#there’s actually no way no one saw or heard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

empath-bunny · 2 days ago

Text

Rereading and gooood I think I actually moaned, the dialogues are so intentional I could have never come up with something like this. Not even about the smut, the way the story is written is so immersive I felt, saw, heard, and tasted it all.

Now it’s one of my faves.

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."

#favs

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pshbites · 2 days ago

Text

FOOLS ━ pjs

pairing : bsf!jay x fem!reader genre : friends to lovers, pure FLUFF!! warnings : none but erm not proofread! synopsis : 2 fools in love, who have no idea the other wants them wc : 1k a/n : yes this is inspo off of fool by nct 127, i love naming things after songs #sorry

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is always appreciated!!

“would you just shut up” jake groaned out, glancing over at jay once more. ever since jay admitted he had a crush on you, his best friend, he’s been insufferable according to his friends. jay furrowed his brows, “what! i’m not even talking about her” he groaned out, making sunghoon scoff in amusement. “you mentioned that place that you want to take her to, like five times.” he sighed out, picking at his lunch in front of him.

the history between you and jay wasn’t exactly.. ideal. the two of you had been friends since you were 12 years old and encountered many things together such as the time your braces got caught on a loose thread in jays shirt, or the time jay fell off his bike because he wanted to prove to you he could do a wheelie. all in all you two had stuck with each other through everything, including your relationships.

jay never admitted it but he had developed a crush on you towards the beginning of college, that stupid saying that people really change in college or something was deemed to be true. he started getting annoyed by the encounters you would tell him about, wondering why you let stupid boys treat you like that when he was right in front of you. he thought he wasn’t obvious about it but when he finally told jake and sunghoon about having a crush on you, the two of them acted like it was a normal tuesday.

“okay i did not say it five times” jay rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and jake and sunghoon gave each other a look, both of them sighing. “yeah man whatever” jake mumbled, making jay roll his eyes once more. he looked around the dining hall and his eyes landed on you, sitting with your two friends telling them something dramatically. you were talking with your hands again, which made jay smile. he loved when you did that it was so cute. if only he knew what you were talking about so passionately..

“honestly my theory is that he’s as equally obsessed with you as you are him” karina shrugged, popping one of winters fries in her mouth, making her slap her hand away. “that’s not possible” you sighed out, leaning back in your chair now. “yeah well..” as karina spoke, you looked in his direction, thoughts clouding your mind. you always had a small thing for jay ever since you were little but it was embarrassing to admit. those feelings halted when jay started getting in relationships which made you get into relationships to get his attention, but it never worked.

now here you were, in your second year of college still pining for the boy you wanted when you were 13. “yn? are you paying attention.” karina waved her hand in front of your face, snapping you out of it. winter looked towards jay then you and laughed slightly. “she was too busy making oogly eyes at him” she said, making you slap her hand. karina groaned out. “it was not oogly eyes!” you retorted, rolling your eyes at winter.

“there’s actually no hope for the two of you” winter sighed out as you three got up, going to put your plates away. “he doesn’t like me back, i’ll get over it” you sighed out, placing your place in the box and following karina and winter. “you’ve been saying that for years but okay yn” karina shook her head, laughing softly. as the three of you walked out of the dining hall you saw jake, jay, and sunghoon standing there.

of course jake started up a conversation, now the six of you were walking as a group with you and jay lagging behind. it was quiet between you and jay, only the crunching of the leaves could be heard. jay glanced at you, smiling softly at the way you stepped over the leaves so you could hear the crunch of them. you had always loved doing that even when you were younger.

it hits jay now that he knows you, more than you may know yourself. because of him knowing you so well, that's why he fell for you in the first place. you were like a breath of fresh air to him, you always knew how to talk to him and make him smile, you also knew him inside and out and jay knew this.

but you were almost too good for him, after all you were a goddess in jays eyes and he was just a fool. what could he do? he knew confessing to you was a gamble because it could change the entire trajectory of your relationship, for the better or the worse. jay snapped out of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

“so.. what were you guys talking about? you kept moving your hands around dramatically” jay laughed a little as he finished the sentence, you rolled your eyes and elbowed him playfully. “none of your business” you mumbled back, making jay smile.

he looked to you and smiled at your softly flushed cheeks, the way your nose was pink because of the fall breeze. “you wanna go to the diner tonight?” you looked to him, smile clear on your face. “i thought you were busy tonight?” he thought about it for a second then shook his head. “not anymore” he smiled softly. “okay, i’ll ask winter and rina.” you said and jay furrowed his brows. he hesitated before speaking. “no like, just us” he said, sounding a little uncertain.

now was the moment, jay thought. the moment he had been waiting for, for ten years now. he knew you wouldn't want a really fancy date, so instead he opted for something a bit more you, something you were comfortable with. after all, everything he did was for you, and only you. so here it goes.

“no like, just us” he said, sounding a little uncertain.

you fully stopped walking causing jay to stop walking as well, forgetting about the group in front of you. “are you asking me out on a date park jongseong?” you furrowed your brows, looking in his eyes for an answer. there was no way he felt the same. “i.. uh you know if you want it to be?” he stuttered out, shoving his hands in his pockets. you smiled at his nervousness, the way he tried to act all cool about. “okay, are you paying? because you know a real gentleman pays.” you said playfully, the two of you resuming walking again.

“is that even a question? of course yn” he sighed out, a little less nervous now. “well then yes, i’d love to go out with you jay” you smiled, looking at him. he smiled as well, the blush on his cheeks evident. “c'mon lovebirds! let’s go!” jake called out, his voice a little far in the distance. you giggled softly, making jay softly elbow you. karina’s theory was more than right.

taglist : @cupidhoons @wensurr @ja4hyvn @kozumesphone @17ericas @suneng @hyunnies-world @kiss4noo @jellyluv4eva @heelariously @laylasbunbunny @silquids @squiishymeow @heeambi @yourmomssneakylink @rriribelle @srehyaps @bubblytaetae @t1iqaa @en-heedeungie @wintertxt @sweettaitea @beatrizmel-472 @i03jae @jakef3ver @mamuljji @coqhee @luvyou2ooo @thedemonriot @justalittle-hee @jjongsaengzz @beigerin @mariahxrrera @cherrybeomm @vveebee @mitmit01 @blockbusterhee @yeehawnana @mochamvgz @livelaughluvryanreynolds @ami-soph @sunghoonsperfume @tzyunaes @cripplinghooman @sunooblitz @kolawnk @ningningiloveumarryme @m1kkso @ronniee-26 @wavetokgv @baerinaa @laylasbunbunny (bold cannot be tagged)

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nhlclover · 2 days ago

Text

FALLING FOR YOU WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x marleau!daughter!reader

summary: a visit to the guest house, in an attempt to comfort will after a grueling loss, brings you two closer together than ever.

warnings: friends to lovers, pretty detailed make out scene, talks of being insecure

wc: 2.02k

notes: !!IMPORTANT!! i absolutely do not agree with the politics of the marleau family, they are simply being used as a plot device in this. pretend for the sake of this that the family are not bigots.

The house is silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night. Shadows stretch long and languid across the hallway, cast by the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. You move with practiced stealth, each step careful. Years of navigating this house have taught you exactly which floorboards creak under a footstep, which door hinges squeak in protest when nudged too far. Even still, your breath stills in your chest as you slip past your parent's bedroom door, past your brothers' rooms, your heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. The guest house isn’t far — just across the backyard — but trying to tiptoe in absolute silence past your parents' bedroom door and past your brothers' doors makes it feel like an eternity away.

Will had looked wrecked when he came home. The Sharks game had been brutal, a 7-2 loss to Florida, and not even his highlight-reel goal could shift the dejection that settled over him like a heavy coat. You saw it in his posture the moment he stepped off the rink: the slump of his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth, the way he avoided the gaze of everyone in the locker room. You had seen it in the post-game debrief he always did with your dad, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. You didn’t have to ask to know what was running through his mind. You felt like you knew his thoughts as though they were your own.

It wasn’t always like this. When Will first moved in, things had been awkward. He was polite — too polite. He made his bed with military precision, thanked your mom after every meal, and practically sprinted out of the room whenever he sensed he might be intruding on family time. You weren’t sure if it was out of respect or if he was just trying to survive in an unfamiliar house. Either way, it took weeks before he loosened up, before the sharp edges of his formality softened into something more comfortable.

Somewhere along the way, he had become your closest friend. He was the person you whispered late-night confessions to, the one who could tell when you needed someone to listen rather than someone to talk. And it went both ways. You had spent hours sprawled across the couch in the guest house, talking about everything and nothing. You told him about school, about how you weren’t sure if biology was what you actually wanted to study. It was supposed to be the safe, responsible choice, the thing that made sense. But the more you immersed yourself in it, the more it felt like wearing a sweater that didn’t quite fit. He listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel like you weren’t overthinking things. And in return, he let you see the parts of himself he hid from the world.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he had admitted one night, voice rough with exhaustion. “I mean, I know what I should be doing. I know what’s expected of me. But every time we lose, every time I don’t produce, it feels like — I don’t know. Like I’m letting everyone down.”

You had seen the articles, heard the analysts questioning whether he was adjusting well enough to the NHL, whether he was living up to expectations. You knew he heard them, too, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

Will knew he was living with Patrick Marleau so he could be moulded into a better player, something like what the Sharks legend once was. But some nights, it felt like you had done more for Will than your father ever had.

The guest house is dark except for the thin sliver of light spilling beneath the door. You knock, softly. A pause. Then the rustling of movement before the door swings open, revealing Will standing in the dim glow of the lamp inside. His hair is damp from a shower, curling at the edges, and he’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

“You should be asleep,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion.

“So should you.” You cross the room, your socked feet near silent against the hardwood. “But we both know that’s not happening.”

He exhales, a ghost of a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He collapses onto the couch, the television murmuring in the background showing a post-game analysis droning on about the Sharks’ mistakes. He doesn’t mute it, but his focus is entirely on you as you settle beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The room is heavy with unspoken words, the kind that settles in the air and refuses to dissipate. Will’s eyes flick to the television, then back to you, his jaw tight.

“Tough game,” you say softly.

Will’s jaw tightens. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know I played like shit.”

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “I don’t think you did.”

Will shakes his head, eyes dark with frustration. “We lost by five. Doesn’t matter if I scored, doesn’t matter if I had the best shift of my life. We still lost.”

Your heart clenches. “Will, the team is rebuilding. You knew that coming in.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d be a part of the problem.”

“You’re not.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back, tilting his head against the couch cushions, eyes slipping shut. His breathing evens out, slow and measured, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on your knees. “You’re a rookie in the NHL. You’re playing against the best in the world every night. No one expects you to carry this team, least of all yourself.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. “You’re getting better every game,” you continue, voice gentle but firm. “And the guys in that locker room? They know that. This season isn’t about wins, it’s about building something. And you’re a part of that foundation.”

Will lifts his head and shifts slightly, angling his body toward you. His eyes search yours, dark and unreadable. “How do you always know what to say?”

You shrug, offering a small smile. “I pay attention.”

A beat of silence. Then you notice it — the way his gaze lingers on your face, tracing over your features with something heavy and intent. You suddenly feel warm, hyper-aware of the fact that he’s shirtless, toned torso on full display, and the way his breathing has changed, now slightly uneven.

“What?” you ask, your own voice quieter now.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and his head tilts slightly. His gaze lingers, sweeping over your face with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. The air between you shifts, thickens, as if something unspoken has settled into the space, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Will,” you say softly, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. “What?”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Spell what out?”

His eyes darken, and his fingers twitch slightly where they rest against his thigh. He leans in just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of clean soap and something undeniably him.

“You know I want you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. He watches you, waiting, giving you a moment to react, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.

Because you want him too.

The realization hits you with startling clarity, and before you can second-guess it, you close the space between you. It’s tentative at first, a brush of lips, a question unspoken. But the moment his mouth moves against yours, the hesitation dissolves. His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

Your fingers settle against his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch making your head spin. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s thought about it just as much as you have. There’s something desperate in the way he pulls you closer, something that tells you he’s afraid this might not be real.

You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Will.”

His forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. “Yeah?”

Your heart hammers against your ribs. “I want you too.”

His breath hitches, and then he’s kissing you again, slow and deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth against his. Will pulls away, but barely, his eyes searching yours.

“You sure about this?” Will’s voice is rough, barely more than a whisper, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

You nod, barely, but it’s enough. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes. He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, and then he’s kissing you again. This time, there’s nothing hesitant about it. It’s deep and slow and intoxicating, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid to rush something he’s wanted for so long.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, fingers flexing as if grounding himself in the moment. You shift instinctively, moving closer until your knees are brushing his solid thigh, until there’s no space left between you. Your hands slide over his shoulders, tracing down to his chest, resting on him as you lean closer. He shivers under your cold fingers, just barely, and the realization that you affect him just as much as he affects you sends a thrill through your veins.

Will’s hands move down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion, his strength effortless. You let out a surprised gasp, breaking the kiss for just a second, but his hands splayed against your back, holding you close. He grins, eyes dark with something wickedly fond.

“Better?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Your lips curl into a grin, but your heart is racing. “Shut up.”

His laughter is quiet, a vibration against your chest, but it fades as his gaze dips to your lips again. He kisses you like he means it, like he’s wanted to do this forever. His hands trace slow, soothing patterns against your back, anchoring you to him.

The television drones on in the background, forgotten, the post-game analysis long past. The only thing that exists at this moment is the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something precious. He kisses you with an aching sort of tenderness like he’s memorizing you, like he never wants to forget what this feels like.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you properly, his expression is unreadable — something caught between wonder and disbelief. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he admits, voice rough with emotion.

You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the damp curls away from his forehead. “I can.”

Will's lips curve into a slow, lopsided smile, something soft and unguarded. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, like he’s committing the moment to memory.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, brushing your nose against his. “Yeah.”

For the first time all night, the weight of the loss seems to ease off his shoulders. He exhales, a quiet, content sound, and lets his forehead rest against yours.

“Stay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “With me… tonight?”

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

And as he pulls you closer, the Sharks' loss feels like a distant memory — because for once, in this tiny, quiet moment, Will Smith isn’t thinking about hockey at all.

#will smith hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #san jose sharks #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works

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girl-lostconnection · 8 hours ago

Text

Thinking thoughts about husband!Simon Riley who’s the biggest fucking gossip there is. He might not talk to anyone but somehow he’s always there when people talk.

Partially because he’s that good at blending in with the shadows and minding his business, partially because until he actually makes a sound no one would notice that he’s somewhere in the corner, sipping his usual cuppa.

And he has no one at work to share the gossip with!😔 Not like he can go and share with his subordinates that he heard the hottest gossip about someone’s divorce. And not like Price himself feels like chatting about someone’s divorce when he has his own happening.

Good thing that he has you! Simon comes home and everything is exactly the way it is, the only difference being him staring at you like you are supposed to do something.

Like you are supposed to ask him.

Takes you a couple questions to fish out what’s going on with him but as soon as you are in? He’s going to spill every detail, he’s gonna walk you through entire dialogue that was happening in the rec room, he’s nodding very enthusiastically when you gush and ask questions and gasp because yeah, that’s him. He brought you the gossip, he made you have fun.

All part of his devious plan, yes, that’s right.

Simon who remembers EVERYTHING that was said, who drops bombs of conclusions he came to himself basing on what he already heard around the base. You practically shaking him by the shoulders because god, the man brings tea that’s PIPING hot.

So I’ll stand by what I said, Simon Riley is one very good gossip king who’s more than happy to have someone to discuss information with because honestly? The gall of some people to discuss certain very private things out in the open???

He’s also the hypervigilant guy, the most attentive one, he picks up on signs and mood shifts so if you get in the cab/car after the gathering you attended together and something was definitely going on there…The only thing you will need to do is say “Am I crazy or…?” and his head snaps to look at you so fast, his vertebrae makes a little snapping sound.

Because yeah, he saw that too. Also, did you see that the husband there was a little too close to his co-worker? The one in the read sweater? The one that has exactly the same bracelet the wife had?

Yeah, love, the one with blue stones. He could bet there is an affair going on and wife found out but actually…what? So wife is having an affair too? You sure, love? She was looking at WHO?

Oh, he’s having so much fun with that. I feel like he has a hobby of people watching so gossiping just makes it even funner. And he enjoys this bonding sessions you two have, splayed together on the couch — you giggling so hard he can feel how he melts.

Yeah, husband Simon is a big gossip guy. And he’s your gossip guy. Which means while you wanna hear all about his day and observations — he will tell you everything.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley

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gf2bellamy · 1 day ago

Note

Saw that you're still taking requests so I wanted to ask if you could write something with bau!reader and s4!spencer reid so she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with Morgan kinda like he did in that one delete scene from season 2 about him and emily but then he realizes he likes her after she goes on a date with Morgan so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together 😭

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of rats? a/n: thank you so much for your request !! <3 i actually had to look that scene up and omg ?? i wish they didn't delete it. its so funny and cute 😭 i hope you like this !! <33

You leaned casually against Derek’s desk, barely perched on the edge, the hard surface pressing into the back of your thighs. He sat comfortably in his chair, his usual charming grin firmly in place as he listened to you argue with him.

"Paris isn't that nice," you said with an exaggerated eye roll, your voice playful. "It's not as romantic as everyone says."

Derek raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Are you serious? It's literally called the 'City of Love,' sweetheart. Who wouldn't want to go there?"

You leaned in slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Have you even heard about the rats?" Your eyebrow lifted in challenge, daring him to argue.

Derek chuckled, completely unfazed. "Rats? It’s a big city, babe. There are always rats. Doesn't change the fact that it's beautiful."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you pushed off his desk. "Yeah? You won’t be saying that when you're on a date and one runs up your leg." With a satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and walked back to your desk.

Spencer, seated nearby, glanced up just in time to catch the smile Derek threw your way. His fingers stilled on the page of the book he was flipping through,his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, you stood beside your desk, staring at your empty coffee mug as a yawn escaped your lips. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched, feeling the slight ache in your muscles.

"Anyone want coffee?" you called out, glancing around at the three remaining people in the room.

Emily, still focused on her computer, glanced up briefly. “I’ll take one,” she said, offering you a small but warm smile.

The two men, however, were preoccupied with their own work. Derek didn’t even look up as he shook his head. “No thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer, his eyes scanning over a case file, simply replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

You nodded, mentally noting their responses before turning on your heel and making your way toward the break room. The soft click of your shoes faded as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly in his chair, his gaze flicking toward Derek.

Derek, still absorbed in his files, felt the stare before he even looked up. With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say, Reid, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Spencer twirled his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable as he carefully chose his words. "You smile a lot when you’re talking to her."

Derek’s grin faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

Emily, who had been absorbed in her work just moments ago, was now fully tuned into the conversation, grinning as she watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow at Spencer.

“So…?” Derek challenged, tilting his head slightly. "Are you saying I’m interested in her?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was daring Spencer to say it outright.

Spencer merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "She was sitting at your desk. Which she does a lot," he pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "She also teases you more than anyone else. And when you talk to her, you lean in. You laugh more. Your body language is open, relaxed." He paused, adjusting his grip on the pen. "Statistically speaking, those are common indicators of attraction."

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Damn, Dr.Reid. You been profiling me?"

Spencer blinked. "You profile me all the time," he countered without missing a beat.

Emily snickered under her breath, clearly enjoying the exchange. "He’s got a point," she teased, smirking at Derek.

Derek exhaled dramatically, throwing his hands up. "She’s funny, she’s smart, and yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. ," he admitted. "But that doesn’t mean anything." he added slowly.

Spencer tapped his pen against his desk before speaking. "You should ask her out on a date."

Derek raised his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait, hold up—you are not seriously giving me dating advice right now." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Spencer merely shrugged, unfazed. "Why not?"

Derek scoffed. "Because you don’t date. You read about dating. That’s not the same thing." He gestured toward him. "I mean, I respect you, kid, but unless you’ve been secretly taking girls out and I just didn’t notice, I don’t know if you’re the best wingman for this conversation."

Spencer’s lips twitched like he might argue, but instead, he just tilted his head slightly, studying Derek. "That doesn’t mean I don’t understand attraction," he countered.

Derek shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Spencer, ignoring him, continued, "So why haven’t you asked her out?"

Derek exhaled, drumming his fingers against his desk. "I don’t know, man. She’s not just some girl you take out for drinks and flirt with at the bar. She’s…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s got depth. She’s got layers. And I don’t think she sees me as anything more than just… a friend."

Spencer considered that, his grip on his pen tightening slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been watching the exchange, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, would you just go ask her out already?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?"

Derek glanced at Spencer, who for once, didn’t have anything to add.

For the first time in a long time, Derek Morgan was actually thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bullpen doors swung open, and you walked back in, two coffee cups in hand. Almost instantly, the air in the room shifted. Papers rustled, chairs creaked, and suddenly, both men were very focused on their work. Emily hid her smirk behind her coffee as you approached, handing her the second cup.

You glanced between them, your brow furrowing slightly. It was too quiet. You settled into your chair and got back to work, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that flickered toward you in quiet contemplation.

Derek tapped his pen against his desk, stealing glances at you every so often, as if weighing something in his mind.

Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t look away as quickly. His fingers hovered over the pages of his case file, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, he was studying the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lip while reviewing something on your screen.

Emily, watching all of this unfold, took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.

Neither of them heard her.

Two hours later, the team began packing up, the bullpen emptying as everyone prepared to head home. You stepped into the elevator, the long day weighing on you, and let out a sigh as you walked toward your car in the dimly lit parking lot.

Just as you reached for your keys, a voice called out behind you.

"Hey, I need to ask you something."

You turned to see Derek approaching. Leaning against your car, you suppressed a yawn, giving him a small, tired smile. "Hurry up, or I’ll fall asleep right here," you teased, rubbing your eyes.

Derek chuckled, but there was something different about his expression—something more serious beneath the usual charm. He hesitated for only a second before finally saying, "How about dinner? Just you and me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised. You hadn’t expected this—not from Derek. Sure, he flirted with you, but he flirted with everyone. This was unexpected.

Your instinct was to hesitate, to sort through the sudden rush of emotions that flooded your mind. But before you could respond, movement near the entrance of the building caught your attention.

Spencer.

He stepped outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, the two of you locked eyes. His expression was unreadable at first, but then—softly, almost hesitantly—he smiled.

And then he kept walking.

You felt your stomach twist.

Spencer. He was the one who had been lingering in your thoughts, the one whose voice you found yourself seeking out, the one who made your heart race in ways you didn’t fully understand. But despite everything, nothing had ever happened.

Maybe nothing ever would.

Maybe Derek was right there, right now, offering you something tangible.

So before you could overthink it, you looked back at Derek, forcing a small smile. "Sure," you said.

Derek’s grin widened, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that you might actually say yes. "Alright, then. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, even as your eyes flickered, just for a second, toward Spencer’s retreating figure.

Two days later, you rushed through the doors of the BAU, the cool morning air still clinging to your skin as you made your way toward the elevators. A warm coffee sat snug in your hands.

As you stood waiting, you heard footsteps—familiar ones. Ones you could recognize anywhere.

"Good morning," Spencer’s voice came softly beside you.

You turned to see him standing there, clutching the strap of his bag, his own coffee in hand.

"Morning, Spencer," you said, offering him a small smile.

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the building waking up around you. Then, Spencer shifted slightly, glancing at you.

"How was your day yesterday?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

You were a profiler. You knew exactly what he was really asking.

"Derek told you about the date," you said simply, watching him carefully.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly embarrassed smile, his gaze flickering to the elevator doors just as they slid open.

He didn’t deny it.

You stepped inside together. You exhaled softly, pressing the button for your floor before finally answering.

"It was nice," you said, keeping your tone light.

It wasn’t a lie. Derek had been charming, attentive, and easy to talk to. The evening had been pleasant. But that was all it was. Nice.

You and Derek had come to the same conclusion: you were better off as friends.

The entire date had felt more like two friends hanging out than anything remotely romantic. Somewhere around the halfway mark, you'd both silently agreed on it. And after that, the night had been easy—filled with laughter and inside jokes, but nothing more.

You were relieved, honestly. Because deep down, you knew your heart had never really been in it.

Not when it still raced just from standing next to Spencer.

"That's good," Spencer said, nodding slightly. His smile was soft, polite—maybe even a little forced—but you didn't let yourself dwell on it.

The elevator doors slid open, and as you stepped forward, you felt his eyes linger on you for just a second longer than necessary before he followed behind.

The bullpen was already alive with the usual morning energy—phones ringing and papers shuffling. Derek glanced up from his desk, catching your eye. He gave you a knowing grin, one that said, We’re good, right?

You returned it with an easy smile. Yeah, we’re good.

Emily flicked her gaze between you and Spencer as you both walked in. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, instead sipping her coffee with an amused smirk.

You were having a normal, uneventful day at work. But the man sitting across from you? He was having anything but.

Spencer’s mind hadn’t been able to settle since that brief moment in the elevator. The words you had said—simple, casual—had been looping in his head on an endless repeat.

"It was nice."

That was all. No excitement, no details, no hint of anything deeper.

But what did that mean? Were you and Derek together now? Had he taken you to some dimly lit restaurant with expensive food and soft music? Had he-

Spencer clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop spiraling. He knew where this was leading.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. But it was impossible not to. The truth was starting to settle like a heavy weight in his chest, and as much as he tried to shove it down, it refused to stay buried.

He wanted to be the one in Derek’s position.

And as he sat there, gripping his pen a little too tightly, he realized just how badly he wanted that.

His eyes flickered up, drawn to the sound of your laugh—light, effortless, the kind of sound he could pick out in a crowded room. You were standing next to Derek’s desk, handing him a file as you chuckled at something he’d said. Derek grinned, throwing a comment back at you, easy as always.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry. His stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to—not until now. He had read about this before, studied it in textbooks and papers, knowing the psychology behind it, the theories that tried to explain why emotions sometimes crept up on you when you least expected them. Why your heart could flip at the smallest touch, or your mind could spiral at the thought of someone you cared about turning their attention to someone else.

He could list a dozen different theories—explain this away with biology, with brain chemistry. He could tell himself that this was just a byproduct of human connection.

But none of that mattered. Because no amount of rationalizing, no number of facts, no cold, clinical analysis of his brain could change the truth.

This wasn’t just some passing feeling.

He was jealous.

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because the truth was, he wasn’t just jealous.

Spencer Reid was in love with you.

And now?

Now it seemed like it was too late to do anything.

Because as much as he wanted to be the one taking you on dates and laughing with you the next day, he wasn’t.

Derek was.

And Spencer had no one to blame for that but himself.

You, meanwhile, were oblivious to his internal struggle. Your caffeine addiction had long since become a well-known part of your routine. Without even thinking, you moved toward the break room, your body acting on autopilot as you reached for another cup of coffee—was it your third or fourth today? You couldn’t even keep track anymore.

Spencer, still seated at his desk, saw his moment.

He grabbed his own mug and, without thinking too much about it, followed you.

As he stepped inside the break room, he saw you standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the dark liquid to fill your cup.

"Work is killing me," you muttered, not even turning around as you sensed his presence.

Spencer let out a small breath of amusement. "I can help you if you want," he offered, setting his mug down on the counter beside you.

You finally glanced up at him, your lips curling into a soft smile. "No, that’s fine, Spencer. But thank you."

You turned back to your coffee, but you weren’t as focused on it as you pretended to be. Your heart was doing that stupid thing again — pounding a little too fast, your pulse betraying you.

You didn’t know that his was doing the same.

Spencer watched as you took a small step back, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug, while he moved forward to place his own under the machine. The steady drip of coffee filled the silence between you.

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips.

“Did Derek take you to that restaurant on Osborn Street ?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, he did,” you said slowly, tilting your head as you studied him. “Why?”

The moment the question left your mouth, Spencer felt warmth creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Frustration? He wasn’t sure.

He clenched his jaw slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as another sentence—one he barely had time to think through—slipped past his lips.

“He usually takes his dates there.” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, regretting it instantly.

Why would he say that?

It sounded… wrong. Like he was implying you were just another name on a list for Derek. And if you were dating, wouldn’t that make you upset? Shouldn’t he be worried that you’d storm off and confront Derek about it?

But then another thought crept in—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

Would it really be such a bad thing if you did get mad at Derek?

While Spencer spiraled through a hundred different scenarios in his head, you were left staring at him, your coffee now sitting untouched on the counter.

Mouth slightly agape, you processed what he had just said.

You weren’t mad. Not at all.

You just hadn’t expected Spencer Reid—the careful, logical, always-thinks-before-he-speaks Spencer—to say something so… passive-aggressive.

The grin that was forming on your face was hard to suppress, but you were failing miserably. The little twitch at the corners of your lips was telling on you.

Spencer wasn’t looking at you to notice it. Instead, he was focused on his mug, holding it in his hands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Spencer," you said, your voice a little lighter as you tilted your head at him.

Spencer glanced at you from the side, his expression a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I—"

But you cut him off, giving him a soft smile. "Me and Derek are just friends," you said.

Spencer froze, his head whipping toward you so fast that you actually flinched, worried he might give himself whiplash. "What? But you went on a date—" His voice trailed off, his confusion evident.

"Yeah," you said with a casual shrug, "and we decided we were better off as friends."

As the words left your mouth, a surge of hope filled your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Spencer's earlier remark had been born from jealousy.

Because it sure seemed like it.

Spencer’s lips quirked upward, a soft but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Oh, I’m sorry," he said, but there was no real apology in his tone. It was teasing, lighthearted—almost as if he had been waiting for you to say those words.

You couldn’t help it. A grin spread across your face, matching his.

"Yeah, sure you are," you replied, picking up your own coffee mug and taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink seep through your hands.

Spencer mirrored you, lifting his mug to his lips, though his eyes stayed on you a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you set your coffee down, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what you were thinking.

And then, without even thinking, his words tumbled out. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter this time, "I wasn’t asking about Derek because I was just curious."

You glanced at him, feeling the beat of your heart quicken. Was he about to say what you thought he was?

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered, his eyes not meeting yours now. “I mean, I—uh—just wanted to know because…” He trailed off, swallowing, his words uncertain but his intentions clear.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your voice teasing but gentle. "Because…?" You waited, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Spencer took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I’m around you, I just—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You make everything feel different. I’ve never really felt this way before, not like this." He laughed nervously. "And I know this probably sounds insane, but I think I might like you. A lot."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a moment, you were speechless.You took a step closer, your hand gently resting on the counter between you two. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice warm. "I think I like you too. A lot."

His face broke into a relieved smile.“So, uh, does this mean…?” He hesitated, but there was a glimmer of hope in his expression.

You smiled at him, your eyes glinting with something playful and genuine. “I think it means you owe me a real date,” you teased, your heart pounding in your chest.

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a soft, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “A… date?” he echoed, as though he were processing the word for the first time, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Uh, I mean… yeah. I can, um, I can do that.” He shifted his weight nervously, stepping closer with a gentle hesitation. “Maybe...maybe dinner this weekend? If that’s okay?”

You nodded, your excitement rising with each word he said. “That sounds perfect.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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astraeus-tree · 3 days ago

Note

Can you write something with Damian X Reader where R is an extremely intelligent girl, to the point of having discovered the secret identities of the entire Batfam only two months after moving to Gotham, and who is constantly in the Bats' action scenes (Like she shows up anywhere they're fighting criminals just to recite one by one the reasons why she's sure they're the Waynes, even with all of them denying it and pretending she's a complete crazy person. A bonus if Damian "hates" her (it's actually just misunderstood love because she's just awesome and he can't handle himself)). By the way: your Batfam fanfic is great!

Sometimes Things Aren't As Plain As They Seem

Pairing: Damian X F!Reader

Warnings: Self harm, blood, mention of torture near the end

Reader and Damian's age aren't specified and I'm really sorry but you can tell I gave up at the end I've also never written for Damian so he's probably ooc

You've held a secret for the past few months now.

No one else knew this secret of yours. Well, except the people involved in this classified information. Namely, the Wayne family and those close to them. In fact, this secret wasn't even yours to share.

What this secret was? The identity of the vigilantes that patrolled the streets of Gotham. Yes, the birds, the bat and those that worked with them in Gotham.

Your first hint was almost instantaneous after moving here. After all, who would have enough money for all those gadgets that Batman uses? Almost every citizen has come to realise that he doesn’t have any powers— with the exception of a few—so the only other reason would be man-made technology. But those costed money, and most people in Gotham could never afford those, so that left the rich or those with connection to them.

After this realisation, you made it your mission to find out their identities. It was a personal goal of yours, another thing to add to your list of achievements. And you did it. Just two months in to living in Gotham at that.

However, you needed confirmation. You were almost certain you were right, but you needed one final confirmation. You had doubts. The main being that it was hard to believe that someone from the high society of Gotham would even think to help the poor without a hidden motive. Bruce Wayne—Batman—had proven himself multiple times, yet the doubt would linger at the back of your mind.

So what better proof than word from the mouths of the heroes themselves?

Lately, Damian’s been dreading the patrols around Gotham. The reason being was this girl, around the same age as him, you.

In almost every patrol, you had interrupted them. You had somehow found out their routes for their patrols, even when they tried everything to make it impossible to track them. When questioned, you would say that there is a pattern in everything, that’s what made people human. Human, not a hero, not a killer, just human.

You would constantly put yourself in danger, just trying to get an answer from him and his father. You would always list reasons why Gotham’s vigilantes were the Waynes. It was almost endearing annoying.

In fact, you were a danger yourself. You were a risk. You could easily spill their identities.

So tonight, he would warn you. Save you. Unfortunately for you, his job was to analyse anything and everything about someone suspicious, and in his family’s books, you were one. Fortunately for him, you were easy to find, because just as you said, there is pattern in everything.

It was another night of you trying to get your final, solid evidence. You snuck around the streets of Gotham, heading to the area where you next expected Batman and Robin to start their patrol.

As you made you way, you felt eyes boring holes into you. You reached your hand into your pocket, clutching the pocket knife inside. As you heard a thud of a pair of feet landing on the ground, you turned around, shoving the knife at the person’s throat.

Your eyes widened when you saw a familiar domino mask staring back at you. Robin—Damian Wayne. What the hell? You’re usually the one to look for them, not the other way around. What’s with this turn of events?

“(Last Name).” His voice is sharp, not even bothered by the knife pointed at his neck.

“Robin? Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be on patrol yet.”

“Of course you would know that.” He mutters under his breath. “You’re putting yourself in danger. You need to stop or we will make you.”

“I- what?” You stumbled back, confused at his words.

“Stop following us. For your safety and our own.”

“Well maybe if you finally gave me answers, I’d finally leave you guys alone.” You cross your arm and roll your eyes. You knew you were being stubborn to a fault, but you really wanted this confirmation.

“And what will you do with this information?” He returns the action and raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing. Swear on my life.”

“And how should I trust you?” He asks, skeptically. There was an awkward silence between you two for a moment. You stared into each other’s eyes, before you put the knife to your palm and let the blood dripple down on the ground.

“May Lady Gotham herself place a curse on me should I lie.” You see his face twist, trying to make sense of what you just did. This was probably a stupid idea, but you needed answers. After all, the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

“Why did you do that? Do you know what you’ve just done?” Robin was dumbfounded. Who in the world would someone in their right mind make an oath like that just for some answers? Apparently you. He was almost amazed.

“Of course I do. Just tell me what I want to hear already.”

“Fine. You’re right. Will you stop putting yourself in danger already?” He sighs defeatedly. A smirk forms on your face, another goal achieved.

“I was right.”

“You were right.”

“Well, that’s all I needed! See you around wonderboy!” You turn on your foot, not waiting for his reaction to your nickname for him, and start walking back to your house. You’ll definitely be recording this down in your journal when you arrive.

“Hey wait! You hand’s still bleeding!” You stop in your tracks and look at your hand and back at Robin, now confirmed Damian Wayne.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt that much. I’ll just bandage it up at home.” Actually, it did hurt, but you wanted to look cool in front of him. I mean who wouldn’t want to in front of the guy they like?

Another silence falls between you two. You could see the conflicted look on his face, even with the domino mask covering half of it. You mentally laughed at his expression. After a few seconds, he seemed to finally come to a decision. He reached for your wounded hand, and you hesitantly let him hold it.

“At least let me help. I have some gauze in my utility belt to cover it.” This boy really was full of surprises, first coming to you to threaten you and now he’s helping you fix a self-inflicted wound. You truly chose the right guy to have a puppy crush on.

“Alright.” He held your hand gently, like you were fragile glass that would break in one wrong move. He pulled out a roll of gauze and wrapped it around your hand. You can hear him muttering stuff under his breath before finally speaking up.

“You’re actually crazy. why would you make an oath like that?”

“Aww is little birdie concerned about me?” You teased him.

“(Last Name).” He remained serious, but you reply with a chuckle.

“I don’t plan to break it, so it won’t affect me at all.” He looks up at you, a disapproving frown on his face. You return with a smile and his face flushes before he goes back to fixing your hand.

He finishes up quickly and lets you go home.

As you finally walked back home you could feel somehow following you, but you didn’t feel threatened. You knew it was Robin.

The next few nights, you left a few art supplies on your window sill, and by the time you would wake up, they would be gone

This eventually evolved into letters that you would write to him. At first, you were met with silence, but you pursued. Eventually, you would finally see a reply and from then on, you two became friends.

Unspoken words lingered between you two.

They remained unspoken until a rumour goes around the rogues of Gotham that you knew the identities of the vigilantes.

You, not having any connections with them, lived in blissful peace. That is, until you’re kidnapped and tortured for your knowledge.

You spend hours in pain, never spilling a word. Not only because of the oath, but also to not put Damian in danger.

After a few hours, you were finally saved. High in emotions, Damian accidentally takes his anger out on you, before realising his grave mistake.

He isn’t greeted with your smirk, no, instead he sees your tears. That’s when he’s forced to confront his feelings.

During your recovery, he visited almost every day, apologising profusely.

The tension doesn’t go away even after your fully recovered, but you slowly but surely warm up to him again.

It takes a while to get your friendship to normal, but when it does, you get closer and closer.

In fact, you would say you two were closer than before. So it would come to no one’s surprise when you two eventually ended up in a relationship.

Some explanation -

The oath is basically self-explanatory. Should you break it, Lady Gotham would place a curse on you. It honestly just came to my mind while I was writing this and I liked it so I decided to add it

I also wanted to play around with the sentient Lady Gotham so yeah

Anyways, I'm so sorry this is kinda bad 😭I might rewrite this one day since I'm really not satisfied with it

I had to dance around the topic of reader being smart because I honestly didn't know how to write that

Tysm for the request tho! As much as I struggled with it, I absolutely loved the idea <3

I wanted to go into more detail but I got writers block in between and didn't want to make it multi-part so I had to do that last part like that 🥲

You guys know the drill, any mistakes are free to be pointed out and I will fix them as soon as possible

Don't know if anyone actually reads my long ahh A/N's, but if you do, asks are encouraged as I do love to interact with people and they give me motivation

#astraeus-tree #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne x reader #x reader #x female reader #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batfam #batfamily

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aringofsalt · 2 days ago

Text

@bucktommyfluffebruary DAY 1 - NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY BUCKTOMMY | G | 466 WORDS

"Nooo, you're disgusting! Don't touch me!"

The yelp came from the back of the house, where the kitchen was, and Hen frowned as she headed toward it. Buck and Tommy had invited everyone over for a barbecue, their first big shindig since moving in together the month before, and she and Karen had gotten there early to help out. Buck had tasked them with setting up a couple folding tables in the dining room—space was at a premium at 118 gatherings, these days—and they'd made a couple private bets as to how eventful the day would be. But Buck calling Tommy disgusting definitely hadn't been on her bingo card for the day, so sue her, she was curious.

What she saw when she peeked around the doorway tugged at her heartstrings a little bit.

Even though he had a mud-covered—and, yes, kind of disgusting—Tommy cornered up against the back door, even though he was still bitching a little about getting mud on his sweater, Buck was carefully wiping at Tommy's upturned face with a damp cloth. Hen watched, smiling softly, as he gently turned Tommy's head this way and that to make sure he hadn't missed a spot.

"Seriously, how did you manage to get mud everywhere, up to and including on your eyebrows?"

"I tripped over the damn spade," Tommy grumbled in response, holding out a hand for Buck to take when he gestured for it.

"The damn spade that you—"

"Never bother to stand upright when I'm working, yeah, that one."

Buck rolled his eyes, and it sounded for all the world like the beginning of an actual argument, but Hen knew them both pretty damn well by now. It might be bickering, sure, well-practiced like they'd had the same discussion many times already, but the love was shining out of both of them in a way Hen had never seen from either of them before. Buck's hands were gentle as they worked over Tommy's exposed skin, getting every last piece of mud, and Tommy's eyes were crinkled up in a smile as he watched his boyfriend work.

Finally satisfied, Buck threw the cloth into the sink, a dorky little fist pump included when he hit the target, then he was reaching for the buttons on Tommy's shirt.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and into the shower before anyone else shows up."

And there was Hen's cue to leave. She'd heard enough about Tommy's assets from Buck since they started dating, she had no desire to see them in the flesh.

The last thing she heard as she made her way quietly back out to the dining room was a low wolf whistle from Buck as fabric hit the floor, and Tommy's answering murmur, too soft for Hen to hear.

Dorks.

She was so happy for them.

#911 #bucktommy #911 fic #bucktommy fic #bucktommyfluffebruary #evan buckley #tommy kinard #hen wilson #sarah does fluffebruary

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bennyboyfics · 3 days ago

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Won you back || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

Summary: after a heated argument on the way to a tournament, Ben apologies to you during his post match interview

Wc: 1,412

Wanrings: angst

MASTERLIST

The argument had started over something small. It always did. You and Ben had been in the car, heading to the tournament, the morning sun spilling golden light over the dashboard. He had his cap on, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming absentmindedly against his thigh.

You’d been going over last-minute details—what time his warm-up started, where his physio would meet him—when you brought up something that had been on your mind. “You need to take recovery more seriously,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, non-confrontational. “You barely iced your shoulder yesterday.”

Ben scoffed, shaking his head. “Here we go.” That immediately set you off. You turned in your seat, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” “Babe, I’m fine,” he said, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. “I’ve been doing this for years. I know what my body needs.” “That’s not the point, Ben,” you shot back.

“You’ve been pushing yourself harder than usual, and I see how sore you are. You’re not invincible.”He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “I know that.” “Do you?” you challenged, folding your arms. “Because you act like you don’t. You brush me off every time I bring it up, like I’m just nagging you for fun.” Ben let out a humorless laugh, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

“I don’t think it’s fun, but yeah, it is nagging. You say the same thing over and over like I don’t already know it.” You felt something sharp twist in your chest. “I say it over and over because you don’t listen.” “I listen,” he argued, his voice rising. “I just don’t need to be babied. I know how to handle my body. This is my job.”

His words stung more than they should have. He wasn’t outright saying it, but you heard what he meant. Stay out of it. Let me handle it. Your stomach churned with frustration, but more than that—hurt. “Right,” you muttered, staring out the window now. “God forbid I actually care about you.” Ben sighed, running a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure sounded like it.” “Jesus, babe,” he said, shaking his head. “You act like I’m out here being reckless. I know my limits.” You turned back to him, eyes flashing. “And what happens when you don’t? What happens when you push too far and get injured? Then what?” He didn’t answer right away. He just clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose, the silence in the car thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, he muttered, “I don’t need you to micromanage me.” You felt that one like a slap. Your lips parted slightly, your throat going tight. He wasn’t yelling, but the weight of those words settled heavily between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the engine and the distant noise of the city outside.

“Fine,” you finally said, voice quiet, clipped. “I won’t.” Ben glanced at you then, his brows furrowed, as if realising too late that he’d gone too far. But you didn’t give him a chance to take it back. You just turned your attention out the window, your reflection staring back at you in the glass. The rest of the ride was silent. Tense.

You were still fuming when you took your seat in Ben’s player box. Arms crossed, legs crossed, expression tight and unreadable. The energy in the stadium was buzzing—people were excited, eager to see him play—but all you could focus on was the lingering frustration in your chest.

Ben was already on the court, doing his warm-ups, but you knew him well enough to see it—the tension in his shoulders, the sharpness in his movements, the extra force in his serves. He was still pissed. He masked it well, all smiles and charm for the cameras, but you saw through it.

The match started, and if there was one thing about Ben, it was that he played with his emotions on full display. Every shot had an edge to it, every point won was punctuated with a clenched fist and a muttered, “Let’s go.” He was playing aggressively, moving with more purpose than usual, channelling every ounce of frustration into his game.

And damn it, he was playing well. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but watching him dominate the court like this—focused, powerful, relentless—it was hard not to be impressed. He was always magnetic to watch, but today, there was something else fueling him, something raw.

Something personal. Every time he won a big point, his eyes flicked to his box, searching for your reaction, but you refused to give him one. No nods of encouragement, no silent approval. Just the same unreadable expression you’d walked in with. He clenched his jaw, lips pressing into a thin line before turning away. The fire in his eyes burned hotter.

By the time he secured the win, the crowd was on their feet, cheering, clapping, chanting his name. Ben threw his arms up, soaking it in, but even then—even then—his gaze found you again. You thought he’d just shake hands with his opponent, do his usual post-match routine, and keep it moving. But as the interviewer walked onto the court, microphone in hand, you noticed something shift in his expression.

The interviewer smiled. “Ben, incredible performance today. You seemed really fired up out there—what was driving you?” Ben exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweat-damp curls. He glanced at the box again—at you—before bringing the mic closer. “Well,” he started, and already, you could tell this was going somewhere different.

His voice was steady, but there was something softer beneath it, something more vulnerable. “I, uh, had a bit of a rough morning.” A few chuckles from the crowd. The interviewer raised a brow, clearly intrigued. “Came in kinda frustrated,” Ben admitted, shifting on his feet. “Said some things I shouldn’t have. Was too stubborn to back down. And, uh…”

His eyes found yours again, and this time, the fire in them wasn’t competitive—it was pleading. “I’ve been thinking about that all match.” You swallowed hard, feeling the wall you’d built around yourself begin to crack. Ben cleared his throat. “So, yeah, I played hard today. But honestly? I just really wanted to win so I could have this moment to say—” He let out a small, almost nervous laugh. “I’m sorry.”

The crowd awwwed, and the interviewer grinned. “You’re apologising right now? On live TV?” “Yeah.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Figured it’d be harder for her to stay mad at me this way.” Laughter rippled through the stadium, but you just sat there, stunned, heart pounding against your ribs. He meant it.

You could see it in his face, in the way his jaw wasn’t clenched anymore, in the way his shoulders had lost their tension. He wasn’t trying to win an argument anymore—he was just trying to fix it. And damn it, it was working. You exhaled, finally letting yourself really look at him, and when his lips quirked up into the smallest, hopeful smile, you felt your own soften in response.

Ben saw it. He saw the shift, the thaw, and he nodded slightly, as if to say, I’ll make it up to you. And just like that, the game was over. He’d already won the match. Now, he’d won you back, too.

#ben shelton #ben shelton fanfic #ben shelton fanfiction #ben shelton imagine #ben shelton x reader #ben shelton au #ben shelton tennis #ben shelton x fem!reader #tennis fanfic #ben shelton x you #Ben Shelton angst

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bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades · 1 day ago

Text

Stan gives the Mystery Shack to Soos, Ford ties up some loose ends that came of Stan using his name to commit massive tax fraud for thirty years, and then, finally, they take the Stan o' War II out on the high seas. Except...

They have no idea how to sail.

Sure, they had taught themselves (sorta) when they were kids, but that was... a long, long time ago. And sailing, especially sailing the 40' 'aged but beautiful' vessel they bought off the coast of California and refurbished, isn't actually... easy.

So they dock themselves up in the closest marina they could limp to on their little inboard engine, apologize to each other for the arguments that were sparked while fighting the main sheet in thirty-five knot winds and sideways rain, and shuffle their way to a sailing class.

And aren't they a sight: two sixty-somethings, identical twins, strangely haunted looks in their eyes, who seem to know everything and yet nothing about each other. Their classmates learn this quickly: Stan knows Ford's fingerprints, but not his favorite food. Ford remembers what Stan got for his fifth birthday, but not the name of his last ex. They're top of the class, of course (there's no official ranking, but everyone Knows Who's Best), and Ford keeps calling the twenty year old sailing instructor "kid," and we're pretty sure Stanley is... is that a gun? They're an entertaining pair of old men, for sure. Stan can't help it--- he's an entertainer at heart, he loves the attention--- and Ford finds he likes being recognized, but not for his oddities--- just his personality, and his stories.

Finally they feel confident enough to go out sailing on their own, and it's fulfilling, and fun, and they find a lot of cool shit. But as much as they love each other, and as much they learn about each other while sailing the deep blue, one just isn't enough company for two brothers who have always dreamed of being known. So, once or twice or four times a year, they sail back to that marina, check in on that class, and maybe do a little show 'n' tell. They become known in the area, two grunkles with a love for the sea but a heart belonging to land, and their visits are wild, fantastical things, with preserved mystical creatures and stories changing hands across each dock. Stan and Ford--- twins, but each their own personality, and appreciated for who they are. The Stan o' War II is their home, their purpose, and their future.

Fifteen or twenty or twenty-five or maybe, if we're lucky, thirty years later--- that's when the Stan o' War II sails into the marina slow and uncertain. And when they dock, it's not Stan and Ford who step off, but two young adults, a man and a woman. The sailing instructor, who is now a new twenty-year old, but has heard all the old stories of his predecessor, steps forward warily.

"You knew our grunkles, Stan and Ford," Dipper says to the suspicious crowd. He looks at the sailboat, and his face crumbles in the unmistakable folds of grief. "They... they used to say that their first breaths were by the sea, in a small Jersey beach town and--- and in order to top that, their last breaths should be on the sea. And they got their wish. And now... and now, well... Mabel and I, we don't know how to sail. We don't know how to keep the Stan o' War II alive."

It's natural, then, for Mabel and Dipper go to sailing class. They're twins who have fantastical stories and strangely haunted looks in their eyes; they're top of their class, even though there's no official ranking. When it's time, and class is over, they step onto the Stan o' War II and sail into the sunset.

The Dockmaster of the marina smiles sadly. He's not worried, though--- he saw how much they were like their grunkles while they were staying at the marina. And if he knows one thing about the Pines family, it's this: they'll be back, again and again, each discovery better than the last.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #Something something dying doing what you loved is great and all #But living in that love first is the important part

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stxar-pvnk · 1 day ago

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After the events of civil war, Steve had gathered his team to reluctantly sign the updated and edited accords, Tony had accepted his mistakes and so did Steve, but that wasn't going to mend Tonys distrust of steve.

The captain was sad about that fact..but he didn't push it on him he decided it wouldn't be good to push a guy who was housing him and the guy who (unconsciously) killed Tonys parents.

The tower became a strained alliance between Tonys team and Steve's team and for the first month... everything was.

Until Peter Parker Swung into the tower casually walking past them and grabbing a caprisun and a Twix bar

"uh-are-what are you doing here..your like 12.." wilson spoke up startling the kid who had his headphones on, he ripped it out raising an eyebrow

"I'm 16..how old are you" he asked but didn't let him respond when Tony walked in, the older man's eyes lighting up in happiness when he saw Peter, something Steve's team hadn't seen in..awhile.

"kid! What are you doing here it's not lab day?" Tony grinned putting an arm around Peter

The kid shrugged ducking his head away from Tonys hand that was trying to ruffle his hair, "well..I left my chemistry homework here, and Its due tomorrow, it couldn't wait Mr stark" he beamed

"awh, not cause you missed your old man?" Tony teased leading Peter out the kitchen

"no way old man"

Clint turned his head the gears turning in his head as he blinked dumbly

"is that your kid? " Clint blurted out, an uncomfortable silence filling the space.

Tony turned to Clint with a confused almost annoyed look "uh..no. this is my intern. And Spiderman. obviously." Tony said dryly motioning to Peter.

Peter flushed in embarrassment turning his head from the spluttering avengers

"Tony! We fought a kid?! That was 2 years ago he was 14!" Steve said outraged as he stood up

Bucky tensed at the raising voices, Tonys eyes narrowed as Natasha intervened "it's very nice to meet you Peter." She said putting her hand out. Peter blinked "woah..I'm meeting the black widow..your.. awesome!" He gushed then covered his mouth in embarrassment of his fangirling.

So to be fair..there first meeting was astounding..and Clint was still convinced Peter was Tonys kid.

it was only when Peters aunt had asked a big favour of Tony, that things changed around the tower

"as you've heard, Ive taken a break from my usual working at the hospital..for a vacation, Peters pushed me into it saying I deserve it I was thinking of taking an actual break for a few months, If its too much I can definitely postpone it-" she stumbled over her words nervously,

tony laughed assuringly "I'd love to have Peter over for a couple of months, you take a well needed break with happy, me and pepper have got this." Tony grinned, aunt Mays relieved smile was all Tony needed.

Oh how wrong he was about that.

On September 13th, May dropped Peter off at the tower with his belongings and a kiss on the cheek, assuring him it would only take one phone call and she'd be on the first flight over.

Peter smiled at that, "I'll have fun here, don't worry aunt may!" He laughed,

That didn't lessen her worries, she slid a tazer into his hands "if any of the rogues give you crap Peter you taze them you hear me? You taze them!" She said getting in the car.

The first few weeks of living with Tony was good enough, Peter avoided the rogues as advised from Tony, (though it might've just been personal bias against them that fueled this decision) but Peter didn't question his words only agreed with a small smile.

The first time Peter met a rogue again was when he was sneaking out with his spider suit on one leg out the window as Natasha cleared her throat

"hello little spider. Fancy meeting you at.." she checked her phone "3am."

Peter laughed nervously rubbing the back of his neck "wha-what a coincidence Mrs Romanoff.."

"so what are you doing?"

"nothing."

"sneaking out?"

"yes."

"and your sneaking out because.."

"I'm..patrolling..?" He said nervously,

now on any other day Natasha would've believed that, but the the packed clothes that were definitely not his shoved messily in his bag spoke other volumes.

She rose a brow "be back by 6" she said nodding her head

"your the best miss widow!" He whispered and hopped out the window swinging into the night.

The next rogue he met was was a week later and with the terrifying assassin Bucky. Except ..that was strange because he definitely did not catch the winter soldier watching star trek in the movie room...

Did he?

But he definitely was.

"uh..hello Mr bucky." Peter adressed him making his presence known to the assassin who flinched at that

Guilt past Bucky's eyes as he pursed his lips

Silence filled the room at this being there first not hostile meeting

"I'm sorry i-"

"-mr Bucky I can't believe I threw captain America's sheild at you, please forgive me!" Peter interrupted

Bucky stared at him bewildered. Peter was apologising?

"I fought a fourteen year old kid who do you think is worse"

"I was nearly 15" he complained grumpily

"still a kid. Sorry about that." Bucky said awkwardly

Peter smiled and shrugged "water under the bridge! I love your metal arm though!" He said plopping down next to him inspecting his arm with narrowed eyes,

Bucky did his own inspecting giving Peter a once over his eyes narrowing at the bruise on his neck..

It could've been caused by a criminal that had gripped his throat but the bruise would be skinnier than that.

It finally clicked in his head what it was and he flushed in second hand embarrassment for the kid

"uh...kid you've uh..got something on your..ahem neck." He said pointing to it,

Peters eyes go wide in embarrassment and he pulled up his hoodie further up "oh-uh-thi-uh-" he stammered with an excuse resting on his tongue,

It had been awhile since Bucky had been in this situation but he knew enough of it from the little memories he was recovering

"I don't know if they still do it now..but the broads back in the day would cover that up with foundation, If you wanna hide it that bad..I know Wanda has an assortment of them.." Bucky cleared his throat at the foreign notion of giving advice to a kid

The teenager nodded shyly rubbing at it "uh..thank you Mr Bucky.. I just don't want.."

"—tony figuring it out?" Bucky answered his smile a bit more free now,

Peter blushed nodding his head quickly

"I don't think Wanda would want me talking to her..or in her room..or..around her..she seems very..avoidant" he answered swallowing thickly

Bucky put a reassuring not metal arm on Peters shoulder "just go ask, Kid, won't hurt to try." He said sending the teenager out.

The soldier doesn't mention to anyone how from then on he seemed a tiny bit more comfortable in the tower.

The next rogue he met was not accidental this time, but nonetheless made him nervous.

He worked up the courage, trying to squish down any remaining embarrassment and knocked on Wanda's door hesitantly.

The bed creaked and he heard the patter of feat against floorboard and then finally the door ppened

He blinked up at her "uh..hi Mrs maximoff.." he squeaked taking a step back,

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion "lunch is not until another hour, Mr Parker..I don't.." her voice trailed off confused and also wary of him

"I kind-of..I need your help? Not life or death help! Or power help.. uhm.. Mr Bucky said I should go to you?..I kinda..I need girl help I suppose?" He floundered nervously as he dragged his hoodie away from his neck to show his purple problem.

She blinked an amused smile creeping on her face, for a minute Peter thought she'd start laughing.

She grabbed him gently guiding him into her cosy clean-ish room, Peter took a seat at the end of the bed nervously wringing his hands and toying with his sweater, anxious looks sent Wanda's way. She grabbed out a few foundations and a beauty sponge dabber thing. She sat diagonal from Peter, cross legged and inspecting his colour of skin "alright kiddo, the hoodie comes off, gotta see what I'm working with" She smiled amused as Peter fumbled with his hoodie pushing it onto the bed and straightening up

His neck was littered with the purple Hickey's some leading down but how had no one seen this yet? Especially stark?-

Oh.

"your keeping this from stark?" She asked in realisation

"uh..yeah.."

"the genius Tony stark?"

"that's the one..."

"so he hasn't approved of the relationship your in right now?" She asked incredulously

He rubbed his neck awkwardly "I think he'd throttle me and ...well you get the point, hes a bit..."

"overprotective?"

"yup."

They sat in silence as Wanda dabbed on the foundation that covered his skin easily she sighed shaking her head "if you want to keep this from stark I advise asking your.. girlfriend to refrain from obvious places, parker" she smiled as Peter flushed a deep red ".. noted." He laughed nervously and gave her a quick hug

"your the best Mrs maximoff thank you I owe you one!" He said jogging out her room in excitement

Wanda was a bit..touched the kid even hugged him. She was still feared from alot of people, so she was winded with the reaction of not fear or hatred from the kind boy.

The last of the rogues he met were Steve, Wilson and Clint, and this one was twice as embarrassing for Peter, why you ask?

Oh because Peter was half way through his phone call with Ned talking about his date to be when he noticed he was not alone.

He turned around and saw the three stumble around to look casual Wilson tripping over his shoelaces and falling on the couch backwards, Steve wiping down the already clean and dry dishes while Clint inspected the fake fruit on the dining room table whistling indifferently to act as if they hadn't heard about his mysterious dating life.

"you didn't hear any of that... right?" Peter asked with false nervous hope in his voice

Wilson stuck a thumb up "nope all good here, can't even...nope"

Clint put his hands up in surrender "I'm deaf!" He pointed to his hearing aids in assurance

They all turned to Steve who had stopped wiping

"uh..I could recommend you a restaurant for your next date with the gal..?" He shrugged his shoulders with a sympathetic smile

Peter shreiked in horror groaning "my life is over" he walked out loudly hitting his head with his phone to try erase the memory of it all.

"huh..nice kid?" Sam mumbled looking at Steve and clint

"you couldn't have acted like you hadn't heard?" He said unimpressed

"I can't lie to the kid!" Steve defended wincing when Peters superheating caught on and he let out a mortified moan of despair.

Tony had been getting considerably good sleep while Peter stayed at the tower, he felt at ease next to his wife..watched over by Friday..it usually kept away the nightmares..not this night.

He woke up in a cold sweat breathing heavily, he ripped the sheets off of him to stop the feeling of drowning he checked to see that pepper was still sleeping, sure enough, after a long week of stark industry meetings she deserved all the deep sleep she could catch.

Tony toed out of bed heading down to his lab, letting the heater warm his frozen toes as he began reworking on ironspider, his concentration unmovable.

It was only when he heard a cup smash from upstairs that he rubbed his head, now aware of the pounding headache he had. It occured to him that it was probably just Peter up there bored and making a hot chocolate.

Tony let his feet drag him off to the kitchen, ready to offer the kid to work in the lab till he got tired but was surprised to see it was just the captain's team huddled around drinking hot cocoa and sitting with eachother, Steve swept up the remaining glassware and looked at Tony guiltily "sorry uh..I knocked it over" he murmered as the rest looked at him

"no I just..was expecting to see Peter up here" he murmered confused as he looked at all of them, it was the first time they had a non passive aggressive conversation in the time they had been here.

"uh..no, the kids been in his room since dinner. Probably asleep" Wilson spoke up motioning to the room. Tony nodded walking to the room, just to make sure Peter himself wasn't having any nightmares, it didn't happen alot but..better safe then sorry right?

The door creaked open and there Peters bed was..but there Peter wasn't.

Tony stumbled out "Friday where's Peter? Friday?" Tony asked hurriedly alerting the others

"I'm sorry boss, he took the tracker out of his suit tonight."

Natasha whipped around "he's gone?" She questioned

The older man nodded hollowly silently freaking out as he paced the floors so much he thought he might burn a hole in it.

"let's stay calm, where could he have gone? A friends house?" Steve questioned tony worriedly.

He looked up "uh-uhm I suppose? Maybe Fred or mj..but at this time it's 2 am!"

Wanda's worried suggestions filled the room suddenly

"what if he's been kidnapped or-or-" she slammed her hand down the rings making a clink against the marble table

"security footage shows he willingly left after taking the tracker out" Friday answered calmly and robotically.

"okay okay okay..so..so someone he knows right?" Steve affirms rubbing his temple

"let's call his friends, then uhm.. well we'll start from there, Natasha Clint you two go out and patrol queens" Steve said and turned to bucky and Sam

"you guys search the tower me and Wanda and Tony will try to track him down" they all nodded at the order and left to look for Peter as Tony freaked out calling the MJ's parents first

"sorry Mr stark, he didn't end up at ours, goodnight."

"goodnight.."

Neds parents were next and they couldn't give up any location either "Peter hasn't turned up at ours either Mr stark, apologies, we'll keep a lookout for him, I'll ask Ned if there's any places he likes to hang out.. hopefully we find him." Atleast they had a little hope in their voice,

Tony was wrecked with worry watching Wanda blueprint the city, trying to see where the last string of web fluid ended up at,

It was only when stark had gotten a text from a private number that he felt a slight rush of relief but not that much.

"he has a person he hangs out with alot..I can give you an address but..if it really is that place don't freak out on him. —M.J"

The address sent and before Steve could refuse Tony was in his suit flying to the location with hope but fury.

He landed out an apartment, normal enough with an okay neighbourhood but that wasn't changing his mind, he lifted up in the air again, circling the windows till he reached the apartment seeing a flash of skin, a muffled laugh.

Peters laugh.

"Peter Benjamin Parker. Get out of that apartment right this minute" the suits and Tonys voice sounded out to the apartment, a slightly ruffled and tshirt-less Peter poked his head out the window, shock and embarassment dawning on his face, his jaw dropped

"m-mr stark?! What are you doing here!" Peters voice wavered

"what am I doing here? I should ask you the same damn thing, kid. Get your ass out here now, tell your little girlfriend I'm pissed my kid snuck out at the dead of night to sneak into her apartment too, and that I'm also Tony stark, aka; ironman." Tony barked out dryly, he heard a muffled

"What?!" From inside but ignored it in favour of glaring as hard as he could through his suit

"can I atleast-"

"Peter Benjamin stark get your ass here, I have nearly all the avengers looking all over new York and queens for you." He seethed, accidentally letting stark slip out his mouth, but he was so pent out he couldn't care.

Peter shrugged on a t-shirt that wasn't his with a glum look on his face walking out the apartment with a huff.

Tony landed on the ground "were talking about this when we get home." He said sternly grabbing Peter in a cradle position and flying him back.

Once he was back he called the rest of his teammates telling them that Peter was home safe luckily.

Wanda hurried in "Peter where have you been you had us worried sick!" She said eyeing him up and down catching the hickey before she began to shake her head,

Peter shrugged weakly with a tight smile, Tony sent off Peter shaking his head and muttering thank you's to the exhausted avengers as they all went to sleep awaiting the confrontation tomorrow.

The breakfast was awkward. Well. More than usual, everyone was sat down this morning and all staring at Tony and Peter who ate quietly despite the soft scratches against their plates.

"so. Peter. Would you like to tell me and the rest of us why you thought it would be a good idea to sneak out of the tower at 2 am to go see hookup with your girlfriend?" Tony set down his cup of coffee watching Peter.

The boy glanced at everyone awkwardly before clearing his throat "it's..a private relationship..I didn't want you finding out I was doing that typa stuff..plus you said teenage rebellion is good once in a while!"

"I was talking about taking a shot of tequila not going ghost, without a tracker and without protection!"

"I am the protection Tony!"

The both glared at eachother for a minute before Tony relaxed back with a tight grimace

"so..uh..are we meeting this kind soul?" Wanda asked nervously breaking the silence and stares

Peter rubbed the back of his neck grimacing "I guess I can't hide them from you guys anymore..not that I hid it from you guys.." he gestured to the rogues. Tony spluttered angrily turning to them "you guys knew?!"

"he didn't want you to know, we were respecting his privacy" Natasha said calmly

"if it makes you feel any better...we didn't necessarily find out because he willingly told us..we all just found out in awkward times he was dating someone.." Steve smiled supportively,

Tony scolded sighing

"fine. They come over today."

Peter nodded his head and left the day.

A quick text sent to the contact "Babe💕" was soon received with a thumbs up.

Sitting in the lounge room everyone sat in awkward silence, awaiting the arrival as Peter cleared his throat avoiding any questioning looks he got.

The elevator let out a soft sound to announce someone was here,

Out popped Harley fucking keener

All grown with shaggy honey blonde hair, peircing blue eyes, a good filled body and a smile "hey tony" he said cheerfully

"ha-harley? What are you doing here kid? Now this is a surprise visit youve come on the awkwardest time! Were meeting Petey pies girlfriend, which speaking of, I should introduce you! Peter this is Harley, Harley this is Peter" he said with a confused yet bright smile, it was a good surprise, just bad timing.

Peter smiled shyly at Harley "hi.."

"hello darlin', now I myself have never been called a girlfriend before but uh..fair enough." Harley smiled sliding his arm around Peter

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks

"that's..thats a guy."

"w.o.w."

"I did not expect that"

"so it's a boyfriend!"

Tony spluttered confused which one to get angry at "your with Harley?" He demanded

"your not angry that he's a guy are you..?"

"what are we in 1960? No! I'm angry I didn't know you knew Harley! How long has this-"

"well old man, he didn't even know I knew you, it never came up since you know..most of the time we were kinda busy.." Harley shrugged wiggling his eyebrows

"gross babe! Not Infront of mr stark!"

Tony was reeling "uh..proud of you kiddo..??"

"definitely not a broad kid" Bucky hummed

Natasha hummed "do I have to shovel talk the kid or.. should I pass the honours to the confused parent?" Natasha teased

"I think I've got it down pat, don't hurt Peter or I die, don't hurt Peter or I'll be hunted down his weird auntie and uncle avengers, be safe, use protection, don't coerce him into sneaking out and getting a belly button piercing again-" Harley rallied off

"PETER BENJAMIN STARK YOU HAVE A BELLY BUTTON PEIRCING?!—"

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muhlsworld · 2 days ago

Text

WHATS WRONG WITH ME?

synopsis: you rescue nika from a bad date.

WARNINGS: suggestive (no actual smut), cussing, talks about sex, not proofread

it was a relaxing evening in seattle. you were getting ready to watch one of your favorite movies when your best friend nika sends you a text saying ‘911’. instead of answering the text you called her. “hey is everything okay?” you asked the second she picked up the phone. “yeah i’m on my way, don’t worry i’ll be there soon.” nika said quickly and then hanging up. you were so confused until you got a second text from her.

‘bad date. had to leave. omw to yours’

then it all made sense. you simply liked her message waiting for her to show up. a few minutes later you heard the door open. knowing it was nika since she had your spare key. “in the living room.” you shouted so she could go towards you. she walked in the living room looking as beautiful as ever. wearing that black leather set that you helped pick out.

“omg im so sorry for barging in but i just had the worst date ever.” nika said with her head in her hands. “wanna tell me about it?” you asked trying to be as supportive as you could. “the date itself wasn’t that bad you know? he was cute and respectful. but after the dinner we went back to his place.” she said stopping slightly and you nodded understanding what she was referring to.

waiting for her to continue you placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “it was going good too, we were making out and it wasn’t the worst but as i went to sit on his lap i felt nothing. like actually nothing” she said almost embarrassed. “so he wasn’t hard yet right?” you asked slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. “see that’s what i thought too so we kept going but he just wouldn’t get hard. like we literally couldn’t even do anything.” she stated frustrated.

you look at her in shock with what she was telling you. you honestly didn’t know what to tell her to make her feel better. so you opted for slightly rubbing her thigh to make her feel comforted. then she spoke up again “is there something wrong with me?” nika asked. “what the hell? no what are you talking about?” you asked confused at the question. “am i not hot enough?” she asked sheepishly.

you looked at her like she was insane. she was the most beautiful woman you’ve set your eyes on. she was literally a goddess in your eyes. “what nika? why would you say that?” you asked. “i don’t know it’s just…” she paused for a little “do you think i’m hot?” nika asked. before your brain could stop you from speaking you blurted out “of course i do”. your eyes went wide are your confession.

you slapped your hand on your forehead from the embarrassment. but what you didn’t see was nikas smirk. “you think i’m hot?” she asked almost seductively. you nodded hesitantly. the tension in the room growing thicker and thicker. “so you wouldn’t mind helping me out right?” she asked. you shook your head and then said “what do you need help with?”

“let me kiss you.” nike said bluntly. you mouth dropped slightly at the statement. “help me prove to myself that i can make someone horny. help me make sure there’s nothing wrong with me.” she practically begged. your mouth went dry at those words. without waiting any longer you answered.

“okay.”

and with that confirmation nika turned to face towards you on the couch and leaned in slightly so your lips touched. it was a quick peck at first. and then once she saw you were okay with it she pulled you onto her lap. each one of your legs on either side of hers. nikas hands were planted on your waist as your hands went around her neck.

once you were settled in her lap, she captured your lips in yet another kiss. but this time it was hungrier. one of her wants move slowly up your back until she reached your head. so she grabbed a fistful of your hair as she tugged a little. you opened your mouth slightly at the sensation and nika took the initiative to slide her tongue in your mouth.

you moaned as she inserted her tongue into your mouth. nika took that as a sign that she was doing good. so with that she placed her hand back down on your waist firmly. your heart was practically beating out of your chest. you felt like everything was on fire. but you knew nika was only doing this to prove something to herself. so you let her.

after making out for a few minutes she started to place kisses down your jawline and up to your earlobe. she tugged at your earlobe with her teeth and you let out a sigh of satisfaction. she started to kiss down you neck sucking slightly at certain spots. and that’s when your body betrayed you.

you started to slowly grind down on nikas legs begging for some friction. nika was happy with what she was doing to you and she was showing it by grabbing you waist harsher and guiding your hips down into her.

this went on for a few minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted more. you needed more. and nika did too. nika started to slide her hand down to your thighs slightly massaging your thigh, inching herself closer to where you wanted her most. but before she did she looked up at you. “are you sure?” she asked. “there’s no going back after this.” she stated. you nodded slowly getting of her lap and leading her your bedroom.

the night consisted of pure pleasure between the two of you. and you couldn’t have been more happy that nikas date ended the way it did.

A/N: please give me requests 🙏

#uconn #uconn x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #wnba #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #seattle storm

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v3lv3tsin · 1 day ago

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moonstruck: nishimura riki

| pairning: nishimura riki x reader

I genre: prince!niki, princess!reader

I warnings: no warnings <3

I word count: 1.8k

I stefy's note: just a little something before i actually come back and post the last part of the jungwon series (i'm really sorry it took so long to write but i was busy with uni and some resits), so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

If anyone would have asked what do you like about Niki, you would have said before that it was his smile, but now ever since getting to know him better that answer changed and so have you. His sense of humor, especially when having guest to entertain was what made you two get close to each other in the first place.

It was easy how it happened and since none of you planned for it to happen made it even more special. But your mother never approved of him, saying that he "wouldn't be a good enough suitor for you" nor a good husband from the way he was behaving.

He was known to be more of carefree than other princes were, but maybe that's what made you notice him. Or maybe it was the sly smile he always gave you whenever you'd meet.

What came to your surprise was that although your mother seemed to be very keen on keeping the two of you apart for as long as possible it didn't seem to work all the time. And this was the case for when Niki invited other distinguished guests, such as Mr. Yang, Mr. Park and Mr. Sim, alongside you. Obviously.

To your surprise, your mother seemed to have approved of the invitation long before you could've even proposed the idea to her. Meaning that you would be accompanied by your governess. Saying that you weren't excited even a bit to see him, was a lie in itself. There was no doubt that his father approved of the party to be held at their spring residence. You heard about the stories about the fountains and their respective tricks so being able to experience it sounded perfect already.

So that is how you and your governess, Claire, found yourselves waiting to be escorted into the gardens and fountains of the residence, by Niki and his father. It didn't take long to see Nikis smile widening as soon as he saw you waiting for him and his father to be able to welcome you properly, as if he didn't plan this whole party just to see you and hear your voice. Having to go to all the trouble of convincing his father that having his others friends coming to the party it would distract him from even talking to you in the first place.

Realizing they might be busy with the guests that would have to be arriving soon or they already arrived, the butler escorts you into the gardens with a small grin as if he knew that would happen when you would enter the garden area. As soon as you enter through the gates you're met with a slight splash of water coming from the statutes guarding the fountains at the center of the garden. Although the water didn't get too much on your dress as it wasn't a lot, it made you laugh just a little bit.

One thing is for sure that this was no ordinary party. And another thing that you realized was that water will be involved.

Before being able exit being hit by the water in the first place, you finally make eye contact with Niki, seeing that he was laughing too. Coming to greet and welcome you to their spring residence, were both him and his father. "Welcome to our little house, Mrs. Choi." Mr. Nishimura, Niki's father says on a modest tone, knowing that the residence wasn't close to being little.

"Thank you for inviting me." You smile happily, knowing how much of a fuss was for him and his son to be able to have this many guests in their private residence. Smiling at Niki before to his father, you're met with the news that lunch would be served soon, as one of the butlers came to announce Mr. Nishimura.

"I see that you've already met my son." His father feels the need to point out that your relationship with his son was far from a friendship from what he could grasp at first sight. Without wanting to have more of the awkward silence that seemed to be happening for some time now, his father voices on the same tone as before, making sure to let the two of you talk in peace. "Lunch will be served soon."

"I'm surprised your mother decided to let you come alone." Niki speaks on a teasing tone, thinking it was high time that he talks about most feared topic between the two of you. Your mother. It was true that his father agreed to plan the party and sent you an invitation, and not your mother, knowing that she would never let you come to it.

"She is busy with tonight's party." You answer him giving him barely any information about your plans for the night as you were missing your mother's party instead of being there to help her organize everything. "But you knew that very well." You continue on the same tone wanting to let him know that it was his idea this party, in the first place.

"I missed you." Niki blurs out while rubbing the back of his neck, in a whispery tone as he looks at you. It was true, he did. Ever since you spent more time together he couldn't take his mind off you as much as he tried.

"Lunch should be served soon." You answer by changing the topic, not wanting to talk to him about the feelings you have been developing for him lately. Or ever since you first met him at one of Mr. Yang's parties. Heading to the stunningly looking table, that seemed to made out of stone having around it shining stone seats. One interesting aspect about the stone seats was that they all seemed to have a hole in the middle of them. It did seem uncomfortable at first, but when you saw Niki sit down next you, all of it was gone.

Usually you would be the one to complain about how comfortable or not something was, but it seemed that this was not the case. Everyone around the table seemed to be enjoying themselves, you finally make eye contact with Niki's father who seemed to be in an intense conversation with his son while you were sharing your thoughts with one of Mr. Park's date. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever you could feel something coming from the back of you.

Water. Splashes of water everywhere. Surrounding the whole table. From the front and from the back.

The delicious meal in front of you was not drenched in water and so were you. Not as much as you have except as the dress having so many layers managed to block some of the water coming from the chair you were sitting on.

"Gentlemen, i think it is better to enjoy the view somewhere else." Wearing a smirk on his face was now Mr. Nishimura, Nki's father who seemed to be enjoying the annoyed or the surprised faces of his guests. As much as you hated your mother for forbidding you to see Niki, there was one aspect that you two usually agree on.

Never, under no circumstance, piss of Mr. Nishimura. As charming as his son can be, the Nishimuras have always been known for getting their revenge, one way or another.

Getting up from your seat to follow Niki's father, who was now leading the way to what looked like to be a mechanical music-playing theatre. It was nothing you have seen before. While walking to the theatre you felt Niki's hand holding yours as the two of you followed his fathers lead. The place was beautiful to say the least, each statute had water coming from it in a peaceful manner. Some were showing scenes you have never seen before, such as a demon like face who had its tongue coming out, along with water coming out of its nose or two lovers walking together, hand in hand, in a forest.

Before you could see the theatre in its full glory, Niki whispered to you. "Come, i know a place when we'll be just fine." Just fine? Not being hit by the water again sounded perfectly so you followed him willingly. He surely knew more about the place than you, but knowing him he was surely planning something.

Sitting in front of a tower-like palace you could a court life, showing different professions, whether it is the building work-party, the daily workers who bring building materials to the foreman, who drinks, or the butchers slaughtering an ox, or the barber who shaves a man beneath his guild sign. The palace was surrounded by a three-storey building in a semicircle, partly giving a view into its interior.

Busy activity takes place on the street: a dancing bear performs, guards march past the Residence, a farmer pushes an old woman in a wheelbarrow over the road. Figures from the Commedia dell’arte are also to be seen, and if one so wishes, one can discern the social status of the figures involved. The most noble move less and more slowly that the workers.

Holding your waist from behind as you watched the now music-playing theatre was Niki, that was whispering to you new information about the palace-like theatre. "200 figurines, powered by water." It wasn't a lot of information, but thinking that these 200 figurines were moving by the help of water, was something innovative. Considering that the both of you sat pretty far in the back, for any of you to be able to see anything, you suggested moving forward to be able to watch the scene better.

Not long after the mechanical theatre stopped from Mr. Nishimuras signal, water started splashing again. Slower this time, but still a lot. Considering that you and Niki were far back, the water didn't get to you. That is when you decided to ask him, how or why did that happen. Seeing that your curiosity was peaked, Niki answers before you could open you mouth to even ask the question. "This spot is never wet. There's no water conduit here."

Taking your hand in his as his father was now leading the gentlemen to a church looking like building, Niki was leading you outside the beautiful garden. Trying to avoid the water coming from the different parts of them, he took your face in his hands and said on a loving whispery tone. "I waited so long to do this."

Before you could protest, his lips found yours and all seemed forgotten. Your mum not letting you see him again. Your governess having to accompany you to the party. The disapproving looks his father would give you from time to time.

All of it was gone.

#Spotify #enhypen #enha #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #niki nishimura #nishimura riki x you #riki x reader #enhypen riki #kpop smut #enhypen smut

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justcallmecj · 3 days ago

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Humans Are STILL Weird

Another part to my very first Tumblr post where I discussed what the non-human characters would think about some odd human habits/traits. Well, here is one more!

Here's the first part for reference

Monkey See, Monkey Do:

You can’t tell me the demon brothers have no clue why Mc copies them so much. Humans are known for their mimicry, the incessant need to copy behavior and actions they see. It’s how babies learn to talk, walk and do literally everything else in life. Now, demons most likely do this too, but this extremity of copying each other likely stops once they mature. However, as they have seen with Mc, humans never actually stop doing it.

Mc sees one of them make some kind of odd hand gesture or stand in a specific way? Well Mc is doing the exact same thing! Lucifer sits with his head in his hand propped on his desk while speaking to them? So do they! Literally any of them make some demon noise Mc has never heard? Well they try their damn best to copy it (horribly most likely). And Solomon does it too! He can often be found mimicking the way Simeon stands with his hand on his hip when they are next to each other.

And when Mc and Solomon are in the room together? It’s even worse! Both humans will take on habits of the demons and angels around them and it can easily be noticed. When speaking with each other, Mc and Solomon will often nod and shake their heads at the same time, raise their hands and make gestures that basically mirror versions of each other, even sometimes adopting the same cadence in their voice and speaking patterns. Neither of them really catch on, until they are laughing about it, somehow managing to laugh in the exact same way.

It’s odd and none of them understand. They find it a little weird at first. But when they ask you and Solomon about it and they get an answer, they later find it endearing. Solomon explained how humans copy each other as a way of forming bonds. Humans are attracted to similarities between one another and mimicry brings them together and even shows a layer of trust between the individuals. After that, the brothers never cared for Mc copying them, and would even smile fondly when they saw the habit. They now have new teasing ammo against Mc and the human doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Pls, feel free to share your own headcanons and (with permission and if you want it) I may write something for them!

#justcallmecj writes #justcallmecj headcanons #obey me #obey me shall we date #the human exchange students confusing the crap out of everyone AGAIN #solomon obey me #mc obey me #obey me headcanons

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stephstars08 · 1 day ago

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You Love Me?

Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Dark Themes, Mention of Death, Reader get’s Shot, Weapons, Violence, Angst, Fluff, and Possibly Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Summary: After Y/N literally takes a bullet for Jason she finds out a big secret he’s been keeping from her thanks to Dick.

Word Count: 1,583

Author’s Note: This is actually my first story of 2025😬! Last month I just didn’t have any motivation to write. Also sorry if this is sloppy and sorry for postponing the release date! I’ve been having pain in my back and neck! Anyways, hope you all enjoy this short story!

Y/N was in her vigilante suit on a mission with Jason. Y/N is very close with Jason so most of the missions she goes on, he’s always right there by her side. Y/N’s vigilante name is Shadow. She picked that name since the suit she wears makes her look like a shadow. Her suit is all dark gray and the mask she wears covers her whole face.

Y/N’s father was a police officer and he got killed in the line of duty by Scarecrow during one of his tirades. That event is what motivated her to become a vigilante. She never wants a kid to go through with that she went through. At first she was just doing it to protect her mother and little sister but as time went on she wanted to protect her whole city. She was seventeen when she started fighting crime and has now been doing it for three years now. She recently became a part of the Bat team.

Her and Jason were at the docks fighting some gang members. There was three of them so from time to time Y/N or Jason would be fighting two people at the same time. Y/N finally took the guy she was fighting down. She was finally able to catch her breath. Jason was still fighting his guy.

Y/N’s eyes went wide when she noticed the third guy pull out a gun and aim it at Jason’s back. “Shit!” Y/N hissed with worry. Right when the guy pulled the trigger. Y/N jumped in front of Jason. Y/N felt the bullet go through her side.

When Y/N screamed out in pain everyone stopped. Jason’s eyes went wide under his red helmet when he turned around and saw Y/N laying down on the cold ground. “Fuck!” Jason said with panic in his voice as he kneeled down next to Y/N.

“Let’s go boys!” The guy who pulled the trigger said to other two guys. Jason didn’t care that the gang members were getting away. All he cared about was Y/N.

Before Jason could ask where the bullet hit her he saw the blood coming out from her left side. “J-j-Jason” Y/N stuttered in pain. “Shh don’t speak.” Jason told her taking off his jacket and putting it down on her wound to ease the bleeding. Jason used the device in his helmet to call Bruce.

“Jason. What’s going on?” He heard Bruce said. Bruce already knew something was wrong since that’s the only time Jason ever calls him. “Its Y/N. She got shot.” Jason told him. “Shit!” He heard Bruce hiss out. “Where did the bullet get her?” Bruce asked him. “Her left side.” Jason answered. “I’m tracking your location now. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He heard Bruce tell him. “Just keep her stable.” Bruce told him in a stern tone and ended the call.

Jason decided to take her mask off since he can hear her struggling to catch her breath. His heart ached seeing the painful look in her eyes. He pressed both hands down onto his jacket. “Just stay with me Y/N. Help is on the way.” Jason told her. Y/N gave him a nod which made her groan out in pain. “Don’t move. Just keep your eyes open.” Jason told her with worry in his voice.

He was trying everything he can do to stay calm. Y/N used all of the strength and energy she has to keep her eyes open. She felt like she was paralyzed everywhere but where her wound is.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When Bruce got there him and Jason carefully helped Y/N into the Batmobile. Jason followed the Batmobile to the Batcave on his motorcycle. When they got to the Batcave Bruce and Alfred immediately took Y/N to the medical room. Alfred has patched up everyone so he knew exactly what he was doing. He’s taken bullets out of Bruce many times.

Jason was in the main room with Dick and Barbara. Jason couldn’t stop pacing back and forth. “Jason, you need to sit down. You pacing like that isn’t helping your nerves.” Barbara told him. “What if she doesn’t make it!” Jason said as he stopped pacing so he was looking straight at Barbara and Dick. “Jason, she’s going to make it.” Dick told him. “She’s in good hands, Jason.” Barbara said adding on to what Dick was saying.

“If I was fucking paying attention this wouldn’t of happened!” Jason said with a mixture of frustration and anger in his tone. “Woah, Jason!” Dick started. “There is no way in hell that this is your fault.” Duck told him in a stern tone. “Bullshit!” Jason hissed. “She took that bullet for me!” Jason said as his anger grew.

Bruce walked into the room. He was still in his Batman suit he just didn’t have his mask on. “How is Y/N?” Jason asked with worry as he quickly walked up to Bruce. “She’s going to be okay.” Bruce answered which made everyone in the room feel relief. “So relieved to hear you say that.” Barbara said with nothing but relief in her voice.

Y/N is Barbara’s best friend and Barbara doesn’t know what she would do without her.

“Luckily the bullet didn’t go through her.” Bruce told them. “Alfred got the bullet out of her side and is stitching her up.” Bruce added.

“Can I see her?” Jason asked with a pleading look in his blue eyes. Bruce answered his question with a nod. “Follow me.” Bruce told him. Jason followed Bruce back into the medical room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After Y/N woke up Bruce had Alfred take her upstairs to Wayne Manor. Since she needs a lot of rest for some weeks he’s letting her stay in one of the guest rooms.

A couple of days have passed and Y/N was still bedridden. Dick and Barbara just showed up to visit Y/N and see how she was doing. When they walked into the room they did notice that Y/N was starting to get some color back into her face. “How are you feeling?” Barbara asked her standing by the bedside with Dick right next to her. “A little better than yesterday.” Y/N answered.

“If I didn’t have those pain killers I would be so fucked.” Y/N added which made Barbara and Dick let out a little laugh. “Its good to know that your sense of humor is still in tact.” Dick told her. “Don’t worry. They didn’t shoot out my sense of humor.” Y/N told him with a small smile.

“I’m surprised Jason isn’t here.” Barbara said. Jason has been by Y/N’s side almost every hour of the day. It would take Y/N forever to get him to leave so he could get some rest of his own. “You guys actually just missed him.” Y/N told them. “We did?” Dick said with one of his eyebrows raised. “I made the dumb mistake of telling him I was craving truffles from that fancy chocolate shop.” Y/N said with a sigh. “But that shop is across town.” Barbara said. “That’s what I told him but he didn’t care.” Y/N told her. “Damn, he’s crazy.” Barbra said as she shook her head. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Hey cut the man some slack. A guy does anything when he’s in love.” Dick said which made Y/N freeze. Barbara looked over at Dick with wide eyes. “What?” Dick asked in confusion. “You just told Y/N that Jason is in love with her.” Barbara told him which made his heart sink. “Oh, um, yeah my bad.” Dick said with a nervous sigh. “He’s in love with me?” Y/N asked Dick in a surprised tone in her voice. “Yeah he um told me a few months back.” Dick answered knowing he can’t take back what he said. “Oh my gosh.” Y/N said as she felt nothing but shock.

“Jason is so going to kill you.” Barbara told him. “Yeah yeah I fucking know!” Dick hissed as he ran one of his hands through his raven colored hair.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After Barbara and Dick left Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about what she just found out. Jason doesn’t just love her no, he’s in love with her. Y/N snapped out of her racing thoughts when Jason walked in holding a white paper bag.

“I’m back.” Jason said walking over to her bedside. “Your truffles.” Jason said handing her the white bag. “Oh um thanks.” Y/N said taking the paper bag.

Jason could immediately sense that something was wrong. “Everything alright?” Jason asked with concern in his voice. Y/N set the bag down on the table next to the bed.

“Are you in love with me?” Y/N asked taking Jason by surprise. “Who um told you that?” Jason asked her. “Dick might’ve let it slip out.” Y/N told him fiddling with her fingers. “That stupid fuck!” Jason snapped as he a ran a hand down his face.

Y/N grabbed one of his hands before he could get too worked up. “Jason.” Y/N said in a soft voice as she looked up at him. “Yes, I’m in love with you.” Jason confessed to her. Y/N lips turned up into a smile. She pulled him down and connected her lips with his’s. Jason immediately kissed back since he’s been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

They continued to kiss till they needed to pull away to catch their breath.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Y/N told him with a big smile on her face.

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yoyomomiko · 2 days ago

Note

Heyyy could you make a fluffy comfort oneshot of ticci toby x ignored reader? So like the reader tends to not be listened to and like, doesnt talk much because of it? If that makes sense! Just a super cute fic full of reassurance and physical affection/words of affirmation lol! Thankyou! 💗

꒰ ☆ ꒱ — “HEARD”

pairings: ticci toby x female reader

wc: 1.1k+

cw: angst (?), cringe, not proofread, also probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! the creepypasta mansion is real!! >:(

— (a/n): i actually haven't written anything in soooo long!!! also i'm extremely bad at writing comfort so i'm very sorry :(( -> m.list

You were used to silence.

Not the peaceful kind, the kind that wraps you in warmth and lets you breathe, no. Yours was the heavy, suffocating kind. The kind of silence that clung to you because no one ever truly listened.

It wasn't that you never spoke. You did. Sometimes. When it felt important.

But your words were often brushed aside, ignored, or spoken over. So, with time, you just sort of... Stopped trying.

It was easier that way. Easier not to try.

Because trying meant disappointment, and disappointment always hurt more than silence.

It wasn't hard to see why Toby had fallen for you.

You were both outsiders in your own ways, different kinds of overlooked. The moment he met you, something just clicked in his brain.

He didn't talk over you. Didn't brush you aside. Didn't make you feel like you had to fight to be heard.

And yet you still held back.

Even in the mansion, surrounded by people who were supposed to be your people, it was no different. Conversations just flowed around you, and if you tried to join in, it was like no one would even notice. Sometimes, someone would glance your way, but by the time you worked up the courage to speak, the moment would pass.

And tonight was no different.

You sat on the worn out couch, curled up in the corner, listening as the others talked. Ben was ranting, Jeff was being as loud as ever, and Toby was laughing along.

You saw a gap in the conversation, a tiny opening where you thought that maybe it was the time to speak up. All you had to do was wait for Ben to finish his sentence, and then you could finally start.

"I–"

"That reminds me of–"

Jeff quickly yelled out, not even acknowledging you. You couldn't even finish your first word, the subject just changed in an instant.

Your mouth snapped shut, the grip you had on your shirt tightening. Of course.

Your chest ached, but you swallowed it down. You had no reason to feel upset. This was normal. You should be used to it by now.

So you did what you always did. You quietly forced yourself to your feet, slipping out of the room unnoticed.

Or at least that's what you thought...

...

Toby had noticed.

It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop seeing it. The way your eyes would light up for half a second before fading again. The way you always shrank into the background, like you believed you didn't deserve to take up space.

And then there was tonight.

He saw the way your lips parted, just barely, before the conversation swallowed you whole. He saw the way your shoulders dropped, how you curled in on yourself before quietly leaving the room.

He wasn't the smartest guy, but he knew that wasn't normal.

So, without hesitation, he pushed himself off the couch and followed after you.

...

You were sitting outside, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dark trees surrounding the mansion. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you didn't really care. It was better out here, quieter.

A soft thud sounded beside you.

You turned your head just in time to see Toby plop down, his face twitching for a quick second. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there, hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. It was strange, Toby wasn't really the type to sit still.

"You didn't have to come out here." You glanced away, a frown slowly forming on your lips.

"But I wanted to." He replied, his gaze softening.

Silence.

You weren't sure what to say, so you didn't speak up. Just like you always did.

"Are you okay?" Toby spoke up after a while, his voice unusually soft.

You hesitated. You weren't used to being asked that. At least not in a way that felt... Real.

"Yeah." You lied, gently nodding your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Liar." He shot back.

You glared at him, but there was a grin plastered to his face, eyes filled with something warm that made your stomach twist.

"Come on." He nudged your shoulder. "I saw what happened."

"It's nothing, I'm used to it." You felt a bad taste in your mouth, like you were about to cry. Your chest tightened, and then came that same heavy and suffocating feeling you always had.

"That's not– That's not alright." He shifted so he was fully facing you, his knee brushing against yours. "You shouldn't have to– to be 'used to it'."

You shrugged, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. "It's not like it's on purpose. I just... I don't matter as much as everyone else–"

Toby's entire body went still. For a second, you wondered if you had said something wrong, which you did. Then, before you could react, he leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours.

"Don't–... Don't say that." He mumbled, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

Your breath hitched as your heart skipped a beat.

"You matter." Toby continued, tilting his head so his nose brushed against yours. "I hear you. Even when no one else does, I do."

Your eyes burned, but you blinked rapidly, forcing the feeling down. "Toby..."

"I mean it." He whispered, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I love hearing you talk. I love the way your voice sounds. I love the way your eyes light up when you get excited. And I hate that you don't feel like you can share it."

"It's hard..." A shaky breath left you as you prayed that the tears in your eyes weren't visible.

"I know." Toby whispered. "But I promise you never have to be quiet around me." He smiled, tilting his head playfully. "Actually, I insist you talk my ears off. Give me all the random thoughts in that pretty little head of yours."

A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop it, a small snort escaped you.

"There it is, there's that smile!" His smile widened as he gently kissed your forehead before pulling back to look at you again.

Your chest felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as invisible as you thought.

Toby pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth. He rested his chin on top of your head as he started swaying you gently. "I love you." He mumbled into your hair. "I'm gonna make sure you never feel alone again."

And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.

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