#tipsy demo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eoieopda · 1 year

Text

lacuna (knj)

lacuna (n): a blank space, a missing part

In his twenty-eight years, Kim Namjoon had made countless mistakes. Most of them were insignificant and could be shoved easily enough into the back corner of his mind. The worst of them were all tied for first place, keeping him up at night.

Loving you, losing you, and now – picking up the phone.

Pairing: Ex!Kim Namjoon x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot (Angst, Smut - 18+ or else.) Word Count: Like, 7K (?!) Content: ex-boyfriend au; exes to something?; literally so much angst; yearning; pov switches; oral sex (f receiving); unprotected sex; p in v penetration; cursing; texts from Yoongi. A/N: For reasons unknown, I decided to break my own heart today! The lyrics you'll see below are from "Sooner" by The Low Blow. There's also a reference to one of my favorite tv shows at the end - did you catch it? (1/9/23) The sequel, Redamancy, is finally here! (3/17/23) There is now a playlist 🥲

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, your weary, unfocused eyes stared somewhere in the vicinity of Min Yoongi. Shrouded all in black, you nearly assumed he was your sleep paralysis demon, hunched over his keyboard with his eyes narrowed in thought – but you hadn’t slept much at all lately. Not with your deadline looming overhead like the sword of Damocles.

He relayed what was already looping through your brain. “It’s missing something.”

You scrubbed your hands over your face, too burnt out to care if your foundation stayed where it was supposed to. “I know,” was all you said, though it wasn’t all you were thinking. Listening to this demo – this crushing song about love lost – you knew what was missing.

Or rather, who.

Once again reading your mind, Yoongi spoke with a wary sigh. This time, he said the quiet part out loud. “Listen, I know that on a personal level, this is a terrible idea. But if you really want this track to ache –”

“I’ll call him.”

Yoongi turned to look at you over his shoulder. He, like you, hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; but his surprise still managed to crack through an otherwise impassive expression.

“You sure you want to be the one?” His frown was microscopic, but it was there and it bruised. “I have to hit him up, anyway, so I can handle this for you.”

You’d never told him – or any of your friends, come to think of it – the details of your whatever it was with Namjoon. You couldn’t call it a breakup; that would necessitate a relationship. You couldn’t comfortably assign that word to this indescribable something.

But maybe that’s precisely why it hurt to breathe when you thought too hard about it. Maybe the thing that burned in your lungs was the fact that whatever it was wasn’t much of anything at all.

The universally known narrative was that you met Kim Namjoon at a release party two years prior. After years of putting out extended plays, he was dropping his highly anticipated, full-length masterpiece.

That’s what your label called it; that’s what the press called it; but you couldn’t agree. That word wasn’t heavy enough – it didn’t give due credit to the pieces of himself he broke down and buried within those twelve tracks. You felt seen when you heard it. When you saw him, it was game over.

As the story goes, you went home with him that night. While true, it was the tiniest fragment sitting sharp at the tip of an iceberg. The rest was an ill-equipped ship, sailing in slow-motion through the dark.

He'd spent the entirety of his celebration focused on you. What you thought; what you wanted for yourself; what made that tipsy, uninhibited giggle come flying out of your chest. And then, holding his hand like it’d been tailor-made for yours, you followed his lead out of there while confused partygoers murmured in your wake.

He fucked you like he knew you – on a cellular level – and he looked at you like you were all there was. You’d spent the entirety of the following day there, draped over him or nestled underneath him. You were never not touching in some way – in the little interludes of sleep; while cooking a breakfast too big for the two of you alone; on every surface of his apartment.

He changed your life in those twenty-four hours, but not enough for it to stick.

You’d spent as much time with him as you could in the year afterward, until your twin ambitions sent you both rocketing in other directions. Your various obligations never allowed you to be in the same place for long; and when they did, it was over too soon. No amount of time would ever feel like enough, but half a day, here and there, felt like a cosmic joke.

Like the universe was punishing you for wanting everything, all at once.

Eventually, you came to a fork in the road. His career, though international, was rooted in Korea – home. Yours took you to Los Angeles, to a vastly different time zone, and a schedule that refused to make space. And you tried, but when it came down to choosing – idling together or racing forward alone – your respective dreams were so heavy that they tipped the scales.

Neither of you could blame the other. After all, you’d both made the same decision. There was some small comfort in knowing that he understood you. That consolation couldn’t keep you warm at night when you’d instinctively reach out and find half of your bed still empty.

It would’ve been so much easier to live without him if there was some horrible betrayal to pin it all on, but he was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him.

Shaky legs pushed you off the ground. Without meaning to, you groaned as your body returned to its regularly scheduled programming. Yoongi simply muttered, “Same,” as he made additional adjustments in his editing software.

You affectionally touched your knuckles to his shoulder as you passed by, though you quickly realized this gesture wasn’t made to comfort him.

You shut the door softly behind you and headed up the hallway. Having kicked off and subsequently lost your shoes several hours ago, you padded in socked feet across the hardwood. The pattern – the various evolutions of Eevee – clashed so blatantly with the extravagance around you. Glancing down, you chuckled. At least some parts of you were still recognizable.

The door to the stairwell creaked as you pushed it open and ducked inside. No longer camped out in the soundproof studio, you could hear the smattering of raindrops as they pummeled the exterior walls of the building. Somewhere between a drum roll and machine gun fire, you couldn’t figure out if the noise emphasized or relieved your anxiety.

Gently, you lowered yourself down on a step halfway up the flight. As you stared down at your phone, your knee bounced of its own volition.

For once, you were thankful for the seventeen-hour time difference. This was the kind of call you needed to make at midnight, but one you didn’t want him receiving at midnight. It felt so much safer in daylight.

At least one of you had eyes on the sun.

You’d deleted his number from your phone months ago because you thought it might help you let go. It didn’t. And to make matters worse, you still knew it by heart. As you typed it out easily, you wished this realization surprised you. You also wished that you’d catch him at a bad time, so you could simply leave a message.

You’d never been lucky, though, had you?

Namjoon was half-asleep at a café table when the vibration of his phone against the wrought metal snapped him out of it. In his under-caffeinated daze, he couldn’t determine what that unbearable grinding noise was.

He could, however, see the way the elderly woman nearby was scowling at him. He furrowed his brows and blinked back at her; silently asking what the fuck her problem was. Just as silently, she pointed an angry, wrinkled finger to his tabletop.

By the time his brain kicked into gear, he was too late. He picked up his now-quiet phone and nearly dropped it in an instant when he saw your name tied to a missed call.

He didn’t think twice before returning it – he should have – having figured there was only one way to know if he was truly hallucinating. You picked up immediately in a voice so you that he couldn’t have imagined it. He knew because he'd already tried.

“Hey.”

People who didn’t know you often mistook the natural rasp of your voice for tiredness, but he did know you. You were beyond exhausted, more so than the last time he’d heard from you. Five months and twenty-one days ago.

This sounded like another all-nighter; like you got so consumed in creating that you couldn’t sleep until you finished. Remembering you like this opened a black hole in his chest – all this fondness with nowhere to go, collapsing in on itself, pulling.

What kind of masochist was he, voluntarily subjecting himself to this conversation?

“Hey,” He croaked. Even his voice didn't know what to do.

He heard shuffling on your end. You always pinned your phone between your right ear and shoulder to start — he immediately recognized the sound of your hair against the receiver when you switched it to your left side. Vanilla and honey flooded his nose despite the thousands of miles that separated him from the scent of your shampoo.

There were a thousand questions spinning dizzy in his mind, but he couldn’t untangle them to spit one out. The longer you both remained quiet, the worse it got – and the worse he felt for his silence. Even without seeing you, he knew that your brows were knitting together. He knew that quiet made you feel too exposed.

Namjoon cleared his throat to speak at the same moment you asked, “How are you?” His words echoed, a half-second from being uttered in unison.

He prayed to any god that he’d stop feeling so nervous. There was no reason to be, not with you. You were his comfort zone, his safe space and – oh. Past tense.

Presently, you were – what, exactly? Could he call you an “ex” if you’d never had a title? It all felt too juvenile, hearing people whisper about his girlfriend. You were –fuck – You were home, and now his house was haunted.

A ghost.

“I’ve been good,” he said quickly, planting a hollow smile on his face that wouldn’t have convinced you if you were there. Liar, liar, liar. “Busy. You sound –”

“Awful?”

“– like you’ve been working all night.”

He heard a sheepish chuckle and his clumsy, thudding heart went flying off into the void.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” you admitted in a voice so tiny he nearly missed it, “And I wouldn’t be – I promise – if I could’ve bothered anyone else with this. This one, though… when I hear it in my head, I can’t imagine anyone –”

“Say less.”

It slipped out of him automatically. He couldn’t stop it. Now it was dangling there in dead air where he couldn’t reach it and shove it back down his throat. He must have said that to you a thousand times, giving you whatever you needed before you could even finish asking.

This was the first time he’d ever said it without punctuating it with a kiss to your forehead, though. And now, his equilibrium was off, like the staircase had one less step than he was expecting.

When you finally broke the silence, he could’ve sworn he heard you sniffle, but he quickly kicked that thought back into the cage it escaped from. Your voice didn’t sound sad at all, so you couldn’t have been crying. Why would you be?

“I can have Yoongi send you what we have so far, lyrics too. If you’re interested, just let me know – verse, bridge, whatever you want.”

“You’re with Yoongi?”

It came out exactly as he hadn't intended – accusatory. It was no business of his who you spent time with, professionally or otherwise. And it didn’t even surprise him that Yoongi would stick around after the – whatever it was. All your shared friends stayed shared. His confusion was solely that Yoongi never mentioned working with you, let alone flying stateside to do so.

Why hadn’t Yoongi said something? Did he assume Namjoon wouldn’t be interested in hearing about your project? Because he would - he kept up with all of your releases, even if it hurt. Was he scared that the mere mention of you would exacerbate the tailspin Namjoon was barely surviving?

Or was it something else?

“Yeah, he got here a few days ago. I offered to send the vocals to him, but he said he wanted In-N-Out,” Your laugh, even under the weight of your sleepiness, still packed a punch. “Might be the longest trip anyone’s ever made for animal-style fries.”

Namjoon felt like he was going to pass out, but for your sake, he tried to echo your laugh. “Sounds like he’s got his priorities in order, as usual.”

That uncomfortable silence crawled back in and settled in the space between you. It never used to be like this. His mouth remained open as if his broken brain could think of a single thing to say. There were hours in every second that passed, but he didn’t hang up – and neither did you.

“So, if I figure something out, I can shoot it back over –”

You interrupted this time.

“No need,” You chirped. You must’ve sensed that his train of thought now consisted only of question marks because you dove right back in, “I’ll be in Seoul at the end of the month, so we can put all the pieces together then.”

Please be speaking metaphorically. Please say –

“I’ve gotta hop off now, but it was –” Your voice petered out at the end of your statement, and he didn’t know what to do within the pause.

What pleasantry would you settle on to end this conversation? Was it nice to hear from him, or did you also feel like you’d walked through the emotional equivalent of a car wash?

It was heavy when you exhaled the amendment, hitting the ground with a thud that could’ve knocked him over.

It was torture, and it drop-kicked him into the abyss at full-speed. No light above, no hope below. A black hole that he kept selfishly refusing to close – all because he answered your call.

“Thank you, Joonie.”

Fuck. He was doomed.

You spent a shocking percentage of your life on international flights. It was a privilege – you knew it – to travel to the extent that you did, but it was so lonely.

If you were flying, there were two justifications. The first was the most common – touring. You’d touch down in cities all over the world, stay for a few hours, and then you’d leave again as soon as you could blink.

Your interactions were limited, either one-sided conversations from a stage; or facilitated entirely by a local translator. Never truly connecting, missed phone calls and texts sent too late to get a response. The same stale conversations with the crew that had been stuck with you for months.

The second was less common, and somehow even lonelier – visiting a home that was no longer yours.

It always went the same way. You’d touch down at the Incheon International Airport in your home country and feel just as foreign as the tourists bustling around you. You’d gather a suitcase’s worth of belongings and try not to think about the fact that they – and everything else you owned – once lived there, too. You’d hit customs and then, as a reward, snag yourself some boba from the café on your way out the door.

In all those trips, you’d never once hailed a cab because Namjoon was always waiting. You’d hear him before you saw him with how loud he kept his car’s stereo, but when you did finally lay eyes on him, you’d light up like a sparkler. He’d shower you with affection – publicly, despite his usually private nature – and swap out the luggage in your hands for some thoughtful surprise. Flowers, usually, after painstaking deliberation over the meaning he wanted to convey.

Now, you stood on the sidewalk with your empty hand in the air.

Shortly after settling into your cab, you fell asleep. The person who would have gently scolded you for taking this risk wasn’t there to do so. Instead, you woke up stiff and disoriented to the sound of your driver honking his horn. You quickly learned that he wasn’t honking at traffic; he was honking at you with a scowl on his face.

“Time to go! Wake up – your stop!”

He was speaking in English, so it took you a few moments to determine whether you were dreaming. Impatient, he honked again.

Did he think you were a tourist? Was he right?

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you threw the door open and hurled yourself out. You ran to the trunk, snatched your suitcase, and tried not to remember that you didn't used to have to do this part yourself.

Yoongi had the foresight to give you a spare keycard before leaving California, so you were able to get into his building quickly – before you were honked at again. Spoken to in English again, like this place had never been home.

You, belonging nowhere and to no one, kept yourself together until the elevator doors gave you some semblance of shelter.

Alone, alone, alone, you cried so hard that your shoulders shook. The mirrored walls around you showed infinite versions of you, all pitiful like you were still that little girl who’d gotten separated from her parents at an amusement park. It was incredible how you felt smaller in that elevator than you did as a child.

And fuck, did that embarrassment make you cry even harder.

Eventually, those doors would have to re-open, and you’d have to let yourself into Yoongi’s unoccupied penthouse just to wait for his return. You were so sick of walking into empty apartments and hearing nothing but your own footsteps. No warmth, no laughter, just a black hole of your own creation.

You chose this, you reminded yourself. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You were so busy chasing broader horizons, you didn't notice that the sun had disappeared. If you’d known – really, truly known – what the fall would be like, would you have taken that leap of faith? No, you think, but you did and there’s no jumping back into the airplane once you’ve dived out of it.

Ding.

There was a post-it note waiting for you on the inside of Yoongi’s door that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t taken so much time to shut it behind you. His handwriting was shockingly neat for someone who was always in a rush. His note told you that he’d be home in two hours, that there was food for you in the refrigerator, and that you should help yourself to whatever you needed.

The sinkhole in your stomach wasn’t created by hunger, so you pushed that down to the bottom of your to-do list and dragged your luggage to the guest bedroom down the hall.

Every inch of his place was undeniably Yoongi – monochromatic and edgy, but still so confusingly inviting. His guest room was similar in style, but with more personalized touches than most visitors tended to expect. Framed photos of friends, and the collaborators he was most proud to work with.

Your eyes eventually found one of you, beaming brightly.

It hurt to look, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. It was taken in a photobooth at Kim Seokjin’s wedding last spring. You were sandwiched on a small bench seat between Yoongi and Namjoon.

The former, like you, was captured in the middle of a laugh - smiling at the camera with all teeth, eyes crinkled at the edges but still sparkling. The latter wasn’t looking at the camera at all – just you, like you were all there was.

Forcing yourself to look away, you returned the frame to its place on the vanity and kept moving. Your primary instinct was to hurl yourself into the plush bed and never leave it. But you felt stale after spending so much time traveling, and you didn’t want to collapse into those beautiful sheets until you’d scrubbed the day off you.

Shuffling off to the bathroom, you finally remembered to take your phone off ‘airplane mode.’ All at once, the floodgates opened. The onslaught of texts, emails, and voicemails was so overwhelming that your phone froze.

When the flurry stopped, you scanned through your various inboxes for anything that might require an immediate response. Finding nothing urgent, you were about to set your phone down when you saw an email from Namjoon, addressing both you and Yoongi.

His verse, you realized as you opened it.

I think I lost you sooner than I wanted to And I know you can't say the same But I can't hate you for doing what you've gotta do Cause I'm just in bed sleeping through the pain Do you see wasted potential when you look at me? Of what we could be if it wasn't like this I know you asked me not to try and change myself But when I was with you, I felt fixed

It took everything you had not to drop to your knees.

Namjoon was an incredible liar.

He didn’t utilize the skill often – in fact, he was usually too honest – but when he did, he could get himself out of any unwanted scenario.

In the distant past, he’d slip out of obligations made by his label to stay home in bed with you. It worked every single time. Instead of putting on some over-priced suit, wasting his breath swapping empty pleasantries with industry tools; he’d be hooking his arms around your quivering thighs, pinning you to his face as he fucked you with his tongue.

In the present, he lied again.

Yoongi asked, “How did it feel to hear from her again?”

“To be honest,” Namjoon started, knowing full well that nothing he said next would be, “That shit’s behind me, man. I was surprised her number was still in my contacts, you know? She’s been a non-factor for a minute.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “With the number of girls you’ve gone through in the meantime, I imagine it gets hard to keep track.”

Hook, line, sinker.

Namjoon offered a smirk and a shrug in response, which Yoongi accepted without further comment. The relief of being believed did nothing to cure the nausea swirling in Namjoon’s stomach, though - not just for the cruelty of his lie, but for the way he’d acted since you left and stayed gone.

He learned early on that it would take more than fucking someone he didn't know to keep warm, but knowing better didn’t mean he did better. None of them – and there were many – could pull him from the limbo he found himself in without you. There was an emptiness gnawing at his insides that he couldn’t fill, and the more he tried, the more it tore at him.

The only thing he succeeded at was becoming someone he didn’t recognize –someone he didn’t even like.

Yoongi pulled into his parking garage and turned to Namjoon, staking him through the heart with words alone. “Well, the non-factor is upstairs, so try to remember her name when you see her.”

Namjoon chuckled, but it didn’t sound anywhere close to convincing. There was a flicker of doubt in Yoongi’s quickly flexed eyebrow, though he kept any questions he may have had to himself. Without a word, they clambered out of the car, and they stayed quiet until they stepped into the elevator.

“How has she been?” Namjoon asked more quietly than he meant to. Like someone who’s scared of the answer - or worse, being asked why he’s asking. Quickly diverting further inquiry, he provided clarification Yoongi hadn’t sought. “Sounded tired as fuck on the phone.”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon before selecting the button marked with his floor number. “You know how she is,” He hummed.

That one hurt. He knew how you were – past tense.

Except for that one phone call, he hadn’t heard your voice in months. He hadn’t seen you for even longer than that. Your number hadn’t changed, but for all he knew, everything else could have. All he had now was his memory’s pale imitation of you, always in sight but never within reach.

A ghost that disappeared into the walls before he could get too close.

When the elevator door opened, Namjoon was fighting between running forward and running away. Incapable of doing either, it was Yoongi’s light punch on his bicep that prompted his feet to move. Namjoon trudged along after him until Yoongi stopped short with a groan.

“The fuck?” Namjoon coughed as he collided with Yoongi’s back. “Don’t tell me you’re already winded, dude. I’m not giving your old ass a piggy-back ride.”

The scowl he received could’ve scorched the Earth.

“I forgot my fucking phone in the car.” Yoongi tossed his apartment key at Namjoon. It thudded against his unsuspecting chest only to be caught on the rebound.

Then, Yoongi pointed at the door. “Go play nice and figure out where we’re getting take-out from. I had a dream about bulgogi last night that was borderline sexual, so keep that in mind.”

Namjoon’s face scrunched up. “I’ll be trying my best to keep it out, so thanks for that.”

Yoongi had already turned around, waving a dismissive hand as he stalked off.

As soon as Namjoon heard the elevator doors close, his phone chirped in his pocket and caught him off guard. He glanced down to find a text from Yoongi – who was, apparently, also a liar.

Yoongi [18:19 PM]: fyi you always say “to be honest” when you’re about to say some bullshit Yoongi [18:19 PM]: "non-factor" my asssssss

Namjoon grimaced and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking to Yoongi’s door with his heart in his throat.

Clearly, Yoongi wanted Najmoon to fix things with you. He’d crafted some false narrative to get himself out of there, to give Namjoon the time and space to do it. But there wasn’t a single fucking thing he could say to rebuild the bridge you’d both demolished together.

That is, if you even wanted him to try.

After unlocking the door, he froze. A full minute passed before his hand received his brain’s signal to turn the knob, and even then, his feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. If hearing your voice made him spiral, he was terrified of what the sight of you might do.

More than anything, he was scared to see how you looked at him – and he didn’t know what reaction he wanted. If you lit up the way you used to, it might kill him. If you had no reaction at all, it would definitely kill him.

He would’ve stalled at that threshold all night if you didn’t appear in the hallway, straight ahead. You froze like a deer in headlights, one hand still on the door you’d exited from. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise.

He didn’t notice the red rims around your eyes right away, but once he did, every cell in his body screamed at him to run to you, to hold you.

But he didn’t.

Touching you now only to lose you again tomorrow - well, that was a scab he couldn’t rip off again. There was only scar tissue where his heart used to be.

“Hey,” You smiled so sweetly when you saw him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Those fucking eyes! He’d give up everything he had to erase the sadness swimming behind them, threatening to spill out.

Why were you still so far away?

You glanced around him, noting Yoongi’s absence, but didn’t ask where he was. “I was thinking we could get something from that –”

The longer he stared at you, the more impossible it became to keep his distance. He couldn’t stand on that doorstep with you over there, trying so hard to look like you hadn’t been crying – like you weren’t about to start again.

Fuck it.

If he was so dead-set on re-breaking his own heart, he’d do it with you in his arms.

“Joonie, is everything oka–”

No, nothing was. Nothing had been, not for – fuck, are his eyes getting misty? - a long time. Not since you walked out of his apartment for the last time, and he let you. He couldn’t make any of it okay, but with you there now, he didn’t give a fuck about where you were before.

Your eyes were as big as the moon when he finally reached you, blinking your surprise up at him.

Did you really think he had any other option than to hold you? Did you have any idea how you looking at him like this - bare-faced, freshly-showered, vulnerable - demanded his immediate affection?

It felt like coming home, sliding his fingers through your still-damp hair. He could’ve fallen to pieces when the familiar scent of your shampoo – vanilla and honey – crashed over him, but he didn’t. His lips collided with yours, and for the first time in a fucking year, he felt whole.

You clung to him so desperately, you could’ve ripped a hole in his shirt. You couldn't care about that, though, because he kissed you and it was pure starlight. He kissed you hard, nicking your lip between his teeth until you opened your mouth against his.

You whimpered into him, drunk on the wet heat of his mouth, melting and falling and spinning and flying. You felt it all fall to the wayside, every second wasted without him, every text you didn’t send, every wrong turn that led you so far away.

You didn't realize until you finally broke apart that the tears on your cheek weren’t exclusively yours. His gaze locked with yours, and all either of you could do was gasp for air - chests heaving, lips kissed swollen. If not for the arm around your back, pinning you against his chest, you would’ve floated away. But he had you, completely.

Finally, you felt tethered.

Your trembling hand settled on the side of his face. Fuck! That face. The warmth of his skin, the heights of his cheek bones, the gentle slope of his nose.

How many mornings did you wake up and miss it? How did you ever fall asleep without it nuzzled into the crook of your neck, without the whisper of warm breath on your skin?

You wanted to scream until the hurt left your chest, but you didn’t dare – not with that face so perfectly close to yours.

He spoke first, “I’m so –”

Your eyes followed your thumb as it swiped over his bottom lip, unearthing a quiver that burned you up inside. He was paralyzed by your touch. Enraptured. Leaving that clause hanging open in the air.

His eyes were wide with anticipation as he watched you, pupils dilating when you whispered. “Say less.”

Faster than you could process, he lifted you off the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. Automatically, your legs locked behind his back; your lips re-captured his and his kiss never faltered as he carried you back into the guest room. Quickly and with a shocking display of control, he kicked the door closed without slamming it – or breaking it.

Like so many times before, he laid you gently onto the mattress as if you were crafted from porcelain. And when he finally pulled away from you, you gazed up at him in awe.

This was one of the million reasons you couldn’t seem to let him go – the way his eyes softened when you were breathless underneath him, like you were the only thing in the universe worth looking at.

There were too many things to be said that neither of you could verbalize. You felt them all falling down around you like confetti, loose ends to be tied up later. He didn’t need to say a thing, so long as he kept looking at you like that.

When his fingers landed at the hem of your shirt, you knew what came next. A dance you’d done a thousand times, you lifted your arms for him to pull it up and off. Still damp from your shower, the ends of your hair raised goosebumps as they chilled the bare skin of your back.

He moved slowly and without breaking eye contact as he unbuttoned your jeans. Your zipper followed, then your jeans and underwear in tandem. The denim dragged so deliciously against your thighs as he slipped them down, down, down. As he tugged them off your ankles, you discarded your bra and tossed it aside. You were entirely bare and shivering with anticipation when his gaze found you again.

His shirt soon joined yours on the floor. Kneeling between your legs, his bare chest burned against your own as he kissed you for the third time. So many more were needed to make up for lost time, but you could feel how much of himself he poured into the kisses he’d credited you with so far. The taste of his mouth on yours was indescribably intoxicating after so much time apart.

With you sufficiently distracted, the hands that cupped your face began to migrate. You felt so small under his touch, reduced to putty in the warm expanse of his palms. His face lowered too, freeing your mouth to moan as he placed open-mouthed kisses down the length of your neck.

Involuntarily, you gasped when his fingers pinched at one of your nipples. The curve of his smile impressed upon your throat as he suckled at the sensitive skin he found there, leaving clouds of indigo behind.

As he marked you, he rolled and tweaked your nipples in turn. Your eyes fluttered shut and you keened while your head crashed back against the pillows, “That mouth – feels s-so fucking good.” Your fingers carded through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp; his silence broke with a shuddered moan.

“S’all I want, baby,” He hummed as his lips trailed down from your neck and beyond your collarbone. “To make you feel good.”

You were trembling when he claimed one of your nipples with his mouth. Then he had the audacity to look up at you from under his lashes when he released it with a lewd pop, causing your back to arch against his chest with a gasp. There was a rumble from deep within him when your grip on his hair tightened, and the sound alone made you gush.

“To taste you,” His tongue left a wet stripe above your navel as he continued his descent, large hands dipping beneath you to squeeze the doughy flesh of your ass. Shit - you would simply never recover from this. “To devour you until you melt in my mouth.”

Another sharp tug at his hair, another guttural moan breaking free from your chest.

How often had you dreamed of this in your time apart? How many times did you try to remember how it felt when that timbre whispered sins against your naked body? Fuck. With those words alone, he had you on the brink.

You whined when he pulled away from you; but it quickly turned into a gasp when he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged you with him towards the end of the bed. Now kneeling on the floor, he ducked below your knees until they rested over the tops of his shoulders.

Face so near to your aching core, he growled, and you felt it. “I missed this pussy –” He placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, prompting you to clench them reflexively. “I missed the way your thighs squeeze around me while you fuck yourself against my tongue.”

Shivering, slack-jawed, and stupid, you grabbed fistfuls of the comforter below you. He was so painfully close to your cunt and still so fucking far from you. You knew he could see how badly you craved him - you’d beg for his mouth if you had to.

Of course, you didn’t have to - you never did.

Seconds before your impatience could drive you fully insane, he was on you, tongue flat against your cunt, dragging up against your slit. When the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, you cried out with a buck of your hips. His grip on you tightened, pinning you flush against him as he teased you.

“That it’s, baby. Good girl.”

It’s a miracle either one of you could form words with how relentlessly he licked, nipped, and suckled on your throbbing cunt. All you could do was babble in response to his praise – until the tip of his tongue penetrated your weeping hole, and you screamed.

A flurry of curse words spilled from your lips; his name sprinkled in between the obscenities. Fuck, you needed more. More, more, more. You extended your arm and reclaimed your grasp on his locks. Once you did, you began to grind yourself against his tongue until your abdominal muscles burned - you hadn’t utilized them to this extent since the last time.

His hand squeezed your thigh, goading you, encouraging you to use him the way you needed to. The pressure of his tongue increased with your pace. You had no control over the sounds you made; the breathless moans escaped you before you could think of trapping them. The coil was tightening, burning red-hot in the pit of your belly.

So good, so good, so g –

“Fuck!”

One by one, your muscles tensed in quick succession until your body shook violently in his grip. Toes curling, back arching, head crashing backwards into the pillows, mewling.

When you finally gathered the strength to re-open your bleary eyes, there were spots dotting the edges of your vision – and then there was Namjoon, fuck-drunk between your weakened knees, with a mixture of his saliva and your orgasm shining on his chin.

Lustful eyes locked squarely on your flushed face; his tongue slid from between his swollen lips to attend to the mess you’d made of him. His panting rivaled yours, but unlike you, he was still capable of speech.

“I will never – ever – get tired of watching you come,” he sighed before wiping his mouth against the back of his hand, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

As he climbed back on top of you, he placed a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead. “So vulnerable –” Then the tip of your nose. “So vocal –” Then, too briefly, your lips. “Perfect.”

“Joon,” You murmured against his lips. His mouth curved into a smile at the nickname, which you used almost exclusively to win arguments, or to persuade him to do something. It worked every time.

He nudged your nose with the tip of his as he tried to conceal his laugh. “Baby?”

The fond look in his eyes was quickly covered by fluttering eyelids as your fingertips whispered down over his chest. They snapped open and bored into you as your fingers slid over the waistband of his joggers, tracing a feather-light trail over the bulge below. You felt his cock twitch autonomously against the warmth of your palm.

“Shit,” He hissed through gritted teeth as you squeezed him. Eyes drifting shut once again; he rolled his hips to exacerbate the friction. His neck tensed, head thrown back, when you finally dipped under the elastic and took him into your hand. Skin to skin, burning up.

The next moan from his fawning mouth was something you hadn’t heard in his voice for months – your name. “I need you. Now.”

In the few moments he pulled away to remove his pants, a chill crept in and settled where the weight of his body had just been.

There it is again, you thought, the feeling of having him and losing him.

When this night was over and he was gone from you, would he stay that way? Should you have gone this far, knowing nothing would be different in the daylight?

You were blinking fast when he reclaimed the space above you. Something flickered in his eye as he assessed the look on your face, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you so gently that you could’ve imagined it – but so completely that your brain could never have fabricated it. Not successfully, anyway.

You’d already tried.

Breaking apart once more, he reached down and stroked himself slowly. His eyes never left yours. You both held your breath as he slid into you, millimeter by millimeter, reminding your body – after all this time – how to take him. All of him, to the hilt, until you could finally exhale.

Stretched to accommodate his width, so fucking full, you saw a way out of the nothing that had you trapped like quicksand. It was him, always. Your safe haven.

Neither of you could speak once he began rolling his hips against you. The quiet was electrified by heavy breaths and whimpers. The wet heat of your cunt squelched as your walls enveloped him, just as unwilling to let him go as the rest of you.

Over and over, he grinded into you, dragging his length across your most sensitive places; hips swiveling slightly to the side as he pushed and pulled himself through you, the way he knew you liked it.

Open mouth beside his ear, you keened and sighed, wordlessly informing him that you wouldn’t last much longer. He was perfectly attuned to your subconscious movements, and he responded to each of them without hesitation.

He’d never need to be reminded that the fingernails digging into his biceps meant faster, and the upward tilt of your jaw meant deeper. That when your eyebrows rose above your closed lids, you were seconds away from your release.

He remembered exactly how to fuck you through your orgasm when it came – shallow, staccato thrusts that unraveled you further as you writhed against the sheets. The spot on your neck to nip at like some secret switch, praise dripping hot in your ear like honey.

“Such a good girl, squeezing me like this,” He panted, “Taking me so well – so fucking perfect for me, angel.”

As soon as you crashed down through the atmosphere, his movements threatened to ricochet you right back into space. You keened helplessly with your half-numbed fingers gripping any part of him where they could find purchase.

“I c-can't stop -” You mewled, “How am I s-still c-coming?”

His response didn’t come in the form of words. His lips collided with yours hard enough to clink teeth as he drove himself deeper and deeper and deeper. Sloppy, kiss-bitten lips laying claim; relentless in their mutual need for closeness. Your walls were still fluttering around him – was this your second orgasm or your third? - when he moaned into your mouth.

Every part of him tensed above, around, and inside you as the flood of his release filled every crevice of your cunt.

Breathing ragged, his head fell into the crook of your shoulder. Considerate as ever, he tried so hard to keep his full weight off you, but his exhaustion undermined his efforts. You didn’t mind at all – you’d re-build your home there, staying forever between his body and that borrowed bed if you could.

But you couldn’t, could you? If you felt empty before, how could you feel whole again after this? His name etched itself into your ribcage, and now your body would never re-acclimate to his absence.

Why did you do this to yourself?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight when you felt tears prickling in their corners.

Everything you felt for him – over the course of two years – came crashing down over you. You buried your face into his shoulder and tried your best to keep your crying to yourself.

You’d never get his scent off your body now.

He could sense your shaking; it forced his heavy lids open.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” you sniffled, silently begging yourself to stop. You felt yourself shrinking under his eye. It would only be a matter of time before you disappeared entirely.

His tone dripped with concern, serving only to deepen that infernal ache in the pit of your stomach. “With what?”

“All the love I have for you. I don’t –” You sobbed, “I don’t know where to put it now.”

His breath caught in his throat as if you’d punched him straight in the chest. If you listened hard enough, you might’ve heard his heart break. You could certainly feel it in the way he tensed in your arms.

When he moved off you, you feared the worst – that your incessant crying overflowed the bathtub, and your admission was the toaster thrown recklessly inside. But unlike the last time, he didn’t leave - and neither did you.

The mattress shifted as he claimed the space at your side - where he should have been all this time. Strong arms enveloped you as he turned to face you, and even though he held you, he couldn’t stop you from shattering.

For a while, he let you. Squeezed you hard, stroked your hair the way he used to, let you cry out all the poison that filled the spaces in the cavern of your chest.

And when you could finally breathe again, he kissed your forehead. “I’ll trade you for it.”

(1/8/23): Check out the sequel, Redamancy, here.

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holding-monsters-hands · 9 months

Note

May i get a uhhh..a really sleepy reader with medic, Spy, heavy and maybe Demo? Like sometimes they just sit and stare at a wall and fall asleep in the weirdest positons ever (it would be funny if it looked like a ragdoll) but they are very very cuddly and love to be carried!

Sleepy reader! with Medic, Spy, Heavy, & Demo

Medic:

He thinks you’re just so silly, and he finds it rather endearing that you sleep like you just fell from a 70 ft story building. <3

He can read you like a book, and knows all the cues of when you’re about to fall asleep. So he’ll typically scoop you up in his arms, and carry you off to bed no matter where you two are, or the time-of-day.

Though he does get a little concerned with how sleepy you are ALL the time, and may run a few tests to check and see if this is a under-lying health issue. He tends to overthink when it comes to you, very unlike how he is with his own team-mates.

But if that’s just how you are, and it’s nothing to be concerned about.. he’ll fret over you a little less, and just focus on making sure his love is comfortable and well-rested. Snuggling will always be a must, as he considers that physical connection to be highly necessary to your sleep cycle. (Or so he claims.)

Spy:

He is SO fed up with your shit, I swear. 😭 [loving]

When he can see you’re about to nod off, he’ll quietly excuse the both of you- that’s if you’re in a place to do so, of course. Otherwise, he’ll try his best to gently prod you awake if need be.

He loves to snuggle, no matter how up-tight or nonchalant he may act about it. Having you in his arms brings him a sense of.. peace, like he can finally let loose a little. Like he doesn’t have to worry about appearances, when all he can do is admire how you cling onto him.

Some nights he just does not sleep with how much you move around, you’re a very chaotic sleeper. But regardless, he wouldn’t give away his nights with you for the world.

Heavy:

He’s pretty used to the weird shit you do, including your sleeping positions. So he won’t even bat an eye if you’re laying in a starfish position in the bed with a hand in his mouth and half your body off the mattress.

He loves to carry you around, no matter what size you are: you’ll never be too big or too small for heavy, he’ll hold you like you’re light as a feather either way.

But similar to medic, your constant state of exhaustion will worry him a bit.. so he’ll have medic look you over, and he’ll also probably turn to old home-remedies that his mother used to do for him and his sisters.

And don’t get him STARTED on cuddles, he loves them! however, he’s always as stiff as a board because he’s scared he’ll roll over and hurt you in some way or another, so he always prefers to have you sleep on top of him.

Demo:

He’s right there with you, you both are the absolute WORST at falling asleep together in weird places and positions, like he will be holding onto you like a limp-teddy bear and you’ll still look so comfortable.

Will never attempt to make you feel embarrassed over your sleepy state, he’s just as bad when he’s a tipsy.. and even then, with how much he works? that guy could fall sleep the second he sits down.

He absolutely adores cuddling you, and he is not afraid to show it. You guys probably have over a hundred different cuddling positions at this point, but his preferred position is to spoon you. With him as the big spoon, of course.

Though when you’re sleepy and he’s not, he’ll just rest you comfortably on his lap, gently stroking your back and instantly shushing anyone close by that he deems as ‘too loud’.

#tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 demoman #tf2 spy #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 demo x reader #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2

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wishfuldivine · 27 days

Note

OMG OMEGA GAZ i have brain worms!

but also: omega!gaz being the territorial one. ignoring all other people who think they’re subtly rubbing their scents on his alphas and replacing them like he’s simply batting off a fly.

the girl hanging off of soap at a pub, possibly a little tipsy, is barely looked at while gaz beckons soap over for kisses and nuzzles. and soap like a lost boat at sea steps to the beautiful light that is his omega.

price and the new recruits who are a little starstruck seeing him do a demo are interrupted by gaz stealing his kerchief (or even hat) and wiping it over his scent glands. he tucks it back in it’s like nothing happened, leaving price with a smile and wave.

ghost, poor ghost, knows this person is flirting with him but they don’t stop thinking him just hard to get. queue gaz coming around the corner and trilling with delight at the sight of his big, patient alpha, close to blowing a fuse. and ghost’s standing straighter as gaz circles him a few times before kissing his mask and walking off.

(he gets in a little trouble later for this. for leaving them all wanting him and unable to find him because he disappears somewhere after they need a quick rut or another.) — 🖤

THIS! THIS THIS THIS!

OMEGA GAZ IS A LITTLE SHIT AND WE KNOW IT!

He would be the type to show off at anyone who thought they had a chance with his alphas. And this time, it's no different. His beautiful brown eyes clash with the girl that was trying to get a shot at Soap and smirks. He keeps eye contact as his mouth finds Soap's neck and bites. His inner wolf snickers at the defeated look on the girl's face.

Upon noticing how the new recruits looked on with heart eyes, he makes it clear who Price belongs to. And to add a little more salt to the wound, he proceeds to scent him in front of everyone. He then walks away with a smile and wave, not one bit remorseful.

When he rounds the corner and sees Ghost, he brightens up and circles him (completely ignoring the person trying to flirt with the alpha). His inner wolf purrs at the immediate attention he gets from the lieutenant. He grins at that and rewards him with a kiss on his masked lips and then walks off.

The alphas find Gaz later that night and punish him for hours. The poor Omega is unable to walk. Good thing he was off duties the following days.

#kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #pricegaz #soapgaz #ghostgaz #call of duty #cod #ali answers #such beautiful thinking you got anon!#Gaz would get into so much shit but he'd do it again

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theemporium · 2 years

Text

[REQUESTS OPEN—requested by anonymous]

37. “We should skinny dip.”

50. “I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it's your moans.”

[2.9k] or, in which you and steve take a late night dip. (smut)

“We should skinny dip.”

“Are you insane?”

“Only partially.”

You let out a small scoff, the noise soothed by the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and the soft waves rippling through the pool. You turned your head to the side, finding yourself staring at the side profile of a slightly tipsy Steve who looked deep in thought as he stared blankly in front of him.

“It’s October.”

“And we just fought some asshole I thought only existed in Dustin’s stupid game,” Steve retorted before he turned his head to look at you. “This is like, what? The fifth time we’ve almost died?”

You snorted.

It never once occurred to you that taking on a job to babysit Holly Wheeler for some extra cash during your senior year would lead to you joining the local supernatural force squad. In fact, even now you aren’t totally sure how you got roped into it. Maybe it was a ‘right person, right time’ situation, but you couldn’t deny it was one of the best things that happened to you.

And, with the amount of near-death experiences, also the worst.

“You survive dark wizards and demon dogs—”

“Demo-dogs,” Steve corrected.

“But you want hypothermia to be the thing to take you out?” you raised your brows.

Steve rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the pool chair. He turned to you, hand extended and something mischievous shining in his eyes. “Scared?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Of skinny dipping?”

“You sound scared to me,” he sang teasingly.

“Oh please,” You reached out to grab his hand, heaving yourself up at the same moment he pulled your body towards him. The momentum was unexpected and made you stumble, your free hand landing on his chest as you tried to catch yourself.

Steve reacted much quicker, his free hand falling down to your waist to steady you. But your shirt had ridden up and his fingers were pressed against your bare skin and when you lifted your head, you couldn’t help but notice how his face was inches from yours.

“We deserve one night to just be stupid teenagers, right?” he murmured, his warm breath fanning over your skin and his hand squeezing your waist.

“Steve,” you sighed but you didn’t know what else to say.

He had a point. You had spent the last few years sacrificing your lives for the sake of the town, for the sake of everybody else. You deserved one night to just let go, to be the stupid teenagers everyone assumed you were and make stupid mistakes like skinny dipping in the middle of winter.

“C’mon,” he murmured, nudging his hip against yours and pulling your body closer to him. “I promise to keep you warm.”

Your lips twitched. “You are a bad influence, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah, but the pretty face makes up for it,” he grinned as he untangled himself from you, wasting no time in pulling his sweater over his head and chucking it on the pool chair he was lying on minutes ago.

If you were sober and logical, you probably would have shut the idea down before Steve had even finished his sentence. But with the buzz of alcohol warming you and the adrenaline from your latest run-in with death still pumping through your veins, it seemed like the simplest thing in the world to skinny dip with your best friend.

The answer to all your problems.

Your eyes were stuck on him for a moment. The way the muscles of his back stretched and tensed as he removed the shirt he was wearing underneath the sweater, the way his fingers nimbly undid the button of his jeans before shrugging them off too. Your gaze continued to travel down as he continued to undress, all the way down until he was in his boxers.

“Enjoying the show?” His voice snapped you out of your daze, looking up at a smug looking Steve who stood—albeit shivering—with his hands on his hips.

“It was alright,” you shrugged, hoping the burning on your cheeks wasn’t noticeable to the man in front of you.

“You know, this is a two way deal,” he said as he nodded towards your still-clothed body. “Gotta strip with me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes glanced down at his boxers. “Seeming a bit hypocritical there, Harrington.”

Steve’s grin widened. “And get nothing in return?”

“It was your idea,” you grumbled but it was light-hearted.

However, you tended to forget this was Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington: the guy who didn’t hesitate to complete a dare whenever one was thrown at him, the guy who had no qualms in speaking up in class and talking back, the guy who had zero shame in whatever he did because he was just that damn confident.

The same guy who had been your best friends for years and who you knew would do anything in his power to make the people around him—the people he cared about—comfortable, even if that meant stripping down to his birthday suit and leaping into the freezing pool first just to give you the confidence to do the same.

The noise you let out was a mix between a scream and a laugh as he cannonballed into the pool, the water splashing out and hitting your feet as you staggered back. Seconds later he broke through the surface, pushing the hair out of his face and grinning at you wildly.

“How d’you feel?” you called out, your cheeks hurting from how wide you were smiling but that was just the effect Steve had on you.

“Fucking freezing!” he called back, his teeth chattering as he waded through the water.

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re stupid.”

“Come be stupid with me,” he retorted.

You pressed your lips together, looking down at the pile of clothes that laid on Steve’s pool chair and then the man himself in the pool. There was a look on his face, one you knew all too well. The one that made you want to join him in whatever crazy and questionable activity he coaxed you into, but the same one you knew that said if you backed out he would never hold it against you.

Because that’s just how Steve Harrington was. That’s how your Steve was.

“Turn around.”

Steve pouted. “Aw, c’mon! That’s not fair!”

“Steve,” you warned, and though it was playful, he still abided.

With his back turned to you, you hesitated for a second before you began to undress. And to Steve, all he could hear was the shuffling of clothes and the sounds of zips being undone, and it felt like a form of torture to know what you were doing, to not be able to see it nonetheless.

He tried to swallow back the lump in his throat, ignoring any thoughts on how this amazing idea from five minutes ago seemed like it was gonna blow up in his face pretty quickly. He didn’t think through things logically, but then again he rarely ever did.

Steve heard the splash behind him, felt the waves pushing against his body but he kept his eyes on the woods beyond his house, tried to let his body relax before he turned around.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” you gritted out between clenched teeth, a small laugh following. You turned to Steve, frowning when you noticed his back was still to you. You stretched your hand out, placing it on his shoulder. “Hey, loser, you can look now.”

“I know.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together. “Okay…you can turn around now.”

“I know.” But this time the words sounded shakier, more breathless.

“Hey, you good?” The concern in your voice almost felt like a sick joke, a reminder of how stupid his impulsive ideas are and how stupid he is to go through with them.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding his head. “Just gimme a moment.”

“You aren’t dying of hypothermia already, are you?” you teased, lightly knocking his shoulder and hoping that would get him to turn. But it didn’t.

“I wish,” he grumbled under his breath because maybe it would be a blessing in disguise for him to be put out of his misery.

Steve could hear the water splashing back and forth, could feel the water ripple around him as you moved. His eyes were clenched shut, his lips pressed together as he tried to think of whatever he could to control himself, to not fuck up years of friendship because he can’t handle a stupid, stupid idea.

“You look like you’re in pain,” you murmured and Steve’s eyes snapped open in surprised to find you right in front of him. He opened his mouth, ready to say something equally as stupid but the words died down when you raised your hand to gently cup his cheek, the other one on his forehead. “You don’t have a temperature, which I think is good but I don’t really know how the whole hypothermia thing works. Could be an internal thing.”

“Yeah,” his voice cracked a little as he spoke.

Your lips twitched. “Would be a shame though, since you promised to keep me warm.”

Steve choked a little. “I—”

“Relax,” you murmured as your hands traced down his neck and shoulders, dipping under the water until you wrapped your fingers around his wrists and moved his hands on either side of your waist. “We’re just stupid teenagers making stupid decisions, right?”

“Right,” he breathed out.

You smiled softly before you grabbed his face and pulled his body towards you, separating whatever little distance there was between you both. Steve’s brain short-circuited for a moment at the feeling of your naked body pressed against his, at the way your lips felt soft and gentle against his and the way your nails dug into his skin as you hugged him close.

It wasn’t until you nipped at his bottom lip, a soft groan escaping his lips as you did so, that he seemed to realise this wasn’t one of his dreams where he would wake up in his bed, warm and sweaty and in desperate need of a release. You were actually there, pressed against him and kissing him in a way friends don’t kiss.

“Shit,” he moaned against your lips before kissing you back, a hard and passionate kiss that held years of secrets and feelings behind, that made your heart want to beat out of your own chest.

His hands squeezed your waist before travelling down your legs, fingers brushing along your thighs as he murmured a soft ‘jump’ in between trailed kisses down your neck. You felt your back press against the wall of the pool, Steve’s fingers tracing along your hipbone as his breath tickled your skin.

“Fuck, you feel like a dream,” he whispered against your neck, the tiles digging into your back but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Dream about me a lot, Harrington?” The tease came out in a whine as his lips latched onto your neck, teeth grazing the spots you knew would be littered in soft bruises by the morning.

“You don’t even know, baby,” He lifted his head, his eyes darkened and cheeks flushed and, god, you had never seen him look so pretty. “Dreamt about kissing you…holding you…” his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Fucking you until that pretty throat of yours is raw from screaming my name.”

“Oh.”

His lips tugged upwards. “Yeah, oh,” he murmured as he nudged his nose against yours, pressing further up against you and it made your head spin a little at the feeling of his hard cock pressed against your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you since the eighth grade, sweetheart. You’ve been driving me crazy for years.”

“Years?” you breathed out in disbelief, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt his head duck down to lick a strip along your neck, a shiver running down your spine.

“Fucking. Years.” he ground out, the words against your neck felt ticklish as you squirmed in his hold, only for Steve to let out a soft moan. “Words.”

Your head felt fuzzy as one of his hands moved up your thigh, gripping onto you like a lifeline. “What?”

“Words,” he repeated as he lifted his head, his eyes cloudy with lust and something more. “Tell me you’re okay with this.”

“Fuck, Steve, m’okay with this,” you whined as his thumb brushed against your clit, your hips bucking into his touch but he quickly pulled away. “Please.”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he murmured, almost like a half-hearted comment to himself before he kissed you, your whines getting muffled by his lips.

You were lost in the kiss, your head spinning and your body buzzing at his touch that you barely comprehended Steve’s hand disappearing between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his cock as he began to stroke himself up and down.

His other hand squeezed your thigh, parting your legs as he pushed his body even closer to you, keeping you trapped against the tile wall. He guided his cock inside you, pushing in with a thrust as your broken moans echoed against his swollen lips.

“C’mon, baby, know you can take it,” he muttered between soft pants, his hands a reassuring touch as you sunk down onto his cock. “Know you can be a good girl f’me.”

“Steve,” Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head thrown back as you felt him bottom out in you.

“Atta girl for me, so fucking good,” he praised, his hands falling to grip the edge of the pool as he felt you clench around him. “Fuck, so fucking good.”

It was moments like these where Steve was grateful for his neglectful parents and lack of neighbours. In fact, he had never been more grateful for anything in his life as his hips thrusted into you at a steady pace, your moans and whines the only sound you could make as your back scratched along the tiles and the water sloshed around you both.

“Steve,” you moaned, head thrown back and giving him complete access to do as he pleased. “I—”

“Shh, I got you, baby, I got you,” he murmured, warm breath tickling your skin. One of his hands gripped your ass, squeezing your cheek as his other hand brushed against your cunt, his thumb pressing slow, torturous circles on your clit. “Doing so good for me.”

The sight of watching you come undone on his cock was absolutely mesmerising to Steve, feeling the way you clenched around him like a vice and the little high-pitched moans of his name as your body shook underneath his touch. He had never seen something so fucking perfect and he wanted to see it a million more times until it was etched into his memory so he could see it behind closed eyes.

Soft kisses peppered against your cheek as he came shortly after you, groaning into your neck and biting down on your shoulders as he came inside you, your hands running through his hair to soothe him as he did. He didn’t think anything could make the moment more perfect and yet you managed it—you always managed to be so goddamn perfect in his eyes.

“As much as I love this,” you whispered into the comfortable silence, your legs still wrapped around his waist and his cock still deep inside you. “I am getting really fucking cold.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, lifting his head to press a chaste kiss to your lips before helping you both out of the pool and into the house.

Soft giggles and whispers were shared as you shared a shower, Steve pressing kisses along your neck as you playfully shoved him away. Snorts unable to be held back as you caught him staring at your tits one too many times before you left him to continue his hair routine, deciding to wrap yourself in some of Steve’s warmest clothing before sinking into his bed.

It wasn’t until you were curled into his side, your face nuzzled against his bare chest and your body drowning in his yellow sweater as you took in the faint smell of chlorine and the coconut shampoo he used, that he finally spoke up again.

“You know,” Steve started, his fingers absentmindedly trailing along your arms.

“You know…” you trailed off, nudging his leg with your foot. “Finish your sentences, Harrington.”

“I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it’s your moans,” he said after a few beats of silence, his cheeks flushed a light pink after the confession. He waited to hear you laugh or even jokingly tease him for his comment, but instead you flashed him a smile he had grown to love more when he was the cause of it.

“You should feel honoured, I don’t let many people hear them,” you teased, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his jaw.

“You must’ve slept with some shitty people then,” he retorted, something quite like smugness washing over him.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling yourself back into his side and finally giving in to the exhaustion that had sunk deep into your bones. “It’s big enough as it is.”

“You wouldn’t be complaining if my big head was between your thighs,” he grumbled as he pulled your body closer to his own.

“Next time, big boy, next time.”

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut

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inky-the-artist · 4 months

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tf2 mercs playing beat saber because i love the game

Scout: songs with less than 3.50 notes per second bore him, but he doesn't do that good with pattern changes, so he usually plays sped up songs on Hard, occasionally some Expert ones. he has crazy stamina and can play these fast songs until the headset's battery runs low. very competitive.

Soldier: he always puts his everything into every note, which is extremely tiring, so he usually plays Normal difficulty songs, one or two on Hard every once in a while. he finds it pretty fun, and when the others compete, he usually joins in. when he's tipsy, he'll sing along with the music.

Pyro: (let's pretend a headset can fit over their mask for a minute) they're just there for the vibes, and they love the funky colours and backgrounds of the maps. they don't even need to play the songs, Engie often downloads them modded maps that just focus on the surroundings and it's enough for them. they also enjoy watching others play.

Demo: he's dogshit at the game when he happens to be sobered up, and the drunker he is the better he gets, but the less energy he has for it. one evening he can beat three Expert+ levels in a row and pass out on the couch, other evening he'll play songs on Hard for the entire evening. he's down for a friendly competition.

Heavy: it's not his idea of fun, but he won't walk out when others play, he's content to just sit nearby and watch the casting from the headsets, he'll play a few levels on Normal just for the fun of joining in, but he won't play unless someone asks him to, nor will he play it on his own in his free time. not competitive at all.

Engie: he's crazy good at the game, pretty much the only person in base who can keep up with Scout's preferred song speeds and difficulties. he'll compete with him too, he's not hell-bent on winning but he's not gonna go easy on him. mostly plays Expert and Expert+.

Medic: Medic is the opposite of Scout - he does really well with different patterns, but has trouble keeping up if it's too fast. will SS rank most maps on Hard and slower maps on Expert. does try a slowed down Expert or Expert+ level every once in a while. not very competitive when it comes to this, but when others compete and he has the time for it, he'll join in, and he will laugh at whoever he happens to beat.

Sniper: Sniper is a very casual player, he plays songs on Hard difficulty with the occasional Normal or Expert. he's super stiff when playing, but when he has a drink or two he loosens up. he'll also join a friendly competition if it goes on, but he can't play for too long because the lights hurt his eyes.

Spy: Spy will say this is beneath him and not join the others when they're playing, but truth be told, he tried it once, got his fancy shirt sweaty, failed the level and hasn't wanted to try it again since. when others play, he might hover nearby and point out how goofy they look to the outside world though.

#first headcannons post yay!!:D #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #headcannons #beat saber #inky's occasional writing

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luvring · 1 year

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OMG ALSO UMMM UMMM UMMM MMM i wanna like, kiss Leander sm, so like hmmmmmmmmmmm how about headcanons of different types of kisses by Leander in diff scenarios u kno?? Like Mua Mua 🥺 pretty please?? 👉🏻👈🏻

Also can you ummmmmmmm make the reader a lil bit shy please? Bc I'm shy and i wanna project u kno?? 👉🏻👈🏻

DIFFERENT TYPES OF KISSES

gn!reader x leander | SHY READER SOLIDARITY! here's just a bunch of kisses. kiss kiss muah muah I understand

initially he goes slow and watches your reactions because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. tell him that you do like kisses/physical intimacy, and you're just naturally shy/awkward about initiating it yourself then don't even worry about it. he'll go at your pace and initiate things. So incredibly happy to do so.

comforting you with a soft kiss to the forehead as he pulls you into his arms. there's a softness to his voice while he asks if there's anything he can do, and he continues to press kisses to your forehead/cheeks regularly until you've calmed down/feel better.

waiting in line with him holding you from behind and randomly kissing your shoulder/back. at first you ask if he needed anything but he always says no, he just wanted to kiss you, and you let him do his thing

jealous/needy leander :3c

^ needy leander who lies basically on top of you so you can't escape him. or he's pulled you to lie right on top of Him. if you try to roll away he just rolls with you like Oh where are we going? i forgot about the kisses. he is kissing you. LOLLL you giggle and try to say his name like "leander—le, what are you—" but he keeps cutting you off with a kiss or shushing you

morning kisses!! if you wake up before him and start getting ready for the day, he greets you from behind with a kiss to your temple/cheek before resting his head against yours. his arms come to wrap around you as he smiles and greets you good morning. leander's raspy morning voice. also you know when they let out a deep breath and melt into the hug more. awesome

if the two of you have decided to stay in bed for a while, depending on your position he can kiss you in different places. he's under your chin: kiss to your collarbone area/jaw. big spoon: kiss to the back/crook of your neck, or he leans over to kiss your cheek. if you're facing each other,, ON THE LIPS!

you cover your face because you're flustered and he laughs softly before placing his hands on yours, slowly pulling them away. he says sorry but you can tell he only half means it with the way he's still laughing as he says it. you (try to) frown at him and he smiles before asking "forgive me?"

does it again the next day. Obviously.

bolder if allowed and he's tipsy. as in he would kiss you hard on the lips in front of a crowd if you were into it because he couldn't give two shits who sees. other than the actual main cast, Who's going to say something. also why would he care about comments from the main cast.

^ cuter route where he boops then kisses your nose. then he makes audible kissy noises while he kisses your lips like muah muah muah muah muah and you're like Leander! and everyone's like Leander. and he is still going muah muah muah

^ spicier route with the demo moment where he reassures you no one can see you except he's murmuring it into your ear before what can be described as a mini make-out session. he kisses you on the neck and nips your ear, huffing air against your skin when you jokingly hit his arm. "do you want to go up to your room?" let's relax

that trope of you getting some ice cream or whatever on your face,, and he says "you got some right there," before leaning over and kissing the corner of your lips.

alternatively,, "you got some on your face" is what he says before swiping some icing or cream or whatever onto your nose Then kissing you

^ cooking together and it gets a little messy,, a little silly,, and at some point he grabs your wrists while you're both laughing so you stop making a mess. and he turns your arms so he can kiss the inside of your wrists,, only to lick or bite it a little as soon as you get flustered. "le!" "tastes good—" "le!"

kisses wherever you accidentally hurt yourself. you guys accidentally bonk heads and he kisses the top of yours with a quiet "sorry." you hit your hand against the table and he kisses your fingers. you hit your elbow against the edge of the table and it does the tingly thing. he gives you a look like ?? when you (jokingly) raise your elbow for him to kiss but he does it anyways

regular kiss goodbye ,, leander Runs to whatever room you're in to kiss you goodbye. if he somehow forgets, you are legally allowed, Obligated even, to ask for extra kisses when he gets back

seeing each other for the first time in a long time ohh hand on the small of your back the other holding your face or the back of your neck to pull you as close as possible while he kisses you. he pulls away but only to nuzzle into the crook of your neck where he kisses you again and says he's missed you so much,, "i'm never going on a trip that long again."

if you're feeling a little bold or He's tired,, shower him in affection!!! please!!! grab his face and smush it and kiss him all over and call him so handsome while he places his hands over yours and laughs and takes it all in. it means a lot if you're shy but still do it and he makes sure you know he appreciates you

he asks for a kiss for good luck before doing...anything that could involve luck...a competition? a dare? a game? some kind of dangerous mission? i don't know how a kiss will give you luck in Making a New Drink since that is Up To You? but Alright?

🏷️ @dreamtydraw @respitable @semifilms @mari-thesimp

#touchstarved game #touchstarved leander #leander x reader #nia + touchstarved #<3 sel

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justyoursicanon · 1 year

Text

And here I thought we were different (Only to find out I was wrong)

Summary: A list of times where Spy caught a few details about Scout that makes him realize that maybe he and Scout aren't so different after all.

(A/N: Hi yea so this is based off this headcanon list by @spaghettifromthevoid and hey I thought why not make a oneshot..A very, very long one..) (And @that1randomnamename also wanted to be tagged in this too :])

Translations (Using google translate): cher ingénieur - dear engineer mon lapin - my rabbit

If Spy were to tell the truth for once, it would most likely be about the times he was genuinely shocked by Scout.

There was never a time that Spy would ever have a different reaction to the Scout, it would always be between anger, disgust, or some other default expression he would show to the runner. But after that one celebration on a Friday evening, Spy unfortunately had to rephrase that.

To start off the time, it was mostly cheerful. The team had taken another victory over the BLUs after a rather difficult battle of capture the flag. In short, the BLUs decided to actually make and use a decent plan for once. But as usual, they failed.

With that victory still fresh after everyone returned to the base, they did the usual and celebrated. Heading into the truck that afternoon and driving to the Tuefort to celebrate at the local bar. Or just the one they haven't gotten kicked out yet.

A few drinks into their stay, some of them got a bit tipsy. Engineer was chuckling from time to time between sips of his 6th beer, Soldier was shouting even louder then usual, leading in for Demo to calm him down a bit since he was used to both his and his own drunken state, and surprisingly, Medic who was also giggling a bit as he drank beside Heavy.

But as for someone like Spy, he only sat in a corner of the bar, watching everything from an unusual spot. Drinking away on his own beverage, the bars most expensive alcohol they had at the time. In Spy's opinion, it was shit.

Then, the night got a bit interesting.

Scout was chatting away with Sniper and Pyro, the arsonist nodding their head from side to side leaving everyone clueless if they were even listening to the Scout. And the Sniper, who had only gotten to his 3rd beer of the night due to taking small sips as he nodded along with whatever Scout was talking about.

Now, at times like these, Spy wouldn't give a single shit about whatever his son was talking about. He always thought the boy's interests were... Uninteresting, useless, annoying. But as he dropped his attention to him for a few minutes, his interest had shifted.

He knew Scout was always one for mocking, for fun and games, to be annoying and get whatever attention he could get from time to time. And he would succeed. He always would, especially with those horrible fake accents and statement of mockery the Scout had thrown onto him on the usual.

But this time, the same mocking mannerism he did was different. And this, was what led Spy to think about his opinions on his son. Just a little.

"Man you don't even freakin' know how annoying it was on that one contract I did with Spy! It was somewhere in uh, think it was New Jersey or somethin' and Spy would not get off my ass when I decided to dress up in some normal clothes for once! Like geez man let me wear my polo after working in a literal desert for 4 years!" He heard the Scout rant, a volume that only pitched up slightly as most of the chaos from the other mercenaries died down.

He saw the Sniper nod along as the runner continued. "My polo wasn't even bad! I mean sure it was blue, but we were in New Jersey for crying out loud! He was the one wearing a freakin' red suit and a dollar store ski mask!"

Spy rolled his eyes as the Sniper chuckled and agreed with the Scout.

Then, the next scene had caught him off guard.

He watched as Scout shifted his position on the stool to sit straighter and crossed his legs, only both his elbows leaning on the top of the long table, and he grabbed the straw that was in his BONK! can, and placed the tip of one of the ends of the straw in his mouth. As if it was a lit cigarette.

And for a slight moment, Scout was in a perfect position that Spy would have definitely been in. And Spy had to take a large sip of his drink to calm himself down.

Oh but it didn't stop there.

"Scout you imbecile, Go change out of that ridiculous outfit! Put your hat back on. At least it's something that wouldn't blow our entire cover." The Scout imitated Spy's accent. It was close in a horrifying way. Well, it wasn't perfect of course, but it was close.

Too close.

But it became closer when he watched as Scout continued his actions as he spoke.

The way Scout leaned back a bit as if he was straightening his back,

the straw moving slightly in his mouth as if he was adjusting the taste of tobacco,

and the way his grip-taped hands and crumpled a bit of his shirt in his hands and tug down a bit like he was adjusting a suit.

It was all something Spy had done. And Scout imitated it perfectly.

His whole body froze, the grip on his almost finished glass tightening ever so slightly. He didn't even acknowledge Scout dropping the act to laugh, even with Sniper laughing along with him rather loudly.

But, as soon as they got back to base. He pushed it aside.

It was just a coincidence.

They've stayed together longer in contracts and battles then usual.

But it didn't mean anything, it wasn't a big deal.

Scout is Scout, not the small Jeremy he had in his arms when he was wrapped in a cloth.

Not the Jeremy that wrapped his tiny fingers on Spy's gloved finger.

Jeremy is his son. Scout isn't.

But of course, something decided to prove him wrong.

Spy sighed again as he threw another worn out cigarette in his filled tray. One hand taking out his small kit from his suit, while the other continued to hold his small deck of cards.

Skillful fingers casually open the kit in one hand and he plucked out another cigarette, his index and middle finger holding the cigarette while the rest of his fingers put his kit back in his suit.

He inches the tip of the cig towards Sniper, who was observing his own deck carefully.

"Light," He asks, and Sniper grabs the lighter beside the other deck of cards on a spot on the table and quickly lights his cigarette. Spy nodding a thanks.

Both men were intensely focused on their game, Spy could obviously feel those short glares that the marksman would shoot him with. Even though Spy's eyes were glued onto his own deck.

As Spy thought, mentally picking and thinking what his next move is, he could hear every sound around them.

He could hear the tv in the other room playing, the sound of Soldier and Demo's distant laughter coming along. The sound of machinery and sparks flying in another room towards Engineer's workshop. And even the hysterical faint laughter of the Medic in his infirmary.

He moves the cigarette in his mouth, and adjusts the placement of cards in his hands-

"Hey guys have you seen Pyro?-"

"Bloody hell!"

All 3 of them suddenly jump from the sudden noises. Sniper letting out a shout as he backed up in his chair slightly with a loud screech of the chair leg scratching harshly on the floor.

Spy standing up in a flash with his cards falling on the table and his butterfly knife open and faced at the other voice.

And Scout jumping back with a yelp as he takes a few steps back. "Geez man put the knife down! Didn't mean to scare you guys this time, I swear!" Scout defended, his hands still up in the air as he turns his face away from the blade.

Spy lets out a few heavy breaths, while Sniper slightly chuckles.

"Christ, sorry mate. Didn't hear ya one bit, ya sure ya didn't sneak up on us?" "Uh no? I was just walking up to ya as always. Kinda thought you saw me walking up behind Spy."

Sniper bumped his hat a bit to brush his hair back as he let out another raspy laugh.

"Didn't see or hear ya at all Roo. Thought you would have been using your mouth right before sneaking up on us." "I wasn't sneaking up on any of ya this time. Promise."

Spy glared at Scout for another moment, before pocketing his knife and dragging his chair back to sit on it. Retrieving his cards again.

"Pyro is in the workshop with the Engineer." He says as he rearranges his cards, and leans into his chair again.

All 3 of them stay silent for a moment, before Scout lets out a small laugh.

"Alright, thanks!" He says while waving at both of them, and turns to run to the workshop.

Sniper smiles slightly and waves back, before going back to his cards.

"Shuffle again, I saw your whole deck."

"Bugger."

"Evenin' Spy, mind doin' a favor for me?" Favors were normal for Spy, whether it be both for business or personal reasons. Most favors he had, and accepted, were always for business.

But this particular favor from the Engineer was... Odd..

"Depends on the favor, cher ingénieur." Spy replied, letting out a puff of smoke into the night air as the cigarette remained in his two fingers. His body continued to lean on the railings of the base porch.

"Well.. Do you mind finding where the kid is? Haven't seen him all day after uh, a bit of a difficult session with Doc."

Spy's body immediately tensed.

He whipped around, the cigarette almost falling, even if it was squeezing in the agent's grip.

"What happened?" He asked, his tone turned firm.

Concerned.

"I don't know the whole story, but what I heard from Medic was that Scout was being a bit hard and harsh on his words when he was explaining some things. Think it was something about his health and how the boy's not going easy on himself recently. But, that's all he's told me after Scout ran out of the infirmary." Spy stared at the Engineer, before sighing. The last of his cigarette's smoke flowing out of his mouth as the sigh continues.

Scout isn't taking care of himself?

"Do you have a clue on where the boy could have gone?" "Can't say I do, nor can the others. None of them have seen the boy all day."

Spy nods. He can feel the cold air of the darkening night slipping through his mask, and flowing through the rest of his garments. If he was alone, he would have shivered slightly.

"I'll look for wherever he could be." He watches as the Engineer lets out a soft sigh and smiles, gently patting the French man's shoulder. "Thanks partner, hope to see you with him once I get dinner done."

Dinner was probably going to be done in an hour and a half, maybe two full hours depending on what Engineer would be cooking, and if Soldier or Pyro end up distracting him in the process.

He'll be able to find Scout in time. How hard could finding the boy be?

It took 2 hours.

2 hours.

It was a miracle that Engineer was only finishing up his cooking, added up with Pyro and Demo fixing the dining table while waiting.

Spy didn't know how, he wanted to know how. But at the same time he couldn't give a single shit because he couldn't find where Scout was.

It was driving him insane.

Insanely worried.

He looked everywhere and anywhere. Every spot he knew Scout would stay both on and off battles, any place Scout would have gone to stay at any time.

But he just couldn't find him.

Spy was on his 10th cigarette as he harshly walked on the dried ground of New Mexico, almost yanking away the cigarette as he puffed out the smoke rather then a soothing sigh.

Where could have Scout gone to?

He was walking up to one of the sheds, a bit of a distance away from the base.

It was old, on the verge of falling to pieces, but Engineer insisted they use the old thing as storage.

He made a face of disgust as he reached the door, inching his gloved hand towards the rusted handle. Before dropping it, and ended up opening the door with a harsh kick.

And once again, with no thought of the possibility, his eyes widened as he found Scout inside.

He was sitting down in the corner of the shed, his legs and knees pressing itself to his chest as he leaned his body to a dusty cloth that was covering what Spy thought was most likely an old sentry.

His baseball cap was messily placed on his head, the front end covering his eyes as a few small strands of his hair puffed out in the back of his head.

He was asleep, Spy figured since Scout would have jumped if someone just suddenly kicked the door open to the point of literally shaking the shed.

He walked over to him, quietly kneeling down to Scout's level, and gently shook his shoulder.

The Scout muttered as he rocked his head to the other side, his hat falling to his side as he let his head hang on his shoulder.

Spy let out a quiet breath.

"Scout. Scout wake up."

Scout muttered again as the words filled the room. His body shifting slightly.

Spy shook his shoulder again, and Scout's eyes started to blink open.

"Wha.. What?-" He asked, letting out a yawn as he scratched his head, his hat falling to the ground in the process.

"We'll be late for dinner, get up. I'll be outside." Spy replied as his gaze softened when he saw him awake. He stood up, dusting off his suit, and walked outside. Standing in the night's air as he waited.

Scout came out shortly after, his dogtags clinking together as he walked past Spy, leaving the French man to roll his eyes and catch up with him on the same pace.

"What happened with the doctor?" He asked. He noticed the way Scout's pace faltered slightly, but didn't stop.

"It ain't any of your business." Scout replied, shoving his loosely taped hands in his pockets as he breathed in the cold air.

Spy opened his mouth again to reply, but then thought about it. Then closes it.

1:05 AM

It wasn't unusual for Spy to stay up at such late hours. He had various of reasons to why he would always find himself sitting in his smoking room, the flames in the fire place long gone hours ago, the lights closed and dim, and the rain continuing to pour outside his very windows.

He would also find himself walking down the halls of the base, and sitting in one of the chairs in the kitchen.

It became a normal habit for the man, and he wasn't the only one.

He knows Medic would often stay up late too, being a busy doctor and experimenting on anything and everything.

As well as the Engineer. Such a hardworking man trying to upgrade his precious sentries.

As his shoes barely made hearable clacks on the wooden floor, watching himself slowly walk to the kitchen like always, he hadn't expect to see anyone else in the kitchen at this late time.

But why did it have to be Scout? Why was the first thing he saw when he stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen was that plain red shirt with its sleeves ruffled and messily pull down? Why out of all of the people in the base did it have to be Scout? He didn't know either. "Oh, uh hey pal. Can't sleep either?" Scout asked as his head finally looked up from hanging, and staring at the table that he leaned forward on.

Spy immediately noticed those tired, empty blue eyes. Why were they so dull tonight?

Spy didn't reply, only nodding once, and walking past Scout and towards the cabinets where their cups laid in.

As he poured the cold water from the pitcher, he could hear the faint deep breaths of the runner. He finished pouring and places the pitcher back in the fridge, taking the cup and leaning on the sink counter as he sips it.

The two laid in silence.

"Mon lapin, why are you awake?" Spy finally asks. Drinking the last drops of his water, before placing the cup in the sink. Once he turns back to Scout, he shrugs as his posture slouches a bit further. "Earlier in the battle, the BLU Demo was being an asshole and kept bombing the spots I always go to when I'm tryna heal." He pauses, and Spy notices his thumbs trying to fidget with each other, but soon stop. Spy suspected he was trying to fidget with his grip tape. But he wasn't wearing any at the moment.

"Every time I turned a corner to hide, just one freakin' second of standing I could hear ticking. And before I could even look, I get blown up." He finished, he leans back into his chair, head raised up to the ceiling and sighs. Both his hands coming up to rub down his face.

"I keep hearing the damn ticking in my head, it's killing me! I'm so beat down already man.." He muttered, and slouched back onto the table.

Spy hummed as he stared at his son, a few minutes passing by with silence.

Before he let a sigh, and slightly rolled his eyes.

"Follow me." He said, turning and walking down the hall again. His quiet clanks fading as he walks deeper into the hall.

Scout's head jumps immediately, and stumbles out of his seat to follow him, hissing slightly at the slight pain in his body.

Spy could hear those rough and heavy stomps on the wooden planks not too far behind him, he sighs and shakes his head, hoping he wouldn't regret this decision.

He reaches his smoking room and opens the door, leaving a crack open for Scout to follow.

He then continues to remove his suit coat and hangs it in a nearby coat rack, leaving him in his white polo while loosening his tie slightly. He could hear the door creak open as Scout enters, and he fetches his lighter in his coat pocket and walks to the fire place.

"Sit on one of the chairs, I'll be with you in a moment." He says aloud, and he could her Scout's unsure 'uhh' somewhere behind him. He grabs a few dusty-ish logs from a small corner in the room, and throws them in, flicking the lighter and setting the wood in flames.

He dusts himself off as he stood up, turning to the small table that had a gramophone, and opens the drawer below it. Slowly picking through the various of records stored inside. "Uh Spy? What exactly am I doin' in ya smoking room?" Spy didn't respond, again. He picks out a vinyl record and gently places the record down on the gramophone, and hums as it starts playing.

Scout stares at the gramophone for a moment, processing the music that was continuing to play.

It was nice. "You can stay here for the night, I considered that the music would help with this... 'Ticking.'" Spy replied, taking a seat on the other chair that was near the fire place.

He watched as Scout's expression turn from surprise, to thankful. A tired smile grows on his face as he leans in the couch to get comfortable.

"Thanks for not being an asshole for once," He hears Scout mutter. Spy rolls his eyes as he also leans in his own chair. "Night Spy.."

Spy wouldn't dare admit the small smile on his face as soon as he saw Scout finally relax and fall asleep in peace.

"Aye lad, mind chattin' with ya for a second?"

Spy looked over at the Demo man with a raised brow. They were a minute in before battle started, and everyone was getting ready in Resupply.

"Scout over there seems pretty eh.. Out of it today.." He says as he takes a small sip from his bottle as he nods towards Scout.

Spy follows his movement and spots the runner sitting on one of the benches, leaning on the wall as he messily balances the end of his baseball bat on the ground. Twirling it slightly.

Now his whole position wasn't out of the usual, it was more of his expression.

His face barely showed, indicated, or expressed any emotion. His blue eyes looked dull and fogged as he stared at the wall, and into nothingness.

Spy didn't even think that Scout was capable of doing a poker face.

But what got him to look away in a rush was that Scout's poker face looked almost exactly like his when he was in his youth.

His mouth in a thin straight line, eyes expressed and shown balanced between tired and wide, and his eyebrows barely twitching and basically glued to one spot.

"Scout? Scout are you alright?"

Spy watched as Medic walked over to Scout and shook his shoulder, causing the younger man to shake his head, seemingly snapping out of the expression, and turns to Medic with a more confused look. "Uh yea? What's up doc?" "You were staring at the wall when I called you the first 2 times, are you alright?"

Scout rubbed his eyes and adjusted his cap, then looked back at the doctor. "Yea, yea I'm fine. Just zoned out." He said and waved his hand, standing up as his hand gripped his metal bat as it swung and landed on his shoulder to rest there.

Medic nodded and spoke to him for a while, leaving Spy to contemplate for another few moments.

He didn't have long, before the Administrator shouted in the speakers.

"Startin' to realize he looks like you everyday, huh partner?" Engineer asked, looking over at the Spy with his goggles shining from the light as the doors lift open.

Spy only sighs out a trail of smoke as he drops the cigarette on the floor, and steps on it.

The End :]

#SiC anon writes #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 demo #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #spydad #dadspy #tf2 dadspy #tf2 spydad

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