#i can’t stand people that take things out on others just because they’re in a bad mood

[rebeliz7]

Ride

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: 28, 37 & 64 with Wan? R is in love with Wanda but Wanda is between R and Vision and every time R tries to talk to her about it Wanda just gives excuses and R feels like Wanda just like her for the sex but Wan realizes she's in love too.

Word Count: 2815

28. “I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

37. “You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

…

Vision is - a good guy. He’s the kind of guy that any woman could date and be certain that he’d never hurt them. He’s reliable and polite, and nice to talk to. He’s a good friend, and even a better partner to have in the field. 

He’s been in love with Wanda for the entirety of his existence. You don’t think he even knew what love was when he fell for her, and still. 

They make a good looking couple, and Wanda seems to fit in his arms. Especially when they’re dancing like they’re currently doing. 

There’s a part of you that wants to desperately go over there and ask him to remove his hands from Wanda’s waist, but she’s not your girlfriend and you’re not generally a jealous person. 

Still, jealousy beats underneath your skin and you don’t like it. You don’t like it at all. 

Before Wanda, and before you got tangled in this situation, you used to despise jealous people and the feeling as a whole. You didn’t quite understand it either, and you often thought that jealousy was just a response to insecurity. 

There is no room for insecurities with Wanda, you know exactly where you’re standing with her. You two are not in a relationship, and you hate to feel possessive of her but you also can’t help it. Just looking at Vision touching her, as innocent as he does now -as he always does-, is enough to drive you mad. 

You turn in your seat, trying to spare yourself from the visuals any longer.

Usually you’d be enjoying a night like tonight. You like to dress up, put on some make up, do you hair and pick a nice outfit to wear. You should be mingling, trying to befriend whatever new person Tony is trying to impress, because that’s what these little parties serve for after all. 

Tonight you sit by the bar by yourself, nursing a drink and although dressed to the nines, you don’t feel like talking to anyone. 

“Can I get some water?” You haven’t even noticed the music changing, even less so Wanda approaching the bar. 

She looks radiant, of course. Her cheeks are flushed the slightest bit, you guess from all that dancing, and she’s smiling widely when she meets your eyes and you’re pulled into her orb immediately. 

“Hi.” You smile and her smile twists into something else, something more meaningful and private. 

“Hi.” She husks out, her voice dropping lower as she walks closer to you and takes the glass of whiskey from your hands to take a drink, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Thirsty?” You ask as she gently gives the glass back and takes a discrete step backwards. 

She very openly checks you out, her eyes traveling from your face and taking every inch of you where you sit before she meets your stare again. You don’t shy away from her, but you do have - other reactions. 

“Very.” She nods with a sly grin that does inexplicable things to you. 

You breathe in deeply, perhaps in a weak attempt to get a grip of yourself, and you take the opportunity to really look at her too. 

She’s wearing a casual loose black mini dress that looks ridiculously good on her, and that does nothing to conceal the curves you know are under it. Her high heels make her legs look longer than usual, and her hair is down in soft meticulous waves that mixed with that smile, give her an angelic yet sensual appearance altogether. 

“You look amazing.” You smile when you meet her eyes, and she raises an eyebrow in amusement. 

“I feel like you’re talking to my legs.” She says with humor, and you become incredibly desperate to kiss that smile off her lips. 

“Well, obviously.” You reach out as she laughs and you take her hand to pull her closer to you. She wraps one arm around your shoulders and even kisses your cheek, all normal things that can be taken as two friends interacting and nothing more. 

“You look really hot with this.” She whispers, close to your ear, and her hand running down the front of your blazer. 

You swallow with difficulty as she steps backwards again, this time to take the water the waiter has finally brought her. 

She drinks her water and you become entranced with the movement of her throat, and the way her lips stay wet after she puts the glass down. 

Your stomach begins to ache when you can’t control the desire you feel for her, and all that ache slowly travels southwards and you don’t think you can wait another minute to have her. 

“Come on.” You take her hand and you don’t wait to hear an answer, although she’s laughing as she practically jogs behind you to keep up as you pull her out of the suite and towards the elevators. 

The moment the doors of the elevator slide closed you’re kissing her. She’s about to tell you something when you do, and you catch her open mouth in a delicious and drowning kiss. 

She moans softly as she wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you push her against the metal wall. 

You kiss her fully, your hands on her waist as the taste of her cherry lip gloss invades your senses. Even more so when you let your hands travel further down her body and you don’t feel any other fabric under her dress. 

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under this, are you..?” You ask against her lips, your throat now dry while you think about her walking and dancing all night long like this. 

“Why don’t you find out.” She husks, her lips gracing yours as she speaks and you feel your knees go weak. 

You swallow with difficulty as your brain short circuits. Your stomach is tied in knots and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never felt as turned on as you feel right now. 

“We need to get to my room.” You tell her with urgency, and she smiles provocatively. 

“You’re taking me to bed?” She asks with an innocent smile that doesn’t fool you at all. 

“Who said anything about a bed?” You retort as you run your hands down her legs, scratching her skin lightly as she combs your hair back with her fingers and you kiss her again. 

You kiss her until the doors slide open, and she’s pushing you lightly with a beautiful smile on her raw kissed lips.

…

You remove her dress as soon as your bedroom door falls shut behind you, and she laughs at your impatience. You, on the other hand, are not laughing at all because she hasn’t been wearing a thing beneath that dress and the realization makes your skin prickle. 

“You’re such a bad girl.” You tell her as you guide her towards your bed. 

“Only because I know you love it.” She teases you, licking your lips and your jaw before she steps backwards and lays on your bed willingly. “Well? Are you gonna make me beg?”

You stare at her and you can’t believe her audacity. A few minutes ago she was dancing with a man who she knows is in love with her, and now she’s here, wet and ready for you to do whatever you want with her. 

You don’t make her beg. You could never. No, you live to give her whatever she wants. You yearn to make her cum as many times as she can resist. 

Your face between her legs and your lips wrapped around her clit, you have the pleasure of making her cum and hearing her moan your name, over and over again. 

While she catches her breath you get rid of your clothes, and then you immediately lay on top of her, wanting to feel her body against yours and desperate for a little release yourself. 

“Baby.” She whispers against your ear as she wraps you in her arms, and accommodates your thigh between her legs while pushing hers against your wet heat. “You’re so wet. I love it.” 

Her easy laughter makes your chest flutter, and you kiss her cheek as you try to find a rhythm with your hips. 

“Of course you do.” You smile and she gasps when you push your hips particularly hard. 

“I want to taste you.” She rolls on top of you, and kisses you needly before she kisses down your body wantonly. 

She doesn’t make you beg either, and the visual of her between your thighs, eyes locked with yours as she eats you out without holding back in the slightest, is enough to push you towards the edge. 

You’re laughing when you come back to your senses, and she’s already peppering your face with sweet kisses and a wide grin on her lips. 

“Wanna put on the strap for me?” She asks mischievously, biting her bottom lip as she waits for an answer. 

“What are you thinking?” You ask as you roll the two of you in bed again. Your lips kissing her cheeks, her jaw, her lips.

“I’m thinking - ” she cups your face, a devilish smile on her lips. “You look really well under me and I really want to ride you.”

You swallow thickly, and the next second you’re promptly getting the strap. 

The process of getting it on catches you both in a fit of laughter, but is comfortable and familiar, and you’re caught thinking that you’ve never had this feeling of belonging with anyone before. 

“Lay down and do nothing.” She instructs you when you’re ready, and you swiftly follow her orders.

You watch her take the toy in her hands as she sits on her heels beside you, that smile never leaving her lips as she strokes the fake dick and sends shots of pleasure directly to your clit each time she moves. 

“You want me to suck you?” She asks and you laugh as she moves to sit on your thighs, her hands never stilling. 

“I kinda do.” You nod and she leans forward to plant a sweet kiss on your lips before she crawls down the bed. 

To say that watching her give you a blowjob is the most bizarre thing you’ve ever seen, would be a poor understatement. Not that you don’t use the strap often, you do, whenever you feel like it. But she’s never offered to suck you before, and you think you might have been missing out. 

There’s something about her and her lips as she bobs her head up and down, her eyes never leaving yours as she struggles to breathe and stubbornly wanting to take the whole thing in her mouth at once. 

But there’s a moment when she comes out for air and she looks at you, and you think you can’t wait another second before you’re inside of her, and she seems to have the same thought. 

Grabbing her hand you pull her up and kiss her messily, and almost desperately. She moves to straddle you and you both work on lining the toy with her entrance before she sinks down on it with a heavy sigh and trembling body. 

For a few seconds she just sits there, and you try to stay still. Her head is thrown back, her hands squeezing your thighs behind her as she swallows and breathes in and out. 

You watch her and you know you want her. You want her for good, for yourself and you need to tell her that. 

When she finally moves her hips and her eyes meet yours again, you know you love her and you think she might love you too. 

She wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to ride you. She does that enthusiastically for a little while, and when you grab her and roll on top of her, she moans out your name in the most delightful way. 

Her nails are digging on your back as you thrust your hips and fuck her against your mattress as hard as you possible can. 

And when she cums, a tidal wave of pleasure showers you as well, and you cum along with her. 

“I want you.” You tell her as you look up, the toy still buried in her. 

“Again?” She asks breathlessly and amusedly.

“I want you, Wanda. I want to be with you, and I want to be the only person in your life.” You tell her and her smile drops. 

“Let’s not do this tonight, please.” She seems to beg, her hands on your face now, trying to placate you like she’s done many times before. 

“I love you, and I want more than this. I deserve more than this.”

She looks away, still trying to catch her breath and pushes you off of her to be able to get out of bed. 

For a moment all you can feel is rejection, but you take a deep breath as she hurries to grab her dress from the floor and you get up too. 

You throw the damn strap away and you pick up a long shirt and put it on, if only to maintain some sort of dignity in the upcoming exchange. 

“Don’t you dare to leave like this.” You tell her when you see her grabbing her heels and heading for the door.

“What do you want me to say?” She asks you and you walk closer to her. Her hair is a mess, her makeup is smudged and if she walks out right now you have no doubt that anyone who sees her will know what she was just doing. 

“Anything.” You shrug and you see tears gathering in her eyes. “But you can’t just walk away after I told you I love you for the very first time.”

“I really don’t want to ruin this.” She tells you, and her words confuse you.

“How would you ruin this?”

“I always ruin what I love.” She says and you take her hands, letting her heels fall on the ground. 

There it is. 

“That won’t happen with us.” You assure her gently. “You’re my favorite person, and I love you.”

She chuckles when you say that and you go back to feel light, in a way. 

“And I want to be with you. For real this time. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sex. We’re very good at having it, but I want more and something tells me that you do too.”

She doesn’t say anything for a beat, and that’s how you know you’ve hit a point. 

“We will fight.” She argues weakly, and you peck her lips. “We will yell.”

“And then we’ll have make up sex. That’s like, the best sex out there.” You counter, and she laughs. “You love me?” 

“I do.” She nods, her voice soft and honest. She kisses you this time and even presses herself closer to you, so much so that you can feel her heart beating against your own chest. 

“Then no more excuses. We can do this.” You smile and kiss her again. She smiles, her hands on your face as she nods. 

“I’ll have to talk to Vision.” She realizes and you kiss her again. 

“So that’s that?” You ask with a smile. “We’re together now?”

“We are.” She nods and you pick her up and twirl her twice. You’re both laughing when her feet touch the ground again, and things seem to fall back into place. You’re you again.  

“Let him down gently.” You suggest and she takes a deep breath before taking off her dress one more time, and heading straight to your closet and then your bed. 

She’s familiar with your room, she knows where everything is, and she’s stopped asking to borrow your clothes a while ago. You watch her put on some shorts before she looks at you again. 

“I will. He’s such a nice guy.” She says as she throws your comforter to the ground, and you take a clean one from the closet. 

“He really is.” You agree, as you both get under the new comforter. 

“Are we bad people?” 

“Maybe.”

You’ll think about that in the morning, right now you want nothing more than to cuddle your new girlfriend and have a good night’s sleep. 

… 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff

[britcision]

Not gonna lie, we’ve been watching YuYu Hakusho alongside the release of Delicious In Dungeon and uh

It’s been illuminating

Like on the one hand hoooooooboy you can taste the 90s animation techniques (and the Netflix version is somehow more strobey and seizure bait, and they’ve fucked random chunks of audio?? I have the dvds I can prove they’ve fucked around)

On the other hand… yeah, it really, really highlights what people have already been talking about with the Delicious In Dungeon - the pacing issues, especially with going shot for shot from the manga instead of embracing their own medium

Cuz I will stand by YuYu Hakusho being the best anime version of a manga I’ve ever seen. It’s true to the manga, but keeps up the pacing and fleshes things out by leaning more into the side characters, and particularly our audience surrogates, Koenma and George

The fights all pace well because we cut to the people watching them, so it’s not just repetitive punch punch punch shots (although we do get those)

Whereas this week’s episode of DunMeshi in particular…. Really suffered from skewed pacing on that fight

They had way too much time just standing around talking, both with the harpies and in between Falin’s attacks, and I’d bet even an anime-only fan could pick out which shots were literal panels in the anime because nothing moved to flow between them

Those shots of the separated groups especially; this is anime, not manga. Those people could have been moving, interacting, doing things instead of panning over a still

I get that it takes more time and money but this was a really significant fight and it does make me worry a little for season 2, because the red dragon fight also had some pacing problems (although to a much lesser degree) and season 2 is when the combat pops off

I really do appreciate them wanting to do a faithful interpretation of the manga and sticking close to Ryoko Kui’s vision, but anime is its own medium and by sticking too closely they’re not taking full advantage of that medium

You have more time to fill in an animated episode vs a manga chapter because your characters literally move and flow, and three panels of action happen in a second

They’ve been folding two or three chapters into each episode, but this week’s especially (ep 17) really played too close to that two chapter timeline, instead of taking out the important story beats and the time to fill and working out how to pace around that instead

(Funnily enough though, they actually nailed the exact same kinda pacing issue in the exact same episode for the Laios and Shuro fight; that one was fucking great, it was clear that action was ongoing even while we focused on other people, and it had good weight and emphasis despite being largely offscreen, just like the harpy fight should have been

I. Guess. They coulda put more work into that than the Falin fight? Cuz it’s a huge character moment but for fuck’s sake Chimera!Falin SHOULD be the bigger one! We the audience got hints but this was the REVEAL)

Honestly just… the 1000% disinterest in the harpy fight was jarring, and it leading immediately into the Falin fight that was basically stop motion without the time lapse didn’t help

Cutting to Marcille and Shuro on the shirt tear was fucking great though, chef’s kiss, someone out there is still watching over us, I just hope they work out a happy medium soon

I get that there’s lots of iconic and fantastic panels in the manga, I made a complete summary of every single chapter, but the anime shouldn’t be showing them as stills

The characters should be moving in between them, not snapping from one face to the next like a slide show

In a perfect world I’d also love some more little character asides and things a la YYH, but there just isn’t the same easy audience characters to cut to

But but but

Thistle reacting a la Koenma to some snippets of the bullshit in his dungeon would give me fucking LIFE he can’t be watching all the time for obvious plot reasons but I want him to find a veggie golem

I want him to see the kraken and find some leftovers and be searching for Delgal and plotting their dinner and wondering why he can smell something delicious and what is it and can he make that

Move the background stuff that got cut from the Tances’ episodes, cut to Namari and the twins hanging out and talking about leg guards, there’s SO MUCH supplemental material

It might be less one for one to the manga but it’d stop the weird dragging out and give us something more, something extra to appreciate the anime on its own merits

It’s nice to have an anime experience that is very close to reading the manga, but it’s something really special to have the anime shine and add to the experience on its own

Anyway next week is the shapeshifter and I’m so hype for that and wondering if they are gonna include just a smidge of meta knowledge since Kui did tell us whose impersonations are whose 👀

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #yuyu hakusho #yu yu hakusho #dungeon meshi anime #spoilers for ep 17 of delicious in dungeon

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (5/5)

A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged and read this little story of mine! I’ll be back to posting pure filth soon!

Title: The darkest parts of me (5/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,2k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

David Rossi stands in a parking lot looking at the ground where only hours before a man’s body had been lying. A body that knew was a from the murders he’s spent the better part of a year hunting. They had gotten the call early, a quick description of the scene, but witnesses in the diner had described a couple, and he knew they had to go to California to see it for themselves. They had never been so close to catching them.

His phone rings, sounding loud even though there’s people everywhere and he looks down to see Jason’s name flash on the screen.

“Hey.”

“I’m leaving the ME’s now. It looks like a snapped neck, the man was an ex-marine.” Jason speaks as he walks to the car. “Wife and kids at home.”

“This wasn’t premeditated.” Dave says as he looks around and realizes that in the dead of night there was no way no one would be able to see the murder take place. “He had recognized the unsubs from the news and went to confront the woman while the man was in the bathroom. He was on with 911 when it happened.”

“So they’re close by.” Jason concluded for him.

“They have to be.” Dave walks around the crime scene as he holds the phone to his ear. “The roadblocks are up, every cop in the state knows to be on the lookout. They won’t get away. Not this time.”

There’s a beat of silence and Dave waits for Jason to say what they both were thinking.

“Let’s hope so.”

*

“We can’t stay here.” Aaron told her, surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

“I know.” She says, her bag already packed, her gun cold against the small of her back where it rests in the lining of her jeans. “I think we need to get out of the country. It’s time”

“Where do you want to go?” He cups the back of her neck, the hand that only a couple of hours before had snapped a guy’s neck, was now so gentle as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Anywhere we want.” She smiles when she hands him the passports that Clyde had made for them. “As long as we go fast.”

He nods, because they had planned for this, had planned for what they would do if something went wrong. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. But they had a plan, actually had multiple ways to leave and somewhere in the back of his mind he thanks whatever lucky star for Emily’s funds.

She watches as he carries their bags to the car with a small smile. She knew she should be worried, that she should be scared because at any moment they could be found. But she isn’t, she’s excited, a familiar rush running through her at the thought of a chase. It’s a new kind of adrenaline, and she wonders if she’s found another way to get the high she’s always chasing.

They drive on backroads, not caring that the drive would take much longer, because they knew that any highway was a road to getting caught. His hand rests on her thighs as they drive, her smaller one on top of his and when she squeezes it he looks at her.

“Do you feel bad?” She asks and he knows what she means without her having to elaborate.

“We don’t know if that man deserved to die, but he put us in danger. It was worth it.” He offers her a small smile and she squeezes his hand again, a smirk on her face.

“It was sexy.” She says, dark eyes gleaming and he chuckles.

“My dirty girl.” He always loved how much his killing turned her on and it took every ounce of willpower not to put the car in park to have his way with her. But they needed to get to Arizona, from there they’d be able to get on a flight. It was a long drive, hours on the road, and they didn’t have time to stop.

“Once we’re safe, I’ll show you just how dirty I can be.” She feels his fingers dig into her thigh and she grins.

“You think you haven’t shown me exactly how filthy you can be yet, sweetheart?” He chuckles, but there’s an uncomfortable ache in the pit of his stomach, want quickly settling between his legs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She leans over the center console and licks his neck, her teeth grazing the skin there slowly before he urges her back into her seat.

 “You’re sure we can trust Clyde with this right?” He asks, needing to think about something else, anything else, than how much he wanted her.

“Yes. He’s already made arrangements, we’re flying early tomorrow morning.” She knew that Aaron didn’t fully trust Clyde, but he had been the only one to help her when she decided to get away from her old life, had helped her again after she killed Ian. If there was anybody she trusted except for Aaron, it was him.

“How did you meet him?” He realized he had never asked her.

“His dad worked for my dad, and when he got older, he just like me, wanted another life. When I decided to leave, when I decided to become someone else, I reached out to him and he lived in the Netherlands, I went there and he helped me become Lauren Reynolds. We didn’t speak again until Ian, but he has connections everywhere, can make anyone disappear and he helped me again.” She didn’t talk much about life with Ian, much less about her time with her parents and she knew Aaron was hanging onto every word.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to still be in contact with him? If he has ties to your parents and your old life?” He knew that Emily was intelligent, that she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with her life.

“He, just like me, changed everything about himself, he technically doesn’t exist. He made it look like he died in a plane crash years ago.” She took his hand again. “Trust me, we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Okay sweetheart.” He pulls her into a kiss, a quick thing stamped onto her lips that she smiles into. “We better hope we don’t get caught before we get to the plane.” He winks at her, and she knows that he’s finding this just as thrilling as she did.

*

They had been looking for hours, had every cop in the city out patrolling the streets. But still, the unsubs were gone.

“It’s like catching smoke.” Dave grunts as he sits in the precinct with Jason, a cup of bad coffee in front of him on the table.

“No killer is unstoppable, but maybe we simply got here  too late.” He says, his own cup untouched in front of him. “They know we’re after them, they had a head start.”

“What are you thinking Jason?” He looks at the look of sadness on his friend’s face.

“We know that they have money, that they’ve travelled the country for a long time, the woman seems like a ghost, she doesn’t exist anywhere. They’re getting ready to leave the country. And we might not be able to stop them.”

“I’m calling the airports.” The detective that’s seated with them says and Jason nods, but as he looks at Dave he knows that he’s thinking the same thing he is. The unsubs had an escape plan, and now they’re stuck playing catchup.

*

Emily yawns as she drives on the deserted roads, it was late, they had been driving for most of the day and night. She looks over to Aaron who’s sleeping beside her, his usually intense face as relaxed as it’ll ever be and she smiles. They were getting close to the private airport, they were close to escaping. She wondered what their new life was going to be like.

As she sits there, lost in her own thoughts her phone rings and Aaron grunts beside her as he wakes up.

“Yeah?” She already knew who it was, he was the only one who had her number.

“One of my men saw you passing him about a minute ago. Ditch the car, I’ll have him pick you up.” Clyde’s low voice sounds through the phone.

“Why?” She asks but still pulls off to the side of the road while keeping him on speakerphone so Aaron can hear.

“Because your rental is more noticeable than one of my cars.” She can hear his smirk through the phone. “Leave it where you are, about a mile down there’s a gas station, we’re waiting for you there.”

“What about the car we’re driving now?” She puts the car in park while Aaron rubs his eyes and stretches.

“We’ll make it disappear, it won’t be traced back to either of you. Come on darlin’, no need to be difficult about this.”

She looks to Aaron who nods, seemingly agreeing to the plan and they both get out of the car.

“Okay, see you soon.” She throws the phone to the ground and smashed it. She wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

*

It was almost 3AM when a young cop comes running into the small conference room they’re sitting in.

“They’re in Arizona! We got a call from a detective, they saw the suspects getting into a car at a gas station.”

“They have help.” Jason stands up at the same time as Dave.

“But they won’t be able to board a plane. Everyone knows to be on the lookout.” The cops says, his voice hopeful.

“They have money, connections. They’re probably flying out from a smaller airport, one that won’t be stopping them if given enough money.” Dave explains as they start to walk through the precinct, they didn’t have a lot of time.

“Like a bribe? But that’s illegal.”

Dave smiles at the other man’s innocence and squeezes his shoulder.

“Money will get you anywhere, kid.”

“Come on, we need to get there, we’re calling the team in Arizona on the way.” Jason is already holding the phone to his ear as he urges Dave to follow him. “We’ve got them.”

*

“The cops are coming, the whole fucking cavaliere.” Clyde says with a grin on his face, clearly enjoying the situation.

“How do you know?” Aaron asks as he sits on the small private plane next to Emily who’s leaning into his side, his arm around her shoulders.

“I have men everywhere, and I’ve gotten three calls already.” The British man looks at them with something close to glee. “You did always know how to make things interesting, darlin’”

Emily rolls her eyes but still smiles at his words. She feels Aaron’s hand tightening on her upper arm and she looks at him in amusement. She found his jealousy sexy, she always had, and he always wanted to put his claim on her, always wanted her to feel like his.

“Thank you for helping us out.” She says to the man across from her.

“I’ll always like helping an old friend out. For a fee that is.” He winks at her and she shakes her head at the way all Clyde always wanted was money. She takes the suitcase beside her and slides it over the table, her eyebrow arched as she waits for him to open it.

“That should be more than enough.” She swears she sees his eyes light up at the sight of the bills in neat stacks in the suitcase. “Now, get us out of here.” Her gun rests on the table and she picks it up casually and she feels Aaron tense against her side, always ready to back her up if needed.

“No need to get violent Em. You’ll be in the air in less than thirty.”

“We’ll have to be quicker than that.” Aaron says as he looks out the window where he sees blue lights in the distance. “We have to go now.”

*

Dave doesn’t think the devastation of making it only minutes too late would be something he’ll ever get over. He will never forget seeing the small plane take off, a shadow of a man looking back at him from the air.

He wouldn’t give up on finding them, but realistically he knew that he might never do. There was no trail where they had gone, no transactions to look into, no bank accounts, not even the people helping their unsubs had their real identeties. It wouldn’t have mattered if they did though, they were gone. All of them.

*

Aaron smiles his thanks at the bartender as he grabs their drinks. The sun was hot on his skin, the sand soft as he walked in his flipflops towards the sunbeds where Emily was laying. She looks up at him from behind her glasses, her skin shining from the lotion and sweat and he licks his lips at the sight.

When he hands her the colorful drink she had asked for, she sits up in her chair. She clinks her glass with his, a smile on her face. “We made it.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #aaron x emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfiction

[inkoutsidethelines]

Thinking about how I would write an adult Scooby-Doo series, because I think it can be done.

The first thing I’d do is make the characters actually be adults.  Still young, but adults, in the mid to late 20s range.  Mystery Inc. is a private detective type business that they run together.  In this universe, the supernatural/ghosts/etc are real, but not necessarily common, so when they take on a case, the culprit might be a person disguised as a monster, or it might actually be a real ghost.  The stakes can be higher; sometimes a bad guy is legitimately trying to kill them.  Sometimes the mystery they’re trying to solve is a murder.  Sometimes they actually get hurt on their cases.

Fred: the core of Fred’s character should be that he’s incredibly kind.  Like, give a stranger the shirt off his back kind.  The “Fred can’t talk to potential clients because he might take a case for free and we need to eat” kind.  He’s an honest and good person and sometimes gets himself into trouble because he assumes other people are too.  While he’s not very good at reading people or noticing ulterior motives, he’s brilliant when it comes to mechanical or engineering type stuff, so he’s the one who keeps the mystery machine running, builds their gadgets, and of course, designs the traps.

Daphne: she comes from old money, and her parents absolutely despise her life choices, to the point where they haven’t officially disowned her, but they have basically cut her off, so she doesn’t actually have access to any family money.  Growing up wealthy has granted her a variety of skills, including speaking multiple languages, horseback riding, and fencing.  She’s very into fashion and jewelry (even if she can’t afford it anymore) and has extensive knowledge of both that can occasionally provide a vital clue in a case. And even though her parents have cut her off, Daphne still has a wide network of contacts she can ask for favors sometimes, because she’s personable, and people tend to like her.  Daphne is also very emotionally intelligent, and is usually the one who can spot when someone is lying to them.

Side note - I ship Fred and Daphne, so I think I would start them off as an established couple for this universe.  Dating, engaged, married, I don’t care.  They are stupidly in love, ride or die for each other.  There’s no will they, won’t they, no worries about cheating.  They are in a healthy, happy, loving relationship, and no one (not even Daphne’s disapproving parents) are going to mess that up for them.

Velma: she is the forensics nerd who sometimes gets super excited about the wrong thing at the wrong time (”He was mummified in seconds? That’s so cool!” “Velma!  His wife is standing right there!” “Oh.  Sorry.”).  She’s not purposely insensitive, she just gets laser focused on her work and forgets to filter herself sometimes.  She’s also the one who can get so fixated on solving whatever mystery they’re working on, she’s willing to bend or maybe break laws.  Is breaking and entering really so bad?  Not if it gets them answers.

Shaggy: he is still the comic relief, but he’s the comic relief by being the only person in the group that actually has common sense.  He manages the business’s finances, he’s the only one who knows how to cook, and the others tease him for being a coward sometimes, but Shaggy maintains that if a ghost with an axe is coming for you, running is the only sensible option.  He should also have a range of random knowledge that sounds useless, but sometimes saves the day (ex ventriloquism, origami, the history of spoons, etc).

Scooby: as this is a universe where supernatural creatures exist, Scooby is an ancient eldritch type being that took a shine to Shaggy when he was a kid, and took the form of a talking dog to befriend and hang out with him.  Aside from the talking dog bit and not aging, he never uses his powers in a way that anyone notices.  The audience is not told upfront that Scooby is an ancient eldritch being; it should slowly be hinted at throughout the series so the audience put it together, but the characters never realize it.  Scooby genuinely considers Shaggy to be his best friend, and cares about the rest of the gang too.

#ink speaks #scooby doo #i like the vibes of a grown up scooby doo #where they're part of a mystery solving business #it needs to be a monster of the week type deal #so that it can play around with the character dynamics #because i think that's fun #long post

[maybeicanbesaved]

,,

#love when i’m having a bad day already and i guess my mom always just thinks ‘hmm now how can i make it worse :) ‘ #legit had to walk away from her in walmart and take a few extra mins in the cat food aisle just to calm myself down bc i was about to cry #i can’t stand people that take things out on others just because they’re in a bad mood #she always does this but later on it’s always ‘wahh poor me you’re such a mean bitch to me’ #…. i’m really not #she’s just so hypocritical and blinded to her bs #i’m so fucking tired of it #thank god i have my next therapy session in two days can’t come soon enough #i swear when i move out i’m taking at least a couple months break from being in contact with her bc i can’t with the toxicity #anyways i’m back home now and finally frustration cried and just needed to vent #thanks ✌️ #personal #vent #tdl

[talkingattumble]

Hi guys! Here’s some advice from a cane user on how to spot a fake cane user/disability faker!

YOU CANT

You can not spot a “fake disabled” cane user. You can not know if someone’s “really disabled”, much less by just looking at them. Here are some common misconceptions.

“Cane users always need their canes. If they walk without it or put it away when it’s inconvenient, they’re faking”: WRONG! Many cane users are what we call “ambulatory” cane users. This means they don’t always need their canes to walk. I’m an ambulatory cane user, and I experience really horrible leg pain on the daily. However, I don’t always use my cane, and when I don’t need to walk or stand a lot in a certain place I don’t use it. And when I do use it, I may lift it off the ground or carry it in places that are sandy, gravelly, or otherwise hinder my cane.

“Cane users walk abnormally without their canes, someone who walks normally without their cane is faking”: WRONG! Many ambulatory cane users can walk in a way that seems “normal”. This doesn’t mean they’re not in pain, or not “really disabled”. This just means that their condition doesn’t cause a noticeable difference in walking, and likely manifests in a different way.

“Cane users always need their cane, someone who doesn’t use their cane at home is faking”: WRONG! Cane users may not use their canes at home, because at home they may be able to do things like sit down wherever and whenever, regain more spoons, and use other mobility aids. Additionally, some ambulatory cane users only need or use their canes when they are doing something physically taxing, like going on a hike or standing in a long line.

“My cane user friend told me this person looks like they’re faking, so it must be true”: WRONG! Being a cane user doesn’t immediately make you an expert on all different conditions and experiences. Your friend does not know the random cane user walking down the street, they are going off looks and stereotypes. Disabled people are not immune to being ableist.

“They enjoy their cane too much/they’re too happy/they decorate their cane, so they can’t actually be in enough pain to need a cane” WRONG! We’re people like everyone else, and we experience positive emotions too, even if we go through a lot of pain. To me, customizing my cane is like getting a tattoo or putting streaks in my hair, it’s a way of self expression. And we deserve to be able to talk openly about our full experience, which include the parts we’re neutral or happy about.

“They’re one of those cringey teenagers who name themselves arson and like dsmp, so they’re probably faking” WRONG! Do I even have to explain why saying someone isn’t disabled because of their name and interests is messed up and also stupid? Or did you already know that and just wanted to make fun of a disabled teenager?

“They’re too young to be using a cane, so they must be faking” WRONG! there are lots of disabilities or injuries that can cause young people to need a mobility aid. For example, I use a cane for my fibromyalgia.

“They only use it in private places, and never in places where people recognize them, so they must be faking” WRONG! In a world where anyone can just randomly take out their phone, take a picture of a cane user, and post them online to be made fun of, it can be stressful to use a cane in public areas. Also, they may not want people to ask questions, or they may feel embarrassed about it.

“I saw them switch hands, so they must be faking” WRONG! There are different reasons a cane used might do this, but I’m going to use my experience as an example. My fibromyalgia is not consistent. Sometimes one leg hurts more then the other. But as I said, fibromyalgia is inconsistent, and sometimes my other leg will start to hurt more or need more support, which is when I switch hands. And when both my legs hurt equally, I may switch my hand if it’s getting too sore.

“They told me they feel like they’re faking when they use their cane, doesn’t that mean they don’t really need it?” WRONG! Imposter syndrome is strong in a lot of disabled people, especially when for a lot of our lives we were told by doctors that we were fine and just being dramatic. Anxiety is also comorbid with a lot of physically disabilities, which only strengthens this. To add to this, something that I’ve felt and seen other disabled people talk about it, when their disability aid lessens the pain, they start thinking “well I’m not in that much pain so I don’t really need it” even though the reason they’re not in that much pain is because of the aid. I know it seems dumb, but imposter syndrome can be that strong and affects disabled people a lot.

“They don’t have a diagnosis, so they must be faking” WRONG! First of all, diagnoses are expensive. On their own they’re often already expensive, but counting the tons of tests you have to take to confirm the diagnosis? Absolutely ludicrous. Some may also choose not to get a diagnosis, so that they don’t have to deal with the prejudice and setbacks of being diagnosed. Also, some people use a cane for injuries, and for stress or fatigue related pains.

These are only a few of the things I commonly hear from fakeclaimers, and I wanted to just put out a reminder that fakeclaiming hurts the disabled community much, much more than it does ableists. Next time you see someone with a cane switch hands, or someone with a wheelchair stand up, or someone with crutches put them down, before you immediately call them out to a friend, take a picture, or write a post: does your fakeclaim rely on stereotypes? Are your reasons things that apply to ambulatory aid users?

If so, just stop. Be mindful. Please.

#fuck fakeclaimers #fakeclaiming cw #anti fakeclaiming #disability #cane user #mobility aid #ableism mention #fibromyalgia #mobility aid user

[hysteria-things]

please write a story where either chris or matt is veryyyy dominant and can throw the reader around (might sound weird) but like a size difference 🙏

CAMPSITE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you feel sex deprived when you go camping with your boyfriend and his brothers for a few days, and you don’t think you can wait any longer.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, heavy petting, semi-public (?), marking, p in v, degradation, mentions blood, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,038

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: combined these two because they both fit the idea when i was brainstorming! hope you guys like it :)

“is everybody in?” matt asks as he turns the keys into the golf kart ignition. the boys have a campsite on a campground, and you guys have been going camping every few weeks. it’s summertime, so it’s the perfect weather to do things.

the campground is nice. it’s big with other people’s trailers there, dogs and little kids run around from morning to curfew.

doing activities like this is nice to get away from life for a bit, especially social media. having to text people back can be so exhausting.

a seatbelt clicks behind you. “yup. all ready.” chris says.

the sun is setting, and you hear the weekend band playing in the distance. matt’s driving of course, and you’re in the passenger seat. nick and chris are in the back facing outward.

the music starts to get closer as matt drives down the small hill that leads to the main part of the grounds. there’s a dog park, a horseshoe game setup, a lounge, and a playground/basketball court. the stage is just outside of the lounge and the bathrooms are on the other side.

there’s a fire going in the middle of where the picnic tables are. people from around the campgrounds are either sitting or standing by their golf karts, some dogs barking as well.

kids play on the playground and matt finds a spot to park. rainbow beams flood the air from the stage, the band singing whatever country song they’re playing.

fairy lights hang on the trees above. the four of you get up from the kart, heading closer to the stage. not too close, but close enough to get a better view.

the music is loud, people’s voices echoing through your head. cigarette smoke enters your nostrils and the sounds of beer cans opening flood your ears.

you would think this type of scene isn’t for the triplets and you’re not wrong, but something about being in the wilderness is so calming.

matt wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close and swaying to the music. the only downside of this trip is that you can’t have sex.

not to sound like a fiend, but you get sexually frustrated when you go a few days without it. you bite your lip as you start getting dirty thoughts in your mind, squirming in your boyfriend’s grasp.

“you okay?” he asks, a little loud so you can hear him over the music.

“mhm,” you say with a nod.

you put your hands behind your back, reaching towards matt’s crotch. it’s dark enough that people can’t see what you’re doing, but they’re all distracted anyway. however, you’re so close to his body that people definitely can’t see what you’re doing.

you start to palm his dick through his jeans, and he takes an arm off your shoulder and holds your hand still. “stop.”

obviously, you don’t listen, and you move your hand again. he’s starting to grow at your touch, but grips your hand tighter. “stop.”

you look at him innocently over your shoulder, your hand movements becoming faster on his erection. he groans, thrusting his hips slightly into your palm.

“we’ll be right back,” he says out of nowhere, lifting you over his shoulder since he’s so much bigger than you. he walks away before the other two can say anything, and he doesn’t bother taking the golf kart.

nick and chris stare at each other. “they’re going to fuck.” chris says, taking a sip out of the pepsi that he brought with him.

“oh, yeah.” nick agrees.

the walk back to the trailer feels short as you giggle back. matt’s boner hurts like a bitch as he opens the door and goes into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. “think you’re funny, huh?” he says lowly, immediately taking his shirt and jeans off.

you don’t say anything. except you look at him with doe eyes. then, he starts taking off your clothes. you’ve been waiting for this.

his dick springs out when he takes his boxers down, and it does look like it hurts.

he starts to crawl on top of you but then flips over causing you to gasp. you’re now straddling his lap.

you don’t have a chance to react when he grabs your hips and slams you down onto his cock. you whine as you feel him stretch you out completely. you start to bounce slowly, putting your head into his neck to leave kisses.

matt hisses when you bite down, sucking and marking his neck. you repeat that action multiple times, still bouncing painfully slowly.

he sighs annoyingly, flipping you over once again and pulling you closer by the legs before slamming into you immediately at an ungodly pace.

“matt!” you scream, your nails digging into his shoulders. “f-fuck!”

“you think you can tease me and get away with it? think again, sweetheart.”

you whimper, your back arching with each thrust. you repeat his name along with moans and cries of pleasure.

“or is this what you wanted?” he asks, grunting at the sudden pain in his back as you drag your nails when he hits your g-spot suddenly. “i should’ve taken you right then and there so people know what a fucking slut you are.”

“i-i’m—” your cut off when your legs start to shake, your eyes rolling back when the knot in your stomach is close to snapping.

the scratches you’re leaving on matt’s back start to bleed the deeper your nails dig, and he moans at the feeling. “you’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that shit.” he says through gritted teeth, getting close to his orgasm because he knows he’s making you feel this good.

a shaky moan leaves your mouth when you start to cum around his dick. he grunts as he thrusts into you two or three more times before pulling out and cumming on your stomach.

you pant and quiver, a smug smile on your lips. matt turns his back to retrieve your guys’ clothes, and your eyes widen. his back is red, scratches of different shades running down his bare skin. “your back… is fucked up.” you say between pants.

he smirks. “wouldn’t be the first time.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[steddiealltheway]

It starts out simple. Eddie notices that Steve sometimes spaces out, but no one really pays him much attention. Usually, he’ll try to enter back into the conversation, and he’ll earn a few eye rolls when he has no idea what anyone’s talking about.

But what really haunts Eddie is the way Steve will sometimes be zoned out with his jaw and fists clenched, looking as if he’s reliving the worst of the upside down. He’ll gradually come out of it, and sometimes Robin will nudge him and quietly whisper if he’s okay, but he just shakes it off.

It’s like he has to appear fine in front of everyone, but Eddie gets it. He’s not sure what the group would do if Steve fell apart.

But a few times, he looks like he’s on the verge of it.

One time, he’s far away enough from everyone that Eddie is able to inconspicuously make his way to the former jock and nudge him. “Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks.

Steve startles and Eddie watches as the tension in him increases then slowly releases until he appears “normal.”

Eddie grabs his wallet and sifts through it before finally finding what he wants. A single dull penny.

He hands it to Steve who takes it and starts fiddling with it. He glances back at everyone else to make sure they’re out of earshot before he answers, “I’m just scared that maybe this Vecna creep will return, you know? It’s happened four times by now. How do we know it’s over?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He’s gone through the same thought process of wondering if he’ll be back. If life will return to hell again. But he can’t imagine what it’s been like for Steve whose done it multiple times.

But he’s been able to logic his way out of his anxiety before. “Well, we have Will who has the whole Spidey-sense thing going on, so we’ll know if he’s back but… remember what El said. She felt it. Like it was finished this time. For good.”

Steve just nods and Eddie sees the tiniest shred of anxiety slip away. “Plus,” Eddie continues, “Can’t let our hero boy do all the worrying or his strength might deplete. How about I do all the worrying and standing guard tonight, huh?”

Steve glances over at him for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s going to laugh him off or something. Instead, he lets out a shaky sigh, puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie watches as Steve pockets the penny and actually heads toward the group with a smile on his face. He smiles and looks around. Time to stand guard.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie almost forgets about it, but it’s probably the whole not-getting-any-sleep-because-he-keeps-having-nightmares thing. It’s been a particularly bad week when he finds himself in the Harrington home with all the gremlins and other adults. He wants to be all bigger than life / life of the party, but his energy is gone.

He sits at the kitchen island on a barstool with his head in his hands, staring at the granite slab of the countertop when a hand and something slides into his view.

The hand pulls back and Eddie gets sight of a penny. What the-?

He looks up to see Steve sitting next to him with a small smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks.

Eddie stares at him and feels his heart flutter but he wills that to die down a bit. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just…” he glances off to see if anyone else is in earshot before continuing, “I keep getting these damn nightmares. Sometimes about… Chrissy… sometimes about random stressful shit, but they just won’t stop. It’s like although Vecna’s gone, he’s always here.”

Steve’s gaze has turned sympathetic as he runs a hand through his hair and looks around before lowering his voice. “I’ve been through the same thing, but I’ve found that it’s easier getting through the night with other people. Don’t tell anyone, but I snuck into Robin’s room for weeks after the whole Russian torture thing. But hey, if you want to crash here with me tonight, I’d be more than happy to have you.” Steve glances away from Eddie and runs a hand through his hair again as a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Hell, you’d be helping me out too, man.”

Eddie considers it and immediately feels a wave of relief flood through him at the thought. He pockets the penny and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “That’d be great. Thank you. Really,” Eddie says with a smile and eases himself off the barstool.

He hears Dustin raising his voice in the other room and Eddie says to Steve, “Time to ware out the children.”

Steve just laughs and joins him, but Eddie sees another tiny piece of tension leave his body.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It slowly becomes their thing. Eddie finds himself keeping pennies on himself at all times just in case, but by some strange fate, him and Steve always use that same penny.

Sometimes it pressed into Eddie’s palm, Eddie once throws it at Steve yelling, “catch!”, and sometimes it just appears in one of their vision.

The thoughts range from stupid things like Steve trying to remember if he turned off the oven to Eddie’s Dnd campaign to the overwhelming trauma from the Upside Down seeping into their lives.

Along with the penny becoming a regular thing, Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed becomes a regular thing too. At first, it’s a bit awkward as they try to find out how much space each of them needs, what side of the bed they prefer, what they’re like in the mornings, and overall just how to be around each other when sharing a bed.

It shifts when one night, Eddie notices Steve staring at the ceiling wide awake. Eddie leans over the side of the bed where his pants are and digs into his pocket to retrieve the penny which he gently lays on Steve’s chest.

Steve glances down and carefully picks it up, twirling it as Eddie watches the coin slightly glint in the moonlight. There’s a deep breath and then Steve is saying, “I was just thinking about what if we… I don’t know. Like… held each other? Or rather, I was thinking that it would be nice to be held.”

Steve sets the penny down on the nightstand which indicates the end of his thoughts but he doesn’t dare turn to face Eddie. But Eddie is already scooting closer to press his body against Steve who instantly curls into Eddie’s embrace holding him as if he’ll escape if he tries to let go. But Eddie would never escape.

And every night they hold each other close with no questions asked and no penny needed.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie’s feelings for Steve grow. He knows they’ve been there since the beginning, but with the whole penny thing, it’s like he has the key to all of Steve’s deepest thoughts and desires. He knows that Steve has access to his as well and is just thankful that Steve’s never given him the penny when Eddie’s been staring at him. He knows he can’t lie to Steve, and it may be dumb, but he especially can’t lie with that penny in sight.

So, he says nothing. He keeps holding Steve through the night, comforting him if he’s awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, but usually just laying there willing himself to stay awake as long as he can so he can bask in the sensation of holding Steve Harrington.

Then, one morning as Steve makes them breakfast, Eddie looks at him for a little too long, wondering how he’s been able to live his life without him when that penny is slid into his sight.

Eddie blinks down at it and swallows as Steve looks at him. “You,” Eddie blurts out, “I was just thinking about you.”

Eddie leaves the penny on the table because he knows that’s not enough of his thoughts. Steve turns back to scrape the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put some butter on their toast before he turns back to Eddie. He doesn’t pry, but through the breakfast the penny stays in sight.

Eddie’s plate is clear when he finally fully answers, “I was just thinking about how much better my life has been since you’ve come into it, and… thank you.” He feels blood rise to his cheeks and finds Steve with a similar blush.

“I was thinking the same about you,” Steve responds and takes their plates to clean them before Eddie can respond.

He knows he’s falling in love with him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It’s a few mornings later, and Eddie feels someone watching him. It doesn’t feel creepy or bad because he can feel the way that Steve has shifted to lean over him. Eddie opens his eyes slowly and takes in the view of Steve staring down at him with a small smile on his face. Eddie rolls towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are piled up and grabs the penny before rolling back to Steve.

He gently presses it into Steve’s hand who continues to stare down at him with a look in his eyes that Eddie can only assume is reflected in his own gaze.

Steve takes a deep breath and whispers, “I was just thinking that I might be in love with you.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, and he feels Steve’s hand shift to press the penny into his. Eddie smiles and replies, “I think I might be in love with you too.”

Steve smiles all wide and bright in the way that makes Eddie feel like he’s the luckiest person in the world to be able to see it. Then, Steve’s hand is intertwining with Eddie’s and as the penny presses into their palms, they both lean in and kiss, only breaking away when they both break into wide smiles and begin laughing as all the tension drains from them.

Years later, Eddie gets the penny turned into a ring and when he gets down on one knee, all he asks is, “Penny for your thoughts?”

AO3 Link (for @humanityinahandbag <3)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

[taexoxosgf]

DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

​​"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.���

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

#nct #nct dream #park jisung #jisung #park jisung smut #jisung x reader #nct jisung #jisung smut #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung x you #park jisung fic #park jisung nct #nct x you #nct smut #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #nct x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct dream hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream jisung #nct dream x y/n #nct dream fic #kpop

[avis-writeshq]

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ���groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?” 

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

*** 

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

*** 

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

*** 

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up. 

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[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

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#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

[rosepascal]

Lacy || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel has a new girlfriend and it's eating you alive inside, especially when she's so perfect.

warnings: angst to fluff, happy ending!! reader gets minorly injured (cuts hand on accident), jealousy, bad feelings, self deprecation kinda, implied something happened to make reader not want to go on patrols anymore but nothing specific.

a/n: heres my jealousy fic loosely based on Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. I low key love these kinda fics so I hope I did the trope justice

Perfect Perfect Perfect. She’s just so. Fucking perfect. Your body moves on auto pilot as your brain spirals into the depths of hatred and loathing.

All because of Joel’s new girlfriend.

Your mind is torn between raging jealousy and embarrassment. You and Joel were nothing. Just friends. You worked odd jobs in Jackson and would cross paths with Joel often. He wasn’t very friendly at first but soon enough you managed to break down his initial suspicion.

You became closer than most. At least you thought you were. You’d only seen him joke and smile around Ellie so when he laughed at one of your jokes you felt your stomach flip. He brought you little trinkets he found on patrols too. Small things, things that most people wouldn’t care about but Joel brought them to you so of course you cherished them like they were gold.

Then she came to town.

It was embarrassing how much you let your mind turn to jealousy and resentment. Lacy was beautiful, strong, and the nicest fucking person in town. She’s sweet and helpful and so smart. She’s everything you feel like you’re not. So why wouldn’t Joel be attracted to her? They’re patrol partners too. You see them every morning and come back every afternoon.

You don’t go on patrol. Not anymore. Joel knew that, he never asked and you never told him. He doesn’t care though. You pull your weight just as much as everyone and Joel respects that. Some people don’t. So to have Joel tell you he doesn’t care what you do, it always makes you happy. Still you wonder if he’d like you if you did go on patrol. If you could spend hours with him outside the walls, just the two of you. Maybe he’d compliment your shots or offer his jacket to keep you warm. Like he does for her.

You saw them once coming back inside the gates. His jacket was draped across her shoulders and your heart cracked. You bet it was romantic too. He noticed she was cold and so he happily gave her his jacket. How cute. You walked away from them and buried yourself into kitchen work. Helping stock and prep for dinner. Your brain is still thinking of her.

The worst part is she isn’t someone you can't even hate. She’s only been kind to you. Always offering her help to anyone who needs it. Her smile is so perfect and she makes everyone happy. Especially Joel. Joel always seems to be talking with her which is a big deal for the man who only communicated in noises the first time you met. For fucks sakes she even bakes cookies in her spare time.

You try to avoid seeing them but somehow it’s like they always pop up where you are. Tonight they’re patrons at the bar where you’re serving as bartender for the night.

“Hi there darlin’” Joel’s voice makes your heartbeat a little faster but you see Lacy standing right beside him.

“Whiskey on the rocks, right?” You blurt out without thinking. He looks surprised at first but nods.

“One for me too please.” Lacy asks nicely. You give her a tight smile and nod silently. It doesn’t take long to pour their drinks and Joel takes them both, gesturing to her to go sit.

“Thank you,” He says with a small smile.

“Anytime.” Though other people come and go, you can’t help but keep your eyes on them. Every time they laughed or smiled or got closer, it made your blood boil. You were jealous, you hated this feeling. You hated feeling the anger that burned inside of you. You hated how much you hated her. It made you sick but you couldn’t get yourself to look away. It’s like you secretly wanted to watch your whole world burn. You watch as she says something and Joel leans in closer, his lips barely ghosting her ear as he rests his arm on the booth behind her. The chatter of the bar stops as the sound of a glass shattering. It’s only when everyone’s eyes land on you do you realize you made the noise. The wine glass in your hand is now in pieces on the counter and your hand is covered in small cuts from the glass. You could feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you as someone moves to help.

“I’m okay,” You say quickly, grabbing a rag and putting it around your hand.

“I uh, I’ll be back.” You mutter, humiliation growing as you shrink under the looks of everyone. You rush out the back door. Sighing you put your head down on your knees as you slide down the wall. Your jealousy got the best of you and it feels so ugly. You slowly pick the glass out of your hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You look up and your eyes widen. There stands Lacy, the last person you expected to see.

“Are you sure? I can go get you some gauze.”

“I said I’m fine.” You snap. She takes a step back and you immediately feel the guilt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I…I’m sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping she leaves you alone so you can wallow in your misery.

“It’s okay,” She says gently. Lacy walks closer to you and you look up at her.

“I can’t help but feel like we’ve never really gotten along and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.” Her words are so genuine that it makes you sick. She’s just so perfect and nice and it makes you feel awful.

“No no, you did nothing wrong. I promise. It’s all me.” She looks down next to you and you offer her to sit.

“I’m sorry if I came off cold, you’re really nice and It’s something to do with me.” You explain.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to get to know you better if you want. Joel talks about you all the time.” She says. That catches your attention.

“He does?” You ask. She giggles and nods her head.

“Don’t tell him I told you but he really likes you, he just won’t admit it.” You can’t believe what she’s saying. It doesn’t make sense. He's so happy with her, and spends time with her. They’re perfect for each other.

“What? I thought you two were dating.” You look shocked as she shakes her head.

“We’re not. Me and Joel were both from the Boston QZ, I helped him out from time to time so we were kind of friends.” You guess that explains why he warmed up to her so fast but still.

“He won’t admit it to me but I know he likes you. He always wonders what you’re doing in town that day and when we go on supply runs he tries to subtly ask about things for you but he’s not very subtle.” She says, smiling as she remembers the shitty excuses Joel would make for picking up the tattered journal. He told her about you, that you used to keep one before the outbreak and you missed it. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t really seen him much lately…” You know it's partially your fault for avoiding him but he didn’t really make much effort to see you either.

“I told him to talk to you but he started to get nervous.” She says while rolling her eyes.

“Joel nervous?” You ask in disbelief.

“I know! He totally denied it when I asked. Said he doesn’t get nervous in that crabby voice he does.” She says while laughing.

“Oh my god he really does do that voice doesn’t he. Especially when he’s trying to reprimand Ellie.” You say while laughing with her.

“And she never listens.” Lacy adds. It feels nice to laugh with her. Though now you feel silly for feeling so jealous.

“I think I owe you an apology Lacy, the truth is I was jealous of you. You’re just, so amazing and cool and nice. I thought you were perfect for Joel and I just, I wanted to be perfect for Joel.” You admit sheepishly. "I shouldn't have avoided you the way I did."

“Thank you for the apology and it's okay. As for Joel, you are perfect for him.” She hugs you and it takes you a moment before you hug her back.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel’s voice makes you jump.

He’s come to check on the two of you. The butterflies you felt before come back in full force as you see him standing there. His eyes darting to your cut up hand.

“You should really get that fixed up.” He kneels down in front of you and checks your hand over. Lacy gets up and winks at you.

“I’ll leave you to it Joel,” She nudges him and he grumbles about something. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up before disappearing back inside.

Even though his hands are rough he handles yours with such care. Making sure not to hurt you as he checks for glass. He reaches into his small bag and pulls out a rag and wraps it around your hand.

“This’ll be okay for now but you need to put some salve on it and wrap it with a bandage.” Joel finishes wrapping your hand but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

His hands are so warm. You notice how tense he seems. He’s nervous. With the boost of confidence from Lacy you bite the bullet and speak.

“I like you. A lot.” You confess.

“I uh-” He doesn’t know what to say as you take him by surprise.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner.” Your voice gets smaller as you speak. Worried that you were right and he doesn’t feel the same.

“I got you somethin’” He reaches into his little bag and pulls out a small book.

“You told me about keepin’ a diary and well I found this and thought you could start again, if you wanted to.” He hands it to you, it's a little ripped but still intact. It’s clearly been patched up. The leather cover has been cleaned and there's a new ribbon around the center.

“Oh Joel, it’s perfect.” You run your hands along the spine in awe.

“I would love to go to dinner with you darlin’’” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Helping you up he takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders.

“Let me walk you back.” He places his hand on the small of your back.

You glance in the window of the bar and see Lacy talking with a few people. She makes them laugh and this time you smile. She catches your gaze and smirks, seeing Joel’s jacket and him so close.

For once it feels like you can breathe, the bitter feelings are gone. It’s a new start, a new friend gained in Lacy and hopefully a new love that will last forever.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks as he notices you in your head. Looking over at him you smile and he pulls you closer.

“I’m perfect Joel, just perfect.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.

I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.

misc character masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah

1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.

I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.

Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’

He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.

The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.

But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.

It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.

2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.

At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.

I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.

On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.

“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.

“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.

Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.

“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.

It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.

When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.

“What do you want?”

All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.

“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”

The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.

He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.

“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”

Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.

Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?

3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.

Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.

His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.

You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.

“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.

“You’re in my spot.”

“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”

You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”

If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.

“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.

“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.

“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.

You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."

He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.

Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction

[lexirosewrites]

Steddie as rival lawyers who have very different careers.

Steve became a prosecuting attorney after graduating from a top school at his parents’ insistence. It pays well and makes them happy, even if it’s joyless for him to fight for things he doesn’t believe in.

Prosecuting innocent people and fighting for the sake of money without morals.

On the other end of the spectrum is free-spirited Eddie Munson. He’s a defense attorney who shows up in ill-fitting suits that show off his many neck and hand tattoos. Piercings in his ears and hair that’s not tidy or tamed in any way.

He’s a rebel who barely graduated from some lower tier law school with no prestige whatsoever.

Steve naturally assumed their first trial would be a breeze.

But somehow— sheer dumb luck, bad jury selection, or just stupid fate— Eddie wins. And he keeps winning.

Over and over for months.

Steve’s long uninterrupted winning streak becomes a losing one. If Eddie’s in the courtroom too, Steve knows he’s already lost his case.

It’s humbling.

Actually, it’s frankly embarrassing to lose to someone who’s so unprofessional and doesn’t take the law seriously like Steve.

Eddie is respectful of course, but he doesn’t use lawyer-speak unless he’s referencing a precedent of a law. Other than that, he’s overly casual and friendly. Everyone’s favorite lawyer.

He doesn’t lack passion though. No, the guy all but hops up on tables to make speeches about freedom or the American dream during every trial. Utterly ridiculous.

It works though. The juries fall for his bullshit about being down to earth and his clients walk free because of it.

Steve can’t stand it. He can’t stand Eddie and his mockery of his career.

This ultimately culminates in a confrontation in the parking lot one night after a particularly tense trial conclusion.

Once again, Eddie’s guy walked free and Steve knows he’s gonna hear about it from his boss (who also happens to be his dad).

So he might snap a bit when Eddie comes out whistling and looking happier than anything.

“Hey, jackass!”

Eddie looks around like Steve might be referring to some other jackass, despite the otherwise empty parking lot.

He points to himself in question and Steve rolls his eyes in answer.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie finally greets him with a smirk. “Chinese takeout for tonight sound good?”

Steve’s stomach growls at the mere suggestion.

He’d accidentally skipped lunch earlier so he could make changes to his closing argument. Fat load of good that did him.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You’re not off the hook that easily though. What the hell was that brutal cross examination on my witness, you dickhead?”

Eddie smiles extra sweetly and presses a quick but affectionate kiss to Steve’s forehead first.

“All’s fair in love, war, and court, baby. You can whine about it later when we’re home if you really want to. I happen to know some very nice pillows that would love to muffle your pretty little moans.”

Asshole.

He blushes, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone before he pulls Eddie into an embrace.

They’ve barely spent any time together this week because of the tense trial and he really missed his boyfriend (not to be mistaken for the jackass who argues with him daily in the courtroom).

As much as they can separate their personal and work lives, it’s hard to not be on the same side of things.

“What if I want you to hear me moan, Eddie? I think it’s only fair since you seem to get everyone else off and I’m the one always suffering for it,” he mumbles snarkily into Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie laughs at the pun. He knew that he would.

“Is that why you’re sulking, babylove? You want me to get you off too?” He nods with a pathetic whine. Not getting to cum for a few days can do that to a person. “I think that can be arranged. You’ve been such a good boy for me lately. You’ve earned a treat.”

Steve melts into his boyfriend’s arms, feeling loved.

“I missed you.”

Another kiss to the forehead, but this time Eddie’s lips linger there as he speaks.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Not sorry for winning, but I am sorry that you lost.”

Steve knew the defendant was innocent. There wasn’t much of a case to be made anyway. It still stings though.

“Yeah... I’ve been thinking about that and it might be time to quit my dad’s firm. I’d much rather be on the same side as you,” Steve confesses.

Eddie pauses.

“Does that mean…”

Steve looks up smiling and confirms, “Yes. I’ll accept the job offer if it’s still on the table.”

The rival lawyer had offered him a job months ago, before they even got together.

By accepting the position, it means they’d finally be allowed to be a couple publicly and they’d be sitting on the same side of the court for once.

It would also free Steve from his dad’s control and disappointment.

“Stevie, I’d love nothing more than to have you as my partner. In both the court and life. I love you, sweetheart.”

He can’t resist.

“I love you too… jackass.”

Eddie makes good on his promise to get Steve off that night. He even brings out the handcuffs for accuracy sake.

#don’t ask me how we got here because I have no idea #enemies to lovers as rival lawyers makes sense maybe #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet

[reminiscingtonight]

A Chaotic Sort Of Love

Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

Word Count: 707

A/N: You can’t expect Taylor to drop an album and me to not write a crackfic about a song

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I have something to tell you.”

Leah’s deep in conversation with the other Lia when you interrupt. 

The locker room’s mostly empty by now, only a few of your teammates still hanging around. 

You’ve planned this entire thing out to the T. Even down to who’s still in the locker room. There’s not enough people around where news of what you have to share would spread like a wildfire, but there’s still enough where the necessary people would stop Leah if it all got out of hand. 

Alessia’s meekly standing beside you when your sister looks up. Lia simply shrugs when she’s given a questioning look. Despite the two of them being the best of friends, you still go to the older girl for advice quite often. But whatever this is about you haven’t told her a thing.

Leah gestures for you to continue. 

You swallow nervously. “Okay. Well. Less and I… we’re dating.”

And just like that, the air turns frosty.

“You and Alessia are what?” Leah’s eyes instantly narrow as she fixes her gaze upon the striker by your side. Despite towering over both you and Leah, Alessia wilts, her height doing nothing to dissuade Leah from taking a menacing step forward.

You shift yourself so that you’re between the two blondes. “Relax, Leah.”

“You want me to relax? Well I want you to not be corrupted by two-left feet, stumbling, doe-eyed… giants!”

Someone snorts from across the room at Leah’s floundering insult, and Leah’s quick to send her glare after its owner.

You roll your eyes. “I want you to relax because I’m actually pregnant. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Leah jerks her head back so suddenly you’re a bit worried about whiplash. Her eyes dart between you, Alessia, and then your stomach. She’s silent for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she looks for something to say. “You’re what?”

You shrug, letting out a loud sigh. 

Leah takes another tentative step forward. You can feel Alessia stiffen a bit more behind you. But this time Leah’s only focused on your stomach. 

“Are you really--”

“No!” You slap Leah’s hand away before it can make contact. “I’m into women Leah. This woman,” you gesture backwards towards Alessia. The blonde instantly drops her eyes, internally groaning at the way you continue to rile up your sister. “I’m not pregnant. But you should’ve really seen your face when I said I was.”

Leah reaches out again but this time you’ve already darted away towards the safety of the older Lia. 

The Swiss woman looks mildly amused, holding out a hand to stop your advancing sister. 

“But--”

“They’re young but your sister is her own person.”

“What if--”

“Own person,” Lia repeats, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

It always amuses you to see how much your sister defers to Lia when the Swiss woman takes charge.

Leah’s nose flares in annoyance, but even you can see when she decides against challenging the other woman. “Fine. But just let me get this straight--”

“Nothing straight about this at all, Lee.”

“Dude,” comes an exasperated sigh from across the room. You look up to see Katie shaking her head at you, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. 

You know you’re in for it when even Katie thinks you’ve gone too far. 

To your surprise, however, Leah simply takes a deep breath in. When she finally exhales, she seems less peeved. She shrugs, turning towards her locker to shove her clothes into her bag. “I’m sure you can be dating worse people. Less is nice enough.”

“That’s it? No lecture? No scaring Lessi away from me?”

“No. But I just-- hold on.” Leah grabs your arm, stopping you before you can dart away to your own locker. You meet her eyes head on, not really sure if she’s going to tear you another one or not. From the corner of your eye you can see Lia tensing again, but her next words have you all relaxing. 

“You’re not pregnant,” Leah asks, double checking just for her sanity.

“No--” Alessia pipes up from beside you, shaking her head. 

“Not yet,” you grin.

Leah curses when you duck under her outstretched hands. “Get back here you imp!”

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

[clockwayswrites]

Danny & Constantine, Orange, Butterscotch Ripple

@imbreonix Prompt fill set #4

It started out as a joke that turned into an actual event: Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It sounded absurd, of course it did. The Justice League was hardly work and certainly not a social club, but once it had been said people started to actually think about it. More and more of the heroes were taking on mentorship rolls for the next generation. While the heroes, of course, tried their best to provide what their mentees needed, they were still grown, experienced heroes and their sidekicks were kids.

Kids who lived a life that most could never understand.

Eventually it have been talked about enough in passing and over rushed meals and before meetings that it ended up on the agenda.

“Robin believes it would be beneficial for the younger heroes to know others in the same positions as themselves,” Batman had explained, as if that answered anything. The Big Bat wouldn’t even clarify who Robin was.

But there they were, Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It actually was a pretty nice event with snacks, drinks, and several enthusiastic sidekicks. It turned out Robin was Batman’s sidekick.

“Partner,” Robin insisted boldly, whenever the term sidekick was used within his hear range (which was disturbingly good).

The kid was the very opposite of Batman: bright, personable, and always in motion. Flash was more than a little concerned how quickly Robin and Kid Flash seemed hit it off. “They’re plotting something.”

“Hn,” was Batman’s reply, though he was watching the two whispering sidekicks too.

All in all it was a cheerful success.

It made John’s skin crawl. He jiggled the unlit cigarette in his fingers. He didn’t do social events, not outside of bars, and he really, really didn’t want to be here.

“We can just go back to the House,” a small, nervous voice suggested hopefully from behind John.

That was the thing, though, he wasn’t here for his own sake.

“No, we can’t,” John said with a sigh.

“We really can, though. We haven’t even talked to anyone. I bet they haven’t even noticed we’re here—”

“John! I did not think you would be attending,” Wonder Woman said as she approached, a smile in place. A good chunk of the founding members trailed after her.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a little shrug. He didn’t admonish the kid for cussing, he didn’t have a leg to stand on there, but by Superman’s puzzled face the Big Blue had clearly heard it. “Figured I had better bring the kid.”

“The kid?” Hal repeated incredulously.

John reminded himself he really shouldn’t punch his teammates.

“Yeah, the kid,” John said. He stepped aside to reveal Danny who had been hiding behind him. “Geist, Justice League, Justice League, Poltergeist.”

“Um, who, Constantine?” Flash asked, sounding nervous.

John looked to his right, which for all appearances, was an empty spot of air. “Seriously, kid?”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered.

“It’s okay, kid,” John said, holding back a sigh. The kid was sensitive to that sort of thing, so John had been trying. (He still messed up plenty, but he was trying.) John looked back the Justice Leaguers and shrugged. “Ghost. Visibility is like that sometimes.”

“Ah,” Diana said with a sage nod. John admired the woman for how nothing seemed to phase her. She simply looked to where John had been looking and smiled. “Hello, Poltergeist. Welcome to Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day.”

“Partner!” a kid dressed like a damn traffic light called from across the room where he was talking to who was clearly a mini Flash.

“Oh,” Danny said. (It was clearly weirding out some of the heroes to hear Danny but not see him.) “I’m not… John doesn’t let me help that much? I don’t know if I count as a sidekick.”

“That’s because last time you tagged along you went intangible and fell through a bridge, kid,” John grumbled and then immediately felt bad. “You know we’re working on it.”

“Yeah,” Danny mumbled.

John couldn’t see Danny, not any more than the others, but he could picture the way the kid would be scuffing his toe on the floor, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

John sighed. “Ain’t your fault kid, powers take time to master.”

“Robin,” Batman called.

Immediately the tiny traffic light was literately bounding across the space to stand next to Batman. The kid smiled up at the Big Bat like the man had hung the moon.

“Yes, B?”

“This,” Batman said, nodding to the empty space, “is Poltergeist. He came with Constantine.”

“Oh,” Robin said. He spun to face the spot of air and held out his hand without hesitation. “Come, Kid Flash and I are— um,” Robin shot Batman a look, “talking. You can join us! I bet you will be really useful!”

Flash mouthed the word ‘useful’ with a terrified look on his face, but no one actually said anything while Robin just stood there, smiling, with his hand out. And then Robin’s grin impossibly widened, his hand closed around nothing, and he took off across the room.

“…anyone else worried about that?” John asked after a moment.

“So worried,” Flash said.

“Hn,” Batman added.

“Right then. I need a glass of shitty punch to spike,” John said and abandoned his teammates to find the refreshments. Thank the gods, the fuckers, for hip flasks.

-

“I live with a ghost now, Bats, you’ve got to up your skills if you want to sneak up on me anymore,” John said before taking another sip of his much improved punch.

Batman stepped up into the corner of John’s vision, which felt like such a Bat thing to do, so John felt the placement was very purposeful. John wouldn’t complain, it let him watch Batman without taking his his eyes off where Danny was sitting with Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Danny was pretty see through, but he was slowly becoming more visible the longer he spent in the company of the other teen heroes.

“How long have you had him?” Batman asked.

John snorted. “That’s what you go with? Not how it works to fuck a ghost?”

Hal and Aquaman weren’t as quiet as they thought they were, but maybe that was on purpose. Maybe they had wanted John to hear. He just hoped the kids hadn’t. He might not have a clean mouth, but even he had limits.

“He doesn’t have to be your blood to be your son,” Batman said in that certain way of his.

It had John finally glancing over at Batman. It was a lot to admit and John hated to be on uneven grounds. “How long have you had yours?”

No one would ever believe him, but John could swear that Batman almost smiled.

“Nearly five years.”

John hummed and took another sip of the punch. “Only six months, not even. And he’s not my son. Kid deserves better than me as a da.”

“They always deserve better,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble that John swore he could feel in his battered bones. “We just have to try to be better.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a bitter chuckle. “I’m not you, Bats, I don’t think I have better in me.”

“Yes you do, you’re here, after all,” Batman pointed out.

John swallowed and looked back the kid, his kid. Danny was almost solid now. His white hair floated as he threw back his head in laughter at something Robin had said.

“Yeah… yeah I am.”

---

AN: So. So. This has gotten away from me. I blame Moku. So much blame. I can't promise I'll continue it but there is... there is a good bit of plotting TO continue it. It would be after I get done with City Pigeons Bleed Green though, as that's my current family feels fic.

If it gets continued we have a John/Bruce tired dads with issues slow burn fuck buddies to lovers, Danny and Dick being friends (and family), canon divergence, Tim joins the Bat family early, Bats with magic (and the world should fear them), and Alfred's judgemental eyebrow.

#dp x dc #dadentine #John Constantine & Danny Fenton #Geist #prompalomp #tired dads