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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk.

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything.

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her.

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend.

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk.

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about.

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?”

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went.

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either.

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined.

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket.

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’. Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift.

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you.

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell.

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste.

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear.

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Spencer froze.

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?”

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.”

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work.

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.”

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.”

He chuckled. “Will do.”

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too.

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case.

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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assistimize · 3 months ago

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Airbnb Virtual Assistant

Assistimize is an Airbnb virtual assistant company that provides end-to end support for short-term rental hosts, helping streamline operations and enhance guest experiences.

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fairy-writes · 1 year ago

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can I request for Soshiro and Gen fanfic (separate) on the female reader who's a healer that is clearly active on the battlefield and when the kaiju noticed this they started to target her to prevent healing her allies?

Also, can I add about the reader's attitude? Her persona has a cold/quiet and stoic personality o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Narumi Gen x Reader

Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Defense Force!Reader, Doctor!Reader

Notes: I am doing my new HC style because there are multiple characters requested :)

This entails a few HCs and then a small blurb!

Also, Reader’s personality ended up a bit more self-deprecating than expected in Hoshina’s…

I ALSO REFUSE TO PUT GIFS OF NARUMI. I WILL BURN HIS ANIME DESIGN WITH FIRE

__________________________________________________________________________

Narumi Gen

At first, you didn’t notice.

You were too busy applying a tourniquet to the leg of a fallen Defense Officer when the Yoju began to attack.

Luckily, the officer you were treating still had working arms and shot it down.

But they only kept coming.

Soon, you were overwhelmed and had to retreat.

You grab the straps of your fallen comrade and drag them under some rubble that’s standing precariously.

It might fall on you, but it was better than nothing for the time being.

You press your fingers to the communication earpiece nestled in your ear.

“I need immediate evac in Sector Zulu now! The Yoju are mobilizing and targeting the medics!” You holler as another medic is swallowed whole by one of the bigger Yoju.

Was this the work of that one kaiju? Kaiju No. 9?

You had no clue. But you couldn’t dwell on it right now. You had to survive.

Gen is furious by the time he gets to the hospital. He pushes past nurses and doctors and patients until he makes it to the front desk and barks out your name to a startled receptionist. He was a sight for sore eyes, still in his combat uniform, covered in kaiju blood, and still hauling around his weapon.

“She’s in the Intensive Care Unit. Hold on—Wait!” She calls as soon as he leaves, but he pays her no mind.

He knew where you were now. He could find the specific room number when he got there.

Only he didn’t need a room number because you met him in the hallways as soon as he pushed through the double doors.

“Gen?” You look confused, your right arm bandaged and in a sling, and a swath of bandages wrapped around your head.

“What were you thinking?!” He snaps, and you scowl at that.

“The Yoju attacked me. Not the other way around, dumbass.” You snap back, and he glares, but on the inside, he’s relieved.

“Why are you up and moving anyway? You should be resting.” He says, taking your good arm and steering you to a stray gurney stored in the hallway. You shrug off his arm.

“And leave my patients without care? No way. I’m fine.” You reply and try to get up, but all but fall over when he pushes you gently.

“Clearly not.” He says and sets his bayonet to the side, propping it up against the wall and taking a seat next to you.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Gen asks eventually, and you wiggle the fingers in your cast.

“Broken wrist in three places. A pretty nasty concussion. A couple of cracked ribs. Apparently, my heart stopped after our shelter collapsed.” You say coldly, matter-of-factly, as if it was a walk in the park and not the fact that you died.

Gen remembered hearing in the com piece that your heart stopped. He remembered the officer you were attending to saying he was starting chest compressions after not finding a pulse. He remembered feeling his own heart had stopped when the officer claimed chest compressions weren’t working.

Luckily, you were wearing one of your newly designed suits—the kind with remote-activated defibrillators in the chest area. It had to be activated three times before you began breathing again and your heart started again.

But you were okay.

You were okay. You were alive. And that’s all Gen could ask for

Hoshina Soshiro

“WE NEED EVAC IMMEDIATELY! REPEAT WE NEED EVAC IMMEDIATELY! WE HAVE WOUNDED AND THE YOJU ARE TARGETING THE MEDICS!” You bellow into the receiver as you dodge under a swipe of the Yoju before you.

You stand and sprint, trying to lure the Yoju away from your wounded comrades.

Better you die than them.

Your com crackles in your ear, and you hear your lover's voice calling your name in a calm panic.

“Where are you?” Hoshina Soshiro demands as you heave and pant. Your suit is dangerously close to overheating, with you using the suit’s strength to help your fellow officers.

“Sector Juliette heading northbound on 12th Street.” You wheeze and shriek as a blow crashes into your back, sending you flying into some shattered concrete.

Your shoulder is dislocated. Your ribs are broken. It feels like your nose might be as well.

“Hold out a little longer, my love. I’m almost there!” He pleads, and you turn on your back to see the Yoju looming over you.

“I’m sorry, Soshiro…” You murmur.

Oh well…

Better you die than them.

Just as you close your eyes, you hear the draw of a katana from its sheath.

When you wake up, you feel someone’s hand holding your own.

You turn—with some difficulty with the brace around your neck—to see Soshiro holding your hand in one hand, typing out a report on his phone with the other.

“Soshi?” You rasp, and he looks up, an unreadable look on his face.

“You’re awake.” He says, and you nod, wincing at the ache in your neck. He leans forward, still not letting go of your hand. “Careful, you got some nasty whiplash.” He says, and you wheeze out a laugh.

“I’m not surprised. I took a bad hit.” You say, and he scoffs.

“I saw.” He replies and goes back to his report.

It doesn’t take long after that for you to speak.

“You’re mad at me.” Soshiro shakes his head at that, thumb pausing from where he was typing on the screen. Likely updating Captain Ashiro on your condition.

“I’m not mad. Just upset. You gave up.” He says, and you sigh, leaning back against your pillows. Luckily, your bed is propped up, so you don’t have to adjust it.

“I have a duty to protect my comrades.” Soshiro grits his teeth.

“That doesn’t mean you have to die to protect them. You’re a talented doctor; don’t waste that life of yours.” He pleads, opening his eyes to look at you desperately.

The doctor comes in then, checks you over, and gives you your diagnosis. Whiplash—hence the neck brace—three broken ribs, a dislocated left arm, and a torn rotator cuff.

“Do you have help at home? Given your skills, I assume you know how to take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands.” The doctor says. You are about to shake your head when your lover pipes up.

“I’ll be helping.” He says firmly, leaving no room for you to argue. The doctor accepts this readily and nods, leaving the room with promises to return with discharge paperwork.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You say as soon as the door shuts, and Soshiro raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll take care of you.” He repeats, and you hiss out a laugh.

“It’s rotten work.” At that, his grip tightens.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

#narumi gen x reader #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #narumi gen x you #kn8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #fairy writes

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vmedxeasy · 10 months ago

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The Role of a Virtual Medical Assistant in Modern Healthcare

In the rapidly evolving world of healthcare, efficiency is key to providing excellent patient care. With the increasing demand for healthcare services, professionals are turning to digital solutions to manage administrative tasks without sacrificing the quality of care. A Virtual Medical Assistant (VMA) is one such innovation, offering support to healthcare providers in streamlining their workflows, reducing burnout, and improving overall operational efficiency. VMeDx is at the forefront of this shift, providing trained virtual assistants to enhance medical practice productivity.

What is a Virtual Medical Assistant?

A Virtual Medical Assistant is a remote professional who assists healthcare providers with a range of non-clinical tasks. From managing patient records to appointment scheduling, VMAs play a vital role in ensuring that healthcare providers can focus on what matters most—patient care. These assistants are trained in medical terminology and processes, making them ideal for handling the unique demands of a medical practice.

How Can a Virtual Medical Assistant Improve Your Practice?

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Healthcare providers often face time constraints due to the overwhelming volume of administrative tasks. Virtual Medical Assistants manage tasks such as patient data entry, appointment scheduling, and even billing, allowing doctors and nurses to spend more time focusing on their patients. This improved time management leads to better care quality and more satisfied patients.

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Patient communication is a crucial aspect of healthcare. VMAs can manage inbound calls, respond to inquiries, and send follow-up messages, ensuring timely and effective communication. This not only keeps patients informed but also helps prevent missed appointments, improving patient outcomes.

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Hiring in-house staff for administrative duties can be costly, especially for smaller practices. VMAs offer a cost-effective solution by working remotely, eliminating the need for physical office space, benefits, and other related expenses. Additionally, virtual assistants can work flexible hours, allowing practices to provide around-the-clock administrative support.

4. Data Management and Record-Keeping

Medical records and patient data are critical for any healthcare provider. A Virtual Medical Assistant can efficiently manage electronic health records (EHR), ensuring that patient information is up-to-date and easily accessible. This level of organization not only improves patient care but also helps practices maintain compliance with regulations.

The Future of Healthcare with Virtual Medical Assistants

As healthcare continues to embrace digital transformation, the role of VMAs is likely to expand. From handling more complex administrative tasks to assisting with telemedicine, VMAs will become an integral part of the healthcare ecosystem. By freeing up time and resources, healthcare providers can focus on improving patient outcomes, while VMAs handle the operational aspects of the practice.

Conclusion

In a time when efficiency and patient-centered care are more important than ever, a Virtual Medical Assistant can revolutionize the way healthcare providers manage their practices. From reducing administrative burdens to improving patient communication, VMAs offer countless benefits. If you’re looking to streamline your healthcare operations and enhance your focus on patient care, consider leveraging the expert services of VMeDx.

#Remote Patient Monitoring #Healthcare Virtual Assistant #Virtual Medical Assistant #Medical Billing Virtual Assistant #Virtual Medical Receptionist

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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 6 months ago

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Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Grinding, Dry-Humping, Premature Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Switch!Jayce, Rough Kissing, Biting, Shower Sex, Angst, One Bed

Notes: I love my pathetic son Jayce, so I needed to make him just a bit wetter and sadder for… reasons. This is a two-parter, because it was looking too heavy as a one-shot and the second part still needs a bit more attention. I need to stop having too many multi-chapter projects at the same time before I go insane. Anyway, enjoy ❤️!!

(Chapter 2/End)

You tap your fingers on the wooden countertop, trying to remain calm despite the growing pressure inside your skull.

“And you're sure there's not a single other room left ?” you ask with a tense smile, your teeth grinding against each other almost audibly.

The receptionist gives you yet another blank stare. She's hardly older than seventeen, probably helping out her parent's business, and clearly not paid enough to care about whether or not you stay or go.

“No, ma'am, there are no other rooms available for the duration of your stay,” she repeats robotically. It's as if you've been stuck in the same dialogue tree for half an hour with a badly programmed NPC. “We're a family-owned business, and we only have ten rooms available at once. Your reservation was for a single bedroom, not two.”

The exaggerated sound of her slowly chewing gum is driving you insane. “She's just doing her job’, you have to remind yourself. It's not her fault, you know that; plus, if there's anybody to blame, it's Jayce.

You turn towards the culprit in question, large shoulders slightly slumped and eyes escaping your glare. Pathetic.

“Seriously, Jayce?” you state in disbelief. “I asked you to do one thing for the trip.”

Jayce visibly takes offence to that, raising one stupidly large hand in objection:

“That's not fair, I was also taking care of bringing the prototype!”

“And I signed us up to the conference,” you hiss back. “I prepared our lecture. I got our bus tickets here and back. I made our itinerary for the whole three days. I even wrote down where we could go to bring back souvenirs for Sky and Viktor!”

You point an accusing finger at him, tapping it against his chest:

“The only thing I wanted you to take care of was the fucking motel. And you couldn't even do that right!”

He throws up both hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes. If there wasn't a minor in the same room, you'd have no qualms about punching him.

“Fine, alright, I messed up, what do you want me to say? ‘I'm sorry I'm such an idiot'?”

You exhale in frustration, throwing him one last resentful look before turning back to the receptionist: “Yeah, that would be a good start”, you scoff under your breath.

He makes a dramatic groan of annoyance behind you, like this entire situation isn't his fault.

The Academy barely gives you enough budget to attend two national mechanical engineering conferences a year. You had originally planned to go to this one with Viktor, specifically because of its location: nice and remote, the air fresh and relaxing, the few roads leading to the major cities surrounded by millennial trees and mountain peaks. The perfect place for a spark of romance to ignite between the two of you.

Unfortunately, Viktor had already scheduled a weekend seminar on the exact same date as the conference. Sky, your fourth and youngest lab partner, wasn't equipped enough to help you present all the complex features of the university's mechanical arm project. Only one other person could.

Jayce fucking Talis, and his magical ability to never do anything right.

“We'll just get our money back and find another place to crash,” he argues, walking up next to you to the counter, resting his weight against it; it creaks disapprovingly. “It doesn't have to be a whole thing.”

“I'm sorry sir,” the teen flatly interjects, still smacking the gum between her brace-clad teeth. Squish, squish. “But we require cancellations to be made 24 hours prior to the reservation. We cannot reimburse you as per the politics you have agreed to on our website.”

You'd probably get more interactive answers from a chatbot. Jayce kneads the lines on his forehead, his practiced megawatt smile starting to crack from fatigue. The girl stares at him with neither sympathy nor sadness; she brings her lips together to form a small pink bubble, letting it burst after a few seconds. Pop.

“Okay, you know what,” Jayce sighs in defeat, “I'll pay for our rooms somewhere else. It's on me. As an apology.”

This would be an excellent time to not subtly sneak in a remark on how he's always using his parent's money to get himself out of the messes he's created, but the teen speaks up again before you get a chance to:

“Sir,” she adds with her irritatingly nasal voice. “You should know the only other motel in the area only accepts new reservations until 9 pm.”

She nods pointedly towards an old grandfather clock on the wall, and the two of you look at it in sync: it's 9:06.

Now you're genuinely hesitating between strangling her or Jayce.

“You really know how to make a guy feel better, huh?” Jayce attempts with a weak laugh, the plastic smile crumbling a little further.

She only gives him a vacant gaze.

Your legs are aching from the long ride in the overcrowded bus, and the arduous walk to the motel with half the disassembled prototype on your back. You've been dreaming of laying down on a bed for the last three hours, and even if another inn was open nearby, you doubt you'd have the will to carry everything there.

“I don't care anymore,” you sigh, massaging the side of your temple to relieve some of the built-up tension. “I'm exhausted, and we need to rest if we want to be any good tomorrow morning. We'll just figure it out upstairs.”

Jayce makes a non-committal sound of agreement; if you had more energy, you'd angrily ask him if he has any better ideas he'd like to share. But you don't, so you just focus back on the unexcited receptionist. Ironically enough, the letters on her cropped shirt spell ‘GOOD VIBES ONLY’.

“We'll take the room,” you conclude, worn out.

The teen barely blinks as she inputs something into her old computer, the vintage monitor buzzing unpleasantly before she hands you two scratched keycards mechanically.

“Room 207. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Grizzly Country Motel,” she deadpans.

You mumble a thank you, but she either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore it in favour of going back to her cell phone, like your entire interaction had been nothing more than chasing away a couple of flies.

Jayce at least has the decency to grab both your luggage and his before you both head towards the stairs; if he’s got all those muscles, he might as well put them to use. You feel a pang of annoyance at how easily he carries the bags that you struggled to hold the entire day.

“Don't you think it's weird when they say ‘we’?” he mumbles pensively as you go up the stairway. “It's like everyone who works at a hotel is in a hivemind.”

You can't even find the will to look back and glare at him.

“No, Talis, I was actually thinking about how I'd fix all the problems you've created,” you reply drily.

You reach the second floor, knees buckling. Room 201, 202, 203…

“You'll just take half the bed and I'll take the other half,” Jayce pipes up from behind you, grunting as he pulls the last bag up. “We'll put a pillow in the middle. It'll be like nothing even happened.”

Oh, to be in the mind of Jayce Talis, where the universe is so fucking simple and accountability is a myth.

You hate how he always has an answer for everything, like it’s all so easy for him. You've fought hard to reach this point — to earn your place in the Academy, to be seen as a true scientist, breaking through barriers in a field where women remain the minority. It’s taken blood, sweat, and tears, years of effort that people like Viktor and Sky understand and respect.

Room 204, 205, 206…

But for Jayce Talis, it’s all sunshine, rainbows, and candy-colored skies. His family owns one of the largest metallurgy companies in the country, and has stocks invested in some of the biggest steel producers on the globe. He’s never had to work a single day in his life to put himself through school, never had to sacrifice anything for his dreams. You don’t think there’s a single thing he’s ever actually had to put effort in: he barely studies and still aces all his classes, hardly puts any care into his appearance, yet always looks like he’s out of the cover of the Times’ 50 Most Desirable Men. It’s infuriating to an unspeakable degree.

Room 207.

You tap one of the keycards on the handle, letting out a small sigh of relief when the mechanism beeps joyfully. Today hasn't been ideal, but at least, you're only a few feet away from a soft, comfortable bed.

You open the door, walking in with little decorum. It's small and bare, as you expected: a single window dulled by years of exposure, a box TV taken straight from the nineties, a dingy light fixture barely illuminating a greyed-out wallpaper of a forest scene, and…

“Talis,” you pause. He almost bumps into your back, fumbling with the bags in his arms.

“What?” he asks in confusion, peering over your shoulder. “Oh,” he simply says when he sees the issue.

“Talis,” you repeat slowly, trying to maintain your tone even, despite how badly you want to scream. “This is a single bed.”

Indeed, not only is there only one bed, it's evidently sized for a single person. It's ridiculously tiny. It doesn't take a genius to see that with someone of Jayce's stature, you'd have to practically sleep on top of him if you wanted to share the bed.

“Wait, I swear I asked for doubles for both of us-” he protests immediately.

“It's fine,” you cut him off, despite it being the exact opposite. The headache is getting worse, and you don't feel like arguing with him any more than you already have. “I'll take the bed tonight, and you take the floor, and we alternate tomorrow.”

Jayce puts all the bags down on the carpeted floor, visibly dejected.

“Again, I'm really sorry about this,” he mumbles, and even though you can tell it's genuine, it doesn't make you feel any better. Every ambigious prejudice you might have had against him has just confirmed itself: he’s a spoiled mama’s boy, who isn’t able to navigate the real world alone, and who’ll simply cry when he messes up things for everyone else.

“Whatever,” you grumble, sitting tiredly on the edge of the puny bed that groans painfully under your weight; it doesn't even have the decency to be comfortable. “Just means I'll have to take care of everything if we ever do symposium together again.”

He looks like a scolded puppy, unmoving, eyes avoidant, his large frame blocking the doorway. Jayce is extremely talented at making people pity him, with his huge citrine eyes and perfectly rosy cheeks. It almost makes you hesitate before adding the next words, but bitterness takes the upper hand: “This is the kind of mistake Viktor never makes.”

He doesn't reply.

You can tell that hurt him just as much as you intended with the way his body slightly curves inwards, his fits visibly clenching inside his pockets. Well, good. He's old and smart enough to know actions have consequences. He's supposed to be your partner, not a child you're babysitting.

“I'm…gonna go take a shower,” he hesitantly adds after a few tense seconds. “I'm still sweaty from the bus ride. Is that… okay with you?”

You shrug with disinterest; you know you’re just being petty now, but thinking of everything that could have been, had it been Viktor on this trip and not him, is leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Fine by me. I'll take mine right after.”

He waits a moment, like he's expecting you to add something else; maybe extend the olive branch. When you don't provide, he sighs, making his way to the bathroom door and closing it behind him.

You let your body fall back on the mattress with a heavy ‘oomph’. It's not as uncomfortable as it first seemed; it's firm, but the covers are soft, and the single pillow feels nicely fluffed. A couple might actually be pretty cozy in this bed, one body on top of the other, their libs entangled lovingly. It could have been you and Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor, and his honey-coloured eyes. Viktor, and his teasing smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Viktor, and the way his long fingers twirl in his chestnut hair when he's focused, the way he absentmindedly licks his bottom lip when he's lost in thought. Viktor, and-

“Hey, um,” Jayce's booming voice from the other room interrupts your reverie. “C'mere for a sec?”

You groan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you pretend he isn't there, he'll disappear all on his own.

“No, seriously,” he insists.

No luck. You get up lethargically, cursing the man under your breath.

“Left side with the red is hot, right side with the blue is cold, Talis,” you ironize. You open the door to the bathroom to see him standing in front of the shower door, thankfully still fully clothed. “Do you need help opening the shampoo bottle, too?”

He glares back at you in annoyance:

“Fuck off. Look.”

He nods towards a paper sign you hadn't noticed tapped on the glass panel, amateurishly plastified with a clear file folder.

[PLEASE DO NOT USE THE SHOWER MORE THAN ONCE A DAY. 10 MINUTES OF HOT WATER PER ROOM]

Well, you were wrong. Jayce Talis isn't just a forgetful idiot with bad luck.

He's a fucking curse.

“The room and the bed, I could forgive,” you start, fuming. But the shower?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” he yells back melodramatically. “You told me to find something cheap to not go over budget!”

You shove him in frustration, only getting more annoyed when it doesn't make his stupidly huge body move a single inch:

“I didn't mean you should book a fucking dumpster!”

A loud, pointed knock echoing from beyond the bathroom wall silences you both.

Delightful. The neighbours can hear everything.

You move a step away from Jayce, the width of the bathroom not allowing much in terms of distancing.

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath. You aren’t, but it's that or getting kicked out of the only open motel in miles for a noise complaint. “Yelling isn't gonna lead us anywhere. You can take five minutes, and I'll take the other five. It's gonna be short, but that's probably the best we can do.”

He at least has the decency to look appreciative, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“I can give you the whole ten minutes, to apologize. This is my fault,” he admits. It’s always like this with him, as if his never-ending self-pity cleanses him of any possible wrongdoing. You despise that.

“And have you stink up the whole place smelling like a football locker room? No way,” you scrunch up your nose. Just by sharing a workspace with him, you know Jayce has the hygiene skills of a teenage boy who thinks Axe body spray and cologne make sweat magically vanish; the sheer power of the unholy combination would keep you awake all night.

“Or…” Jayce trails on for a few uncharacteristically long seconds. He's usually more the type to say things before reflecting on them, but he's pinching his lips tightly, clearly hesitant about what he's going to add next. “…We could share the shower?”

You look at him with an expression frozen between incomprehension and disgust: “What?”

“I mean, it's big enough for two people to stand without touching,” he quickly justifies, raising his hands innocently. “I could take the flexible hose, and you'd just go under the showerhead. That way we'd both get ten minutes!”

He's using the overly excited voice he takes on whenever he's giving someone his sales pitch for a new, stupid idea he's had. It might work wonders on most, but you know better than to fall for it.

“So you're that desperate to see me naked?” you sneer.

“I'm trying to be helpful here!” he complains.

If you're being honest, it's not that bad of an idea. The shower is small in width, but it's quite long, making it a very viable option for two people to use at once. If you manoeuver everything right, it'll almost be like you're taking a long, nice ten-minute shower on your own.

“Fine,” you capitulate, making sure to enunciate the word painfully slowly so he knows you're not doing it out of the kindness of your heart. “But if you tell anyone this happened, especially Viktor, I'm cutting off your balls and using them to-”

“Yeah, got it, wouldn't want Viktor to think you like me,” he taunts mockingly, puckering his lips in a false kiss at the other man's name.

It's the first time you've agreed to an idea from Jayce, and you're already regretting it.

“Just shut up and get in the fucking shower,” you spit out, going back to the main room without sparing him another look. “Face the wall and call me when you're done. There’s no reason for this to be weird.”

—

He’s hard.

Very obviously and undeniably hard.

Jayce has been splashing his face with cold water for the last few minutes, to no avail. He's tried every technique he can possibly think of: running in place, breathing exercises, imagining his abuelita naked, nothing is working.

The only thing he can visualize is your body, completely bare in that shower, only a few inches away from his. The water pouring down from your hair to your shoulders, to your breasts, and then alongside the curves of your thighs, and your ass-

“Shut up,” he mumbles to himself in the empty bathroom.

It's not a secret to anyone that Jayce likes you. Neither is it a secret that you're utterly uninterested and only have eyes for Viktor, except perhaps for Viktor himself. It's kind of unfair how two-thirds of Viktor's lab partners are in love with him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get it, and that his eyes never lingered on that little mole above Viktor's lip for longer than they should have. But damn it, he wants you. He wants you to want him. Is that such an unfair thing to ask for?

You've got so much fight, so much fire in you, and he gets dizzy off the smouldering look in your eyes whenever you disagree with him. And disagree, you do: he wants to use lithium batteries, you want to use sodium. He wants to focus on reducing energy intake for the prototype, you want to focus on adding new components to it. He offers to order pizza for the group after a long day of work, you'll hear of nothing but sushi.

It drives him insane, but less in a way that makes him despise you, and more in one that makes him angrily rub his cock raw every night at the thought of that angry pout on your lips.

“-ayce! You alive in there?” comes your voice from the other room. He groans in frustration. This is a spectacular disaster in the making, and he's sitting front and center for it.

He's made his own bed and now he has to lie in it.

“You can come in!” he yells back with a noticeable crack in his voice. Not a great start.

His heart skips a beat when he hears the door creak open and close. The rustling of clothes being taken off one by one, the sound of pants dropping on the tile floor, and the unmistakable click of a bra being unhooked.

The door to the shower slides, and he feels you enter the confined space. It's ridiculous how close you are to him; he can smell the sweat off your skin, the faded scent of your perfume. His cock gives a small twitch and he glares down at it in betrayal. ‘Not now!’

You don't say a word as you turn on the faucet, the old plumbing in the walls hissing slightly before water starts to pour down on the both of you. He's not usually one for the cold, but it's refreshing, washing away the feeling of stickiness on his skin. He hums under his breath in delight; maybe it'll actually just be an awkward but relaxing shower, in the end.

The temperature rises slowly but surely, from cool to tepid, tepid to lukewarm, and then… it stops. He waits a few more seconds, throwing a discreet glance behind him to find you haven't fully turned the faucet on the hot side.

“Could you… put it warmer?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“It's plenty warm enough as is,” you reply flatly.

Now you're lying just to go against him; it's barely any warmer than if he was bathing outside in the lake.

“Why would you even fight for the hot water if you're not gonna use it?” he mumbles.

You moan dramatically in complaint: “Fine, princess, I'll bump it up.”

He sees your hand reach for the faucet, grab it… and bring it less than a centimetre closer to the warm side.

“Seriously?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously, now start washing your greasy hair before there's no hot water left at all,” you scold him, like he's nothing more than a snivelling toddler, and not a man twice your size.

Alright, enough is enough.

“What are you-” you protest at his sudden movement, his bicep pressing up against your shoulder.

“I'm turning the hot water on so I don't die in here,” he snaps back, trying to get a feel for the faucet while still looking away from you for the sake of modesty.

“Absolutely not, stay on your side!” you admonish him angrily. You attempt to push him back, pointedly refusing to look in his direction as you blindly slap his arm away. “Wait, Jayce-”

It happens too fast for either of you to figure out what's happening. One minute you're back to back, a respectable distance from one another, and the next you've both slipped, his arms boxing you into the narrow side of the shower with your legs bumping together.

Your eyes are locked into his for a few long, painful seconds. Neither of you are moving. You're trapped in a precarious game of jenga, where you can't even see which parts can safely be removed without you collapsing on each other.

“Whatever you do,” you exhale slowly. “Don't look down.”

You visibly regret your words as soon as you say them; you must have forgotten it’s Jayce you’re talking to.

He immediately looks down.

You put an arm up over your chest with an indignant yelp, and he quickly defends himself:

“Why would you tell me to not look down? That's like saying ‘Don't think of an elephant’!”

You're staying silent, your lips into a tight line, but he's certain you're thinking of an elephant right now. He smiles boastfully and you shoot him a deadly glare, before looking away to the side. It's the first time he's ever seen that awkward little blush on your cheeks without the conversation being about Viktor. That's a win in his book.

“It's fine,” you repeat once more like a broken record, and it’s definitely more meant to reassure yourself than to keep up a pleasant conversation with him. “I'll just… squish back against the wall while you close your eyes, and I'll direct you back to the other side. No problem.”

You sound less convinced than he's ever heard you before. He must have succeeded in turning the faucet to the side during the whole debacle, because the water has grown noticeably warmer, clouds of steam starting to form in the air. The atmosphere inside the shower is shifting ever so slightly.

He doesn't want to move.

He doesn't want to close his eyes.

The colour of your cheeks has grown darker from the heat, your lips slightly parted around every audible respiration.

“Would you wanna stay like this… if it was with Viktor?” he asks breathlessly.

You look back at him with genuine confusion, and he's honestly just as surprised as you are.

“What?”

“I…” It's getting harder to think. All his blood is rushing south, leaving him dangerously light-headed. What is he saying? “I… asked if you'd stay like this if it wasn't me in the shower. If it was Viktor.”

Your frown deepens. Your eyebrows always do this cute little thing where one furrows just slightly more than the other, but he's never gotten to observe it from this close. He lets his thoughts travel into dangerous territory. Do you wear that same expression when you're on your knees, sucking some other guy off? Would you look like that for Viktor?

“I don't see how that's relevant,” you retort harshly, but your gaze is elusive. You can't hide from him, not when his face is merely inches away from yours.

“Humor me,” he requests again.

“Fine, yeah, I would! Are you happy now?” you snap, eyes locking back into his with fiery resentment.

You're embarrassed.

He's never seen you rattled like this before. The energy in the shower is electric, now, coursing through his veins like a drug. ‘There will never be another moment like this’, the voice in the back of his head provides, syrupy sweet. It’s without a doubt the worst idea he’s ever had in his life, but he can’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I could show you what he's into,” he almost whispers, the deafening sound of water hitting the ceramic flooring almost too loud for him to hear himself.

He knows that you've heard him with the way your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I mean, guys, we talk,” he explains, the words now coming out of him like the rambles of a madman. He’s in too deep to back out: it’s sink or swim. “About the stuff we like, the stuff we dream about. I could tell you what he's told me, and you can practice. On me.”

An eternity passes before you speak again, mouth just barely agape. But you're not yelling at him. You're not slapping him in the face. In fact, you're not even frowning; the expression you’re wearing is oddly vulnerable and open, like you're seeing him in a different light than you ever have before.

“You're fucking gross, Talis,” you breathe out slowly. “You really think I'm that easy?”

This*,* whatever this is, is so fragile he’s scared of shattering it by being too loud. Like he’s talking to a wild animal.

“I don't,” he promises in a low voice. “But I think you're smart, and dedicated, and you wouldn't let an opportunity to know something so personal about Viktor pass you by.”

The steam has fully blurred the glass panels around the both of you, and it feels like you're inside one of those snow globes Jayce's mother used to bring back for him from her travels when he was a kid. It's weirdly ethereal, warm and cold, frozen out of any known space and time. He’s never heard you stay silent this long, and the anticipation makes his throat burn.

“Fine,” you finally say. “But if you tell anyone-”

“Yeah I know, you'll cut my balls off,” he lets out with a small laugh, slightly delirious. He's half convinced he's dreaming. “Are we good?”

You nod without a word, shifting your head to the side slightly to avoid his gaze. He hesitantly brings a hand to your chin, holding it like you're made of glass. You don't recoil at his touch, so he gently presses it upwards, making you look at him again.

“Viktor likes it when people kiss him softly,” he smiles shyly, his heart beating as loudly in his chest as it did for his very first kiss. It’s like he’s watching a movie, like none of it is truly real. He closes the gap between the two of you slowly, waiting for you to pull away; but you don't. Your lips meet his, and it's everything he could have ever wanted.

You taste of rainwater and cherry chapstick. You’re soft in the way described by jazzy love songs, smooth and electric, a puzzle piece that just feels so unbelievably right. He wants to wrap his arms around you, hold you so tight this never has to come to an end, leave marks on your skin no shower could ever get rid of.

But he doesn't. He can't.

This is a fantasy that’s only animated by mutual gain. It’s not the climax of a romance film where the hero finally gets to kiss the heroine under the rain.

But God, does he want to pretend it is.

You pull away first, and he doesn't miss it: the millisecond where your eyes open and you look at him like he's the one you want to be kissing. The almost imperceptible moment where you're still imagining you're kissing Viktor and not him, where your irises shine brightly with so much happiness and love.

But it's already gone, like it never even happened, and you quickly wipe your lips with the back of your hand. You’re not in a beautiful London street amid a gentle downpour with your soulmate: you’re in a cramped shower in a motel, with a guy you don’t even vaguely care for.

“You should shave your stubble. It's annoying,” you mumble.

‘Viktor doesn't have one’, the sentence heavily implies. It stings, but he's not about to back off just from that either. Not when he's been given a chance like this.

“Viktor also likes it when kissing is a bit of a fight,” he adds, sounding much too eager and desperate for his own liking. “Biting, tugging hair, that kind of stuff.”

It's not a lie, per se; he's only ever seen Viktor kiss someone once, when they were undergrads. It was an end-of-semester party, and Viktor had had way too many vodka red bulls for a man of his stature and health. Jayce had found him on a couch, limbs entangled with a stranger who seemed equally as drunk, and absolutely devouring their face off.

Viktor had asked him to never let him near caffeinated cocktails again the next morning.

You look slightly skeptical, analyzing him for any signs of deception; it looks as though you find none, because you're the one who initiates this time, and there you are, the fiery woman he's fallen head over heels for.

You're going to war on him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, savagely shoving your tongue in his mouth, one hand entangled in the hair at the back of his head while the other ferociously holds his throat in place, nails digging into his heartbeat. He responds eagerly, letting you mistreat him, encouraging you with muffled groans.

It hurts, and he wants it to never end. He can taste blood in his mouth, the metallic tinge making him dizzy, and he's so hard he could cum if you just touched his dick with a finger. He whines pathetically when you break the kiss for air, disoriented, a strand of saliva connecting you both still.

“A-aouch,” he can only manage to say jokingly.

You lean back against the tile wall, slightly breathless; you wipe away drops of red on your lip, smudging them down towards your chin, the look of a feral animal in your pupils. He feels his already rock-hard cock twitch. Hot.

“This is about what Viktor likes, not what you like. Toughen up, Talis,” you spit back.

Before he has time to formulate a reply, you're back on him, and now he's incapable of stopping himself from humping your thigh like an animal. You don't refuse him or push him away, even mercifully angelling your hip to the side to give him easier access. There's nothing but you, all over him, inside of him, tearing him apart and putting him back together. It's absolutely pathetic, and he knows it, but he can feel his release arriving in the pit of his stomach. He's wanted this for so long, there's just no way to delay it anymore.

It only takes a few more seconds before his orgasm hits him hard, the wave of pleasure making his whole body still as a plank, while you're still sucking harshly the vein on the side of his neck. He cries out once, broken and wanton, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.

He comes down from the high in time to see the last of his cum painting your hip white before it gets washed away with the water. You detach yourself from him unceremoniously, putting some distance between your bodies with a frown.

“Did you just…?”

There's no room for pretending here. He's just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life from nothing but a fucking kiss from you. It's like he's a teenager all over again, face redder than a tomato and eyes escaping yours guiltily.

“You came. You came by just making out with me,” you repeat, visibly caught halfway between incredulity and mockery.

“I just haven't gotten laid in a while, that's it!” he justifies vehemently. He needs to change the topic quickly, or you’ll never let him live this down. “I'm always busy at the lab doing the paperwork you always skip out on!”

That thankfully seems to take your attention away from his premature accident; he's never been so grateful for your short temper.

“Seriously? You’re going to bring that up right now?” you bark, shoving him in the chest angrily.

He can still turn this around. He might not have much control over his first release, today ridiculously so, but he's been blessed with excellent stamina and a very short recovery period. Jayce is good at selling himself with speeches, and even though you're usually immune to anything that comes out of his mouth, he's willing to cheat this once and use the one chink in your armour he knows about.

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed,” he tempts you in a tone of indifference.

Your silence speaks volumes; he's got you again. Yes, it's incredibly manipulative, and when this is over he's going to spend hours turning over in his bed and despising himself. He’s always believed in doing things the fair way, the right way, and that one day he’d manage to lower your defences and etch a place into your heart all of his own merits.

But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

What kind of man does that make him?

That’s a thought he’ll just have to keep for later.

Taglist Darlings: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, @urfavlarry , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth

#jayce x reader #jayce x reader smut #jayce talis #arcane #arcane x reader smut #also...#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane smut #jayce fanfic #jayce x you #my writing #my fics #fruitforthoughts 💭

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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FML: Sealed

The plan was simple, if time consuming. Rent some apartments out, and wait. Of course, there were some preparation required. First, buy an old apartment building, something not too expensive and not too flashy. Make some small changes to the central air system and temperature control. Bring the whole thing up to code and install a beautiful, in building gym. Hire a team of savvy young women to help manage the apartments. Then, carefully and selectively rent out the one bed, one bath apartments to single, young men who showed promise. Some were just graduated 20-somethings, with a bright future ahead in STEM careers. Some were trust fund kids moving to the city for the first time, drawn to the quickly gentrifying downtown. Some were just personal pet projects that I wanted to see grow into their potential. Like this fellow:

I wanted to see what would happen on a bit more of a bear-ish body type. We set him up in Unit 514. Or this bro:

He was already pretty close to what we wanted our final results to look like. But I wanted to see how much we could push him. Unit 112, low and close to the gym. Good eye candy for some of the twinks we set up on the sixth floor. After about 3 months, every unit in the building had been filled, all eight floors. It was the first of June, around 4 a.m. when we had verified all residents were home. The overnight receptionist was sent home early for the day as upstairs, all door locks were remotely engaged, power was cut, and the new air conditioners kicked in. All subjects were sealed in their experiment chambers.

Slowly but surely, a thick fog billowed from each bedroom’s vents. It was a thick, sticky vapor, smelling like sandalwood and cool like peppermint. Subjects’ rooms were soon filled as they began breathing it in deeply. Some began to toss in their sleep, subconsciously fighting the mist, while others just huffed away and began the absorption process. One fellow on the second floor managed to toss himself awake, but was quickly sedated by an extra pump of vaporized melatonin added to his room.

As the men all settled down and opened up, the mist began absorbing into their bodies through any gap available: mouth, nose, pores, cocks, and asses. Within thirty minutes, the last of the gas has been administered, and all subjects were once more peacefully at rest. Bodies began twitching and pulsing as faint moans emitted from some of the smaller men’s mouths. The experiment had began.

The first to wake up in the morning was a subject in apartment 211. His transformation was among the more subtle. The lanky guy had put on a few pounds of muscle as his beard thickened and some hair grew in. He immediately began to sense something was off, as he felt his body and now bushy beard. He tried to check his phone. Dead. He gets up and tries to walk out into the apartment. Locked. A look of confusion sets in as he sits and tries to think of what to try next. That is when it catches him. With the power out and the sun rising, temperatures were rising. And as he began to sweat, he began to smell:

The gasses that seeped in last night were slowly beginning to seep back out, causing more radical changes. But this second exposure is different. It is coming from inside him, and carries his unique pheromones with it. This gas is heroin to him, designed to addict his body to its presence and slowly bring out the best in him. And as the smell fills his nostrils for a second time, he is fighting the urge to give in. Give into himself and what he is becoming. He knows that the smell is rancid, musky and earthy with notes of spice that burn his nostrils. But it is a lost cause. As he huffs away at his own funk, he glides his free hand down his chest, feeling thick, matted hair and slick abs. He takes a moment to feel his muscles twitching and stretching as his skin becomes sensitive to the touch. He wraps his sweaty, calloused hand around his cock, and begins to pump.

Once he begins to pleasure himself, there is very minimal risk of a reversal. The changes are rapid and extensive his body grows to match the smell that now saturates the air around him. Muscles swell, bones crack and reshape, feet stretch, and his eyes roll in the back of his head as he starts to drool. The fog settling into his brain leaves no room for inhibitions as he starts to self worships his pit, devouring his own sweat. Our scanners also begin to detect deterioration in brain activity. The pleasure center is growing, eating into non-essential regions like memory and comprehension. No part of the original subject is left unchanged as he continues to evolve into a sweaty, smelly, hairy beast of a man. And as he reaches climax, he lets out a deep roar as all inhibitions about his new form are shot out the swollen mushroom tip of his cock. He rolls his foreskin back up and shoves his filthy cock into a pair of sweatpants.

He stares at his body, flexing and feeling up his muscles. Experiment 211 has been a success, able to turn a scrawny nerd into a horny, sweaty, smelly gym bro with an insatiable need to fuck. Now we just need to test how powerful his sperm and scent are. He hears a click as his chamber is unlocked. We pulse the lights in the room with a code his mind will understand. He now knows his mission is to go over to Apartment 212 and begin round two of testing…

It is a bit later in the morning now and subjects all around are beginning to wake up and face their new reality. Through our camera network we watch as their transformations are slowly taking place, as muscle, fat, and fur are packed on and a cloud of musk begins to cloud the room.

And slowly as men finish their first rounds, their chambers are unsealed. They begin to wander and find their neighbors, mixing musks to help each other grow and change even more.

The experiment will run sealed off from the general public, at least until new subjects are needed to collect additional data points. Interested parties are encouraged to apply now to our waitlist. Otherwise, we expect to host an open house next month, with all subjects free to leave the complex and continue experimenting as they see fit. I can already tell that our friend we started with in Unit 514 will be popular.

Thank you for your time today. We expect to see you again very soon.

#male transformation #musk #straight to gay #jockification #reality change #jock #fml #mass tf #transformation

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mrpenguinpants · 8 months ago

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Ttorschlusspanik [ Commissioned ]

[ Hcs for Dottore where the reader is very sleepy/sleep-deprived and is constantly falling asleep in battle, on dates, or maybe during research and experiments! ]

Word Count: 4k

Ayato Ver: Pale Blue Slumber Semi Part 1: Low Battery Warning [Masterlist]

Thank you so much for commissioning me! You’re so sweet, and I truly appreciate the tip, but I can’t accept this level of generosity. Please let me know if I went under the word count. Also, thank you for your patience—I got really sick this week and am still recovering.

Torshlosspanik. noun. 1. A desperate feeling that something desired is fading, missing, or being taken away. 2. A feeling of frustration when something one has is departing.

A slumbering figure, a nearly empty desk, and foreboding fabric are the greeting signs to the infamous lab. It’s ironic, really. The concept that the Doctor’s domain comes with a “receptionist” setup stationed in front of imposing steel doors, giving the illusion that this place is as normal—and as morally sound—as any other doctor’s office. At best, it’s laughable to think anyone would believe this place accepts patients willingly, let alone frequently enough to require check-ins. Yet, a shabby but sturdy wooden desk stands innocently in the corner of the entrance, its chipping edges lined with plastic chrysanthemums and white lilies. The artificial flowers are faded, their colors dull from years of neglect, as if mocking the very notion of hospitality. Behind the desk sits an equally worn-down office chair, large enough for someone to curl up in. Its fabric is stained and frayed from years of misuse, the cushion lumpy and barely holding its shape but still useable. All for a receptionist, if you can call them that, who spends more time asleep than actually working as an employee in this most unlikely place. Legs curled up on the seat, arms crisscrossed over the knees in a fetal position. A chin tucked towards the chest, hidden from the view of passersby. Back facing toward prying eyes, leaving only the pronounced slouch of their spine visible, an angle practically begging to develop scoliosis. But the most harrowing detail isn’t the position. It’s the unmistakable black-and-white fur coat draped over them like a blanket, the fabric’s presence carrying an air of authority and fear. A coat only gifted to the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. The desk itself is of no help either. There’s no clipboard, no pens, no paper-nothing that could even remotely resemble the tools of an actual receptionist. It’s an empty stage prop, barely held together by the weight of its own absurdity. And yet, for all its flaws, it stands as the gateway to a place no one in their right mind would willingly step into.

No one dares attempt to wake you. Successfully doing so is practically a death sentence, especially if you go whining to Dottore about the unprompted “alarm clock.” He has a reputation for ensuring the offender never makes a sound again. The only ones bold enough to try and emerge unscathed are his fellow Harbingers, though even they tread lightly when it comes to disturbing your slumber. It’s both impressive and deeply concerning how much of a deep sleeper you are. The bustling footsteps of agents pacing outside the lab, their sharp voices discussing assignments, don’t stir you. The deafening clangs of machinery, coupled with the revolting squelches of severed monster parts being dissected, fail to trigger even a flicker of awareness. Not even Tartaglia’s incessant yammering, loud enough to make glass shudder, elicits so much as an irritated swat from you. Instead, you remain in a state of unyielding sleep, utterly detached from the chaos around you. Your peculiar habit has become such a fixture in the lab that the staff barely remember you exist. You sit perched at their entrance and exit, as still and silent as a gargoyle guarding a forgotten ruin. To them, you are little more than part of the backdrop. A slumbering figure whose presence is a curious mix of ominous and benign.

While it's obvious that the answer to rousing you is to find Dottore himself, or one of his segments if he isn’t around, the interesting part is how you wake up. You're not immune to the initial dizziness that comes with awakening. When you finally open your eyes, blinking the sleep away from your eyelashes, you’re always disoriented. Your eyes feel glazed over, as though you’ve gone blind from keeping them closed too long. Yet, there’s always a common theme: you always reach out toward the nearest blue object. Whether it's an odd trinket or a test tube of acidic liquid, your hand automatically tries to grab it and pull it close to you. It’s part of the reason your desk is stationed outside the lab, away from anything potentially dangerous hidden behind heavy steel doors. Artificial blue has been on the rise lately. Luckily, in nature, blue is very rare. Less than one in ten plants has blue flowers, and even fewer animals are blue. Unfortunately, the biggest nuisance has blue eyes—dead as they are. Tartaglia may not like the doctor, but he does like you. Maybe it’s because your sleep demeanor can be categorized as cute, or maybe you remind him of the simple life in an organization that’s so uptight. Regardless, that little fox has been clawing at the wooden legs yapping for attention. It's only made worse you don't bother to dissuade him, only indulging in his playful antics. It's led to many, many, lectures from one particular segment.

It's fascinating watching how each segment interacts with your sleepy demeanor. While each segment has varying features and appearances, under the same clothes and mask, they would be indistinguishable if they stood still and never spoke. The only true way to discern them is through their actions and mental processes. Hence, it's easy to tell who is who by the way they go about holding you.

Omega is by far the least attentive or affectionate toward you. Perhaps it’s because he’s the most selfish of them all. There’s still an ongoing debate over whether his dislike for you stems from the fact that you stand in the way of fulfilling his desires or if his ambitions extend beyond simply overtaking the divine gaze. Or perhaps the divine gaze isn't actually his goal in the first place. Either way, it’s two sides of the same coin. When it’s Omega’s turn to fetch you, he does so as if you were any other patient. Completely beneath him. One arm rests behind his back, while the other holds a piece of paper clenched tightly in his hand. His mouth is set in a firm line as he gazes down at your slumped form. Although the air around him is calm and silent, it doesn’t take a genius to know that if he could get away with it, he’d drag you through the halls by your hair. Alas, that kind of act would get him permanently disassembled, so he settles for unceremoniously flipping you upright. The arm resting on the small of his back is removed and curls under your stomach. With one swift motion, you’re treated like one of Signora’s shopping bags. The sight of a limp body folded in half under an arm that surely digs into the stomach is the best way to know if it’s the Omega segment or not.

Beta, on the other hand. Beta. That maniacal and neurotic freak adores you but couldn’t care less about you. His research typically focuses on fusing humans with machinery to create “better versions” of themselves, and he fully believes in that philosophy. You would look so much better if he were allowed to be your sole care provider. If your drowsiness were caused by a medical condition like heart disease, asthma, pain, or a nerve condition, he could simply replace them, and you’d be perfect. If it were a mental issue, well, he’d love you no matter how unresponsive you might be. It wouldn’t be much different from you being asleep anyway. When it’s Beta’s turn to fetch you, he does so with a waltz. He walks purposefully toward your desk. Loud and firm, his hands fisted at his sides with unrestrained glee, swinging in time with each step. Even with a mask that obscures most of his face, it’s clear to see the overexcited grin stretching across his lips. It’s almost like there’s static buzzing in time with his artificial heart, fuzzy yet electrically sharp. There’s no fanfare, as soon as he’s within arm’s reach, he grabs the nearest piece of skin and hauls you out of the chair. By some miracle, you’re always still asleep from the rough handling, which is more than enough for Beta to wrap his other arm around your waist. Your chests press together, and he swings your body to and fro in his mad dance. The sight of a limp body dragged into a dancing plague that’s surely pulling your stiff joints out of place is the best way to know if it’s Beta or not. Beta has been recently banned from coming within a six-foot radius around you.

The original Dottore, Zandik, is a unique case. All of the segments originated from him but at different points in time. However, they are still parts of his thoughts and mannerisms. There really is no order in which the segments are ranked, as they can’t compete with each other. What’s more pointless than trying to beat yourself? You’ll still lose in the end. Zandik is a strange mix of every segment yet none at all. When he wants to see you, he does so slowly, with all the time in the world. His methodical steps echo lightly on the concrete floors of the lab, his arms still at his sides yet loose enough that the slightest wind could blow them away. It’s as eerie as it is tranquil. Everything about the original whispers of restrained patience—that when he arrives at the front of your desk, he simply waits. Usually, it takes you hours or even days to wake up on your own, but when it’s Zandik standing at the edge of your daydream, your eyes slide open. Small ripples in the pond. You’re still lethargic, blindly feeling your way back into your body as your eyes ricochet off the walls until they land on blue. A weighted hand reaches out to grab that ashy blue, and another hand meets your fingertips.

It would be cute if it were anyone else. The sight of a man with curly light blue hair, carrying a bundled-up figure dressed in a white coat with a fluffy black collar, legs dangling from either side of his waist while his hands rest on the lump’s presumed back and thighs. It would be so cute indeed, if it were anyone else but Zandik. But for him, it only looks lonely, despite the two of you pressed together.

The moments when you're awake only happen on two occasions: either you just happened to wake up at that time, or it’s check-up day. What kind of doctor would Dottore be if he didn’t conduct physicals for his only patient who manages to live long enough each year? The check-ups happen twice a week, always two days apart. Never past two days of separation. Ever. Your exact relationship dynamic with Dottore remains as obscure as ever as to why he cares so much. Whether you’re old friends who knew each other before Dottore set foot in Snezhnaya or even when Dottore was called a different name. Or maybe a dead lover resurrected as a zombie in the pursuit of selfish greed and glorious progress; both are possible options. The zombie theory at least explains why you’re constantly drowsy. The staff have never seen you eat anything before, and with the abundance of... zombie food, it's not outlandish as much as it is disgusting. The old friend theory would explain why you can stomach being around someone who can fly off the handle at any moment. The most willing yet unwilling patient. No matter how often Dottore has to wrestle you upright, only for you to slump back asleep the next second, he never loses his temper. If he has to strap you into a straitjacket and hang you from the goddamn ceiling to keep you sitting with a straight back, he will. But by no means will he get anything more than slightly miffed. If he has to force-feed you your medicine because you’re too loopy to remember how to swallow, he’ll shove his fingers into the back of your throat with nothing but a blank smile. The only good thing about your sleep-deprived state is that you’re probably so out of it that you can’t feel discomfort. It saves on using the limited supply of anesthesia the lab carries.

Dottore, for lack of a better word, is displeased with your constant need for sleep. He is deeply frustrated with each check-in and the stagnation of your results. For him, bad results are no different from good ones—they’re still a means of moving forward. Something that will tell him which direction to take rather than wandering around aimlessly in the dark. But in your case, there are no significant changes, as if everything he’s done has been for nothing. He could have closed his eyes and spun a wheel for the same results. The day before your check-in is always the calm before the storm because the staff knows that when the next day comes, they’d better keep their heads down or risk losing them. No one is quite sure if your sleepiness stems from mutated genetics or if it’s a side effect of being around Dottore for too long. Stir-craziness and breakdowns are common in the lab, whether among "patients" or "employees." Everyone eventually goes mad, cooped up within the same cell-shaded walls and working under possibly the worst boss imaginable. Add to that the fact that the Fatui don’t believe in “mental health” days, and with no coping mechanisms in sight, it’s unfair to expect anyone to function effectively. Most people eventually devolve into screaming or manic episodes. Perhaps your escape is more literal. A peaceful retreat from reality through sleep. You’re not even sure why you’re constantly sleep-deprived, especially when you spend more time slumbering than awake. At first, you thought you might be narcoleptic or taking the wrong pills; a diagnosis from scratch must take a long time, right? That was until Dottore bluntly called you an idiot. He told you it’s a bad habit to self-diagnose every minor inconvenience. You should let him do all the thinking and simply listen to him. And truthfully, with the haze clouding your mind, it’s too difficult to think clearly anyway. So, you nod and do as you’re told. It’s easier that way.

It doesn’t happen often, but it occurs more than it should, considering who Dottore is and the reputation he holds. If you wish to cross him, you’d better make it count—because it’ll be your last. He’s in the middle of a meeting with Pantalone, arguing over the lab’s finances when a frantic knock interrupts. Apparently, there’s been a scuffle at the entrance of the lab. To Pantalone's knowledge, there aren't any guards or any agents stationed at the doors except for that sleepy receptionist. Perhaps the doctor's staff finally had enough and decided to take their anger on someone who couldn't fight back? Pantalone's not a good enough person to not find amusement in the situation, infinitely curious as to what Dottore's reaction will be to all of this. Whatever the banker decided to gamble on, his expression doesn't twitch as he follows behind his fellow Harbinger as they walk leisurely through the halls, as if the world has come to a standstill. It’s almost amusing that when your life is potentially on the line, he suddenly decides to take a midday stroll. The only indication of his amusement is the slight shake in his shoulders, hinting at a silent laugh. Dottore punches in the lock code and throws open the steel doors before the automatic switch can activate, slipping through as soon as the gap is wide enough. He stops at the shabby wooden desk that’s now gained a few new dents.

This time, you’re curled up on top of the table, your office chair thrown across the room. Broken. It’s no matter, he’s been meaning to replace it anyway. The chair is just another expense to add to his name. He collects you into his arms effortlessly, and you instinctively sink into the familiar hold. A quick scan from head to toe confirms that you’re unharmed, save for a few strands of hair out of place. Behind him, Pantalone lets out a noise of approval as he surveys the scene. In the center of the room stands a robot with a striking design. A star-shaped frame with six triangular segments forms a perfect symmetry. Glowing cyan cores illuminate the metallic structure, positioned at its center and edges. The intricate details combine sharp, crystalline elements with mechanical precision, radiating an aura of both elegance and menace. As expected of the Doctor. Pantalone can’t help but wonder where this machine was hiding when Signora ventured to Inazuma. Perhaps if it had been deployed then, she might have returned in one piece.

Although Dottore no longer needs to sleep to survive, there are times when, as he passes by your sleeping form, he’ll pause. He stands still, staring for what feels like an absurd amount of time, meticulously detailing and recording every breath you take within a single minute. It’s always 17. Sleep occupies about one-third of a person’s life, a significant portion of time that, in Dottore's mind, could be devoted to something useful. Something productive, instead of wasting it frolicking in dreams that neither matter nor will change anything. Yet, even he can’t deny that, occasionally, a break from reality can serve as a fragile bandage over a wound that refuses to heal. A fleeting comfort in an otherwise relentless existence.

It’s as awkward as it is unnatural. Despite his title as "The Doctor", his hands weren’t designed for gentle touches of flesh and bone. Yet he tries. His fingers twitch involuntarily as he tilts your body to the side, just enough for him to slide in beside you. Carefully, he rests your body against his shoulder. He expects you to jolt awake, his shoulder is bony and hardly a suitable place to rest your head, even when compared to the flaky cushion of the office chair you’ve somehow grown fond of. But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. You simply lay there, your head nestled against his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No protests, no shifting away, just stillness. The transfer of heat begins, as described by the laws of thermodynamics. Hotter, faster-moving molecules collide with cooler, slower ones, transferring energy in a quiet exchange. No fireworks, no blaring alarms, just the science of touch, as mundane and profound as ever. Zandik dares to lower his chin, letting it rest lightly against your head. His mask doesn’t obscure the quiet moment, though he can feel the unnatural curve of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. Down here, in the deepest layers of the lab, not even the howling winds of Tsaritsa’s snowstorm can reach. It’s eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like if you woke up now. If your half-lidded eyes would squint at him in confusion, or if you’d simply close them again, surrendering to the haze of sleep. But you don’t stir. Instead, he lets himself linger, suspended between an unusual warmth and the cold detachment of his own thoughts

"Breaks" are not something you can indulge in down in the labs. The closest the staff ever got was when one of the Harbingers passed away, and even then, it lasted only half a day before they were right back to work. Still, if you ask nicely, Dottore will nod toward an empty seat, silently giving you permission to make yourself comfortable. You take the opportunity to describe the dreams you’ve had while Dottore tinkers away in the background. You talk about a train whose tracks stretch far into the stars, far beyond the snow-obscured sky you glimpse through the scarce, frosted windows scattered about the lab. Sometimes, you dream of a whimsical city filled with cute shops and tiny bunny-like robots waddling through fissures in space. You’re certain he isn’t really paying attention, his hands busy with instruments, and his focus locked on his latest project. Sometimes, you suspect he forgets you’re even in the room despite your rambling. A small part of you wants to stamp your feet and pout like a child. After all, you’re only awake for a few fleeting hours each week, and even then, all he can think about is his experiments. His endless, obsessive tinkering. The man’s only "hobby" is experimentation, and you wonder if he’s even capable of entertaining anything else. At least Omega and Beta would give you some attention. Omega might tell you to be quiet with that dismissive tone of his, while Beta would enthusiastically scribble down every word you say, his excitement unnerving yet oddly gratifying. Still… your gaze drifts toward Zandik’s back as he works, the muscles beneath his coat shifting subtly with each precise movement. You pull your knees up against your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you rest your cheek against your folded arms. For a moment, you simply watch him in silence, the quiet hum of the lab filling the space between you. Eventually, your eyes grow heavy, and you let them slip shut. A faint smile tugs at your lips as you wonder where your dreams will take you this time. You wonder if Zandik would come with you.

On the rare occasion that Dottore chooses to sleep of his own will, most likely due to substances that induce drowsiness and force his body into a state of rest, it’s always a remarkably uneventful night. He doesn’t dream anymore, nor does he wish to. Dreams, like the past, serve no purpose to him now. On certain days, if he concentrates hard enough, he can faintly discern whispers from the other segments he's created. However, they are nothing more than distractions, a cacophony that only aggravates his already meticulous mind. When he wakes, it’s as though he hasn’t truly slept at all. His eyelids parted smoothly, his pupils sharp and alert as if no time had passed. Yet there is an unusual sensation, warmth. Dottore does not run warm, and the lab, built for functionality rather than comfort, certainly doesn’t harbor it either. He turns his head, curiosity fleeting, and finds you huddled against his side. Your arms are wrapped around his waist in a loose embrace, and your face is pressed against his chest, seeking solace in his stillness. The white coat with its black feathered collar, the one you wear more often than he does, is draped across your body, serving as a makeshift blanket. His hands remain clasped on his stomach, and he realizes with mild irritation that he can’t move without risking the possibility of waking you. For a moment, he lingers. The seconds on, and his mind races ahead to the tasks awaiting him. The pursuit of progress waits for no one, not even himself. Every moment spent lying in this bed feels like a year’s worth of lost discovery.

With calculated precision, he shifts. His movements are methodical, almost robotic, as he carefully bundles you in the coat, ensuring the hood doesn’t cover your face and obstruct your breathing. In a single fluid motion, he lifts you into his arms as he rises from the bed. He spares a brief glance at your sleeping form, red eyes devoid of emotion. Your breathing is steady at 17 breaths per minute—a rhythm he has memorized and measured countless times before. Still as serene as ever. But then, for just the faintest of moments, his gaze softens, almost imperceptibly, before he turns his attention back to the work that never ceases to call for him. What a peaceful way to escape the world, the thought as cold and clinical as his expression.

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Hi, thank you for reading! I'll reblog this with further writer notes but I wanted to include the research bits in order of appearance. I can't guarantee the full accuracy but I hope I didn't get anything wrong.

Chrysanthemum & Lily

In many Asian cultures, especially in China and Japan, chrysanthemums are symbolic of death and mourning. In China, the flower is closely linked to the Day of the Dead, and in Japan, it is used in funeral rites. While in some contexts chrysanthemums can symbolize longevity or fidelity, their association with death makes them unlucky in certain circumstances, especially when given as gifts or during celebrations.

Lilies, especially white lilies, are often associated with death and mourning, particularly in Christian symbolism, where they are linked to funerals and burials. While lilies also symbolize purity and rebirth in other contexts, their frequent appearance in funeral arrangements.

Head-Down Position

The sleep position reader takes is a parody of the Head-Down position of babies in their third trimester. The head-down position (cephalic presentation) is the most common and ideal position for birth, where the baby’s head is facing downward, towards the birth canal. This allows the baby to navigate the birth process more easily.

Dancing Plague

Also called the Dancing Mania, this refers to a series of events in the 16th century where groups of people, primarily in Europe, suddenly and uncontrollably began dancing for extended periods, sometimes for days or weeks, often to the point of exhaustion, injury, or even death. The most infamous and well-documented outbreak of the Dancing Plague occurred in 1518 in Strasbourg, then part of the Holy Roman Empire (modern-day France).

Algorithm of Semi-Intransient Matrix of Overseer Network

The robot Pantalone sees is the early concept art for ^ but also known as the "Tomb Guard of the Desert King.".

The number 17 is considered unlucky in Italy because of its association with the Latin word for 17, which is "XVII". Rearranging these Roman numerals gives the word "VIXI", which means "I have lived" or "I am dead" in Latin. This gives the number an ominous connotation, as it can be seen as a symbol of death or misfortune.

Honkai Star Rail & Zenless Zone Zero

Yes, reader was describing these two games as their dreams lol.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin dottore x reader #genshin impact dottore x reader #dottore x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagine #genshin dottore #genshin impact dottore #dottore #il dottore #dottore headcanons #commission

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savvyscribbleswriting · 16 days ago

Text

Pairing: Johnny Storm (as portrayed by Joseph Quinn) x fem!Reader

Summary: The Fantastic Four take a vacation to California for the Fourth of July. While there, Johnny sees some cute California girls and falls for one in particular – you.

Word Count: 8.7k

Genre: Fluff; Romance; Songfic

Additional Tags/Warnings: I’m going in blind with this one; nothing is set in stone with regards to plot/setting/characters/other; no use of (Y/N); Franklin Richards exists here; Galactus and the Silver Surfer do not exist (but how funny would that be?); H.E.R.B.I.E is also not here (he’s having a staycation in New York); story is set in the general 1960s (a.k.a. no specific year is mentioned); vague descriptions of the 1960s and California (I did minimal research. Apologies for any inaccuracies.)

Author’s Note: HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, EVERYONE!!! 🇺🇸🎇🎆❤️😁 Stay safe, enjoy the holiday, and enjoy my story!

P.S. I DO NOT OWN THE FANTASTIC FOUR OR ANYTHING ELSE MARVEL-RELATED, NOR DO I OWN THE BEACH BOYS OR ANY OF THEIR MUSIC!!!

Rest in Peace, Brian Wilson.

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The Fantastic Four knew they wanted to take a break during the week of July 4th. They also knew they wanted to get as far away from New York as they could for a while. The question was where they should go.

Reed suggested Washington because of its history and various museums.

Sue brought up Colorado because of its beautiful nature, especially the mountains.

Ben thought about Nevada because of Vegas. “Enough said,” he smirked.

It was Johnny’s choice that ultimately won. It was June, and he was cruising through the city listening to various summer songs when “California Girls” by the Beach Boys came on. Of course! he thought. He rushed home to pitch California to his family. It had its own beautiful nature for Sue, but instead of mountains to just climb aimlessly there’d be beaches to swim and play in, which was much more ideal for baby Franklin. There’d be equally fun things to do and see for Ben (‘Particularly the girls,’ Johnny added). And for Reed… well, Johnny thought that Reed needed to let go of any even remotely related to education for a while. “This time should be about kicking back, relaxing, and enjoying some summer fun, and California is the place to do it,” Johnny concluded.

A couple days before July officially started, they were all flying in the Fantasticar to California.

They decided to stay in Malibu because it was the most famous of all the cities close to the beach. Once they landed at their hotel, they got checked in and asked the receptionist what all there was to do. She recommended some nice gift shops and restaurants, and told them not to miss the big fireworks show that the beach was hosting the night of July 4th. The family quickly got settled in their hotel rooms and got changed into their swim gear. They wasted no time heading to the beach.

They managed to find a nice clearing and claimed it for themselves. Sue, Franklin, and even Reed went back and forth between making sand castles and dipping their toes in the water that was constantly coming and going. Ben and Johnny tossed a ball back and forth, getting progressively farther away from each other and throwing harder.

When it was his turn, Ben threw the ball so high and so far that it must’ve cleared a football field.

“Way to go, Ben!” Johnny yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

“You could’ve caught that, you baby!” Ben retorted. “You can fly!”

“That would mean I’d have to fire up! And there is no way I’m doing that in this weather!”

“Settle down, you two,” Sue warned, holding onto Franklin’s hand so he would’ve eat wet sand.

Johnny sighed. “Fine. I’ll see if I can find it.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Ben said, opting to lay down on his towel to catch some sun. Johnny shook his head at the rock man’s laziness before heading in the direction of the ball.

From what he could see and remember, it landed near a couple of big red umbrellas. He just started walking forward in the hopes of finding them. Luckily, there were some red umbrellas a few minutes out. Next to the umbrellas were a group of girls. One of them had long red hair and was wearing a floral bikini. Two of them were twins with the same short black hair, brown eyes, and yellow one-piece swimsuits, although one had stripes and the other polka dots. The last one - you - wore a solid blue bikini. You all were just talking and laughing as you tossed a ball back and forth. Johnny’s ball.

As he walked over, he began to hear parts of your conversation.

“After this, maybe we should get in the water,” you suggested, passing the ball to the redhead.

“But I don’t want to get my hair wet!” she cried, smoothing out her locks before tossing it to the striped twin.

“Plus, what if there’s sharks?!” she asked, holding the ball in her hands tightly.

“I don’t think sharks have the capacity to be so close to the shore,” the polka dot twin argued as she took the ball from her sister and tossed it back to you. You absentmindedly threw it back to the redhead.

“Hi, ladies!” he finally called out. You and your friends whipped around to him. “I believe you have my ball,” he continued. You all gave each other quizzical looks.

“Do we?” the redhead asked. She turned the ball around in her hands. “I don’t see your name on it. Do you see his name on it, Nora?”

“Nope,” stripes responded. “Do you see it, Dora?”

“No,” polka dots echoed. She turned to you. “Do you see his name?”

You merely shook your head.

Johnny cocked an eyebrow and held out his hand. “Well, it is my ball, so can I have it back?” he asked, turning on the charm.

The redhead, however, was not so easily swayed. “What’s the magic word?” she asked back in a sing-sing voice, twirling the ball teasingly.

“Rhonda,” you revealed her name in a warning tone.

Johnny just smiled, playing along. “Please?”

“Okay…” Rhonda began handing it over, then suddenly threw it to Nora. Rhonda laughed and motioned for you and the twins to spread out. Johnny stood dumbfounded for a second but quickly shook it off to get in the middle of your makeshift circle. He tried to grab the ball to no avail. Your friends were too quick and having way too much fun with this. They continued to laugh and tease him mercilessly.

Suddenly, Rhonda tossed the ball to you. Johnny was so concentrated on its whereabouts that he didn’t see you until it was too late. Once you came into his line of vision, he dug his heels in the sand in an effort to stop. Instead, he propelled forward and tackled you to the ground. You let out a mild scream as you fell back. At least Johnny had enough sense to hold his arms out so his whole upper body didn’t crush you.

When he opened his eyes, you were staring back at him. “Are you okay?” was the first thing out of Johnny’s mouth. You nodded vigorously, even though your eyes (wide with shock) and breathing (practically nonexistent) said otherwise. Johnny should’ve pulled himself up, given you some space, apologized profusely for crashing into you. He didn’t. He couldn’t because he was lost in studying your face.

Your eyes eventually returned to their normal size. You then got this look in them, as if you were studying him right back. You had such pretty eyes, Johnny thought. You also had soft-looking lips. Your cheeks were pink, either from being out in the sun or being underneath him.

The thought immediately brought him back to Earth. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, slowly moving away from you to get in a sitting position in the sand. You did the same, the ball still in your hands after everything.

“Here,” you gingerly handed it back to him. It was the first time Johnny took his time in taking it back. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my friends. They can be a bit… much sometimes.” You tried a smile. He returned the gesture and said, “It’s alright.”

You and Johnny had the same idea of sneaking a peek at your friends, all of whom were giving you two knowing looks. Embarrassed, you both jumped up to stand. Johnny squeezed the ball out of nervousness.

“Um… th-thanks for the ball,” he managed to get out. You nodded with a tight smile. Johnny cleared his throat and stuttered, “Uh, I better… better be getting back to… to… yeah.” He may have jogged back to his family, but he was kicking himself for his lack of confidence when it came to you.

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As soon as he was out of earshot, your friends surrounded you.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!?!” Rhonda squealed, shaking you rather violently.

“What?!” you asked, utterly confused.

“Do you know who that was?!”

“That was Johnny Storm!” Nora answered, holding onto your shoulder.

“The Human Torch!” Dora clarified, holding your other shoulder.

It finally clicked for you. You were looking at him so hard because you could’ve sworn you had seen him somewhere before. The blonde hair, blue eyes, an exposed torso that looked like the body of a Greek God. It looked like he stepped out of a magazine. Turns out, he was from a magazine. You remember seeing an advertisement for his fan club a while back. You never sent it in, but your friends had. Every time something new came in, they would gather and gossip and daydream while you just stood off to the side listening intently.

“He’s actually here!” Dora exclaimed.

“And he came over to us!” Nora matched her energy.

“Andyou just let him go!” Rhonda shook you again wildly.

You grabbed her arms in an effort to settle her down. “I’m sorry!” you cried. “I didn’t recognize him.”

“It’s not just that! You had him in the palm of your hand and then you dropped the ball, literally and figuratively!”

Dora sighed. “He was all over you! I’d be so jealous if I didn’t have my Paul back home.”

Nora gasped. “Could you imagine if you got to date the Johnny Storm?”

Dora gasped, too, the idea sending her into overdrive. “You’d be the envy of the whole world!”

“Not this again,” you groaned. You knew exactly where this conversation was heading and wanted no part of it. You broke away to sit back down on your towel. “You promised you’d stop trying to find me a boyfriend.”

Rhonda plopped next to you with Nora and Dora following her. “Come on,” Rhonda started, “you’re the only one of us who doesn’t have a boyfriend. You’ve got to start putting yourself out there.”

“Yeah!” Nora agreed. “You’ve got so much going for you.”

“You’re smart and pretty and fun,” Dora rattled off.

“Wasn’t this vacation supposed to be about us?” you asked.

“It is!” Rhonda insisted. “And we’ll have so much fun and do so many cool things… and if you find a pretty boy to be your future husband, that’s okay too.”

You rolled your eyes as Nora and Dora giggled. Rhonda caught you and sighed. “Okay. If not a boyfriend, can you please try and have a summer fling while we’re here?”

“Something you can brag about to the people at home,” Nora suggested.

“Something interesting you can tell your grandkids when you’re old and gray,” Dora said.

“And what could be more interesting than a summer fling with Johnny Storm?” Rhonda leaned in close and wriggled her eyebrows. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. These girls were going to be the death of you, unless Johnny got to you first. You highly doubted that, though. This was just a happy coincidence, one that you could easily brag about at home. Nothing more would probably happen, and that was fine by you.

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The next day, the Fantastic Four went into town to take in some sights. There were plenty of recognizable places to go to, but they were more interested in the smaller spots. For example, they went into this one shop that sold plenty of beautiful handmade goods.

Sue was minding her own business when she felt Franklin pulling away from her embrace. She tried to calm him down but noticed he was reaching for some pretty seashell bracelets on a stand nearby. She walked closer to pick one up. She observed how the shells were all the same shape and size, held together by a red and yellow band. Franklin smiled at it approvingly.

“You like that, huh?” she asked her baby boy, holding it out for him to feel and grab onto.

“Excellent choice!” the shopkeeper said. “Made from actual seashells.”

“Very nice,” Sue nodded.

“What’s that?” Reed asked, coming up to his wife from behind.

“Authentic seashell bracelets,” Sue explained. “I was thinking of getting it.”

“Why that color, though?” Johnny interjected, baseball cap in hand ready to purchase. “Why not get blue? It’s our color.” A lightbulb went off in his head. “Hey, what if we all got one? We’ll be matching!”

“We’re not BFFs at a sleepover, Johnny,” Ben said from across the shop, looking at some décor for his garden back home.

“You’re right. We’re a family, which will make them even more significant,” Johnny argued. “Plus, we need something actually Californian to remind us of this place.” He moved to the counter to talk to the shopkeeper. “Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to have any of these with a blue band?”

“We did,” he explained, “but we sold the last four to that group over there.”

Johnny turned in the direction the shopkeeper was pointing at. In the corner of the store stood a group of girls gushing over their bracelets while perusing some dresses. The group look so familiar to Johnny. As he looked on, it hit him.

It was the same group from yesterday. Your group.

And there you, were, looking intently at a particular dress, probably wondering if it would look good on you or not. In Johnny’s opinion, anything would look good on you. Your swimsuit from yesterday certainly caught his attention, one of the few reasons he wasn’t on top of his usual flirting game.

He managed to falter this time, too, because Nora looked at her watch and urgently ushered you all out of the store. Johnny thought he heard something about missing a movie. You were the last one out. Before you left, you took one more look at the dress before casting a glance in his direction. You did a double-take, your mouth hanging open once you recognized him. Johnny should’ve walked over to you, said hi, introduced himself, asked what you were up to, if he could see you again since you seemed to be in a rush, anything. Did he? No. Instead, he merely waved to you like an idiot. You waved back and flashed a bashful smile. Dora yelled for you to come along. You went back and forth between Johnny and your friends, ultimately choosing them but not before giving another wave in his direction. Johnny waved back, but at that point your back was turned.

Johnny twisted the baseball cap in his hands to deal with his nerves and frustration. What’s wrong with me? he wondered. When he turned around, all eyes, including Franklin’s, were on him.

“What?”

“What was that?” Reed asked.

“Who was that girl?” Sue followed.

“And what is up with you?” Ben concluded.

Johnny took a deep breath. “Okay. One, that was nothing. Two, I met her on the beach the other day. She and her friends had our ball. And three, I’m fine.” He managed to bypass his family and tried to distract himself with some toy cars. They were not having it.

“That didn’t seem like nothing,” Ben commented.

“And you don’t look fine,” Sue added.

“Yes, you look quite pink in the cheeks,” Reed observed, pointing at the blush that was indeed spreading on Johnny’s face.

“Shut up,” Johnny turned away and moved onto some bottles that had multicolored sand in them. His family still followed him.

“I don’t blame you for having a thing for her,” Ben said. “She’s kind of cute.”

“I don’t have a thing for her!” Johnny insisted. “I don’t even know her!”

“You could get to know her,” Reed suggested.

“How?”

“You could follow her,” Ben said.

“And have her think I’m a creep? Forget it. Besides, I don’t know which direction they went in. They’re long gone now. Now, can you all just drop it, please? I’m trying to look at these-” Johnny randomly pointed to a wall full of… “Beach paintings,” he finished.

He turned around to fully face the wall, hoping to ignore the looks Ben, Sue, and Reed were no doubt giving each other. After a moment, he could hear their footsteps moving in various directions. Finally, he thought. The longer he stood in place, the more he started to really take in the paintings. They were quite beautiful, showing the beach during the day and at night, with people and without, the presence either lively or calm. Johnny thought about how much more he could go to the beach before they went back home. He thought about maybe running into you. He thought about meeting you for lunch or dinner. He thought about talking with you and getting to know you more, where you’re from, what you liked, what you did for fun-

Oh, boy, Johnny realized. Maybe I do have a thing for her.

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Another beautiful day in California laid out before you. It was lunchtime, and you and your friends decided to splurge and try a semi-fancy restaurant. Of course, you all ordered not-so-fancy food. You, in particular, ordered a burger with nothing but the patty, cheese, bacon, and bun with a side of fries. When the food finally made it to the table, it all looked so delicious… except yours.

“Um, excuse me?” you said to the waiter just before he left. “I ordered my burger with no vegetables.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, quickly grabbing your plate. “I think this was for the table over there.”

You gave a quick smile and sipped your lemonade while you waited for your actual plate. You began looking around at the other tables out of boredom when you heard someone hissing. You tried to locate the noise and were met with another hiss and an arm grab from Rhonda.

“What?” you asked.

“Ssshhh!” she shushed you intensely.

“What?” you asked again, lowering your voice, totally confused.

“Look at who got your burger!” Rhonda squealed as quietly as possible so as not to cause a scene. You turned to Nora and Dora who enthusiastically pointed in the direction of a table that had a blonde woman, a dark-haired man, a baby that was presumably theirs, a huge man who seemed to be made entirely out of rock, and Johnny Storm.

The Fantastic Four were at the same restaurant as you and your friends. And Johnny Storm was eating the burger that had been placed in front of you moments ago.

Your jaw dropped in shock. Your friends were no better. They were practically peeing their pants. They started looking at you with great big puppy dog eyes. It dawned on you.

“No,” you stated firmly, taking another sip of your lemonade. When you looked to them again, they didn’t let up. “No,” you said again. No dice. You swore you saw tears forming in Nora and Dora’s eyes. Rhonda was biting her lip so hard it nearly drew blood. “A million times no,” you said with finality. You looked down and realized that at some point your burger finally got delivered and was to your liking. You took a big bite out of it to solidify your answer.

“PLEASE?!?!” all three of your friends said in annoying unison.

It was your turn to shush them. You waved your hands in an effort to calm everyone down to no avail.

“What are the odds of you running into him three times in less than a week?!” Dora asked.

“Slim to none!” Nora answered. “It’s luck!”

“It’s fate!” Dora argued.

“It’s perfect,” Rhonda concluded. “We’re going over there.”

She motioned for the other girls to get up. You were too late in realizing that they were grabbing you and dragging you over to the Fantastic Four. You tried to fight them but were not strong enough.

“What?! Didn’t you hear me?! I said no!”

“Yeah, but you’re being outvoted three to one,” Rhonda said, her smile getting wider the closer you all got to the table.

“We shouldn’t be interrupting their lunch!” you pointed out.

“We won’t be there for long! We’ll just go over there and introduce ourselves.”

“No big deal,” Nora said.

“Easy peasy,” Dora agreed.

You groaned and continued fighting them up until you made it to the table. Once you were in front of the superhero group, you tried to hide behind your friends. They held you in place, though, front and center.

Rhonda spoke first. “Hello! Are you the Fantastic Four?”

The family looked at each other nervously, wondering if they should reveal themselves. They then turned to you all and smiled politely.

“Yes, we are,” Sue answered.

Nora and Dora giggled at the admission but managed to keep it down to the bare minimum. Rhonda continued, “Well, first, we’re big fans of yours. We’ve seen you in some magazines and on TV.”

“Oh, thank you,” Reed said while feeding his son, Franklin.

“Secondly, our friend here,” she gestured to you, “met your brother the other day and felt bad about not properly introducing herself. So, we thought we’d come over and fix that real quick.”

And with that, all the girls finally let you go. You knew that they knew that you wouldn’t run out for fear of being rude. You really had no choice expect to put on a brave face, turn to Johnny, and state your name.

He just stared at you, burger in hand, eyes wide. You waited patiently for his response. Ben beat him to it.

“Johnny, don’t be rude. Get up and shake the pretty girl’s hand.”

Johnny shot daggers at the rock man, but ultimately did as he was told. He got up and extended hand to you. You hesitantly took it. It was so big and warm.

“Hi! It’s-“ Johnny started but quickly stopped once pieces of burger started flying out of his mouth. You took a step back, an awkward laugh escaping you and your friends. You heard Reed and Sue trying to hide a chuckle while Ben was chuckling openly. Johnny turned away for a second so he could finish swallowing his food before starting over. “It’s nice to meet you,” he finally said. “Properly, this time.”

“Yeah,” was all you could say.

You two stood in place holding hands for a considerably long time. But then you started to feel self-conscious about your hand possibly sweating, so you quickly removed it and stuck it in the pocket of your shorts.

“So… have you been enjoying California?” you were surprised to hear yourself asking.

“Definitely,” Johnny replied. “My family and I have been having a blast.”

“Good. Are you staying for the fireworks later this week?”

“We wouldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, us too. I’ve heard it’s an amazing show.” You offered a smile, which Johnny returned. No doubt your friends had Chesire-cat smiles at the fact that you had the Johnny Storm hooked again.

Just as quickly as you had him, however, you lost him.

Franklin started acting fussy, and you took it as a sign that you outstayed your welcome. “Well, we don’t want to disturb you anymore. We should be getting back to our lunch. It was nice seeing you again, Johnny, and the rest of you. Enjoy your time in California.” The family gave you polite nods but it was a blur to you as you made a beeline back to your table. Your friends shot you some disappointed looks but turned them around so they could leave the Fantastic Four on a good note.

You immediately dug into your food when you got back. You hoped if you stuffed your face, your friends would take the hint and not badger you over the interesting interaction you just had with the Human Torch. You should’ve known better.

Nora and Dora immediately bombarded you once they sat down next to you.

“You got to talk to Johnny Storm! Again!” Nora said.

“You got to touch Johnny Storm! Again!” Dora clarified.

“And he’s staying for the fireworks!”

“You’ve got to meet him again at the show!”

“No! Sooner!”

Your eyes darted back and forth between them. You eventually realized that Rhonda was missing. You looked back to the Fantastic Four table and saw her talking with Johnny. She nodded her head before casually waving everyone goodbye and making her way back. She managed to get the twins to quiet down with just her presence and a huge, sneaky grin on her face.

“I just asked if Johnny was going to be at the beach later today,” she explained, “and he said yes. So then I suggested that he meet us there to hang out and he said that he’ll be there at three o’clock.”

The eyes of Nora, Dora, and you got as big as the plates that held your food. Any other time, you all would probably be giddy with delight and freaking out over what to do, say, wear when later came. Instead, you all quickly tore into your food. You all knew the sooner you finished, the sooner later would come.

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Johnny didn’t know why he was checking his hair and swim trunks for the millionth time before leaving the hotel. He was just going to the beach. Then he would remember that you would be there and he’d check himself one more one more time. He did his best to ignore the smirks the others were giving him as he hurried out of the hotel.

All the way to the beach, he tried to calm himself down and pep himself up. He’d talked to plenty of girls before. This shouldn’t be so hard for him. He could do this… or at least he thought. But as soon he spotted your group lounging on the sand and noticed that you were wearing the same cute blue bikini from the other day, he knew he was in trouble.

He took his time getting over to you so that he could shake his nerves off again. When he was about five feet away, Rhonda spotted him.

“There he is!” she announced, making the twins and you turn your heads.

“Hi, Johnny!” Nora and Dora chimed together.

You just gave a shy wave hello to him. He returned it along with a “Ladies.”

“Thank you for joining us,” Rhonda said as she got up, grabbing her purse and towel, “but unfortunately, I just remembered that I promised to give my boyfriend a call around this time. He worries about me, poor guy. I’ve got to run now. Bye!” And with that, she was off.

Then Nora gasped. “Oh my gosh, Dora!” she exclaimed. “I just remembered that movie we wanted to see begins at 2:30! We should go now!”

“But didn’t we see it already?” Dora asked.

“Yes, but I want to see it again!” Nora yanked her sister up and collected everything before rushing off like Rhonda. On the way out, both girls managed a quick “Bye, Johnny!”

And then there was you, sitting dumbfounded on your beach towel. Johnny chuckled at the sight as he sat himself down next to you.

“Guess it’s just us,” he stated.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“For my friends. For them leaving and making you stuck with me.”

“Don’t be sorry. And don’t feel like I’m stuck with you. I want to be here with you.”

A faint blush came to your cheeks, along with a smile that gradually got bigger as you realized he wasn’t lying. Johnny thought it was adorable. His confidence coming back, he made himself comfortable and began asking about you.

You started with being born and raised in Sacramento.

You moved onto explaining how you met your friends after getting a job at a burger place.

You mentioned coming to Malibu for a bit of fun before starting some classes at a community college in the fall.

Johnny soaked up every piece of information as easily as he soaked up the sun’s rays. He was happy to finally get to know you.

At some point, you two went from lying in the sand to getting your feet wet in the water. As you walked, Johnny began opening up about himself.

He gushed about his family.

He bragged about his powers.

He spent more time, though, talking about what he liked to do outside of family and power stuff.

You paid just as much attention to the mundane as the extraordinary. Johnny appreciated that.

When the sun began to set, you two found some benches and decided to sit down and watch the horizon. It was really something.

“So,” you started up again, “why come to California for vacation?”

Johnny bit his lip. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

You felt comfortable enough to shove him playfully. “Try me.”

He sighed. “Okay. I was driving one day and the song ‘California Girls’ came on the radio.”

“Seriously?!” you gasped.

“I knew you were going to think it’s stupid!”

“No, no! I love that song! I love the Beach Boys!”

“Of course you’d say that!”

You shook your head, laughing. Johnny eventually joined in. Once you settled down, you asked, “So, is that the only reason you came to California? Because the Beach Boys told you to?”

“No,” Johnny said. “I thought it’d be fun for all of us. A real change of pace. And…” He stopped himself. He thought you wouldn’t catch it, but you did. You turned to him. “And what?”

“Um…” Johnny scratched his neck. Should he say it? What would you think? What would you do? He’d never know unless he went for it, so he did. “I wanted to see if California girls really were the cutest in the world.”

Your face was unreadable. Johnny waited patiently. He hoped his face read neutral to cover up the fact that his insides were screaming for a response.

Finally, you gave him one. “Are we?”

Johnny let out a deep sigh as he confirmed, “Without a doubt.”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or if you were moving closer to him. It wasn’t until your lips were on his that he realized he wasn’t imagining things. You were kissing him, and it felt amazing. Johnny gently cupped your cheek to keep you close. He let you go only so you could catch your breath before pulling you back in for more.

You stayed like that until a buzzing sound made you pull back from each other. Johnny recognized the buzzing the second time around as coming from his watch. He looked down and saw that it was a message from Sue. He clicked his teeth in disappointment.

“What is it?” you asked.

“It’s nothing,” Johnny said, then backtracked. “Well, not nothing. Nothing serious, I mean. No, I mean it is serious! It’s my family. They want me back for dinner.”

“Oh, I understand.” You got up from the bench and collected your things. “I better head back, too. The girls are probably worried about me.”

Johnny jumped up. “Can I walk you back?”

You accepted without hesitation. Johnny cheered on the inside at the thought of having a bit more time with you. You two continued talking about this and that as you made your journey back. You were surprised at how much you two had in common despite being from opposite ends of the map.

When you got closer to your hotel, you noticed a man passing out flyers for the club he was standing outside. They were having a dance on July 4th just before the fireworks show. The man went on and on about how there’d be drinks, food, and a live band playing some great summer tunes.

“That seems like fun,” you thought out loud.

“Do you want to go?” Johnny asked.

You turned to him like an excited child. “Really?!”

“Yeah! Why not? Like you said, it looks fun. Maybe we could do that and then go see the fireworks.”

“That’d be wonderful! Thank you!”

You were about to bound off back in the direction of the hotel, but were promptly stopped by Johnny.

“But can you promise me one thing?”

“What?”

He decided to take another gamble. “Can we see each other again before then?”

You answered with a confident “Definitely.”

Johnny was really lucky.

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You and Johnny met up twice before July 4th.

The first time, you two went to an arcade and played every game in the establishment before getting some ice cream. He taught you how to shoot a toy rifle, and you convinced him that it was okay to mix different ice cream flavors.

The second time, he accompanied you around town to help you pick out some souvenirs for your family. You passed by the shop where you got the seashell bracelets and were surprised to see that the dress you were eyeing was still there. You were even more surprised when Johnny bought it for you. “You need something new and beautiful for the dance,” he simply said. You felt bad about him leaving empty handed, though, so in exchange you got him a matching shirt that funnily enough looked like something the Beach Boys would wear. Any other time, Johnny would flat out refuse it. For you, however, he promised to cherish it and wear it at the dance.

Speaking of, when Johnny brought it up with the others the night of, Sue allowed him to go (‘Thanks, mom’) under two conditions:

That he make it back in time to watch the fireworks with the family.

That he take Ben with him.

“What?!” Johnny exclaimed. “Why?! I’m a grown man! I don’t need a chaperone!”

“I don’t want you getting too rowdy or drunk or whatever before the fireworks,” Sue explained.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Reed as he read his book because of course he managed to sneak a book on this trip.

“Yeah, you would say that,” Johnny mumbled under his breath.

“Come on, Johnny boy,” Ben teased, slapping the young man on the back without causing any injury. “You promised me some fun. And I promise not to embarrass you too much in front of your lady friend with my sweet dance moves.”

As Ben did some light-hearted cha-cha-cha-ing with Sue, Johnny groaned loudly. He had to remove himself from the room so he could wallow for a bit. He knew there’d be no way out of taking Ben with him. When Sue made up her mind, she held firm. All Johnny could do was pray that you didn’t mind a plus one and that you two could still cut loose at the club.

When he and Ben arrived later that night, they were lucky to get in because the place was packed. The band was in full swing and nearly everyone was dancing to the upbeat music. Johnny held his breath as he waited for you, not even taking up Ben’s offer for a drink. He only let it go when he saw you walk in. You took his breath away.

You looked like a vision in your new dress. It was short, hugged your curves in the right places, and had big enough straps to be modest while also showing a bit more skin than usual. Your hair was done just right and you seemed to be wearing comfortable shoes for all the dancing you planned to do.

You seemed to be holding your breath, as well, as your eyes scanned the room for him. When you finally found him, your face lit up and you waved to him happily. Johnny smiled at your cuteness. He smiled even more when he noticed your girls coming up behind you, also dolled up to the nines. Johnny should’ve known that they’d tag along. Honestly, he was glad. Maybe they could steal Ben’s attention long enough for Johnny to steal you away for some privacy.

You all made your way over to the two gentlemen, a few people parting to make room for the beauties that just entered. You stopped right in front Johnny.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hi,” Johnny echoed, enjoying the more up-close view of you. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You played with the collar of his new shirt.

“I know, right?” Ben smirked.

“Mr. Grimm,” you addressed him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ben, please,” he said, downing a bit more of his punch. “Yeah, Sue made me promise to keep an eye on this one.”

“Well, we’re here to keep an eye on our girl,” Rhonda said, moving next to Ben with a gleam in her eye.

“And to do some dancing,” Nora added.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been out dancing,” Dora stated, looking around in awe.

“Do you dance, Mr- I mean, Ben?” Rhonda asked.

“A little bit,” Ben answered.

“Then how about we get out on the floor and make some waves?”

The twins giggled and began leading Ben by each hand away from the sidelines and into the crowd. Rhonda followed the trio, giving you a sly wink as she passed. Johnny caught it, too, and couldn’t help but laugh along with you.

Johnny extended his hand. “Shall we?”

You graciously took it. “Of course.”

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You and Johnny twisted, tapped, spun around, held each other close.

You did it for one song and then another and then another.

Blood was pumping. Energy was at an all-time high. Smiles were ear to ear.

You were having the time of your life right here with Johnny.

All of a sudden, you stopped. You got this look on your face, like you just realized something. You started to feel sad, more than sad. Your smile slowly faded and was replaced by hot tears. You tried to pull yourself together but it was too much. You ran in the direction of the exit.

Johnny followed you, not caring where Ben or the girls were. He managed to catch you along the sidewalk before you ran too far. He grabbed you as gently as he could and nearly fell backward as you turned around and pulled him in for a hug. You buried your face in his neck, allowing your tears to fall. Johnny hugged you back as tightly as he could while whispering a few sweet reassurances into your ear.

It took a few minutes for your crying to dry up. You slowly pulled yourself away from Johnny and began cleaning up to the best of your abilities. “I’m sorry,” you hiccupped. “I hope I didn’t freak you out.”

“I mean, you kind of did,” Johnny admitted, “but it’s only because I’m worried about you. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You winced at the nickname, not because it was wrong but because it felt so right. It felt good, too good.

You took a few deep breaths before explaining yourself. “While we were dancing, I just found myself thinking about tonight and the past few days. They’ve been so wonderful and memorable. Then it hit me that after tonight, I’ll have to go back home and you’ll have to go back to New York. It just… it scared me.”

You stopped there. Dare you go on? Johnny tried to help you out. “Why are you scared?”

You made yourself look him in the eyes for this next part. “I like you, Johnny. Like, really like you. And please don’t think it’s because you’re the Human Torch. I like you for you. You’re so funny and charming and sweet. And I don’t know what it is, but I’ve found myself thinking about what it would be like if… if we were a couple. Like, going on regular dates and stuff like that. But we’ll be going our separate ways tomorrow. And because you’re so amazing and famous, you’ll probably find some other girl, or maybe a bunch of girls, to go on dates with. And I’ll just be here, alone, with this big hole in my heart. And just the thought of it hurts me. I’ve never felt like this before, with anyone. That’s why I’m scared.”

Johnny’s heart broke at your confession. When he went in to hug you again, it was just as much for him as it was for you. He pulled away quickly. He decided to confess a few things of his own before he chickened out.

“You say I’m amazing. So are you. You are one the kindest and prettiest girls I’ve ever met. And I’ve really enjoyed these last few days, too. I don’t want to forget them, or you. To be honest, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

“But what about when we leave?” you asked.

“This isn’t ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ sweetheart. No one is forbidding us from contacting each other after tonight. There are no laws against two people calling each other, or writing like they did in the old West, or traveling to see one another. I mean, you do remember that I’m the Human Torch. I can fly like the wind, and I would do it just to say hi to you.”

“You would?”

“In a heartbeat. This may sound crazy because I haven’t known you for very long, but I already know that I don’t want to lose you.”

You began to tear up again. Johnny got worried for a second until you suddenly pulled him in for a deep kiss. You were as happy as you could be. The realization made Johnny very happy and hold you tightly by your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling safe in his embrace.

You two weren’t that far from the club, which mean that you could hear the leader of the band say, “This one is for all the girls of this great, big state of ours!” You immediately recognized the beginning notes of “California Girls.” You whipped your heads around in shock, laughter erupting loudly.

“This song!” you exclaimed.

“I know!” Johnny said with the same energy. He turned back to you. “Shall we?”

You nodded your head as you took him by the hand and ran back inside.

You saw Ben and the girls looking around frantically for you both. You waved them down and joined them on the dance floor.

“Where have you been?” Rhonda asked. “We were looking all over for you two.”

“We just needed some fresh air,” Johnny responded.

Ben was a bit suspicious of that. “Now, Johnny, remember what Sue said. If you went out to do anything-“

“We didn’t! We swear!” Johnny went up to give Ben a great big kiss on the cheek before pulling him more towards the center of the room. “Now, come on! Let’s boogie!”

And so, you all danced away to “California Girls” by the Beach Boys. You and the girls sang along every now and then with the people who surrounded you. At one point, Johnny got close to your ear and began singing, too. You smiled and gave him a kiss for his good nature.

The song eventually came to an end and everyone applauded the band. “Thank you!” the leader responded. “Thank you so much! I should let you all know that the fireworks show will begin in about thirty minutes, so if you want to head down to the beach to see them, you better leave now.”

“Shoot! That’s right!” Nora said.

“The fireworks!” Dora followed.

“We can’t miss that,” Rhonda finished. She looked at you. “Are you coming with us or…”

“I was planning on going with Johnny,” you answered. “But… Johnny, is it okay if my friends join us?”

“I don’t mind. Ben?”

Ben turned to the three girls, all of whom were pleading with their best puppy eyes. “Um… I guess.

Johnny clapped his hands together. “Good enough! Let’s go!” He grabbed you by the hand and you ran out once more into the night, not bothering to wait on the others.

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“Where did Reed and Sue say they’d be again?” Johnny asked.

“They said they’d be near the entrance of the pier,” Ben replied. “They said we’d have a better chance of beating the crowds once the show is over that way.”

The boys and girls stopped running a while back and just walked to look around at all the people trying to find spots or getting comfortable in spots they’d already claimed. Johnny and you were still holding hands, taking in the night and excitement that lied ahead. Sure enough, when you all got to the pier, there were Reed, Sue, and baby Franklin standing close to the entrance. They waved you over.

“Good! You two made it,” Sue sighed. She then noticed you and your friends. “And you brought company.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Johnny said. He motioned to you. “I invited her to watch the fireworks with us, but she didn’t want to leave her friends out so they tagged along with us.”

“I hope it’s not too much trouble, Ms. Storm” you said nervously.

Thankfully, Sue smiled and said, “Not at all. We’re glad you could join us.” She looked to Reed, who gave his own smile. Franklin smiled, too, and that finally put you at ease.

You hung back while Johnny and Ben talked to the couple for a minute. As you joined your friends, you could see them squirming in their spots trying to contain their nerves at watching a fireworks show with the Fantastic Four. You shot them a pointed look to calm them down, which worked just a little bit.

You all got situated along the railing of the pier. You talked with your girls. They made small talk with the team. You held onto Johnny. It was only a matter of time until…

Suddenly, a huge alarm went off somewhere. Everyone became deadly silent. It was time.

The first firework shot off in the air and burst in a bright red color. Everyone erupted in applause and cheers. A couple more fireworks went off in yellow, eliciting the same response. Some smaller ones in pink made an appearance. One firework in purple seemed to be as big as a planet, garnering some gasps. You, Johnny, your friends, and the rest of the Fantastic Four looked up in total awe at the spectacle. It was everything you thought it’d be and more.

You felt like someone was watching you. Sure enough, Johnny was staring at you oh-so lovingly. You gave him a smile that seemed to match the brightness of the fireworks.

A look quickly crossed his face, like he just thought of something.

“What?” you asked.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He quickly ran off. You watched as he blended into the crowd until he disappeared completely.

“Where’s he going?” Reed called out.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. He just said he’d be right back.”

“Maybe he got scared of the loud noise and peed himself,” Ben joked, making Nora and Dora giggle. Sue shook her head as did you before turning back to watch the sky. Two red fireworks shot out in unison, seemingly creating a heart. You awed at the sight. If only Johnny hadn’t run off, you could’ve pointed it out to him.

“What’s that?” Rhonda asked, pointing to something glowing in the distance. You squinted to make out what it was. It was some sort of red or orange light. It started at the bottom before making its way up and around in the shape of… a heart. It was so big that it seemed to eclipse the fireworks still going on. The light then got in the middle of the heart and seemed to be creating the shape of the number four.

It all hit you like a ton of bricks. It was Johnny. He was making a heart just for you. It was so romantic, so thoughtful. You felt like you were going to cry all over again.

The family looked at you with knowing smiles. Rhonda, Nora, and Dora looked at you with a mix of happiness and jealousy. Everyone around you erupted into thunderous applause. They may have known it was a sign of the Fantastic Four, but they’d never know that it was specifically for you.

The symbol burned brightly for a few minutes before going out to make way for the rest of the fireworks. Johnny showed up a while later, a bit out of breath and with his clothes wrinkled (no doubt from where he threw them somewhere so he wouldn’t burn them to a crisp while in flight). He walked up to you and proudly slung an arm over your shoulder. Everyone in the group looked on, possibly wanting to say something, but decided to let you be to watch the rest of the show.

You got up close to Johnny’s ear and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Anything to make our last night in Malibu special, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

You gave him a gentle, lingering kiss as a reward for his kind words and big heart.

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The day finally came for you and your friends and Johnny and his family to go your separate ways. You all met near the Fantasticar just outside of Malibu. The girls said their goodbyes and thanked the family for their kindness. You and Johnny decided to have a more private moment to the side.

“Here’s my phone number and address,” Johnny held out a piece of paper.

“Here’s mine,” you held out your own. You put his in the pocket of your shorts as he put yours in the pocket of his shirt.

“Call me when you get back,” Johnny said.

“Why me?”

“Because we’re going in a super-powered flying car. We’ll probably make it to New York before you even make it halfway to Sacramento.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Smarty-Pants.”

“No, that’s Reed. You can call me Pretty Boy.”

“I prefer Beach Boy.”

“Ha ha,” he said, deadpanned. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him tight. He did the same, taking in your warmth and smell. “God, I’m going to miss you,” he said.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you said. “Labor Day is the next major holiday. Maybe we can see each other then?”

“I was thinking sooner than that, honestly,” Johnny admitted.

“Well I’m already thinking so far ahead. I always wanted to see New York in wintertime.”

“I can keep you warm on those cold, cold nights.” He rubbed your sides for emphasis which made you blush.

The sudden honking of the car horn scared you both. “Come on, Johnny!” Ben yelled. “Bus is leaving!”

“Alright! Alright!” Johnny yelled back. He turned to give you one final kiss… and then another one… and then another one. His actual final kiss to you was long, deep, and meaningful. You could still feel it on your lips after he told you goodbye and walked to the car.

Before the doors closed, you shouted, “Wait!” You ran as fast as you could to Johnny. You quickly took off your seashell bracelet and handed it to him. “Take this.”

“Are you sure?” he reached out for it, but only slightly in case you changed your mind.

“Yes,” you gently shoved it in his hand. “A little something to remember your California Girl by.”

He grinned at the idea and put it on his wrist on the spot. “I’ll never take it off. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You gave him another quick kiss before stepping back so the family could take off.

As the car started to gain some speed and then flew into the sky, you and your friends waved and called out goodbye. The family waved back at you. Johnny blew you a kiss that you returned. They were out of sight in a matter of minutes. You sighed deeply and felt your friends slowly coming towards you for a big group hug. You embraced them with a big smile on your face.

Johnny had his own smile as he looked down at your bracelet from the backseat of the car. While he appreciated you giving it to him, he thought it looked better on you. He decided he’d get you another one when he made his surprise visit to you in a couple weeks. What a gift from a New York Boy to his California Girl.

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Author’s Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: Thank you so much for making it to the end! I ask that you NOT post this story as your own, please. Instead, give it a like/review/bookmark/reblog/all of the above wherever you read it.

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