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rainrot4me · 8 months ago

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My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?�� She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look.

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.”

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it.

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another.

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them.

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before.

It really was surreal.

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.”

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume.

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below-

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it.

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked.

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you.

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus.

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently.

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?”

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks.

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him.

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers.

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you.

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling.

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full.

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?”

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on.

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

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beritybaker · 3 months ago

Text

Somebody To Kiss It Better 💖

Rating: T | Word Count: 2,561 | CW: Injury, Language | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Flirting, Post-Vecna | ao3 For @steddiesportsau week two. Prompt: Sports Injury.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“It’s not funny, Robin,” Steve grumbles.

“You’re right. It’s hilarious,” she says, leaning across the counter at Family Video to get a good look at the stupid mask strapped to his face.

He shoves her away. “My broken nose is hilarious?”

Clearly struggling to contain her giggles, Robin attempts a more serious expression. “Right. Okay. So it’s not funny you broke your nose. But you have to admit that the circumstances are a fucking riot.”

“What, that I tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my face?” He was thinking a better descriptor for his situation might be mortifying.

“That, and the fact that you face-planted because Eddie—”

“For the last time, Rob, stop trying. It’s never gonna happen,” he interrupts, though he can feel his face heating up under his nose guard.

She scoffs. “Only because you’re a huge wuss.” With a smirk, she goes on, “He’s into you, too. I bet if you went over to his place right now and told him what happened, he’d ask you out just because he feels bad.”

“I don’t want a pity date!” Steve snaps.

“It’s not a pity date if he’s wanted to do it since March.”

“I still don’t get why you’re so sure he likes me.”

“Uh, because I have eyes?” Robin snorts. “And Dustin said so, too—he told me Eddie keeps putting characters in his campaign that sound like super horned-up versions of you.”

“Yeah, well, Dustin doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Steve counters. He’s aware it’s a weak argument, considering the kid somehow managed to clock his crushes on both Robin and Eddie within a couple days of seeing him interact with either of them, but he’s not about to let Robin gain any ground in this discussion.

“Well, regardless…are you at least gonna admit to me that you were distracted, and that’s why you fell?”

Steve glares. “No, I’m not.” He doesn’t need to admit it; she knows the truth already. She just heard from his own mouth that he happened to look over and see Eddie, and that the next moment his legs tangled up under him and his face hit the court. He’d landed on his racket, too, bending it beyond repair and giving himself a nasty bruise on his hip.

He knows now that he shouldn’t have mentioned the detail about seeing Eddie, because Robin’s never going to let it go, and it’ll be added to her list of reasons he should just buck up and go for it (her own Vickie-based hypocrisy be damned). But what he’ll definitely, absolutely, never in his life admit is that what had really caught him off guard was Eddie in shorts.

It makes sense. Obviously he would be wearing shorts. It’s mid-July, and this week’s been a scorcher. But Steve is a simple man, with simple desires, and for months, one of those desires has been to see a little more skin from Eddie Munson. The fact that he happened to see it while he was playing tennis at the park with his dad was just unfortunate timing.

He’ll never forget that moment as long as he lives. It’s bound to be the most embarrassing thing that happens to him in his entire life, seared into his memory as a series of snapshots.

The hollow thwap of the ball against his racket as he returns the serve. His eyes instinctively darting to the parking lot at the short blast of a car horn. Doing a double-take as he recognizes a mop of hair and a brilliant smile a couple feet above a pair of denim cutoffs. And then…

Another thwap. A wide-eyed dive. A painful crunch.

The only blessing is that Eddie didn’t see it. He was ducking into Jeff’s car by the time Steve’s dad called out his name and rushed over. Eddie definitely didn’t hear it, because even if Steve isn’t about to agree that his crush is reciprocated, he knows by now that they’re good friends. If Eddie had noticed Steve wiping out and subsequently bleeding all over the place from a crooked nose, he would’ve sprinted right over, too.

“You’re impossible,” Robin scoffs, turning away from the counter to browse.

“And you’re annoying,” Steve counters. “Even on your day off, I can’t get away from you. Weren’t you and Nance supposed to have a sleepover?”

“I have to find something to watch! She needs an education, and she doesn’t have the privilege of getting one on the job.”

“So you’re holding her hostage now, too? And she’s not even getting paid for it?”

Robin makes a childish face at him. It’s one she knows he can’t return at the moment, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue. He just rolls his eyes and goes back to sorting returns.

That’s where they stay for a few minutes. Both of them are silently absorbed in their tasks, until the bell chimes to signal someone else entering the store.

Steve automatically looks up. And just like he did at the park, he does a double-take.

“Hey, Eddie,” Robin calls from the thriller section.

Steve glances her way. Her eyes meet his, and even seeing only the top of her head, he can tell that god-awful smirk is back.

“Hey, Buckley! Thought you were off tonight,” Eddie replies.

“I am. Just here for the goods,” she explains, raising a couple tapes and waving them where he can see. “And keeping Stevie company.”

“But of course. There’s no separating you two,” he chuckles. Then he turns to Steve and freezes at the sight of him. “Oh, damn. Holy shit.”

Steve tries not to close his eyes, forcing himself to meet Eddie’s concerned gaze. It adds insult to literal injury that he’s wearing those goddamn cutoffs again—and they show off even more thigh than Steve remembers.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Broke my nose,” he mutters.

“Holy shit,” Eddie repeats. “How?”

“Fell.”

“You…fell? That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it,” Steve says. He shoots a warning look at Robin when he hears a derisive snort. She disappears behind the shelf.

“Man, that blows. How long do you have to wear that thing on your face?”

Steve shrugs. “Couple weeks. Doctor wants to make sure nothing knocks my nose out of place while it heals.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Sorry, man.”

Don’t apologize, Steve thinks, biting back the actual words. It’s not like I fell because you didn’t measure the inseam before you took scissors to your old jeans, or that your legs are way more toned than I imagined they would be, or that I want you to throw me up against the wall like you did in Reefer Rick’s boathouse, or—

“So, what’s new?” Eddie asks, cutting through Steve’s thought spiral. “Other than the broken nose.”

Steve clears his throat. “Not much.”

“Same here,” Eddie sighs. He approaches the counter and slumps against it, leaning forward on his elbows. Pursing his lips, he goes on, “What time are you off? You wanna hang out later?”

“I’m closing.”

“Isn’t Wednesday usually Keith’s night?”

“He’s busy, apparently. Asked me to switch.”

Robin reappears at Eddie’s elbow. She puts a few tapes on the counter and says, “He’s got a date.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? Good for him.”

“Yeah. At least somebody around here can get one,” she jokes. Then, with a significant look, she adds, “Right, Steve?”

He glares back at her. “Yeah. Lucky guy.”

“I don’t understand how you’re free, Harrington,” Eddie muses. “You got more natural charm in your pinkie finger than I’ve ever seen from Keith. You should be taking somebody out every goddamn night.”

Robin snorts. “You should’ve seen him when we worked at Scoops. He was striking out left and right. It was so bad, I kept a running tally every day of how many girls rejected him. The record was twenty-two.”

This time, Steve is exasperated enough that he does close his eyes for a moment. He’s not sure what’s worse: Robin making pointed comments around Eddie or recounting past misadventures to him.

“Oh, there’s no way.” Eddie turns to him with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “You were striking out?”

“The hat covered up my best feature,” Steve huffs, vaguely gesturing at his own head.

“Oh, in that case,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. His smile remains, and it even softens after a moment. “Well, those girls didn’t know what they were missing.”

Steve’s lungs seize up. Once again, Robin catches his eye, her brows so high on her forehead they’ve disappeared behind her bangs. He narrows his eyes at her—a nonverbal warning to shut the fuck up—then turns to the computer to add her rentals to her account.

Out loud, he says, “I’ll take the hat over this damn thing.” He doesn’t have to point at his nose guard; he’s learned over the past few days that it’s the only thing anyone sees as long as he’s in the room.

Eddie tilts his head and shoots him a sympathetic grimace. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, it definitely is,” Steve says. His deadpan delivery draws a laugh from Eddie that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Look on the bright side. Wearing that thing should keep your face lookin’ as pretty as ever, right?”

“Oh my god,” Robin mumbles. It sounds involuntary.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, interpreting her frustrated outburst as some startled realization.

She confirms that she hadn’t meant to say anything by turning to Steve in a panic and stammering, “I’m…gonna be late! I said I would meet Nancy at six-thirty, and it’s almost”—she looks at her watch and deflates a little—“a quarter to six.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. He glances at Steve in clear is she okay? amusement, then says, “You got forty-five minutes, and you’re worried about being late? Where are you s’posed to meet her, Timbuktu?”

“Ah, no. Her house.” Robin lets out a nervous chuckle. “I just, uh…I have to pick up snacks, too! See you guys.” She’s already halfway out the door before the words are out of her mouth.

Eddie stares after her, looking bewildered. “What the hell was all that about?”

“No idea,” Steve lies.

There’s a quiet moment, where the only sound is the computer’s keyboard clacking under his fingertips. He figures Eddie must be lost in thought, because after spending enough time with him, he’s noticed that those are the only moments where Eddie stops talking—and sometimes not even then. Like with Robin, he finds it endearing. More than once, he’s caught himself grinning like an idiot as Eddie rambled about D&D classes or a Judas Priest album.

When Eddie does eventually speak, he says the last thing Steve expects. “You know, you kinda pull it off.”

Blinking rapidly, Steve looks up from the computer. He slowly turns to look at Eddie. “What?”

“The nose thing. It’s weirdly cute on you.” He sighs a laugh and shakes his head. “Listen to me. ’Course it is—you’re Steve Harrington. You could be wearing a goddamn bunny suit and you’d be able to make it work.”

Steve stares at him for another moment, at a loss for what to say. “Thank you?” he tries.

“It still sucks, though.” Eddie pauses. He’s leaning on the counter again, though now he has his hands splayed across it, fingers drumming idly. “Did they tell you how long it might take for the bruising to clear up, too?”

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, Steve stammers, “Uh, y-yeah. Few days, apparently.” He goes back to sorting tapes, desperate for something to distract him from the ongoing butterfly swarm in his stomach.

“Hm.” Another pause. “Think it’d heal faster if you had somebody to kiss it better?”

Steve fumbles with a small stack of tapes, dropping a couple. He has to take a deep breath to recover before he can lean down to retrieve them.

In that second, though, Eddie has already leapt over the counter. “Whoops! Allow me.” He squats and starts picking them up, and…

Holy mother of god.

This is too much. It’s too much for Steve to handle, having Eddie crouched on the floor in those fucking shorts, right in front of him, with his skin taut over his quads and the denim hugging his crotch, leaving very little to the imagination. All Steve can do is stare as his breath becomes hopelessly shallow.

Eddie doesn’t notice until he lifts his arm to hand the tapes over. When he does, his eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Whoa. Stevie. You doin’ alright?”

Steve swallows, trying to summon an answer.

“Um. Earth to Harrington,” Eddie says with an anxious smile. He waves the tapes across Steve’s field of vision. “You okay, man?”

“I saw you at the park,” Steve blurts. He isn’t sure why. The ER doc told him he didn’t have a concussion, but maybe his brain got a little banged around, after all.

Looking outright worried now, Eddie rises and sets aside the tapes.

“The other day. I was playing tennis with my dad at the park and I saw you.”

“Okay…”

“That’s why I fell and broke my nose.”

Eddie blinks and shakes his head in a startled little expression. “Okay, Stevie. You lost me.”

Finally, Steve has reached his breaking point. He whirls around and starts pacing away from Eddie, raising his hands to tangle in his own hair. “It’s those goddamn shorts.” He turns on his heel to face Eddie again, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why the hell do you have to wear those things?”

Eddie puts his hands up defensively. “What’s wrong with my shorts?”

“‘What’s wrong?’ You look too good in ’em, that’s what’s wrong!”

Instantly, Eddie’s confused look melts into one of total understanding. A gradual smirk stretches his lips. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you fell on your face…broke your nose…because you saw me walk by in shorts?”

“Yes,” Steve hisses.

Eddie lifts both his gaze and his hands to the sky, as if overcome with religious passion, and cries out, “Holy fucking shit, finally!”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘finally’?”

“Steve. Stevie. Harrington.” Eddie walks over and lowers his hands to rest on Steve’s shoulders. “I’ve been tryin’ to get you to admit to checking me out for weeks. Gonna be honest, I was starting to think your stubborn ass was never gonna cop to it.”

“You—what?”

“Christ. I was worried I was gonna have to break down and ask you out before you did.”

Steve stares for another moment before demanding, “Why the hell didn’t you?!”

Eddie falters. His smirk morphs into a sheepish grimace. “I, uh…I may have bet Henderson that I could hold out until you admitted it.”

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. But he’s smiling. “I’m gonna kill that little creep.”

“At least let him pay up first,” Eddie says. Then he clears his throat, which gets Steve to open his eyes. “That said, through…you free tomorrow night?”

Steve meets his gaze, skeptical. “You wanna take me out looking like this?”

Eddie giggles and nods. “Technically it’s my fault. I gotta make it up to you somehow.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie sports au event #platonic stobin #author stuff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn.

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy.

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match.

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me."

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes."

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh.

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them.

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places."

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm.

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first."

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?"

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess."

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys.

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through.

"How... er..." you think about it.

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that.

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you.

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?"

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength.

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he?

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory.

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn.

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...”

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now.

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs.

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare.

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so.

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer?

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.”

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend.

“A little, yeah. Work...”

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts.

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you.

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...”

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle.

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.”

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.”

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do.

“Table for two,” he says.

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.”

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench.

“Booth alright?”

“Sure is,” Steve answers.

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus.

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.”

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you.

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared.

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman.

“Red or white?” He asks.

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve.

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder.

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder.

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls.

“Sounds nice,” you nod.

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine.

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page.

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.”

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.”

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...”

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order.

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type.

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about?

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you.

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth.

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him.

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.”

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him.

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.”

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.”

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth.

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?”

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile.

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.”

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away.

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat.

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers.

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?”

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff.

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.”

“To... us.” You echo softly.

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer.

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.”

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle?

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.”

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.”

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt.

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...”

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much.

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.”

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel.

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.”

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #doing time #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers

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setmeatopthepyre · 2 months ago

Note

♠ for Bucktommy pls?

coming right up!

♠ One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/etc. [bucktommy | 944 words]

“Evan?”

Buck looked over his shoulder, caught sight of Tommy’s puzzled frown, gave the sauce another stir and then turned down the heat. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“What are you wearing?”

Buck glanced down at his apron. It was… just an apron. One of the aprons he usually wore when cooking. “An apron?”

“No, I mean-” Tommy stepped in close and Buck’s hands automatically drifted down to Tommy’s hips, settling there, warm and familiar, feeling the muscle below shift with each breath. Tommy’s hands came up and Buck leaned in, ready for those big hands to cradle his face, drag him into a kiss. Maybe this was some pick-up line from a movie Buck didn’t know and, honestly, he didn’t care as long as he got kisses out of it.

But Tommy didn’t kiss him. Instead, his fingers traced along Buck’s throat, sending goosebumps down his arms and spine, and that’s when Buck remembered.

“Oh! Right. I, uh, washed your flight suit? This was in the pocket and I didn’t want to forget where I put it-”

He fumbled the silver chain out from under the collar of his shirt, the tag dangling from it still skin-warm. Scrunching his chin down to look at the embossed letters, he wondered if they’d left their mirror-image mark on his skin, wondered if he’d been temporarily branded with Kinard, Thomas somewhere on his chest. He was tempted to check. “So, you’re O positive, huh?” he said instead, deciding that was probably a little less weird.

“Yep,” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’. He tapped the metal tag. “And now you know my Social Security number, too.”

“And that you’re, uh-” he angled the tag. “NO PREF? What's that?”

“No religious preference.”

“Why? I get blood type, but...”

“Same reason it’s got my name. In case I can’t tell them and arrangements need to be made.”

“Arrangements?” Then it dawned on Buck. Right. Oh. “Like-- Like for a funeral?” Just thinking about it made him want to grab hold of Tommy again and never let go.

“H-hm,” Tommy hummed, apparently not as bothered by the thought as Buck was, and that just wouldn’t do. Buck let the tag fall back against his chest to free up his hands so that he could tangle his fingers into Tommy’s shirt, his sides, pulling him closer. Tommy went easily, squirming just a little when Buck’s fingers traced over his ribs. “Menace,” he chided with a soft little smile.

“That’s me,” Buck grinned. Then glanced down again. “So you wear this when you’re flying? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t really wear it. Never did, honestly.” He frowned a little, thoughtful, and Buck wondered if this was one of those army things he didn’t want to talk about, but he seemed OK for now and Buck would happily take whatever Tommy facts he could get. After a moment of Tommy tracing his thumb over the letters of his name, he continued, “I laced them into my boots most of the time, back then. Don’t want the chain getting caught in anything when you’re doing maintenance.” He said it with a little what can you do?-shrug that felt like an understatement to the gruesome mental images Buck’s mind was helpfully conjuring up for him from a sprawling selection of calls. People got jewelry caught in spectacularly stupid ways sometimes.

“Yeah, makes sense,” Buck said, blinking away the memory of the guy with all the pendants who’d gotten himself stuck in a rotary saw. “And now?”

“I just keep it in my pocket,” Tommy says. “Right where you found it. Though I usually remember to take it out, too.”

“You also usually don’t wash your flight suits at home, so...”

“That’s a great point,” Tommy said, eyes scrunching at the way Buck knew his face was lighting up with the praise. He knew it was kind of stupid, but it was the way Tommy complimented him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, that really did it for him.

Still, a thought nagged at him.

“S-So you have it on you in case you, uh, crash?”

Tommy shrugged again. “No, it’s more of a…” He looked a little embarrassed, all of a sudden, and Buck was immediately intrigued. Tommy didn’t really get embarrassed much. He knew what he liked and what he wanted and if anything, he got defensive instead of embarrassed about his guilty pleasures if he felt like he was being judged. But this didn’t feel like that. Buck desperately wanted to know more. If he could, he'd open up Tommy's brain and examine every last cell of it under a microscope. But he couldn't, at least not in a way that would be at all good for anyone.

“More of a…?” he prompted instead.

Tommy sighed, met his eyes with an exasperated look. “I just figured, I survived the army with it on me, so, I might as well have it on me now.”

Buck grinned, absolutely delighted, and draped his arms over Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer still. “Kinard comma Thomas, are you telling me you have a good luck charm?”

“No. Maybe. Fine.” Tommy huffed a laugh and pulled him in by the waist. “What, jealous?”

Buck pulled back a little. “Why would I be jealous?”

Tommy wasted no time closing the distance, said into his ear, “Well, because that would mean you’re not my only good luck charm, Evan.”

Warmth bloomed in his face, across his chest, where the tag was pressed between them now, and Buck laughed.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous. I’d maim its ankles if it had any.”

#behold! the thing from the prompt actually happening in the thing I write this time!#thank you <3 this was fun #bucktommy fic #my writing #my fic #ask #emphasisonthehomo #tevan fic #911 fic #bucktommy ficlet #ask game #kinley fic

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strang3lov3 · 8 days ago

Text

Quiet Time

You cum too hard, causing a migraine. Dad takes care of you.

Tags - dad!tom, one shot, incest, smut, piv, creampie, blowjobs, migraine/headaches, comfort, fluff-adjacent (shut your fucking mouth), aftercare, whisper of piss kink? Idk. Tom is tmi at times. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS. 2.5k words

A/N - sweet and domestic dadcest for the tomwamb girlies. Here ya are :)

“Oh hey there,” Tom smiles from the kitchen island, greeting a sleepy you as you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Lucky Charms, always. That never changes. You join Tom where he sits and scoot your barstool closer to him, then rest your head against his bicep, sighing softly as you watch him scroll through the news on his iPad. Tom kisses your forehead, “Good morning, sunshine,” and sips on his coffee.

“Morning, Daddy.”

You sound tired, Tom thinks. But more than that - low energy, a little under the weather. He’s very attuned to these things, being your father. You have your moods here and there, sure, but this isn’t it. Tom knows this in the way you snuggle up to him, and how you ignore your breakfast. He scratches your scalp delicately.

“Hey, how about I make you something real to eat, hm? Cereal, you know - really more of a snack, huh? C’mon, how about some eggs, maybe some hash browns?” You shake your head, mumbling no thank you, Daddy. “How about just a little, honey. I don’t want you eating just sugar.”

You shrug noncommittally, pushing your bowl away to tell your dad that you’re not even really hungry for that. You didn’t realize until the food was in front of you how unappetizing it actually is. In fact, you think you’d puke if you ate even just a bite.

Tom frowns and looks down at you, then takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You feelin’ okay, sweetheart?” he asks, turning you from side to side. He’s so protective and concerned, holding the back of his hand against your forehead and your cheeks to measure your temperature. “Sick, maybe? Oh, I know. Are you on your–”

“Dad, please.”

“Just asking.” Tom smiles with his lips pressed together, and he chuckles through his nose. “Uh huh, I know. Your dad’s like, so embarrassing,” he jokes, exaggerating his tone, but his face falls when he sees he’s unable to tease even the smallest of giggles out of you. You just close your eyes, then rest your face in the palm of his hand. “What’s going on with you?”

“Just a little headache,” you answer, allowing yourself to pause for a moment in Dad’s large hand. His hand is warm and weathered, wrinkly. It’s the same loving hand you held when you learned to walk, the loving hand that never once hit you or spanked you when you were a child. With Tom, all you’ve ever known is love.

“Well, shit. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment ends when you wrap your hand around Dad’s wrist and pull his away from your face, then slide off your stool to throw away your uneaten cereal. Tom takes the bowl from you instead, then nudges you toward the living room with a hand on your lower back. “You’re gonna take it easy today then, I’m guessing? Wanna lay low with me? Hm?”

“I have to go clean my room and bathroom. Been putting it off,” you reply, heading for the other direction instead.

“You sure? Because I can do it for you, you know. In the case it absolutely has to get done today. I really don’t - don’t think all those chemicals are gonna help,” he laughs, hoping you’ll be persuaded by his argument. Tom frowns when you kiss him on the cheek, headed toward your room despite his offer.

Your headache will pass, surely. Besides - your messes are probably contributing to it. If you get this off your plate, you’ll feel better.

But the ache only worsens. Your head pounds as you vacuum your floors, and there’s a horrible pain right between your eyebrows when you spray disinfectant on your shower walls and bathroom sink. Inhaling all those harsh, citrus-scented chemicals. It’d probably help if you cracked a window. At least, that’s what your dad would tell you. And he’d be right.

You strip your bed and toss your sheets into the washer with a capful of detergent, then head back into the hallway to cross off more items on your agenda. You could do a little organizing, maybe. Get rid of some clothes you’ve been meaning to toss. And studying, you remember - you have to catch up on some studying. You walk while listing it all off in your head, accidentally bumping into Tom. You hadn’t even realized he was there.

“Woah, there. Watch where you’re walking,” Tom laughs, putting both of his hands on your shoulders. “How’s that headache, kiddo?”

“Mm. Still there,” you tell him.

Tom clicks his tongue, then pushes some hair out of your face. “Why don’t you come take a nap with me,” he urges, voice gentle. He’s disappointed when you shake your head and mumble something about having some studying to catch up on. You hug him tightly and he inhales the top of your head, and then you slide past him.

Tom gives you about forty-five minutes at the dinner table to study, but he doesn’t like this. You’re probably not studying very well or retaining much information with an achy head like that. After forty-five minutes is up, Tom approaches you from behind, looking at your mess of paper and books and your laptop with its brightness too high. You’re slouched, eyes rimmed with red as you look at the screen, then scribble something down.

He places both of his palms on your shoulders and pulls you back, fixing your posture. You stretch against him, head resting against his warm, soft belly. “Ohh, biiiig stretch,” Tom says as he takes your arms and pulls them back to help you along. “Head still hurting, honey?”

“Yep.”

And that’s Tom’s last straw. “Okay,” he says, leaning over you to shut your laptop. “Oooohhkay.”

“Dad!”

“Brain break. Let’s give your noggin a rest, huh?” Tom uses your papers to mark your place in your book, then shuts those, too.

“But I really have to–”

“Uh huh, yep. I know, honey. Ten minutes,” Tom says. “Can you give your old man ten minutes?”

“Okay,” you concede. “But ten minutes only.”

“Mhm, you bet.” Gently, Tom eases you out of your chair and shuffles you toward the living room. Tom lays you on the large sectional couch, then takes his place right next to you. Before he settles, though, he drapes an oversized plush blanket over both of yourselves. “C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you into his side. You wrap your arm around his middle and bury your face into his chest, inhaling deeply his warm, nostalgic scent. The deodorant he’s been wearing longer than you’ve been alive, and that clean and musky smell of his cologne.

Tom lets out a breath when your muscles relax and you sigh, melting into his strong and soft body. He gives you a squeeze, then tugs your shirt up. He rakes his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back, soothing you into relaxation. It’s not hard when the volume on the TV is barely audible, jumbled soft voices lulling you off. And what with that rainy weather outside, well. Tom guesses you’re not long for this world.

You throw your leg over his body, thigh resting on his crotch. You adjust a couple of times, accidentally arousing Tom. He lets out a soft groan when it happens, cock growing half-hard beneath you. Besides that, he ignores it.

But you can’t. You move your leg out of the way and eye his growing arousal, then tilt your face up to look at Tom, wordlessly asking if he’d like you to give him a hand with it.

Tom smiles sweetly and shakes his head. “Honey, honey. No. I don’t want to worry about it, okay?”

“But–”

“It’s fine, kiddo. Daddy’ll be alright. Just come lay with me.”

Tom presses your head back against his chest then pats you twice on the back, urging you to relax with him. And while he’s content to ignore his erection, you’re not.

You’re not sure what it is, honestly. Dad never pressures you into sex or urges you to take care of his needs. Really, he’s more interested in taking care of your own needs. But looking at his bulge, you can’t shake the feeling, the need - you want him inside you, telling you what a good girl you are, and how he loves you so much.

Tom looks confused as you sit up and peel the blanket off his body. You’re quicker than he can speak, undoing his pants and pulling out his thick, lengthy cock. You wrap your hand around the base, and his pubic hair is slightly more grown out than usual, more gray than ever. You settle between his thick thighs, eliciting groans from him as you kiss over his veiny shaft. You swirl your tongue around his head next, then take him into your mouth.

“Honey, honey, honey. N - your head, sweetie. You really shouldn’t be - ohhkay…” Tom trails off as you sink lower, hollowing your cheeks around him. You bring your head back up, pulling off of him with a pop, then take him back into your mouth, as far down as you can.

Tom fills your mouth entirely, cockhead hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as you bob up and down on his length. He groans your name so sweetly, with such love and adoration, then tangles his fingers in your hair. He scratches at your scalp, humming with his gorgeous blue eyes shut as you pleasure him.

All of the noises he makes and the way his cock twitches in your mouth sends excitement running through your veins and makes you clench around nothing. Without a word, you pull off of Tom and slide your pants and panties off, then straddle his legs.

“Hon, hon–” You reach down and line the head of his cock up with your entrance, then sink down, all that thick, hard length filling you so deeply. The snug fit makes you wince in pain, and pause for a moment to adjust. Tom tsks, “Okay, well - that’s why you’re supposed to let me warm you up, honey. You okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut. You do a little rock of your hips to get used to the intrusion, but as the pain between your thighs dissipates, the ache in your head is renewed.

Tom can see this. You’re a stubborn girl, too independent for your own good. And so eager to please, as well as being a daddy’s girl to match… Tom clicks his tongue and sighs. “Alright, alright, okay. Come down here. C’mon, princess.” He sits up and wraps his strong arms around your body, then pulls you tight against his chest. “Let’s take it easy.”

Tom rolls his hips, finding exactly the rhythm and pace that has the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot and hitting against your cervix. He rocks into you you nice and deeply, hoping a thorough fucking will knock you out. He chuckles to himself - his libido was about the same when he was your age.

You roll your hips to match, moaning into Tom’s ear. “Careful, honey,” he warns, holding you tight to slow you down. He can tell by the way you move and the sweet noises you make that you’re gonna cum hard, and he anticipates some tears to follow. Sweet girl, so tender when you cum on Dad’s cock.

Grinding into his pubic bone pushes you further towards release. You moan into Tom’s warm skin, and he keeps a consistent rhythm as he draws in and out of you. It’s a few more moments of steady fucking, and then there’s that tightening deep in your gut. “Dad, Dad, Dad,” you whimper, and his name turns to incoherent babbling and whimpering as you finally cum, walls rippling around Tom’s generous length. While whispering sweet encouragements and I love you’s, Tom fucks you through it, chasing his own orgasm in the process. He loves the way you moan louder when he comes, and the satisfied sigh when he fills you with his warm spend.

It doesn’t happen this time, though. Tom frowns in concern when he’s met with a whimper of pain instead, and yes, he knows the difference. It’s one of those skills that never leaves you when you’re a parent, differentiating between the noises your baby makes when she’s hungry or upset or just a little fussy. You’re in pain - it’s your head, no doubt about it.

“Ooh, c’mere, c’mere. Let me see, honey. That was a good one, huh?” Still inside you, Tom sits you both up. He takes your face between his hands and rubs his thumbs into your temples, soothing your ache as best he can, though he knows it’s mostly futile when you cry out. “Gosh, okay. Too good.”

Your eyes are squeezed shut, brows pinched together. Bobbing your head on his cock, rocking with his thrusts, and your intense orgasm made all the pain in your head that much worse. “Daddy,” you sniffle, voice weak and pathetic.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Oh jeez, honey. This is exactly why - fuck, sweetheart.” He pulls you close and hugs you tight, so sorry you’re aching in this way. He can’t help but feel partially responsible for it, in truth. Tom was always a little on the permissive side with you. To his and your credit, it never seemed to get either of you into much trouble. You were always well behaved, did good in school. Whatever you wanted, you got. Tom should have put his foot down this time. He knew better.

He helps you off of his body, careful not to move you too hard. “C’mon. Let’s go potty, sweetie.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” you mumble.

“Uh huh, well, I don’t want you getting a UTI on top of this, so - you know. Go, go on. I’m comin’ with.”

With his hands on your shoulders, Tom walks you to his bathroom. He rifles through his vanity mirror for his extra strength Tylenol as you sit on the toilet, your head in your hands. “Here,” he says, dropping the pills into your palm. He fills a Dixie cup with water from the sink next, “Drink.”

You flush the toilet and wash your hands, then hold onto Tom as he walks you back to the couch to nap for real this time. He draws the curtains, then heads to the kitchen to fill your water bottle. Tom brings it back to you, then tells you to drink. Ten big sips, he says.

“I just had water.”

“Mhm, yep. And you’re gonna have some more.”

You don’t argue. Tom joins you on the couch again, taking the same position he lay in before. “We can watch a movie now, Daddy.”

Tom reaches for the remote and shuts the TV off. “Nope. Think - think ya missed the boat on that one, sweetheart.”

“Just as background noise.”

“You don’t need noise, honey, you need to rest.” Tom shakes his head and puts a finger over your lips when you open your mouth to protest. “Shh, no more talking. Quiet time. C’mere,” he whispers, hushing you.

Tom alternates between rubbing your back and gently patting your ass, soothing you off to sleep as you listen to the steady drum of his heart beat. Poor kid, he thinks. He kisses your forehead, then pulls you tighter against his body.

Ty for reading 🥰 say hi if you enjoyed, reblog with some nice words, all that good stuff 🩷🩷

#tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #tom wambsgans x reader smut #tom wambsgans smut #succession fic #succession smut #succession #matthew macfadyen #dad!tom #cw incest

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squibsformers · 8 months ago

Text

Miscommunication

Rodimus x Human Reader, Drift x Ratchet x Human Reader

Summary: After Rodimus tried looping you into something you really weren't into, you sought out your other partners to complain about his reveal of character.

Word Count: 1,128

AN: NSFW suggestive talk, no outright smut. Also hi this is my first tf writing soooo lmk what your thoughts are, i love comments. I'm already working on a reader insert series and wanted to start with a few one off bits. Enjoy! tagging valveplug just in case.

[Pt. 2]

Drift looked up when you entered the medbay, his greeting dying on his glossa as his field just PINGED with the waves of displeasure coming off you.

“Jeez… what's got you all wound up, huh?” He straightened his backstuts as he stood up more from the desk he leaned over, messing with Ratchet temporarily set aside.

You hissed a rush of words under your breath as you strutted in, something that he couldn't TELL what was said but he understood it wasn't very polite. Even the older medic bot lifted his head to address you.

“I only managed to make out Rodimus in all that. What did our oh so brilliant captain do to piss you off?”

“I thought this whole time we were leading up to something… fun. But it turns out I misread every step. He thinks he's BETTER than me.”

“He's the captain, he is better than you.”

You whipped your head around to glare at Ratchet. “Better enough that I deserve to clean the dirt off his kibble with my tongue?? Because I feel that's pretty fucking degrading.”

Both bots stilled, and the medic's “Wait, what-” was interrupted by Drift stalling briefly and talking over him. “That doesn't sound at ALL like something Roddy would say.”

“I thought so, too.” You huffed before your attitude melted into something a bit sadder. “I mean… I've been flirting with him for so long, and he's been receptive towards it. You even told me he said he likes me. So I don't know where this came from…”

Groaning, you put your face in your hands, and idly Ratchet patted your back while working (and half listening).

“I didn't even think that would be a thing with you guys, making someone tongue-polish your like, plating and stuff.”

“That sounds like something Megatron would have had Starscream do back in the day,” Ratchet groused, making Drift mock gagging.

“I'm going to purge my tank, don't make me think about those two like that.” A shudder wracked the ex ‘con's frame. “Eugh. No it's not really a thing with us. Is…is it a human thing?”

“Ah…” The question made you pause to think. “Not… really? I mean, kind of. It's usually an extremely exaggerated form of punishment from someone who wants to uh… show superiority while demeaning the other. Though it's shoes or boots for us, not armor spikes. The idea is to polish the dirtiest article of clothing with their tongue - or glossa - so they feel... sub-human. Though there's always exceptions, and some people are into that kinda thing as like, a kink? But it's really not…what I'm looking for.” You wince.

….Ratchet paused his comforting as he listened, before turning to look you over. “Hold on, back up. Armor spikes… kid, what did Rodimus say to you?”

Drift leaned over the autobot's shoulder, studying you closely. The samurai looked both confused…and disbelieving.

Alright, fine then.

“He said ‘Y’know… Maybe you can put that glossa of yours to use and… clean my spikes with it.’” They let out a grumble. “I didn't peg him for the degrading type…”

The two mechs went oddly quiet and still.

“Spikes… plural?” Drift pressed.

You thought back more, mulling the memory over, of the captain of the Lost Light leering down at you with that heated smirk and his thumb on your cheek…and shook your head.

“No, sorry. Just spike.”

“PFFT-”

You looked up to see Drift looking away, one of his servos clamped over his intake as he cackled. His limbs shook and he held onto Ratchet to steady himself. The medic was looking away, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.

He was also laughing at you.

“What. WHAT! HEY?? HELLO!!”

“Kid…Kid, Sp..spike is another term we have for plug.” Ratchet mumbled out. Still laughing. Very much laughing at you. His words caused Drift to wheeze and bend over, his vents stuttering as he cackled.

“He was asking you to interface finally and you totally missed it..!! Oh Primus help me, what did you say? What did you say, tell me. Please, it has to be good.”

Your face got warm as you thought of the fact that you had finally gotten Rodimus interested enough he would make a bold pass. Your face was hot when you realized you had totally missed his signals. Your face was practically on fire when it clicked just how badly you fumbled the whole interaction.

“I… I said Ew, no thanks. And came here-”

“THAAAAHAHAATS THE WORST THING YOU C-COOOHOULD HAVE SAID!!! AAAHAHAGHA OH PRIMUS-”

“Frag me, kid you did not-”

There was no saving you. Both mechs were now openly laughing at your misery. Your face buried in your hands you mumbled out a weak “How was I supposed to know!” that only made Drift start losing it all over again.

After some time (Ten. Minutes.) the two much larger beings had settled, Ratchet returning to his work and chuckling on occasion while Drift…pestered you over your absolute dropping of the ball.

“I can't believe this. I'm almost scared to flirt with you now because you may not get it!”

“Driiiiift…!” You whined, the cheeky samurai squeezing your hips. “Let me go, I want to jettison myself out of the airlock.”

“Not a chance!! I mean I want to make sure if I tell you I wanna have you eat my valve from the back that you aren't going to mistake it for me, say, threatening to mug you or something.”

Your face was bright red. “Drift!!”

“Or, oh man, if I tell you I want to slot my plug between your thighs, maybe you'll think I'm wanting you to-”

“RATCHET! DRIFT IS BULLYING ME AGAIN!” Complaining loudly, you squirmed in Drift's hold while eyeing his Conjux, displeased and humiliated and hoping the medic would scold him or something.

Ratchet barely spared you a glance with his optics as he continued his inventory count. He was literally busy and not paying attention to you two.

“Between words from attractive mechs, manhandling, and something almost too big to go in, you enjoy being bullied, and all of us here are very aware of it,” drawled the grouch's response.

You stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock and WORSE embarrassment at how he called your bullshit out. All while Drift began cackling all over again.

—

You stared up at the habisuite door, staring at the imposing metal barrier of captain Rodimus Prime's personal chambers. Your stomach twisted in knots nervously, your palms somewhat sweaty as you raised a fist and knocked hard, twice. Mentally, you prepared your apology as you heard shuffling and the soft clank of pedes across a metal floor.

God, you hoped the mech thought stupid was hot.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #drift x reader #ratchet x reader #rodimus x reader #valveplug #tf x human #tf x reader #reader insert #squibs writes

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lacroixqueen · 10 months ago

Text

a little bit possessive (deadpool x reader) he gets jealous bc of your wolvie keychain

Summary: deadpool loves when you wear his merch. he gets possessive when he sees a wolverine keychain on your bag

Pairing: deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 941, very short one-shot

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, yandere, teasing, banter

Wade liked it when you wore his merch.

Like that big, oversized t-shirt you sometimes wore to lounge around on the couch and watch TV. It had his name and face plastered all over it.

Or the mini keychain you had of him hung around your lanyard.

And that little mini Deadpool action figure you tucked into the corner of your bookshelf, watching over you as you slept.

He even loved it when you incorporated subtle hints of him into your everyday wardrobe, like a red mini skirt or a black spiked choker.

It made him feel like you belonged to him. Like he owned you.

Until he saw you one day walking casually around the mall with a… was that a Wolverine charm dangling on your purse?

He followed closely behind you as you walked toward a nearby boba store, slightly annoyed by how loudly your heels clacked against the vinyl floor. But he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t staring at your ass in those booty shorts the entire time. Or your little waist in that ridiculous crop top..

Before you could turn in, he yanked you by that stupid Wolverine charm, pulling your purse and entire body towards him.

You gasped, almost stumbling over before instinctively grabbing his arm, steadying yourself and catching your breath.

“Wade?!” you cried, looking up into the vapid white ellipses that stared blankly at you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Who, me?” he asked with a fake ignorance, letting go of the Wolvie charm, causing you to stumble back a few steps. “Oh, I was just strolling around the neighborhood in search of a honey brown sugar milk tea when I just so happened to run into something even sweeter instead! It’s not like I have been following you intensely for the past couple of hours or anything. That would be extremely creepy and not something a good ally would do.”

“Uh huh,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “And what exactly do you want today?”

“Baby, you’re being so cold!” he whined, his fingertip instinctively twirling around a lock of your hair. “I just wanted to check in, see how life has been treating ya, that’s all. Why are you so suspicious all of a sudden?”

“You never just ‘check in’, Wade,” you countered, unconvinced. “You are always looking for something.”

“Well, now that my cover has been blown,” the assassin muttered as he snatched the Wolverine keychain again, yanking you even closer to him. “What the fuck is this?”

“You mean my Logan charm?” you said, grabbing it out of his hand. “Yeah, what about it?”

A flash of anger jolted through him the moment he heard you say ‘my’ and some other guy’s name in the same sentence.

“Your Logan charm?” he repeated, holding his stance. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I went to an arcade with friends and won it from a game,” you replied. “And also, I don’t have to explain anything to you. It’s none of your business.”

“Well why did you pick a Wolvie charm and not a me charm?” he pried, voice darkening as his hand rested on the curve of your waist. “I thought I was your favorite, Y/N.”

“Um, no you aren’t,” you snapped back, a blush slowly creeping over your cheeks as you felt him hold you so abruptly and so automatically. “I like lots of different heroes and lots of different characters, you’re just one of them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t mind if I did this,” he teased, unlatching the Wolverine charm from your purse strap and holding it over your head. “I’ll just take this, it’s all mine now thank you very much. Not that you would mind, of course. Since you have soooo many different heroes, right?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, standing up on your tippy toes and trying to reach as he dangled it over your head like a ball of yarn to a helpless kitten. “Give it back Wade, it’s mine!”

“Not until you admit it,” he smirked, taking a few steps back as you jumped up in an attempt to retrieve the charm.

“Admit what?” you cried, quite exasperated at this point.

“That I’m your favorite,” he said, smiling to himself since he knew he had already won.

“Fine, you’re my favorite,” you conceded with a twinge of sarcasm, extending your hand out. “Now can you please give it back.”

“Uh uh, I want you to say it with feeling,” he urged, trying to hold back his own laughter. “Like you actually mean it.”

“Okay, you’re my favorite Wade,” you capitulated. “Now can you hand him over?”

“Wait, really?!” he yelped out with glee. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, Wade,” you sighed.

“Like, you think it’s super sexy?” he pushed, dropping the Wolvie keychain back into your hand. “When I stabby stabby the bad guys? And baby knife ‘em in the neck? And shoot people in the face? That turns you on, right? Right?”

“Yes, Wade, it gets me so hot,” you said, rolling your eyes as you re-attached the Logan charm to your bag. “Now can you please leave me alone now?”

“Alright, but only if you promise to throw that thing away when you get home,” he bargained, ruffling up your hair into a tousled mess. “Okay, sweetheart?”

“Wade!” you yelped, but at the same time trying to stifle a giggle. You loved and hated when he was so possessive of you. But it also reminded you why you fell so hard for him in the first place.

#deadpool #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool x reader #wade wilson #deadpool x you #deadpool x y/n #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson smut #wade wilson x you #deadpool smut #marvel #marvel movies #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #marvel comics #mcu #logan howlett

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koiukiy-o · 3 months ago

Text

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 005. the barista.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 2k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: mini update :") this took so long yall but hopefully the next chapter will come out this weekend/early next week!! but @starglitterz cameo is officially here !! -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

You're still thinking about it.

Maybe that’s why your feet carry you here now, why your mind lingers too long on yesterday’s conversation—the recursion, the identity, the way Anaxagoras' voice dipped just slightly when he said neither walks away unchanged.

The café is the kind that always smells like burnt espresso and ambition, tucked just close enough to campus that it’s half library, half social hub. The walls are lined with faded flyers for long-past events, a community board pinned with everything from tutoring ads to desperate requests for lost calculators.

You step up to the counter, still half-lost.

"Next," a voice hums, smooth and patient.

You blink up.

You glance at the screen again, suddenly aware of the line that’s moved up behind you.

“Sorry,” you murmur, stepping closer to the counter. “Can I get a—”

You pause, eyes flicking to the chalkboard menu overhead.

“Medium oolong milk tea . No ice.”

She nods, tapping it into the register. “Anything else?”

You hesitate. “And… one of those—” You gesture towards the red bean bun in the pastry display.

As she bags it, she adds lightly, “Huh. Considering your usual habit of asking the kind of questions that make people reconsider the laws of physics mid-sip, that was surprisingly tame.”

You blink. “Huh?”

She gestures loosely, teasing. “Thought you’d be the type to hit me with a philosophical paradox disguised as a tea order.”

It clicks.

You straighten slightly, really looking at her now—the poised demeanor, the sharp gaze, the effortless way she dissects a thought before it’s fully formed. The girl from yesterday. The one who answered the question that left Ilias fumbling.

"Oh," you say, feeling somewhat slow. "You’re—"

"Kira," she supplies, tapping the register. "If we’re keeping track of names. Name for the order?"

You tell her.

Your eyes flicker to her apron, where her name tag is flipped backward on the strap. "You work here?"

Her gaze lifts, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "No, I just enjoy standing behind counters for fun."

You exhale a quiet laugh. "Right. Stupid question."

Kira shakes her head, sliding the receipt toward you. "Not stupid. Just distracted."

You blink at her, caught slightly off guard.

"Anyway," she continues lightly, "pay up and step aside. I’ll have your coffee ready in a minute."

You tap your card against the reader, hesitating just slightly before moving. "Well. Nice to, uh. Formally meet you."

"Likewise," she says, and this time, the smile reaches her eyes.

You linger near the pickup counter, the hum of the café settling into the background as you absently thumb through your notebook.

Then—

"[Name]!"

You glance up. Kira sets your cup on the counter, her fingers still lightly curled around the lid as she meets your gaze. You hesitate for a moment, fingers curled around the warm cup. The question lingers, half-formed—would it be weird to ask? Probably. But class starts soon, and if she’s heading there too...

As if on cue, the café door swings open, and another barista steps in, shaking off the cold. Kira glances over, nodding in quiet acknowledgment before turning toward the back.

You clear your throat, glancing at your watch, and then her. "Should you still be on shift? Or…"

Kira’s lips curve, the kind of smile that makes you think she saw the question coming before you even asked it.

"Not anymore," she answers, folding the fabric neatly before setting it down. She moves through the café like she’s a part of its rhythm, nodding to coworkers with the ease of someone who’s been here long enough to know all their quirks.

(You, on the other hand, still hesitate at the self-serve station, debating whether adding a third sugar packet is a cry for help.)

As Kira folds her apron, the new barista taps his ID on the register, the screen flickering to a “Shift Active” status. She steps back, stretching briefly before grabbing her bag from under the counter.

She raises an eyebrow at you. "My coworker is clocking in." Then, with a small, knowing smile—"And class starts in ten." she adds, tilting her head toward the door. "You coming?"

By the time you reach the lecture hall, the remnants of that conversation trail in the back of your mind, overlapping with the notes scrawled hastily in your notebook.

Just as the low hum of voices begins to settle, the amphitheater-style seating rising in clean, sweeping tiers around the central podium. The vast screen at the front remains dim for now and the blackboard is half-covered in chalk when you sit down—trailing equations, half-formed diagrams, the kind of thought process that seems obvious to the professor but makes students squint in collective confusion.

Kira lingers beside you, glancing at the mess of equations crammed into the margins as you flip your notes open.

"You wrote this after the lecture?" she asks, arching a brow.

"Yeah," you admit. "It was—kind of a lot to think about."

A small smirk, but not unkind. "Clearly."

You hesitate, then shift your notebook slightly toward her. "You want to compare?"

Kira’s eyes flicker to yours, then down to the pages, considering. Then, with an ease that shouldn’t surprise you anymore, she slides into the seat next to yours. "Sure."

She flips open her own notes, far neater than yours, and the two of you fall into quiet discussion.

You're so caught up in the exchange that you don’t even notice someone approaching until—

"Alright, I made it—!"

Ilias’ voice cuts in as he drops into the seat beside you, exhaling like he just ran across campus. "Man, you would not believe the morning I’ve had—"

Midway through slinging his bag onto the desk, he pauses, suddenly noticing the third presence.

His gaze flicks to Kira.

Then flicks back to you.

Then to Kira again, slower this time.

And then, with the smooth elegance of a man who has absolutely no idea what’s going on, he leans in slightly and mutters, "Uh–"

You stare at him.

Kira does not react.

"Ilias," you say, deadpan, "this is Kira."

Ilias blinks.

Kira, without looking up from your notes, simply says, "Hi."

There is a long beat of silence.

And then—

"Hi," Ilias says. Then, slightly louder, like the first one didn’t count: "Hi. Hi—yeah, hi.”

You look at Ilias. Ilias is staring at Kira like an idiot.

Eyes wide. Blinking. Lips parted ever so slightly.

You nudge him with your elbow, and he yelps, startled back to life. "Oh, right," he says quickly. "Hi—yeah, hi, um, sorry about—uh—dinner?"

Kira raises an eyebrow. "Dinner?"

Ilias turns red. "No—I mean— dinner–!? Wait, sorry, thats silly– Like, sorry about the, uh, you know—yesterday, the—thing, sorry about the thing."

She blinks at him.

And for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, Ilias actually blushes.

Blushes.

"No, really," he stammers, pushing through. "I— I think your—" His eyes flick over her, scrambling for words. "Your—uh, your penmanship is, um, really cool."

Kira smiles. "Penmanship?"

"Yeah! Yeah, your notes—super neat, I, uh, wish I could—" He gestures vaguely. "Do that. Y'know."

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Ilias visibly scrambles. "I—I mean, yeah, like. It’s so, uh, readable? And kind of… elegant?"

Kira’s eyebrows lift, eyes glinting with barely-contained amusement. "Are you complimenting my handwriting?"

Ilias looks like he wants to die. "I– I think so, yeah!"

You don’t even try to hold back a snort.

Kira, to her credit, just beams. "Well, thanks. I do take great pride in my ability to write legibly."

Ilias swallows, nodding a little too quickly. "Yeah! Right! Super important skill. Very… uh. Impressive."

Kira, unimpressed, tilts her head. "Uh-huh."

"What’s—what’s your pen made of?" he blurts. "It looks so—so smooth—"

He reaches forward, probably to touch the pen she’s holding.

She slaps his hand away, recoiling like he just committed a federal offense. "What the hell?"

"What?" Ilias blinks, confused. "What’d I do?"

Kira exhales sharply, a quiet laugh escaping before she shakes her head, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. Her eyes glimmer with something between amusement and pity, like she’s watching a cat repeatedly pounce at its own reflection.

"How," she says, voice warm with barely contained laughter, "are you so bad at this?"

Ilias freezes. Mouth opens. Closes. Then, finally, "I don’t—I mean—I just—what even are the—" He gestures vaguely between them, as if that might summon coherence. "Like, is there a—a protocol for this? Should I, uh— I—can I call you sometime or—"

You burst out laughing, loud and awkward.

Ilias swears out loud. Shoots you a disgruntled look.

Kira just shakes her head, amused, and goes back to her notes.

The lecture hall is quiet, save for the scratch of pens and the faint creak of wooden chairs shifting under the weight of their occupants. Afternoon light slants through high windows, casting long, golden streaks across the desks, catching in the curves of glass beakers left forgotten at the edges of the room.

Anaxagoras steps forward, movements precise, measured. His coat moves like the sweep of an ink brush, fluid but deliberate. When he speaks, his voice carries through the space—not loud, but effortless, as if the room itself leans in to listen.

"Before we begin today’s discussion, there is something you should be aware of."

A flicker of interest moves through the room. Kira glances up from where she’s been absently sketching in the margins of her notes. Ilias doesn’t move, but you can feel his attention sharpen beside you.

"An exclusive symposium will be held on the nature of consciousness and spiritual physics," Anaxagoras continues, his tone even. "It is a gathering of scholars at the forefront of these fields. Attendance is strictly by invitation."

His gaze moves, sweeping over the rows of students—and for a fraction of a second, it lingers on you.

Not obvious. Not lingering enough to be called staring. But deliberate. Expectant.

And then it’s gone, moving on without pause.

You straighten your back.

"I have been invited to attend," he continues, "and I have been granted the opportunity to extend that invitation.”

"A select number of students will be considered," he continues, "through an application process. This is not for those content with passive observation, but for those willing to question, to deconstruct, to think beyond the limits imposed by conventional academia."

You flick your pen idly against your notes, already half-dismissing it.

Kira, however, perks up beside you.

"Ohhh," she hums under her breath, just for you to hear. "That sounds kind of amazing."

Ilias, on your other side, leans in slightly. "Alright, so when are you applying?"

"I’m not."

There’s a pause. Then—“Wait. Seriously?”

You glance over to find Ilias actually looking at you, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "What?" you deadpan.

"I think you’re in denial," he counters. "You say this now, but two weeks from now, I’ll probably find you staring dramatically out a window thinking about it.”

Kira stifles a giggle, ducking her head.

"I just don’t think I would enjoy spending hours listening to a bunch of pompous academics talk in circles," you mutter, doodling absently in the margins of your notes.

"Right, because you hate talking in circles." Ilias snorts. "That’s totally not your favorite thing to do."

You swat at him without looking.

At the front, Anaxagoras continues, his voice smooth and steady as he moves seamlessly into the day’s lecture.

You let your pen trail lazily across the page, letting his voice turn into background noise.

This isn’t something you need to think about.

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @fellow-anime-weeb927 @beateater

#❅ — works !#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa #hsr anaxagoras #anaxagoras x reader

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greenxgloss · 3 months ago

Note

Can we get a bts fanboy headcanon?

BTS as Fanboys

themes: Idol!Reader, Gn!Reader, Fluff, angst

Gonna be completely honest im not sure if you wanted bts as fanboys or how bts interacts with their fanboys so I'm gonna do them as fanboys bc I feel like that's the more interesting of the two (I'm so so sorry if that's wrong in which case you can totally request it again and be more clear I would totally re-write it if I'm wrong)

Kim Seokjin

Jin definitely roasts other fans and claims to be a day 1 supporter.

"I literally knew them when they just posted covers online.

Jin buys all your merch, official and unofficial.

Jin spends hours watching fan-made edits of you.

Jin plays the Sims4 just to create you as a sim and then spoil your sim but forces it to write new music when you're on break/hiatus.

"Close enough. Welcome back, Y/N. When's the next album?"

Jin makes his own video compilations of your funny moments and then laughs at them for hours.

Proud of his obsession and talks about you when he doesn't know what else to talk about with new people.

Attends fan meets

Jin makes memes of the fandom's inside jokes

Min Yoongi

Yoongi buys all your albums (cd form, vinyl form etc.) just to have and collect

He writes fanfiction of you (series, one shots etc) mostly fluff but there is the occasional smutty fic, hyper erotic and juicy asf but still respectful.

He's secretly hugely infatuated but still keeps it subtle/ to himself

"Yeah their music is always in my playlists." with his usual kitten smile.

"Collaborating on something with them would be a huge accomplishment." Hed calmly reply to comments about you on weverse live.

Yoongi paints portraits of you/ makes tons of fan art but its not obvious that its fanart because he makes it look like regular everyday art.

Yoongi not only watches your interviews, he reads them, enjoying the articles far more than video interviews.

"they seem much more comfortable and open in the written interviews" hed say to himself

He's so delulu he learned all your rumoured favourite foods and how to cook them "just in case"

zones out thinking about the meanings behind your songs

Youre his celebrity crush

Yoongi doesn't attend fan meets or concerts because he a more lowkye/ private fan

just interact with the fandom

Jung heosok

Hobi writing remixes of your songs constantly

Hobi being the only one of the boys to actually be friends with you in real life

"can I get on a remix of your recent single?"

Gossiping with him about other idols

"did you hear about the scandal that group was in? they haven't even debuted yet." while tapping your hand before leaning back.

him still being a mega fan despite being friends with you

Having a yoongi and halsey dynamic

begging you to stream on weverse all the time just because he knows other fans want it just as bad.

"come on!! please just an hour. ill get you those cookies you really love.

reposting all your Instagram posts with sweet captions.

"bestie is looking so good!!!" with a ton of emojis

recreating your tiktok dances

also starts dance trends to your music and encourages people to jump on the trend

"I'll repost your video if you do this dance." big heart shaped smile.

Kim Namjoon

namjoon studies your lyrics, finds the double meanings and the word play

"reviews" and reacts to your music in YouTube videos

watches the countdown to your music being released on whatever platform (youtube, weverse etc.)

"supposedly the camera rig malfunctioned on set, that's why the camera is so shaky but they didn't re-shoot because it added to the windy scene" he'd say all jumpy and giddy like a kid on a sugar rush

has your autograph framed from the one and only time he met you

namjoon was very flustered and shy when he met you

"oh uh yeah I love your music and the double meanings in your last song."

gushes about the cinematography in your music videos

Namjoon writes questions he'd ask you if he got to interview you

Watches movies and tags you as characters that remind him of you

Park Jimin

Loves to let your music play while he's doing something and then harmonizes with your vocals

buys Vip tickets to all your events

posts your lyrics on social media

"this part omg!!!"

One time you smiled at him in the crowd and he freaked out and bragged about it for months

"they totally smiled at me last night"

"do you think they remember me from the fan meet last month?"

he's constantly talking with other fans

jimin makes bracelets with letter beads that spell your name or album names

jimin copies your makeup just because he thinks you're the picture of beauty purely in a view of admiration

he views you like greek statues.

"wow- their cheekbones-" he'd say in awh, face right up to the screen while he held a mirror and makeup brush in hands.

Kim Taehyung

requests your songs at parties and other events

begs the guys to do a cover of your songs on stage

name drops you in interviews and is always talking about you in his own interviews

has a huge crush on you and will say so proudly

"they're so pretty. Y/n if you see this, call me." with a sly smirk on his face, completely disregarding the uproar it would cause with army

Taehyung gets super shy when you say his name

Being shy despite being so confident when he talks about you in interviews

"uh- oh- the new song- yeah." while giggling

apologizing profusely when you tease him about the interviews when he comes to fan meets

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook would write a song about you that's how down bad he is

Posts on social media in hopes you see it

Kook argues with taehyung about thinking he'd treat you better given the chance

argues with jin about being a bigger fan

picks out his outfits to coordinate with yours

kook hopes to run into you at award shows

stalks your fanpages

reads yoongis fanfiction about you

probably is the more devoted fan among the other members

sings your songs all the time, in the car, shower, while cooking, etc.

the only one of the boys that talks to you confidently

"Your style is amazing, I take inspiration all the time." while standing up straight and s soft confident smile on his lips, eye contact unwavering.

but he would never admit that he's written and released songs about you

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

sorry this took so long i was trying to get all the requests in order! i hope these were up to par hcs are usually very rushed. if you'd like something more detailed or even full drabbles id totally be down to do that. if you wanna be tagged in future works to be notified when I've posted a fic please fill out the taglist form linked below along with the masterposts

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Taglist Form

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werewolfaday · 11 months ago

Note

Any good werewolf content? Like books or movies. I really love werewolves and I rarely see content of them online

oh gosh uh see i'm like in the same boat as you. it's very hard to find quality werewolf media that's not alpha male type smut or bad horror movies (though some of those are fun) or . teen wolf, which i have only watched a couple episodes of and cannot in good faith recommend

an american werewolf in london, ginger snaps, and dog soldiers are really good movies with very fun practical effects. one of my professors actually worked on the werewolves for dog soldiers! the howling is not a good movie but i kind of love it i can't lie. OH and you should watch the wolf man even though i don't love that movie; it's just really important to understand where the modern understanding of werewolves comes from! (edit: SOMEONE IN THE TAGS also mentioned van helsing and that movie sucks in such A Way but the werewolf designs ROCK!!!! all of the monster designs do. i have had a very specific vision of it where i make the main character a butch. maybe someday i'll draw that)

i have heard good things about the marvel miniseries werewolf by night but i haven't watched it. and if you do watch it pirate it bc fuck disney + marvel.

wolfwalkers is a really well-made and sweet animated movie i would solidly recommend to anyone. beautiful art style, great message, and a really fun interpretation of werewolves.

dungeon meshi has some fun lycanthrope stuff in some of the chapters!!

there's a comic i really love called "After Dark" (on Webtoon) and I have to admit I only have the time to see the creator's posts on instagram, which are snippets of the story. but I adore the art style and characters a lot. you can follow them on twitter here!

Night Class is another (mlm/werewolf) comic and I'll link its twitter here. Really dig the art style too!!

uhh but lemme recommend some of my favorite werewolf creators on tumblr too! because truly we are lacking in good lycan media and i would recommend more indie stuff to fill that niche in more interesting ways:

@gorgynei

@nataliedecorsair

@wolfskulljack-art

@senkkei

@piskikone

@kinerxy

@trashasaurusrex

@blackbackedjackal!

lastly i'm gonna link a pdf of my favorite medieval poem, Bisclavret!! it's about a king and his werewolf.

#star's asks #werewolf stuff #anons #it's so funny looking through the werewolf art tag bc a lot of it on tumblr is mine + my work is so much more colorful compared to #the traditional werewolf stuff. whoops gkgdjh i didnt realize i liked bright blues and pinks that much

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i-get-obsessed-fast · 4 months ago

Text

Breach pt. II | Criminal Minds

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. Spencer Reid xBAU! Reader .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Pt. I

Summary: Where Reader gets kidnapped with Aaron Hotchner and forced to do things that puts them in an uncomfortable position, and Dr. Spencer Reid is determined to help reader get back to a new normal.

A/N: this is my first time writing for CM I'm in the early seasons so l'm not too familiar with these characters yet but thought of this plot. I also am not familiar with tumbler so Please leave any suggestions! I am trying my best thank you!! Semi-proof read!| kind of a long chapter, sorry for the wait! Let me know what you think pls!!

Tags: un-established relationship, early season Reid, newly divorced Hotchner, mentions of SA, mentions of drug abuse, kidnapping, and death <- [warnings]

It’s been three weeks since you and the BAU team returned to Quantico after the kidnapping, but only two since you took leave at Aaron Hotchners request

Now the night before your return back to work you sat on your living room floor with a glass of wine by your side and sticky notes

“Pros” and “cons”

There were so many pros: The people that had become your new found family, Dream job, and being able to help families looking for answers.

You did so much to get to where you are so why were you so willing to throw it all away?

There weren't many downsides, aside from the high risk of getting shot, or the possible kidnappings—but you knew those were all possibilities when you joined the team. You just never thought it would've happened to you, especially so early on in your career.

You threw your head back and shut your eyes trying your best to not let the tears roll down your face

You didn’t want to leave. You knew that, but the truth was you were scared to go back. Scared to take on another case. You loved your job, but you couldn't be a profiler if you were afraid of it.

For the past two weeks you've been home mentally recovering you never thought it would lead to you questioning whether you wanted to go back. Especially since you never wanted to leave in the first place you just didn't want to argue with Hotch but looking back you realized how badly you needed to get out of there you were sinking…

~ 3 weeks prior ~

You walked into the bullpen with your head down trying to go unnoticed as you made your way to your desk. It was the first day back in Quantico and everyone on the floor was well aware of what happened back in Phoenix.

You were running on two hours of sleep, the dark circles around your eyes bleeding through your makeup, you look rough.

“Crazy morning huh?” Morgan asked as he looked at you smiling “um yeah.” you kept it short and focused your attention on your computer just wanting to hurry up and file your papers for the day

He didn't say much after that. As the day went on the change in your behavior had become clear to everyone. Your silence, staying at your desk, and the uneasy look on your face.

“Hey, you alright?” Spencer asked as he stood in front of your working area, you looked up at him and back to your computer “I’m good.” You assured him

He furrowed his eyebrows and sucked in his lips “right… well JJ, Emily, Derek, Penelope, and I were planning on heading out for lunch if you’d like to join us. It’s this new restaurant down the street.” Reid told you hoping you’d take him up on his offer

“Uh no I think I’m sitting this one out, I packed lunch. Have fun though.” You tell him as you stood up from your desk and walked off

“We’d really love it if you joined.” He continued as he followed you to wherever you were going “Reid, are you going to follow me into the restroom?” You question as you stopped by the woman’s door

“Oh uh no.” He nervously said “go to lunch without me, have fun okay?” You say giving him a small smile as you entered the restroom

Once you were done with your business you seen the floor was a bit more empty seemed like everyone wanted to go out for lunch today

You made your way to the lunch room and opened up the fridge grabbing your bag “So where are we eating at today?” Reid asked, you turned around quickly not expecting him to be there

“Jeez Reid, you scared me.” You scold him “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He tells you with serious guilt in his voice “it’s fine.” You walk towards the door but stop before fully exiting

“I’m eating in my car, if you’d like to join.” You say turning back to look at him, a smile quickly appeared on his face “Yeah, of course.”

The both of you made your way to your vehicle and set up your lunches, there was no conversation at first just the sound of faint music playing in the background

Dreams by The Cranberries

You ate your food trying your best not to be messy since you had company but he made you nervous especially with him staring intently at you

“Why are you staring?” You ask finally getting bothered enough by it to confront him “Don’t be profiling me.” You warned “no, I’m not.” He says “I’m just wondering about you.”

You give him a confused expression and put your fork into your bowl turning your whole body to give him your full attention so he can continue

“You’ve just been distant today.” He tells, he looked genuinely concerned

A sigh left your mouth “I’m not being distant. I’m with you.” You say and look out your window for a split second “only because I’m not letting you.” He matter of factly says “the others, they want to help you. They’re just scared.”

“I don’t need help, im an adult I’m capable of taking care of myself. Thank you though.” You state and go back to eating your food

He paused for a moment processing your words

“I know you’re capable. It just wouldn’t hurt to receive support. You know, statistically people who accept help recover faster from traumatic events. That’s not me saying you can’t handle this it’s just me reminding you that you don’t have to do it alone.” He explains as he stares deeply into your eyes

You bit your lip and nodded “Thank you Spencer.” he smiled and gently squeezed your hand, you weren’t prepared for his sudden touch so you quickly pulled back and looked out the window

“Uh, I think lunch is over.” You awkwardly say as you seen the team heading into the building “oh, yeah. Seems like it.” He replies with regret in his tone

You felt bad, you know you made him feel horrible with pulling away from him like that but it was unexpected and you just didn’t feel comfortable.

The two of you exited your car and made your way to the stairs and onto your floor, he walked you to your desk that wasn't to far from his “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” you smiled and sat down on your chair watching as he walked away

During the middle of the week, you had only gotten worse. You ran on no hours of sleep and became easily irritable. You weren't even eating, you continued to skip out on lunches and even accidently went off on Spencer telling him to give you space

Everyone was worried for you, they could see you slowly start to become someone you weren’t so the following Friday morning Hotch had asked you to meet him in his office.

You were Scared and nervous hoping it wasn’t to talk about what had happened to you guys, you weren’t ready to talk to him about it and you weren’t sure if you ever will be

“Goodmorning.” You say as you entered his office, he looked up at you and put down the papers he was going over “morning.” He responded and directed you to take a seat in front of him

Your heart started racing, and your fingers felt sweaty

You weren’t sure how you were gonna make eye contact with him, you couldn’t. You didn’t even want Hotch staring at you, it all took you back.

You stared around his office looking at every item in the room, there was a lot to look at.

“Agent, I brought you in here because I have been noticing changes in your behavior.” He explains. Your eyes dart to him “Is it Reid? Is he asking you to talk to me?” you question in a defensive tone, why would Reid do this to you?

“What? No. This is just from me but I don't doubt others haven��t noticed your behavior. Its not normal.” He tells you “how can I be normal?” You asked

His body and face softened once that question left your mouth, you sounded genuinely confused and hopeless. How could everything be the same? You couldn’t see the light.

Hotch sighed and rubbed his face upset seeing you go through so much stress and not wanting to reach out to those around you who cared for you

“I-I don’t know.” He responded truthfully “But what I do know is that not talking to anyone and denying help is all only going to make things worse for yourself.”

You slowly nodded biting the inside of your cheek and your gaze flickering down to look at your shoes

“Trust me.” He said and you thought back to when he was getting a divorce, he didn’t tell anyone. The only reason why it was found out was because he had gotten served in front of you and the team late one night in the office

Slowly after that night though he had become a bit open talking to mainly David and Spencer about what he was going through but he did look less tense after having people to confide in

“Okay.” You say understanding what he was saying to you “with that being said, I think it’s important for you to take leave. Have time for yourself.”

You look at him leaning back recoiling from what he just told you “no, it’s fine. I’ll do better here.” You responded but he shook his head “I’m not asking.”

You took a sharp breath in “Okay…thanks.” And with that you made your way out of his office and went to your desk collecting your items

“Where you headin’ to?” Morgan asked as you passed by him “Home. I’m taking a break.” You say “oh”

The first week of your leave, you spiraled bad.

You were left with your thoughts and though you knew you didn’t have to be, your mind didn’t let you reach out to anyone. You didn’t know it then but going in to work that week was easy, it was being home that was the hardest on you.

At work there was distractions, and at least able to see see people even though you didn’t really talk to them but now it was just you and the four white walls.

It was a Monday night only three days into your leave and you were laid on your couch blanket on you staring at the ceiling as tears streamed down your cheeks, there was a movie playing in the background but you paid it no mind

You wanted to feel different, and wanted to figure out a way to forget what happened but your mind didn’t want to let it go just yet

You took deep breaths trying to calm down but it just wasn’t working, you felt like you were gonna explode that was until a sing song knock was heard coming from your front door

You sit up and look at it “Anyone home?“ the guy behind the door asked you sighed and debated to just be quite and wait for him to leave “I know you’re home..”

Damn

You got up from your couch and made your way to the kitchen splashing your face with cold water then found your way to the front door opening it slowly

“Hey” Spencer said and quickly noticed the stained tear trails on your face “hi” you said and looked down seeing he had a take out bag

“Come in.” You say and opened the door wide “sorry it’s a mess, I would’ve cleaned if I knew you were going to be coming over.” You embarrassingly say as you do your best to try to clean up a bit

“No no it’s okay, my home is like way more messier. It’s disgusting actually.” He reassures you with a slight laughter to his tone but you knew he was only trying to make you feel better because there was no way in hell Dr. Spencer Reid will let his home get disgustingly dirty but it was nice he’d lie

“I wanted to drop this off.” He gestured to the bag in his hand lifting it up a bit “JJ told me it was one of your favorite restaurants so I decided why not come see you and bring a little gift.”

“Oh Spence, that’s really sweet.” You smiled “how much? I can repay you.”

He looked immediately taken aback by what you said and shook his head “What? No. Don’t do that.”

“Spencer, please.” You beg feeling uncomfortable that he’d go out of his way to do something like this “No, how about you just let me eat here with you.” He suggested as a form of payment

You chuckled and agreed “Fine but no picking at my food.” You warned him “Fine with me.”

You grabbed the bag from him and laid it on your table going through the food and sorting it out “We can eat on my couch.” You suggest

Knowing Spencer that was probably a crazy idea to him, he probably ate on his table when he was able too “oh yeah.” He said and followed you to your big comfortable couch

“So how have you been?” He asks after a while of watching whatever it was that you had on the T.V

“Oh erm good, yeah.” You nodded smiling at him

“You know, most people think they’re better at hiding things than they actually are. But facial microexpressions like the way your smile doesn't reach your eyes, or the way you tense your shoulders when you think no one’s looking those are hard to control.” he informs you

You look at him confused as to why he would throw that random fact at you “If you haven't been doing good, it's alright. I-i don't mean to pry but I want you to be able to tell me things.”

You look away from him and set your food down on the coffee table not having much of an appetite anymore “i’m sorry. I just wanted you to know.” he tells you

You squeeze your eyes closed trying to stop from letting all the emotions out but it only makes everything worse because the next thing you know your chest tightened and each inhale felt shallow and sharp your heart feeling as if it was slamming against your ribs too fast, too erratic like it was needing an escape.

“Hey, hey its okay.” Spencer says quickly getting up from the couch and centering himself in front of you kneeling down to your level “Just breathe.” he grabbed your hand laying it on his heart

“Focus on my heartbeat.” he instructed “in and out.”

And that is what you did, you held onto him focusing on his breathing, he made sure to hold deep eye contact with you and laid his hand over yours to comfort you

Once you were calmed down you finally had let go of him “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why that happened.” You apologized “Don’t be.” He says

You felt bad having Spencer see you like this, you didn’t want him to think of you as fragile

“Spencer, I—I know, okay? I know there are people who care about me, who want to help. I just… I can’t. I can't talk about it. Not yet.” You say, your voice unsteady

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness like if he’s carrying the weight of your pain with you

“That’s okay, you don’t have to talk before you’re ready. But when the time comes whether it be tomorrow, next week, or years from now. I’ll be here. You don't have to carry it alone.” he softly said

“I don't know how to not push people away.” you admit to him “I don't come from a family that helps each other out, or comforts each other.” you shook your head remembering all the times you were left alone at the end of the day comforting and consoling yourself

“Let me help you then.” he pleaded and reached his hand out for you, and by your own surprise you took it “I just want everything to be normal again, I want to be normal. I'm scared spencer, nothings ever going to be the same.” you sniffled as you squeezed his hand

“It wont.” he truthfully said “Normal isnt a fixed thing. It shifts, its adapts. One day you’ll find a version of it that’ll feel okay. Maybe not today or tomorrow but you will.” he continued

“Yeah, I know. Its just so hard to see right now.” you muttered “I understand.” he acknowledged

You stared at him seeing that it looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back or thinking against it “what is it?” You questioned

“I know how it feels.. to be held hostage.” He tells you and looks down “You were held hostage?” You asked

He nodded “it was a scary experience. I never spoke to anyone about it after.. not that I wanted to. I guess that’s why I feel so compelled to tell you and make sure you know how much you aren’t alone.”

“Spencer.. I am so sorry.” You whispered not wanting to ask to much about what happened not sure how comfortable he was to go into detail with you

“I was drugged, he used Dilaudid. After I was rescued I became addicted, I wasn’t myself. Didn’t tell anyone, but I-I’m sure they figured. It’s kinda hard to hide something like that y’know?”

Your eyes never left his as he dropped this news on you, you continued holding his hand and sharing expressions that let him know you were sympathizing with him.

“But the reason I’m telling you this is so you know things do get better, yeah I still think about it but not as much as before. I found a new normal, and it’s not bad.” He assured you “What should I do? How should I start?” You asked him

For once you actually felt a little bit of hope, seeing how Spencer was after his kidnapping made you feel like you can do it too, he inspired you.

“We can figure that out together.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The following days Spencer would stop by your apartment when he was available and surprisingly he made himself available almost everyday which concerned you because working for the BAU it was rare when you were free

“Spencer you’re falling asleep, you can go home if you want to.” You tell him as you pause the movie you had put on seeing that he was slowly passing out

“Hmm? No it’s fine. We’re almost finished.” He says quickly opening his eyes you shook your head “It’s Thursday night, and you need to be awake early. Go home.” You sternly tell him

“I actually don't have work.” he admits “what? Why?” you asked confused because its hard to get a day off “I want to be with you…” he lowly said his cheeks getting flushed and he started to look nervous

“You can't call off because of me Spencer, they need you. People need you.” You tell him he nodded understanding “You need me right now, I said I’d help you and I am. You’re my focus right now.”

A small smile crept on your face you loved that he was being sweet but you still were against him doing this

“These last few days have been better with you, but that doesn’t mean you stop working. I am serious, next week you’re banned from coming here. Focus on work.” You told him

“I have a key to your apartment, I’m coming.” He protests “Yeah and I’m taking it back.” You warned him but let out a small laugh knowing you wouldn’t dare

Silence fell for a few seconds just you and Spencer stupidly smiling at each other

“So tomorrow since I have a free day, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe go out somewhere? N-not like a date just more so you can go outside.”

“Well I wasn’t expecting it to be a date anyway, but uh yeah I mean I guess we can try.” You say feeling nervous since it had been a while since you’ve left your apartment “It can be somewhere small.” He suggested sensing you were feeling a bit uneasy

“We can go to a coffee shop, there’s one not far from here with a bookstore right next door.”

“Oh, that seems fun. I’d love to go.” You smiled causing him to smile to and finally ease “Well then, I guess I’ll go. Don’t want to keep you up.” He says as he gets up from your couch

“You don’t have to leave, You’re going to come back tomorrow anyway. Why don’t you just stay the night?” You suggest “Uh yeah, yeah I can do that.” He nodded liking the idea of being here with you

“I have pajamas for you, they’re men so don’t worry.” You smiled as you made your way to your room and picked out a pair of blue pajama pants and a huge shirt

“I like sleeping in men’s pajama pants, more comfortable, and in huge shirts makes me feel like I have a blanket around me.” You state as you hand him the clothes “I was starting to think you had a boyfriend.” He joked

“no. Just me being my boyfriend.” You shrugged and let him go to the bathroom to change, while he did that you turned the TV off and grabbed blankets and a pillow for him

“This shirt, it really does feel like a blanket.” He said stepping into the living area you turned and saw him, the shirt was swallowing him not as much as it did you since he was tall but he looked a little silly

“Love the look.” you say teasing him “Styled by the best.” he shrugged

“Here are your blankets, if you need more they’re in the closet by my room door.” you point towards the closet “Thanks.” He gave you a small smile

“I sleep with my door opened, if you want I can close it.” You tell him “No, there’s no need. I just hope you don’t mind if I snore.”

You shook your head “Okay well I’ll let you rest, goodnight Spencer.” You say “Goodnight.” He replies back and with that you go off into your room, only closing the door to change but quickly opening it back up once you are done

It wasn’t hard for you to fall asleep, it actually felt easier with Spencer’s presence. You felt safe.

Later on into the night Spencer woke up to the sounds of restless murmurs at first it was barely audible but then it started to sound a bit louder

You sounded distressed and scared, your words leaving your mouth in fractured pieces.

He couldn’t bare hearing you anymore so he got up and slowly entered your room “hey, it’s alright.” He says as he sits on your side of the bed and gently shakes you awake

“Help!” You shout and jump up clenching your chest, Spencer’s hands quickly find your arms “I’m here, it’s fine.” He assures you “Oh god Spencer, I'm so sorry.” you apologize knowing you woke him up

“No, no it's fine.”

You sigh and close your eyes thankful to be awake and out of that bad nightmare you were having “Have you been having nightmares?” He curiously asks

You nodded ashamed for not telling him “Yeah, I just I try not to think about them throughout the day.” You confessed “You need to tell me these things.” He says in a serious tone causing you to look down

“I know, I’m sorry.” You apologize once again “I’ll get you some water.” He tells you and gets up heading to your kitchen and quickly comes back

“Here you go.”

You take the cup and drink the water, that dream sure made you thirsty.

“Thank you.” You whisper setting the cup down on your nightstand, you turned on your little lamp “I think I might sleep with this on.” You laughed a bit

“You don’t have to be scared.” Spencer tells you “It was just a dream, and I’m here.”

You bit your lip and before thinking you had asked him to sleep next to you “If you don’t feel comfortable, I understand.”

“No, I feel comfortable.” He quickly nodded, you opened up the sheets and patted the spot next to you, he slipped in and laid down

You turned the light off not seeing the need for it anymore, and laid down but faced him

“If I wake you up again, just pinch me or something.” You smile even though he probably couldn’t see “I’ll never.” He said

“Goodnight.. again.”

“Goodnight.”

With that you faced the other direction and slowly slipped back into sleep feeling even more safe now that he was right beside you.

The days after that night were easy on you, with Spencer with you most of the time and slowly getting you used to going places and finding things to keep your mind at ease

Even on the days where he wasn’t able to be with you, you were still doing good. He helped you figure out methods to soothe your mind like reading or trying out a new recipe

“I’m telling you Spencer this cake I made, it’s the best, and I am horrible at baking.” You laugh as you take another bite

“I’d love to try it.” He said through the phone you could tell he was smiling, he sounded happy

“You should.” You hinted at him possibly coming over later “I don’t think I’m staying late tonight. Mind if I come over with a surprise?” He asked

“A surprise?” You question as you raised your eyebrows “Yeah.” He simply said

“Alright. I like surprises.”

“Good, I’ll give you a call when I’m leaving the office.” He stated “Okay. Be safe, and have fun with your paperwork.” You tell him

“Yeah, paperwork’s always fun.” He sarcastically said

“Yeah, it is.” You replied it was obvious none of you wanted to say bye and leave the call but he had to go

“So who’s gonna end the call first?” You questioned

“You are.” He said matter of factly “I can’t.” You admitted, “Why is that?”

“I don’t want to.” you smiled and looked down at your shoes “I don't want to either.”

You sighed “Well I don’t want you getting in trouble with Hotch so I guess I’ll let you go. I’m hanging up now. Bye.” You tell him

“Bye.” He says and after a few seconds you finally end the call, you were excited he was coming back over.

Not that he left a lot, but he had spent the night at your place quite a few times after the first so when he was gone the apartment felt empty.

It was later into the day, the sun was setting and you were finishing up cleaning your tiny apartment and then all of a sudden your phone rang

“Hello”

“Hey! I’m on my way.” He said with excitement in his voice “yay, can’t wait.” You smiled “I should be home in about five minutes.”

Home. He should be home.

“N-not my home, your home. I’m sorry.” He awkwardly laughed “hey it’s alright, I’m glad you see my space as yours. It’s cool.” You assured him

He took a breath of air “alright. Be prepared for me.”

“I will.” And with that, you both said your goodbyes and you went to your kitchen to get the saved piece of cake so he could try it once he entered your home

After a few minutes, you heard your door knob jiggle meaning Spencer was here so you walked closer to the door, and to your surprise it wasn’t just him

“What.” You laugh as your coworkers made their way into your home “Oh my god hello.” You greet them each giving them a small hug

There was the whole team, to your surprise Hotch was even there.

This time you didn’t feel nervous to be around him, and although he saw you in your most vulnerable position he wasn’t there judging you, he understood why it was so hard for you in the beginning

“Welcome to my home.” You told them and gestured to the living room where they all tried to fit

After a while of catching up with everyone Derek interrupted “Okay enough with the chit chat let’s play some games.”

Everyone cheered and Spencer took out a board game, Emily had brought drinks and everyone just hung out with each other not as co-workers but as actual friends, you missed them.

It was now Friday two days before your return back to work, you were at your desk journaling writing about your week and how the team had come over quite a few times, how you even went out with them a day ago, and that you enjoyed it.

You loved having your friends near you, especially Spencer you weren’t sure where you’d be without him.

You felt bad that there wasn’t a Spencer for everyone but also extremely grateful that you at least got him “I just realized that you return on Monday. Are you excited?” Spencer asked as he walked into your room

You shut your journal and gave him your full attention turning to look at him in your chair

He had your pink apron on, and a bit of sauce on his face “are you fighting the food?” you asked walking up to him and wiping the tomato juice off

He laughed “I’m winning though.”

“Doesn't look like it”

“So, are you trying to avoid my question or did you just want to touch my face?” he questioned causing you to raise an eyebrow, he's been getting bold.

“I'm not avoiding anything. I’m excited to return,” you told him, it wasn't a lie just half the truth you were excited but you were worried

“Good. The team is excited to have you back.”

“Are you sure it’s not just you?” You asked “no it’s mainly me.” He answered smiling and looking down at you “Food is also almost ready.”

“Yay, I’m starving.”

You both walked into the kitchen and you noticed the table was set, it’s never been set. There were even flowers in the middle.

“When did you go out and get these?” You asked smelling them “When I went to the grocery store. Figured it’ll look nice.”

You nodded agreeing because they did look really nice, you also didn’t realize you had nice dinner plates. Must’ve forgotten with work.

“Have a seat, I’ll serve you first.” He pointed to the chair “Spencer no, let me serve you.” You protested making your way to him and forcing him to let go of the pasta bowl “I got it.”

He seemed reluctant but he listened “you made dinner so the least I can do is serve it to you.” You tell him as you grab his plate and neatly place the pasta, with the sauce on top, and lastly, add the meatballs.

Presentation looked nice

“Thank you.” He proudly smiled, you did the same for your plate and went back into the kitchen to grab the garlic bread “I love garlic bread.” You stated and took a seat across from him

“Okay Dr. Spencer Reid, who knew you were an excellent chef.” You gasped as the fork left your mouth his Spaghetti was phenomenal

He blushed “Well you never let me make you dinner, you could’ve found out way sooner.”

“Now you’re always making me food, this was probably a huge mistake on your end.” You inform him taking another bite

After dinner you helped Spencer clean up but it was mostly you singing to the radio and trying to get him to dance, he did eventually but looked awkward.

After cleaning you both watched a movie, your legs over his lap and his hand gently drawing circles on one leg, you knew this was a bit intimate and could be seen as not friendly but it felt nice, you loved having him all to yourself.

“Hey, you want to go lay down?” Spencer asked as he watched the way your heavy eyes kept closing “No” you protested and opened them up again

“You're falling asleep.” he laughed you sighed and sat up “I am,” you admitted and rubbed your eyes

“I wish I could stay.” he lowly said “I wish you could too, but you have a case to figure out in a different city tomorrow.” you remind him “Yeah.”

You got up from the couch and grabbed his hands pulling him up knowing he wasn't going to move himself, he’d stay there all day.

He smiled as he stood in front of you “I’ll be back.”

“I know you will, you can’t be without me.” You joked

“I can’t.” He admitted causing you to look into his eyes they were soft and full of admiration for you

Your cheeks heated up and so did his, both of your hearts pounding he grabbed a hold of your hands this time but you let go and instead wrapped your arms around his neck laying your head on his chest

His hands found your waist gently squeezing them and he rested his chin on the top of your head,!you both know this was crossing a line but so was him sleeping next to you so it wasn’t the first

The silence took over you guys, words didn’t need to be exchanged to show how you both felt for each other

“You’re making it hard for me to want to leave”

“Good.” That is all you say but you pulled away first “I’ll be here when you come back.”

He moved a strand of hair behind your ear and nodded “alright.”

“Kiss me.” You blurt out, at first his reaction was shocked and confused but then it turned into a wide smile and he did but not where you expect it to be

He laid a gentle kiss on your forehead

You closed your eyes wanting to savor this moment forever, you wish time froze.

~ Present day ~

Looking back on the last two weeks a lot has changed, and it was a good change. Possibly even better than before but you still had a dilemma which was if you were going to return to work

You sighed wishing Spencer was here to help guide you or even just to tell you what to do, he knew you best and you trusted he’d make the right decision for you.

A few seconds passed, and as if your wish had been granted, your front door opened. The man you needed so badly right now stepped in

“You’re back.” You said making your way toward him “I caught the fastest flight back here.” He told you “the others aren’t back?”

He shook his head “They will be tomorrow morning, I just needed to be here.”

You smiled “I’m glad.”

He watched you but his eyes trailed to your living room seeing the sticky notes “what is that for?” He questioned you bit your lip nervous to tell him what you’ve been contemplating

“Spencer, I’m not sure if I want to go back.” You admit to him he nods understanding “Whatever you decide, I’m right here.” He assured you as he grabbed your hand

“Thank you.” You say. . .

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

@maisyyyyyy

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