#pre-friends to lovers

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #domestic fluff #getting together #feelings confession #pre-relationship domesticity #post-canon #love builds in the quiet moments #bed sharing #clothes sharing #songwriter eddie munson #steve and wayne are besties #steve and wayne use baseball lingo

[jobean12-blog]

Where You Belong

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (pre or no!outbreak Joel-Friends to Lovers)

Word Count: 2,743

Summary: You and Joel have been friends for a long time and the tension has been building. It's hard to ignore and when he comes to your rescue it's all the push you need.

Author's Note: Just a little something because I love protective boys and love friends to lovers and Joel. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: sweet and fun fluff, some light tension, slightly sketchy boss no one likes, soft and protective Joel, kisses, friends to lovers

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You turn to Joel who’s splayed out on your couch, his arm tucked under his head and his tee shirt riding up just high enough that you can see a sliver of skin.

After staring for a beat too long you shake your head no and he sticks his bottom lip out while making a disgruntled sound.

“I mean you can, I want you to,” you back track, “but it’s a work thing and you’ll probably be bored.”

“Is your new boss goin’ to be there?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, he’s the one who organized it. Claims he wants us to get to know him better.”

You roll your eyes before turning away and searching for the mugs in the cabinet above the stove. Spotting the ones you want you reach up, straining and standing on your tippy toes.

“I don’t like that guy,” Joel grumbles.

“You met him once…for like a minute,” you counter.

“That was enough for me to know,” he says.

“Ugh!” you mutter when you still can’t grasp the mugs.

Suddenly, you feel his warm body press against your back as his arm rises above your head and easily grabs one mug then the other.

“These?” he asks with a boyish smirk.

“Yeah,” you sigh and take them from his hands. “Thanks. What would I do without you?”

You turn and face him, still trapped against the stove when he smiles and says, “I have no idea.”

Pressing a palm to his chest you shove him away and head for the coffee maker. You don’t even ask if he wants a cup, knowing already that he definitely does and just how he likes it.

An hour later when the coffee’s all gone and you’re too comfortable to want to leave you check your phone anyway and sigh.

“Guess it’s time to go,” you say but instead stretch out along the couch and stuff your feet under Joel’s arm.

“You look ready to go,” he chuckles.

Your eyes close but you can’t hide your smile and when he starts tickling your feet you instantly come alive and start kicking at him.

“FINE! I’m going. If you wanted to get rid of me that badly you could have just said so,” you tease.

“I’m at your house babe,” he replies and does nothing to hide his grin.

“Oh. Yeah. Well…” and your words trail off as you stomp into your bedroom to change.

When you emerge from your room, dressed and ready, you’re looking through your bag for your phone and you don’t notice Joel resting along the wall.

“Wow,” he says, louder than intended.

You startle and look up.

“What?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

He clears his throat and waves his hand dismissively before grabbing his keys.

“Maybe I should come with you,” he says, more to himself than you as he tries to keep his eyes glued to your face and not traveling down the rest of your body.

“You’ll hate every minute of it” you tease.

Before you reach your door he’s there and holding it open for you and when you walk toward your car he follows, opening the driver’s side door when you click the lock.

“Ok, well, have fun,” he says.

“Thanks. I’ll try.”

“Call if you need me.”

“I will,” you say quietly.

He presses his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Promise?” he whispers.

“I promise,” you tell him.

His gaze softens and wanders over your face, then he presses a delicate kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You plop down into the seat of the car and wait for him to shut the door. He backs away and watches you pull out of the driveway before heading to his pick-up truck.

“So where is everyone else?” you ask as you sit at the bar and sip your drink.

“Not here yet I guess,” your boss shrugs.

You shift and let your eyes sweep the bar space, silently willing someone else from work to walk in. Your new boss was hired about six months ago. He’s not much older than you and at first seemed nice enough but the more time you’ve spent in his presence the more you notice his lingering glances and unwanted touches.

Thankfully, it’s never gone far enough where you’ve had a problem but you’ve spoken to Joel about it and of course he wants to kick his ass.

Your boss, Scott, leans in closer. Too close and you try to remain unbothered, pulling back only slightly and holding your smile.

“So, tell me more about yourself. I know you’ve been at the company for over a year but since I’ve only been here half that time I’d like to get to know you better,” he croons.

“Umm,” you start as an uncomfortable feeling creeps along the back of your neck. “Well, I uh…love this place. The food is great. You made a good pick.”

He smiles triumphantly at your praise. “Great! Let’s get some dinner then!”

Before you can protest he signals the bartender.

“What’s your suggestion,” Scott asks.

The bartender’s eyes slide to you, a question hanging silently in his gaze, and you smile before saying, “the burgers are really good.”  

“Sounds great,” Scott smiles. “Make it two burgers.”

The bartender nods and walks back toward the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to show up?” you ask.

“They can order something if they come.”  

“If…?” you question, but your next thought is interrupted when he lays a hand on your knee.

Your urge to pull away overrides everything else and you swivel on the stool, placing your drink down on the bar and standing.

“I’m just going to use the restroom before the food comes,” you explain, keeping a strained smile plastered to your face.

Scott smiles back and as you walk away from the bar you can feel his eyes on you the whole time.

When you reach the bathroom you rush inside the door and lock it, quickly grabbing your phone.

“Hey babe,” Joel answers after the first ring, “missed me that much already?”

“Can you come get me?” you ask in a hushed whisper.

“Are you ok?” he asks, his voice suddenly hard and alert.

“I’m fine…I just need you to come and get me…pretend I need to come home or something. I don’t know. Just make it work.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks again and you can hear his keys jangling.

“Yeah, just hurry. My boss is the only one here and he’s being sketchy.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the bathroom.”

“Just stay there. I’ already in the truck.”

“I can’t Joel. I have to go back out. I can’t make this look too weird.”

“I knew I didn’t like this guy. He’s an asshole. I should knock him out flat when I get there.”

“Joel,” you plead.

“Ok sweetheart,” he relents with a softened tone. “I’m already on my way.”

“Ok. I’ll be at the bar.”

You hang up and wash your hands then take a deep breath.

As you walk back to the bar you see Scott searching for you, his smile widening when he spots you approaching.

“There you are,” he says as you sit. “I ordered you another drink.”

“Oh,” you answer, looking at your first drink that’s still half full. “Thanks.”

You make small talk, trying to keep the conversation neutral and focused on easy topics like movies and music. He orders his third drink before the food arrives and you can tell he’s starting to get a little drunk.

The bartender shows up with your food orders and when you don’t take a bite your boss frowns.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

You get the impression he’s waiting for you to take a bite before he does so you pop a fry into your mouth.

“These are really good,” you mumble through the mouthful.

He looks pleased and takes a bite of his burger.

“So is the burger,” he says after swallowing. “Good idea.”

Your eyes slide to the door of the bar when you hear it open but it’s not Joel and your shoulders deflate.

“Everything ok?” Scott asks.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” you answer quickly and drag your eyes from the door.

As you’re slowly sipping your water you see Scott’s fork pause halfway to his mouth. His eyes are trained on something over your shoulder, by the door, and you know Joel has arrived.

You place your drink down and turn. He’s standing just a few feet away, covetous dark eyes focused on you. A familiar awareness races along your skin, heating it but at the same time making you shiver with anticipation.

He starts to move toward you with purposeful steps, his jaw set in determination and his fists clenched at his sides.

Without removing his gaze from you he slowly slides his hand across your shoulders and down your arm, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your palm and then hauls you off the stool into his arms.

You visibly relax and your eyes go bright with relief as he looks you over.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m here.”

You press yourself against his chest and grab a fistful of his shirt.

“Hey yourself.”

Scott clears his throat and it snaps you out of your cocoon of comfort. Reluctantly you put some space between you and Joel and open your mouth to introduce him.

He beats you to it.

“Joel,” he says, holding out his hand. “Her boyfriend.”

Scott looks surprised at first and then skeptical as he reaches his hand out. You can tell Joel shakes it with a death grip and you try to suppress a giggle.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Scott says.

“Well, she definitely is” Joel answers with a hard grind of his jaw.

“That’s too bad for me,” Scott says.

Joel’s arm tightens around your waist and you can hear his growl of disapproval. Scott seems oblivious to his inappropriateness and you want to punch him yourself.

Instead, you ask Joel, “so what’s going on? Is everything ok at home?” You signal as you best you can with your eyes that he better come up with a good excuse as to why he showed up at the bar.

“Right,” Joel says. “I don’t mean to disturb your work get together,” and he says that with a wry smile and a sarcastic tone, “but I need you to come home.”

“We haven’t finished eating,” Scott chimes in.

“We’ll get it wrapped,” Joel replies cooly.

You give his side a little squeeze, hoping to prompt him to elaborate.

“The dog threw up all over the floor. Think she ate something funny. I figured you would want to come home and check on her.”

He says it all in a rush of words, looking worried.

“The dog!” you exclaim. “Oh poor thing.”

Your boss looks between the two of you. “I didn’t know you had a dog either,” he says.

“Well, you mentioned you wanted to get to know me better,” you say, hoping you sound sweet enough.

“So this is my boyfriend Joel and we live together with our dog…Macaroni.”

You can feel Joel’s body shake with his restrained laughter.

“That’s an interesting name…” Scott muses.

“She’s a light beige color and wiggles a lot,” Joel adds. “It fits.”

You laugh and it’s not forced, the whole made up story sounding more and more like a life you could easily and happily live.

When you spot the bartender you ask for a to go container and pack up your barely eaten food. Joel takes out his wallet and drops some cash on the bar.

“I’m sorry I have to run off like this,” you say, feigning disappointment.

“It’s ok,” Scott answers. “It was nice to hang out. Even for a little while. See you Monday.”

Joel nods his goodbye without another word and slides his large hand to the small of your back, directing you toward the door.

“I want turn around and wipe that smile off his face with my fist,” Joel whispers as he leans down close to your ear.

You giggle and walk through the door he holds open for you, taking a deep inhale of the damp night air.

“That was some story you threw together,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, it worked right?! Now let’s get home and check on Macaroni.”

He takes your hand and tugs you toward his pick-up truck.

“But my car,” you say as you pass it by.

“I’m taking you home,” he answers.

“But…”

You reach his truck and he spins you around, pinning you against the door.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Please.”

You blink at him. “Ok.”

“Are you sure nothin’ happened?” he asks for the millionth time.

“I am. He just makes me uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“And you called me,” he says, stepping closer and crowding you against his truck.

At the feel of his body pressed along yours you suck in a breath of air.

“You told me to call…” you start in a whisper. “And you’re the only one I want to call anyway.”  

The wind picks up, whipping around and mussing his hair, the dark curls falling over his forehead. You lift your hand to brush them away and the first raindrop falls, cold and heavy.

“Shit,” Joel mutters when he feels several more drops hit his shoulders.

The sky opens up and the air is filled with the sound of the raindrops pelting the truck. The two of you are quickly getting soaked and his shirt starts to stick to his skin, highlighting every dip and curve of muscle. His dark lashes are thick and damp and his hair hangs loosely around his face, with just a curl at the ends.

His gaze sweeps down your body as your dress does the same, clinging to your wet skin and revealing the lace of your bra.

When his eyes are on yours again they’re filled with unbridled heat and you react by pressing yourself closer and tracing the broad width of his shoulders, your arms circling around his neck and your fingers delving into his hair.

Your lips hover just an inch apart and a low moan slips out of you, the sound making him release a sharp breath.

“Joel,” you whisper, barely audible over the rain.

He presses his palm to your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin and wiping away a drop of rain before he cradles your face and drags your lips to his.

Despite the coolness of the rain his touch is warm, the feeling spreading along your skin as you become soft and pliable in his arms.

You cling to him, matching his heaving breathing when he pulls away. He runs his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, groaning when your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his expression almost pained.

You lick your lips, a clear invite for more, and he almost loses his last thread of sanity.

“Fuck,” he breathes out as his gaze dips to your mouth again, studying your lips like he wants to devour them.

The rain has completely soaked through your clothes but you could care less and when his lips find yours again you can feel the growl that moves through his throat. It sends you over the edge and you slide your hands down his chest, grasping at the wet material until you can slip your fingers under and feel his skin, keeping him impossibly close.

When you pull back, only to catch your breath, you follow the trail of a drop of rain as it runs down his temple and across his cheek, collecting on his upper lip. You gently suck it off, moaning when his hands grip your ass and he rocks his hips.

His hand smooths along the curve of your spine and his lips fall to your neck with a soft kiss.

He gathers you against him, running his nose along your throat until his warm breath fans your lips and his eyes are focused on yours.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he whispers. “Let me take you home. Let me make you mine.”

@lizette50 @hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller the last of us #pre!outbreak joel miller x reader #no!oubtreak Joel miller x reader #friends to lovers #protective!joel miller

[autisticlancemcclain]

One Saturday morning, as Keith and Lance descend the stairs on their way to the kitchen — as Keith practically carries a still half-asleep Lance, that is — Marcela whips towards them, points a scolding finger in their direction, and says, “I am tired of checking in on you two at night and seeing my son, sprawling over half the bed, while poor Keith clings to the edge. No more.”

Keith’s heart drops to his toes, pounding all the way down. His ears billow out and then fade slowly, like someone turned the volume down. He feels like a beyblade someone just spun and dropped onto the pavement, dizzy and sharp and sparking, trembling to a stop. For several horrifying moments he’s convinced that this may very well be it, and he’s shocked by his own surprise. He’s usually so prepared for the eventual end of someone’s affection, for the patience to run out, for the boot to kick him on the way out the door. It’s startling to realise how far he’s let his defences drop with the Esposita-McClains.

Dangerous.

But then Keith processes the entirety of her sentence, hears past “I’m tired of” and “Keith” in the same sentence. He sees her narrowed eyes and chiding finger and playful exasperation pointed at Lance’s guilty grin, not at Keith, and he realises she is exasperated by the fact that Lance takes up the whole bed every night Keith sleeps over, not that Keith sleeps over at all.

He unclenches his fist from the hem of Lance’s shirt. He’s not sure if Lance does it on purpose, but he leans farther into Keith, and the pressure helps ground him, helps him breathe again.

“I really don’t mind,” Keith mumbles. He keeps his eyes averted, unwilling to meet her knowing ones. “Lance isn’t that bad.”

Marcela snorts, ruffling his hair as she walks by to set the milk on the table. “Please, Keith. He’s a nightmare to sleep with and he knows it. He had to have those little toddler rails on the sides of his bed until he was seven years old because he kept falling off.”

Lance makes a noise of protest at the embarrassing anecdote. Keith smiles, patting his back slightly.

“He does drool.”

“And kick,” says Lance’s older sister Veronica, ducking into the kitchen to grab an apple. Rachel, his other sister, is right behind her, and she pipes up too.

“He also grinds his teeth!”

“And mutters freaky things. He said he was going to curse me once.”

“Oh, yeah, and there was the deal with the sleeping sitting up!”

“And there was —”

“Alright, girls,” Marcela interrupts, leaning over to hold down the hand Lance has clenched around a fork before he has a chance to launch breakfast at his sisters. She looks to have intervened in the nick of time, which makes Keith smile into his cereal. “Let’s not make your brother homicidal.”

Both girls leave the kitchen snickering. Lance’s face promises revenge. For their sake, Keith hopes they find a way to lock their room door, but somehow he doubts it. A part of him is intrigued about whatever scheme Lance will inevitably rope him into.

“I really am fine, though,” Keith repeats once calm has returned to the morning again. “I once had to sleep in a home that usually had more kids than beds, so Lance’s kicking is a significant improvement from a sleeping bag on the kitchen floor.”

He hadn’t meant for his comment to be upsetting. It wasn’t great, sure, but he’d had a roof over his head and food to eat, and he’d only been there for a couple days. The whole situation was funny in hindsight, hilarity inherent in the absurdity of his neon green sleeping bag next to the magnet-covered fridge, and that’s how he’d meant the comment. A joke.

But Marcela looks horrified, and Lance leans over to rest his head on Keith’s shoulder and wrap their hands together, and Keith realises he’s most definitely made a mistake.

“Kidding,” he tries anyway, but the damage is done. The determination in Marcela’s eyes becomes even more apparent, and she nods twice as if reassuring herself. Keith could kick himself.

“Be ready in twenty minutes,” she says resolutely. “We’re going out.”

———

In twenty minutes they’re in the car. Lance almost has his voice back by then, too, which is great, because Keith feels like he’s going to lose his — he’s expecting a fancy air mattress, really. At most he’s expecting to be delegated to his own space in the pull out couch or something. And even that is more than he ever thought he’d get. It’s not that he doesn’t think he deserves it, or anything like that. He knows that some of his living situations have been less than ideal, in the past few years.

But he…he’s not part of this family. He’s not supposed to be, anyway. He’s someone Lance dragged home someday, someone Lance latched onto and then everyone else seemed to follow his example. Keith knows his current foster family gets a cheque for an amount he’s too afraid to find out every month. He knows the state government pays people to home and house and feed him because no one else will. That’s how it’s been since that’s what it had to be.

He cannot understand what logic has inspired Marcela and Lance and all the Esposita-McClains, really, to home and house and feed him. He doesn’t understand.

He’s not expecting a forty minute drive to Ikea. He doesn’t understand why so much is being extended for him. He’s not expecting the determination in Marcela’s face and the way she holds Keith in one hand and Lance in the other, tightly, as if both are her children, until Lance whines and pulls himself free to come hold Keith’s other hand, as if he’s the commodity.

Keith doesn’t understand.

This is not how things are supposed to go.

This is never how things end up going. Not ever in a million years or even less.

“We should get a bunk bed!” Lance says excitedly, pulling Keith out of his thoughts and in a random direction. Marcela squeezes Keith’s hand once and lets go to allow it, stepping to the side to grab on of the boxy blue shopping carts.

Lance brightens even further when she brings over the cart, hopping onto the end of it and gesturing for Keith to do the same. Keith looks at the cart, then at Lance, then at the wheels, then at the total lack of space beside him, and imagines Marcela hitting the tiniest bump as they cram onto the little ledge and then them going flying.

He wisely chooses to walk over and grab the handlebar next to Marcela. She extends her pinky to rest next to Keith, which makes several emotions that he refuses to identify rise up in his throat.

“Let’s maybe consider our other options,” Marcela suggests as she pushes the cart farther. “You remember when we stayed over at your primo’s house when we first moved? You hit the ceiling every single morning because you could never remember that it was there. I don’t think bunk beds are for you, mijo.”

“And the toddler rail thing,” Keith adds. He’d meant it seriously — Lance has genuinely fallen a few times and Keith has had to drag him back up — but Lance huff-laughs in the way that he does when Keith teases him and he’s annoyed that he finds it funny, and Marcela straight up laughs. Keith meets Lance’s eyes and smiles to soften the unintentional dig.

“Fine,” Lance laments, dramatically leaning backwards on the rail. “We’ll just get boring normal beds I guess. Ooooou, we should get some bookshelves! Then Keith has somewhere to put all his nerd things.”

Marcela turns the shopping cart so quickly it screeches and nearly flings Lance right off, speeding towards the shelving area. Keith hurries to keep up.

“Excellent idea, Lancito. Bribing him to stay for longer. You’re so smart.”

Lance preens. Keith looks rapidly between them both, trying to find the joke, but there isn’t one. They, genuinely and truly, want to redesign Lance’s entire room to entice Keith to stay. However much it will cost, and Keith knows it will be a lot, they are doing more than what is reasonable to ensure they (not just Lance! All of them! The household!) can spend more time with Keith.

It’s baffling.

Try as he might, Keith simply cannot find a motive. He watches, gobsmacked, as Lance and Marcela hem and haw their way through the biggest furniture outlet chain in the world, comparing sturdy wooden shelving and colourful bean bag chairs and dorky spaceship themed beds, redesigning a whole room from scratch.

He startles out of his thoughts at Marcela’s beckoning, walking over to the display table she and Lance are illegally sitting at (there is a giant FOR VISUAL DISPLAY ONLY sign on it that they have ignored), half hunched over her cell and a pad of paper. “Keith, rojo, come here. We need you to sketch out the basics of Lance’s room so we know what fits. Marco is measuring the walls and everything right now. Don’t worry about anything that’s already in there, I think we’re taking it all out to paint it anyway. You like blue, right?”

Keith swallows roughly. He does like blue. He’s never painted his own room before.

“Yeah,” he manages, finally squishing down next to Lance on his chair.

Following Marco’s directions, he sketches out the foundations of the bedroom, marking the big window and weirdly narrow door and closet that Lance never uses because he has it piled full of stuff he doesn’t use but can’t bring himself to give away. The sketch is then used as a sort of map as they wander around the outlet, holding it up to various pieces of furniture and assessing how they would fit. It takes Keith some time, but after several hours of Lance’s energy and Marcela’s excitement, Keith starts to get hyped.

“Gasp!“ Lance says out loud, because he is a dork. He reaches a flapping hand over to Keith’s without looking, slapping him on the shoulder several times before finally managing to grip onto his sleeve. “Keith! Keith! Look!”

Keith squints in the direction Lance is emoting at. “A couch,” he says slowly, trying to figure out what warrants the intense excitement.

Honestly, it might be the couch. Lance got super excited about bar stools, earlier, so anything really goes.

“No no, farther!”

Keith squints harder. “The countertops?”

“Farther!”

“The…vases?”

“No! Farther!” Finally Lance gets frustrated enough to step behind Keith, gently pressing his palms to Keith’s cheeks and guiding his head in the right direction. “Now squint really hard and get excited with me.”

Keith tries. He sees grey blobs and says nothing, allowing the silence to speak for him.

“The stuffies, Keith! They’re sharks and hippos! Mama, Keith needs glasses.”

“I know,” she says at the same time that Keith says “No, I don’t.”

They stare at each other for several moments.

“As soon as you’re on the insurance,” she says levelly.

“I will feed them to a creek,” Keith promises.

He has never been this stubborn to Marcela before. He didn’t even mean to. If he had known he was going to say it he would have kept his mouth shut, but the words kind of bubbled out of him. He waits for her eyes to harden, her shoulders to square, for the annoyance to become evident at his insolence.

But she only snorts, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “I got Marco to wear them. I got Lisa to wear them. I got my mule of a husband to wear them. If you need them, you will not out-stubborn me, toro.”

Keith shrugs. If she’s that hellbent on getting to know him, she’ll learn, he supposes.

By the time the time they break their intense eye contact, they realize that Lance has already wandered off towards the stuffed animals, and hasten to follow him (he gets lost easy). Lance is already halfway into this big bucket, digging for something specific.

“This is for you,” he says when he finally unearths himself, handing a hippo to Keith. “Smaller than the others, like you, and the fluff is a little matted but it’s softer than the others. The shark is for me because it was stuck on the hippo like I’m stuck on you.” He playfully checks Keith’s hip, giggling at his own joke, but Keith’s eyes are totally glued onto the wonky little hippo plushie in his hands. He holds it loosely, afraid of crushing it, and stares intensely at the matted fluff on the one side, the tangled mess of the little poof at the tail. He tries three times to swallow and fails each time, lump in his throat taking up too much space.

“We’re too old for stuffies,” he finally manages. He gives himself away by how tightly he holds the soft things in his hands.

Lance snorts. “Yeah, well, you’re a massive dweeb, so I think we’re fine.”

“I think they’ll be wonderful additions to your room,” Marcela says with finality, and that is that.

———

By the time they make it out of the maze that is Ikea, pack up the car, and set out on the ride home, it’s well after eight thirty. And Keith isn’t a baby, and neither is Lance, and they have a later bed time than that, but…

They’ve been walking around all day. There has been a lot of expended energy.

They’re tired.

Keith remembers being finagled into playing double-o seven with Lance in the back seat. He remembers losing. He remembers poking Lance in the cheek as he yawned just to hear him squawk.

He remembers nothing but the feeling of Lance’s warmth pressed against his, after that, and the seatbelt digging into his neck, and the numbness of his legs. Then he remembers nothing until he felt the familiar bump of the Esposita-McClain driveway, until he cracked open his eyes to see that they were home and closed them quickly again, hoping he wouldn’t be made to get up, still mostly asleep.

“Should we bother setting up the new beds?” comes a whispered voice, deeper and male.

“No, no,” comes another, higher and softer. “They can sleep together for tonight. You take Lancito. I’ll take Keith.”

He is awake enough to feel soft fingers brushing through his hair, then jostling, then heavy breathing beside his ear and the swaying of being carried. He falls fully asleep again against Marcela’s shoulder, leaning his weight onto her fully, forgetting to keep awake for the walk to their room. He stirs slightly again as he’s set down onto something soft, as he feels the familiar tug of Lance’s finger’s against the fabric of his shirt, the sound of his slow breathing.

“Goodnight, estrellitos,” comes the same whispered voice from earlier, and it’s the last thing Keith remembers before he slips away into sleep.

———

other parts in this universe: 1 2 3

#took a week but we’re here!! also marcela calling keith rojo is so important to me #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #childhood klance #kid keith #kid lance #baby keith #baby lance #keith angst #modern au #childhood friends to lovers #lance’s mother #keith & lance’s mother #my writing #longpost #wip wednesday #i truly love marcela with my whole heart

[italiansteebie]

whatever you do DONT think about eddie leading steve on bc he thinks he's still a king steve branded fuck head and is waiting for the ball to drop.

don't think about steve letting him host hellfire in his basement and accidentally overhearing all of them talking shit, even eddie, and it coming out that "i only started talking to him because the little sheepies told me who cool he is. do i believe them?" eddie scoffs. "of course not. he's still a douche but hey. if he wants us here then i can kiss and play pretend." and yeah. eddie can be mean. it's a result of bullies and bad fathers, a defense mechanism.

steve tries to not let it show when he continues down the stairs with the tray of cookies in his hands, soft smile on his face, ignoring the less than nice laughing at his expense.

eddie notices the odd look on steve's face, the way his head hangs when he trudges back up the stairs, not sitting on the couch like he usually does. and he feels a pang in his chest. is that guilt? what does he have to be guilty about?

the others are watching him, weary smiles on their faces. "do you think he heard us?" jeff asks tentatively. eddie scoffs once more, "so what if he did? it's what he deserves."

and there's that pang in his chest again.

---

it's halfway through the campaign when eddie calls a break and goes up stairs to get some drinks for everyone.

he's about to walk into the kitchen when he hears a voice, and quiet sniffles.

"i thought i changed, robs. i- i try so hard, and it just. im not my dad, i never want to be him. why can't i-" eddie listens as steve cries, hearing... robin buckley of all people float from the receiver. "steve, if he can't appreciate you, fuck him. you've tried to apologize and make it up, if he can't see that then he's just an asshole."

"no. he's right. i deserve it. god, im so stupid! i can't believe i thought he actually liked me. fuck! who would?" he hears a heavy sigh.

"good night rob. sorry for that. thanks- uh. thanks for talking." and the phone is hung up.

eddie rounds the corner finally to see steve furiously wiping away the tears that continue to roll down his face. steve's head whips up at the sound of eddie's feet, he sniffles hard, forcing a smile on his face. "h-hey eddie! uh, sorry. allergies... yknow." he clumsily points to his face. he shrugs, "uh. did you- did you need anything? or. oh! uh. i ordered pizza. it should um, be here soon... i just got cheese..."

eddie stares. "uh. yeah. that's fine. i was just getting some drinks." he said, awkward and stuttering.

"oh! i bought you guys some coke, i put 'em in the fridge so they'd be cold." eddie's still staring as steve walks to the refrigerator and pulls out coke, sprite, and even sunkist. he'd only mentioned that it was his favorite once, but steve. steve had remembered, and there is was.

"thanks." eddie said, taking the cases down stairs, reeling over the interaction that had accidentally knocked an epiphany into his head.

he set the soda on the table grabbing the attention of the club members. "i think i fucked up. i think steve... is a nice guy...?" it's silent for a moment.

"he is pretty cool. i mean. not even your mom would let us play in her basement, gare." it's jeff who speaks up, and this makes eddie's head drop, and hang low.

"we fucked up."

--

now with a part 2

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #best friend robin #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #pre steddie #enimes to lovers #steddie angst #steve harrington angst #steve is trying to be a better person #steddie ficlet #hellfire club #stranger things hellfire club #stranger things ficlet #best friend robin buckley

[autumnillustration]

Laenys + Aemond with a modern twist

#had some time to draw and this is what my brain demands to see #house of the dragon #the drowned dragon #laenys velaryon (oc) #aemond targaryen #vhagar too (if you squint) #illustration #art #fanart #asoiaf #artists on tumblr #always a sucker for 'friends to lovers' #*me happily ignoring pre-established family dynamics so these two are not related here*

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 60/100

Paper Tree by Ellessey

[Pre-War + Christmas fic, 21 391 words, Explicit]

Summary:

Bucky just laughs and shoves another bite of egg in his mouth, giving Steve a shrug and a full-cheeked smile. He's so damn cute Steve wants to shout at him, but he can't seem to say any of the right things. "Shoulda got you a comb for Christmas," is what he comes up with instead.

"What did you get me?"

It's Steve's turn to shrug now, and if he looks more terrified than cheeky as he does so, he can only hope Bucky doesn't catch it before Steve hurries out the door.

--

On December first, Steve wraps up a letter for Bucky and sets it under their Christmas tree. Now he has twenty-four days left to figure out how to tell Bucky what he wrote, face to face.

more fics

#100stucky #stucky #stevebucky #fic rec #my recs #christmas #pre war #christmas time #christmas fluff #christmas fic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes #stucky fic #marvel #stucky fic rec #sharing a bed #steve and bucky #friends to lovers #mutual pining #steve/bucky #steve x bucky #stucky fanfic #fluff #winter #slow burn #marvel fanfic #mcu #moodboard

[profoundbondfanfic]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you)

heard from your mother (she don’t recognize you) by rupertgayes (@rupertgayes) Rating: Mature Word Count: 538k

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things: Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; he has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; he keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who must be as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is. For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

Are you in the mood to experience the whole story developing a bit differently right from the start?

Then here you go!

On one hand there is Dean, still having a hard time handling his brother leaving for college years ago and trying to somehow manage by doing his due diligence as a hunter and following his father’s demands to the letter. Somewhere along the way, however, he starts to constantly cross paths with a man who remembers nothing from his life apart from his name and a strong urge to hunt monsters. At first Dean has no idea what to make of this guy who calls himself Cas, but over time their connection and relationship grows into something very personal as everything around them unravels.

If you ever wanted to know what would happen if you were to throw Cas into pre canon and early season SPN, this series certainly doesn’t hesitate to show you just that! Cas has no clue where he is coming from, who he even is deep down, and yet he gives it his everything to use his abilities to save as many people as possible. 

And Dean, bless him, simply can’t help but be drawn to all of that (because how could he not?), no matter how hard he fights it. Since at the end of the day he is still Dean Winchester who’s simply unable to resist a blue-eyed weirdo of a guy who could very well be an actual honest-to-God angel or whatever (not that something like that exists, right?? RIGHT????) by the way he is acting and showing off his strange powers and all that. Poor Dean is just helpless and it’s the greatest fun to see him sinking deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole!

But it’s also intriguing to watch everything unfold in a slightly different manner, with some crucial details changed, and the mystery of Cas’ past, of his true being, is wonderfully depicted as they gather more and more breadcrumbs over time. I mean, technically we all know the answer to the puzzle that is Cas, contrary to the characters, and yet (or maybe especially because of it) you find yourself ridiculously invested.

And yes, this series is a big boy, I’ll give it that, but I promise you it’s worth it and you will barely feel time flying by as you dive into this alternate and yet so very familiar version of events which are going to leave you on the edge of your seat!

So please, have fun 😁

#destiel #fic rec #4x01 celebration #mature #>100k #canon verse #canon divergence #time travel #pre canon #early seasons #post canon #amnesia #slow burn #bottom!dean #canon first meeting #angst with a happy ending #hurt and comfort #strangers to lovers #established relationship #friends to lovers #hunter!castiel #angel!castiel #blindsided!sam #humor #bad parent john winchester #temporary character death #case fic #canon typical violence #author: rupertgayes #heard from your mother (she don’t recognize you)

[knifedancer]

The Kissing Booth

Marinette's class opts to run a kissing booth for their school fair fundraiser. Unfortunately Chloe drops out at the last minute and Marinette is selected to replace her. She's really uncomfortable with being a 'kisser' at the booth but then something unexpected happens...

Also posted on AO3.

“I don’t know about this, Alya!” Marinette anxiously tugged on the fabric that would be her blindfold for the next hour. It was canary yellow with little bees and flowers embroidered on it. She had handmade one for each participant.

“Come on, girl! You agreed to the kissing booth idea when we were planning what our school fair project would be,” Alya replied.

“But I didn’t plan to participate! This is so humiliating,” the bluenette bit her lip as she mentally panicked. “Why did Chloe have to back out at the last possible minute?”

The other girl shook her head, “Doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? This is your chance! You’ve been in love with Adrien since collège and we’re in lycée now. You’re no longer that short, awkward classmate that tripped over herself in Sunshine’s presence. He’ll kiss you and it’ll be magical. You’ll get married and have three kids and a hamster named—”

“Marinette, it’s your turn at the booth!” Rose’s excited voice called out from the other side of the curtain. The girl in question felt the pit of her stomach drop at the pronouncement, being overtaken by nerves.

“Look, I pulled some strings so you won’t be scheduled for the same hour as Adrien. That way he can come and support you instead of being tied up at the other side of the booth from you. Now get out there!” Alya shoved her from the small prep area they had curtained off and towards the back entry.

Marinette knew the booth set up by heart as she had helped design and build it. It was a long chute with two aisles that led to a set of booths where a male and female student would stand. Both booths were separated by a barrier and an exit curtain would lead the attendees away. Six students in total had signed up to be participants, equally split between sexes, and all had to be eighteen to avoid extra approval paperwork with the school. A few student staff members would stand at the entryway, before the two aisles diverged, to collect the required entry fee. Next to the entry was a bulletin board where the current participants’ photos would be posted. Participants would sit or stand at the booth while blindfolded, kissing whoever approached. They had set the whole thing up to keep things as anonymous as possible so that other students wouldn’t feel pressured to go one way or another, avoiding embarrassment, and keep from any awkwardness happening after in school.

It had been a good plan but Chloe, who had initially volunteered, had decided to flake out at the last possible moment. It left them in a lurch as they needed another female student to take her place and there were very few girls in the class that were eighteen that were willing to fill in: Juleka and Marinette. The Adrienette club, consisting of their various friends from Bustier’s old class, had tapped the designer to do it. She was very uncomfortable with the idea and expressed her desire not to participate – she hadn’t even had her first real kiss yet! No, she didn’t count the ones as Ladybug! – but they were adamant. They had brushed off her concerns without a second thought. It didn’t help when they heaped on the guilt about not being able to reach their fundraising goal for their class trip without their sixth person. Railroaded into accepting, the bluenette had been barely holding back a panic attack ever since.

The Ladyblogger gestured for her to take a seat on the stool and helped her put on the blindfold. “Alright, there you are! Now…I know you’re nervous but don’t worry about it! You’re going to be fine! But, if it helps, I’m your first customer,” with that, Alya gave her a friendly peck on the cheek that caused them both to laugh. “Don’t worry, you got this.” With that, she turned Marinette towards the front of the booth and exited the area, leaving the girl alone.

The young designer sat and wondered who might come to her side of the booth. With her luck, Adrien wouldn’t come at all. Not that she was necessarily hoping for that outcome. She had been waiting for three years for him to notice her, three years to figure out a way to tell him how she felt, three years of helping him with dates or gifts for other girls… Was someone worth waiting for that never noticed you or thought of you as anything more than a friend? She wanted to matter to someone! Marinette had resolved herself to let the silly crush go.  She had grown into herself since making that decision, becoming more confident and outgoing, losing her stutter, as well as finally gaining a little height (170cm). She was finally taller than her maman! Plus the physical exertion she experienced as Ladybug left her with athletic, lean muscles stretched over a pear-shaped frame. She wasn’t as curvy as Alya or Mylene, but she was happy with her more feminine curves. Even with all those changes, Adrien had still not noticed her, so she felt more assured than ever that she made the right choice.

An hour of time can pass in a blink of an eye or feel like a lifetime. For Marinette, it was the latter. After a little while, she found herself still sitting alone. She had propped her elbows up onto the small counter of the booth and rested her head on her hand. The walls themselves were not very thick so she knew Kim, who was sharing other side of the booth for the hour, had received several customers. Satisfied ones at that, if the moans and giggling were any indication.

‘Jeez, Kim… I’d tell you to get a room but you actually have one already…,’ she thought to herself as she blushed from a particularly raunchy noise. ‘Guess I didn’t have anything to worry about, no one really wants to kiss me.’ Tears pricked at her eyes behind the blindfold at that thought. Not that she wanted to be kissed by any random person, especially for her first kiss, but it still wounded her feelings a little. Almost every girl worries that she could be unattractive, Marinette was no exception.

And so, time passed awkwardly accentuated by muffled noises from next door. When it got closer to the end of the hour, Marinette could hear a commotion towards the entryway but could not make out what was being said. She could vaguely hear Alya questioning someone, but the response was lost on the bluenette. She wished she was up there instead, handling angry customers had become second nature to her from all her years working at her parents’ bakery. Anything was better than just sitting here!

Within a few minutes the commotion outside had stopped and she could hear footsteps approaching. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, your hour has finished. It is time for Miss Kubdel’s shift. I have come to retrieve you,” came the familiar voice of Felix. Adrien’s cousin was still the haughty boy he always had been but had mellowed out enough to participate in class fundraisers. Like Marinette, he had also gone through changes over the last three years. While Adrien had the height and strong shoulders, he had taken more after his mother – a lithe form with lean muscles. It turned out for the best, allowing the model to take on more androgynous looks that appealed to Gabriel’s larger audience. Felix had grown to over 180cm, developed broad shoulders and a bulkier muscular structure, and began styling his hair in a shorter version of the Harvard Cut. He still wore the same formal clothes but now had the stature to match his superior attitude. He certainly cut an intimidating figure.

Marinette untied her blindfold, sliding from the booth to join him by the exit curtain. She rubbed her eyes with a stretch, feeling stiff from sitting for so long. “Thanks, Felix. That was a long hour! How did we do on fundraising so far?”

“It appears we made our goal,” he replied blandly.

“Wow, really? Mon Dieu, I guess Kim was really popular!” Felix seemed to stiffen at her statement but did not say anything. “At least whatever we raise from the third shift can be used in our rainy-day fund.”

Felix, ever the gentleman, lifted the curtain aside for her and she nodded her thanks. They politely parted ways – he back to the front to monitor security and money handling practices; Marinette back towards their classroom to grab her wallet so she could enjoy the rest of the fair. Walking among the booths, she selected a one serving a delicious pasta before moving on to the crafts areas. Everyone was so creative and excited!

Her perusal of some bracelets was cut short when someone tugged hard on her elbow. Catching herself from falling over, she looked over to find a very frustrated red head. “Hey Alya, what’s up?”

“Girl, what is going on between you and Felix? Because he made a huge scene earlier at the booth!”

“What scene? There’s nothing going on between us, you know that…,” came Marinette’s puzzled reply.

Alya led her away from the busy booth areas and towards a quieter corner, pulling out her phone and presenting it to her friend. “Here. Watch the video I took during your shift.”

~~~ The Video ~~~

The camera shook as it came into focus on the entryway to the kissing booth. A small crowd of students had gathered near the bulletin to see who was participating and the schedule of kissers for the day. Ivan and Juleka were standing next to the collection box that they would add to as students approached. Suddenly a male student walked back through the entry and angrily huffed as he left, followed by another and another. Some asked for their money back but were otherwise either disappointed or angry looking as they left.

“What the heck is going on…,” came Alya’s disembodied voice as the video began progressing into the entryway. First down Kim’s area, where one could clearly see the jock lip-locked with a guy in a ponytail and red football jersey. Then the camera traveled back up the chute and into the other side.

There, Alya encountered a small crowd of agitated students that were stopped. Pushing through, Felix’s towering form was seen at the front. He had planted himself in the middle of the chute, arms crossed, glaring down anyone that dared to pass him. When one brave boy tried to step around him, Felix appeared to snarl something, too low to be heard by the camera, before the unknown boy paled and backed off. “Any other takers?” Felix asked the crowd calmly, staring them all down. “No? Then please leave.”

“Hey! You can’t stop paying customers… I want a kiss from the hottie in the photo!”

“Yeah, I want a kiss too!”

“I wouldn’t mind more than a kiss, if you know what I mean!”

“Ooooh!”

“Not before I get my turn with her!”

“It’s not like she belongs to you, man!”

Many in the crowd echoed similar sentiments, not noticing the darkening countenance of the tall young man in front of them. Felix uncrossed his arms and advanced, looming over the first student that insinuated getting more than a kiss from Marinette. The crowd’s mutterings had fallen silent, those in the front trembled or shivered from the look on Felix’s face. He seemed to exude a deadly aura, even the light in the room seemed to dim in his proximity.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, you sexist guttersnipe? It appears your parents raised you to think of women as merely playthings to be owned or used,” he slowly looked around, making sure to glare into the eyes of all those present. “You all disgust me. The person down this chute is a respectable, hard-working, intelligent young lady that does not deserve your slimy paws or ghastly thoughts directed toward herself. I will not let you proceed. Regardless of gender, none of you are worthy of her time. Leave immediately or…,” his voice seemed to growl with malice, “I’ll make you leave.”

The crowd dispersed back to the front with nothing more than upset mutterings. The recording drew closer to Felix, who had turned to look with mild interest. “What do you think you are doing? We’re trying to run a kissing booth here!”

“I know, Césaire, and I have a booth to protect,” he replied nonchalantly.

“By what, scaring off all our customers?!” Alya questioned angrily.

“Alya, I’m sure there’s a good reason Felix did that,” came Adrien’s soothing voice. He must have either joined in the investigation or split off from the crowd that had been excused.

“Quite right, cousin. Miss Dupain-Cheng was incredibly uncomfortable about the prospect of performing at the booth as a participant today. No one should be forced to do something that they do not want,” Felix remarked as if schooling a student that had asked a dumb question.

“Excuse you? Marinette didn’t have an issue! She would have told me!” came the blogger’s offended cry.

“Yeah, Felix. Besides, it’s not hurting anyone!” Adrien contributed.

The emerald eyes of the boy in front of them flashed and narrowed on them. “Did you even bother to ask Marinette how she felt? Or, knowing you two, bother to listen?” Felix crossed his arms and stood straight again, taking advantage of the additional 5cm he had over Adrien to now loom over the two friends. “Let me take your silence as a no. You didn’t ask, you didn’t listen. You pressured her until she agreed and then forced her to partake in an activity that she did not want to do in the first place.”

“But she…we didn’t think…,” began the other blond, cowering from his cousin. From his stance one could almost imagine a cat with its tail tucked between its legs while in the presence of a larger predator.

“That’s right, you didn’t think, cousin. You’re both no better than the ignoramuses I have been chasing off. You assigned me security for the day and that’s what I’m doing. Her welfare matters more than your ridiculous kissing booth,” he responded coldly.

“And how are we supposed to make up the money that we just lost to refunds? That had to be at least two dozen you chased off!” Alya questioned, clinging to her anger.

Felix clicked his tongue, looking less deadly than before but no less commanding. “Forty-two in total were sent away. If you’re concerned about the money, then I will pay triple for all the kisses Miss Dupain-Cheng was to give today.”

The camera had picked up Alya and Adrien’s choke at the statement but, before they could reply, Felix pointedly looked at his wristwatch. “Seems the hour is up. I will escort Miss Dupain-Cheng out to make sure she is not bothered by any lingering riffraff. I will join you at the front of the booth to settle the payment after.” With that he turned and walked down the chute towards the booth area.

“What the hell was that abou—,” Alya’s voice was cut off with the end of the recording.

~~~ Back to Present ~~

Marinette stood stunned as her friend took back her phone. She had never seen Felix be so protective before! Especially of her! She pressed a hand to her heart as it raced in her chest, hearing the blood pumping loudly in her ears.

“So? Did he say anything to you?” Alya demanded.

“No…he didn’t say anything about that…,” the girl replied slowly. “All he said was that we reached our goal…”

“Damn right we did, because he paid triple the rate for every person he turned away,” her friend exclaimed. Then her face changed to one of concern, “Was what he said true? Were you not comfortable participating as a kisser?”

Marinette winced and looked down, mumbling, “Yeah… I didn’t want to participate but none of you seemed to listen… I’ve been on the verge of a panic attack since yesterday and it was a relief when no one came to kiss me during my shift.”

Alya threw her arms around her and hugged tight, her tone contrite, “I’m so, so sorry! I should have listened to you. Can you forgive me?”

The designer returned the hug with a small smile, “Done. Just don’t push me into these things again, okay?”

They pulled apart with a giggle of agreement, the bespectacled girl grabbed her shoulders and looked curious. “So…Felix really didn’t say anything to you? Did you tell him how uncomfortable you were?”

“No, nothing…,” Marinette replied confusedly, replaying his words from the video in her mind. Her heart began to race again; she needed to talk to him! She glanced down at her phone to check the time, noting that he should be helping with the tear down right now. “Alya, I gotta go. Call me later, yeah?”

With that, she took off running. She summoned every Ladybug reflex she had and dashed through the throngs of people that still drifted between the food and craft stalls. She finally made it back to the booth location and looked around, not seeing the tall blond anywhere. Marinette approached Ivan, “Have you seen Felix?”

“Uh…yeah, I think he was taking the collection box back to the classroom,” he replied. “Good work today, by the way! I heard you were the big money maker!”

Marinette blushed and took off again, heading towards the main building. She slid to a stop at the classroom door and threw it open with a loud bang. Felix looked up from his task with a glare before realizing it was her. “Would you please close the door? I should have locked it while I was counting but didn’t think anyone else would come in here.”

She gingerly closed and locked the door, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. “Felix… Alya told me what happened at the booth earlier.”

The blond stiffened and sat back in his chair; he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I see. I’m sorry if I overstepped—”

“No, no, you did the right thing! It’s just...,” Marinette pulled at her fingers as sought out what to say. “How did you know I was uncomfortable? I mean…the rest didn’t seem to notice and…”

As she rambled incoherently, Felix had gotten up and approached the table in front of her. He sat on the edge of the desk and sighed, “I notice everything about you, Marinette.”

Marinette met his eyes with a jolt, staring into them as if trying to figure out her lucky charm. “Why?” was all she could manage, her voice taking on a fragile tone.

“In these three or so years that we’ve attended school together, I’ve grown to respect and admire you.” The blond’s voice dropped to a quiet, humble murmur, “Because you matter to me more than you could ever know.”

Not breaking eye contact, she stepped forward into his personal space. She reached out her right hand and hesitated, watching to make sure he was comfortable with it, before settling it on his left pectoral. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers, pounding the same tempo as her own. His eyes were wide with surprise and she could hear his fingers gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that it creaked in protest.

“…Part of the reason I was so uncomfortable today was because I’ve never been kissed before,” she stated hesitantly. She noted the way the muscles in his chest seemed to tense beneath her hand at the confession. “For a long time, I thought it was just because no one was interested in me...” She saw his brow furrow and lips open as if to refute her statement, but Felix stopped when she applied just a little pressure.

“I think I was actually just waiting for the right person,” her hopeful blue eyes met his stare. She was scared of being rejected but, as soon as she saw how he had reacted in the video, she knew she had to take the chance. Because he had somehow wheedled his way into her heart without her noticing. “Felix, I…”

The boy’s hands released the table and one reached up to gently cup her cheek, as if holding a precious jewel. The other came to rest over her hand on his chest. He gazed into her eyes; she watched as something seemed to melt in their depths. Her left hand came up to cover the one on her face, leaning into it with a small smile. Marinette had never felt so safe and treasured. She could feel his heartbeat pick up slightly. Felix looked down at her lips as he leaned in, stopping just as their noses touched. She knew he would not proceed without her consent. They made exhaled a shared shaky breath, as if under great strain, before she closed the distance for him.

His lips were warm and slightly chapped from being in the sun all day, but she had never felt anything so soft before. His lips moved against her own and she eagerly matched his rhythm. The hand on her cheek traveled down to her lower back and pulled her close, her body fitting perfectly between his thighs and against his broad frame. Her hand, now free, moved to the back of his neck and toyed with the soft short hairs there. They kept the kiss languid and gentle, neither wanting to push too far.

When they finally broke away, their faces had matching ruddy complexions. She gently bumped her nose against his, reveling in their new found intimacy. Felix chuckled and wrapped his arms loosely around her, keeping her against his chest but making sure she didn’t feel trapped. Marinette felt some of her old anxieties creeping in. “Was…was that okay?”

“More than okay, my dear. I admit, I am not versed in the art of kissing either. But, if you so desire, I would be willing to practice with you…,” Felix offered slyly, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “Perhaps for the rest of our lives?”

Her breathing hitched at the implications of his words. Marinette imagined what a life shared with him would be like, the joy and warmth, the teasing and banter, protected and treasured… She felt an overwhelming sense of rightness at the prospect. She must have been lost in thought for too long because Felix leaned back with a look of concern.

“Marinette, I didn’t mean to make the assumption—” he was cut off by her finger to his lips. She smiled at his expectant but shocked face.

“Less talking, more practice, hot stuff.” Felix broke into a grin then happily pulled her into another kiss. The second of many in their future.

Afterall, he had paid for them…

~~~Author's Note:

"Best investment I ever made." - Felix, on his wedding day.

#miraculous ladybug #felinette #felix x marinette #marinette dupain cheng #felix fathom #felix graham de vanily #marivanily #fluff #one shot #aged up au #school festival au #pre relationship #kissing booth #protective felix #pov marinette #first kiss #friends to lovers #alya cesaire #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3

[steddieunderdogfics]

For challenge monday, fics with 20 comments: Eternal Rains Will Come by GriefAbyss, it's part of a series on rare-ish kinks, and this one is about dacryphilia!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55112749?view_adult=true

Eternal Rains Will Come by GriefAbyss

@griefabyss69

Rating: Mature

3,127 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Dacryphilia, Cooking, Pre-Relationship, Domestic, Friends to Lovers, Flirting

Summary:

Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing. --- Eddie helps Steve out in the kitchen and Steve's impulse control fails him. --- "Uh-huh," Steve says, flat and dry only to continue the little game they have going on. The one where Steve has to pretend Eddie annoys the shit out of him so he doesn't stick his hands up his shirt. "You're real good at behaving." Eddie's grin is all dimples as he works, efficiently enough that it's satisfying to watch, even if everything's kind of uneven. It's getting turned into sauce anyway, so it doesn't matter. Besides, they only have each other to impress.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was [INSERT CHALLENGE].

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics #challenge monday #rated m #pre-relationship #friends to lovers

[hairmetal666]

It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #sort of #sorry this is so long #it's going to be a series now #i already have parts 2 and 3 planned out #slow burn #sort of enemies to friends to lovers #season 2 au #eddie and steve are friends #note passing #robin buckley and steve harrington are friends pre season 3 #stobin #steddie fic #eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington #dubious understanding of dnd #canon divergent au

[jobean12-blog]

Reunited

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Pre!Outbreak Joel/Friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2,453

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy have been friends since you’re teenagers and you’ve always had a crush on Tommy’s older brother but he never saw you that way but now that’s Tommy’s getting married and Joel’s been back in town you can’t help but feel that familiar rush whenever he’s around and when he asks you to be his date to the wedding how could you say no? 

Author’s Note: After all the Met Gala footage of Pedro and his amazing outfit and just his hotness all around I kept thinking of him being all dressed up for a wedding or something and I was able to use one of the fun prompts from @the-slumberparty ‘s May Challenge- it’s bolded in the fic. Thank you all so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you sweets! 🥰

Warnings: lots of fun and flirting, Joel is a big flirt and always has been but he’s still soft and now he knows what he wants...it’s s-e-x-y and there’s definitely some tension. 

Gif NOT MINE: Credit goes to @a7estrellas thank you so much lovely 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

“I can’t believe you’re getting married this weekend,” you scoff before taking a sip of your drink.

You elbow Tommy playfully and note the way Joel purses his lips to stop his laughter, his eyes trained on you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy drawls. “I can’t either.”

The three of you share a laugh before the server appears and sets down your meals.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Tommy asks Joel through a mouthful.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” Joel says, directing his compliment your way and ignoring Tommy’s comment.

You stare at Joel. “Thanks.”

Joel’s eyes twinkle with your unresponsiveness.

“Aren’t you going to compliment me?” Joel teases.

“Why? Do you have self-esteem issues that need stroking?”

Joel’s eyebrows hit his hairline at the same time Tommy groans.

“Don’t you dare make some dirty comment Joel…I swear to…” Tommy starts to chide but thankfully, the server appears to check in and interrupts the moment.

Joel chuckles but continues holding your gaze, leaning over the table toward you.

“You’ve got a little somethin’,” he starts, reaching his hand up to your face, “just there.”

He gently swipes his thumb at the corner of your mouth before sticking it between his lips and licking it clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m going to punch you in the face if you don’t stop flirting,” Tommy sighs. “Please, for fucks sake, I just want to eat my meal without wantin’ to vomit.”

“My flirting isn’t that bad,” Joel huffs as he settles back in his seat. “Is it darlin’?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s and you blink vapidly. “Oh, was that flirting? I thought you just had a staring problem.”

Tommy snorts and you shoot him a grin.

“I do have a staring problem,” Joel says, “but only around you sweetheart. It’s impossible not to look at you.”

You stare impassively back at Joel before you look past him and out the window.

“Beautiful day. I hope you and Maria get the same tomorrow Tommy.”

“Beautiful indeed,” Joel murmurs, seeming to memorize your face.

Tommy groans again. “Shit. You’re a pain in my ass brother. I need a drink.”

“Wow he laid it on thick,” your friend Jess says, her face scrunched up in thought. “But you’ve always said he was a flirt.”

“When we were teenagers he would flirt with everything and anything,” you snort. “Apparently nothing has changed. I can’t believe I agreed to be his date.”

“Do you think he knows…?” Jess muses, her eyes widening.

“No!” you say quickly. “How could he know I’ve had a crush on him since we were teenagers. He’s been in and out of my life for years and now all of a sudden he moves back and and…”

“Well at least he’s still hot,” Jess finishes, her eyes twinkling.

You roll yours but agree with a muttered, “very.”

“I think I’m just about done,” she says, looking you over.

You turn to the mirror and study your reflection, smoothing your hands over your body and the figure-hugging dress.

“You’re the best,” you say when your eyes find your friends. “Thank you for helping me get ready.”

The large reception hall is adorned with round tables draped with white tablecloths, lantern centerpieces, and twinkling lights galore. The dance floor shines under all the brightness and the air smells of fresh flowers.

“Have I mentioned you look stunnin’ darlin’,” Joel whispers along your ear as he escorts you to your seat.

“Just about a million times,” you say with a giggle. “Ever the charmer.”

“Only for you,” he says while he waits for you to sit.

You give him a look of utter disbelief and he smiles slightly, a sexy, lopsided smirk that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

The volume of the music decreases followed by the tinkle of silverware against glass. Joel stands to engage the guests and his gaze flickers to you before he addresses Tommy and Maria.

His speech draws both laughter and some tears and when he sits, your eyes lock, his expression softer than you have ever seen before.

“How did I do?” he asks quietly as soft music starts to play.

“Perfect,” you tell him honestly. “You nailed it.”

He gives you a genuine smile and reaches for your hand, covering it with his. “Thanks.”

With your free hand you reach for his face, the prickle of his beard scratching your palm as your gazes hold. He shifts in your caress, his lips finding your palm in a sweet kiss.

The moment is broken when the music picks up and Maria comes over to pull you onto the dance floor. You give Joel a wave before disappearing into the crowd of moving bodies.

Just as your feet start to ache from dancing the lights lower and a slow song comes on. You sigh in relief and let go of Maria’s hand, smiling brightly before motioning to your feet and turning to walk back to your seat.

“Going somewhere darlin’?”

“Oof,” you mutter when you run smack into Joel’s chest, your palms falling to his broad shoulders.

He raises a questioning brow.

“I was going to sit. My feet hurt,” you explain.

“Do you think you could suffer through one more dance just for me?” he asks softly.

“I mean,” you sigh dramatically. “I’d be suffering anyway so…”

He throws his head back with a laugh and takes you in his arms, twirling you back out onto the dance floor.

You settle into his embrace and when he pulls you against him your lips part in surprise as your body molds to his.

After some comfortable silence he smiles wickedly. “You don’t seem like you’re suffering.”

“You’re a good dancer,” you admit quietly.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he replies, tugging you ever closer.

“Still not flirting though,” you tease in the hopes of covering up your real reaction.

The music blurs into the background and all you can sense is him, all you can smell is his skin. His dark eyes glint with more than just a hint of desire and you feel a tingle shoot down your spine. The air becomes thick with tension and you find it hard to breathe.

His eyes drop to your lips and his grip tightens. The hand you’re resting on his shoulder moves higher, your fingertips ghosting along his jaw before they slide through the soft hair at the back of his neck. He brings his face closer, his nose grazing the spot just under your ear and you gasp his name.

The song ends and the DJ’s voice booms over the speakers, announcing the start of some much more upbeat music. It effectively pulls you from your haze and he releases you only enough to usher you off the dance floor.

He tucks you into his side and keeps his hand securely on your hip and you place your hand on his stomach, cuddling into him.

You give him a soft smile as he pulls out your chair before asking if you want a drink.

You watch him saunter up to the bar and try to ignore the butterflies that flutter wildly in your stomach.

“He’s just a flirt,” you remind yourself.

As if on cue a woman you don’t recognize plasters herself to his side at the bar, pushing into his personal space. Joel gives her a look of acknowledgement before hailing the bartender. You can’t pull your eyes away and when her hand lands on his forearm and she bats her lashes you clench your fist under the table.

She’s clearly coming on to him and although he isn’t giving her much attention it still makes you feel that unwelcome twinge in your gut, one you felt many times before when you were younger and had a silly crush.

But you’re an adult now. And he’s single. You have no right to be jealous.

But when he smiles and laughs at something she says you feel your skin heat and without a second thought you abruptly stand from the table in search of some space.

You’re just closing the door to one of the bridal rooms when you hear it push open and swivel toward the sound.

You take a step backward as Joel slips inside and closes it behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his expression filled with concern. “Are you ok?”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him. His tuxedo jacket fits like a second skin, his broad shoulders and chest filling out the material so it strains every time he moves. His dark hair is styled in a messy but oh so sexy way that makes your hands itch to feel it between your fingers and the hair that lines his cheeks is dusted with gray that only makes him more appealing.

“Now who’s the one that’s starin’ darlin’?”

His cheeky grin falls when your brow furrows and your eyes drop.

He steps closer and holds out his hands.

“Who was that woman at the bar?” you ask, still keeping your eyes downcast.

“What woma….?” He stops before finishing the question and closes the distance between you,

“I don’t even know her name,” he whispers as he tucks his fingers under your chin. “And I left her standing there as soon as I saw you run off.”

You meet his gaze and the cocky playfulness that usually fills his eyes is gone, replaced by something softer but still simmering with unbridled heat.

“Oh,” you say, swallowing audibly.

“Jealous sweetheart?” he asks, the smug look returning but only in jest.

If there was enough space between your bodies you would cross your arms over your chest but since you can’t you lift your chin defiantly instead and mutter, “you wish Joel.”

“Actually,” he says, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping so you can feel his breath tickle your skin. “I do.”

“But you never showed interest when we were kids,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady under his ministrations. “Why now?”

“You were always off limits,” he says. “Tommy’s best friend and I was never good enough.”

“That’s not true,” you say with as much power as you can muster. “I’ve always wanted you but you were always too busy with…”

“Don’t,” he says, stilling his movements. “I was young. Stupid…but now I know exactly what I want.”  

His whispered words caress the shell of your ear and you press yourself harder against him, turning your head so your lips brush.

Your eyelashes are just fluttering against your cheeks and his hands tighten around your waist when you hear your name called loudly from outside.

“Shit,” you hiss, pulling away to look at him.

You hear your name again.

“I need to go.”

You rush out of his arms and out the door, seeing one of the bridesmaids motioning for you to follow her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur of dancing and drinks, your body always hyperaware of Joel’s lingering touches. He’s never far from your side and although his flirting is more subtle and less supercilious, he doesn’t let up.

Joel offers to drive you home at the end of the night, arguing that there’s no reason you should be taking a car this late. You give in under his pestering and take his outstretched hand as he leads you to his pickup.

“I really could have taken a car,” you mutter. “You must be tired and now you’ll have to drive all the way back to your place from mine.”

Joel stops walking just as you’re inches from his truck and he spins you around, hauling you into his body and backing you up until you’re pressed against the door.

You gasp in shock but the sound is cut off by his mouth on yours and when his hand slides down your curves and he tucks it just under your ass to pull you deeper into him, you let out a moan, his own sound of need rumbling down this throat.

His hand comes around your front and he feels for the open slit of your dress, his fingers fumbling with the silky material until he feels your warm skin beneath his.

“All night,” he murmurs. “All fuckin’ night I’ve had to think about what’s underneath this dress and every time I got a glimpse of this gorgeous skin…”

He pulls away to breathe, his chest brushing yours with his pants. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Joel,” you whisper and his eyes fly to yours.

“Take me home.”

He bites out another string of curses before he kisses you again, only pulling away so he can help you into the truck, his eyes studying your body, lingering on the silk where it clings to your every curve.

The blood rushes through your ears as you step into your house, Joel’s large hand splayed across the door as he holds it open for you.

“I can make some coffee,” you offer as soon as the door shuts behind you.

You kick off your shoes and stroll into the kitchen, keeping your back to Joel as you move about to fill the coffee machine and get mugs.

“How do you take…OH!”

You startle, turning your head to look at him as he cradles your hips and presses you into the counter.

“Oh,” you say again, this time breathless at the feel of him.

One hand slides up your arm, slow and purposeful, until he reaches your neck and his fingers dance along the delicate column then cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you.

“Joel.” You break the kiss for air, trembling when his hand smooths down your stomach.

“You don’t want coffee?”

“No. I just want you darlin’.”

He takes both your hands and places your palms flat on the kitchen counter.

“Stay just like that,” he orders.

You nod, your skin burning with anticipation.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you,” he murmurs as he reaches for the bottom of your dress, smoothing it upward until it’s bunched around your waist. He steps back to take in the sight of you before carefully dragging down your panties, stopping at your knees.

Your legs can only part so far with the fabric wrapped around them and it makes you pant with need as he caresses every inch of skin he can, his breathing becoming shallow the more of you he touches.

You whine his name and wiggle your ass against him, loving the growl you feel reverberate in his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tilt your head upward, meeting his burning gaze.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” he says with a wicked grin.

@justkinsey​ @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @sstan-hoe​ @blackwidownat2814 @pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @rvjaa​ @littleseasiren​

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pre!outbreak joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #pre!outbreak joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #friends to lovers #navy and roo's sleepover

[maegalkarven]

Also funny how while Ketheric is my least favorite villain from the Dead Three Chosen, he def is the one I respect the most.

Orin and Gortash are just problem children with behavior issues and delusions of grandeur. Ketheric tho? He just wanted his daughter back.

#bg3 spoilers #ketheric thorm #orin the red #enver gortash #lord gortash #I love both orin and gortash to the death but by the gods they're ridiculous. So hard to take seriously when you know all the details #and durge pre-memory loss was even worse #Who made these losers the leaders? look at them they create horrors and look silly in the process #wdym orin plays with her corpsy-dollies #wdym gortash is such a nerd ketheric sends him some strange stuff his recruits find? #wdym durge speaks LIKE THAT and wrote a whole ass letter to their father bc they got 1(ONE) friend and possibly lover #meanwhile ketheric is the only sane villain #sitting there like in the kindergarden #@bhaal come take your children they're being ridiculous #@bane your chosen is having his unethical experiments on the captives and doesn't clean after. Yes #again. Balthazar complained. #teach him to clean after himself. are you a god of tyranny or what?

[danisbrainrot]

jackieshauna my babies!! i don’t really have a specific plot in mind.. a confession during one of their sleepovers (pre-crash) maybe ? thank u much love <33

jackieshauna

ofc bbg! any chance to write about jackieshauna <333 and there's gonna be no angst because my babies have been through enough.

jackie jumped onto shauna's bed, feeling the springs poking into her as bounced up and down. she sat cross legged, "you have to tell me, you can't just say, 'i think laura lee is dating someone secret,' then refuse to tell me who," she whined, pouting while crossing her arms over her chest.

shauna laughed, shaking her head. "it was nothing, I swear," she assured, sitting next to jackie with her feet dangling off the bed. "just a misunderstanding," jackie groaned, flopping her head in shauna's lap and staring up at her big brown eyes.

"why aren't you telling me?" she asked; shauna's face turned a deep crimson—and not because of the question. she shrugged the blonde off, shaking her head. "shauna, I'm your best friend! you can tell me, I promise," she sits up eagerly, "I'll keep my mouth shut," she runs her thumb and index finger across her lips, before gesturing she was locking a key and throwing it over her shoulder.

shauna smirked, playfully rolling her eyes at jackie's antics. "ok, fine. but you can't tell anyone. she'll kill me," she demanded. jackie nodded her head obediently, "there's this boy at church she has a little crush on," jackie squealed, covering her mouth with her hand in shock.

"laura lee? i thought she was too much of a good girl for boys," the blonde joked, eliciting shauna's enchanting laughter. jackie couldn't help but stare at her best friend in awe, falling deeper and deeper in lo—admiring, totally just admiring, her best friend's beauty. pride swelled in her chest, like it usually did, at making shauna laugh.

the brunette stood up, moving to her closet. "what are you wearing to the party tomorrow?" she asked, pulling out a crimson red dress and holding it up to her body.

"I'm thinking maybe a short green dress and jeff's denim jacket," she replied, her eyes scanning shauna's body. shauna felt her stomach sink at the mention of jackie's boyfriend, but she couldn't quite explain why. it's not like she was in love with him. "I love that dress on you, it suits your body," shauna goes to thank her but is interrupted, "it makes your boobs look great," she winked, causing the brunette to turn around and hide her deepening blush.

shauna hides in her closet, slipping on her dress and waiting to feel the heat drain from her cheeks. when she was finally ready, she stepped out and gave jackie a spin. "I can't believe you like this one on me. . . it doesn't feel like me."

"I like you in whatever you wear," the words spilt from jackie's lips before she realised what she said. shauna smirked, ready to tease her best friend for the slip up, when jackie blurts out, "except that ugly sweater, you should burn it out, that did nothing for you," shauna's taken aback for a moment, shocked at what her best friend's remark.

jackie bites her lip, regretting what she said once she sees shauna's face drop. "fine, I'll throw the fucking sweater out," she snapped, turning around and changing back into the clothes she was in before the dress.

jackie groaned, before getting up, and approaching the closet. "shauna, I didn't mean it like—" she paused at the sight of her shirtless best friend. her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and she found her eyes landing on shauna's boobs. jackie didn't know what she thought she'd see when she opened the closet, but for some reason, it wasn't that.

the two best friends stared at each other in silence for a moment, jackie's eyes flicking up and down between shauna's boobs and lips. the brunette noticed this, and subconsciously began breathing heavier. "jackie, what are you doing?" shauna asked, finally snapping out of her stupor.

jackie didn't respond with words, instead she leaned forward and kissed shauna—taking her best friend by surprise. when she felt stiff lips against her own, jackie pulled back in shock, "shauna I'm sorry, I don't know what—"

shauna stepped forward and crashed her lips against jackie's, devouring her lips as she pressed her bare chest against jackie's clothed one. the kiss was hungry, passionate, desperate—just like their love for one another.

shauna couldn't believe that she was kissing jackie taylor—her best friend—in the closet! however, she wasn't going to complain. not when jackie's soft lips were on her own, and her hands was sneaking their way up her sides. "was this a ploy to touch my boobs?" shauna asked, laughing as she pulled away, feeling her best friend groping at her chest.

jackie shook her head, "no, absolutely not. . . just a benefit," she bit her lip, offering her best friend a cheeky grin. "damn, shipman. i know i said that dress made your boobs look great, but i think they're even better like this," shauna blushed crimson once again, before grabbing the back of jackie's head and claiming her lips once again.

#fanfic #fluff #blurb #wlw #jackieshauna #jackie taylor #shaunajackie #shauna shipman #yellowjackets #precrash #pre wilderness #friends to lovers #sleepoverconfessions #danisasks #dani's fics <3

[comicarc]

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈)

"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 2683

The seats were empty, and the theater dark, yet she couldn’t help but perform for the phantoms that haunted her life. She sat in the middle of the stage, leaning her figure against an unfinished background prop. She harmonized her absentminded humming with the blaring sirens of cop cars outside. With her math textbook in her hand and a pencil twirling between her fingers, all y/n wanted to do was be done with studying. 

Her enthusiasm for learning had long passed since her arrival at Gotham Academy and transformed into an impatient obligation to succeed. Now, the day before her finals, y/n studied as rigorously as she had done a month prior. The method of her pursuit of excellence was pure insanity, even to her, and yet she was willing to sacrifice even more if it meant beating the very boy who had put her in this situation. 

Eventually, relieving her mind from its tension, y/n stood up from her cross-legged position, packed her bulky backpack, and headed down the steps of the stage with caution. Her eyes were too droopy and her body too weak to keep her upright. Today was the one day out of the whole year that she hated being in her dorm, and even the prospect of sleeping there tonight was one she did not look forward to. In the dark theater, opposite the residential area of the campus, y/n found solace in the isolation it provided. 

As she approached the dorms, y/n could hear the clamor of roars and shouts that emanated from the area. Closing in on the rowdy scene, she saw the starting line of the annual Memorial Day race outstretched right in front of a residential building. The track widened between the structures and out onto the street, eventually looping back to the start, leaving y/n with no way home.

She couldn’t cross the tarmac for the race had already started and an army of bodyguards surrounded the border. She could always try her hand at pushing through them, but seeing how she was drastically outnumbered, the girl opted to make camp at one of the bleachers at the back of the stands. Fighting her way to a spot in a corner, y/n set down her bag, securing it between her legs, and leaned her head against the metal fence beside the bleacher, hoping that she would be able to sleep through the cacophony of sounds that surrounded her. 

Lost in the blackness of her sight, y/n was in reverie as she worried about her forthcoming future. Gotham Academy was a school for the one percenters of the city, the children of politicians and billionaires. It had been a feat in it of itself to be able to attend such a prestigious school, but the baggage that it came with was another challenge. Upon stepping through the entrance doors, y/n had never been able to make a choice, for it was either endurance or death. She had to be the best to stay with the best, and Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy, seemed to make it his life’s mission to ensure she never remained.

His hatred toward her was something that, in their four years of acquaintance, y/n had never understood. Of course, she like many other, if not all, girls at the Academy was smitten with his handsomeness and abundance of wealth. Though she never obsessed over him, y/n couldn’t deny her attraction. That was until the very first exam took place. 

y/n, needed to maintain her scores to remain at the school, and thus it seemed almost unthinkable for her to be anything but in the first place. Yet, upon seeing his demotion displayed on the billboard in front of the class, Bruce’s entire attitude toward her shifted from indifference to hostility. It seemed he had set out to ruin her since that day.

The current situation was a product of their developed feud, for Bruce, with all his privilege and power, convinced the school board in their freshman year, to host an annual race that would help boost funds. And wouldn’t you know it, he chose the starting point to be right in front of y/n’s dorm. 

y/n was angry, rightfully so, yet she held no influence here, forcing her to adapt to her unideal circumstances. As was the story of her life, an endless amalgamation of suffering amassing into a perseverance to be reckoned with. Instead, she did all she could do against him. The prime domain of her victory was, of course, on exams as she always was at the top of her class. 

Left with the thought of another inevitable victory on her finals tomorrow, y/n’s mind slipped into a deep slumber for hours. She awoke to the sight of the morning sun burning against the tender, cold skin of her wrist. The rest of her body was warm under the cover of a large coat. Groggily blinking her eyes until they remained open, y/n tilted her head in the other direction, knowing that her best friend’s shoulder would be waiting for her head to land on it. 

“Thanks for the coat, Harvey.” She smiled softly. His presence was comforting enough, even in such uncomfortable circumstances. He had a way of washing away all her woes with his company. 

“How do you never sleep in? Even without an alarm.” He questioned, clearly confused. The girl was an apparent mystery to him, but also a welcome change, for in a society surrounded by people with their heads in the clouds, it was nice to meet someone grounded. He knew the circumstances that led to being as such were not something to envy, and yet he very openly spoke to her of his desire to have similar persistence and perseverance. 

Chuckling, y/n replied, “I guess my body’s internal clock is a bit skewed y’know. Like an animal instinct, if I sleep too long, I’m scared something might happen to me.”

Harvey was unsure of how to respond, so instead, he remained silent and held her against him with one of his arms wrapped around her body. He had found comfort in her, just as she did in him, though he was not one to admit it, unlike her. They stayed pressed to each other for a few more minutes until Harvey saw people leaving their dorm rooms. 

“You should probably clean up before the tests start.” He suggested, still unwilling to let go of y/n.

“Oh really?” y/n sarcastically quipped, eventually wriggling herself from his hold, handing him his jacket back, and heading to her dorm with a wave. Harvey saw her off with a wave of his own, staying at the stands for a little while longer as he basked under the warmth of the sun’s rays. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Finals were over, y/n got her results back and she was number one yet again. With tremendous glee and delight, she skipped down the hall towards the library where she was to meet with Harvey. Just as she was about to enter through the grandiose wooden double doors of the room, she was stopped by the dean, Philip Wilcox.

The stout, bald man waddled his way towards y/n, exhausted from trying to grab her attention from down the hall. He was always hostile to her, even more so than Bruce, yet they never interacted enough for his behavior to feel too off-putting. 

The few times that he had called for her, he would make a request she could never refuse. The man was as corrupt as every politician and police officer in the city, having been a part of many people’s payroll. The only way he could keep his position was if he pleased those who had put him there. Thus, he employed vulnerable students like y/n to do his dirty work.

Usually, he called her to his office to pick up some cash he was offered by one of the elite families of Gotham to ensure that their child passed through the school. Essentially, they were bribes that he was too lazy to acquire himself. y/n’s scholarship was at stake if she ever refused his whims, and running errands such as these weren’t as bad as the other crimes in Gotham, thus she endured it.  

Today though, his expression, his agitated body language, and his huffing breath left y/n anxious about the task she would be assigned. He had never been this distressed before, or at least, displayed his fears on his face.

In a hushed tone, as he neared the girl, Wilcox began his berating, “Why did you ignore me, you insolent child? I know you heard me screaming from the other end of the hall.” y/n did not in fact hear him, but there was no use bantering with him over something so miniscule. 

He continued, having finally recovered from his panting, “Never mind that. I have a very important job for you. It’s different from what you usually do.”

“How so?” y/n’s concern heightened, for change such as this never meant anything good.

“I need you to go to Sionis Steel Mill, get a package from there, and drop it off in Crime Alley.”

“What’s different about that?”

“There’s a few instructions you have to follow before you get the package…” He thought for a moment before smirking and continuing, “Kind of like a game. You like games don’t you?”

y/n remained quiet for it was clearly a rhetorical question. She watched as he looked at her with anticipation as if he believed she had the capability of refusing him. Fortunately for him, y/n gave him a curt nod before making her way around him to the library doors. Before she could walk through, he recounted, “Oh, you’ve got no time to spare. I need you doing this now.”

She couldn’t catch a break, could she? y/n turned away from the door upon hearing his subtle command and texted Harvey that they’d need to reschedule. Her only motivation for continuing to endure this torturous lifestyle was her imminent graduation in just a few weeks. If she could survive that long, then she’d finally be able to escape this godforsaken place. 

After a short bus ride across town, y/n was exactly where she needed to be yet the package was nowhere to be found. She didn’t want to venture inside the steel mill, especially during dusk as the light slowly faded and left her blind to the dangers that lurked in every corner. 

In the past year, there have been many deaths here due to faulty equipment, gang rivalries, or simple scuffles. At any moment a piece of machinery could fall onto y/n and crush her to her death, even the entrance sign that stood tall in front of the mill creaked in the light breeze. With the arrival of summer, nights in Gotham had hovered at a lukewarm temperature, enough so that one could stroll around at night without a jacket. But now, knowing she’d have to enter it to finish the job, a shiver ran down y/n’s spine and her exposed arm became prickled with goosebumps. 

She moved through the place with heightened caution, making certain that she remained in large open areas with no metal overhanging or machinery nearby to kill her. The sun set quicker than she had expected, leaving her stuck in pitch darkness in the middle of the mill. Every scrape, grind, and tick she heard made her jump with fear. 

Her heart beat vigorously against her chest as sweat began to drip down the side of her face. It was a sort of crippling anxiety that y/n had never felt before, for she had never been so close to death. Sure, the streets of Gotham were no better with robbers and gang members roaming through, but at least there were normal people nearby. If she yelled for help, she was assured by the fact that someone would have heard her, even if they didn’t think to help. But here, isolated from the city and left at the mercy of thugs who had stayed behind to commit heinous crimes, terrified her. 

y/n had roamed around what she would swear to be the entirety of the mill, only to turn up empty-handed. The gaping hole located at the ingress of one of the factories proved otherwise. With nothing but her phone, y/n shined her electronic flashlight down the abyss. y/n peered down to observe no end to the darkness. 

Surely Wilcox didn’t expect her to go down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, did he? y/n tried to reason the situation, finding it preposterous to expect her to sacrifice her safety for paper. But she also knew she wouldn’t have a life to go back to if she returned empty-handed. In a spontaneous moment of action, y/n lowered herself into the hole, shutting off her mind to focus on lowering herself down the pit. She knew if she had thought any longer, then she’d be too scared to follow through with her task, but in that moment, losing her place at the Academy felt like dying. And she refused to die. Thus, to Wonderland she went. 

She felt lucky that her descent down the rabbit hole was relatively easy. On one side of the hole hung a metal ladder, flimsy, but stable enough to hold her weight. Cautiously, y/n made her way to the end of the ladder where she was met with wet soil underneath her sneakers. The squelch that the contact between her feet and the ground made, caused her to cringe. Her sneakers were sure to be ruined, and the longer she stayed put, the more soaked they would be with the strange liquid. Digging through her jacket pocket, y/n found her phone again and fumbled to turn on the flashlight. Finally, the light shone and illuminated the area revealing a path that resembled a mining tunnel. 

“What are you doing here.” The sudden voice from behind y/n made her jump. Catching her foot on a rock by accident, she tripped and fell backward into strong arms. Her phone had fallen from her hand, landing on the floor as it illuminated the stranger’s features just enough for her to identify him.

“Bruce Wayne?” y/n was dumbfounded upon seeing the familiar face, for a rich kid standing in what was clearly a sewer-like tunnel seemed ludicrous. What was even stranger was the fact that the area was too secluded to just stumble upon, he must have come here for a reason.

“I asked a question.” His tone was stern, as if y/n intruded on him. Face stoich as ever, he bore his eyes into hers attempting to elicit a response from her.

“I’m not answering until you tell me why you’re here?” y/n knew how dirty the rich could get for she had been entangled in many extensive corruption schemes through the dean. It was no surprise to her that Bruce Wayne would turn out to be a shady character, so following her gut instinct, she chose to keep him in the dark.

He took a moment to analyze her face, as if he could look straight through her with his glare. His eyes were sharp, somewhat droopy, but attentive nonetheless. The rich blue ocean of hue shone in the dim light, so peculiar that the more y/n stared into them, the more lost she got. She remained in his arms, gripping them as if they were her only tether to safety.

That was until, he dropped her and moved along the path, using the dropped phone as his light source. Dazed on the muddy ground, y/n was shocked by the abrupt action. Upon realizing that he had left her stranded, she scrambled to her feet and ran after the fading light hoping to gain some answers.

#bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #harvey dent #harvey dent x reader #bruce wayne #angst #dc comics #pre batman #high school #gotham academy #comics #enemies to friends to lovers #academic rivals #dcu #batman x reader

[fromxxthexxashes]

while a summer wind blew through the trees (43454 words) by june_nights Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), minor Eddie Diaz/Shannon Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Minor Evan "Buck" Buckley/Abby Clark - Relationship Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley, Sophia Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Adriana Diaz, Shannon Diaz, Ramon Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Helena Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Isabel Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bobby Nash, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Howie "Chimney" Han, Buck Voice: The Universe!!, Josephina "Pepa" Diaz Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, First Meetings, Internalized Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, First Dates, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Pining, All Roads Lead to Canon, the Buddie Speedrun (TM) Edition, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Breaking Up & Making Up, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

El Paso, June 2010

Looking at Evan is hard sometimes, the same way looking into the sun without blinking is hard, but looking away is even harder because Evan has a smile that lights up a room and when he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners. Eddie has wanted him since the moment they met, and while that was easy to ignore - this is harder. This, that's Evan's humor and the way he cares too much about the people around him and not nearly enough about himself. It's the way he'll memorize random fun facts he's never going to need but still doesn't know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars, and it's his complete disregard for personal space, highlighted every time his shoulder bumps Eddie's when they're walking next to each other.

 Or:

Eddie and Shannon get married young. What if they broke up instead? Buck leaves home at 20. His adventures take him all the way to Peru and back. What if they took him to El Paso?

Notes: This has such beautiful build and delicious, gorgeous angst and some absolutely lovely and cute moments. I love a good summer fling romance. This one is done particularly well. If you like the angst of the divorce era (and the eventual makeup) in canon you’ll really like this one.

#buddie #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 #911 fic rec #eddie diaz #evan buckley #pre-canon #alternate universe - pre-canon #first meeting #internalized homophobia #unrequited love #not actually unrequited love #friends to lover #first time #first dates #idiots in love #falling in love #pining #breaking up and making up #found family #angst with a happy ending #teen and up audiences #43k

[knifedancer]

Falling in Autumn

The miraculous causes side effects. Marinette picks up the hibernation instincts of a bug: seasonal exhaustion, seeking warm and dark spots to burrow into… I think you know where this is going.

Hibernation trope, Felinette style. Gratuitous Fluff.

Originally posted on AO3.

Silly Thoughts

~~~~~~~

It was a rare frigid autumn where even the daylight hours felt cold regardless of the amount of sun peeking through the clouds. It was so chilly that Paris had already gotten an unseasonable snowfall that week! Not enough for snowball fights, but just enough to leave everything sporting a thin layer of white. Parisians were already bundling up in coats, scarves, and mittens to stay warm. One resident took this bundling to the extreme…

Marinette had known the miraculous, when worn for long periods of time, would rub off certain intrinsic effects on their holders. Tikki had first told her about it when Chat Noir started being able to purr and seek out pets on her balcony during his night-time visits to the bakery. The Ladybug kwami told her that the effects varied from holder to holder but one thing was always common among those that wielded bug-themed miraculous: winter dormancy.

At first the idea of going into a hibernation-like state seemed silly to the teenage bug-heroine. Then the first fall since attaining the magical earrings drew nigh. Marinette noticed that no amount of sleep seemed to leave her feeling rested, she was more affected by the cold, and she tended to try burrowing into dark but warm places unconsciously. Her superhero outfit changed to be slightly thicker and lined with a mysterious, unknown furry material to trap in body heat. Marinette likened it to fleece or velour, it acted like super strong thermals under her suit. Even then, Ladybug would find herself occasionally curling up against Chat’s side during particularly chilly night patrols out of desperation.

Fortunately for the Parisian heroes, it seemed Hawkmoth was also impacted by the insect miraculous effects. The period from Fall to Spring had proven to be a much quieter time for akumas. Tikki had explained that not only would the butterfly holder be impacted, but his living butterfly counterparts as well. The fluttering wings of a magic-powered butterfly were no more impervious to cold and turbulent weather than your common garden variety. If Hawkmoth was attempting to send out an akuma, they could be blown entirely off course by strong storm winds or slow to a mere crawl when the temperature dropped too low. This was a boon for the heroes and all of Paris. It meant an attack happened less frequently but the akumas were usually stronger than the rest of the year. The two heroes joked that it was probably because old Hawky was frustrated with the miraculous effects!

During the school days, Marinette would double or even triple up warm layers. There was even a box of handmade scarves and mittens packed away solely for this purpose. Then she would sleepily cuddle up next to Alya and partake of her warmth on their shared classroom bench. The two friends were always affectionate with each other, so it didn’t seem too odd to the casual observer. Doctors had excused the syndrome as some sort of odd thyroid or seasonal narcolepsy condition. However all tests came back normal and it did not appear to be harming her overall health nor development. Ultimately, she was advised to take extra vitamins and the Dupain-Chengs were to keep an eye on her condition in case things worsened.

Unfortunately, this year, Marinette had been moved to the back of the classroom and the friendship with Alya strained to the very limit due to Lila’s interference. There would be no friendly cuddles or shared warmth this year. The sleepy girl had made do so far by adding a ludicrous fourth layer – a second non-bulky removable jacket liner – and using disposable heating packs to keep her core temperature up. It had worked well since the end of September but, now that it was mid-November, it was getting harder to stay warm and awake in class. Even Tikki, who snoozed more like a real ladybug rather than the omnipotent personification of creation that she was, shivered in Marinette’s interior breast pocket.

‘If only Alya was still my seat mate, then I wouldn’t have to worry!’ Marinette thought sadly. She looked at her current seat mate from the corner of her eye and sighed. ‘He’d probably push me to the floor.’

Along with the seat reassignment, another drastic change had entered her school life in the form of Adrien’s cousin: Felix Graham de Vanily. The same uptight, monochrome fashioned, and grouchy boy that tried to kiss Ladybug and caused three akumas was now in her class. Marinette was suspicious of him at first, afraid he was working for Hawkmoth or looking to cause trouble. In a way, Felix was. He had joined back in August and immediately took the open seat next to her with that mocking smile of his. Within the first day, he had pushed her buttons until she snapped. Marinette won the battle that day but Felix left with a smile that seemed entirely too pleased. He had tried to needle her every day after that and, while she did not lose her temper as explosively as she had then, they wound up trading quips almost daily. Their constant bickering had eventually formed into an odd companionship and understanding. Not quite friends, not really enemies.

Unfortunately for Marinette, her stock of hand warmers had finally run out and they were on backorder. She had tried her mother’s favorite reusable heating pad but it cooled too quickly and the lavender scent enticed her to doze. As the day went on, the pigtailed girl noticeably drooped in her seat as she slowly succumbed to her hibernation instincts.

~~~

It was a typical Tuesday for Felix. He arrived at school early, spent an agreeable amount of time reading his newest novel, and avoided the idiots in class. All but one anyway, although she hardly counted. After their first argument and the subsequent trouncing he received, he had come to realize there was more to Dupain-Cheng than met the eye. He had tried to provoke her again but was pleasantly surprised that she was stronger than he expected and possessed a lightning quick wit. Felix came to the decision that she was an adequate enough individual to associate with while he was stuck in this hovel. He had learned she did not like liars; in turn she respected his personal aversion to being touched. Their developing camaraderie was cordial. They had paired up for almost every project and, although she was often tardy, the dark-haired girl had always completed her work in a timely manner.

He chanced a glance at his seat mate and noticed she seemed to be doing her best impression of a melting snowman in summer. Felix clicked his tongue softly as he returned his attention to the board, ‘Dupain-Cheng has been more lethargic these last few weeks. She’s hardly cognizant of any of our classes, yet somehow still manages to receive satisfactory scores. She must be the embodiment of luck itself to pull that off!’

He picked at a piece of lint off his black cashmere peacoat and straightened the lapel. It was warm but did not do enough to stop the icy gusts from traveling down his neck. Sadly, most of his winter wear was still stuck in London as this change in the weather was unanticipated and his mother was still shopping for an acceptable abode for them to live in. Felix spared his table mate another quick glance – today she was wearing a bright red coat and a knitted scarf the color of his favorite caramel hard candies. She always seemed to have a different colored set of scarves and mittens that complemented her outfit. They did not look to be from any fashion brand he had heard of and he knew she fancied herself a designer. If the items were handmade, they were of excellent quality. Perhaps he could commission a piece from her…

Felix was lost in thought, contemplating how he could broach the topic with the girl, when he felt a weight land against his shoulder. He jerked at the disturbance and turned to find Dupain-Cheng slouched against him. He frowned down at the slumbering girl before attempting to jostle her awake. When she did not move, he managed to lift his arm out from beneath her and grabbed both her shoulders in an effort to re-orientate her towards her side of the bench. Felix soon realized his mistake when Dupain-Cheng unconsciously dove into his side and slipped her arms around his midsection with a muffled hum.

He stiffened at the action and hissed quietly between his teeth, trying not to draw attention to his plight. Felix had always detested physical contact, so much so that he could barely withstand hugs from members of his own family. To have Dupain-Cheng, a mere acquaintance, touching him in such a way was disconcerting and confounding. However, being this close allowed him to more closely observe her unimpeded. She smelled faintly of lavender and honeysuckle. Her black hair seemed to shimmer blue when the light hit it just right, like a raven’s wing. Her lashes were long and fluttered like butterfly wings as she slept. Across her small nose and cheeks were a charming array of freckles that could only be seen at this close proximity. With his arms still slightly raised, he twisted a bit to examine how to disentangle her from his person. Unfortunately, due to this action, one of her hands accidentally slipped beneath his coat and found purchase on his knit sweater.

He froze as the sleeping girl seemed to temporarily come to life, wiggling herself under his coat and latching onto his waist. Within mere seconds, Felix had half of Dupain-Cheng draped across his lap and the other half tucked securely into his side. Dumbfounded, he looked down at the girl in disbelief. Was she seriously snuggled against him right now? Did she inherently trust him not to molest or pester her? He tried to unlatch her arms and hands from his person to no avail; her grip was tighter than leather pants in August. As he looked on, a small smile formed on her lips and she nuzzled closer with a contented sigh. ‘Well, at least one of us is comfortable,’ he huffed in resignation before settling his left arm over her slumbering form, having nowhere else to put it.

Felix looked around, noting that no one had noticed the sudden disappearance of his seat mate nor the struggle he had just gone through. As the class period wore on, the boy unconsciously began to relax into the warm embrace of the teen asleep in his lap. It was not until an hour had passed that Felix realized he had become accustomed to her presence and the intimate closeness of their bodies. He glanced down and watched the peaceful look on her face as she slept. With his free hand he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a silent chuckle. ‘Seems I can handle being touched by you, not that you gave me much choice in the matter…,’ Felix mused to himself. He lifted the double-breasted lapel of his coat and settled the material over her with a fond smirk. ‘It’s a good thing I have a packed lunch today. I don’t think I’ll be moving any time soon.’

~~~ Time Skip to the End of School ~~~

Marinette was disturbed from her nap by a loud ringing noise, scrunching her face until it passed. She smiled and burrowed deeper into the warm, sandalwood scented pillow she had wrapped herself around. It was the softest, most comfortable pillow she had ever laid on. The pillow shook as it chuckled. ‘Wait…pillows don’t chuckle!’ Her eyes flew open and she jerked back slightly, her eyes slowly rising up a sweater covered chest until she met Felix’s amused face. “I see you’ve finally awoken, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was starting to think I was going to have to bring you home with me.”

“Eep!” Marinette cried out as she jumped away. With the force of the movement, she overshot the bench entirely and was launched towards the aisle. She braced for a painful impact...that never came. Instead, she felt herself held up by a strong arm that was wrapped around her waist. She opened her eyes to find a set of shocked green mere centimeters away. Felix had lunged to grab her, planting one hand on the desk to steady them, giving the appearance that he had executed some sort of elaborate dip. They stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment before he finally pulled them both to their feet, clearing his throat as he let her go and looked away.

“I-I-I’m so, so sorry, Felix! I wasn’t aware of w-w-what I was d-doing!” Marinette stuttered, turning a rosy shade of pink as she attempted to hide in her fluffy scarf.

The boy in question was suppressing a blush with all his willpower. They had been in such a suggestive position mere moments ago when he caught her, luckily there were no students left in their classroom to witness it! Coupled with the unexpected feeling of loss he was experiencing when she abruptly retreated, he was entirely too flustered for his own comfort. He cleared his throat, “It’s quite alright, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You were unable to be woken and seemed quite comfortable. However, if you feel obligated to make amends to me…”

Felix allowed a pregnant pause to form as a devious smirk spread across his face. Marinette felt her stomach twist with trepidation – she knew that look meant trouble. ‘What could he possibly ask for?’ She thought wearily, her mind beginning to whirl with increasingly ridiculous predictions.

“…I find myself lacking in essential warm winter accessories,” he finally finished nonchalantly. The girl stared at him dumbfounded as her spiraling thoughts ground to a halt. It dawned on her that Felix was attempting to make a joke to break the awkward atmosphere between them, relying on their usual banter to do so. She choked on air and then burst into giggles. Felix felt a new warmth bloom in his chest at the sound. He had never made her laugh like that before!

“I think that can be arranged, monsieur,” she replied slyly. “I know an up-and-coming designer in high demand. But, for the great Felix Graham de Vanily, I’m sure she could make an exception.” They exited the classroom with smiles on their faces and a warmth in their hearts, no longer feeling the brisk breeze that whipped at their cheeks.

~~~

In the coming weeks, Felix began sporting new scarves, mittens, and even coats in charcoal grey, caramel brown, pine green, indigo blue, and garnet red – which was oddly his favorite. Their classmates seemed curious by his sudden change of color preference, mistaking it for an opportunity to befriend the derisive boy. Some questioned him, attempting to find out where he had bought such luxurious garments. He brushed them all off in his usual dismissive manner, deciding not to divulge any information.

Felix’s lip quirked upwards as he silently stroked the silver monogram on the tail of the scarf on his way to the classroom. The monogram itself was an ornate shield containing his initials but, integrated within the vines that clung to the edges of shape, were the letters ‘MDC’. His small smile reached his eyes as they met the friendly bluebell ones at the back of the room. A hidden message, a reminder of that one cold day that brought two souls closer together.

Perhaps, together, they might stave off more than just the cold weather.

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