#and it's my own fucking fault for falling into the crowd like that.

[jankwritten]

yall wanna know how fucked up my anxiety is about some shit

i scroll past a post that's about a topic i don't like. whatever, it's fine. i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't care about. that's normal.

i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't like or care about but the person presenting it is a person of color? i IMMEDIATELY feel immensely guilty and need to "compensate" by "proving" it wasn't because of race by also skipping other random posts, JUST IN CASE someone thinks I'm racist because I didn't want to watch a video on a topic I didn't like or care about, that happened to be presented by a person of color.

this just in on: the police in my brain are loud and i'm scared of them

#this is also because i grew up in a racist area and in that culture and my own ignorance i also Was Kinda Racist #but like in that way where you don't realize it's racism until you're out of it and now feel so ashamed that you forcefully block all #those memories just so you don't ever have to associate yourself with them ever again? #(mind you I was like. 15-16 and closeted and scared scared scared all the time so I acted like the Crowd and that was awful of me to do) #BUT NOW that i've grown and am learning and have taken classes on anthropology and all kinds of stuff I just feel like I notice my own shit #like TENFOLD now #it's my anxiety overthinking thing plus if anybody ever knows I could have done anything SLIGHTLY problematic the world will explode #plus my constant paranoia that someone is always watching me and just Knows that I'm Secretly a Bad Person (even though I don't think I am? #also I feel like I need to clarify that the kind of racism in my town wasn't like. klan shit. it was like very hidden racism? #it was like. kids casually doing black accents and making jokes with racist undertones. the kind of racism where race was always #the butt of the joke instead of an outright HATED thing. and I think that's why it was so hard to unlearn #it's like that thing where in order to stop wanting to kill yourself you have to stop joking about wanting to kill yourself #this has become a vent post accidentally i'm so sorry #this is just. one of my Major anxieties that engulfs me every day because of 1) anxiety 2) potential OCD 3) being a bad person in my past #this is another reason I fucking hate florida #because I just know if I had grown up in my home town in MI I would not have been raised in that environment #and it's my own fucking fault for falling into the crowd like that. #all this to say i traumatized myself and likely some people around me by being A Fucking Idiot when I was a kid #and now adult me is doing everything in their power to not ever be that person ever fucking again #tw vent post #tw racism #tw past racism #but im better now and I know my mistakes and I refuse to make them again #fuck florida for every fucking reason under the sun

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him. 

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache. 

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right? 

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but… 

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it. 

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her. 

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.” 

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs. 

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?” 

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him. 

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.” 

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out. 

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table. 

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober? 

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do? 

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you. 

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it. 

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink. 

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked. 

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared. 

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled. 

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.” 

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you. 

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid. 

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible. 

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth. 

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused. 

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader. 

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him. 

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -” 

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you. 

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question. 

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly. 

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath. 

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.” 

Oh. 

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you. 

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky. 

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.” 

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh. 

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you. 

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental? 

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command. 

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile. 

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered. 

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest. 

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right? 

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again. 

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head. 

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather. 

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise. 

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you. 

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle. 

Oh, he liked you a lot. 

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it. 

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you. 

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch. 

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked. 

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered. 

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture. 

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books. 

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer. 

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move. 

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers. 

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now? 

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too. 

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now. 

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises. 

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.” 

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out. 

“Yep.” 

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?” 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face. 

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it. 

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about. 

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair. 

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low. 

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star. 

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled. 

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered. 

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath. 

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face. 

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“My shirt,” he stated. 

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.” 

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips. 

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again. 

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.” 

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it. 

“Y/N?” 

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again. 

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it. 

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool. 

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts. 

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request. 

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood. 

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right? 

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.” 

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight. 

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him. 

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?” 

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive. 

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?” 

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying. 

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.” 

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began. 

You started to smile. 

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.” 

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.” 

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back. 

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.” 

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid x you #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader

[steddie-as-they-come]

sequel to my roommate steddie au!! here's the first part! tags have changed, it's now more mature with some fade to black sex

Steve’s so warm. It’s not fair.

Eddie must have half his wardrobe on, tucked under all the blankets on his bed, and Steve is just sitting over there, in a T-shirt and thin sweatpants, like the jackass he is.

"You look cold." Steve says, shifting a bit.

Eddie glares at him. "No shit, Sherlock," he bites out, trying to reign in his temper. All things considered, Steve's a pretty great roommate, sharing his food and his children with Eddie. It's not his fault the college decides to let their students freeze to death.

Steve, to his credit, just laughs at him. "Okay, fine. I was gonna offer for you to come hang out over here, since you're over the vent and I'm not, but if you're gonna be like that-"

Eddie practically teleports out of bed. "No! No, please, Steve, did I ever mention how great your hair looks today and how kind you are to me-"

Steve laughs again, moving out of the way and patting the bed next to him. Eddie doesn't hesitate to scurry up and tuck himself into a little cocoon of his own blankets, trying not to bump Steve's arm as he focuses on his homework. He doesn't completely succeed, and his hand brushes against Steve's bare arm.

"What the fuck?" he says loudly. "Why are you the temperature of a campfire?"

Steve shrugs. "I've always run hot." he says. "It's great during winter movie nights because everyone piles on top of me, but then I get banished during summer movie nights, which is no fun."

Eddie's already sprawled over his shoulder, sighing happily, like some kind of lizard on a sunlit rock. If August Eddie could see him now, he'd try to smack the shit outta him for falling for a straight guy. One who was his roommate, no less.

But it's hard not to when Steve is kind, and accepting, and a little bit stupid, and hot as hell. It isn't like he just tolerates Eddie's physical affection either, he seems to welcome it. Steve even started initiating it, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders, grabbing his arm to haul him out of particularly big crowds, and the hugs. Steve loves hugs.

There's a darkness to Steve too, the way he moves, the way he's always checking over his shoulder, flinching at flickering lights, always ready for a fight.

It makes Eddie wonder if Steve is like him.

Eddie wiggles a bit, adjusting his chin to prop on Steve's shoulder. "Whatcha workin' on?" he asks, just to be nosy.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning away. "None of your business." he teases.

Eddie misses the warmth as soon as Steve's gone. "Nooooo," he whines. "Come back. I won't look!"

Steve stays leaned away, raising his eyebrows. "You're so weird." he says. It's not in a mean way, more that he's bewildered that one person can be this strange. Eddie takes this as a compliment.

He pretends to freeze to death, jerking and flinching. "It's...so cold." he mutters. "I see...the light... All because my roommate...let me freeze to death..."

Finally, Steve's blissful warmth comes back, and Steve sighs, tapping his pen against his paper. Eddie tries to peek again, and recognizes familiar words.

"Is that a character sheet?" he yells, and Steve frowns at him.

"You said you wouldn't look!"

Eddie waves him off, grabbing for the sheet. "Steve, this is D&D. It's automatically my business when it's D&D."

Steve finally hands it over. "Fine. Yes, it's a character sheet. Dustin's birthday is next Monday, and I was gonna ask you if I could join your game as a present to him."

Eddie nods, inspecting the sheet. Dustin's been begging for Steve to join basically since they started their little arrangement, where Eddie DM's for them in exchange for no more open hostility in the dorms. It may have worked a little too well, given Eddie's budding crush, but c'est la vie.

Eddie hands it back. "You are supposed to give the DM the character sheet a couple days in advance so they have time to work you into the plot."

Steve winces. "Really? Shit, I didn't know that."

"It's fine, I got some ideas, just from looking it over. You can borrow a spare set of dice and one of my miniatures too."

"Oh good, I had no idea if I needed any of that stuff."

"Do you want me to do a little crash course for you?" Eddie asks, preparing to brave the cold to grab his little homemade handbook.

Steve gives him a deadpan look. "Are you kidding me? Dustin is gonna love being better than me at this. I might as well go in with a regular six-sided die and pretend I thought that's the one I needed."

Eddie laughs. "Fair enough." The cold touches his neck and he burrows back into his blankets. "This fucking sucks, by the way. The cold."

"You're a big baby, man. It's fine."

"Ah, yes. Forgot I live with a walking, talking furnace." Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering, "This is worse than the time I was left outside in the cold."

"Wait, what?" Steve turns to him, eyes flinty like steel. "You were...what?"

"Oh. Um." Eddie's not sure how much to reveal, but he figures it had to come out eventually. "My dad left me out in the cold when I was thirteen. I think he thought it'd fix me. I just got really sick, though." He laughs humorlessly.

"You said...fix you?" Steve says, and Eddie's heart drops. He backs away from Steve before starting to talk, trying to find something to defend himself with if Steve gets mad.

"Yeah." Eddie says. "He saw me...kissing a boy."

Steve's eyes widen, and then he scoots closer. Eddie's breath hitches.

"Me too." Steve whispers.

Now it's Eddie's turn to be shocked. Steve continues. "Not...not left outside in the cold. They'd need to be home long enough for that. But...bisexual. I like girls and guys."

There's a tense, charged silence in the room. Eddie draws up all his courage. "I like you, Steve."

Steve stares at Eddie’s lips. “Can I-” he whispers breathlessly.

Eddie, seemingly just as entranced, nods, and Steve leans forward, pressing his lips against Eddie. Almost unconsciously, Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Steve hums happily. 

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the sealed lines of Steve’s lips. Steve freezes, then slowly, tentatively, opens his mouth. 

Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. Eddie practically pulls Steve down towards him, hands greedily exploring every inch of Steve he could reach. Steve gladly returns the favor, sneaking his hands between Eddie’s back and the mattress so he can feel the muscles lining Eddie’s spine flex and move as Eddie kisses him stupid. 

Eddie pulls back, breaking the kiss. Steve whines, actually whines, and dives back in, but Eddie stops him with a gentle hand on his chest. 

He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Steve chases it, leaning subtly towards Eddie, but Eddie just keeps moving, kissing a trail from his mouth to his chin, to the soft skin where Steve's jawline blends into his neck. Steve keeps moving, running his hands up and down Eddie’s back just for something to do. 

Eddie reaches the small curve where his shoulder meets his neck, and Steve feels a small scrape of teeth against his skin. He whimpers. 

“Oh?” Eddie says, the first thing he’s said since Steve leaned in. His voice is raspy, and Steve privately thinks it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. “There?” 

He kisses there again, but this time there's no teeth, and Steve stays quiet, breathing slowly, in and out, in and out. 

“Or…did you like it when I did this?” 

Eddie leans forward and nips at Steve’s collar, and Steve keens. “Eddieee…” he says, dragging the vowels out too long, leaving that name hanging in the air.

Eddie tilts his head back up and captures Steve’s lips in another kiss, tongue sliding into Steve’s mouth smoothly. He kisses for a few seconds, then readjusts and gently nips at Steve’s lower lip. 

“Please, please Eddie,” Steve begs breathlessly, not even sure what he's pleading for. Eddie seems to get it though, and slides his hands under his shirt to cup Steve’s waist.

Steve laces his hands through Eddie's hair and pulls, and Eddie lets out a moan, pushing Steve off of him and rolling so he's on top, enjoying the feeling of Steve under him on the mattress.

"I've never been so glad for the cold," he whispers against Steve's lips, and kisses him again.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #college au #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #i am not brave enough to write actual smut yet. so fade to black it is

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Two♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Two Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Two]

“[name]!”

You turned your head, before seeing Emily racing towards you to tackle you to the ground in a hug. You laughed, although it came out as more of a wheeze under her crushing grip, and hugged back. She raised her head, eyes watery. 

“Adam said you disappeared,” she said, and the barely restrained fury at him was evident in her voice, which dropped to an incredulous whisper. “Where were you? What happened? Sera’s mad as hell-“

“He didn’t leave me,” you managed to crack a reassuring smile, and Emily’s shoulders drooped at your next words, “I flew off.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he neglected his responsibility. And, frankly, ignored my direct orders to keep you safe.”

You raised your head to see Sera, her forehead creased in a stressed frown. “Come with me to my office.” She began to turn, then paused, eyebrows pulling right down, deepening her frown. “Is that blood on your clothes?”

You glanced down. The dark patches seemed to be covered with a thin gilded sheen. “I-it’s nothing, really,” you babbled, scrambling to wipe it off, only to see most of it had dried.

Sera didn’t seem convinced.

Emily pulled you up before you followed them hesitantly, the confusion on her face at the situation evident, even though she was smiling at you nervously.  You gulped. 

Charming. 

♱♱♱

“So, to be clear, you let [name] fly off and put herself in harm's way even though she has no experience as an exterminator?” Sera turned from Adam to you. “[name], this is only a one time thing. You are most certainly not accompanying the exterminators down to Hell next year. After Adam has proven how neglectful he is-“

“No,” you gasped, the words flying out your mouth without you even thinking about them.

 The entire room seemed to freeze.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and continued, more gently. “No, it wasn’t his fault. See, what happened was-“ you glanced over at where Adam was seated next to you. He raised an eyebrow, face flat, and you swallowed. Your throat felt like a desert. 

“I flew off,” you continued. “He went after me, I mean, he really tried I swear. But I shook him off and ended up tearing my wing on a branch, hence the blood- he found me a while later and healed me up. The wound wasn’t too serious. It only broke some skin, and- and, I could still fly. We just lost each other in the crowd going back up to the Pentagram is all.”

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? You could almost feel the beads of sweat forming on your brow as you smiled at her stiffly. 

Sera turned and looked at Adam, waiting for his confirmation. He looked over at you, grinning wide. You pointedly stared back, which wasn’t necessary- he didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s what happened. I was tryna tell ya the whole time and you guys just weren’t listening.”

“Please let me go next year, Sera,” you pleaded, eyes widening. She chewed her lip, contemplating, as you continued. “I was perfectly fine. And I may not be an experienced exterminator, but you know more than well enough I can hold my own against a couple of mere sinners.” You shot a look at Adam.

”Yeah, [name]’s powerful as fuck-“

“I wouldn’t say powerful-“ you began, but was cut off by Sera.

“You’re far too modest, [name],” Sera smiled at you tiredly. “And what you said seems to add up. I know you’d never lie to me-“ she side-eyed Adam, who didn’t notice, continuing to pick at his nails. “-Or to anyone, for that matter. Yes, you may go again next year if you wish.”

You looked at the ground. “Thank you, Sera,” you said, your own voice ringing small in your ears.

♱♱♱

“Jeez, sugartits, I didn’t think I’ve ever heard you lie before,” Adam smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You glared at him in fury, before jabbing a finger at his chest. You were both in a hallway, Sera’s office door at the end of the corridor where you had come from. 

“Watch it, Adam,” you hissed, then took a deep breath, calming yourself down. “I did it for you, so be grateful.”

“…thanks.”

You smiled at him. “No problem.” 

You both stared at each other for a few moments, before Adam spoke.

“Are we gonna fuck right now?”

“No!” You hissed, exasperated, feeling your face burn. “No, we are not. Here’s what is gonna happen, Adam. Next extermination, you’re gonna let me fly off by myself, mind your own business, and not tell Sera, and if you don’t do that, I’ll blab and tell them everything. And then they’ll hate you forever.”

He stared at you for a second, blankly. You gulped, your blood pounding in your ears. Crap. Dumb idea-

Adam finally raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to go off sneaking around Hell during the extermination, sugartits? Got a secret?”

“Most certainly not,” you snapped. “I simply want to explore Hell alone.”

Adam stared at you for a moment. “You never say what’s on your fuckin’ mind, do ya, sugartits? You always gotta water it down to be nice. If I annoy the shit outta you, just say that.” 

Your gaze softened, then you shook your head and stared at your feet. “I’m not a mean person.”

“Not mean if it’s the truth.” He shrugged. You looked back up at him. He was wearing that familiar, shit-eating grin again. You huffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at the pristine floor. 

“Sure. Well, some people have a filter.” 

“Meh. Whatever.”

“So, will you do what I asked you to do?”

Yeah, I’ll do what you want.”

“Wait really?” You stared at him. 

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. Do what you want, you saved my ass from a three hour lecture back in there anyways.”

You watched him walk away until he rounded a corner and disappeared, shocked at his nonchalance, and then pressed your back to the wall and sank down, head in your hands. 

Did you seriously lie to the Seraphim just to be able to go back to Hell next year? Why? Why?

Was it because of- no way. Don’t be ridiculous. You knew Lucifer had the quality of being ‘tempting’, from what the Bible said, at least, but there was no way you were being led to temptation from a small interaction with absolutely no ‘tempting’ aspects to it. Whatsoever. 

Hell is a nice break from Heaven. And it’s interesting to see what it’s like. I’m just curious is all… 

You stared at your hands, mind flashing back to something Sera had said a while ago.

Curiosity killed the cat. 

“[name]?”

You looked up. Sera was staring down at you. “Are you alright?”

You cursed internally, your heart almost leaping out of your throat. “Yes, Sera, I’m just… thinking.”

“Perhaps I could help?”

You studied her face. It was wearing the specific, reserved look she wore for when she was suspicious but didn’t want to show it. You smiled and shook your head. 

“I’m just trying to figure out what I ate this morning that could make my stomach hurt this much.”

Sera’s face relaxed, nodding. You knew that she wouldn’t believe that you’d lie to her. You knew it would be easy to squash her suspicions. 

“Well,” Sera said, “Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded smiled weakly again, watching her steady, deliberate steps as she disappeared around the corner, then hung your head again, sighing.

You prayed you weren’t digging yourself into a hole.

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel

#FATHER FORGIVE ME (FOR I HAVE SINNED) -LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X ANGEL!READER #Hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fic #hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic #lucifer x reader angst #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader hazbin #x reader #reader insert #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #forbidden love

[queenimmadolla]

hope you're taking requests cause hear me out: what about reader waking up from a nap and eddie goes to hug her and realizes that she's really angry because she had a nightmare where he cheated on her with another girl. He's like wtf and she's like yeah you know what you did asshole (except he doesn't). Pls i am so in love with joseph quinn that i've been thinking about this all day 😩

I can't blame you, I think about him all day, too. This one was quite easy for my fingers to runaway with. Hope you like it!

𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: little bit of angst, imagined infidelity, plenty of comfort and fluff.

Your eyes glare daggers at the back of Eddie’s head, simultaneously willing him to look at you while also kind of wanting his hair to spontaneously combust into flames. You were curled up on his bed, bundled up in blankets with your head pressed into one of his flat ass pillows. You’d been awake for a good ten minutes, having ‘accidentally’ fallen asleep when Eddie brought you over after school and you immediately settled into his bed with the excuse that you were simply resting your head and would not fall asleep on him, fully knowing that was your intention from the moment you’d sealed your fate last night and watched The Dark Crystal again. You’d stayed up until almost 3:00 a.m. to finish it. But it wasn’t your fault! You couldn’t be blamed, it was due back at Family Video and your mom planned on dropping off the rentals on her way to work so you had to squeeze in one last watch, for Fizzgig.

You were regretting it now as a mixture of anger and anxiety swirled deep in your stomach, you’d had a bad dream, a nightmare. Not anything gory or violent, although you thought you may have preferred to have Freddy make a shish kabob out of you or even Jason shanking you with his machete, anything over seeing Eddie cuddled up with a girl who most definitely wasn’t you. The longer you stare at the back of his head, at the frizzy mess of curls while he scribbles fervently in his DnD notebook on the ground, back leaning up against the bed, the more you think about the evil scene you’d been forced to witness in your own damn dream. It felt so real, and you hated it.

You’d been on your way out of the school, easily maneuvering through the crowd also headed for the school entrance to flood out into the parking lot where you knew Eddie would be waiting for you by his van. Only he wasn’t waiting for you. He had Roxy Campbell—the pretty, stupid Volleyball player who made her interest in Eddie ridiculously clear despite the fact that he was yours—pressed up against his van. It was obviously an intimate moment, you could see her stupid, pretty blue eyes staring coyly up at him through her lashes as he pressed his forehead to hers, whispering something that made the corners of her lips curl up into a flirtatious smile as she reached a finger, you wanted very desperately to break, up to twirl a lock of his hair around before she grasped the back of his head and yanked him down to meet her in an open mouthed kiss.

Your eyes had shot open the moment you had felt your dream heart plummet from its place in your chest to a deep, dark cavern you didn’t know existed in you. Your actual heart was beating wildly, tears already prickling at your waterline regardless of having just woken up. And despite your biggest fear coming true in a hellish nightmare, your Eddie wasn’t making out with Roxy by his van. Yet.

You’d allowed yourself to just lay there as your anger brewed, mind racing with various scenarios regarding what the dream could have meant; all of them coming to the conclusion that Eddie fucking sucked. The girls on the Volleyball team were well known for their asses, mainly because of those ludicrously tight, booty shorts they wore, but your ass was significantly better than Roxy’s and you both knew it. Along with being with Eddie, it was one of the reasons why she despised you and you were proud of that. So why would Eddie want her instead of you?

Think of the devil, Eddie glances over his shoulder, his dumb beautiful, baby cow eyes lighting up the moment he realizes you’re awake.

You scowl back and hiss out, “Bitch.”

Then you yank the blankets up just below your nose and roll onto your other side, leaving your back to him.

Eddie’s mouth drops open, eyes wide in disbelief at the sudden anger you were directing at him. The fuck did he do?

“Excuse me?” He closes the notebook, before tossing it and his pen aside as he stands and leaps onto the bed. You pay him no mind, scowl deepening as you’re jostled by his actions. Eddie doesn’t let that stop him; despite how tense you forced your body to be, he drags you into his arms, attempting to cuddle you.

“I didn’t quite catch that, wanna repeat it for me?” He mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck as he presses a kiss just below your jaw. You refuse to budge, aware that he’d heard you in the first place. When you don't respond, Eddie just keeps pressing kisses to your skin, nose brushing up against your neck as he begins to trail kisses up towards your ear. “I said say that again, baby.”

But you refuse to comply, it was obvious he was daring you to repeat your insult, goading you to give him a reason to snap. Normally, you loved to play his games, but you weren’t in the mood now.

“‘Lemme alone, don’t act like you don’t know.” You demanded, voice muffled by the blankets but you knew he heard you when he went taut and then he pulls away, a ring covered hand grabbing your shoulder to press your back to the mattress, forcing you to stare up at him.

Eddie’s eyebrows were pulled together in exasperation as he glowers down at you. In any other circumstance, you’d find him and your current position ridiculously hot but right then you could only feel satisfaction at having got on his nerves. Serves him fucking right.

“Okay, what the fuck is your problem?” Eddie cuts straight to the point. He’d tried playing nice, but he knew you; knew you wouldn’t succumb to his seduction, encouragement or coaxing and he knew he didn’t have the patience to wait around for you to eventually tell him what had you so upset because you were prone to holding everything in, happily hanging on to any grudge you could develop, so there was a legitimate chance that you’d just never tell him and hold it against him instead of working it out. You loved to self-sabotage but he wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You!” You lower the blankets, reaching a hand to push him off of you. Eddie was much stronger than you, though. He didn’t budge, still glaring down at you as you try to wiggle away.

“Me?” Eddie’s annoyance morphs into confusion, nose scrunching up as his eyes squint, “What did I do?”

“You kissed her!” This time when you shove at him, Eddie’s body gives away, he allows you to scurry off the bed, though you didn’t do much but crawl towards the dresser, back pressed up against it as you turned to face him, expression still set in a scowl. Despite your current brattiness, Eddie couldn’t help but think about how fucking cute you looked all worked up. Your hair was a mess, but that just made him want to tangle his fingers in it, and your lips were pursed in a pout that he was fighting to not kiss away.

Speaking of kisses, “What?! What are you talking about? I haven’t kissed anyone but you!”

“Roxy!” You spit out, body heating up with your anger.

“I have never, ever kissed Roxy. Nor do I want to, where is this coming from?” Eddie moved to sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread out as he leans his elbows on them, watching you with careful eyes.

“You kissed her in my dream,” you knew the moment you said it, he’d probably think you were being irrational but you didn’t care. He wasn’t the one that had to imagine the person he loved kissing someone else.

Eddie’s exasperation returned, “You’re mad at me for something I did in your dream?” See? You knew it! He was making it seem like you were being childish and maybe you were but, again, you didn’t fucking care!

“How am I supposed to control that?! It was just a nightmare!”

“If it was a nightmare, then why did it hurt my feelings?” You snap back and Eddie softens, he had chalked this all up to you being bratty but it was obvious to him now that you were genuinely upset about it. He could see how glossy your eyes were, and now he could make out the hurt beneath the rage. You’d had a nightmare about something you were insecure about, you were hurt by a version of him—trusting and loving all versions of him—so you lashed out and here he was being an asshole instead of comforting you.

“Dreams mean things, Eddie! This one was a-a bad omen! Or something! Clearly, you want her or you’re interested in her, or there’s some sort of underlying issue!”

“Oh, there’s definitely an underlying issue,” Eddie sighs and stands, making his way over to crouch near you and you tensed further, like you were waiting for him to confirm that you were right and that makes him feel even more guilty, “the love of my life believes there’s a chance that I’d want someone else when I’d rather die and go to my own personal hell where I’m forced to watch a cheer squad composed of clones of Principal Higgins’ in a pep rally, that never ends, than be without her.”

You want to be angry, you really do because the moment your anger is gone you’ll just feel silly but you can feel the tension easing away from your body and you play with your fingers, refusing to meet Eddie’s eyes, “. . . Really?”

Eddie hooks a finger under your chin, tilting it until you’re forced to look at him and you can see the sincerity and love in those pretty, chocolate eyes. You’re positive you’re melting. “I’m in love with you, only you. Told you I’m gonna marry you someday, and I mean that. Besides, Roxy tries to steal Jonathan’s seat in front of me during History sometimes and I’m now keenly aware that she doesn’t wear deodorant or any alternative so I promise you, baby, she is not and has never been your competition. No one compares to you. Even if she did smell decent, you’re the only person I’ll ever want, ‘kay?”

You launch yourself at him and both you and Eddie go crashing to the floor behind him, though he breaks the fall for you, arms winding themselves around your waist to hold you tight against him as you pepper kisses all over his face. When you pull away, you admire the kiss stains, left behind by your lipstick, that map his face and he’s staring up at you, looking absolutely love sick, if he were a cartoon character, his pupils and irises would be heart shaped. You were wrong; Eddie doesn’t suck. He’s the most loving boyfriend to ever exist, and he’s yours. And your Eddie, in the flesh, is better than any Eddie that can exist in your dreams.

“I love you.” You smile, leaning down to nuzzle the tip of your nose against his before giving it a kiss.

Eddie’s hands finally get to tangle in your hair as he angles you down for a kiss, if it can even be called that. He’s smiling too much for you to even do it properly but you don’t really mind. “And I love you. I’d fuck up that other Eddie though, no one hurts my girl’s feelings and gets way with it.”

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Y/N #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson blurb #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson x black!reader #Eddie Munson oneshot #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson x reader angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things vol 2 #Joseph quinn #Joe quinn #Joseph Quinn x reader #Joe Quinn x reader

[moneymasnn]

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly. 

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris. 

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.” 

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage. 

“Y/n?” 

Max. 

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler. 

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table. 

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement. 

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room. 

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel. 

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked. 

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through, 

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward. 

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied. 

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner. 

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing. 

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point. 

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj. 

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder. 

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you. 

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”

#f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #sebastian vettel #george russell #max verstappen #pierre gasly #yuki tsunoda #sergio perez #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #Carlos Sainz #carlando <3 #calando #zak brown #mick schumacher #fernando alonso

[persefolli]

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐧𝐚'𝐯𝐢!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @myheartfollower​, @laylasbunbunny​ , @destinylb, @deadgirl02​

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Get here!” Jake yelled at Lo’ak. “I let the two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders?!”

You hopped off your ikran and walked over to the crowd of Sully’s that stood slumped at another one of Jake's outbursts.

“K-Kiri go help your grandmother with the wounded.”

“My brother is wounded.” She responded.

“Please-Tuk! Go with her. Go!” He continued yelling.

“Father- Sir,” Neteyam said groggily. “I take full responsibility-”

“That's right! Because you are the older brother, you need to act like it.”

“Jake!” You yelled with your eyebrow cocked. “Your son is bleeding!” You interrupted, hoping he would let the boys off just this once.

“Mama it's fine-”

“Gone get patched up.” Jake dismissed Neteyam.

You escorted your older son towards the medical pod, where you continued to overhear Jake yelling.

“Do you understand you almost got your brother killed.”

“Yes sir.”

“You're grounded. No flying for a month.”

This was a regular occurrence for the Sullys. Something would go wrong and Jake would go down the line, one by one, kid by kid, lecturing them. As their mother, you also had to put your foot down at times, but you weren’t as strict as Jake. You began to watch your children slowly fall into a state of depression. They became more tense when Jake entered the room, they were silent during dinners, they didn't even go explore the forest anymore. Even Tuk began hiding her toys, afraid Jake would punish her by taking them away.

Guilt followed you soon after. It was your job to be there for them, and you had managed to let their mental health decline under your watch. You did feel it was your fault, knowing that you sat back so many times and watched Jake snap at your kids.

But you had enough.

“Didn’t I tell you?! Didn't I warn you boy?!” Jake yelled at Lo’ak again. “OFF LIMITS THE SHACK WAS OFF LIMITS!” He stepped closer to the boy and yelled in his face. “You had Tuk! You tryna get your little sister killed?” Lo’ak averted his eyes to you but quickly looked back at his father when he noticed. “Look here boy!” He snapped again.

“Enough.” You walked over and slapped Jake on the shoulder. “Kids go play.” You shooed them out of the shared space.

“Are you serious Y/n?! He went too far this time! Nothing you can say will make this easier on him.” Jake sternly said. “You are his mother! If anything, you need to be watching out for them as much as I do.”

You stepped back, scoffing at your husband's jab. “You calling me a bad mother? Jake, I was fucking scared too! They are children, they will be curious, the world is theirs to explore!” You yelled back. “It’s not their fault our enemy from 14 years ago popped up again! You should be comforting them, not yelling in their faces!”

“They need structure! They don’t have that. None of them, especially Lo’ak, should be fucking up this often!”

“Structure?!” You placed your hands on your hips. “They're fucking scared of you Jake! They don't even call you dad anymore, you're sir! You have to dismiss them like their fucking soldiers! We're a family, not a squadron!” You hissed.

“I don't earn respect, I demand it, especially from my own family.”

“Oh? So I should start calling you Colonel Sully from now on?”

“You're doing too much-”

“No! I'm not-”

“You are! Any other time you sit back and let them do whatever they want. It's like I'm the only parent here! They respect me, can we say the same about you?” You smiled, tears welling in your eyes. Pregnant silence fell between you two, and the tension in the room grew heavy. “I can't do this. Can't do it.” You whispered. “Oh Eywa I didn't want it to ever come down to this.” A few tears slipped from your closed eyes.

“Now what do you suggest?” Jake said snarkily.

“We should split up.”

It felt as if the entire village went silent. Jake’s face, along with his stomach dropped. Panic began to wrap and enclose his throat in its grip. “I can't do this. We can't do this, our kids need a break dammit!” You shouted.

“Hey,” Jake began grabbing at you but you removed your arms each time he made contact. “Hey, Hey, Hey! Y/n baby look at me. Talk to me please.” He began getting desperate.

You looked at him with a deep frown, and tears running down your cheeks. “You don't listen! I have been telling you. I HAVE BEEN TELLING YOU.” You shouted at him.

Jake became more persistent, and now had you in a bear hug, rubbing your back and shushing you. His chest was tight, and he felt like sobbing. The thought of you leaving him? And to know it would be his fault. “I can't! I can't!” You pushed him away and stormed out the pod with tears in your eyes.

That same day, the kids and you came by, grabbing a few items from their rooms before leaving to stay with Mo’at. Jake cried his eyes out that night, having multiple panic attacks and sharp pains in his stomach. He knew he fucked up bad, and what was most disappointing was that it took you threatening to leave him for him to realize that.

Jake needed to look back, deeply reflect on everything you said. He thought back to his kids’s mannerisms, and how they used to act. Lo’ak was the carbon copy of himself, Kiri was down to Pandora, Tuk was an energy ball all around, and Neteyam was cool and collected. He did notice his kids' downturned ears, the silence that appeared when he came around, the fearful staring. It hit him how quiet Tuk had become, and he knew his little one was so hard to shake up.

Jake spent a few nights like this, cheating himself out of sleep and thinking back to all the details he missed.

After a week of moping and thinking, he finally sought you out right before another insurrection. You stood, picking out your arrows to put in the holster that was attached to the ikran. He noticed your fatigued state, how you didn't stand straight, and how it seemed a smile hadn’t appeared on your face since the argument.

“Y/n.” He announced himself. You looked up and sighed, turning to look away from him.

“Can we talk?” He walked closer.

“About what?!” You hissed.

“Everything.”

You huffed and set your bow aside. “Don't move until I get back.” You called out to your team. Jake led you to your once shared home, and turned to face you. You closed the entrance to give the two of you privacy. “I'm sorry.” Jake started. “I should've noticed the signs earlier. I should've communicated my fear of losing them instead of punishing them for my own fears.” You nodded, agreeing with him.

“I let my experiences with the Sky People trigger something in me, causing me to treat you and the kids like the squad I ran back on earth. But you guys aren't my squad, you're my family.” He approached you. “I love you Y/n. I love all of you so much. I will change, I promise I will. I hate that it took you leaving me to realize that.”

You wiped your leaking eyes, and leaned into your husband. A glimpse of the old Jake Sully. One thing you knew was that Jake made sure to keep his promises. Even after the destruction of the home tree he did everything he could to gain your trust again.

“Don't leave me.” He whispered. “Please don’t leave.”

You looked up at him, noses nearly touching each other. “I’m not going anywhere Jake…but you need to apologize to the kids too. Show them that you can act like a father, and treat them with care. Not their Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake placed a quick peck on your nose, before tilting his head and clasping his lips around yours.

---

The attack against the Sky People was successful. The clan was able to get more supplies and resources for the village. “Sully's fall in!” Jake called out as the lot of you landed back on the mountain. You watched your kids exchange looks, before following their father home.

“Everyone have a seat.” Jake ordered them. They sat quickly, and stiffly. Jake squatted, looked down and sighed heavily. “It has come to my attention that the lot of you are afraid of me.”

The kids looked at each other again.

“And I am so sorry I have pushed you to the point of feeling that way towards me.” He apologized. “I just get so-” He began choking up. “I get so scared…when you kids are in danger and out of my reach. I thought maybe putting some structure into you, it would make my job easier.”

“But somehow I managed to turn my entire family against me.” He paused and looked across their faces, before stopping at Lo’ak. “Come here boy.” He stood, and hesitantly walked over to his father, squatting down to reach his height.

“When I was human, I managed to paralyze myself from the waist down. Thinking nobody could tell me nothin cause I knew it all.” He began shaking his head. “I'm so hard on you because I see you doing the same things that led to me being immobile. I want you to become strong, and more responsible. But I love you son, and I never want you to question that.” Jake placed his hand on his younger son's head, embracing him in a fatherly manner.

“Neteyam,” He motioned for him to come next. “I shouldn't burden you. Especially as the oldest. Your siblings don't reflect you, so you no longer need to take responsibility for their mistakes. I do ask that you guide them the best you can. I see you, and I see who you will become.” Neteyam sniffled, folding his lips in to restrain himself from letting his tears slip.

“Kiri, Tuk.” He recruited the last two standing Sullys. They ran over to him and joined the group embrace. “You two are my very special girls. It may be harder letting the two of you go, but I want you to be as free as you want.” He wrapped his arms around all 4 of his children, holding the now crying Sully kids.

You stood, holding your elbows, letting tears slip on your own as the children accepted their father again. Jake opened his eyes, and looked at you. “My wife, my beautiful wife. C’mere.” You knelt down and crawled over to him, joining the family hug he’d initiated.

“I love you all so much.”

#jakesullyxreader #jake sully #jake sully angst #jake sully x reader #angst #avatar2 #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #ATWOW #persefolli #persefolliwrites

[xozombiee]

“𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐄!” | S. GETO

✫ | synopsis: going to a halloween party with your friend, only to get high and fucked in a car after eating canes with a hot ass guy dressed as a priest.

notes: need priest geto so bad omfg like i would literally drop to my knees for five minutes w him! this is also heavy based off of seat taker by @/ coconutdays <3

warnings: dub-con? (they’re just a little high but i’m putting the tag just in case), praise :3 (sweet girl, sweetheart, baby, etc), handjob, riding, p in v without protection, geto eats coleslaw, gojo cause he needs his own warning.

partying was never your thing. you hated the smell of booze, the sight of two people grinding against each other while intoxicated made you wanna vomit, and every guy would stare at you like a piece of meat for sale, even the ones in relationships.

not even the infamous satoru gojo’s parties would lull you into going. just the idea of it was so..eugh. gojo was one of the many guys in a frat. him and his other friends were in it, and were mostly known for always filming themselves trying to drink an entire beer keg in one standing.

so it was safe to say you’d never go out to one. at least until now.

you stand outside a house that blared muffled music out to the streets. the purple cheerleading outfit (the one from jennifer’s body) you wore started to feel tight against your skin. any self confidence you once had started to fade when you took a single glance at the house.

the sound of your friends voice pulled you from your trance, the high pitched sound coming from behind you.

“girl, you’re gonna be fine!” she reassures, though the gleam of mischief in her eye wasn’t that reassuring. “i even got you a bodyguard in case i end up leaving with my man.”

you raise a brow, trying to think of who this bodyguard was. it had to be someone who wouldn’t be drinking. then it clicked. “oh, god. you’re forcing ‘nami to babysit me?” you frown.

she giggles, the feathers on her fembot costume swaying as she did. “he said he’s cool with it! he only comes cause haibara forces him to anyways.” she grins.

an internal groan filled your head as you squeezed your eyes shut. maybe you could pretend to be sick. that could work. nanami would probably fall for it and take you home.

before you could even begin to start pretending to feel ill, your friend grabs your hand. she drags you toward the house with a frightening pace. you wanted to protest, but figure there was no point in it anymore.

when you enter the house, all you see are crowds of people standing. some danced along to the music, which you appreciated that it was actually good.

as your friend drags you through the house, you end up in the kitchen. it’s filled with people either taking shots, smoking, or talking. your friend pours two cups of pink whitney before adding a bit of sprite into it. she hands it to you with a smile. “lighten up!” she says.

drinking your nerves wouldn’t be so bad, but someone would have to take the two of you home. nanami would already be handling haibara since they were roommates, so there was really no one else.

you take light sips out of your cup. the sprite wasn’t mixed well with the vodka, making you cringe on the inside. the sound of the music transitioning makes your friends eyes light up.

“I love this song!” she shouts before she quickly grabs your hand and starts to pull you to where everyone was dancing.

in the process of being dragged by her tiny figure on light speed mode, you accidentally bump into someone. your drink spills out of your cup onto them. with widening eyes, your gaze switches to an infamous white haired male.

of course you would be the one to spill your drink on satoru gojo.

you quickly apologize as your friend rushes back to the kitchen to grab a hand towel. when she comes back, she pats it at his bare skin that held suspenders along his shoulders. “i’m so sorry! it was my fault.” she apologizes once more.

a firefighter costume..honestly, what did you expect?

gojo takes in your friends appearance, smirking slightly to himself. “it’s alright, sweetheart. don’t sweat it.” he reassures.

you roll your eyes at his words. before you can make a snarky comment about his bad flirting, the sound of a low voice comes from behind gojo.

“having fun, satoru?” he asks with a raised brow.

the person wore a priest outfit, hair half up into a bun while the rest hung around his shoulders. you almost choke on your almost-empty drink at the sight.

gojo grins at his friend, “yeah. you?”

the man sighs, glancing at your friend. “if i had known all you needed was someone to spill a drink on you so you’d stop pouting, i would’ve done it twenty minutes ago.”

the white haired male laughs before bending down to your friends ear. he whispers something that causes her to giggle and nod her head in reply. she discards the small towel onto the kitchen island before attempting to turn to you.

“go get nanami! i’ll find you guys when i’m done!” she shouts as she gets dragged away toward the crowd of people dancing.

you watch them with disdain held in your gaze. it only took five minutes before she was whisked away. you’re not surprised though, any girl would’ve fell for that spell. even you.

“so, you’re friends with kento?”

swallowing the last drop of vodka, you glance at the priest-dressed man in front of you. “yeah. well, i have english with him. we became close friends when we got assigned a project together.” you answer.

he hums, nodding in amusement. “oh. you like him?” he asks out of curiosity.

you furrow your brows, shaking your head. “no, no. i mean, ‘nami’s handsome, but i’m not actively trying to pursue him or anything.” you reassure, feeling nervous underneath this guys gaze.

a laugh falls from his lips in reply to you. the song transitions, and he glances at you.

“wanna dance?”

your eyes widen a bit, brows furrowing in confusion. “me? now?”

he approaches slowly, taking one of the shots left unattended on the counter. “yes, you. the one dressed as a cheerleader. very cliche, by the way.” he teases.

scoffing, you place your cup onto the counter. “coming from the guy dressed as a priest. i’m dressed as jennifer check, by the way.” you retort before walking towards the crowd.

he follows you like a lost puppy, squeezing through the same gaps as you did. when you eventually find a spot in the crowd, you turn to see him there too.

feeling the amount of alcohol start to kick in, you let the music take over your senses. you sing along to the lyrics, some of it barely audible to hear since other people were doing the same.

“SHE DONT WANNA STRIP NO MORE, DONT WANNA HIT THAT POLE!” you shout, giggling a little when your words fumble.

the man in front of you grins, watching you bounce like you’re at a rave. more people begin to join the crowd causing you to stumble into some people behind you.

a hand latches onto you when someone takes a step back and almost makes you fall forward. your eyes meet the priest-dressed man, giving him an embarrassed look.

“you alright?” he asks, helping you stand fully.

you nod in reply, “yeah, thanks.”

when the songs over, there’s a pause within the music as it transitions. you glance at the dark-haired man.

“what’d you say your name was?”

he meets your gaze, “i didn’t. it’s suguru geto.” he answers.

you let out a small ‘oh’ when his name lingers in your head. it sounded familiar. “i’m-”

“i already know.” he interjects with a grin.

a worried look paints your face as you stare at him. geto almost laughs, but bites it back. “i only know because i have english with you, too.”

english? when was he..oh. he was in your english class.

“i’m sorry— i didn’t realize that was you.” you apologize, feeling guilty despite only ever seeing the back of his head. and it was usually in a bun.

he waves it off, “it’s fine.”

when a new song starts to play, your feet ache as you try to move. scrunching your nose up in pain, you glance at geto. “wanna get out of..this?” you ask, gesturing to the people around you.

he smiles and nods before taking your hand. geto leads you out of the crowd, dragging you to a less packed area. as you walked, slowly, you realize how big the frat house was.

geto leads you outside to the pool area where some people sat around. they all were either smoking, or just hanging out and enjoying the cool autumn air.

the dark-haired man sits you down onto the pool chairs. he sits across from you on the one beside it, grabbing your ankles. he takes off the uncomfortable boots (that you purchased for costume accuracy) slowly. setting them on the ground beside you, he lets your feet sit on his knees.

“better?” he asks.

you nod at him, “yeah. thanks.”

he gives you a smile in response. “we can switch if you want. i’ll let you wear mine for the rest of the night.” he offers.

one of your brows raise as you glance at his feet sitting on the ground. “i dunno if your feet will fit in my boots.”

geto laughs, “satoru and i are the same size, so i’ll take one of his.”

a small ‘oh’ falls from your lips, not thinking of that. glancing back at geto, your head tilts onto your shoulder.

“how’d you even become friends with him anyway?” you ask out of curiosity. “you don’t seem like the type to hang around him.”

“i don’t seem like the type?” geto questions with an amused expression. “well, if that’s the case, you haven’t really met me then, sweetheart.”

you let out an exaggerated sound of disgust, making geto laugh. “me and satoru have been friends since primary school. been stuck together ever since.”

“ohh..so you’re like besties?” you ask, giving him a grin. “how cute.”

geto rolls his eyes, matching your grin. “more like a brother. his family is kinda..rough, so i hope to bring some comfort for him.”

you nod in understanding. having someone like geto seemed nice. he seemed like the type you could be free around, which is what gojo probably needed from his silver spoon family. you’d hoped to do the same for your friends as geto did his.

the silence between the two of you feels calm. it’s not awkward, like you’d expected.

that was until a certain blue eyed male comes outside and interrupts.

“suguru!” he coos, coming over to the pool chairs with a blunt in one hand, lighter in the other.

your eyes widen a bit when you realize he was alone. where the hell was your friend who he just walked away with thirty minutes ago?

“where the hell is she, gojo?” you ask with a worried look.

the white haired man glances at you as he thinks. the nonchalance on his face then turns to a grin when he realizes, a small ‘oh’ falling from him.

“she’s with shoko.” he replies carelessly.

you sigh in relief, your body relaxing against the chair. your eyes dart over to gojo once more as his lighter flicks against his thumb.

when the flame ignites, he pulls the small torch to the blunt between his lips. he inhales it slowly before exhaling, watching the smoke fall from his mouth.

he passes it to geto, who glances at you as he brings it close to his lips. “you smoke?”

you’d smoked before, but it wasn’t something you did all the time. you always preferred edibles over inhaling the smoke since you’d embarrass yourself with a fit of coughs.

shaking your head, you politely decline. “i do, just don’t really like it. thanks though.”

you watch gojo pout a little at your refusal. “aw, come on, babe. just one hit.”

geto hits him softly, “she said no, satoru. don’t force her.”

a sudden feeling of anxiety began to pick at your nerves. you extend your hand to geto, gesturing to the blunt. he looks at you with confusion.

“i’ll do it just once.” you assure him.

he hesitantly passes it to you, watching as you bring it your lips. you inhale it slowly, that familiar burn scratching at your throat. pulling it away from your lips, you slowly exhale and manage to not choke yourself to death.

“atta girl.” gojo grins, coming over to take the blunt from your hand.

as he does so, you swallow harshly to hopefully relieve the pressure in your throat. geto spares you a glance. he nudges your foot to get you to look at him. “you good?”

you nod in reply, “mhm. s’just been awhile.”

geto nods, looking over at gojo who was smoking it like a pro. the white haired male passes it to him once more, the blunt moving into his long fingers. geto leans over to you before inhaling it. he pulls it back from his lips after a long hit, blowing the smoke into your face.

“that better?”

you nod slowly, eyes taking a glance at his lips. “still prefer edibles..but yeah, that isn’t bad.” you reply.

he grins, pulling away. geto turns his head to gojo, raising his brows as he takes another, smaller hit. “you still got them gummies from the other night?”

gojo nods, “yeah, they’re in my room.”

“go get ‘em for her.”

the other male raises a brow before getting up and doing as asked, walking off back toward the house. you watch him move quickly, as if ready to get back to the two of you.

turning your attention back to geto, you give him a small smile. “didn’t take you for a smoker either.”

“oh? how so?”

you shrug, looking over at the pool as the lights lit up underneath the surface. the blue hue it held was bright. “just a hunch i was having. too bad i was wrong though.”

he matches your small smile, looking down at his lap. “well, you’re not that far off. i don’t smoke like satoru. any time he gets pissed off, he’s gotta have a smoke. he swears it’s not an issue though..”

a small giggle falls from you as the sliding door to the pool area opens again. gojo appears and approaches the two of you with a small strawberry flavored gummy bag in hand. he waves it before passing it to you.

“anything else, my liege?” he asks geto, making the darker haired man chuckle.

gojo plops down beside you as you open the bag. the small gummies have a strong scent that immediately hits your nose. gojo beats you, putting his hand into the bag as it sits in your lap.

he pulls one out, popping it into his mouth. you mirror his actions, placing your own on your tongue. the sweetness takes over the ache in your throat, causing your tastebuds to go crazy. you go to grab another before gojo stops you, giving you a look.

“not too much, sweetheart. i can tell you’re a lightweight.” he says, sounding more harsh than he probably intended.

geto glances at him, “she’s fine, satoru. she can’t get high off one.”

you raise a brow at the white haired male, keeping eye contact with him as you dig back through the bag and pull another out. you open your mouth, bringing the sweet treat to your tongue. gojo watches it sit between your teeth before you close your mouth and begin to chew it.

as the two start to talk, you tune their voices out and look around in a daydream. the edibles start to kick in and you feel a little dizzy, which was normal for you when you got high.

a loud crash from inside the house interrupts them, and gojo gets up with a huff. “if these assholes broke my shit, i swear to god—” he mutters as he walks away.

geto glances back at him with a chuckle, the blunt between his lips (though it’s now smaller). he turns to you, watching your dilated pupils stare into his.

“you feelin’ it?”

you manage to nod in reply, making him flash his cat-like grin. “figured. satoru always gets the strong stuff.” he laughs.

an ache begins to run though you as he speaks. your back feels uncomfortable in the slouched position you’re in, and your legs are going numb from the odd position on top of getos thighs. you take your phone out of the pocket in your skirt, looking at the time.

“shit. it’s late.” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

geto glances at you, taking one last hit before pushing the bud into the metal of the pool chair to extinguish the fire. “you need a ride home?” he offers.

shaking your head, you shrug. “probably. i dunno where my friend is or when she plans on leaving.” you sigh.

he gently moves your feet from his lap, standing up with a small stretch. “i’ll take ya’ home. let me go grab a pair of satoru’s shoes and we can go, yeah?” he says, meeting your gaze.

you nod in reply, watching him enter the house. it only takes a few minutes before he returns, his black shoes held in his hands while he wore a white pair on his feet. when he approaches, he bends back down to your level, slipping his shoes onto your smaller feet.

he ties them as tight as he can so they won’t slip off as you walk. once he’s done, he stands, grabbing your boots in the process.

geto extends a hand to you, “let’s go.”

you take it, lifting yourself up from the chair. he leads you back into the house, pushing past some people to get to the front door.

the front yard doesn’t have as many cars in front of it as it did when you first got here. geto walks with you along the grass as he heads toward a black car with tinted windows.

he opens the passenger door for you, extending it so you have room to enter. you laugh as he slightly bows when you climb into the car. a moment passes before he reaches the drivers side, getting in himself.

when the car starts, you take in the inside of it. he kept it clean. there wasn’t any trash (except for a gum wrapper in the cup holder), and it smelt nice. you hum as his heated seats begin to warm your skin.

a soft tap at your thigh breaks you from your daze. you glance at geto with a half-lidded gaze as he holds his phone.

“what’s your address, babe?” he says quietly, not threatening to go an octave above what his voice was at.

you take his phone, slowly typing in the address before handing it back to him. he nods to himself, setting the phone onto the phone mount at his dashboard.

the car begins to move, and your eyes watch as the houses leaves your line of vision. getos music plays in the car at a low volume. you hum along to it, watching the street lights as you pass them.

“it’s only one. wanna go get something to eat?”

you turn your head to glance at geto. eating sounded good. really good actually. but you didn’t bring your wallet.

“i don’t have any money on me.” you reply.

geto chuckles, “i didn’t ask if you had money, i asked if you wanted food.” he says.

a feeling of warmth spread within you at his words. was food the way to your heart? ..possibly. you smile at him, eyes scanning his figure.

“fine, but don’t go to taco bell. they gave me food poisoning last week.”

he turns his head, giving you an amused expression. “noted. i was thinking more of canes anyway. that good with you?”

you nod in reply, leaning forward to turn the music up. childish gambinos voice plays out the speakers, your head moving to the beat.

turning to geto, you lip-sync to the song. he smiles at you, watching the way you lean closer to him from across the console.

“you always act like this when you’re high?”

giving him a small pout, you roll your eyes. “i’m barely high.”

“so you just act like this?” he shoots back.

“no.”

you enter town, the car driving by multiple buildings and restaurants. geto takes a left into the canes parking lot, driving toward the ordering speakers. a few buzzes from your phone catch your attention. you look at your notifications to see your friend spamming you with texts.

favorite slut<3 : WHERE ARE YOU?????

favorite slut<3: oh nvm satoru said you went with geto

favorite slut<3: OKK I SEE U🫣

you roll your eyes at her texts. fingers typing back quickly, you reply to ease her previous worries.

you: i’m good

you: also ‘satoru’??? u guys fuck lmfao?

she starts to text back after you hit send. she was probably going to go on a whole rant about gojo. a hand brushes your thigh again, causing you to glance up once more.

“what you want, hun?” geto asks, one hand on the steering wheel as he glances at you.

your brain goes quiet for a moment before you realize what he was asking. “uh- the three finger combo is good. get me some water with it.”

“you sure? i’ll get anything you want.”

if you had no self respect, you’d be dripping right now.

“mhm.” you hum. “that’s all i want.”

he moves back toward the window, saying the order to the worker. your phone buzzes again, but you don’t feel like answering at the moment.

geto pulls the car toward the window, sliding his card to the worker. they were surprisingly quick with your food, giving geto the bag as soon as he pulled up.

he hands it to you, thanking the worker before driving off. his eyes search for an empty parking space before slotting the car into one. he parks the car, turning to you as you sort through the bag.

you open one of the boxes, seeing a serving of coleslaw in the corner. with a disgusted expression, you turn to geto. “oh, you’re a freak. coleslaw? absolutely not.”

geto rolls his eyes, taking the box from you. “you gotta dip the bread into it. that’s what makes it taste good.” he defends.

“nuh uh.”

“fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’? i’m right.” he replies, matching your look of disdain.

you try to hold up a front, but fail as you giggle. “whatever.”

“no, seriously. just try it.”

he hands you a piece of his bread, coleslaw topping it. your face scrunches up in disgust as you take it from him. taking it into your mouth, you chew it quickly before swallowing it.

geto looks at you with anticipation. you glance at him with a defeated gaze.

“fine..it’s okay.” you admit, making him smile. “i’m still not eating that shit though.”

he laughs, “i won’t force you to.”

after sharing another giggle, the two of you eat in silence momentarily. you chew a piece of chicken, glancing at geto. the cross necklace he wore lowly hung from his neck. it shined in the streetlight next to the parking lot.

“what made you wanna go as a priest?” you ask.

he takes a sip of his drink as he thinks. “satoru and i dared each other to wear embarrassing costumes.”

you hum, stifling a laugh. “so the firefighter was your idea?”

“mhm. it was the cringiest in the store. well, besides the sexy pirate one.”

laughing, you take your own sip from your drink. “oh? that would’ve been a sight to see.”

he nods in agreement, watching you smile. you hold his gaze for a moment before looking back at the plate of food in your lap.

“i think the priest is a good look on you. definitely not something you would ever actually be though.” you say, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

geto raises a brow at you, “you think it’s a good look?” he asks.

you roll your eyes playfully. “do i need to repeat myself?”

he discards his plate into the plastic bag, shrugging a little. “the cheerleader is a good look on you, too.” he replies.

a wave of embarrassment rises to your chest. you glance at him, fidgeting with your cup. “you think?”

leaning back against his seat, he turns his head to you. his eyes look you up and down. “yeah. it’s cute.”

you slowly move closer to him, elbows resting on the console. your eyes drop to his lips, a small smirk on your own. “is that why you asked me to dance? thought i was cute?”

he copies your actions, leaning down toward you. your noses almost brushed as he looked down with his hazy, red eyes. “what’d you think, sweetheart?” he answers.

with a face as hot as the sun, you lean forward to connect your lips to his. they feel smooth against yours, the taste of his soda coming onto your taste buds.

one of his hands moves to your jaw, pressing you closer to him. he threads the other through your hair, feeling the texture between his fingertips. you let out a soft whimper when his tongue prods into you mouth for an opening.

you pull away for some air, inhaling quickly before moving to his neck. his flesh was burning on your warm lips. geto lets out a groan in response to you tugging onto the black dress shirt he wore to get better access to his neck.

“baby— hold on, yeah?” he says breathlessly.

geto moves away, hands falling to your hips. he pulls you into his lap, your legs dragging across the car as you sat above him. one of his hands move to push the seat back a bit to give you more room.

you waste no time to attach your lips to his neck again. he lets out another noise when you nip the skin between his shoulder and neck. you drop your hands from his waist, moving toward his belt.

pulling away, you look up at him. “can i?” you whisper.

he nods quickly, huffing like he’d just ran a mile. you undo his belt, listening to it jingle as you push it to the side. your hands dip into the waistband of his underwear, feeling the hardness of his cock underneath it.

geto squeezes your hips when you run your fingers over it, grazing over the tip. you warm him up a bit before pulling it out from the boxers he wore. he was big, bigger than you would’ve expected.

as you start to pump it gradually, geto hisses quietly. his precum oozes from the tip, soaking your palm. soft moans from geto fill the car, making the uneasy feeling in your stomach transfer to the cotton panties you wore.

he shook in your grasp, his fist bundling up the cloth of your costume. geto let’s out shuddered breaths and shaky moans when you speed up. his hips move upward into your palm, his eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure took over.

you can feel him get close as he twitches in your hand. he looks up at you when you release him, his eyes blown out with lust. you move closer to him, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

his fingers move underneath the skirt of your costume. he palms the front of your underwear, feeling the slick you held. “oh, sweet girl. i haven’t even done anything to you.” he coos.

the cool air hits your cunt when he steadily pulls them off after getting permission. he kneads the flesh of your thighs, looking up at you in admiration.

“you sure you wanna do this? we don’t have to, y’know?” he mutters.

a smile forms at your lips, feeling your heart swell a little. you give him a nod before leaning down and pressing your lips with his.

geto moves your hips closer to his, running two of his fingers across your slit. a shuddered moan falls from you and into his lips. he uses the slick to prep himself, rubbing it along his length.

he pulls away from you, moving his lips to your ear. “i’m goin’ in, ‘kay?”

you give him another nod as he aligns his tip with your entrance. when he pushes in a little, you let out a small sigh. inch by inch, he fully slides into your pussy as his hands caged around your hips.

the dark-haired man lets you adjust to his size for a moment, brushing the hair out of your face while you looked down at him with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, baby. take your time.” he whispers, caressing your cheek.

god, does he even realize what he’s doing?

once you give him the ‘ok’ to keep going, you lift your hips slowly before easing back onto him. you watch him firsthand as his mouth drops open and his eyes rolling back as a broken moan pushed past his lips.

it was filthy and euphoric, and it made you lift your hips again and slam back down just to hear him moan. geto’s body trembled, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure taking over his body.

“suguru..” you whisper, mouth dropping as he manages to brush the sweet spot inside you without even trying.

one of his hands come back to your face, gripping your jaw to pull you down to him. he shoves your lips into his, a groan falling from him.

"so fucking perfect." geto manages to say between kisses, and you reward him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts.

the intensity of the moment heightened as his grip tightened on your skin, his kiss silencing you completely. with each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.

he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and geto can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.

your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

geto rubs smooth circles into your hips, huffing out as you did too. “you alright, baby?” he asks, looking up at you.

you nod, catching your breath before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “v’never came that quick before.” you murmur.

he smiles a little, running a hand into your hair. “wanna see if i can do it again?”

#xozombiee #i love men #this is a cry for help #jjk suguru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #i love geto #men need to dress as priests more often #jujustsu kaisen x reader #i’m so normal #guys believe me i’m okay in the head #mental illness

[love-bitesx]

what would hobie do in a situation where reader, who’s a new spider person (like pavitr, like they got bitten by the spider few months ago or smth) had just went through their canon event?? whether it be what he would do after the event or during is completely up to you, im just curious and i have hobie brainrot rn LMAOAOAO

ofc if u don’t wanna do this request thats completely fine, have a good rest of ur day/night!!

hobie x gn!reader

warnings: death, family member dying, very (very) brief description of a dead body, but nothing graphic at all. hobie just wants u to be safe n happy :( he’s been through that grief and his heart hurts knowing you’re abt to go through it too :(

you couldn’t move.

your watch emitted a blaring, shrill alarm, miguel desperately trying to make contact, but you were frozen. bones aching, numb, all you could do was stare at the scene in front of you with watery eyes.

“i-,” your body betrayed you, catching your words as they try to escape, clawing at the walls of your throat as they get dragged back down into the growing pit in your stomach. falling to your knees, numb to the feeling of rubble against your bones, you picked up a slab of concrete and threw it to the side.

“uncle ben.”

it was all you could muster, voice small and hoarse, and if a mouse had squeaked at the same time, you would’ve lost in comparison. shaking hands rising to touch his face, a strangled choke broke out at the cold, lifeless skin that met your trembling fingertips. he looked strangely peaceful, sending a bolt of pain directly to your heart.

“no-no, please, uncle ben,” your thoughts unravelled, grabbing at his shirt, as if you could shake the life back into his bones, “please, i can’t do this– i can’t do this without you.”

you’d only been a “spider person” for 4 months. only 4 months of navigating the most isolating, terrifying journey with no one but your dear uncle by your side. he’d grown with you, seeing you muster from dangling off climbing frames in playgrounds as a child, to scaling buildings and saving lives. not a day went past when he wasn’t there with you, holding your hand through the unfathomable changes.

it all happened so quickly. one moment, you’re fighting an anomaly, bashing around the streets of your earth, leading the monster further away from the crowds – until it threw itself, headfirst into a neighbouring building, office blocks, you think to yourself, nothing too serious. that is, until you trap it, ready to send it back to miguel with ease, and lay eyes on the scene it left behind. people crushed under concrete, glass shattered the streets, and a familiar face unconscious on the pavement.

“y/n,” a voice sounds from behind you, but your soul is too busy trying to claw it’s way out of your chest to notice, or care. you laid on his unmoving torso, heart ripping at the vacancy of its usual heaving.

“y/n,” it sounded again, and a twang of familiarity shone its way through the darkness.

“he’s–” you sobbed, reluctantly lifting your head, “i couldn’t save him, i– it’s all my fault, hobie.”

“shh, come ‘ere,” you barely felt his arms wrapping around you, your body was numb. it’s like you were a ghost, haunting your own skin – a poltergeist in the wind.

regardless, you fell into him, gripping his leather vest until your knuckles were white. sobbing into his chest, his ringed hand came up to calm you, running it softly over the curves of your spine, voice low as he whispers into you, “it ain’t your fault, love.”

“you two, you need to get back—” miguel’s voice came booming from a growing portal, spider-people spilling into your dimension, ready to bring the anomaly home, until hobie cut him off sternly.

“fuck off, miguel,” he spat, pulling his arms tighter around you, feeling as though if he held you close enough, he could shelter you from the grief. maybe, if he kept you in his arms, he could carry the burden of your loss on his own studded shoulders. but, he knew he couldn’t, he’d been there before – they all had. all he could do was be there for you, a hand to hold and shoulder to cry on.

and so that’s exactly what he did.

“love, gonna come stay with me for a bit, yeah?” he whispered into your hair, and you nodded weakly, his heart surged, “just ‘til you feel a’ight.”

he placed a kiss – gentle, safe – to your forehead.

“i’ll look after you, darlin’.”

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown drabble #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown angst #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie headcanons #hobie #astv hobie #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderpunk #spiderman x reader #spider punk #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #love-bitesx #— mine

[sidekick-hero]

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my writing #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #drummer steve harrington #pickup note

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part five

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst, 18+, implied smut.

word count: 4k

a/n: it's me, the angst goblin. back to collect more tears.

You spend the rest of the week with your head down. 

Avoiding Jenna is easy - she’s avoiding you too. Ducking out when you enter a room. Headphones on, the world muted. 

The only person she’s interested in talking to is Emma. Who does nothing but freeze her out. 

You feel bad for her, you do. You’d change it if you could. But you have problems of your own. Namely - yours and Emma’s new arrangement. 

Friends with benefits would be an apt name if Emma considered you a friend. But she doesn’t. Not anymore.

You’re a booty call. A warm body. Revenge. 

It doesn’t feel good. 

“Do you want to maybe stay?” You ask, chewing your lip as Emma pulls her clothes back on. 

It’s late, near twelve, Emma’s visit unplanned. 

She’d knocked on your door and had you pressed into the mattress not thirty minutes ago. And now she’s already halfway out the door. 

“I have to shoot tomorrow,” Is all she says. You sit up, try to tug at her hand, but she’s too far out of reach. You pout, slightly.  

“My place is closer,” You reason. 

She pauses. Surveys you. 

“My moisturizer is at home.” 

“I have moisturizer.” You offer, helpfully. 

But it isn’t about that. Even you, naive idiot to a fault, can tell that. 

She smiles at you in a way that doesn’t really feel like a smile. It feels like a slap in the face. Then, she’s pulling on her shoes. 

“Bye, YN.” 

This continues for much of the week.

You’re not really sure what you expected when you agreed to this thing you have going with Emma, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

She’s holding back, taking what she wants from you but with none of the intimacy. You don’t speak much on set, you don’t speak much at all. She’s busy laughing with Hunter and Joy and Johnna and you’re an afterthought. 

The last person she calls when she wants to talk. The first person she calls when she wants to fuck. 

And it is fucking. Quick, rough, not even a kiss goodbye. 

And you can’t be mad because it’s what you had agreed on. 

“You and Emma seem to be getting on better.” Georgie says one day at lunch. It’s just you and him - Emma’s commandeered Joy and Hunter, Jenna sits by herself nowadays. Oddly enough, of all people, Georgie’s sort of become your confidant.   

At this you snort, mouth full of soup. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Or not?” 

“We’re friends with benefits.” You say, “Without the friend part.” 

Georgie shrugs. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” 

You bite your lip. Look over to where Jenna’s sitting. She looks miserable, earphones in, staring at the back of Emma’s head like if she stares hard enough Emma will come over and talk to her. 

“How’s Jenna?” 

Georgie looks away. 

“She’s… Jenna. Wants to be alone. Lost in her work or whatever.” 

You hum. Take another sip of your soup. 

Georgie leans in. 

“I thought Emma would have forgiven her by now. I mean- she won, right? She got the girl.”

He’s looking at you like he wants you to confirm it. You swallow. 

“I don’t think anyone’s the winner here.” 

Georgie looks at you piercingly. 

“Could you maybe… talk to her? Emma? It just seems so silly to fight over this. They were really good friends-”

You sigh. Drop your spoon to the bowl. Whatever you said, Emma would do the opposite. She’s punishing you too in her own weird way. But Georgie’s looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t deny a favor to the only friend you have left. 

“I’ll try.” You say, half-heartedly. 

-

You bring it up a little later. 

Emma approaches you when shooting wraps, slings an arm over your shoulder. She kisses you and tells you to come back to her place. 

It would surprise you, except you know the show is not for you. 

Jenna’s only three feet away. Emma’s kiss is hard. She’s marking you. Like a dog pissing on it’s territory. 

You glance away and try to pretend like you don’t see the look on Jenna’s face. 

“I was thinking…” You say as you trail behind Emma into her apartment, “That maybe it’s time you made up with Jenna.” 

The entire car ride home you pondered how to bring it up. You considered trying to weave it in naturally, or even hinting. Maybe making up some bullshit story about one of your long-lost friends who you wished you’d just tried with. But Emma is no-nonsense these days. She’d see through it. 

So you take the bulldozer approach. 

Emma’s not a mean person, this you know. Surely she’s seen the way Jenna’s been acting - withdrawn, quiet, heartbroken. You watch as Emma stops and turns slightly to look at you. The look on her face is unreadable - she’s either about to break down in tears or scream at you to get out of her apartment. 

You swallow and hurry through your words, hoping you can appeal to her humanity. 

“It’s just - she’s really upset, have you noticed? Not about me. About you. She cares about you and she’s really sorry-”

Emma raises a hand, cutting you off. 

“Don’t talk to me about Jenna,” She says, voice flat, “Don’t you dare talk to me about Jenna.” 

You blink, shoulders falling limp. 

“I just-”

“I hope she’s upset,” Emma says, eyes ablaze, “She betrayed me in the worst way, do you even understand that?” 

Silence fills the room. You contemplate dropping it. You’re on thin ice as it is. But Jenna had seemed so sad today, and you can’t help but want to fix it. 

“It was my fault. Not hers. I kissed her-” 

A lie she sees through immediately. Emma tilts her head. 

“So go kiss her again. Go fuck her for all I care. Bring her up again and we’re done. Okay?” 

She throws her bag down, a little violently. Runs a hand through her blonde hair. 

“Alright.” You say, a little resigned, “I’m sorry.” 

You hadn’t expected it to work, but it feels like a loss all the same. You’ve aggravated her now, you can tell by the way she kicks off her shoes, glancing up at you like she’s not sure why she invited you. 

“Let’s make this quick.” Emma says, taking off her jacket, “I have a date tonight.” 

At this you stare. Blink back at her, wonder if you’ve misheard her. 

“A date?” You ask. You can’t keep the jealousy from seeping in your tone, “With who?”

“Johnna.” Emma shrugs, “She asked me after work.”

It stings a little. When Emma had told you no strings you hadn’t expected her to to and find a new yarn of wool to tug at. 

“But I thought we had plans.” You say, a little put out. 

She shoots you a look. 

“We’re going to fuck, that’s not having plans.” 

“So you’re going to fuck me and then go out on a date with another girl?” You say, voice a little high, “Does she know you’re sleeping with someone else before your date?” 

Emma rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t act the part of the jealous girlfriend,” She says, “You already blew that, remember?” 

Your stomach flips, and not in a good way. It’s overtaking you, confusion, jealousy, hurt. You’re starting to feel like a two-dollar hooker off a roadside. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little inconsiderate?” You say, “I don’t think Johnna would appreciate you fucking me and then sharing a bowl of Pad Thai with her-” 

“Johnna knows the situation,” Emma says, flatly, “I thought you did too. I’m not your girlfriend, I’ll go on as many dates as I want.” 

Tension fills the room. You don’t recognise her. How could this be Emma? The sweet girl with the pretty blue eyes who had blushed when you touched her hand for the first time. And now she was up for fucking two different girls in one night? 

What had you done to her? 

“Fine.” You say, swallowing. Your ears are ringing, unpleasantly,  “Have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You grab your things, try to quell the tide of emotions that flush through you. 

Emma stares. Disbelief in her eyes. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you getting yourself pretty for Johnna.” You snap. Immediately you regret it. You’ve shown your hand. You’re jealous, even though you have no right to be. She doesn’t placate you. 

“Fine,” She says, voice clipped, “See you tomorrow.” 

-

They’re laughing when you get on set in the morning. 

Emma and Johnna. 

Hands touching near the make-up chairs. You watch, eyes narrowed from the craft services table. Dump far too much Mac and Cheese onto your plate. 

You barely notice as Jenna slips in beside you. 

“What’s going on there?” Jenna asks, voice casual, “I thought you two were a thing?” 

You’re not expecting her. You blink over at her, a little confused. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other.” You say. 

“We’re not supposed to kiss each other,” Jenna says as she pries some food onto her plate, “Talking isn’t cheating.” 

“It’s the talking that usually leads to the cheating,” You say, “Besides, Emma and I aren’t exclusive, she can talk to anyone she wants.” 

Jenna looks up at you, slight frown on her face. 

“So she is seeing Johnna?” 

You avert your gaze. This is the last person you want to have this conversation with. But Jenna doesn’t relent. 

“I’m confused.”

“You and me both,” You mutter. You reach for a rogue grape, wrestle it onto your plate, “Look, Jenna - I know we’re just talking, but if you want Emma to forgive you, maybe we shouldn’t. Like at all. I tried to bring you up yesterday and she flipped-”

“You brought me up?” Jenna asks, voice soft, “What did she say?”

“She’s pissed.” You don’t try to sugarcoat it. “At you. And at me, but mostly you.” 

Jenna’s looking at you, a little mournful. Like a wounded puppy. 

“What can I do?” She asks. Her shoulders are dropped, like she’s resigned to her fate. 

You don’t know the answer. 

You tell her so. 

Her eyes are downcast. Her lip twitches. And then she’s looking up at you, something different in her eyes. 

“Are you sleeping with her?” She asks, voice filled with curiosity. A touch of jealousy. She asks like she doesn’t want to know the answer. So you avoid the question.  

“Let’s not speak anymore.” You say, chewing your lip. You glance over at Emma. She’s smiling, laughing at something Johnna’s said. She hasn’t seen yours and Jenna’s clandestine chat, “It’s too hard.” 

It’s weighted and Jenna seems to understand the implication. It feels wrong talking to Jenna with Emma just a few feet away. But it’s also hard to speak to her and not want to push her up against the craft services table. Kiss her until you’re both out of breath. If not speaking to Jenna helped rid yourself of those thoughts you were willing to do it. For both of your sakes. 

“Okay.” Jenna says. She finishes filling her plate, hovers awkwardly, “Let’s not speak.” 

And you don’t. 

Another week passes. 

You and Georgie hang out at lunch. He distracts you with tales of his teenage years, tells you about the slew of girls he’s trying and failing to date. 

It makes you feel a little better. Like you’re not the only one stuck at a romantic crossroad. 

You and Jenna don’t speak, as you discussed. Emma and Johnna get closer. 

And you hate every second of it. 

You lay back naked in your bed one night, bedsheets pulled to your neck. Emma’s made you cum, twice, but you’re hardly satisfied. Your stomach churning and your mind running a mile a minute. She’s pulling on her jeans, and all you want is for her to stay. 

“Are you going to see Johnna?” You ask, a little hesitant. 

Emma looks over at you and pauses. 

“I’m going home.” She says, simply. She tugs on her shoes. 

You bite your lip. 

“You could stay?” You offer, “We could order food and watch bad 80s movies.” 

“YN-“ 

“Please,” You urge, “I miss you.” 

“We just spent the last hour together.” She says, voice neutral. 

You shake your head. She doesn’t understand, you miss her. The Emma who sends you stupid memes, the Emma who giggles when you tell a joke, even if it’s not funny. The Emma who had kissed you that night by the pool, who had been honest enough to tell you she’d been thinking about it for a while. 

Not this Emma. This cold, aloof, doppelganger. You don’t want her. You don’t even like her. 

“You weren’t here, even if you were.” You say, “You don’t talk to me at work, we definitely don’t talk outside of work. You won’t even kiss me while we’re…. while we’re fucking.” You swallow, trail off. “I’m starting to feel like a prostitute or something.” 

Emma crosses her arms. 

“If the shoe fits.” 

You blink back at her. It hurts, and the look in her eyes tells you she meant it to hurt. You swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to cry in front of her. 

“When did you get so mean?” You ask, voice wavering, “When I first met you, you were this, sweet, happy girl, and now-“ 

“You fucked around with my best friend behind my back. That’s when.” Emma says, her voice flat. 

You swallow. Hold the sheets tighter to your chest. 

If this is the only way you get Emma, you don’t want her. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” You say, thinking hard, “You can hate me forever, maybe I deserve it. But I don’t thinking hate-fucking me is helping either of us. I feel like shit every time you leave. And you - you just close up. It’s like you’re a different person.”

“What are you saying?” Emma says, voice low, “You want me to kiss you and be romantic with you, and let you touch me, why? So you can close your eyes and pretend I’m Jenna?” 

You stare for a moment. Your heartbeat a dull thud. Something coils in your chest, twisting your heart in pieces. 

“You should go.” You say, voice hollow. 

It must show on your face - the kind of emotion that’s toiling deep in your chest. She stares a moment, something flickering behind her eyes. 

“Beetlejuice.” She says, suddenly. She’s blinking, hands falling limp at her side, suddenly her mask is gone. 

“What?”

“We should watch Beetlejuice. And order Chinese.” 

You blink back at her, not understanding. She slips off her coat and unties her shoes. Slips under the covers with you, her arm grazing yours. 

“You’re right,” She says, suddenly. Her eyes hesitant,  “I’m being- I have been being mean. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands, suddenly shy. 

“This has never happened to me before,” She admits. Her gaze is piercing, “You really hurt me and I just wanted to hurt you back. Both of you.” 

You don’t dare say a thing. It seems almost too good to be true. You don’t want to open your mouth and change her mind. 

She leans in, rests her head on your shoulder. 

“Forgive me?” She’s asking, voice small. 

“Yeah.” You say. You reach out, entwine your fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away, “Least I can do.” 

-

Nothing changes, except everything. 

It isn’t like you can flick a switch and make Emma forgive you for everything. That, you’ve surely ruined. But she stays the entire night, lets you kiss her goodnight. Even lets you make her breakfast in the morning. 

She stops ignoring you at work, stops fucking you like she hates you. 

She even suggests going to parties together, making out on the balcony when you’re both too drunk to see straight. 

But she still disappears every now and then, sometimes for hours on end with Johnna. 

And she still won’t talk to Jenna. 

You watch it happen once more, on Friday game night. 

Hunter’s defrosted to you, a little, invites you personally. And then he rounds on Jenna. 

“Come to game night,” He insists, grabbing her hands, trying to tug her earphones out of her ears, “Please. I know you’re doing your goth-girl-introvert-method-Wednesday thing but we all miss you.” 

You look down at your phone, pretending not to listen. 

Jenna doesn’t look sure. 

“I don’t know, Hunter-” She says, voice gravelly, “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want to make Emma uncomfortable.” 

“Emma said you can come,” Hunter says, eyes sparkling, “I think she’s over it, Jenna. I mean - I doubt she wants to make friendship bracelets with you anytime soon, but she can stand to be in the same room with you. That’s progress, right?” 

At this, you snap your head up. Look over to where Emma’s sitting. She’s laughing with Johnna. Jealousy coils hot through you. It’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. 

“Did she really say that?” Jenna says, chewing her lip. She can’t hide the dash of hope in her voice. 

Hunter nods, smile wide. 

And so here you all are. 

You arrive with Georgie, pour you and him a healthy helping of Rum and Coke. You have a feeling you’ll need it. 

“Cheers,” He says, knocking your glasses together. 

You bite your lip, surveying the room. 

Emma’s already here, in deep conversation with Joy. Johnna and Hunter are setting up the game table. Jenna’s already in the kitchen, pouring out her drink. She looks small by herself, a little sad. Your heart twists, painfully.  

“Do you want to see if she’s okay?” You ask, nudging Georgie, “You mind being her guy, tonight? I know Emma said she could come but-” 

You trail off, not wanting to say it aloud. Emma’s mean-spirit had dwindled, a lot, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t there. 

Georgie looks over, sets his glass down on the table. 

“You’ll be okay?” He asks, genuine concern on his face. 

You nod. 

“I have Emma.” You say, smile tight. 

“Okay.” He says, squeezing your arm, “I’ll look after her. Promise.” 

You wait until Emma’s done with her conversation, then sidle up to her, smile on your face. 

“Hey,” You say, settling down at her side, “You look pretty, tonight.” 

She smiles, presses a kiss to your cheek, “So do you.” 

Johnna’s watching, you can feel her eyes on you. Emma takes your hand and your heart leaps. The smallest of victories. 

And then Hunter’s ushering you all to the table, ready for the first round of Cards of Humanity. At first, it’s fine. You’re careful to lead Emma to the opposite side of the table, well away from Georgie and Jenna. To your chagrin, Johnna manages to slip into the seat next to Emma. 

You play, each round stupider than the next as the group gets progressively drunker. Emma’s laughing. Jenna cracks a smile. 

And then Hunter’s wrapping up the game, insisting on a fifteen minute break while he sets up the next one. And the night goes to shit. 

It happens when you’re in the bathroom. Emma leaves her Gin unattended, too caught up in laughing with Johnna and Hunter too care. When you get back, she’s looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed. 

“You okay?” You ask, rubbing her back. Her lips purse. 

“Where’s my drink?” Emma says, a little confused. 

You glance around the room. 

“I don’t know.” 

Joy springs up like a baby-bunny. Clearly a couple of drinks deep. 

“The Gin and Tonic? Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours. I gave it to Jenna.” 

Emma falls silent. Annoyance flashes through her features. 

“It’s fine, Joy” Emma says, voice stony, “She likes taking things that don’t belong to her. Isn’t that right, Jenna? 

She says it maybe louder than she first intended. The entire room goes quiet. Jenna turns at her name, a flash of hurt flushing through her features. You look down at the table, ashen-faced. 

Emma blinks. Her own words, surprising her. 

“I’ll get you another one,” Johnna says, smoothing it over, quickly, “Hunter - how long until the next game?” 

But it’s too late. 

Emma settles into her seat, cheeks flushed red - maybe a little out of annoyance, maybe out of embarrassment. Johnna does a good job at distracting her. It gives you the chance you need to raise your eyebrows at Georgie.

Jenna’s abandoned her drink. She’s reaching for her coat, a hasty look on her face. You watch as Georgie takes her aside, tries to reason with her. And then you’re swallowing hard as he’s shrugging at you, watching as she walks out the door. 

And you can’t help yourself. 

You don’t have to murmur an excuse - Emma’s eyes aren’t on you. You drop your drink to the table, shuffle past Georgie and follow Jenna out to the door. 

“Jenna!” You call out, rushing to catch up to her, “Wait!” 

When she turns, her eyes are a little misty. She isn’t crying, not yet, but the look on her face says she might soon be. 

“She didn’t mean it.” You say, breathlessly, “She’s had a lot to drink and she’s still angry, but you shouldn’t take it personally-”

“How am I not supposed to take that personally?” Jenna snaps. You recoil, slightly. Her face is red. You’ve never seen her angry before. It takes you aback. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” She says, voice hot, “I knew she wasn’t over it, what the hell does Hunter know?” 

“She needs time,” You say, “She needs space. But she’s a good person. She’ll forgive you eventually, I know she will.” 

“Yeah,” Jenna says. There’s something in her eyes. Jealousy, maybe? Disgust, definitely, “You seem to be giving her a lot of space.” 

You blink back at her. 

She swallows. Her chest heaves, and she closes her eyes. 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to- sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You say, voice hollow, “You don’t have to apologize to me.” 

She takes a deep breath. Her movements are jerky, shaky. Maybe from the Gin she’d been gulping back earlier. You resist the urge to reach out and steady her. Touching is a no-no. You might not be Emma’s girlfriend, but that you know is against the rules of your arrangement. 

“I need her to forgive me.” Jenna says, voice wavering. Desperate, “YN-” 

“She will,” You insist, “I promise she will.” 

“How?” Jenna says, agonizingly, “I wouldn’t forgive me. I’m such a bad friend.” 

“You made a mistake, we both made a mistake,” You say, “But you’re sorry, and she’ll see that eventually. Just give her time.” 

Jenna’s eyes flicker. She looks up at you, eyes wide, vulnerable. Hazy with hurt, and booze and a little of something else. 

“If I had told you that night how I really felt - that night by the pool. Would you have picked me?” Her voice is low, quiet. 

You blink back at her, not expecting it. 

“I- I don’t-” 

“Would you have picked me?” Jenna insists, brow furrowed. She leans forward, a little. Her scent washes over you. Coconut. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Jenna. 

It goes straight to your brain. Short-circuits you in a way you only feel when she’s close. Her lips are red, chapped, only slightly. You can’t help but stare at them. 

You remember the night. Feeling weightless by the pool. Resisting Emma’s attempts to pry you into the water because Jenna wasn’t. You remember the feeling of her skin against yours. Remember the wash of jealousy that had flooded through you when you thought it was Georgie she liked. 

If you say it out loud it’s real. If you say it out loud you can’t run from it anymore. Your heart is in your throat. All you can hear is the dull sound of the music inside the apartment and your own wild heartbeat. 

“Yes.” You whisper. You don't want to hide from it anymore, “I would have picked you.” 

Jenna hums. Closes her eyes slightly, body swaying gently from the effect of the alcohol. 

Your ears ring, slightly. Devastation floods through you. 

If only she’d told you. 

If only it were different. 

Jenna opens her eyes. Offers you a sad smile. 

“We would have been so in love.” Is all she says. 

“Yeah,” You echo, voice hollow, “We would have been.”

Nothing but the sound of the night. The quiet chirp of crickets. Yours and her heartbeats, both thrumming wildly, perfectly in sync.

And then she smiles at you, once more. And leaves you standing there alone.

next part

#three's a crowd #love triangle fic #jenna ortega #emma myers #fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #emma myers x reader #jenna ortega x you #emma myers x you #wednesday

[blooming-violets]

My headcanon for frat peter is that he joined one after gwen dies to distract himself and as a bandaid fucks everything that movies and gains a reputation oc / reader is his best friend very similar to dancing on my own ik but anyway she tries supporting him but peter is really unhealthy and she leaves for a while how do you think peter would feel about the hole she leaves behind cause she used to basically do all his emotional heavy lifting on hard days

He acts like he's fine. He's learned not to show his emotions especially around the guys. They were never big fans of her, anyway. It takes him about two weeks to finally notice that she's gone. It happens the day he's set to touch up his blonde roots. Usually he heads on over to her dorm, sneaking into the women's bathroom, while she does his hair for him. During those times are when he typically feels more free to speak his mind. They shared a lot of heart to hearts over those moments of the two of them, giggling alone in the bathroom, while he enjoys the feeling of her fussing over his hair. He feels the weight of the world leaving his shoulders for a short time whenever she's around.

This time, though, she doesn't come when he calls.

All his texts go unanswered. At first, he's worried she's hurt. He immediately thinks the worst. It's in his nature to assume that the people he loves will end up dead. Taken too early. It's not until he sees her walking around campus he's able to feel a sense of relief.

He jogs up to her, big, cocky grin on his face, and falls in step next to her. He expects her to open up like usual. Expects her to play along with his teasing. When he only receives a cold shoulder and the silent treatment, he reacts with anger.

Peter's been so angry lately. He's been struggling to feel many emotions but anger is one that always seems to make it through his closed off walls. They say that anger is a massive part of the grieving process but it's one he hasn't been able to shake.

They get into a huge, blow out fight in middle of campus over how he treats her now vs before and how he let's his friends treat her like shit. She's sick of his behavior and only using her whenever he needs something. It's never the other way around. Peter no longer shows up for her like she does for him. She can't take their one sided friendship anymore. This isn't the Peter she grew up loving.

It draws a crowd. People are watching them like they're today's entertainment. It ends with her crying, running back to her dorm, and Peter cursing out the crowds and stalking back to his frat house.

He mourns her loss in his life like he mourned for Gwen.

Denial.

It was her fault. She was being stupid. He had done nothing wrong. So what if his frat brothers teased her from to time. It was her fault she couldn't take a joke. He turned a blind eye to their behavior. He let them get inside his head. He didn't need her. He had lines of women waiting to throw themselves at his feet. What was the loss of one, stupid, annoying girl he knew as a kid? According to his brothers, she refused to put out, anyway. It was no loss to him. He didn't need her.

He buried his hurt by sleeping around more often than usual. A new woman every night. Sometimes two in the same day. He even slept with her best girl friend just to extra piss her off and get back at her.

He wanted her to hurt as much as him.

Anger

He was already the king of anger. He felt its power invade his every pore. It lived deep in his bones and consumed his every waking thought. He was getting into multiple fist fights every week. Not even as Spider-Man, just as Peter Parker.

He fought his frat brothers, he fought guys at the bar, he fought dudes on the street, he even fought his own reflection in the mirror. That one left him covered in blood and surrounded by shattered glass. He needed stitches to close up the wound. He couldn't stand the sight of his own face. He despised the man who stared back at him.

He didn't know this person. He didn't know Peter anymore.

Maybe she was right. Maybe had lost himself.

Bargaining

If he could just see her again...

If he could just see her one time. Hear her voice. That's all he wanted. He could watch her anytime he felt like it. He could overhear her talking to friends whenever he spied on her. He was Spider-Man. He was the master of stealth and shadows. But that wasn't enough. He wanted her voice to be directed at him. He didn't care what she said to him as long as she was talking. All he wanted was a fraction of her attention.

He would trade it all to get her back in his life. Just one conversation. That's he wanted. One, little talk just like old times.

She refused.

He couldn't blame her. He was a destroyer of lives. Anyone he touched crumbled around him. Whether they were killed in a plane crash, shot in the street, fell from a building, or were shoved away...they all left him in the end.

It was his fault. It was always his fault.

Depression

When he lost everything, he used to turn to sex. Now the thought of touching a woman who wasn't her only made him sick to his stomach. Alcohol was too risky. It fucked too much with his emotions. Made him reckless.

Pot was the cure.

It calmed him. Made him forget for a while. Allowed him to just relax and zone out.

He stopped going to his classes. Stopping talking to his brothers. Stopped answering his texts. It was just him, a strong joint, and the quiet of cave of his bedroom. In here, he could wallow in peace.

Peter Parker was not someone who could be trusted in the real world. He deserved to be locked up like an animal. No one needed him. He was better off alone.

This was where he would stay. In the dark. Where he belonged.

Acceptance

The state of his hair told him how much time had passed. It was back to brown. Greasy and unkempt. Shaggier than he typically liked it but he didn't care enough to get it fixed. The only person he ever wanted to touch his hair again was her.

And she deserved an apology.

He had been reading about grief online. There were five stages, so the internet says. There is no specific time period for each and they can jump between the stages whenever they feel like. He liked to hang out in the anger stage more often than the others. It was where he felt most at home. At least he understood anger. Anger made sense to him. Smoking helped quell the raging beast. That was a vice he didn't want to give up. Not yet. He wasn't ready for that step.

The world was an angry place and he fit right in.

But he was learning where to put that anger. It didn't belong on her. That was misguided. She had done nothing wrong. All she had ever done was love him. Anger was okay as long as it was placed in the right direction. He knew that now. Spider-Man could use anger to his advantage. Bad guys deserved anger. His frat brothers deserved his wrath for how they treated others. He, himself, deserved the anger. But not her.

And he needed to make amends. Even if she didn't fully forgive him, he needed to try, because she deserved to hear it, and he deserved to say it.

All it took was one text. After months of no contact. One text and she replied.

Coffee. 9am. Just the two of them.

One, little talk...just like old times.

I LOVED THIS!

It is very Dancing On My Own coded. I think what some people don't fully grasp in that story is that Peter was severely grieving through the later half of it. Gwen died because he couldn't catch her in time. He lost the love of his life because he wasn't good enough at the ONE thing he was supposed to be good at. He fully blames himself for her death. Do people not realize how seriously fucked that would make someone?? I think that's why I like to write dark!Peter so much. Because TASM Peter would be dark after that. He would not be normal. He would not be able to go back to being friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It would ruin him. We saw that in NWH. It's still eating him alive like a decade later. The college days of Dancing On My Own took place a year after Gwen's death. The boy is fucked up.

Grief makes you do stupid things. Anger and reckless behavior is part of grief. Obvious that doesn't mean that it's okay but to completely write someone off as a monster undeserving of love just because they're hurting doesn't sit right with me. Not that you did that, I'm just going off the comments and complaints I've gotten on the fic that always low key piss me off.

And maybe I'm just not the greatest writer so that didn't come off as well as I wanted it to in DOMO but I tried my best haha. Maybe I shouldn't have ended it where I did and allowed them to grow a bit more after but I really thought that kind of stuff would just be assumed by the reader because it made sense in my head that that's how grief and healing and forgiveness go. But no one lives in my head but me so that's my fault for not executing my intentions properly!

I lovelovelove exploring grief and the different places it can take a person. Grief/depression/anger/angst are my favorite topics. Always have been since I was young. Like how Peter in this story feels most comfortable hanging out in his anger, I feel most happy in my angst and darkness. Sad people sometimes do bad things. Hurting people sometimes hurt other people. Even people they love very much. Does that make them completely incapable of change? Does that make them forever unlovable or not worthy of forgiveness? Sometimes people think too much in black and white and forget that the world is full of all sorts of grays.

Not that this was even about DOMO and I'm completely going on a tangent I know I'm so sorry haha but it's close enough to domo because it's dealing with Peter's grief and hurting of a close friend.

Here's some of my favorite pages from my favorite children's book (Michael Rosen's Sad Book) that talks about grief and the loss of someone you loved very much that's meant to teach children how to better understand their sadness and hurt and that even if you do bad things sometimes it doesn't mean that you are a bad person who doesn't deserve love and forgiveness:

ANYWAY

I just wanted to say that I love this and I love when people come to me with headcanons. That's what fandoms are supposed to be about. We're all supposed to be pestering each other 24/7 with our ideas and creating stories together and collaborating and building shit that we all love. Always send me your ideas. No matter how unhinged you might think they are bc I'm sure I've got equally as crazy ideas to play along with you!

#asks #headcanon #tasm #tasm headcanon #tasm headcanons #peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker headcanon #dancing on my own extras #dancing on my own #tasm fic

[peachedtv]

Re-Fucking-Venge

﹂ Yandere!Dabi x Nurse!Reader ‘Come dance with me in hell, won’t you, Father?’ And boy did Dabi fucking mean it. Poor little you to have been his next ledge to mindfuck his father to shards. 

﹂Genre: angst, toxic relationship, slow burn, 18+

﹂ Warnings: AFAB, female pronouns, Kidnapping, non-sexual hair pulling, paralysis, angst, drugging, profanity, descriptions of panic attacks, violence, slight horror, insults, broken family dynamic (both Dabi [duh] and reader's),

﹂ WC: 6.67k

﹂ From Redact: this will be continued! My motivation sucks so I'll try to promise a regular schedule.. I first posted this story at 2k words, then kept editing back to get it up to 6.67k, so I'm reposting it to let the people see the final copy incase yk. If you wanna be on a taglist tell me !!! I'd love to have one

Honestly, everything's turned into a fucking mess.

After the absolute devastation of Dabi’s theatrical exposing of Endeavour, your workplace was swarmed by furious citizens and questioning paparazzi. They were angry. So fucking angry. Angry for the fact that Endeavour had such cruel impositions on his children, angry that his actions caused the root of such a murderous villain, and angry at the fall of heroes being ironically unheroic. Day or night, their anger wouldn’t stop. The continuous flashing lights of cameras, the synchronized yelling, and the fists that shook in the air. With the mantra of harassment towards your hospital, one would think you’re caring for number one himself—the one Dabi framed as the center point for his villainous roots, the one who did most of the hurting. But, no. You weren’t caring for Endeavour. You were the main nurse for his wife, Rei. And that's what truly ticked your soul.

It absolutely baffled you. Why were such a mantra of citizens harassing a regular person? Can’t they properly think that if Dabi’s speech pointed at Endeavour, it’s mainly Endeavour’s doing? Article after article, you started to understand that many hard-luck Endeavour fans were convinced that the abuse Dabi had forsaken was all Rei’s fault.

‘She’s manipulative.’

‘What a fucking gold digger.’

‘No wonder Endeavour had to take out his anger on his children.’

Yet who was the one in psychiatric care? Are these people truly blind to the obvious victim here? It made your blood boil.

You kept Rei under your loving care for years. As someone who had their own fucked up family situation, you felt for her since her admission oh so many years ago. You knew who she truly was, and so, it made you enraged that these strangers yelled at her as though they’d known her all their ignorant lives. As if they had the entire situation figured out when even Endeavour had his own twisted narration of what happened. People believe what they want to believe, and you began to understand that. People protect what and who they wish to protect. It did not matter how morphed and wicked the twists on their perceptions may be—as long as they can justify themselves. As long as they can justify the wrong.

And so, here, Rei was not the object of the crowd’s protection. She was the embodiment of their malformed justifications. The receiver of their hatred, the one to hear the garbage and clunk of cans thrown against her window.

It’s during a time like this that you’re truly brought back. Brought back to the Rei who first arrived. The Rei who was constantly in a fight or flight response. For the first few weeks of her stay, she wore a horrid expression of absolute dread. Her eyes truly had no spark, and her body felt empty of any soul. She always looked down, her chin tucked near her chest as she zoned out into a singular corner of her room. Many of the doctors and nurses complained to the head, saying she was too much for our hospital to handle. Whenever someone merely grazed her arm while cleaning her room, she would scream out in horror—thrashing about as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Thus, when nurse after nurse had quit being her caretaker, finally you came up to the chopping block, and you had heard a lot about her. Of course, none of which was positive.

‘She’s fucking insane.’

‘That woman makes me want to quit.’

‘Thank god I got switched out.’

‘Goodluck, Y/N, you’ll need it.’

When you first saw her, the barrier you had about yourself slipped. No, you didn’t see a manic woman, nor did you see some form of a psycho. What you saw, mesmerized you. You were entranced. She was truly beautiful. Her white hair gently framed her face, while the sunlight in her room had a cold, blue hue, that you didn’t feel was present anywhere else in the hospital. She had the aura of an apathetic beauty, a flower that was plucked - for even wilting roses had their charm. Her eyes, though, those wonderful eyes. You could tell her deep irises once held the spark of happiness, the spark of hope and care. Yet now, her eyelids hung low, dark circles beneath her lids dragging her visage lower, and her posture as an enervated slouch. It was in that moment when you first laid eyes on her did you truly see who was deep inside the shell of her abused being. She brought you back, brought you back to who you easily could have become—shown you who you would’ve been had you not fought tooth and nail against your resolves. And so, determination flared inside of you. You will help her. You will bring back her spark. No one should fight so alone against something a crowd can’t handle. Thus, even if you’re the only one by her side, you will still be there.

It had taken a couple of months for you to barely disarm her violently defensive walls, but you managed. You always knocked on her door before entering, peering through before stepping into the room. You set up a small stool by her bedside, and every time you came to her you would sit down before getting to your medicinal caretaking. You’d smile, greet her warmly, and tell her silly stories about your day. Tales of the warm old man across the hall, of those pesky UA kids that couldn’t help but fight a little too hard for others. You would go into detail after detail, eyes dancing across the empty walls as you lightly laughed at the memories or clicked your tongue at some of the peskier ones. Although she never responded, you made sure to speak to her every single time.

Furthermore, you were careful, you truly wanted the best for your patients, and she is no different. You were careful when you delicately held the flowers’ stems as you poured in fresh water. You were careful when you gently told her everything you would care for before doing it. ‘I’ll be checking your heart rate, is that okay?’ You’d smile, not even grazing her arm before a sign of confirmation. And it was these careful things you did for Rei that truly made her love you too. Soon, she began to speak. Her voice was delicate and raspy, as she hadn’t used her vocals in such a long time. But still, you smiled at her. Tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you listened to her very first request for a glass of water. Progress is progress. And you were determined to continue it.

From her vaguely written patient file, you had an idea that her husband was the main factor in her descent into your care. But, you were horrified once Rei trusted you enough to spill her heart's deepest sorrows—all caused by her husband. She cried, and oh how her tears fell so quietly it shattered a piece of you that you didn’t know was there. After she began giving you one-worded answers, to replying in whole sentences, her walls soon came down and a woman desperate for help and comfort revealed herself. It broke your heart remembering the number of overtime shifts you’ve spent merely hugging her while she gripped your scrubs. Her arms desperately clinging to you for any minuscule support, her body trembling in the fear that you’ll give up and leave her just as the other nurses did. Those silent tears fell, her muffled cries making you wish you could take away her pain if only for a minute. Every night, that was the scene between you two. And every night, flashbacks of her husband’s cruel words yelled at her from the silence only she could hear. Not only as a nurse, but as a human being, you truly cared. And Rei could feel that sincerity, thus, you two grew close.

Even after Rei exponentially improved, you still tried your best to give her some kind of comfort she could cling to in the emptiness of the hospital’s blank walls. You were so proud of her. She came so, so far in her healing process. And your soul smiled at the thought of her gentle nod whenever you entered her room—she had the misfortune of a hundred lives, and didn’t deserve a single crumb more of difficulties.

So why did fate have the tv running that day?

You ran to her room, the blaring of her EKG racing your mind with worry. It had been long, too long, since her heart raced so. You had gotten used to her health, to her improved state, so how the hell did this happen? When you burst through the door, Rei was slumped on the ground with her hand clawing into her chest as she hyperventilated, her eyes wildly ajarred as her gaze stuck to the screen with tears swelling the corner of her ducts as her lips fell apart in these broken attempts of communication.

'-was born as the eldest son of Endeavour.'

‘Rei! Breathe, breathe, I’m right here for you. Please, what happened?’ You held her comfortingly, rubbing your palm in circular motions upon her back. God, how did this happen? Sorrow wretched your soul when she began to cry harder, frantically looking from the floor before her and the screen upon the tv. She shoved you away with as much force her could muster, you stumbled slightly back, in absolute shock. It had been a while since Rei had a any miniuscle of violence in her outbursts—let alone having an outburst in the first place, and it broke your heart to wonder why it was happening. You could tell her conciousness was slipping from the rapid breaths she choked to take, how her movements became more sluggish. She began to scream, her hands tangling into the hair on the side of her head as she knelt with her face to her knees. You reached into a nearby cabinet, taking a deep breath as you thrashed around the contents until your fingers wrapped about a minor sedative. It pained you, you haven’t had to go to such measures in so long. Your hand firmly on her shoulder, you told her everything was going to be alright before injecting the sedative and keeping your comforting words. 

'I was created for my father's selfish dream.'

‘It’s okay, I’m right here. Don’t worry about a thing, Rei.’ You spoke gently, and her eyelids began weighing down to shut, before she looked deep into your eyes and whispered: ‘T-tell him I’m sorry.’ Your eyes followed her as she tried to look towards the tv. Upon the screen, a man was sitting upon a vintage couch. Throughout his body, horrid patches of purple plastered his skin, barely holding onto his stature with the use of staples, you could see the dip in his surviving skin and the bruised purple from the awful staple job on his body. It looked so painful your skin tingled in discomfort. With such a blatantly iconic look, how could you not recognize the man himself? Dabi. His hair was a messy black, his chin picked up toward the camera, and a darkened gaze of determination and resentment filled his eyes—a stare that would pierce the soul of any viewer.

'-my father would force my mother to give birth to more off-spring.'

How long had his voice been playing in the background? You stared, stared at the TV. You listened, listened to Dabi apathetically recall every horrifying detail Endeavour put his pitiful children through. The same details that had you shaken to insomnia at night when you first heard it through Rei's exasperated cries during her mental break downs. It was awful, Endeavour's actions were horrid. The neglect, the abuse, his cold demeanour, hearing both Rei and now Dabi recount those awful memories made you realize just how cold the air about you became as well - a sudden contrast as though your physical environment darkened from the heavy words Dabi spoke out about. You felt their pain, but you know you could never truly understand it. Not until you had gone through something the exact same, and even then, everyone processes trauma differently. Thus, empathy is such a golden key. The very key that had your shocked visage brim with tears. There wasn't a hint of pain in Dabi's voice, not yet, at least. Yet, you knew that years before, and deep inside his battered body, Touya was will trapped. Crying, begging, trying to crawl his way out. You saw a reflection of Rei in Dabi. The reflection of someone who was in pain but built these sky-high walls to hide any form of vulnerability.

‘Using the blood Endeavour left at the fight in Kyushu,’ his hand propping up a document, ‘there was a 99.99% match.’ 

Truly, it took a while to understand what you heard. Your eyes carefully traced the screen, ears perked up in denial as Dabi described every moment that Rei had described to you. Endeavour, the pain, the abuse, the screaming, the yelling. He recalled it with an absent look of apathy glazed across his face. His eyes reflecting that of an apathetic beauty. A look you recognized from the Rei who first walked into your care. If it weren’t for his unforgiving injuries, he would have been a splitting image of his mother. As you gazed upon his grotesque features, his lips mouthed the same name of the son who Rei prayed so desparately for the return of.

Yet you don’t think her prayers were answered in the best way.

You stared holes into that screen, watching his careful movements, scanning the paper Dabi held in his hands, as you watched his mouth moved it was in that moment that you realized you couldn’t hear. A ringing was blaring in your head as the only sensory you had left was that of sight. Your vision tunnelled, the sides of your perception clouding into black as you silently watched Dabi continue to expose that wretched hero who caused his dear family such tremendous misfortune. Dabi was the same Touya Rei cried to you with gulit over for all these years. The same Touya whos only remains found was a jawbone from the burning forest he died in. The same Touya who fell apart for the sake of his father’s dreams.

How isn’t he dead? It didn’t make any sense. His jaw, how was his jaw found without the rest of him? How had it come off? How did he survive the temperature of those flames being enough to cremate someone alive? Your eyes watched the screen, watched Dabi’s speech continue, that ringing spiking a headache of throbbing pain. Nothing made any sense. And you put your everything into focusing upon the scarred man on the screen so why did this have to happen? Rei was doing so well, it’s not fair, why did this have to happen? She doesnt deserve this to happen she had trued so fucking much. She didn’t deserve this, she was barely healed–

‘Miss Y/N! Is Mrs. Todoroki okay?’ 

Your coworker’s voice snapped you back into reality, and you stammered an apology before carefully placing Rei into her bed and turning off the tv with shaking hands. From the expression on your coworker’s face, you could tell they saw the footage aswell, their eyes nervously tracing to the ajarred cabinet door to the sedatives, understanding the regress in Rei’s stability from this entire situation. 

Sadly, Rei’s instability wasn’t as fleeting as you had hoped. It didn’t take long for Rei to fall apart into the hole she fought so hard to climb out of. With the mantra of angered ex-Endeavor fans accusing her of child abuse, along with the constant paparazzi that flashed bright lights toward her window and posted her tear-struck face all over tabloids, you couldn’t blame her. For days after the incident, you refused to sleep. Staying by her side as she couldn’t rest at all. Although a hospital never sleeps, it still quiets at twilight. But no, not anymore. For even night didn’t tire the fucking protestors. They screamed out, police desparately trying to control the situation, although they were smart. Hugging the gates, not actually on the property of the hospital. Thus, the police couldn’t pull any legalities on them. 

You never left the hospital anymore, every break and after your shifts, you would sit at Rei’s bedside. The aura was both somber and panicked, darkened with the occational sniffles and choked sobs of Rei’s rasped voice. Unlike the usual, you did not speak. You knew the voices in her head had come back now, and if you added your own, Rei wouldn’t be able to hold out any better than she already is. So, the only thing you knew to do was to never leave her alone, and her arms never left your back. You held her in an embrace every night, neither of you sleeping, neither of you talking. Slowly, she began to loosen her hold, gently sleeping a couple minutes a night with her chin resting on your shoulder. Your heart lit with hope, glad she could finally sleep a wink. Before long, she was truly able to fall into a decent slumber, her body resting against yours for a couple hours before she would gasp awake. Slowly but surely, improvement had come. And once Rei’s sleep schedule returned to some extent, you traveled back home to your apartment for the first time in over a week to gather your own well-deserved rest.

You wish you could say your return brought some comfort to you. But truly, the silence was eerie to say the least. Your mind was still worried. Worried that Rei would wake up in the middle of the night, all alone without you there. A part of you missed her already, but your boss became truly worried for your health after the bags under your eyes darkened into a bruise like hue. She demanded you at least go home for a night, and you relented. Truly, your body was giving up, and you needed the rest too.

Your keys twisted inside the lock as you pushed the door open, a familiar creak welcoming you back. You did not feel very welcome. The air was a piercing cold, with all the lights in your apartment off. The fact that it was late into the night did not help, with both an absence of light in your home and no twinkling stars to gaze upon. Everything was pure dark. You sighed, dumping your bag lazily by the door as you kicked off your shoes, taking heavy steps toward your room when you stopped. You stood still, so, so still. From the crack below your closed bedroom door, light bled into the dark hallway. You were scared, truly. You never leave the lights on before leaving, so what was happening here..? Why were the lights on?

A sense of dread filled your body, and you listened carefully. Nothing. No rummaging, no gentle thumps of someone’s steps, just the rays of light dauntingly brightening the floorboards and that white noise of ventilation. Quietly, you walked backward toward the front door, taking shaky breaths as your lungs quivered. You should’ve stayed with Rei. You shouldn’t have come. With how little sleep you had gotten, your mind felt as though you were floating. And obviously, you struggled to form any kind of rational thought about your current predicament. Despite that, you did have one thought. The thought that you must leave. Immediately. You didn’t care for your belongings, your jacket, nor your shoes and keys. All you cared for was to get the fuck out. 

Every pore on the wall felt as though an eye was peering through, watching your pathetically fearful movements. Shivers spiked down your spine and every dark crack of any open door had an imagined silhouette peering through, faces tauntingly smiling to you through the dark. You were panicking.

Your hand gripped the knob, turning it slowly to stiffle it’s persistent creaks before you flung open the door to bolt outside. Your mind raced, breath hitching as steps slapped upon the cement. As you approached a corner, you turned your head back as you kept running—fully expecting the door to fly open and a figure to chase behind you. You couldn’t imagine why you had to have some burglary occur. You didn’t live in an exceptionally poor or rich area, and there were blatant security cameras throughout the building. The more you watched your back, the more you felt a little silly. Nothing came, and you nearly slowed down your bolt as a light chuckle of relief fell before your mouth. You’re safe, your apartment was safe. There’s no threat in your room, obviously, you must’ve forgotten to turn off the lights. You turned the corner as your bolt slowed into a jog. Yet, your momentary relief was short-lived the moment you roughly crashed into something in front of you.

You fell back, falling hard onto your ass with your palms scraping against the unforgiving texture of the floor. Gravel stung, digging into your open skid marks. Athough, that pain was nothing compared to the strike fear over who stood before you. 

The very man upon your tv screen those days before.

The very man who single-handedly wrecked the top two heroes.

Dabi.

He looked down at you, a sickened gaze and smirk plastered over his graphic features. He looked manic, and he was manic. The way he demeaningly leaned down to you, hands dug deep into the pockets of his black slacks, the way he cocked his head to the side, it all made your throat starkly dry. 

‘Why the long face, Y/N?’ You internally gagged, your name sounded so vile on his tongue, in the way his face stared at you with hatred. How does he know your name? What does he want? You stared up at him speechlessly, your jaw falling silent and eyes dropping wide with horror. Your mind raced in confusion. Jumping from one false hope to another, trying to relieve your fear that you might not survive this encounter. Your only connection with Dabi was as the nurse of his mother, was he extrapolating some revenge against her? But why? Endeavour had been the main perpetrator of the abuse, so why are you being dragged into this so mercilessly? You couldn’t think clearly, but you did know one thing. Both of you well knew Rei had barely anything to do with the harm Touya had endured. Yet, here he was. Newly born as Dabi, as the Dabi who stared down at you as though you coddled his worst enemy your whole life.

His hand shot toward your collar, the fabric ripping at certain ends from the sheer force he used to drag you closer to his face. Your hands grappled at his wrist, fingertips digging into his hand before your force hesitated when you latched right onto his staples. You were scared. You were really, really scared. The way his smile grew wider in response to those pathetic tears that welled in your eyes, the way he held you so tightly your windpipe felt as though it was burning in pain. You felt misjudged. Thrown into an undeserving cruelty that you hadn’t even sinned enough to deserve. But obviously, why would a villain care about whether or not you deserved their violence?

‘Why are you so scared? I’m only here to thank you.’ He quirked, eyes wide as he laughed at your pathetic expressions of fear and struggle. ‘You won't die, so don’t be too dramatic.’ He smiled, yet, you didn’t feel comforted. Heck, a part of you here realized how much you wish you could’ve died at this moment. Was living through whatever he was about to put you through better than hell itself?

‘You took care of my dear old mom ever since I left, comforting her all those nights, helping her recover from Mr. Number One.’ His grip tightened, your collar bunching up into his palms, harshly wheezing your throat as you struggled to breathe. You knew no amount of fighting back was going to drain him down to stop. Dabi had you stood completely upright, right up on the tip of your toes as he held the majority of your body weight up by your neck, still leaning forward to truly yell into your face. Even without the threat of his quirk, you’d never stand a fucking chance against him with how he towers over you. You could tell of the venom Dabi had in his recalling of your care as his mother’s nurse, his pupils dialating in fury. Had he felt things were unfair? That he hadn’t had the help Rei needed when he felt so much worse? You tried to be empathetic, trying to find a way so you could make it out alive. But the more Dabi tightened his hold on you, the more you realized you wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed—far from it, actually.

‘I’m here to repay you. You know? You spent so many years caring for her, so I’ll repay your act of kindness.’ His voice dripped in sarcasm, venom seeping through as his spat out to you right in your face. Suddenly, his expression morphed, his smile churning so wide the staples holding his smile  together began to rip at the corners of his mouth. ‘You know, that stupid woman isn’t the angel you keep treating her to be. Haven’t you seen little Shoto Todoroki? How do you think that scar on his precious face came to be?’ Your breath hitched as his grip tightened, your throat completely wrenched into his lone palm as heat began radiating through his fingers. Don’t listen to him, you told yourself. Rei messed up. She’s wasn’t the best mother. But no one helped her victim until she became the abuser. Shoto didn’t deserve that, neither did Rei deserve the cruelities of Endeavour, and nor did Touya deserve a crumb of the pressure he underwent. Can’t he understand that nearly everyone in this situation is some form of a victim? You felt frustrated trying to hold your tongue back against this man. He was blinded by rage, a rage that began rationally and morphed into something villianously sinister. It made you feel frustrated. He pitied himself too much. Everyone was struggling, Shoto and Rei too, so why was he so upset with you helping someone who needed to be helped?

‘You people disgust me. You save whoever the fuck you want, but leave the people who really need it out to burn up in a forest.’ You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly in denial to his cruel accusations. You wanted to yell. Yell how stupid his words were, how tunnelled his thinking was. Dabi is being selfish. Yet, despite your anger, you were still striken with fear. You understood you were in no place to speak your mind, yet your words just spilled out in a frenzy.

‘You’re so linear.’ You said shakily, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to wrench your windpipe out of his grip so you could just barely breathe. ‘Rei was hurt too, she’s n-no angel, but she’s not such a demon either.’ You spoke quietly, but considered how you were choked up into the air it was remarkably impressive you could even get a peep out. Dabi seemed to only become amused, an upset form of amusement. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mainly from the physical agnoy, but moreso now that his palm began to luminate blue and heat up.

You were going to die over your fat tongue.

Your crying only seeming to fuel him even more as his smile ripped even wider. ‘I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it badly–‘ You panically wept. His eyes narrowed, a sense of absolute euphoria over the position of power he had. He felt so cocky, you know? He just ruined two of the top heroes’ careers and now he’s taking away the only support and comfort from his shitty mom. His revenge has just fucking started. He nonchalantly dropped your body onto the floor as he adjusted to stand straight. You crumbled to your knees, your hands flying to your throat as you wretched and coughed out. Your neck was painful to the touch, throbbing as you felt the bruise of his grip develop. Suddenly, he knelt down to one knee, looking at you with an unimpressed expression. 

‘Don’t be so fucking dramatic. Be grateful you’re alive.’ He spat, his tone unforgiving. You sobbed, trying your best to sniffle your crying as you bit down on your lip and shut your eyes tightly—too stuck in horror to look at whatever the fuck your current situation was. From the fear of death you just had, you nearly wanted to thank him for sparing your life. Your hands violently shaking as you refused to look up to him, parts of you begging that this was all some bad trip. Suddenly, he laughed. He began to laugh, growing louder and more insane. You stopped breathing, opening your eyes to see him heaving in absolute exhilaration. 

‘Don’t do that,’ He was profoundly euphoric, ‘you’re reminding me too much of how I cried to dear old Endeavour. What, are you trying to send me down memory lane?’ He finally calmed down a little, smiling at you as you knelt before him, fucking speechless. Your relief was immediately drowned out in the panic of what he was trying to do. He reached out, shoving his thumb into your mouth and forcing your jaw open. Taking his other hand, he forced two fingers down your throat without a shred of care. You gagged, grabbing his wrist and digging your nails into his skin as you felt a pill sink into being forced down into your body as he kept his fingers deep in your throat. Eyes wide as you tried to fight him off, jaw stiffening as you prepared to bite down on him. He stared you down warningly, his breaths deepening and hand warming on your jaw. You sobbed, relenting and loosening your grip on his wrist, shutting your eyes tightly. You felt a tear gently trickle down your cheek, it felt warm against your face. But not as warm as the threatening hand on your neck that wouldn't hesitate to burn. Dabi let go, standing up as you coughed out, feeling the pill stay stuck deep in your throat as you tried your best to ignore it. He lazily dragged his hand across your face, wiping your spit off his hand. You started to cry. Sobbing as quietly as you could as you heard. You could tell he was truly annoyed, clicking his tongue as he took heavy steps away from you - but still keeping a close enough distance to burn you alive if you tried to run away. You felt frustrated. What had you done to deserve this? What did he drug you with? Your panic made you hallucinate awful symptoms of the pill. The world began feeling dizzy, your head becoming light, ad your thoughts racing drunkenly. Although, rationally, you knew that you hadn't even digested the pill yet, so you tried your best to calm yourself down before the pill's effects would truly take place.

You didn't realize Dabi had taken his space between you two to take a quick call until he hung up, shoving his phone deep into his pocket before he looked back to you with a bored expression. 'Are you done crying?' He was annoyed. From the expression of apathy and boredom on his face, he resembled a tired dad sick of his children throwing a tantrum over every little thing. The way he looked down at you felt demeaning, and you felt your body shrink a little down into the core of your bruised heart. You wanted to stand up, your legs numb from being forced down to kneel this entire time. Yet, the fear you held over being burnt from any sudden movement kept you scarily still.

'Get up.' There wasn't a shred of care in his voice, but from the way he tangled his fingers in your hair, dragging you forward by it until you were knelt up awkwardly by his side like a dog, you weren't surprised by his verbal violence. Let alone his physical violence. You grabbed his hand, trying to ease the burning pain against your scalp. It felt as though your hair would rip from the root if he pulled just a little harder. Your eyes darted around, confusion to why he propped you up to him so closely. Was there some threat? Was something about to happen? You felt your heart pounding through your blouse, so loud it resonated inside your head. But, it didn't matter how much your scalp burned in pain. It didn't matter how your palms were still scraped open from your initial fall. It didn't matter how you had roughly fifteen minutes before that pill would digest. What did matter was that by the end of those fifteen minutes, you needed to be away from him and whatever he had planned for you. As though Dabi sensed your change in mood from fear to determination, his hand began to heat up.

'If you want to die, go ahead and try what you want. If not, stay down like the trash you are.' You felt the hope you built up crumble, maybe it was from Dabi's words. But mainly, it was from the literal crumble of the ground and roads in front of your apartment building. The way the earth caved in on the infamous stone-like creature that bulldozed through half of Japan—Gigantomachia of the League of Villians. His body was confined down so his brutish face was mere feet away from yours. His eyes were a glinted yellow, so much so they didn't resemble eyes in the slightest—moreso like large fragments of amber-filled or gold his sclera. You watched in horror as large rubbles of the road slipped down Machia's spikes, cracking their area of impact once they fell. Light after light turned on in your neighboring apartments, people opening their doors with pissed-off expressions darkened with eyebags. Looking to curse out whatever fool decided to make such a loud fuss in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly, as the beast merely turned his head in their direction, and person after person ran out of their homes in wide-eyed fear.

Dabi rolled his eyes, unimpressed at their pathetic attempts at an escape. He raised his palm, flames bursting out from the center as screams of pain erupted. You stared in horror as the people you'd politely smile to every day burnt up before your eyes. You didn't plan it. Your arms reached up and grabbed Dabi's forearm to pull it down into our chest. You cringed when the flame lightly skimmed your shoulder, yet our grip on his arm remained iron. You refused to let people die right in front of you.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' He yelled, his flames dissipating as you watched a minuscule bunch run away safely. Dabi shoved you hard into the ground, glaring down at you in absolute annoyance. Yet you returned his glare, looking up at him with resentment. 'Fine, you wanna die? Go ahead.' He aimed his palm in your direction, a twinge of flames hurling out. Without a doubt, you were scared. You were scared of dying, scared of never seeing your loved ones again, and scared of the sorrow your death would cause. You hadn't had the impact you wished to have yet, yet here you were, about to die before barely making a dent of meaning in your life. But in that fear, you felt angry. Angry that you were being relentlessly harmed over helping someone who needed it, angry that Dabi would mercilessly burn the innocent without hesitation, and angry that he was mad at you over trying to save them. He was so unreasonable.

'God! Can you quit it?! I understand your pain, and I understand where you're coming from. But those people aren't Endeavour, Rei, or whoever else you hate! They didn't do anything to deserve being killed over, just like you didn't do anything to deserve what you went through as a kid. So why are you hurting them?!' You glared at him, adjusting your posture so you were sitting upright, a hand soothing the blistering burn on your shoulder. His flames fizzled out, and you saw his eyes widen. He was silent, still. As though for both of you, time stopped. You heard desperate steps fade away into the background, rubble from Machia falling upon the grass, and the sizzles of Dabi's flames eating away the fresh corpses that littered the scene about you two. His expression was apathetic, you couldn't read him. Yet, you felt his mind racing, before his palm picked up and slapped you, hard, right across your face.

'You understand me? Is that what you fucking said?' He was absolutely livid. You could hear the absolute anger in his voice, yet a soft smile spread across his lips. Your cheek felt stung, warm, and you were absolutely speechless. For some reason, him slapping you across your face felt more painful than the burn on your shoulder and the scrapes on your palms combined. It was the way he looked down at you. Down at you with absolute fury, as though you were a senseless fool. 'Don't you dare say you understand me when you haven't gone through what I did.' You could tell he wanted to kill you in that moment. You flinched when he reached out to you, expecting this to be your final moment. Instead, he threw you over his shoulder and jumped onto Machia's back, being dragged away to god knows where. You looked up to his face, catching a glimpse of his thumb wiping a droplet of blood from the corner of his eyes before wiping it onto his sleeve. Did he become injured? Or was that a common occurance? Truly, you shouldn't care. He had just battered you, violently dragging you upon the back of a rocky beast, and yet here your nursing instincts slapped you across the face to anaylze his aid.

Quickly, your brief confusion, or worry, for Dabi fell apart as you realized your legs couldn't feel the aggressive breeze of the wind against it's skin. You fought to move, to adjust your stature, yet you felt as though your nerves were burning, fighting against an invisble force that kept you scarily limp and still. Your heart began to pound in your chest, heavy breaths shaking your lungs as you nearly began to weep over what awful drug Dabi had foresaken onto you earlier. You felt constrained, uncomfortable, a distant tingle of pain tracing about the entirety of your skin as you tried to fight the stunt in your lower half. Your legs. Your legs were paraylzed. Your mind raced a mile a minute, heart dropping deep into your stomach. This isn't fair. It's not fair. You felt as though your life has fallen so far you couldn't even hear it's impact on the floor so down below. No resonating echoes, nothing. And that nothing was not at all what you deserved. You hand quivered, tracing across your shin to your thigh. It felt as though you traced your hand on another body, or a piece of your body that was no longer attached. You were disturbed, trying to keep your sanity together as your temples and eyes burned with frustrated tears. It wasn't until a tear hit your thigh, and you didn't even feel it, did you truly begin to break down.

Everything is a fucking mess.

#re-fucking-venge #yandere dabi #dabi #my hero academia #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #mha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi headcanons #todoroki touya #todoroki toya #dabi angst

[redrocketpanda]

From the person who brought you unhinged JJK S2 fish discourse, please accept my humble new offering: me holding up images whilst screaming ferally at you: did ya see?! did ya see what they did with the colour symbolism in episode 4 and what it Means?! Well dw cause I'm here to serve you a heinously long meta-analysis regardless. This episode has completely undone me and I need to give you a blow by blow account of why

I want to go in depth about the final scene of e4 bc that's really what set the cogs whirring in my mind, but let's start with the following image bc it exemplifies everything, not just in terms of the colour symbolism but of the heartbreaking changing relationship of stsg

Throughout the previous episodes and opening/credits of S2 we have been made to associate the colour blue + lightness with Gojo and the colour red + darkness with Geto. The sparkling blue eyes and stark white hair of Gojo, his Limitless: Blue technique, the white fish, the way he is often shown standing/walking in the light, turned to face Geto versus the black hair + dark eyes of Geto, the black fish, shown standing/walking in the shadows, turned away from Gojo (etc etc)

Yet the final scene of e4 flips this on its head and what this Means is, quite frankly, soul destroying

We join Geto as he walks along a dark, narrow corridor flooded with red light until he reaches heavy doors. He's confronted with his own image, reflecting back at him, before using both hands to prise open the door. When he steps into the bright white light of a high-ceilinged room, his face falls as Gojo emerges like a messianic figure from the applauding crowd, carrying the shrouded corpse of Riko (side note: god I have a lot of thoughts on Gojo as a messianic figure but I'll save that for another time)

Gojo approaches Geto with his head bowed (whereas usually he is always looking up at Geto) and the moment Geto lays eyes on Gojo he knows something is wrong (similarly to Toji earlier in the episode). He barely seems to recognise Gojo and though Gojo's eyes still sparkle with their bright blue infinity, his expression is dull and lifeless. Geto asks disbelievingly in a way that stabs me right through the heart: "Satoru. Is that you?"

At the start of the conversation, the camera pans from Gojo on the left to Geto on the right and is shot from below in a way that emphasises the growing cavernous expanse between them

But it's what happens in the following moments that's really the killer

Gojo states that he fucked up and that everything that has happened is therefore his fault. Geto tells Gojo "let's head back" (I read this both as: let's head back home and as an indication that Geto wants things to go back to how they were). The camera then cuts to Gojo's mouth as he asks flatly - "Suguru, should we kill these guys?" - and then zooms out as he continues - "The way I feel right now, I doubt I'd feel anything about it." The camera zooms out, showing Gojo standing in front of the applauding crowd, holding Riko's body and continues to draw back, making Gojo seem as if he's getting further and further away from Geto, as well as from us, whilst his eyes glow ethereally

I want to do a separate post about what happens with Geto, Gojo + their relationship in episode 5 but I do also want to point out here: this is the scene that Geto experiences invasive flashbacks of in the following ep. It's the moment that he realizes that he's lost Gojo, that Gojo is now fundamentally different in a way that Geto doesn't recognise or understand, that Gojo is far beyond his reach

As Gojo walks past a motionless Geto, away from the light and into the darkness, we cut to Geto's downcast eyes, pupils dilating wildly as though he's in shock/about to cry (this harkens back to the fish, the way that Geto can no longer bear to look at the white fish as it swims past). We are then left with Geto standing in the bright blue-white light telling Gojo that there's "no point" in killing them, whilst Gojo replies in the darkened, red corridor "does there really need to be any point to it?"

Gojo is a broken man, a complete shell of who he once was and this scene demonstrates Gojo's transition as he turns away from Geto. The colour symbolism, though, is present throughout the earlier parts of the episode and beautifully illustrates how we arrive at this exact moment (as well lays the foundations for what comes next)

Let's return to our blue/red colour theory bc there's a lot going on here during this episode!

E4 starts on a banger: we're cruelly given a recap of Toji telling Geto that he killed Gojo and then within the space of about 7 minutes, Geto too has been killed. It's tragic and sad and none of us want to be reminded of it but I'm going to (srysrysry) because hey, check out what's going on. Notice the cool blue tint of Geto's "death" versus the vivid red of Gojo's? (a horrible eg I know but you should've heard my scream when I caught onto it)

And here's another cool example that had me ajdjsksjdk bc ofc I clocked Gojo using his red technique, but look at the blue glow around Geto's hand?! I don't recall seeing it being used for Geto before (correct me if I'm wrong) so it's interesting to see it being used here, plus us seeing Gojo using Red properly for the first time

Let's just pause here for a moment bc this is a hugely important moment for Gojo's character arc and the fight with Toji gives us an incredible colour theory moment

In the previous episodes, we've seen Gojo being able to easily use his Limitless Blue technique but remember how, in E2 Gojo tried to use Red and hilariously fucks it up announcing "I failed" and resorts to punching the bad guy instead? It isn't until this episode, after Gojo has used reverse cursed technique whilst on the verge of death to heal himself (idk if heal is the right word) that he is able to learn to use Cursed Technique Reversal: Red

We have this really beautiful animation sequence during Gojo's fight with Toji. A blue and a red droplet swirl around each other and then splash together to reveal a swirling rotation of blue and red rippling water. The colours converge, red droplet slipping into blue water, blue droplet into red. The droplets come together to form the shining purple infinity plucked between Gojo's fingers, granting him the "Hollow Purple" technique that allows him to blow a hole through Toji.

Gojo explains:

"Reverse cursed technique uses negative energy. While it can enhance the body, it can't regenerate it. Multiply that negative energy against itself to create positive energy... Take the amplified and the reversal, then smash together those two different expressions of infinity to create and push out imaginary mass."

Gojo + Geto, amplified + reversal = two different expressions of infinity -> create / push out

Toji "killing" Gojo was the moment that set Gojo on a different path, which allowed him to evolve beyond belief and causes him to ascend to, what he believes is, divinity. He takes the basics of Blue and Red (primary colours; Gojo and Geto) and mixes them together to create something new, something transcendent, something that surpasses who he (and Geto) were before. He becomes an unstoppable power that far surpasses everyone else, and this is what Geto recognizes: that Gojo has evolved without him (which we know from E5 has huge consequences for Geto's thinking)

And so now, finally, let us return to Geto at the end of E4

After Gojo asks Geto "does there really need to be any point to it?" (killing), the camera flashes quickly between the applauding audience and Geto's empty hand, which he then clenches into a tight fist. He raises his downcast eyes to look forwards (resolutely, looking into the future) and responds: "it's very important there is..."

We're left with the image of Gojo standing on a blue floor, surrounded by the clapping crowd. The floor wavers as an all consuming darkness pulses beneath him, locating Geto as it's central point as it surges out towards the crowd "...especially for a jujutsu sorcerer."

We're reminded of the conversation where Geto and Gojo almost come to blows whilst playing basketball in E1. Geto's argument that jujutsu sorcerers exist to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers whilst Gojo complains about having to protect "the weak" + patronisingly tells Geto to get off of his moral high horse.

Now we witness the extent of Gojo's apathy in action, as he pulls away from everything and everyone, and the swinging of Geto's moral compass from protection to genocide as he's left behind in the ruins of all that once was, of everything and everyone that he loved

#goddddd this gave me brain rot for about 6 hours?! #idk if people will appreciate it as much as fish discourse but FUCK I needed to just get it out of my system bc it's driving me insane???? #these two are making me + a good chunk of the internet unwell but i'm glad we can all be unwell together #also I have A LOT more to say about gojo geto + stsg more generally so I might continue to inflict long-winded meta analysis onto tumblr #like BOY do I have a bunch of shit I need to say about e5 so I guess that'll be another 5-6 hours of my life spent on that #rrp analysis #stsg #satosugu #gojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk colour theory #jjk fish discourse #geto #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk s2 #jjk s2 e4 #jujutsu kaisen season 2 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen season 2 #jujutsu kaisen

[rebelwrites]

I Can Never Show My Face Again

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You kept your feelings hidden for Leclerc but after drinking a little too much at the season opening gala you make a complete fool of yourself.

Requested by anon: Heeey! Could you write an image with Charles where the reader tries to seduce him and everything goes wrong (she falls from the bad or accidentally hurt him idk) thank u

“How drunk is she?” Charles asked, not taking his eyes off you as you stumbled over to the bar, leaning against the marble countertop as you held your finger up at the bar tender. He couldn’t help but be concerned about your current state, this wasn’t like you at all.

“Mate, she’s pissed.” Daniel laughed, slapping his hand on Charles' back. “Not seen this side of her for a while.”

“Should we stop her?”

“Nope,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “I mean you can try but it won’t end well, she will stop on her own accord soon either she will sneak off to go puke or she will pass out first. It’s always the same when she gets this drunk.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, not liking the sound of either option. He couldn’t just stand around doing nothing whilst you kept knocking the shots back.

“If she punches you then that’s not my fault, I warned you.” Daniel nodded, watching as Charles slipped into the crowd without responding.

Leaning against the bar you squinted trying to keep the double vision at bay but it wasn’t working. You knew it was a bad idea getting this drunk at a work event. All eyes would be on you and not in a positive way. Something inside of you snapped and you were planning on telling Charles how you really felt but after a couple of shots for Dutch courage it turned into 3 which turned into your current state.

A hand landed on your shoulders, causing you to sigh the feeling of sparks erupting through your skin told you exactly who was standing behind you.

“Charliiieeee.” You giggled.

Charles smiled at the name, he hated being called Charlie but for some reason he didn’t mind you calling it him. He would never let anyone else call him that, just you.

As you spun around on your heels, you lost your footing causing you to stumble. Luckily Charles quickly caught you before you hit the floor. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” You giggled, resting your hand on his cheek.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” He said, helping you upright but keeping his hands firmly planted on your hips keeping you stable. However he couldn’t help but slowly run his thumbs over the exposed skin from the cut out dress.

“Not had enough.” You slurred, poking your tongue out at him.

Charles looked over your shoulder gaining the bar tenders attention. “Ne lui servez plus d'alcool, elle en a déjà trop bu. Puis-je avoir une bouteille d'eau s'il vous plaît ? (Do not serve her any more alcohol, she has had too much already. Can I have a bottle of water please?)”

No matter how many times you heard him speak in this mother tongue it always made you weak at the knees.

“Fuck, you sound sexy when you speak French.” You purred, running your hands up and down his torso. “No idea what you just said but it sounded sexy.”

A chuckle escaped Charles’ lips as he reached over taking the bottle of water. Slowly he started guiding you through the crowd of people until he reached the booth Ricciardo, Sainz and Gasly were sitting at. All of them shooting questioning looks.

Charles tried to get you to sit down but you were putting up a fight. In turn you managed to push Charles down on the couch smirking as he looked up at you. Hitching your dress up slightly you thought it would be a good idea to straddle in front of your friends and co-workers.

You only managed to get one knee on the couch before you made a complete fool of yourself. Lifting your other knee up you thought you had landed on the couch but from the pain that etched across Charles’ face you quickly realised that you had kneed him straight in the balls.

Embarrassment washed over you as you quickly jumped backwards knocking all of the glass off the table causing them to smash on the floor gaining everyone’s attention.

Carlos immediately jumped to his feet wrapping his arms around you so you didn’t fall and land in the glass. Hiding your face in his chest, you didn’t want to face anyone after making an utter fool out of yourself.

“I will take her back to my hotel room, it’s closer than hers.” Carlos said to the guys.

“Think that might be wise.” Daniel nodded.

The walk through the room was a walk of shame, your boss shook his head at you as you passed him making you drop your gaze to the floor not wanting to make any more eye contact with anyone. If anything the whole incident had sobered you up a little.

Once you reached the elevator you sighed heavily hiding your head in your hands.

“I fucked up.” You mumbled to Carlos. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me.” He said softly, placing his hand on your shoulder squeezing softly. “Let’s just get you back up to my room and talk about this tomorrow no think the best thing for you to do is sleep it off.”

“I don’t know what came over me, it was only meant to be a couple of shots to give me courage to approach Charles.”

“Well, love and crushes make us do stupid things and sometimes we have to live with the consequences.” He hummed, as you stepped into the elevator.

-

The sunlight started to creep into the room causing you to groan, pulling the duvet over your head. You didn’t even try to open your eyes, the pounding in your head told you everything you needed to know.

You were hanging out your arse.

Running your hands over your face you sighed heavily as memories of the end of your night flashed through your mind. How could you be so stupid getting that drunk?

It was now time for some major damage control, not only with Charles but with your boss as well. Dread instantly filled you as you thought about how that conversation would go. It wasn’t going to the the stranded ‘you fucked up talk’. This would be a full blown lecture, profanities screamed at each other and a raging argument the whole of the team would hear. The downside of working with your Dad, you were too much alike so when you squared up to each other people tended to run in the opposite direction.

The thought of that and Charles was enough to make your stomach churn. Launching yourself out of the bed you rushed across to the bathroom, dropping to your knees and just making it in time before you emptied the contents of your stomach.

Carlos quickly appeared in the bathroom, pulling the hair band off your wrist before pulling your hair into a loose ponytail.

“I’m never drinking again.” You groaned, taking a small sip of the water he had brought.

“You say that now,” he chuckled, knowing exactly how you would be. “I’ve known you for too long now.”

“I mean it.” You huffed, running your hands over your face.

“Whatever you say.” He nodded, crouching down resting his hand on your knee. “Me and the guys are going out for breakfast soon, you think you can manage that?”

Silence filled the room, that was until your stomach growled at the mention of food. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunch time and even then it was half a sandwich.

Without thinking you agreed to go forgetting that he said the guys were going as well.

“Come on then, get yourself cleaned up and dressed, I ran to your room this morning and brought you some clothes and trainers and I’ve put one of my hoodies out for you as well.” Carlos hummed, helping you to your feet.

“You are a good friend.” You smiled, giving him a quick hug before you turned to sort your face out.

After half an hour you were walking back through Carlos’ hotel room taking deep breaths as you neared the living area. The sound of Charles talking in French caused your heart to race. How could you show your face around him after last night?

Fiddling with the sleeves of what you thought was Carlos’ hoodie you froze realising that it didn’t smell like your best friend. You should have known the moment you pulled the hoodie over your head and the smell was intoxicating. This wasn’t Carlos’ this was Charles’. Scurrying to the mirror you needed to confirm for sure by seeing the number on the hoodie. The white number 16 was staring you back in the face.

You were going to kill Carlos.

It was time to face the music no matter how much you wanted the earth to swallow you up right now. Taking a deep breath you walked into the living area. All eyes were all on you as you b-lined to the coffee maker.

Charles smirked when he realised you were wearing his hoodie. He knew Carlos would have had something to do with that but he couldn’t hide the fact that his heart swelled at the sight.

“How’s the head?” He asked, appearing next to you.

“Like I have a baby elephant stomping around.” You winced, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, trying to shield them from the bright light of the hotel room.

“I’ve never seen you that drunk before.” He said softly, placing his hand over yours. Once again sparks shot through your body at the contact reminding you just how much of a fool you made of yourself last night. “I was worried.”

“Yeah about last night.” You mumbled, not daring to look away from the coffee machine. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t myself.”

“Hey,” he whispered, placing his fingers under your chin tilting your head so you were looking at him through the sunglasses. He slowly removed the glasses so he could see your eyes. “It’s okay, No lasting injuries but I’m more concerned about you. What’s going on? You know you can talk to me right?”

You couldn’t take this, it was too much for you. The coffee machine beeped signalling it had finished brewing, taking a step away from Charles you pulled your sunglasses back over your eyes before grabbing one of the Ferrari travel mugs to make your coffee in.

“Can we just drop the subject?” You huffed, focusing on the mug. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Charles was taken back by your snappiness, something was going on with you and he wasn’t going to stop until he had found out what it was.

-

Staring at your nails as you sat in your dad’s office, you were only doing it to piss him off and it was working.

“I promised your mum that I would keep you out of trouble and what do you do?” He snaps, “you make a complete ass of yourself at the opening gala, landing yourself all over the papers all because you were chasing some tail.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you finally looked up to be met by the angry face of your father, Christian Horner.

“Doesn’t affect Redbull though, does it?” You shrugged, knowing it was like waving a red flag to a bull.

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear those words come out of your mouth.” He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look kiddo, I get it you have some stupid little crush on Leclerc but you gotta be sensible about it. You are in the limelight, especially being my daughter.”

“You have no idea, it’s more than a crush,” you muttered hoping he didn’t hear you but you knew he did by the knowing look on his face. “Can I go now?” You said with no emotion in your voice. “I’m nursing a hangover from hell and this is making my headache worse.”

“Go sleep it off.” Dad nodded, running his hand over his face. “But just so you know this isn’t over.”

“Never is.” You mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Just a piece of advice from your old man.” He said softly, relaxing his expression. “If you really like Leclerc and think you can make it work, stop hiding your feelings. Just tell him. If you don’t want this crush to get out then you might want to avoid wearing his hoodies.” He said with a small smirk. “And please no more drinking yourself into oblivion.”

Half smiling at him you quickly slipped out of the room, taking a deep breath as your head was still spinning. Pulling your sunglasses back over your eyes you ignored everyone and made your way outside. Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pulled it out seeing a text from Charles.

New message from CL16🏎 - we need to talk, meet me at the coffee shop near the hotel.

Your stomach churned as you read the message, this couldn’t be good. You knew he wanted to talk about last night but the way the text was worded he didn’t sound happy.

Message to CL16🏎 - Be there in 5.

Pulling the hood of Charles’ over your head you held your hand over the side of your face, ignoring the paparazzi and the questions they were shouting. Scurrying to your car you quickly slumped into the drivers seat, resting your head in your hands. You knew you shouldn’t have been driving with how shit you felt but right now you didn’t care.

The drive to the coffee shop was quick, there was hardly any traffic on the road. The moment you saw Charles through the window your heart started to race, somehow you managed to park the car before heading into the shop.

Your heart melted as you saw he had already ordered the coffees, in the middle of the table were two take away cups. One iced coffee with what looked like caramel sauce drizzled on the inside of the cup and his takeaway cup.

Letting out a shaky breath you flashed him a small smile as you sat down, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“You said you wanted to talk?” You mumbled, pulling your coffee towards you, biting on the plastic straw.

“About last night.” He said softly, resting his hand over yours. “I know you probably want to forget it even happened but we can’t pretend it didn’t. I’m not leaving here until we have cleared the air because there is this awkward tension hanging over us now and I don’t like it.”

Finally you looked up at him, feeling yourself starting to get lost in his eyes.

“I got drunk,” you mumbled. “There’s nothing more to talk about, Charlie.”

His lips tugged into a smile at the sound of the name.

“We both know it’s more than you getting drunk.” He hummed, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Do you feel it too?”

“Feel what?” You asked, the words practically choked you and you just hoped he couldn’t tell.

“The sparks, the connection we have.” He smiled, watching as you raised your brow at him. “I feel it every time I’m around you. Suddenly all the love songs are about you, I guess what I’m trying to say Y/N is I’m falling for you in ways I can’t begin to describe and I’m falling hard.” Tears glistened in his eyes as he spoke. “The first time I realised this was at the Christmas party a few years ago, you were wearing a dorky Christmas costume when everyone else was in suits and gowns but you dared to be different.”

A smile appeared on your face at the memory and your heart had practically stopped beating with his words. You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing.

“I love the fact you call me Charlie, the way your smile lights up any room and your little goofy celebration dances you do.” He beamed, gently squeezing your hand.

It was the first time you had been lost for words. Tears threatened to spill over your lash line as you pulled your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Please say something.” He whispered, trying to read your reaction.

A smile graced your face as you placed your other hand on the side of his face, feeling him nuzzle into your touch as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Charlie, feel the exact same way.” You whispered, watching his eyes light up at your admission. “That’s why I acted the way I did last night, I embarrassed myself because I was trying to seduce you and ended up kneeing you in the balls.”

“I’m okay, no lasting damage.” He chuckled, opening his eyes, taking in your expression. “So what do you say, shall we see where this goes?”

“Oh I know where this is going.” You smirked.

“And where’s that?” He questioned raising his brow at you.

“It’s going to be the greatest love story in history.”

A week had now passed since you and Charles confessed your feelings to each other. However you missed the race due to being ill from catching a stomach bug. Watching his face flash up on your phone made you smile. Hitting answer on FaceTime you propped yourself up in bed.

“How you feeling?” He asked as he wandered around the garage.

“Like shit.” You whined, sipping your drink. “Wish I could be trackside.”

“You need to rest,” he nodded, coming to a stop with the flash of red from his car visible on the screen.

“You are just as bad as my Dad, I’ve stopped puking now.” You shrugged, as a yawn escaped your lips.

“But you haven’t been sleeping so I’m with your dad on this one, you need to catch up on sleep, let your body recover.”

“Urgh fine.” You huffed with a smile on your face. “You better win this race though.”

“Only if you promise me you will sleep.” He hummed.

“Okay, okay I will take a nap now but you better let me know your position as soon as you finish qualifying.” You whispered, feeling your eyes getting heavier as you spoke.

“Of course, I don’t want you finding out any other way.” He winked, lifting the camera up to give you a view of him and the car. “Now get some sleep.”

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

[mister-eames]

1/2 I just want to point out that we have LITERAL VISUAL evidence of JGL having a Magic Mike moment & YET there is DEARTH of fics where Arthur goes undercover as a stripper (Why does he have to do this you ask? To gather info on a mark?? Idk! That's not important!!) But I think my favourite take on this non-existent fic would be everyone else underestimating Arthur & thinking he's not gonna be able to pull it off (😏 pun intended). I think people would tend to think of him as uptight & prim

2/2 But for Arthur it's just the job & he's committed & as a result he's 100% going to put his whole arussy into it & outstrip the strippers. Plus, he's not at all the strait-laced (as much as a criminal can be strait-laced...) person that his very slicked down & suited look would suggest. I guess i just need a moment where people are gobsmacked that stripping is one of arthur's rather extensive skill set & arthur meeting their incredulity with his own 🤨 elle woods, "what, like it's hard??"

Nonnie, I read this at 6am when I woke up and let me tell you how I CHOKED when I read arussy I am crying 😂.

I'm sorry it's taken me a few days to reply to this - as a thank you (and apology), I wrote you a thing:

---

Eames doesn't even register when the jacket smacks him in the face. In a cascade of cotton and silk, Armani falls into a heap straight into his lap and Eames doesn't even care because that is Arthur up there on the podium and he is gyrating against a stripper pole.

"Oh my god," says Ariadne somewhere besides Eames. "He's actually doing it."

This gentlemans club (of the strip variety) was particularly renowned for being a sanctuary for twinks and twink-lovers alike, a veritable haven for men seeking men of the slender and the slight, sexy and sassy kind. Eames could barely fault them for their taste, the establishment was called Bottoms Up after all ---

-- the crowd cheers raucously over the music as Arthur starts to unbutton his waistcoat, hips swaying with the beat.

And just like that, amongst the strobe lights, Eames is having a moment. A crisis of faith, if you will.

He honestly had thought it would be a laugh. The intel said that the mark frequented this club. The intel said the mark had a thing for svelte brunette twinks with an ass that wouldn't quit. The most svelte-est, brunette-est twinkiest twink on the official roster at the club said I'll dance and drug your guy for fifty-grand and Arthur had snorted in his face and said it's not in the budget, I'll do it myself.

Eames bet his entire earnings for this job on this.

On Arthur. The kind of gay man who Eames envisions listens to show tunes and Striesand and enjoys a sensible chardonnay on a Sunday afternoon between ironing his ties or his handkerchiefs, or whatever, before watching a football match with another glass of chardonnay and nodding sensibly at whichever strapping young team come out of top, figuratively and literally, before settling into bed.

On... Arthur. The kind of man who never let his personality get in the way of a job. Who was a team player. Who was one the last few criminals and men who cared about integrity. Who was full of hundreds of unsuspecting surprises that Eames had unearthed one-by-one over the years, fucking of course he would pull through ---

-- Arthur's actual tie, a deep crimson, goes flying into the crowd, a round of whistles escalating as a lucky bloke catches it, waving it in the air like a lasso. On the stage Arthur drags a hand down his chest, makes direct eye contact with the man and winks at him.

Eames clutches the jacket, throat dry.

He got this one very, very wrong.

Eames had put his money on Arthur being laughed off stage (and into his arms), on being too stiff and sullen to be purposefully sexy.

Because Arthur was sexy, but in a non-purposeful way. Eames has never been a man titillated by what he could get for free and that others had proudly paid for, and beat off to those daydreams of Arthur ironing his ties, and his hankies.

But there Arthur is now, legs spread, back flushed against that pole as he dips inches from the floor as dollar bills flutter around him from eager patrons like paper snowflakes, body somehow swaying fluidly to the beat - a top forty remix that Eames doesn't recognise but feels his own feet tapping in tandem, heat zipping to his groin.

Arthurs chest, now bared for everyone in the club to see, is glistening with what looks like oil, the pale, roaming spotlights of the club gives Arthurs skin the effect of being bathed in moonlight.

Their mark, a balding fifty-something, grins lecherously, thin lips spreading over cheap veneers as Arthur makes eye contact with him as he unbuckles his belt, slipping the leather through the belt hooks like a snake through grass.

Eames very suddenly hates their mark.

The feeling intensifies when Arthur deftly hops off stage, pants slug loose around his hips, body still one with the beat as he approaches the mark, coyly draping the belt around the mans neck with one hand. The man shivers with delight as Arthur slips the sedative into his drink with the other while he is distracted.

The man places his grubby hands on Arthur's hips, completely fooled, and something burns hot and cold at the same time in Eames chest.

He's about to storm over and smack the mans hands away when Arthur slips out of his grip.

Arthur turns about then leaving the mark bug-eyed and breathing heavily as he gets back on stage.

Eames can't hear his pounding heart over the cheers of the crowd as Arthur--who Eames called a stiff pointdexter two days ago--slides his back down the stripper pole and back up again, executing some kind of manoeuvre that makes his bones look like liquid--and drops his pants, leaving himself only in his briefs.

The song ends. Blowing a kiss to the deafening crowd, Arthur gathers up his clothes and heads backstage, set finally over.

There's a flurry of activity to Eames' right where Yusuf, playing security guard, is hefting up their mark who is increasingly sleepy and incoherent.

Eames was supposed to help him take him out back but his feet are already in motion, following Arthur into the backroom. He flashes his security badge at the sensor and enters.

Wiping off the oil with a wet wipe, Arthur is waiting for him it would seem, pants slung loosely around his hips, shirt unbuttoned. Through the vanity mirror Arthur makes eye contact.

He nods in acknowledgement "Eames."

"That was quite a routine out there," he says, shutting the door behind them.

In the reflection, Arthur maintains their eye contact and chin lifts a fraction in defiance as Eames slowly approaches. "Told you I could do it."

"You did."

"How much did you bet on me failing?"

"My entire commission for the job."

Arthur snorts.

"Stupid. You deserve that."

"Very stupid," Eames agrees, nodding. "I have been very, very stupid, Arthur."

His feet are still moving and suddenly he is before Arthur. His hands are moving too, out to grip Arthur's hips before Eames realizes what he's doing. He balls them into fists and drops them to his side.

Arthur's eyes follow the movement in the mirror, turning to face Eames anyway. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Yusuf?"

Eames blurts out, "I didn't know you could move like that."

Raising an eyebrow Arthur says, completely deadpan, "What, like it's hard?"

He stalks forward then, gripping Eames' hands and placing them on his hips. "Go help Yusuf," he leans in close to whisper, eyes dark, "finish the job. Impress me now. And then I can show you how else I can move."

Eames is out of there before he needs to be asked twice. He's going to impress the hell out of Arthur.

#inception #arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #just a little thing