crazy to see him in person. 

     As if sensing your presence, he looked your way and you turned away in time so it didn’t look like you’d been staring. You didn’t think he’d caught you watching him. 

     “Wait? Spencer, is that (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?” Courtney’s voice carried over the several feet that separated you.

     “Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed,” you heard him say sarcastically, even though your back was turned to him. You stepped a little bit closer to their location, pretending to be fixing something on your lanyard.

     “Dude, you have to go talk to her,” you heard a male voice—Shayne? You didn’t dare turn around—say.

     “No way man,” Spencer answered, “What would I even say?”

     “You’ve been commenting on each other’s instagrams for like a month, you’ll think of something,” Courtney said.

     “Yeah, but that’s different. This would be, like, a real conversation,” he answered. “I don’t actually know her. What if she thinks I’m just some creepy fan, and it’s like bro back off.”

     You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. Oh, what he didn’t know.

     Then the music in the venue picked up and you couldn’t hear their conversation for nearly a minute. You walked a few feet back over to your table, picking up and looking at a few of the gifts fans had given you, finding a new way to look busy. This went on for another minute before you heard a new voice say,

     “What’s this about Spence and (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

     “Just that Spencer’s going to go up to her,” Courtney announced. 

     “I’ll get the popcorn,” the voice said. 

     “No, Kiana,” you heard Spencer say. “That’s not what’s happening.”

     “You’ll regret if forever if you don’t go talk to (Y/n),” The voice—Kiana—stated. 

     “No way. That’d be like if I asked you to just ‘go up and talk to’ Darren Chris,” Spencer said

     “My favorite white guy,” Kiana joked.

     “Hey bro, I thought we established that was me!” Spencer said in outrage. 

     “You will be if you go and talk to (Y/n),” she finished. 

     “I will not be manipulated,” you heard him say, and you stifled another chuckle. 

     “No, but you will be shoved,” Kiana said.

     “Wait what?” Spencer got out, before you heard a scuffing sound.

     You turned around just as Kiana pushed Spencer and suddenly he was right before you. 

     “Hey,” he said, looking uncomfortable, shooting a glare behind him at Kiana. “I heard there was a meet and greet?”

     You smiled. “You just missed it, actually.” 

     “Damn, next year then,” he said.

     “I suppose I could make an exception,” you teased. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to take away anyone’s Favorite White Guy title.”

     Spencer winced. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

     “What conversation?” You winked at him. 

     “I can’t remember,” Spencer said, smiling as he rubbed a hand along the side of his face.

     You were both silent for a moment.

     “So,” Spencer started, breaking it. “I would tell you that I love watching your content—until a very reasonable hour of the night, might I add—but you kind of already know that. And I bet you’ve already been told that by hundreds of people today.”

     “Not by anyone nearly as cute though,” you replied, before leaning in to mock-whisper. “And I don’t mind hearing it again.”

     “Also,” you continued. “I could say the same to you. I love Smosh—I’ve watched your channel for years. You guys are all so talented.”

     “Really? No way,” Spencer smiled. “You watch Smosh?”

     “Really,” you smiled back. “I did know who you were before the Shayne Guesses video, you know.”

     “Don’t remind me,” Spencer said, shaking his head.

     “I thought it was sweet,” you told him, laughing. “And if that video had never happened, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

     “Or at Buca Di Beppo tonight at 8?” Spencer said, with trepidation.

     “Or that,” you agreed, nodding. “Are you asking me out on a date, Spencer Agnew?” 

     You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. 

     “I guess I am,” he said. “Unless you’re going to slap me, in which case no.”

     “Only if the date goes badly,” you teased. “And if you don’t make 100,000 more accounts to subscribe to my channel with.”

     Spencer grinned. “Done. And I can introduce you to the rest of the gang.”

     “Are they good with me crashing your guys’ dinner?” You asked. You couldn’t believe you were going to meet the members of Smosh.

     You couldn’t believe you were going on a date with Spencer. 

     “Oh, they already know about it. They’re listening to every word of our conversation right now.” Spencer pointed a thumb behind him and you looked over his shoulder to see all of the Smosh cast watching you.

     They all waved at you.

     “Hey girl hey!” Kiana called to you, smirking at Spencer. 

     You waved back at them, grinning. 

     “Well, I don’t want to keep you from meet-and-greet-ing any longer,” you said, turning back to Spencer.

     “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” Spencer joked, gesturing between the two of you.

     “Doesn’t count,” you said back. “Technically we’ve already met on the internet.”

     “Yeah, well, you’re much prettier in person,” Spencer said, as he backed up towards the rest of the Smosh cast.

     “Well then,” you said, only a little bit breathless. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

     “Unless I see you on the internet first,” Spencer said, turning around and walking away. 

     You couldn’t wait. Not only did you have your date with Spencer to look forward to, you also had the rest of VidCon to get to know Spencer better and hopefully hang out with him before all this was over. 

     You turned to leave as well, walking in the opposite direction of Spencer as you tried to think where you had to be next. It was hard to focus when all your thoughts were occupied by something else. Someone else.

     You were almost out of earshot when you heard Kiana’s voice, carrying over the crowds of people.

     “Get over here, loser. I’ll take my thanks in the form of cash and/or worsted weight yarn.”

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yourusername

liked by spennser, co_mill, and 41,813 others

yourusername: had the best time with spennser at vidcon ‘24 ❣️

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kianaparker: ok but i’m glowing (also yw 💁🏾‍♀️)

⤷ liked by yourusername

spennser: new phone who dis?

yourusername: definitely not your gf ⤷ liked by spennser materialgorl199: GF?!? AHHHHH heatherscandystore: wait they’re together? I’m so happy for them ily both sm 🤭

jessicarabbitsimp: I KNEW IT WAIT 😭

thirdcutestsmoshboy: i met both of them there and they were so sweet

ynislife: so are they dating???

angelagiovanagiarratana: GUYS 🥹

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed this little bit of a different format. i had sm fun writing this. check out my other spencer fics if u want more like this 🎀

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙no saving u | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x piastri!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, break up, brother's best friend/childhood friends to lovers

warnings: trigger warning many max verstappen mentions unfortunately /j

summary: in which they are pulled together following a particularly messy crash during the last race of the season and an even messier break up

a/n: i got this plot as a request and i love it ahhh i linked the request below!!! hope u guys enjoy i lowkey luv writing logan fanfic especially when max loses something 😆

request!!!: max is getting too cocky and dangerous on the track and he knows you disagree with his antics which causes tension between you, he continues his dangerous streak even though he’s just had the pit lane rules changed for abu dhabi and ends up crashing into logan during fp2, you’ve had enough of max putting himself and others in danger whilst he’s on an ego trip and rush to check on logan after he’s been taken safely from his car and end up going to the hospital with him (you’re childhood friends because he did karting and f3 with your brother), you leave max that night and end up spending more time with logan as he recovers, the summer is spent exploring your new relationship and you go public when you’re spotted in his paddock in 2024, max is humiliated beaten by the worst driver on the grid in his opinion, he’s finally humbled, you could also maybe have logan doing better as he’s had an opportunity to be involved with the cars development, and he even gets a couple podiums in his sophomore year :)

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

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yourusername life lately:)

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maxverstappen1 the true artwork is you!

oscarpiastri cringeee

danielricciardo he's trying

yourusername max verstappen most bullied f1 driver on the grid

logansargeant assuming we will see you in the williams garage in abu dhabi

maxverstappen1 no!

alex_albon it's our turn

oscarpiastri nope it's our turn

yourusername shame it's none of you lot's turn. you will see me in mercedes perhaps

lewishamilton i always win

georgerussell63 😊

user1 y/n x f1 2023 grid interactions are my absolute favourite

twitter ->

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yourusername posted stories

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maxverstappen1 wont you swing by?

yourusername yes of course hehe i will come see you before free practice 🧡

alex_albon u didnt cheat but ur still a traitor

yourusername 🐱

twitter ->

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yourusername posted a story

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maxverstappen1 you are ignoring me

yourusername i just dont want to talk right now

maxverstappen1 why? you didnt even see if i was okay

yourusername i knew you were okay

yourusername im just very upset and angry it wouldn't be productive to see you right now

maxverstappen1 you are not coming back to the hotel?

yourusername no so dont wait up, i'll see you tomorrow

maxverstappen1 okay i am sorry y/n

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 64,734 others

yourusername im only welcome in one garage now

view all 3,294 comments

logansargeant this is literally false information

lilymhe she knows where she should be

landonorris im so lucky i get to see y/n before every race now

oscarpiastri you literally told her she stinks like 5 min ago

yourusername oh great thanks maybe im not welcome anywhere

mclaren we love you y/n

liked by yourusername

mercedesamgf1 you know where to find us y/n

liked by yourusername

user11 the caption...... is this a break up confirmation bc she isnt welcome at rb garage anymore

user12 i love how all the teams fight over her lol

f1wagupdates

liked by yourusername, user10, and 13,384 others

f1wagupdates we are gathered here today to mourn the alleged death of f1 couple max verstappen and our favourite aussie y/n piastri. please leave your respects below 🙏 we are celebrating with some of our favourite maxy/n moments!

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

view all 3,283 comments

user13 wag death 🙏

liked by yourusername

user14 one of my favourite couples😢

user15 dont cry coz it's over.....

user16 this has rattled me

user17 the caption CELEBRATING? Hahahah

f1wagupdates whoops freudian slip

user18 😭 i will never know peace

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, and 8,743 others

carmenmmundt dodged a bullet 100%

yourusername then why does it feel like i got hit anyway 😐

carmenmmundt you are so strong y/n/n

yourusername somehow it's worse because he would have me back if i asked lol

carmenmmundt omg he has no idea what he lost .. you are going to be thriving whilst he is flopping by next season i promise

yourusername i hope ur right 😀

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 24,924 others

logansargeant vacation time 🏝️

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

view all 4,283 comments

yourusername vacay vacay

oscarpiastri baecay baecay

yourusername ur so weird

oscarpiastri noo hahahh ..

user19 "baecay" what does that mean 🤔

user20 not oscar shipping his best friend & sister together 💀

user21 love seeing y/n hanging out with everyone now instead of being hidden away in max's dungeon

yourusername DUNGEON i just shrieked

user22 😀😀😀 im fine

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 284,929 others

danielricciardo woohoo woohoo woohoo

tagged: yourusername, lilymhe, landonorris, alex_albon, oscarpiastri

view all 13,294 comments

user23 omg more y/n x grid content

yourusername yoohoo

danielricciardo hi y/n

yourusername hey 😄

lilymhe my fav ppl

landonorris should we all give up our seats and hang out 24/7 instead

alex_albon no

danielricciardo no

oscarpiastri no

yourusername yea yay!

lilymhe yes wahoo

user24 i wish i was their friend

user25 max verstappen found dead

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 454,183 others

charles_leclerc what we've been up to

view all 17,064 comments

user26 y/n & charles taking a flight together🥹

user27 omg she is everywhere loll

yourusername exposing my weird airline meal

charles_leclerc still dont know what it was

oscarpiastri lol flying with y/n/n is an experience

user28 who is y/n dating im confused ??

user29 no one her & max just broke up but she's oscar's sister so she's always been friends with a lot of the grid

alexandrasaintmleux i can't believe u saw y/n without me

yourusername 😭 i miss you

alexandrasaintmleux get on a plane now

yourusername i genuinely will

charles_leclerc dont steal my gf

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, and 14,204 others

lilymhe oh hello

yourusername 👀

carmenmmundt excuse meee mrs

yourusername perhaps you were right

carmenmmundt not surprised

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and 27,924 others

logansargeant ...where should we go next?

view all 4,193 comments

user33 looks like y/n .. anyone else?

user34 that is deffo y/n

user35 why would we assume y/n is dating logan everyone has been posting them hanging out with her lately

danielricciardo go to japan

liked by logansargeant

user36 aww daniel giving travel advice

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 18,204 others

yourusername new favourite place

tagged: logansargeant

view all 6,283 comments

user37 omg not them going to japan because daniel told them to

user38 i rly think logan & y/n are an item

user39 aww she is having so much fun since the breakup

danielricciardo did not expect u guys to actually go where i said

yourusername we were feeling crazyy & impulsive

oscarpiastri come home im bored

yourusername make some friends

oscarpiastri why make friends when i have u

user40 lol i love their sibling relationship

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 4,294 others

carmenmmundt omg this is giving hard launch

yourusername 😭 this is special circumstances

logansargeant couldn't have done it without you

twitter ->

instagram—

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, carmenmmundt, and 17,294 others

yourusername bahrain bahrain p.s he was tired after getting p3

tagged: logansargeant

view all 7,294 comments

oscarpiastri just got the strongest urge to bully you for this post

yourusername u hate to see a girl win!! ur a misogynist or something

landonorris u didnt win anything y/n

logansargeant she won my heart actually

oscarpiastri omg.... lose my number.

yourusername lose ur seat!!! ur a b word

user44 not them arguing over literally nothing

mclaren we're on your side, y/n

yourusername i will always be a mclaren girl!

user45 lol y/n x grid interactions own my heart

user46 i love her relationship with mclaren in general

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 32,294 others

logansargeant me and my gf in murica

tagged: yourusername

view all 11,284 comments

yourusername 🦅

oscarpiastri you hate america

yourusername no need to mention that rn

logansargeant ???

lilymhe never been so happy

liked by yourusername, logansargeant

carmenmmundt i told you so, y/n

yourusername you did :)

logansargeant dont know what you told her but thanks 👍

user48 AHHHH i love y/n

logansargeant you and me both

yourusername WHAT?

oscarpiastri that's my sister bro

user48 omg what did i start

alex_albon oh shit

logansargeant urmmmm

yourusername i love you too 😜

carmenmmundt 🥰🥰

THE END 🤍

[devilishcupid]

BROUGHT TO JUSTICE | Bruce Wayne

☆ premise: you knew you had to do something after the joker killed jason, even if bruce wouldn't be able to save you.

☆ pairing: bruce wayne x fem!wife!reader

☆ warnings: gore descriptions, hurt no comfort, angst, death depiction and mention

☆ a/n: been a while since i uploaded a fic on this account. so many drafts and i couldn't focus on finishing bc i kept going back and forth lol. anyways, forced myself to finish this bruce fic i've had since last year. didn't have a specific bruce in mind writing this, hope you enjoy!

'He was never going to stop. You did the right thing,' you told yourself. You spared Gotham of further terror at the hands of the psychopathic clown. He didn't deserve to live—not after he murdered the one you held most dear.

"What did you do?"

You snapped out of your trance-like state, looking up to find Bruce standing in front of you in his costume. Only now, you became aware of the cold metal of the crowbar in your hands. Only now, you became aware of the crimson blood that covered you from head to toe. Only now, you became aware of the lifeless body of the Joker lying at your feet.

"I only did what you couldn't do." You said as you dropped the crowbar, the sound of metal hitting concrete echoing in the abandoned warehouse you had lured the Joker into.

"Why... why did you do this?!" Bruce yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders, trying to process how you were able to commit something even he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Because you didn't save my Jason!" You spat at him, your salty tears mixing with the blood splattered on your face before dripping down your chin and onto the ground. "You didn't save our boy—"

"Do you really believe that's an excuse to take a life?!"

Your jaw clenched at his words—you couldn't believe Bruce was using his stupid code of honor to defend letting that good-for-nothing maniac live after what he did.

"He tortured your son to death, and you let him get away with it." You hissed, venom dripping from every word you said. "And it's not just Jason. He terrorized the citizens of Gotham for too long, and the only thing you ever did about it was put him in a damn asylum he'd eventually escape from."

Bruce's lips formed a thin line across his face, unable to give you a response. From the looks of it, you could tell he knew you were right—at least about the never-ending cycle of Joker escaping Arkham and the Batman putting him back in.

"You know why I couldn't kill him." He finally settled on.

You let out a throaty chuckle laced with disdain for the man in front of you, shaking your head at your husband's simplistic reply. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have to—not anymore, at least. I did all of this for you."

Before either of you could say anything else, blue and red lights pierced through the broken glass windows of the warehouse, and the sound of sirens got louder. You could hear the screeching of car breaks, followed by Commissioner Gordon's voice booming, "This is the GCPD, and we have you surrounded! Come out now!"

"You should go," you said, having already accepted your eventual arrest by the Gotham City Police Department the moment you had put your plan into action.

"I won't leave—"

"It will look bad if they see you here," you interrupted him. "Right now, you're not my husband. You're the Batman. Unless you want to be the one to turn me in, I suggest you go now."

Bruce stayed quiet, knowing he couldn't save you from your predicament. Everything that led up to the Joker's death all pointed to you. It was almost as if you wanted to get caught with how the clown's death mirrored Jason's; you didn't bother to cover up your tracks, either. They may not be as useful as they should be in this crime-ridden city, but the GCPD isn't incompetent enough to not connect the dots.

"Just go, Bruce. Please. I don't want you to see what happens next." You planted a lingering kiss on your husband's cheek—careful not to get any hint of evidence on his suit—before heading towards the warehouse entrance to face Commissioner Gordon and his men.

The squelching of entrails and blood beneath the soles of your shoes followed your every step as you inched towards the door. You gripped the rusty handle with a bloody hand, taking a deep breath. You heard the sound of rustling behind you and look back to find the Batman already gone.

If it wasn't for the wailing of the police sirens, you swore you would've been able to hear a pin drop from the shock Gordon and his people had when you stepped foot outside the warehouse.

You raised your hands in the air, showing the entire unit of police officers undeniable proof of what you'd done. Confusion contorted on some of the officers' faces while others lowered their weapons, all of them unable to wrap their head around how one of Gotham's most esteemed socialites ended up covered in blood from head to toe.

"Sir, what do we do?" You could hear Officer Montoya ask hesitantly to the GCPD's renowned commissioner.

"Arrest her."

Next thing you know, your face is pressed against the pebbly ground and cold, thin metal is wrapped around your wrists behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you could see the feet of officers walking past you and into the warehouse.

You're brought back on your feet and walked to the nearest police car. Before you're put inside, you hear one of the officers shout—

"Fucking hell, she killed the Joker!"

Once you're seated in the backseat, the car starts moving. The sounds of the engine and the sirens filling your ears, almost deafening. You look out of the window, and you spot the silhouette of the Batman atop of a building against the moon's bright light.

You couldn't help but smile a little to yourself. As much as you did it for yourself, you did it for him. Now, the Batman didn't have to worry about a psychotic clown terrorizing Gotham City.

[dandylovesturtles]

I'm trying to get myself back into writing by doing some little things here and there. This is the first one that is actually worth it to post here lol

Awhile back I asked on discord for suggestions of things I could write and then for a long time I didn't actually do anything lol BUT I finally did something. This ficlet is based on a suggestion @abbeyofcyn gave me about Donnie feeling anxiety over a having a new home post S2 (at least I remember it being Cyn but the message is so old now I can't find it orz I'm sorry if it was someone else)

I hope you enjoy it!

---

The subway station has been closed to the public since the nineties. Most of the ways in are already blocked off, and it will be trivial to finish that work to keep out any intruders. The tracks and maintenance station make an ideal garage and workspace for the tank. The old electrical wiring and water pipes are easily accessible. There’s still functioning toilets in the old bathrooms, and ventilated spaces ideal for cooking. There’s easy access to the street, the rest of the subway system, and the sewers. Splinter hums approvingly as he circles an old staff area with a tape measure. His brothers shout as they call dibs on rusted out train cars. April enthusiastically notes that the station is close to her new campus.

It checks all the boxes on their list, and then some.

So why has the sick feeling in the pit of Donnie’s stomach gotten worse instead of better?

There must be something wrong with it. Some flaw they aren’t seeing, some con they haven’t considered. He needs to go over his lists again; double check and triple check from every angle. They’ve only been here an hour - it would just be irresponsible to make a decision so quickly!

He desperately fires up his tablet again and pulls up his list, scrolling with hard taps as his eyes fly over the compiled criteria. There must be something… Something!

It’s structurally sound. There’s ample space for skateboard ramps and arcade machines. There’s plenty of lighting that will only need simple maintenance to be functional. There’s a big space that can be used for a new lab. It checks all the boxes, but there must be at least one it’s not checking, or why would Donnie’s blood curdle at the thought of actually living here?

The way the air moves through the space is wrong. The way the sounds echo off the walls and floors is unfamiliar. The smell is not the one he spent his whole life inhaling. It’s all wrong in a way that embeds itself in Donnie’s very skin, leaves him feeling slimy and nauseous and off kilter, like everything was just tilted at a dutch angle.

He scrolls to the bottom of the list and taps a few more times to be sure. “Air feels right” and “Echoes are normal” and “Smell is bad” are not boxes to be checked, so it can’t be any of those things. It has to be something else… It has to be something!

He scrolls back to the top of his list. Then he scrolls back to the bottom. He can’t find it. But it has to be there.

“Whoa,” says Leo, and Donnie jolts, his head snapping up. “I’ve never seen Donnie look like he wants to murder a computer before.”

“Please don’t tell Raph that something’s wrong with the structural checks or whatever,” says Raph, just behind Leo. They’re all coming up to him, probably wondering why he’s been standing in the same spot for… 

Donnie glances at his screen and jolts again. Twenty four minutes and thirty seven second!?

“Come on, Dee, this place has got to be perfect,” says Leo. “I already know exactly where I’m putting my action figures in my new digs!”

“And I’m already getting sooo many ideas for graffiti!” says Mikey excitedly, bouncing in place where he stands next to April. “And I can’t wait to design the kitchen layout! I can’t believe I get to start from scratch and do it just how I want!”

“Raph already knows exactly where the dojo is goin’,” Raph joins in. When Leo blows a raspberry, Raph pushes him forward and smirks when he has to catch himself.

“I think this is the best you guys are gonna get,” says April. “Unless you wanna move to the Hidden City.”

“We can’t, Raph still has a warrant for his arrest.”

“I keep tellin’ you guys, that ain’t Raph!”

“I only wish I had known about this place earlier,” comes Splinter’s voice as he joins them. “So much square footage!”

They all start talking excitedly, so fast it blends into a whir in Donnie’s ears. They’ve all already decided, but don’t they see? They can’t live here, because it’s wrong!

“No.”

Donnie’s declaration kills the conversation in its tracks. Everyone stops to look at him, and the sudden attention doesn’t feel as good as it might otherwise.

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head and looking back at his list. “This won’t work.”

A chorus of “What!?” comes from everyone else. Donnie keeps his eyes on his list, scrolling frantically, looking for the problem that he knows is there.

“Is there something wrong with it?” asks April, tone measured.

“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t know what it is yet and how can he answer if he doesn’t have any data?

It’s clear they aren’t going to wait for him to come up with the answer.

“Well what is it? Ventilation? Structural integrity? The wiring? Come on, Dee, give us somethin’.”

“It’s… it’s just wrong. I know it is.” Donnie looks up from his list then, and their skeptical expressions make him coil around his tablet in defense. “We’ve barely seen all of it! How can we know for certain that it will really suit our needs?”

He’s protesting too much, and it’s no surprise when Leo catches on, immediately narrowing his eyes as he hones in on Donnie’s uncertainty. 

“You’ve said no to every place we’ve looked at, dude! Are your standards that high, or do you just like living in Barry’s crappy apartment that much?”

“I obviously do not,” Donnie snaps, because he has made no secret of the fact that he hates it there. Sure, it was nice of Draxum to take them in now that they’re homeless and all that, but the apartment is too small, and the sheets are too scratchy, and the way the air conditioner sounds is all wrong, and the street noises bother Donnie at night…

Of course he doesn’t want to keep living there! He never wanted to live there in the first place!

“Then what’s the problem?” Leo asks, folding his arms, and Donnie scowls back.

“I just think we shouldn’t rush into such a big decision just because it sucks to live in Draxum’s apartment,” he reasons, reasonably because he’s being very reasonable!

“And what, wait for our realtor to find us a few more listings?” Leo says with heavy snark. 

“Leo,” says Raph with a warning tone, before looking back at Donnie. “Look, we can take tonight to think about it,” he suggests. “But if there’s nothing really wrong with it, I think this is gonna be the best we can do.”

Donnie shrinks back. “You say we’ll take tonight to think about it, but you’ve all already decided.” He shakes his head. “But I’m telling you, we can’t live here. It’s wrong.”

“Donnie…” Mikey’s hand touches Donnie’s elbow, and it takes everything in him not to jerk it away. “Is there an actual problem with the place, or is this a feelings problem?”

Donnie jerks away.

Then he turns and sprints away down the nearest subway tunnel.

…

He only makes it to the next condemned platform before he collapses against the wall, panting. Maybe he really should take up Raph’s advice to do more cardio… If he can ever face any of them again, that is.

He sinks to the ground and rests his chin on his knees, looking around at the unfamiliar scenery. He knew the old tunnels of his home like he knew the curves and grooves in his favorite wrench. But his favorite wrench is lost forever under an insurmountable amount of rubble, and the tunnels around him are foreign and imposing.

He doesn’t want to live in Draxum’s apartment anymore.

But he doesn’t want to live here.

He wants to go home.

The ugly, bitter feeling in his stomach twists again, and he groans and presses his face into his knees, covering his head with his arms. He knows exactly what would fix this, and it’s something he can’t have.

He did the tests himself, over and over again. He knows that their old home would take years, decades to make livable again. They simply can’t fix it. It’s too big to be fixed.

Which means he cannot be fixed.

The understanding that he’ll feel this way forever washes over Donnie, leaving him desolated. How is he ever supposed to function again?

How can the rest of his family move on so easily when he’s still like this?

Footsteps echo off the walls, and he tenses up, curling tighter into himself. It’s no surprise that one of them came after him. He’s just glad it’s only one set of footsteps, and not five.

He doesn’t look up as they draw close. He doesn’t have to. A barefooted tread, light and airy with a bit of a hop to it even when the mood is somber. He’d know it anywhere.

Mikey plops down next to him and says, “Ready to talk to Doctor Feelings?”

Donnie shakes his head without looking up.

Mikey hums. “Wanna talk to Doctor Delicate Touch?”

Donnie shakes his head harder.

There’s a shuffle, and then warmth against Donnie’s side. “Wanna talk to your favorite little brother in the whole wide world?”

Donnie finally lifts his head enough to look at Mikey with one eye. “Winning by default isn’t something to brag about,” he notes.

A huge grin crosses Mikey’s face. “Hey, there you are!”

“Here I am,” Donnie notes dryly, and it sounds miserable even to his own ears.

Mikey’s expression falls into something more soft. He scoots around to Donnie’s front, then says, “You’re homesick.”

Homesick feels too small for the dark feelings that are swallowing Donnie whole. It’s just not enough.

“...I don’t want to live somewhere new,” he says, and it sounds like, I don’t want everything to be different.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” says Mikey, even though Donnie knows he can’t be feeling it like this, or at least hopes his little brother isn’t. “You’ll get used to it, though!”

It almost makes Donnie laugh. He can’t begin to imagine it ever feeling anything but terrible. “How do you know?”

“Because I have experience,” says Mikey breezily, like it’s obvious. 

Donnie hopes the skepticism shows on his face. “Really? Micheal, we were both too young when Papa moved us to the lair.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember that. But I do remember when we all got our own rooms!”

Donnie considers that with some surprise. He vaguely remembers that… mostly because he was happy that Raph and Leo couldn’t put their stuff on his side anymore. “Ah yes. A joyous day for all of us.”

“Well it wasn’t too happy for me!” Mikey retorts, folding his arms. “I didn’t want any of us to get our own rooms. I… wasn’t ready to be without you guys.”

Actually, now that Mikey says that, Donnie does remember that part of it. “I also remember that you weren’t without us, because you slept in one of our rooms every night for two months.”

Mikey nods seriously. “Yeah! Because I wasn’t ready for change!”

“And we had to make a rotating chart so that each of us could get a full night of sleep once in a while.”

“Huh?” Mikey pouts. “What do you mean? I sleep like an angel!”

“Kicking and chewing on anything in grabbing distance seems more like demon behavior,” Donnie notes, and Mikey huffs and makes a big show of being offended. 

“The point, Donald,” he stresses, “is that it was a big change! And I wasn’t happy about it for a loooong time.” He leans back. “I didn’t get why you guys were so happy about moving out when I wasn’t. It felt like you were all leaving me behind.”

Donnie frowns. “But we were literally a few feet away,” he notes. “As you proved nightly.”

Mikey points at him excitedly. “Exactly! It was a big change, but I still had you guys. And eventually, you guys helped me get excited about it, too.”

Donnie tries to remember what exactly they did to accomplish that, but… “All I remember is that we helped you hang up your finger paintings and put glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling.”

“Yep!” Mikey nods sagely. “You helped make it my own. I got where I was excited to be in my room, because it was how I wanted it to be!” He falters, tapping his chin. “And also I remember Leo said something about all my toys being sad if they were alone in my room at night…”

“Ah. Manipulative tactics,” Donnie observes.

“But that’s not the point! The point is that when I made it my own, change wasn’t so scary anymore.” He waves back down the tunnel. “And that’s what’s going to work for you, too! Because you’re going to build yourself a big new lab and decorate your room just how you want it, and you’re going to love it!”

Donnie feels absolutely no confidence in that. The idea of building a new lab, of decorating his room, of getting used to the new space, doesn’t fill him with excitement. There is only dread there, and exhaustion, and an insurmountable realization that nothing is ever going to be the same as it was before.

“That might work for you,” he says softly, tiredly. “But I don’t think it will for me. I don’t think I will ever stop feeling…” 

He still doesn’t know what to call this. 

“...Homesick.”

“But you will,” says Mikey, putting a hand on his arm. This time, Donnie doesn’t jerk away. “You know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because you went through it with the rooms too, Dee.”

Donnie scoffs, shaking his head. “I was glad to have my own room,” he asserts. “The rest of you kept getting your things into my space. It was annoying.”

“Sure, maybe you were happy about that part,” says Mikey simply, “but do you remember the big storm? The first one after we moved into our rooms, that was sooo loud we could hear it?”

Again, Donnie thinks he vaguely recalls something like that. It clearly didn’t leave as large an impression on him as it did on Mikey, though.

“I… might,” he says.

“I remember,” says Mikey, “that I was so scared, I ran straight to Raph’s room! And he was already awake, and he was under the covers, and we made a tent together.” He giggles. “And then you came in, and then Leo! And I realized then, maybe you guys weren’t really as happy about sleeping in separate rooms as I thought.”

He shifts around again, pressing himself into Donnie’s side.

“We went through that all together. And we’re gonna go through this together, too. And that’s how I know it’ll be okay!”

Donnie can’t help but make a skeptical noise. He’s not sure it will be. It just feels like too much.

“We’re all homesick, too,” Mikey confides. “We show it different than you… But we are. We’re going through it with you.”

Donnie knows they miss home, too. He knows that. But still…

“What if you’re wrong,” he says, “and it’s not okay?”

“Then…” Mikey trails off, thinking. “Then I’ll use the money I saved up to buy you that limited edition Atomic Lass figure you wanted!”

Donnie twists his head to stare at him. “That figure currently values at eight hundred and fifty dollars,” he says.

Mikey grimaces. “I will give you all the money I have saved up to help you buy it!” he amends.

Donnie snorts. Then he laughs. Then he leans into the warmth of his little brother.

He doesn’t want to live somewhere new… but it won’t be entirely new. His family will still be there. Just a few steps away.

“Does the laughing mean you’ll come back with me?” asks Mikey. “Because this tunnel is cold.”

Donnie snorts again. “I will go back with you,” he agrees, “because I actually don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Yes! I did it!” Mikey hops to his feet, extending a hand. “Another W for Doctor Feelings!”

“Winning by default is nothing to brag about,” says Donnie again. But he takes Mikey’s hand, and they go back to the station together.

[bunnygirllover45]

Hii!! I’m kinda obsessing over the Idea of Johann before he kidnapped his darling, going out to buy clothes and him just enjoying it WAY more than Darling. Like bro’s INTO it, picking out dresses and making darling do a fashion show for him?? Just wanted to put this thought out there lol. Idk if he’d actually do that but I can dream,,,, Anyways that’s all— thank you!!!!

Anon you're into some shit rn and I totally agree with you. Johann would do that 100%. TW: Darling had a past relationship that wasn't too nice, mentions of body insecurity, hints of dollification but it's Johann who are we talking about this is obvious by now.

Your past relationship before Johann wasn't the best, you weren't used to him buying you stuff so carelessly or taking you every other day. At first, it was a little hard to get accustomed to the sudden change, but eventually, you started to like it. Except for the part where you and he had to go to the clothing store. Each time Johann stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a date to point at a cute outfit sitting in the window of a random store, a part of you internally screamed for him not to drag you inside.

Speaking about that— "You like these? These frills might be itchy on your skin though..." —yes, you were trapped inside another store again. Taking in a deep breath you stared at Johann, then at the dress he was holding. No matter how often you told him you either didn't like this style of clothing or that it wouldn't look good in it, he still made you buy and wear the stuff. Of course, he only made you wear it when both of you were alone, there's no way he'd let you look this adorable in front of someone else.

You wondered how many more clothes he could buy you, after all, even if Johann made sure to visit you almost every day, his job kept him from being with you all the time. Most of the time he kept some of the clothes in his house too, he had a 'special place for them', out of context that phrase could be worrying, but Johann was such a sweetheart behind that stoic exterior that you didn't really question it. As he grabbed another piece of clothing you shot your hands to grab his forearm, squeezing softly as you smiled up to him. "J-Johann, I don't think I'd look good on that. I have many dresses back at home too, you shouldn't buy mo—" But before you could even finish you felt Johann leaning down to whisper against your ear, his voice soft and secretive. "I think you'd look good in anything." the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I've always wanted to take care of someone as precious as you, would you let me do that?" There was serious longing in his voice. From all the past experiences you had with him, you clearly noticed that ache to fulfill a role that Johann always had. Taking care of you during dates, making sure you didn't get sick, and even aftercare with him was a blissful experience. All the things he told you about feeling empty and without a purpose in life, it's like a part of him has been waiting all this time to have this, to have you. You stood stunned, questioning if you should feel even more embarrassed or prideful, he looked at you with an adoration written in his eyes that made you shiver, and you felt a little guilty at how much you enjoyed it. "Here, we can buy these and try them out at home, how does that sound?" You nodded, giving him a compliant smile as you reached to hug his arm. "Okay... thank you." One hand snaked its way around your waist, squeezing slightly as he kissed you on the top of the head, nuzzling against it. "You're welcome, baby."

[hiddenonyx]

Borrowing Their Clothes | Obey Me! Brothers

A/N: I have some writing done of this for the side cast, but it's not finished and I wanted to put something out. This is several months old and I think edited, but no promises lol written in second person, no mention of gender.

--------------

Lucifer honestly, didn't even notice that you had swiped something from his closet until he saw you in it. It was late at night and Lucifer, still ever working, decided to stop by the kitchen for another cup of coffee. When he saw the light already on, he had assumed it was Beel getting a head start on his midnight snacking. He was surprised to see you, getting yourself a glass of water when he turned the corner. He was even more surprised (and a bit flustered) to see that your choice of sleepwear is a too-big black dress shirt and matching underwear- wait a minute. 

You can see the gears turning in his head as he slowly (either from the late hour or being flustered or both) figures out that it's one of his dress shirts you're wearing. You have to bite the inside of your check to resist snickering as he simply stands there, looking dumbfounded. Does he chide you for taking something of his? Does he fuck you? Does he say anything at all?

Mammon is the type of person who never remembers what stuff he has or where it is until he suddenly remembers and wants to wear it. Thus he's angrily digging through his closet for this one grey long-sleeved shirt. He could've sworn that he still had it and that it was here, with all the other shirts he had barely worn. Did Asmo comb through his closet again and take stuff? After almost ten minutes of angry searching, Mammon decides to hell with it - he'll just sulk all day, it's fine. He makes his way to the music room - maybe watching some TV will make him feel better. That's when he notices you, already watching TV, wearing that same exact grey long-sleeve shirt with black leggings.

"Oi!" he snaps at you, drawing your attention to him, "That's my shirt. Where'd ya get it?!"

You tilt your head at him slightly, "Your closet?"

"And what makes you think you can just root around in the Great Mammon's closet without permission, huh?"

You shrug, "You weren't wearing it."

"So?!" He gives his dumbfounded look as if he can't believe your logic.

"Well if you want it back that bad, you can come take it off me."

Levi keeps careful track of all his anime and fandom hoodies (they are one of his top three favorite merch items after all). So one could imagine his panic at the realization that he's missing one. At first, Levi hopes that he just forgot to hang it in its proper spot. But after going through every single one, the anger of the realization that it’s actually gone sets in. Did Mammon take it and sell it? He better not have or not even Lucifer will be able to help him! He storms out of his room, his demon form standing out from the other seeming humans in the house.

"MMAAMMOONN!"

"He already left for the casino," the voice that makes him pause is yours. You look up from the sitting room couch setting your book and mug down, "What happened this time?"

"That bastard took one of my hoodies and probably sold it —" he stops mid-sentence as you stand up, wearing the very same hoodie he's been looking for, "Where did you get that?"

"Huh?" You look down at yourself, "Oh this ended up in my laundry basket. It's cute so I figured I'd wear it, but I don't know who’s...it's yours, isn't it?"

A blush starts to creep onto his face as he nods and bites at the back of his hand to stop from squealing: you look so cute in it.

Satan is used to having his clothes "borrowed" by Asmo. He's used to walking into his room and seeing Asmo going through his closet to find something to finish his outfit or to peruse the fourth born’s shocking amount of sweaters. What Satan is not used to is walking into his room and seeing you trying on a thick, oversized, woolen sweater. He stands at the entrance of his room, watching as you hum thoughtfully to yourself as you twist back and forth in his full length mirror. He holds his breath, you haven't noticed him, nor did you hear him come in, and he doesn't want to startle you. He watches on in silence, a soft smile warming his face as he takes in just how cute you look. Maybe he'll let you keep it.

Asmo has no problem sharing clothes. Any kind, any style, he has at least five options for you. Mini skirts? Check? Ripped denim jeans? What wash would you like, darling? Honestly, it feels like half your closet is his closet - he doesn't have any problem just giving you his clothes. Asmo often buys clothing that he knows that both of you would like just so you two can share. You also find yourself sharing or even wearing clothes from Satan and Solomon, and even Mammon sometimes (huh who knew Mammon owned long-sleeved shirts?)

Beel will absolutely hand you his jacket because you mention that you're a little chilly and then completely forget that he did. He frowns a little as he looks around his room, confused as to where it's gone. Belphie didn't borrow it and isn't using it as a blanket...so did Asmo take it? But why would he? Asmo said that his jacket "wasn't quite his style" so where did it end up? Perhaps he left out in one of the common spaces? Beel hunts through each room before finding you in the planetarium, sitting on the floor, looking up, and wearing his coat. He snickers quietly - it's far too big for you; it swallows you up so that only your head pokes out. He rests against the doorframe, watching you watch the stars. He'll let you wear it for a moment longer.

Belphie is a little miffed when his daily sweater goes missing. It's not the first time something like this has happened - laundry occasionally gets swapped around in the house, but he could've sworn that he had gotten his sweater back this past laundry day. Maybe he left it in the attic? One tiring climb up the stairs and search around the attic later, Belphies sighs and pulls out his phone.

[House of Lamentation]

"Hey has anyone seen my sweater? I can't find it anywhere." -Belphie

"Did you check the laundry room?" - Lucifer

"Yeah, it's not there. Checked the attic too." -Belphie

"Actually you left it in my room the other day." -MC

"Oh. I'll come get it." [Thanks sticker] -Belphie

It's only a few minutes before Belphie knocks on your door. He blushes once you open your door, surprised to find you swearing his sweater.

"Thought I'd keep it warm for you," you tease.

----------------

The Master List

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[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[sareenawails]

ROBIN HOOD HOBIE

YIPPEE OCTOBIE WEEK 3!!

I wanted to make something that looked more realistic and colorful

I'm really proud of myself for this one!

Here's his full outfit

I think I did an ok job at making it feel medieval but I didn't want to lose Hobie's punkness

References

octobie event by @the-kr8tor

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Robin Hood au

-I voted for medieval theme just cuz I wanted the excuse to draw this lol

-Anyways here’s very bad and lazy plot summary of this hobie au

-English is not my first language so if this is bad please bear with me I'm not a writer for a reason.

-Like the original folklore tale, this is set in medieval England

-Hobie is an outlaw, who with a group of other outlaws called the Merry Band ( originally called merry men but I don't like that soo), steals from the wealthy and gives back to the poor

-He goes by the name Robin Hood to hide his identity( so he’s less easy to track idk)

-Anyways, in this universe Y/N (or an OC whatever you prefer) is part of the royal family or a wealthy noble family.

-They are very sheltered due to the death of loved one (probably their mom or sister)- left their father very emotionally scarred, so he’s very overprotective of them

-for whatever reason, y/n and hobie run in into each other and hobie steals an expensive piece of jewelry from them(necklace, bracelet, brooch, whatever doesn’t really matter)

-This piece of jewelry however holds a lot of emotional value to them because it was given to them by their aforementioned deceased loved one.

-They manage to run into hobie again ( probably because they were trying to track him down and he catches on to what they were doing and decided to confront them) and tries to get their heirloom back

-He tells Y/N that he’ll give them their heirloom back if and only if they become a sort of spy for him. Someone who spends time around nobles and wealthy merchants and can give him insider information ( Who has the most money, whos an easy target, where and when would he be able to find them, etc useful info)

-Y/N is obviously very put off by this offer, after all their whole life they’ve been raised to be a respectable figure in their kingdom. Working with one of the kingdom’s most wanted criminals would be a dangerous, bizzare thing to do; It could get them in serious trouble with the law, bring shame to their family’s name, get them disowned all together.

-The risk is big but their desire to get their heirloom back is even bigger, so reluctantly they agree.

-From them their odd relationship begins. It’s a very enemies to friends to lovers kind of thing (I'm basic I know)

- Y/N sees hobie as a dirty criminal who wants to take advantage of them and would throw them under the bus if the need arises

-Hobie sees them as nothing more than another pompous noble who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves.

-It’s a very “strictly business” relationship due to their refusal to get along with each other.

-The longer they spend working together the more they get to know more about the other's side of the story.

-Hobie learns about how sheltered Y/N is, how they have a double life as commoner and royal, and how much they yearn for a more independent life. He learns that y/n is not as selfish and heartless as he thought they were, they’re just naive about a lot of things.

-Y/N learns about what hobie’s life was like growing up as one of the many unfortunate people in the kingdom. Having to scrounge and steal in order to survive, having to go on days on an empty stomach in order to save what little he had. They learn why he chose to do the things he does and that he and his crew are purposefully painted in bad light as criminals for doing what the rich aren’t willing to do.

-As they get closer they start looking out for each other more

-Y/N helps him cover up his tracks, using their high status to get him out of sticky situations. Sometimes they even help him patch up his wounds.

-In turn, hobie gives them a taste of that freedom they’ve always wanted. Going out and showing them parts of the kingdom they never seen before

Anyways that's all I really have I thought of this at like 2 am so it's not really that good.

If any actual writers feel inspired by this and want to write a better, more well thought out version then be my guest ( plz tag me i'd love to read it!)

HAPPY OCTOBIE EVERYONE!!