#this case it just feels too deliberate if you get what i mean

[mrcrawly]

Jayvik headcanons

hello jayvik nation im dumping these here bc im almost done with the second chapter of my fic and these have been stewing a while

Viktor

has the most beautiful curly calligraphy handwriting ever but it's so curly and fancy you genuinely can't read it

Ibuprofen allergy. source: my twisted mind

fidgeting with stuff all the time. paperclips, pencils, clips, rubber bands, the buttons on his vest

bonus to that one: he messes with his vest buttons so much that Jayce is constantly having to sew them back on when they come off

chronic nail biter

big sweet tooth

great cook but a shitty baker

"get even" kind of person; probably holds grudges from the second grade

doesn't cry very often but can be sensitive in the sense that he cares very much how his closest friends view him and internalizes their opinions

love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service

likes to be touched but not held (autism)

hates winter because it makes his joints hurt, summer is unbearably hot and he can't stand it, he has spring allergies; default fall enjoyer

animals really like him and strays tend to show up at the lab or follow him around

children like Viktor. Viktor doesn't like children back

kids will sometimes randomly talk to him and tell him things in public and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to them or ignore them so he just sits there like "mhm ☺️" while they talk until their parents apologize and walk off

probably has a pet reptile (a turtle or some kind of lizard methinks)

cold natured and wears seven hundred billion blankets to bed every night no matter the season

identifies as male in the sense that he was born a man and just never bothered to think much about it but doesn't fully grasp the concept or purpose of gender. could tell you what makes a man a man or what makes a woman a woman but doesn't understand why nor care

interested in jayce from the beginning but never felt as if he was in competition with Mel

sorry they can pry the JayMelVik love triangle out of my cold dead hands ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

not very affectionate because he doesn't know how to discuss his own feelings but very good at soothing other people

Jayce

dysgraphia (i think that's the term?) – not many issues with reading but not the best with writing

viktor is hyperlexic so it works out alright

AMAZING at drawing. like if he didn't have the passion for science he would be an artist. he draws out all their diagrams and blueprints and Viktor labels them

can cook pretty well but doesn't like to do it; if he stays at Viktor's place then Viktor always cooks for him

likes baking because he controls every single thing that goes in and it's very exact

both he and Viktor have chronic pain in their hands (carpal tunnel) from spending all their time taking notes and working with small delicate parts

he doesn't complain about his even when it bothers him because it feels silly knowing how bad Viktor's pain is every day 💔💔💔💔

10,000 step haircare routine but Viktor's looks better anyway

used to be prone to acne as a teen (if accutane existed in arcane he would have been an accutane kid)

(i was an accutane kid and im projecting)

shaved regularly pre-hexcore because his father had facial hair and he looks a lot like his dad anyway; he was always a little worried if he grew it out it would remind Ximena too much of his dad and make her sad

took entire days off of work and pushed deadlines back when Viktor got bad just so he could stay with him when Viktor was in too much pain to do practically anything

used to deliberately sleep in the lab because Viktor would stay late and he didn't want Viktor to be alone in case he passed out or something happened

love languages are physical touch, gift giving, and quality time

money doesn't exist to him when he's buying other people things. can't do secret santas at Christmas bc he constantly exceeds the budget

simultaneously one of those people who legitimately cannot accept gifts and feels bad when people give him things

was genuinely so in love with Mel; used to have dreams about marrying her and living somewhere quiet with her

most definitely forgave her for manipulating him on the council and understood her but it was just never the same

bottom. argue with the wall

OUGHHHH my shayla 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

guess my favorite character challenge level impossible (it's so unbelievably obvious)

[paramountie]

this meta is from several months ago but I am just seeing it now and I want to add to it bc I am always at all times thinking of the episode "odds." the main thing I want to add is that fraser IS learning how to bluff and he is doing this bc of the Specter of Victoria.

now victoria is never mentioned in this episode, but from the beginning she's deliberately invoked in an unspoken way. as we all know, the victoria episodes ended with fraser getting shot in the back, and this episode starts with fraser injuring his back, which calls back to that first injury, both for fraser and for the audience.

as mentioned above, fraser immediately notices that ladyshoes is flirting with him and he also realizes that she is trying to play him. however, one of the core things about Fraser's character is that he ALWAYS gives other people a chance. (Ray even mentions in this episode that "One of the good things about you [Fraser] is you take people at face value.") So even though ladyshoes is a criminal, and even though she has scammed people before and seems to be actively scamming him, fraser is still willing to take her at face value and try to help her. she is a person who says she is in trouble, and he is going to try to help her, until it is PROVEN to him that she is lying/manipulating.

however, fraser is also very aware of the fact that he's been scammed before. disastrously so.

now, writing about the victoria episodes would be a whole separate meta, but after victoria's secret 1 & 2 and letting go, victoria is never really mentioned again. which in another show would mean that she's been completely forgotten, but not this show, baby!!! she's haunting the narrative!!! so even though her name is never mentioned, certain things that fraser says and does show us that she's still on his mind. we also don't get a lot of direct info about how fraser FEELS about the whole situation, but I think this episode gives us some key moments that tell us his thoughts on Victoria, a few years later.

so first we have diefenbaker pining away for ladyshoes's dog, an emotional state fraser describes as "might be love. then again, it might just be worms." (a callback to fraser, in an invitation to romance, talking about when he met victoria and saying it's difficult to tell the difference between love and an inner ear imbalance.) so one of the questions fraser is struggling with this episode is how to tell the difference between love and not-love, which could be lust, manipulation, etc. this is something he's been struggling with since the first season.

we also see ray struggling with this very same issue ("what's the diff?") and the moment he notices fraser paying particular attention to Denny, he tells fraser "you can never know a woman like that." fraser doesn't agree or disagree. He's acknowledging her history of being a "card player" but he's also not going to judge her preemptively. However, ray loves and cares about fraser, and he doesn't want him to get hurt. So fraser is trying to give her a chance (while avoiding being tricked) and ray is trying to protect him. Both ray and fraser are immediately projecting their own issues onto lady shoes. ray, throughout the episode, tries to talk to fraser about this but he keeps coming at it from the wrong direction. he tells fraser "there's a lot of things that you can do with a woman like this, but trusting them is not one of them" to which fraser replies "who says I trust her?" ray and fraser are at cross purposes here. ray thinks fraser already trusts her too much and is going to get tricked, while fraser is doing his best to solve the case without going too far in either direction. he neither trusts ladyshoes ("who says I trust her?") nor distrusts her (Scarpa: why can't you trust me? Fraser: who says I don't?)

(Welsh: You can't do that, Fraser. You can't be bluffing when you're not bluffing.

however, fraser, throughout the episode, IS bluffing and not bluffing.)

now there have been plenty of episodes where fraser can easily balance his trust/distrust of the person of the week, and it doesn't particularly disturb him. but he IS disturbed this episode. he's off-balance. denny kisses him, and the next scene is him throwing water on his face. the moment ray comes into the bathroom they have this conversation:

FRASER: You know, my father used to say that duty was a passion. Maybe the only one that really counted. KOWALSKI: You have no duty here, Fraser. All you got is risk. You know, what if you start to sweat and Farah twigs to the scam? I mean, anything could go down. FRASER: Well, I'm aware there are risks. KOWALSKI: You know, Fraser, ah — when I was in college, I used to go to the track and play the horses. One day I was down there and I met this, ah, chick from Albany. She had a good line. And I bought it — hook, line, sinker — you know, before she left, she'd taken everything. FRASER: You think I'm confusing duty with passion?

ray thinks fraser is trying to talk to him about trusting the wrong people and fraser is trying to talk to ray about his struggle with duty and passion. this, again, is a callback to victoria. his central struggle with victoria was the difference between duty and love. when he first met victoria, his duty was to bring her in, but his passion/love wanted to let her go. this is later complicated by learning more about victoria, and realizing that she was nowhere near as innocent as she made herself out to be. so fraser's struggle becomes how to choose between duty and love and ALSO how to trust people, as well as his own perceptions of people. usually, he's good at picking up lies and manipulation, but victoria clouded his vision. so he feels guilty for NOT letting her go, while at the same time, he wonders if he should have. this conversation reveals that all these questions are still on his mind and fraser is trying to figure out how to navigate helping someone who may be actively manipulating him.

(it's also important to note that fraser DOES try to talk to ray about this, but ray interrupts him, goes off in the wrong direction. ray wants fraser to know he's being scammed, but fraser knows this, or at least is open to the possibility. his question is how does he still do the right thing while being actively manipulated.)

so throughout the episode, fraser is letting lady shoes play her game. she flirts with him, she gives him a sob story, she lies and manipulates. she kisses him and fraser lets her. in essence, she plays a similar game to victoria. victoria flirted, victoria told him she'd been forced into her crimes by an abusive boyfriend, victoria took advantage of fraser's loneliness and lack of romantic experience.

FRASER: (talking about Victoria) It's easier to think you're in love than it is to accept that you're alone. FRASER: Are you protecting someone? SCARPA: Just myself and my dog. FRASER: Sounds very lonely. SCARPA: You tell me. FRASER: Are you suggesting our situations are similar? SCARPA: Both outsiders, one step ahead of everybody else. Yeah, I think so.

only fraser is not inexperienced now. he's been in love, he's been betrayed. denny plays her game, but he still finds out the truth. he picks up on her mention of her brother and he looks into it. he asks her all the right questions. in the end, he is able to help her AND catch her. he arrests the person who killed her brother, but he also arrests her.

he lets denny play her game to test himself. has he learned his lesson? is he trusting the right people? Is he balancing duty and passion? can he feel his feelings, can he be in love, without completely abandoning his duty to help people?

(throughout this whole episode, of course, victoria/denny are contrasted with the person fraser CAN trust, Ray. ray and fraser are not on the same page during this episode, but they keep trying to be. ray keeps checking with fraser and fraser keeps trying to explain himself to ray. fraser gets more information about denny's past and the murder of her brother, but it's not until a moment before he's going to step into the poker game and he's interrupted before he can explain everything to ray. until that point, his theory about denny and her brother's death is just a theory. the moment he gets proof, he signals to ray what's going on, and ray, always reliable, picks up on it immediately.)

so denny does her best to manipulate fraser, in an attempt to avenge her brother's death, but fraser figures it out. at the last second, denny tries to escape and they have the following conversation:

FRASER: You play a dangerous game. SCARPA: Farah killed my brother. FRASER: So you ordered Joey to kill Farah. SCARPA: Just trying to even out the game. FRASER: Using me in the process. SCARPA: You could have let me go. FRASER: Who says I won't let you go now?

the words "you could have let me go" directly echo victoria. he loved her, but he refused to let her go and she went to prison, something he originally can't forgive himself for.

FRASER: She asked me to let her go. You see, no one knew that I had found her, the police didn't even know her name — I could just let her go, and she could walk away that night. BOB FRASER: You did the right thing. You did your duty. That's all you could have done. FRASER: She's the only woman I ever loved, and I put her in prison. Duty is a poor excuse.

fraser, during and directly after the victoria episodes, thinks that he should have let victoria go. but in this moment with denny, we see him reckoning with the fact that he was USED. denny says "you could have let me go" and for a moment the camera lingers on fraser's face, reacting to her words. maybe denny was right for wanting vengeance for her brother and maybe victoria was manipulated into the bank robbery. but both of them used fraser in the process, took advantage of him, something that he is realizing now was not right. this conversation shows fraser's shift from blaming himself to forgiving himself, to allowing himself to get angry for what was done to him.

(this conversation is also followed by fraser pretending to drop denny off the ledge. he's mad. she tried to use him and it didn't work but it could have. he gave her many chances to be honest with him, and if she'd been honest he could have helped her, but instead she decided to manipulate him. just like victoria.)

so what's the answer to the questions he's been asking? how does he decide between duty and passion? how does he know who to trust? how does he know who to love? he trusts the people who are honest with him, who don't use him, who don't force him to be something he's not. (contrast denny/victoria with rayk in "asylum" who has no idea if he's killed a man or not but is honest with fraser every step of the way.) he can love and trust the people who don't make him choose between love and duty, or at the very least, don't make it so damn hard.

(quotes from here and here)

Timestamp Roulette: Odds

Minutes 2, 14, 16, 19, 24, 29, and 41.

[writtenbysprout]

The Heated Confession | Sam Winchester x reader

Word count: 4.1k+

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

tags: pining, yearning, tooth rotting fluff, angst

Sequal to The Quiet Ache

The four of you—Sam, Dean, Castiel and you—are gathered around a worn motel table, pouring over case notes and trying to piece together the threads of the last hunt. The air is thick with concentration, the only sounds are the rustle of papers and the faint hum of the flickering motel light above.

You’re sitting next to Castiel, the angel frowning at a pile of documents as he tries to decipher the complexities of human handwriting. He’s been staring at the same page for ten minutes, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Cas,” you say gently, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Do you need some help?”

He looks at you, his expression both puzzled and earnest. “I understand the words individually, but their meaning together is... elusive.”

You smile softly, taking the paper from his hands. “It’s just a witness statement,�� you explain, leaning closer to show him the details. “This part here means they saw something in the woods. And this bit—it’s just their guess about what it was.”

Castiel listens intently, his head tilted slightly as he absorbs your explanation. When he nods, it’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s committing every word you say to memory.

“You’re really good at this,” he says after a moment, his voice tinged with something close to admiration. “At making things understandable.”

You laugh lightly, brushing off the compliment. “It’s just explaining, Cas. You’ll get the hang of it.”

But Sam, sitting across the table, feels his chest tighten as he watches the interaction.

It’s not the first time he’s seen you take the time to help Castiel navigate the complexities of being human. Whether it’s showing him how to work a coffee maker, explaining why humans say “bless you” after sneezing, or patiently describing the rules of Monopoly during a rare downtime, you always approach him with the same warmth and patience.

Sam remembers the way you guided Castiel through his first attempt at cooking, laughing softly as the angel held an egg like it might explode. The way you reassured him when he accidentally burned the toast, telling him it was no big deal and that everyone starts somewhere.

You treat Castiel not as someone who’s different or apart, but as someone who belongs. And it’s not just with Castiel. You have this quiet way of making everyone around you feel seen and valued.

As you lean closer to Castiel now, pointing something out on the paper in front of him, Sam can’t help but marvel at the easy kindness you extend to everyone in your life.

It’s in the way you explain things to Castiel without a trace of condescension, as though you genuinely enjoy helping him understand the nuances of human behavior. It’s in the way you treat Dean with a blend of camaraderie and care, knowing when to push him and when to let him be.

And it’s in the way you treat Sam—with a softness that feels almost like a salve to the rough edges of his life.

How do you do it? Sam wonders, his gaze lingering on you. How do you make everyone feel like they matter?

He notices the little things—the way your voice softens when you’re speaking to Castiel, the way you smile even when you think no one is looking, the way you never seem to tire of offering your patience and understanding.

It’s not just admirable; it’s breathtaking.

Sam doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you glance up and catch his eye.

“What’s up?” you ask, your tone light and curious.

He quickly shakes his head, his face flushing slightly as he pretends to refocus on the paper in front of him. “Nothing,” he says, his voice a little too quick, a little too quiet. “Just… watching you explain things to Cas. You’re good at it.”

You smile at him, a faint blush dusting your cheeks at the compliment. “Well, someone has to make sure he doesn’t think Monopoly is a form of warfare.”

Sam chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. But inside, his thoughts spiral.

You don’t even know, he thinks. You don’t know how much better you make everything. How much better you make me.

As you turn back to Castiel, picking up where you left off, Sam leans back in his chair, his gaze still lingering on you. He doesn’t say anything more, but in the quiet moments that follow, one thought echoes in his mind.

If there’s any good left in this world, it’s sitting right here at this table.

But it’s the little things you do that undo him, the quiet acts of care that feel so natural to you and yet so monumental to Sam. He knows you’re not trying to be extraordinary, but to him, you are.

He notices everything.

The way you leave a cup of coffee at his elbow during the late nights spent researching. You never make a fuss about it, never draw attention to yourself. You just set the steaming mug down with a quiet precision, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and return to your seat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. It tells him you see him, that you’re thinking of him even when he’s too caught up in his own mind to notice his own needs.

The way your voice changes when you talk to him. You’re still you—direct, steady, with a clarity that cuts through the chaos of their world—but there’s a softness, a warmth that’s reserved just for him. It’s in the way you ask if he’s eaten, the way you tease him when his head gets too stuck in the books, the way you draw him out of himself when the weight of everything becomes too much.

And then there’s the way you look at him.

It’s not pity—God, he hates pity—but something deeper, something gentler. Your eyes hold an understanding that feels rare and precious, an acceptance that makes him feel seen in a way that both comforts and terrifies him. It’s as though you’ve peered into the darkest corners of him, the parts he hides from everyone, even himself, and decided they’re worth staying for.

Sam doesn’t just notice the moments—you’ve etched them into his mind.

He remembers the night after a hunt that had gone sideways, leaving everyone bruised and exhausted. He’d been sitting at the war room table, staring blankly at the maps spread out before him, unable to shake the weight of the lives they couldn’t save. The bunker had been quiet, and he’d thought he was alone until he heard your footsteps.

You’d walked in, carrying two mugs of tea. “Coffee this late’ll wreck you,” you’d said simply, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across the table.

He hadn’t said much—what could he say? But he remembers the way the warmth of the tea seeped into his hands as he wrapped them around the mug, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. You hadn’t pushed him to talk, hadn’t tried to fix anything. You’d just been there, your presence anchoring him, your silence offering a solace words couldn’t provide.

Or the time you’d patched him up after a rough hunt. The gash on his arm had been deep, the sting of the antiseptic biting into his skin, but your hands had been steady, your focus sharp. You’d worked with a quiet efficiency, your brow furrowed in concentration, and for a while, he’d let himself just watch you, marveling at the way you carried yourself with such quiet strength.

When he’d flinched at the sting, your touch softened immediately. You’d glanced up at him, your eyes filled with something that looked like apology.

“It’s okay,” you’d murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

And he’d believed you—not because of the words, but because of the way you’d said them, the quiet certainty in your tone that made him feel, even just for a moment, that he really was okay.

When you’d finished wrapping his arm, your fingers had lingered on his skin, just for a second longer than necessary. And in that second, Sam had felt the air between you shift, heavy with something unspoken. He remembers wishing you wouldn’t pull away, wishing he could reach out and hold onto that moment, onto you.

These memories stay with him, surfacing in the quiet hours when he’s alone. They aren’t loud or dramatic, but they cut deeper than any grand gesture ever could.

Because it’s not just the way you care for him—it’s the way you do it without expecting anything in return. The way you make him feel seen, steady, and whole in a life that so often feels like it’s falling apart.

Sam doesn’t know what to do with these feelings, doesn’t know how to tell you what you mean to him without risking everything. But the ache in his chest is growing, spreading, impossible to ignore.

And as he sits across the room now, watching you curled up in that oversized chair, your face serene, he can’t help but think: You deserve so much more than this life.

Sam doesn’t mean to hover. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But lately, it feels like you’ve become a magnet, and he’s powerless to do anything but orbit around you.

If you’re in the library, he finds reasons to join you. His laptop is always conveniently dead, his notes mysteriously missing, or he suddenly remembers a book he needs to check. He’ll settle across from you, opening a lore tome or pretending to skim a case file, but his eyes inevitably wander. He watches the way your brow furrows when you’re deep in thought, the way your lips twitch into a small smile when you find something interesting.

And when you glance up and catch him looking, his heart skips a beat.

“Need something, Sam?” you ask, teasing but not unkind.

He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “Just… wondering if you found anything.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”

In the kitchen, it’s the same story. You’ll be making tea or rummaging through the fridge, and suddenly, Sam decides he needs a snack. It’s not subtle—Dean’s smirk from across the room tells him as much—but Sam doesn’t care.

You greet him with a warm smile, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter to him before he even asks. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment as he takes the mug. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, one he has to mask with a long sip of coffee.

You start talking about something casual—the weather, a new book you’re reading—and Sam drinks it in, grateful for the excuse to just be near you.

One evening, he walks into the living room to find you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a movie playing softly on the TV. You look up when he enters, your face lighting up with a smile that’s brighter than it has any right to be.

“Hey,” you say, shifting to make room for him.

Sam hesitates, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” you say, patting the cushion beside you.

He sits down, careful to keep a bit of space between you at first. The movie is something light, a romantic comedy that Dean would have mercilessly mocked, but Sam doesn’t care. He’s too focused on the warmth radiating from you, the way your laughter fills the room.

“You can change it if you want,” you offer, gesturing toward the remote.

“No, this is fine,” he says quickly.

Minutes pass, the movie fading into the background as Sam’s attention drifts entirely to you. You shift, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder.

Sam freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. He glances down at you, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed, your breathing steady, and for a moment, he can’t believe this is real.

He wants to move, to wrap his arm around you, to hold you closer, but he’s terrified of waking you. So he sits there, perfectly still, letting the weight of your head anchor him in a way nothing else ever has.

You fall asleep like that, your body relaxed against his. Sam stays awake, his mind racing but his body still, savoring the moment. The blanket you’ve draped over yourself spills onto him, and he tugs it up a little, covering you more fully.

The movie ends, the credits rolling silently, but Sam doesn’t dare reach for the remote. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that’s settled over the room.

In the quiet, he lets himself imagine—what it would be like if moments like this weren’t rare, if they weren’t accidents. What it would be like if he could hold you like this every night, no excuses, no hesitations.

But for now, he just sits there, his heart full and aching all at once, and lets the hours pass with you by his side.

It starts small—a faint tightening in his chest, a flicker of heat low in his stomach. Sam tells himself it’s nothing, just the remnants of a long day and a longer week. But as he watches, that faint flicker builds, burning into something sharper, something heavier.

You’re standing by the counter of the diner, waiting for the check while the three of you gear up to leave. The guy behind the register—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—has been chatting with you for a few minutes now. It’s harmless. He’s just being friendly, and you, being you, respond with a warm smile and a polite laugh.

Sam knows that smile. He’s seen it a hundred times. It’s the one you give to strangers who need a bit of kindness, the one that makes people feel at ease. It shouldn’t bother him. You’re not flirting, not leading the guy on in the slightest. You’re just… you.

And yet, it twists something inside him.

Sam knows it’s irrational. He knows he has no right to feel this way. You’re not his—hell, he hasn’t even worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. And even if you were, this? This isn’t anything.

But knowing doesn’t make it easier.

He tries to focus on something else—the way the warm light of the diner reflects off the checkered tiles, the smell of burgers and coffee that hangs in the air—but his eyes keep drifting back to you. To the way your shoulders relax as you chat, to the way your laugh rings out, soft but genuine.

To the way the guy leans just a little closer, like he’s trying to soak in as much of you as he can.

Sam’s fists clench under the table, his nails digging into his palms. He hates the way it makes him feel, this jealousy curling tight in his chest. It’s not you—it’s him, and he knows it.

You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re just being polite, kind, the way you always are. But Sam can’t help it, can’t stop the possessive streak that flares despite every logical argument he throws at it.

Dean notices, of course. He always notices.

“You good, man?” Dean asks, his voice low as he leans back in the booth. His eyes flick toward you, still at the counter, before landing on Sam with a knowing look.

“I’m fine,” Sam says quickly, too quickly.

Dean raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. “Right. You keep telling yourself that.”

Sam grits his teeth, his gaze dropping to the table. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the mess of feelings swirling inside him. Because the truth is, this isn’t the first time he’s felt it—the ache of wanting something he doesn’t know how to reach, the sting of watching someone else notice what he’s known all along.

When you finally return to the table, smiling as you hand over the receipt, Sam forces himself to relax. He unclenches his fists, lets out a slow breath, and meets your eyes with what he hopes is a neutral expression.

“Everything okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready to go?”

You nod, grabbing your coat as Dean tosses a few bills onto the table for a tip.

As the three of you step out into the cool night air, Sam walks beside you, keeping his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He’s quiet, his mind racing with thoughts he can’t quite pin down.

It’s not your fault. You don’t even know.

But that doesn’t make the jealousy any easier to bear.

Because the truth is, Sam wants more than he has any right to. He wants to be the one who makes you laugh like that, who gets to lean close and soak in your warmth. And as much as he hates himself for it, he wants everyone else to see that you’re his—even though he knows you’re not.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

The thought is enough to make his chest tighten, but he keeps walking, the sound of your voice pulling him out of his spiral as you talk about something mundane and comforting.

Sam’s grip on his machete tightens as the group approaches the abandoned house. The air is heavy, the kind of oppressive stillness that always precedes a fight. Dean is leading the way, his shotgun raised, while you follow just behind, your steps quiet but sure.

Sam should be focusing on the hunt—on the creak of the floorboards, the faint whispers of movement coming from deeper inside—but he can’t. His eyes keep darting to you, his chest tightening every time you take a step further into danger.

“Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual.

You glance back at him, raising an eyebrow but nodding. “I’m fine, Sam.”

Fine. The word does nothing to ease the knot in his stomach.

It happens fast. Too fast.

The wendigo bursts through a wall, a blur of claws and teeth, and the room erupts into chaos. Dean fires a shot, the salt rounds forcing the creature to stumble, but it’s not enough to stop it. You lunge toward it with your knife, and Sam’s heart nearly stops.

“Wait!” he yells, his voice sharp.

You hesitate for just a second, long enough for the wendigo to change direction. It barrels toward you, and before Sam can think, he’s moving. He throws himself between you and the creature, his machete swinging in a wide arc.

The blade connects, but it’s not a clean hit. The wendigo shrieks, clawing at Sam’s arm as it retreats into the shadows. Blood drips down his sleeve, hot and sticky, but he barely notices.

“Sam!” Your voice is frantic as you grab his arm, trying to check the wound.

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off as his eyes dart around the room. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You’re bleeding!”

Dean shouts from across the room, drawing their attention back to the hunt. “Focus, you two! It’s still here!”

Sam forces himself to breathe, to focus, but his hands shake as he readjusts his grip on the machete.

The hunt ends in a blur. Dean gets the kill, the wendigo collapsing in a heap of ash and bone, and the three of you stumble out of the house, battered but alive.

Back at the Impala, Dean tosses his shotgun into the trunk with a muttered curse. “What the hell was that, Sam? You almost got yourself killed!”

Sam doesn’t answer, his eyes fixed on you as you press a cloth against his arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he says, his voice softer than before.

You glare at him. “You’re not fine, Sam. That thing could’ve killed you.”

“And it could’ve killed you!” he snaps, the words bursting out before he can stop them.

The silence that follows is heavy. Dean glances between the two of you, his expression unreadable, before muttering something about “patching up later” and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Later, inside the bunker, you refuse to let him brush it off. You pull him into the kitchen, forcing him to sit while you clean and bandage his arm.

“What was that back there?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Sam hesitates, his jaw tightening. “I just… I couldn’t let you—”

“Get hurt?” you interrupt, finishing his sentence for him.

He nods, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, your hands working methodically to wrap the bandage around his arm. When you finally speak, your voice is softer. “Sam, I know you worry. But you can’t let it get in the way like that. We have to trust each other out there.”

“I do trust you,” he says quickly. “It’s me I don’t trust. Not when it comes to keeping you safe.”

You meet his eyes, your expression gentle but unyielding. “We keep each other safe. That’s how this works.”

Sam swallows hard, the weight of your words settling over him. He knows you’re right. But as he looks at you, at the quiet strength in your eyes, he also knows that his feelings for you are becoming harder to control.

For now, though, he nods, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

But deep down, he knows it’s not that simple.

Another hunt had gone wrong—terribly, inexplicably wrong.

You’re sitting at the war room table back in the bunker, a hastily wrapped bandage on your arm, your face pale and drawn. Sam is pacing, his long strides eating up the space between the table and the far wall, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” His voice is sharp, louder than you’ve ever heard it.

You glare at him, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I saved your ass, Sam! Or did you miss the part where that thing was about to rip your head off?”

“I didn’t need you to throw yourself into danger like that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap, standing up despite the sharp pain in your arm. “Did you want me to just stand there and watch you get torn apart?”

“That’s not the point!” Sam’s voice cracks, his frustration turning into something raw.

“Then what is the point, Sam?” you shout, stepping closer to him. “Because all I see is you treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t handle myself!”

“You don’t get it,” he growls, his eyes blazing as he finally stops pacing. “It’s not about whether you can handle yourself! It’s about the fact that I can’t handle losing you!”

The words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of you. Your breath catches, your anger faltering as his admission sinks in.

“Sam…” you start, but he cuts you off, his voice softer now but no less intense.

“You don’t understand,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Every time we’re out there, I can’t stop thinking about what could happen to you. Every scratch, every close call—it eats me alive. And tonight? Seeing you get hurt? I—” He stops, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to find the words. “I can’t do it anymore.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding. “Sam, I—”

But before you can finish, he closes the distance between you in two long strides, his hands cupping your face as his lips crash into yours. It’s desperate, unrestrained, years of pent-up emotion spilling over all at once.

For a moment, you freeze, too stunned to react. But then you’re kissing him back, your fingers tangling in his shirt as you pull him closer. It’s messy, overwhelming, and everything you’ve both been holding back.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you both back to reality.

You break apart, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you turn to see Dean and Castiel standing in the doorway. Dean’s eyebrows are raised so high they practically disappear into his hairline, while Cas looks… well, Cas-like, but with a hint of curiosity.

“Uh… are we interrupting something?” Dean asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best effort to sound serious.

Sam takes a step back, his face flushed as he scrambles to say something. “I, uh—this isn’t—”

“Sure doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” Dean quips, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

Cas tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “I believe this is what humans call ‘acting on repressed emotions.’”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “Well, I’d say it’s about damn time.”

[enjolrasofficial]

ngl i hate the "denny needs a father figure" rhetoric . it highkey implies that the parents he has are not enough and i'm so not here for it. this might be controversial but that and chim accepting his father in his life as well as buck rebuilding a relationship with his parents are all storylines i don't understand and don't like mostly bc they all give me the feeling that they'll blow up in their faces bc that's what abusive family relationships do. i really hope they're going somewhere with this whole "blood is thicker than water" thing bc i came here for the found family trope and i wanna see more of that. what i don't wanna see buck or chim or denny get hurt bc people believe they "need their rEaL" families in their lives

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"

[frigidlyauthorial]

fascinating okay so i'm watching season 17 of dancing with the stars and it's like. you can literally tell that derek was taking a very deliberate gamble between relying on points from the judges vs doing what would be most impressive for the audience.

In Week 3 for Most Memorable Year, Amber and Derek danced a foxtrot. It was an absolutely gorgeous dance, because with those two there is no way it could not be, but the routine departed from foxtrot standards (namely, the amount of time spent in hold).

The scores they got were extremely across the board (9, 7, 10), but I'm so curious about how derek offhandedly mentioned that he'd prepared Amber for Len to rip into them for the choreography. Both of them seemed shocked that Len went so far as to give it a 7 (their lowest score on the show thus far), but it is very telling that derek knew that his choreo was pushing the envelope far beyond what would be allowed, and decided to go down that path anyway because he knew that it would be shortsighted to focus on appeasing one judge when he could instead be using that dance as a way to build up his partner in the eyes of the audience.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[crheativity]

Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?

SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.

After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.

Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.

As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.

(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)

Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.

He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.

(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)

Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.

At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.

Just like you, he hopes.

Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.

If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.

If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?

Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.

Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.

Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.

Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.

He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. (These vignettes appear to be following Trey’s Nightmare Suit vignettes, as those open with Sebek and Trey seeing Sally jump out of a window with food with Jack. Sebek points out to Trey that Sally wants to hand deliver that food and says he believes there is some other reason than just being nice to Jack.)

They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invites him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally, thinking she and her now-husband are incompatible? If she didn’t try pursuing her feelings at all? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and calls such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--and to be fair, he does for a large part of the main story. But when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7 and likely alludes to the character development he goes through during + following book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. He wouldn’t spoil Sebek by giving him sweets (which, by the way, Baur himself dislikes). But Baur DOES do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. You can hear it in the hurt of Sebek’s voice when dream!Baur reacts to him coldly. That isn’t the grandfather he is used to. Though it’s said that Baur doesn’t exactly welcome his grandchildren with open arms, he definitely loves them and cares for them in his own way. If it was anything less than love Baur felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[justaladyiguess]

Jax 001 Theory AKA An almost definitely wrong TADC theory

I thought it was weird that they gave specific attention to Jax seeing the license plate. Like, there's a whole shot dedicated it. And it doesn't serve much of a purpose. I guess it lets us know that this is Jax's car? But it's in the episode. A full shot dedicated to seeing him notice it. A full shot dedicated to the plate itself.

And there's a shot afterwards of him reacting to it. Not even a particularly comedic shot. It feels more in line with his reaction to Kaufmo's funeral in episode 2.

True, it could be him reacting to the awful adventure he just had, but we just had a scene where his smile turned into a scowl. And, you know, pretty much the rest of the episode. Or it could be him reacting to the absurdity of the license plate, but considering the day to day adventures Caine creates, this seems a bit tame to get any reaction from him.

So that gets me wondering, does the license plate have any significance? The number at the top right could be some sort of reference. But it's the 001 that intrigued me. It's typically a number given to the first of something. Maybe even the first person to come to the circus?

Instantly the idea sounded ridiculous (because it is, this theory is almost definitely wrong). I mean, Jax himself said that Kinger had been here the longest. But take a look back at what he actually said.

"Supposedly been here the longest"

At first glance, this seems to mean that Jax can't be sure who's been here the longest. Which makes sense when you consider Kinger's memory issues and all the circus members who have abstracted. And, let's be real, this is probably what the line means. But if you'll let me be delusional for a second, there's another way to read this line.

What if Jax means that everyone assumes Kinger had been there the longest? But he knows it's not true because he's been there the longest?

For most characters, it wouldn't make sense for them to be purposefully vague with their wording. But this is Jax. It's completely in character for him to keep things from the other circus members for no reason. In the first episode alone he kept his supply of keys and Kaufmo's abstraction a secret. Jax will lie about pretty much everything, and he's pretty good at it too.

Further delusions can also be found in episode one. When Pomni tries take her headset off, Jax says this.

Could it be that Jax knows the circus members all tried to take off their headsets because he was there when they did it? Again, probably not. This is the weakest piece of evidence I have, but I figured I'd include it anyway.

And that would explain a fair bit of his behavior. Jax seems more comfortable in the circus than any of them. He has access to keys. He's only momentarily surprised by Kaufmo abstracting. He's incredibly jaded. He seems bored with the adventures, deliberately causing chaos to get them off track (his hijinks on the syrup truck, sucking up the ghost in the mansion, and trying to dunk Ragatha in the oil). It almost reads like a gamer who's played the game a thousand times and is trying anything to make it interesting.

Again, I'm fully aware that this probably isn't the case. I'd say there's a 0.01% chance that this will be confirmed in any capacity whatsoever. It will almost definitely be disproved. But until then, I thought this would be a fun idea. Maybe it'd be a good fic.

But hey, that's just a theory...

A DIGITAL CIRCUS THEORY!

and cut.

[chalkscene]

tears of themis ⇢ YOU DECIDE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

you’re shifting restlessly on the couch when you catch your LUKE alarm keychain—handmade by luke himself—peeking from behind the armrest, “luke says he’s sorry.” you can’t help but smile at the sound of luke faking a small voice and whatever rage that filled you from your argument hours ago has now dissipated, endeared by the sweet gesture. “you’re gonna set off that alarm by accident,” you quip, the lightness in your tone encouraging luke to come into view. “you’re not mad anymore?” he asks, cautious yet hopeful. all his years of training and building a hard exterior to be a detective have nothing on you because in the warmth behind his hazel eyes that only you can bring out, you still find the boy you grew up with. the boy you’ve always loved. “i can’t stay mad at you,” you admit, on the brink of tears, “luke, i’m really sorry…” luke is quick to bring you in his arms, declining your apology because that’s what he does—he’ll blame everything before he’ll blame you. you’re unable to hold back a sob, prompting him to hold you tighter before he whispers in your ear, “let’s not do this again, okay?”

ARTEM is going over a recent case when he realizes it’s almost midnight. he’s usually one to pull an all-nighter but gnawing at the back of his mind is the argument he had with you today—you two haven’t spoken to each other since. after having decided to put off his work until tomorrow, he walks out of his home office to join you in bed but he finds you in the living room instead, your pillows and blanket already set up on the sofa. he can tell you’re aware of his presence from the way you’re deliberately not looking in his direction. still, he attempts to catch your attention with a soft call of your name. when you don’t reply, he carefully crosses the distance between the two of you. “we can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he pleads. artem’s convinced his words have fallen on deaf ears until you finally speak, “i just don’t want to say the wrong thing again.” artem understands, thinking back to what started as a simple disagreement escalating into something it shouldn’t have and before you could stop it, you were both raising your voices at each other, saying things you didn’t mean. “i’m sorry about everything i said,” your voice sounds weak as it quivers and artem immediately wraps you in his embrace. “me too,” he tells you, “we can talk tomorrow. just come to bed.” when you nod into his chest, he presses a reassuring kiss at top of your head as he promises, “we’re alright.”

as MARIUS waits for you in bed, anxiety slowly eats away at him, the argument he had with you hours ago replaying in his mind. you should’ve walked in by now, he thinks, so he waits a few more minutes before getting on his feet and makes his way downstairs. he’s rehearsing his apology, muttering to himself to test the words on his tongue but it all flies out the window when he finds you asleep on the sofa. ridden with guilt, he decides to save his sorry’s for tomorrow when you’re both lucid for a proper conversation. marius is careful not to wake you up—gently slipping an arm beneath your head and looping the other under your knees to carry you to the bedroom. he’s tucking you in bed when you begin to stir awake. “sorry,” you hear him whisper, “didn’t mean to wake you up.” “what time is it?” you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “it’s late. go back to sleep.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead to lull you to your slumber before he shifts you on your side, his chest against your back as he slides an arm across your torso. “sweet dreams,” he mutters and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. “marius?” “hm?” “i’m sorry about earlier…” “that’s my line, miss,” he quips, albeit sincerely. he gives your body a gentle squeeze as he pulls you flush against him. “i’m sorry, too,” he replies, “i never want you to go to sleep upset.”

you’re getting settled on the couch when you hear VYN clear his throat as he carefully places a fresh cup of tea on the table in front of you. “chamomile tea,” he states, “it will help you sleep better.” there’s the slightest caution in his voice but it’s enough to tell you what the tea is for—peace offering after your heated disagreement earlier. “thank you,” you mumble, gradually feeling the guilt bubbling in your chest, “you’re using reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in your tone but vyn’s eyes still widen at the accusation. “n-no,” he stutters and a giggle involuntarily escapes you, to vyn’s surprise. “i’m joking.” when you notice his body language go lax, you slowly reach for his hand. “and i’m sorry for the things i said to you,” you tell him, “i didn’t mean it.” “i know.” a soft smile curls on his lips as he interlocks your fingers together, “so am i.” you stay quiet for a moment, basking in his touch that you missed terribly before he speaks again. “if you still wish to be alone tonight, i don’t mind staying here.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, aware of the fact that this is just him assessing your boundaries—vyn does mind and you know that—so you shoot him a dubious look instead to which he responds with a sheepish smile. “i suppose you’ve changed your mind?” you actually give him an eye roll this time. “you know you had me at chamomile.”

[sunflowerreid]

Request for a Spencer smut where y/n gets handy under the table while out for drinks with the team after getting back from a case

“Please not now”

Timing - S.R

Warnings: Edging, sub!Spencer, Handjob, Public sex (Kind of)

There are many things you could never get tired of, the deliciously jammy doughnuts from the cafe by yours and Spencer’s apartment, the sounds of the birds first thing in the morning as the sunlight creeps through the shades, the smile on Spencer’s face as he rambles on about something he’s passionate about. But the one thing you know you love the most is the way Spencer squirms. Whether it’s down to your hands touching him in a particularly sensitive spot or when you maintain eye contact across the room while licking a lollipop in a completely innocent manner. You absolutely loved making him squirm. Having been denied this simple pleasure for 4 whole days due to sleeping in different rooms while on a case and having to maintain professional you were dying to get your hands on him.

However, there was one problem, well actually there were six problems, all sat around the table separating you both. After solving a challenging case you’d all agreed to celebrate at your normal bar. You absolutely adore your team with all of your heart but with Spencer sat across from you giggling at a joke Garcia had mentioned, the temptation was beginning to override your common senses. No one could blame you, you had your gorgeous man in front of you causing your thighs to press together, underwear ruined once again. You had to do something about it, the throbbing was becoming too much. Suddenly remembering what had happened earlier that day, the way Spencer had deliberately brushed up against you, pressing his crotch subtly against yours while grinning cheekily. That was enough cause for you to grin to yourself, a wicked idea coming to mind.

You smirked at him from across the table, making eye contact with him as you lifted up your leg, heel slowly brushing up his leg. His eyes widened slightly catching on to your plan as your heel got higher and higher teasingly brushing up his thigh towards his crotch, you knew that look ‘Please not now’. He stiffened up slightly, eyes glossing over as his cheeks began to flush. He squeaked quietly, jumping in his seat as your heel made contact with his growing erection. “God Reid are you drunk already” Garcia giggled next to him. “Maybe had one too many” he answered shyly. “Awww pretty boy I always knew you were a light weight” Morgan teased from across the table next to him. “Leave my boy alone, he’s perfect just as he is” you nudged Morgan, knowing the praise would get Spencer worked up. You could feel him throbbing through his trousers, a noticeable stain appearing through the fabric by the leaking tip of him. He was twitching in his seat, desperate for more friction as you continued your torturously slow pace. Everyone was too busy having conversations amongst themselves to notice what was going on, no matter how obvious Spencer was making it. He couldn’t sit still, as a moment of weakness overcame him, placing his hand on your heel to thrust up against you. You knew the look on his face, eyes rolling back slightly into his head, mouth opened slightly, cheeks flushed, eyebrows rising. He was close, a few more thrusts and he would cum in his boxers. You allowed him a few more jumpy thrusts before removing your heel from him. He groaned quietly, staring at you like you’d just ripped his favourite book apart from across the table while you maintained a conversation with Emily. You knew it was mean, cruel even. But he had to be punished for what he’d done before, he knew better.

“Right guys I’ve got to bounce” Morgan announced, blissfully unaware of an edged Spencer a few feet away. “Yeah we need to go to” you agreed, giving Spencer an out as relief washed over his face “Yeah bye guys see you soon” he whispered following you out of the bar door towards your car since you’d only had one drink, planning on driving home afterwards to save you walking back. “God Y/n so horny please, need you so bad” he whimpered approaching you from behind as you reached the car. You turned around running your hands through his curls as your lips met. “In the car baby” you ordered as he immediately rushed over to the passenger seat. He was on you as soon as you got in your side, hands desperately grabbing onto anything he could reach, “Please fuck please Y/n so hard need to cum so bad” he whimpered kissing down your neck. “Alright honey calm down I’ve got you” you reassured him gently. “Trousers off”. He scrambled back to his seat quickly undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down. He was throbbing for you, streaks of precum running down the side of him from his leaking slit. “Please y/n please” he whined thrusting up into the air. You smirked to yourself running your finger up and down his erection, barely touching him. He twitched, a spurt of precum leaking down towards his base as you finally took pity on him, wrapping your hand around his base before pumping up to his tip. “UGH FUCK YES” he moaned loudly, hips humping up towards you as his head rolled back onto the headrest. “God yes please faster, faster” he whined begging for more friction. You quickened you hand, thumb swiping over his tip after every stroke. “M’sorry gonna cum, can’t hold it, cumming ,cumming,I’M CUMMING FUCKKK” he screamed as you finally granted the relief he’d been waiting for. “That’s it honey, that’s it” you whispered, calming him down as he came down from his high, gentle murmurs from him as he buried his head into your neck, slumping over the centre of the car. “I know honey, did so good for me”. It was peaceful, calm, perfect. Well, it was. The little bubble you two were in was immediately burst the moment you made eye contact with a man leaving the bar. Your boss. Aaron Hotchner. The best profiler you have ever known, the man who knows everything. You had no idea how much he’d seen but from the eyebrow raise and slight smirk on his face you knew he knew exactly what was up. God your timing sucks, you’ll both have to work on that.

[glamourscat]

Omg I loved your Tim headcanons??? Can I request Tim crush headcanons. Just anything about Tim having a crush on the reader and how he will try to flirt with them

a/n: i have already done a more general hcs w all of the bats + bruce and how they act when they have crushes (you can find it here)

i wanted to explore more of tim's, so here's me yapping some more lol :') thank you for the request, i hope it's what you were looking for <3

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He is not the best at handling his emotions, we have seen that in different cases. He is headstrong when needed, with a drive and a passion that's almost scary. Because you see this lean guy, 5ft7 on a good day, who's absolutely unhinged doing the most random things on a Tuesday morning and you are just there thinking "how is he not a danger to society?" (someone pls tell me you get the reference lmao)

Still, when having a crush his passionate, unhinged and almost erratic behaviour doesn't go away. If anything, it mutates between a mix of awkwardness, cuteness and nerdiness. An intriguing mix of nervousness, sweetness, and the occasional awkwardness.

As someone who is naturally observant and analytical, he might be cautious and deliberate in his approach, trying to gauge how the person feels before making any moves.

He would for sure be the type of person to do nice, kind gestures in really subtle ways. It's all about showing how much he cares but under the radar at first.

From helping you on cases, if you're a vigilante. Patrolling together or going to missions together. Bringing your favourite snacks or even accompany you somewhere. The thing is, if you're Tim's crush, you're also his best friend-- or at least, a really close friend. So, all of these acts would almost feel natural, if not normal.

Now my fav, the ✦ Awkward Flirting ✦

He is so awkward that you get second hand embarrassment. He might try to make a joke or even a little comment, but it comes out a bit too nerdy or forced because he is trying so hard to the point it's not even more him:

“So, did you know that if you’re ever stuck in an elevator, you should press the emergency button and NOT just wait around like most people do?” (awkward pause) “Not that you’d ever get stuck, I mean. I just thought it might be... helpful.”

BLUSHING. Oh 100%.  Tim’s blush is immediately visible when he's around his crush. It might happen when you say something kind, when his attention lingers on you too long, or when you smile at him.

He’s the type who will fumble with his words, maybe try to play it cool by pretending he’s focusing on whatever he was doing.

I have said it before too, but he will over analyze and overthink like crazy. Every interaction with you becomes a ground to investigate. "Wait-- they smiled at me more than usual today" our delusional king <3

someone will definitely notice. I have the feeling Jason would be the first. Would he help? absolutely no. he would tease tim. which will prompt him to go to steph or barbs BUT only if he is truly desperate. Like, he has reached a point where he is staring at the ceiling at night unable to sleep because he keeps overthinking and so he pushes himself to ask for help. it might backfire on him, it might not. but who knows right?

Indirect Compliments are also a big thing. He might not say "hey I like you" straight to your face, but he will send signals. He’d throw out little compliments disguised as casual observations.

He is just a spontaneous dork. He has that nerdy rizz, if you know, you know.

“look, it's us” (cue cutting to him showing you a tiktok of two cats cuddles snuggling)

which on the matter of TikTok, he will SPAM you with stuff. Memes, tiktoks everything. Daily random selfies or random texts after patrol in the early hours of the morning.

Lastly, his body language is a dead give away too. And would betray him so badly. He might lean in a bit when you’re talking, keep his gaze on you for just a little too long, or even get a little fidgety when you're near. He’d try not to be too obvious, but you'd catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, only for him to quickly look away blushing when your eyes meet. (should I do a oneshot about this? let me know)

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[mdsbabygirl]

Sex with Nagi Seishiro

Pairing: Nagi Seishiro x FEM!reader

Genre: Smut

Wc: 797

Cw: use of pet names, very lazy Nagi, shafting, cowgirl, fingering, eating out, cockwarming, mentions of Doggystyle, a bit of biting idk ... NOT PROOFREAD

Notes: as usual this is rushed, but I really wanted to write some smut so here it is loveys... Once I'm done w exams I hope I'll start writing some longer fics, and also draw some fanfics of our lovely men idk...

Sex with an extremely lazy Nagi would most likely revolve around finding the most effortless and enjoyable ways for the both of you to get what you want. He would likely prefer positions that minimize movement and maximize relaxation. For instance, I think the spooning position would be one his favs. Like, just imagine laying on your sides facing the same direction, as Seishiro gently thrusts inside you from behind. This position would be ideal as it allows for intimate, slow, and sensual lovemaking without needing him to make great efforts.

I think he'd also pepper kisses on your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he softly bites your supple skin, when you clench too hard on him, "ungh..Angel, not too tight.. ha.. don't wanna cum yet"

Another one of his fav positions would be cowgirl. Our lazy Nagi would just lay on his back, stay cozy on your soft bed, while you move up and down in his big cock, your sensual and precise movements making him feel heavenly. He wouldn't just like this position for the comfort and the pleasure, but also because he enjoys seeing his pretty gf getting off on his dick, looking super pretty for him as her boobs bounce and her mouth is wide open to let out all those sweet moans he so much loves to hear.

"Ahh.. yes just like that, yes.. oh fuck.. you're so damn pretty!" He'd gently murmur as he looks intently at you, savoring both the immense pleasure you're giving him and your beauty.

Another potential scenario could involve Seishiro using his tongue to great effect, as this requires little to no movement on his part. He may opt for extended oral sessions, taking his time to explore every inch of your wet throbbing cunt with his lips and tongue, savoring each taste and texture. He'd also involve some fingering if he's feeling extra, using those long thick digits to great use.

He'd gently insert one finger at a time, making sure your pussy adjusts to their size before adding another. His fingers would go at a slow pace at first, taking his time to savour the way your body reacts to him. Then once he feels you got a bit more used to his ministrations, his digits would delve deeper, sliding in the depths of your warm wetness.

He massages your inner walls with deliberate strokes, pushing in and curling his fingers, eventually finding your g-spot with ease. He circles it gently, making you see Stars.

When it comes to climax, Nagi may not want to expend any extra energy. In this case, the "shafting" technique, would work best. He'd penetrate you from behind, his hard cock pushing past your slick folds and filling you up so perfectly, so that, then he lets you rub your puffy clit to orgasm. Sometimes you'd ask him to do it, and with a little sight he obliges, because you're his sweet loving gf and he's more than willing to make a little more effort to please you ... But tbh, I feel like he'd get bored quickly so instead he just starts pounding you, holding you by the waist and moving you on his dick like some kind of Fleshlight, until the both of you cum.

In addition to being as lazy as a sloth, Nagi is an avid gamer. Which means that it's unlikely he'll stop gaming if you're horny.. sorry 😔.. BUT.. BUT, he would tell you that you're more than welcome to sit on him, and cockwarm him while he's playing.. which is why, most of your intimate moments are just some long cockwarming sessions that end up in you riding him or using your vibrator while still moving on his dick ....

Omg wait... Nagi does enjoy using toys.. heck yeah he does, he finds them entertaining. But not just any toys, the ones that are remote controlled like vibrators and whatnot. Now hear me out, what if Nagi asked you to play a game w him, and he told you the loser had to endure some kind of punishment... Hehe, punishment..

So you lose eventually, and then he pulls out a little purple vibrator and proceeds to pleasure you with it until overstimulation.. and he doesn't stop there, no no no ... He does not, he'll pull his large hardness and proceed to fuck you as he keeps overstimulating you, making you squirm, shake and moan his nane like a prayer. You'd beg him to stop, ask him for a moment of rest with teary pleading eyes, but he wouldn't stop, insisting that losers get their punishment no matter what.

"You lost Angel! Maybe next you'll learn to play better!"

Pov: me who loses on purpose just to get pounded by him...

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission.

[junkissed]

healing hands

member — junhui x f reader genre — smut, fluff, f2l, comfort sex word count — 2.3k synopsis — wen junhui: your best friend? check. roommate? check. now you can add "personal masseuse" to that list, too. warnings — description of female anatomy, mentioned that reader gets periods (but isn't on it in this fic), super soft dom!jun, fingering, breastplay, hand kink if you squint notes — requested by @jaemlonfz — this has been driving me insane every time i open my inbox so i hope now it drives you insane too :D if you liked this please be sure to reblog or send me an ask, feedback is super appreciated and helps me write more fics like this!

movie nights with jun are your favorite nights.

that is, they usually are.

usually you get to curl up in bed with your best friend for a sleepover, and despite the fact that you’re already roommates and you see him every night anyway, it still feels extra special. the snacks, the dimmed lights, watching movies into the late hours of the night until you fall asleep.

except tonight.

you groan and roll over onto your side with a humph, and jun shifts his arm around you with a frown. "something wrong?"

"think i'm about to start my period soon. my boobs have been so sore all day.” you whine, and he frowns again at your discomfort.

“would it help if you, like, massaged them?”

you glance up at him suspiciously. “what, are you offering or something?”

he shrugs, far too nonchalantly for someone who just offered to play with your boobs. he did just offer that, right? “i mean, if you want me to. or i could go get the heating pad instead.”

“i… alright, fine.” you push yourself back up into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard of your bed.

jun grabs the remote and mutes the tv as you tug your shirt off over your head, awkwardly trying not to make eye contact with him when you notice him staring.

you start to reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, but his hands quickly find yours and help you with it. the loose straps slide down your shoulders, and you catch yourself holding your breath as he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor, leaving you topless in front of him. 

your nipples are already hard, and you force yourself not to cover them instinctively. it’s not the first time he’s seen you naked, but it is the first time he’ll be touching you while you are, and it makes you shy.

he pulls his hands away and folds them in his lap, waiting until you nod before he gently cups your breasts in his palms. 

you have to fight the urge to shiver as he starts to massage your boobs, his fingers moving across your chest with tender yet deliberate motions. you let out a soft sigh and relax your shoulders, melting into the pillows. maybe it’s your hormones making you not think clearly, but he actually is giving relief to the ache in your muscles. the fact that your best friend is devastatingly gorgeous isn’t helping your case.

his slender fingers press into your sides, long nails scratching gently against your skin as he works. you’re sure he must be able to feel your racing heartbeat beneath his palm, but you ignore it and try to focus on the tingly feeling in your stomach instead.

he bends his knuckles, dragging the pads of his fingertips carefully across your chest and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

he brushes his thumb against your nipple and it makes you shiver involuntarily, and he has to resist the urge to press his whole face into your chest. at this point he can’t tell which one of you is enjoying this more, because to him this is a dream come true. getting to touch you, hold you, make you feel good.

he has to focus every ounce of his energy into not getting hard, because it's totally normal to give your best friend a very platonic boob massage, right? 

at least, that's what he tells himself until his hand squeezes you a little too hard and you let out the whiniest, most guttural moan he's ever heard in his life and instantly his crotch is stiff as a board.

your eyes widen in shock at the noise that escapes you, but for some strange reason you don’t feel embarrassed by it at all. if anything, you just want him to keep going.

he starts to pull away but you quickly put your hands on top of his, holding him in place against your chest. "don't stop. please? feels so good…"

"do— do you want…?" he stammers, and you cut him off with another soft moan.

you let go of his hands and after a moment he continues, letting him move wherever he wants across your body. you watch his eyes dart back and forth as if can't seem to decide what he wants to do first.

his palms glide over your stomach, creeping lower until his fingertips come to a stop at the waistband of your pajama pants.

"can i?" he asks in a choked whisper, looking up at you with a glazed look in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. you whimper out his name in response, lifting your hips to encourage him.

slowly his hand disappears into your pants, and you gasp as you feel his fingers glide over the warm skin of your stomach beneath your panties. he keeps his eyes on you the entire time, studying your reaction as he continues moving down.

he nearly falls off the bed in surprise when he finally finds your entrance, and your hand flies out to grip his wrist between your legs. "oh my god, you're so fucking wet—" he chokes out, adding pressure to his fingertips to draw another moan out of you.

he runs his fingers through your folds before tentatively pushing the tip of his index finger into you, watching as you lean back against the pillows and arch off the bed. "jun—" you gasp, squeezing his wrist tighter.

"stop?" he asks nervously at your reaction, and you nearly give yourself whiplash from how fast you shake your head no.

"don't stop touching me, please," you moan, lifting your hips up to grind against his hand. “fuck—please, jun.”

he positions himself beside you to get a better angle before cupping your pussy with his hand, letting out a groan as he feels your throbbing heat. you keep your hand on his wrist and he lets you guide him where you want him, pressing his finger deeper into you. you can't help the way your walls clench around him, whimpering as he slowly pulls his finger out before pushing it back in.

your grip on his hand loosens and he manages to work another finger into you, your cunt squeezing his knuckles and pulling him in.

“fuck, you're so tight… baby, spread your legs a little for me— there you go.” he coos when you cooperate, wordlessly following his instructions without even a second of hesitation. you try not to linger on the name he calls you but your body betrays you, clenching so hard around his fingers that he gives you a curious look and you have to pretend to be oblivious.

“you like that… baby?” he asks with a toothy grin, and you whine shyly, giving him all the information he needs. he curls his fingers upwards inside you and your legs try to clamp shut around him, but he just pulls them apart again and continues the motion of his fingers.

“just relax, baby. i'll take care of you,” he says softly, leaning over your body and bringing his free hand back up to knead your breast. within minutes he's reduced you to a whimpering, begging mess, and you’ve forgotten all about your soreness with his gentle hands caressing every inch of you. 

your breath catches in your throat and you can’t break your eyes away from the sight of his arm down the front of your pants, disappearing from view at the wrist. thick veins scattered across his forearm bulge with exertion, and you have the overwhelming urge to run your fingers over his arms and trace each and every vein.

he hums out your name, drawing your attention back up to his face. “can i kiss you?”

you can barely manage a nod, pulling him down to meet your lips in a searing kiss. his kisses grow deeper simultaneously as his fingers grow rougher, capturing your moans with his lips until it makes you dizzy.

his cock is aching, and if it were any other time he probably would’ve made some excuse and slinked off to his room to jerk off to the thought of you. but he’s so fixated on your body, lips pressed against yours and long fingers buried in your dripping cunt, his own pleasure is the last thing on his mind. he doesn’t care if he never gets off ever again, not when he has you laid out right here in front of him, making sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

he breaks away from you and you whimper at the loss, chest heaving with shallow breaths as he moves down your body to rest his chin against your stomach.

“would this make them feel better?” he asks as he looks up at you, tilting his head to press his lips against the side of your boob in a gentle kiss.

“already feels so good—” your hands fall down to hold his head, threading your fingers in his head in a futile effort to help. “jun, please, you feel so good.”

he smiles again and carefully wraps his lips around your breast, never breaking eye contact with you as he stares up at you laying on your stomach. his weight feels good on top of you, and his mouth feels even better. he flattens his tongue and runs it over your nipple, groaning against your chest.

finally his mouth leaves your breast, replacing it with his other hand as he adjusts his fingers, positioning his thumb against your clit and beginning to rub small circles. your hips buck upwards from the stimulation, but he pins you down to the bed with his elbow, his other hand still occupied with your breast.

“sit still, sweetheart,” he says with a short laugh, though his voice comes out significantly more breathier than when he last spoke a few minutes ago. “you’re gripping my fingers so tight. just relax for me.”

but his words only make you clench around him harder, a choked whimper leaving your lips. “close, jun— ‘m so close, please…”

he curls his fingers deeper inside you, his thumb pressing more roughly against your clit as he builds you up closer to your release. he can tell you’re right at the edge, can feel your wetness gushing around his fingers, and it only spurs him to keep going. “promise i’m gonna make you feel so good, ‘mkay? you can let go whenever you want, baby.”

it doesn’t take long before you’re crumbling in his arms, mouth falling open in a gasp as your eyes wrench shut and your body freezes. your hand tightens around his wrist but he keeps going, the gentle motions of his fingers carrying you through your orgasm and leaving you panting for breath.

every muscle in your body is tensed as he continues to work you until you fall into a second orgasm before the first has even fully ended. your body is covered in sweat as you writhe against his hand, your pajama pants sticking uncomfortably to your legs.

your cunt continues to pulse around jun’s fingers as they grind to a halt, blinking your eyes open as your vision gradually begins to return to you. you let out a shaky sigh and look up at him as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your pants.

“you feel better now?” he says. he starts to scoot away from you, but you whine and try to grab onto him to tug him back closer, and he pauses.

“wait, jun—”

“mm?”

your grip on his wrist is weak, but he lets you pull him back easily anyway. “can you, just… don’t go. please?”

his smile lights up the entire room, so bright that it outshines the light coming from the muted tv. he leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips as gentle as his voice. “of course. what do you need?” 

“you. a long, hot shower. but mostly you.”

he smiles again. “i can help with that. if you want me to.”

“why would you think wouldn’t i want you to?” you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, catching the way his eyes briefly glance down at your bare breasts but pretends he doesn’t.

he flops down on the bed beside you with a nervous giggle. “just giving you a chance to change your mind. i don’t know if you… nevermind.”

you pause, wondering what he was going to say. the lines of friendship are long gone by now, blurred by activities that feel too intimate to say out loud, but that small part of you is still worried about losing your best friend.

you run your thumb along the length of his arm, feeling the little divot on the inside of his elbow and tracing the grooves from his veins as you think carefully about your next words.

“do you—” you pause, wondering if it’s the right time or even the right thing to say. but with him, it’s a chance worth taking, so why not? you clear your throat before trying again. “will you sleep over? in here, with me?”

he smiles again, and relief washes over you as he leans over to press a tiny, gentle kiss to your lips. “i wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else tonight.”

you grin into his kiss, squeezing his arm lightly. “good. because i owe you a massage now.”

“oh, really?”

you let go of his arm and reach up to rub your thumb along his cheek. “gotta return the favor somehow.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[love-byers]

(warning: long)

we should talk more about mikes choice of words in the rink o mania fight, or rather the writers choice of words

"You basically sabotaged the whole day!!"

sabotage

in case you need a reminder of what sabotage means

deliberately destroy, damage, or obstruct

mike is not just saying will was being a douche for moping, rolling his eyes, and barely talking. he's saying wills a douche because he's doing it on purpose. not even just on purpose either, he's saying will planned this. will wanted to ruin the day. mike thinks will was out to get him by withholding his friendship. obviously will wasn't doing any of this, he just moped because he felt brushed off by mike and was ignored (or so he thought).

that kind of behavior, thinking the consequences of his own actions are a planned attack against him, is very consistent with the way he acted in s3 when el dumped him and he blamed it on max.

we can connect this directly to mike's apology where he calls himself a self-pitying idiot. the self-pity is mike allowing himself to believe it's not his fault that his day sucked, that it's not his fault will is acting this way. deep down he knows it's his own fault by purposefully brushing will off at the airport, but he was being so self-absorbed and self-pitying that he convinced himself it wasn't.

"why is this on me?? why am i the bad guy??"

so lets go through this again, inferring from mike's own words.

when will left hawkins, he felt weird. he'd just spent the whole summer trying to be grown up and acting like he didn't care about dnd anymore, shutting will down and really hurting him in the process, so he probably feels embarrassed that he now feels the exact opposite. he enjoyed spending time with max, lucas, and dustin but it just wasn't the same without will. he missed will so badly that the fact that will was barely reaching out got to his head, and he felt too insecure to find out for himself. he didn't know if will felt the same way or if he was doing fine without mike, making lots of new friends and enjoying life. he was afraid he'd lost will. then here comes el with her letters saying how life is awesome and they have lots of friends. mike probably thought, oh now i'm DEFINITELY not telling him how i feel. the letter about will potentially liking a girl was the final straw. wow. so he's occupied with some girl and thats why he won't talk to me. so now mikes determined to not give will an inkling of an idea that he's bothered or that he cares. psh, mike could care less. maybe when will sees that mike totally doesn't care he'll feel like he screwed up and he'll be super nice to compensate and win mike back.

so mike gets to lenora and hey, will, i totally don't care about seeing you, see how i dodged your hug? i don't care. then he sees the painting. maybe it's not for someone he likes, maybe it's for me. here you go will, opportunity one to win back my affection.

"Uh, what's that?"

"Um, it's nothing, it's just this painting I've been working on."

"Cool."

operation-act like i don't care: EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR FAILED.

LOOK at his face bro. he looks heartbroken.

from here on mike just got more and more annoyed. will isn't trying to win him back, he isn't compensating for the months of silence. he's acting sad. he's acting sad? he has the audacity to act sad after he made all these friends and left me behind?? no, this is not my fault, this is not on me. it gets under his skin in a way he can't ignore. those feelings of guilt and annoyance that will is causing mixed with his months worth of self pity and convincing himself he's not the problem leads him to another thought. he's doing this on purpose. he's punishing me. this was his plan all along. he's trying to ruin my day for no reason, because i clearly didn't do anything to deserve this.

then angela shows up and humiliates el and mike, for some insane reason, uses this as an excuse to express his anger to will, even though it had literally nothing to do with will.

"You should've told me she was having trouble."

"Well, I didn't know they were gonna be here, Mike."

"Yeah, but you knew she was having trouble for like a year and didn't tell me."

in WHAT world is this will's fault?? he had absolutely no idea el was lying until that day. and mike is blaming him? no, he's really not, he just wants a reason to express his anger without having to admit why he's angry.

"Well, I didn't know she was lying to you."

"Is that why you decided to be a douche to her all day?"

her. he's hiding behind el's name. psh, what? i don't care that you weren't talking to me, it's because of el.

el just got publicly humiliated and mike thinks now is the time to get on will and act like el's biggest problem was will not talking to her?? no way. he just doesn't want will to know that these are his feelings.

"I wasn't being a douche!"

this completely sets mike off. how dare will act all innocent after what he did to me all day? any part of him that was trying to hide that will's behavior is bothering him has been completely overridden. will purposefully withholding his attention from mike has pissed him off soooooo badly that he can't keep it to himself anymore or hide behind el.

"You were! You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day!"

yup, thats right will. i know exactly what you're doing and i'm calling you out on it.

"Well she was lying to you, Mike! Straight to your face ever since you got here! And...and I've been a total third wheel all day it's been miserable. So sorry if I wasn't...if i wasn't smiling."

third wheel? really?

"Yeah, whatever man."

"Well what about us?"

"What?"

i imagine this is where mike shits himself. i mean he literally stops in his tracks. will is directly addressing what he'd been trying to hide his care for the whole time, them. all of a sudden after all these months, he cares about us? and it's poking at that weird feeling he had, like he missed will too much. like he was feeling too much.

"What, you're mad that I didn't talk to you? Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say."

"That's just not true."

mike says that so fast it's like a knee-jerk reaction. of course he cares what will has to say. all he's wanted all day, and all this time for that matter, was for will to talk to him. and will is blaming him?

"You called maybe a couple times. It's been a year, Mike. Meanwhile El has like a book of letters from you."

now mike's defense is kicking in. he feels like will is directly picking at that feeling. the weirdness. the fact that he feels differently for will than the rest of his friends, even his girlfriend.

"That's because she's my girlfriend, Will!"

"And us?"

now the alarms are going off. he knows something. "us" for will in this moment is just their friendship. "us" for mike is something more, because that's what's been brewing in him the whole time they've been apart. internalized homophobia in 3..2..

"We're friends! We're. Friends."

"Well, we used to be best friends!"

oh. he was just talking about our friendship. i was tweaking a little bit. and...ouch. will just officially said they aren't best friends anymore. and he's blaming it on mike. but mikes defenses are still up high.

"Well...well maybe you should've reached out more, I don't know! But why is this on me? Why am I the bad guy?!"

then will is lost for words, and he just look sad. and as mad as mike is, he hates seeing will that way.

i imagine the day or two between this and his apology, mike went over this fight in his mind multiple times. and the more he thought about it, the more he realizes, ah shit. i was way too in my head and this was completely one sided. will wasn't plotting against me, i just felt so bad for myself i convinced myself i did nothing wrong. all this because i thought he found new friends and i felt bad for myself. and now i've lost my best friend and made him feel like all of it is his fault. i have to let him know it's all on me.

tldr: mike is weird and gay.