#something like a beacon. for better or worse

[cannotgiveafuck]

Thinking about Billy Batson and horror and the kind of emotional / psychological damage that would be wrought on a child in that genre when he’s smart and savvy and could turn into a Champion of Magic, but is still very much a vulnerable kid. More aware of the world than those his age, but sees things through a lens adults cannot. Privy to things that only show themselves to those most likely to see them.

Anyway, have a little snippet. Might pick it back up again later.

This was the fifth night in a row that Billy was getting by on little to no sleep.

Don’t get him wrong, he could go a day or two if the going gets tough. Sometimes the winters were especially cold, or the summers really hot. Sometimes the storms got so bad that his place had leaked or the wind threatening to knock everything away. And sometimes, not now, of course, but back when it happened, sometimes Uncle Ebenezer had a bad few days that made sleeping in that house neigh impossible.

So, truly, Billy was no stranger to lack of sleep. He could survive, trust him. He could survive just about anything. But five nights was pushing it, even for a fellow like him.

The first night hadn’t even been noticeable. All sorts of noises happened in the apartment he was squatting in. There was the family down the hall with the crying baby, and the couple a few doors down that had shouting arguments, an old man across from him that couldn’t hear very well so his late night television was always turned up, and Madison next door had her new boyfriend over a lot and they were quite loud. So, Billy was used to all sorts of loud noises - but, see, those were normal noises. Just as traffic outside or a car alarm or police siren were all normal.

What wasn’t normal was the silence that shrouded over the apartment the moment his clock hit midnight.

But, Billy didn’t even notice that first night. So tired from the week long mission he was away for with the Justice League, his head hit his pillow the moment he got back and while he wanted to be out like a light, he spent most of the night tossing and turning. And really, he did not notice anything the second or third nights either. Granted a few days leave from hero work, Billy spent that time doing seasonal errands around the neighborhoods and shops. He had to earn money somehow, and not a lot of tasks were out there for eleven year olds to do. Those nights, too, were of fitful bouts, his eyes closed and willing sleep to really pull him under, but true rest just out of reach.

It was that fourth night, when he was laying there, eyes opened and staring at the ceiling with its ages old stain and crack, listening to the normal noises of the apartment complex - that was the night he noticed something was off. When all that sound was just... gone.

Billy didn’t even really notice at first. Eyelids heavy with every blink, but sleep avoiding him, the ringing in his ears that only silence could make. And when he did notice it, his brows furrowed in confusion. Thought that maybe, for once, everyone finally decided night time was for rest. Wondered if everyone else was snuggling up in their beds and under their blankets with the night chill really creeping in fierce, as it does when the heat goes out or couldn’t keep up with the winter winds. And sure, it was May, but man, it really was very cold inside all of a sudden.

He pulled the covers tighter over him, burrowing into them to stave off the shivers suddenly wracking through his small body. Eyes closed, urging sleep to please, please let him rest, Billy heard the wails of a child, or maybe a baby, just down the hall. 

Billy thought, you and me both, kid...

The fifth night, the last one he had before heading back to the Watchtower, Billy couldn’t explain why he was still awake. Staring at the ceiling again, watching the reflected lights of cars go by, listening to the old man’s television play an infomercial - he thought maybe he should do more Marvel work overnight at this rate. At least he’d be doing something useful with his time instead of trying to get sleep that would never happen. At least Marvel never was bogged down by the heavy weight of human limits.

Silence fell over the apartments again.

There was that wailing child again, too.

By the time Billy started to tune into it, really listen to the sobs, he was sitting up from his mattress, gaze on his front door. The cries were right on the other side.

Logically, Billy knew that as a hero, he should be rushing toward that door. He should be pulling it open and checking on the kid who should not be wandering the hallway crying away. He should be seeing what was wrong and try to fix it, save the day as he usually did. It was what Marvel would have done.

However, Billy did not move a muscle. He stayed right there on his bed on the floor, staring at the door he knew was locked several times over. His body refused to do anything that involved getting up and opening the door. His body barely seemed to want to breathe. His mouth shut tight and his lungs taking short, quiet breaths, even as his heart jack hammered in his chest.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong, and not with him. Billy didn’t survive the streets this long by not listening to his instincts.

And right then, as scratching and pounding started up against the door to try to get inside - Billy’s instincts told him not to move. Told him not to let that kid inside because that the thing on the other side wasn’t a kid at all. Not when its cries got loud and lower and more guttural with every shake of the doorknob.

Not when the words that seeped through sent shivers down Billy’s spine. Made him grip the blankets, almost made him call forth the power of Shazam - the shriek of: I’m hungry, let me in, let me in, I’m hungry, hungry, hungry.

#billy batson #captain marvel #shazam #story time #idk what im doing man. that post about billy and horror got me thinking again #ive had some ideas rattling about #specifically about child ghosts. or entities that appear to be children #how they always tend to show themselves only to other kids #either because they trust kids. or bc kids are easy targets #sensitive to things around them #and how Billy is a weird pull for these things #bc hes a kid. but also hes got that magic about him. #something like a beacon. for better or worse #billy doing supernatural horror adventures #he ends up crashing at HQ for a night curled up under the monitors #the only place the entities cant go bc its in space #probably while cyborg is on duty. or jonn.

[luveline]

Hey jade!! i love your writing so much<3

Also what do you think of prison!spencer × Stripper!reader?👀

im not sure if this is what you meant but I hope you like it ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Too much," you murmur to yourself, tilting your head one way and then the other. The bags under your eyes have been dark lately from a severe lack of sleep, but all this makeup won't help make tips. "Way too much." 

You lean back to ask one of the girls for a wet wipe but the dressing room is empty. Swearing to yourself, you duck down for your bag. You have tissues, and they'll have to do it. 

Things have been hard since Spencer's… event. You don't sleep well without him, worse wondering what it is he's going through right now. His friends don't really know that you're seeing one another, and so being kept in the loop has felt akin to begging for scraps. You miss Agent Hotchner in times like this. He always had a soft spot for you. 

You hum a song under your breath as you rub the cakey makeup under your eyes. Washing your face would be nice. Going home would be better. You've been trying to make some extra money in case Spencer never comes home; you won't have his security to fall back on if things fall apart here. 

You don't want his security. You just want him to come home. Sighing, you pick up your phone and open the gallery app. It's a second hand thing you got at a pawn shop but it has enough storage to keep as many blurry photos of your boyfriend as you'd like. Pictures of him everywhere and doing everything, his big smile like a beacon. 

You stop scrolling when you find the one you want. It's favourited with a red heart at the bottom of the screen. Spencer took it, you remember —you were too busy kissing his cheek to navigate the settings. He looks happy. You could never understand how happy he is to be with you, how through everything, a long time of knowing one another and a hundred thousand acts of a kindness you didn't deserve, he's stayed by your side. He doesn't care that you're a dancer. He's proud of your choices. He loves you for you, even if he does get a little jealous every now and then. 

You lay your phone down on the dressing table, cheek flat beside it. "Time to come home, Dr. Reid," you whisper. 

Your phone pings and you ignore it. It pings again and you turn off your notifications. It's probably Spencer's nice friend Penelope, or one of the girls wanting to borrow something. 

You shed your robe to look yourself over in the mirror. The lingerie you're in tonight's not to your taste but a fan favourite, the bra and underwear both plum in colour with lace and black garters to be clipped. You turn to one side and narrow your gaze at a ladder running up your leg. 

You save a bottle of clear nail polish in your bag for this occasion. 

You're sitting on the floor with your leg out in front of you when someone knocks on the door. The girls don't knock. 

If it's a patron you have a taser, and besides, they don't usually knock either. A bouncer, then. 

"Come in, please!" you call lightly. 

You don't bother looking up, a creature of habit. It'll be the same thing as usual, insert man wants to buy insert dance from you for insert amount of time. Are you interested? 

You hum as you paint the rip in your garter. The nail polish will stop it from ripping any further, but you're going to need new ones. 

"You're prettier than when I left. How did you do that?" 

You tip the bottle over as you flinch, you don't care, you look up at the compliment and the familiar voice, and find Spencer standing in the doorway. 

You've pictured this moment multiple times a day since the day he was arrested, hundreds of reactions. In pretty much all of them you throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave again, but all those hours of missing him coalesce on top of you. You want desperately to touch him and you end up crying into your hands instead. Tears quicker than you knew they could arrive, hot and thick as your sob. 

"Hey," Spencer says, kneeling down in front of you. He takes your wrists into his hands. "Hey… don't cry." 

You can't help it. 

He wraps his arms around you and lets you sob. "I thought you'd be happy to see me," he murmurs. 

"I missed you," you say, the words dragged from you like agony on a hook. 

"I missed you too." He rubs your back. If he cares that you're in your underwear he doesn't have much to say about it. He eventually started making jokes about all of this stuff when he realised you wouldn't be offended, but he's never cruel about anything. He's far from it now, pulling your shoulder into his chest as he pats your arms. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm really sorry. It got out of control. But, on the bright side…" 

You sniffle and pull your gaze up to his face. When you see the hollows of his cheeks you almost start crying again. "What?" you ask. 

"Well, now I'm cool enough to be your boyfriend." 

You push him backwards and crawl into his lap, knees on either side of him, weight against his abdomen. Your arms weave behind his head and you push your cheek into his likely too hard to be painless. He just sighs in relief. 

"Do you have something in your pocket?" you whisper, your voice stuffy. "Or was prison very hard?" 

He laughs and digs in between you to pull the little box that had been digging into you out of his pocket. "It's for you." 

"Don't want it." 

"I don't care if you want it. I missed our anniversary." 

"I missed you," you say, clinging to him for dear life.

You can't stop hugging him long enough to look. 

Eventually, he peels you off of the floor and you get dressed to go home with him. It takes a long time —you keep stopping to hug him between items of clothing, checking that he's real, that's he's him, even if he looks different now. He has to take the reins or you'll never make it home, pulling your coat over your shoulders and zipping it closed. 

When he's done, he takes your face into both hands. "You've been safe while I was gone? No trouble?" he asks. 

"Nobody messes with me. My boyfriend's in the FBI." 

"Well, we're taking a vacation." He blows out a big breath. "Jesus, I'm sorry, but I really need to kiss you right now." 

"Even though I look junky?" 

"You look perfect." He kisses you before he's finished, his praise smothered by your lips. He kisses you so hard you can't breathe by the end of it. "I'm sorry," he says, pressing a softer one under your eye. "Prison was actually pretty hard." You lean in, lingering nose to nose with him. "I couldn't sleep without you near me." 

"You're only saying that 'cos you saw me in my underwear." 

"Yeah, that's exactly why." He practically giggles. "No, I just love you."

You couldn't sleep without him either. You get home and sleep for days, tangled with each other in bedraggled sheets. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[stargirlfics]

IRON

got a request awhile back for Battinson + pussy eating and l couldn’t resist!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, size/strength kink, slight exhibitionism, reader is a bit of a brat! smut: oral (reader receiving), manual restraints, praise kink, body worship, mask kink

Word Count: 2.5k

One could hardly say it was your fault. 

Bruce had left you here, in the Tower, all by your lonesome. You couldn’t be to blame, it was simple as that.

Though you didn’t protest his departure (you knew how important his work for the city was, how he’d answer that beacon shining high in Gotham’s stormy skies whenever it appeared) you also couldn’t help but sulk and pout about missing him. 

He could be out there all night and as selfish and indulgent as it was, you had plans, ones that involved as minimal amount of clothing as possible and his lips on yours, these desires being something you had started to tell him when it became clear he was needed in the city tonight instead. 

You could only hope the slight pinching grip of his hands on your waist as he left you with a tender kiss to your cheek meant he wouldn’t forget about your needs. 

It was raining now, just a little under a steady downpour and time seemed to move entirely too slow, barely an hour having passed with your next glance at the large grandfather clock in the foyer.  

Huffing a sigh, you wandered over to the bookshelves lining the alcoves in Wayne Tower’s main room, browsing amongst a few of your favorite novels that had found a new home here before you were pulling one off the shelf and snagging an old throw blanket, heading downstairs to Bruce’s hidden workspace to curl up in your usual spot and wait for his return. 

Funny, how casual this felt, like it was any other weekend night but most people in Gotham weren’t waiting up for the vigilante they called a lover to come home were they? And yet it was exactly where you wanted to be. 

For better or worse you were tied to Bruce and therefore tied to The Batman, swiftly coming to fall for both, to want both and all of who Bruce is, even when he made you worry. 

He promised both you and Alfred that he’d be careful and did every time he went out but he knew you would worry anyways, neither of you asking the other to change, loving each other too much to ask of it. 

Somehow you fashioned another fitting piece to the ever shifting puzzle that was Bruce Wayne and you weren’t going to trade it for the world.

The descent below ground brought a change in temperature, cool chilly air sweeping across your skin once you stepped onto the expanse of the abandoned terminus.

But the familiarity of it and the blanket draped over your shoulders was doing a fine job at keeping you warm, and the sleeping bats hanging above you were a fond presence with how much time you spent down here now. 

You were right at home.

Curled up on the sofa tucked into one of the spare corners in the workspace you chewed at the nail of your thumb, finding that the novel you’d chosen wasn’t helping your antsy, increasingly needy mood. 

The novel bordered on erotic and it made you squirm, heat creeping up from your chest to settle in your cheeks, your thighs pressing together without thought.

Mind wandering, dreaming of a steamy kiss, of being scooped up by him and made to feel good, the ache in your core finally being sated. 

You kept reading into the midnight hour, eventually unable to stop thinking of the details, his towering form, large, strong, and sure hands that gripped and held you so sweetly, so tightly, and how good it felt to be taken apart by him too. 

Bruce was unassuming like that, shy and reserved, awkward even, until he wasn’t, making it a point to discover all the ways he could fluster you, make you whine, and beg for him again and again. 

He was good at it too, had gotten especially skilled with that smart and stubborn mouth of his, and tonight, that’s what you wanted most. 

Wanted to grind yourself against his lips, his tongue, your clit bumping against his nose until your brain went quiet and all you could feel was the pulsing of the pleasure he loved giving you.  

Distracted by your fantasies you almost missed the soft whirring of the terminus gate opening, the book dropping closed in your lap when you realized he was back. 

It was late in the night now, it had been hours but you never felt more energized, letting the blanket pool around your middle as you watched the sleek black muscle car roll in, streaked with rain, the rumble from its engine reverberating against your chest in thrilling comfort. 

You stood up then, stretching out your limbs, a sly smirk threatening to stay on your lips as you watched Bruce step out of the car, his inky black cape draped around him, cowl shiny with moisture, and oh those eyes, shrouded in painted on shadows, his gaze finding yours immediately. 

“Thought you might be in bed by now,” his voice gruff but gentle as he spoke to you, a tone reserved especially for you.

“I considered it but thought waiting up for you here would be a lot better,” an innocent sigh left your lips while you busied yourself with folding the blanket, turning your back towards him, putting a nice little tilt and bend to your hips when you leaned over. 

The heavy footfall of his boots coming closer sent another thrill running up your spine, “Indeed it is, missed me that much, hm?”

Bruce was indulging your antics, always one to entertain your moods, your fantasies, wired on the adrenaline of his late night work in the streets, it made for such a potent mixture and you were delighted. 

“Mhm, cause someone’s skills were needed elsewhere, I had to make due all by myself,” you feigned a pout, trying to hide your smile when you spotted the briefest widening of his eyes at your words. 

He took another step towards you but you skirted away, dodging his hulking figure, the plated armor of his Bat suit still a little intimidating to you, your core clenching around nothing at the thought of being handled by those hands clad in Batman’s gloves, to feel his strength, the brute force in his biceps and forearms, pinning you down to do what he pleased with you. 

It’s all you could think about. 

Maybe it was the heightened level of your desire that made you feel a little bolder tonight, more eager to tease, to get under his ever-so-stoic skin, because you were making your way over to the car now, your hand trailing over its frame, walking, swaying almost till you were standing at the hood of the car, facing Bruce again who’s eyes were fixated on you. 

No words needed to be said as you smiled sweetly, your hands falling to your sides, tracing the edges of the satin slip dress hugging your body, fingers slipping under the hem, dragging it up your thighs a little. 

Chest tightening at his steady, measured steps toward you, one of your hands coming down to swipe over your inner thighs, touching yourself before he could reach you all the way, a giggle slipping out when you heard him grumble in frustration. 

It wasn’t often that you leaned into your brattier tendencies, but tonight, you were in that kind of mood, something sparking low in your tummy seeing him in the cowl, the suit making him appear bigger, taller, and underneath that you knew he had the strength to carry all that gear, to move and fight in it and it made you feel so much smaller in comparison, finding a thrill in pushing buttons. 

“Move your hand, baby.” his command came gently, a warning in itself of sorts, telling you he was going easy on you, giving you a chance to behave. 

Any other night you would have yielded, knowing just how good he could give it to you when you listened to him, but tonight you wanted the less inhibited side of him so instead, you kept your hand between your thighs, fingers finding slick skin with ease. 

“You have to wait your turn, sir,” you flicked your eyes up towards his playfully, heart jumping into your throat at his expression, the tick of his jaw. 

Bruce was pressed against you now, hands moving up to cage you against his chest, your breaths heavier, already losing the battle. 

It was so easy for him to break your tough girl act, knowing full well you were just as desperate as he was, knowing your weak spots and using them to his advantage.

Like now, for instance, using your distracted state to catch you off guard, his hands finding your waist and lifting, placing you up onto the warm, wet hood of his car, a delighted squeak filling the air as he lay you back. 

You were dough in his hands, shaped by the roll and press of his fingers, the weight of them making you whine as he pushed your legs apart, all but growling at your lack of underwear. 

The sight of him settling between your thighs, his body over yours filling your entire field of vision unlocked something for you, your heart beating wildly at the feeling of the suit again your skin, cool droplets of water landing on from the ears of his cowl as he lowered his head to your ribs. 

His lips were warm as they kissed down your torso, his hands keeping your thighs spread out for him, open so his mouth had a clear path to travel down, your breath hitching the lower his mouth went. 

A needy whine slipped out when he stalled, just hovering over where you wanted him most, his huff of laughter making you squirm from sensitivity. 

“Look who can’t wait their turn now…you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood.” Bruce chuckled lowly, catching you by surprise and making you ache for more. 

“Please-oh!” you weren’t too proud to beg, his mouth finally touching down on puffy folds.

The move turned your plea into a moan, hands jerking, slipping on the rain droplets now soaking your dress, grasping anything for purchase as your hips rocked with his movements. 

Curses and half stifled moans filled the air as he buried his face into your heat, his tongue lapping and swirling around your clit, moving further down to taste you properly. 

Your muscles ache from the strain of flexing against him, your body chasing the sensations he was giving you, the building pressure in your abdomen, the way he groans against your pussy, drinking you down, it all made your brain hazy in the best way. 

“Taste so fucking good…fuck.” the words left his lips with ease, finding them easier to come by when he was under the suit, when he was most himself. 

Trembling hands of yours creep down to grasp at his own hands still keeping your thighs held apart wide, and then move down, timidly tugging his head closer, crying out at the change in pressure, all your nerves tingling. 

Something about only being able to catch glimpses of his eyes, the sharp edge of his jawline as he ate you out, and the rest covered by the mask made you open up for him further, your desires reaching no end. 

Your hands pushed at his arms until he caught your wrists, holding them back with one hand, pinning them to your tummy, leaving you panting, unable to help but grind yourself against the patterned flick and swirl of his tongue. 

The added thrill of being so exposed, though this was a private space, how open it seemed, made you feel on display, another wave of heat flooding your body. 

Goosebumps travel down your arms as the cool brush of his free hand caresses your frame, grabbing dewy flesh, feeling your breasts, your waist underneath his grip, loving how you molded to his touch, how perfect you were in his arms. 

He could spend all night like this, making you feel good, pulling those high pitched whines and gasps from your throat, making your thighs tremble like they were doing now. It’s all he could think of, all he could do. 

“Please, please, keep going, yes!” more whimpers fall prettily, your body turning soft and pliant under the sweet pressure of his lips, the way his tongue sweetly nudges inside you, licking your essence, building you up higher and higher. 

Every now and then he’ll slow it down, teasing you just a little for his own self indulgent reasons before heeding your heady whimpers for more, building you back up again, enjoying the way you seemed to drip from his tongue, how he could make such a mess of you. 

He knows you’re close, can tell by the way you flutter around his tongue, can feel the frenzied aching in your limbs as it begins to happen. 

“Come on, let go. Now. Let me feel you,” the assertion in his tone left no room to argue, the gruff, grit out encouragement giving you the final push you needed.

Your orgasm reaches you quickly as his tongue returns to your clit, dragging out the sensations, making you shake even more, almost exhausted by the force of it. 

What a sight this must be, being spread out so sinfully and all for him, something Bruce intended to savor, the fact that you were all his, that rough exterior shedding a little more easily now that he knew he’d given you what you needed. 

His lips were still leaving kisses on your throbbing clit and sensitive inner thighs, staying close, bright eyes peering into yours, wanting the close contact to go on a little longer. 

That was just fine by you, he could have whatever he wanted with the way he just made you feel, and still, amusement twinkling for just a moment in his eyes at seeing you struggle to catch your breath. 

Pushed up onto your elbows now you peer down, cheeks burning again at seeing just how messy you’d become, rain and your arousal damp on your inner thighs, shining around Bruce’s lips and chin.

“God…that was so good, thank you, baby,” your praise and gratitude were soft spoken, holding all the usual affection you had for him, none of your earlier antics remaining. 

You watched him smirk at your content sighs, pulling the cowl off with ease, a practiced move that was second nature now. 

It wasn’t fair that he could look so handsome, rain soaked and hair disheveled, black paint still smudged around his eyes too but it was a look that fit him well and had much too strong an effect on you, feeling the muscles of your thighs jump once more. 

“Anytime. I’m always ready to straighten out that attitude for you, beautiful. Just say the word.” 

Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you laying back against the car again, trying to hold back whimpers and giggles when he followed close after you, wanting, no needing another taste, needing to see you fall apart again. 

“Think you can be a good girl and keep those legs open for me?” 

“Mhm, just don’t want you to stop, please.” 

“Never…have to make up for all those hours I was gone, right.” 

You shared his sly little smile and lay back for him once more, the searing kisses unleashed upon your still tingling skin dragging you back under, right where you wanted to be, under the skillful fangs of The Bat himself.

————

A/N: Well it had to be done! Cause I can’t be told otherwise, Rob’s Batman eats it like a starved man and I will stand by that! Period! Lol thank you for reading this fun little fic, lemme know what you think! Any and all thirsty comments welcome! 🖤

some tags, no pressure! @flamingdisputes @littlekidsteve @eupheme @saradika @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @tarrenterror25 @moreofem @squidlywiddly87

#amalia writes #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #the batman smut #battinson x reader #battinson smut #batman x reader #batman smut #battinson x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #batman fanfiction #the batman 2022

[peachesofteal]

Ghost/Soap/female reader 18+ mdni - dark content Running from Simon at the bar because he’s the scary man who wants to pick his teeth with your finger bones… only to find an angel waiting in the wings.

Your second martini is stronger than the first. 

You’re not sure how it’s even possible, considering the contents of a martini is mostly just alcohol, but it stings a little sharper on your first swallow, and you eye the skewer of olives skeptically. 

Oh well. 

More bang for your buck, you suppose. Better to get the job done faster, and cheaper, than the alternative. 

The bar is bustling, and you watch it all from the corner you’re tucked into. Coeds from across the city pack like tinned fish against one another, yelling and breathing in each other’s faces, loud laughter and boisterous conversations bouncing off the walls. Cigarette smoke cloys, orange-red ends flickering in the low light of the evening, blazing bright before they’re snuffed out and replaced. 

Your phone buzzes with a text, ten minutes late, and surprise is few and far between when you read that your activities for tonight have now evaporated, plans cancelled with a simple six-word sentence. 

Sorry, I can’t make it now. 

Asshole.

The vodka is stiff on your lips. Your tongue seeks the rim of your glass, flicking at a leftover drop of olive and alcohol, vermouth herbaceous in the back of your mouth. 

“Seat taken?” A gruff, rough dipped voice calls over your shoulder, gesturing to one of the only bar stools left in the building, and you answer without looking up.

“All yours.” 

“Thanks love.” The pet name straightens your spine, and you sneak a glance, eyeing the bulk settling at your side. “Usin’ that?” He points at the ashtray, thick finger alone in the air, and you shake your head. 

He meets your eyes head on as you turn to look at him, curiosity burning a hole in your brain, and good sense has your stomach tightening into a pit. 

A five-alarm fire rages, gusts of wind and pockets of brush fueling it’s spread, encouraging it to burn far and wide inside you until it consumes everything in its path. 

Danger, it shrieks. Run.

The man’s face is scarred. His nose is crooked. His eyes are dark. He’s a hell baptized image of Ares, a gladiator, a solider. A monster of men. 

And he stares at you like he knows you. 

It’s unnerving enough to set you adrift, free falling through the possibilities. 

It’s danger, but so much more. So much worse. He transcends lethality, strength and bloodlust shining in his expression, a dark beacon lighting the way home. Pine and cigarette smoke, drifting in the stale air. 

Just finish your drink and tab out. Leave. 

“Out by yourself tonight?” You blink at the croon in his voice, serrated tip of a knife dripping with honey, and answer automatically. 

“No.” It’s a lie of course, but you were raised with good self-preservation instincts. You’ve been a girl alone in a bar before, on a train, in an Uber. You know how to tilt the table, load the dice. Pretend you’re with someone, or on the phone, or have someone waiting for you. Lie and pretend. Make it believable. 

The flick of a lighter draws your attention, and he extends a fresh smoke towards you. An olive branch. A trick. 

“Want one?” You twist your face into the most disgusted mask manageable, and he chuckles. “Suit yourself. I’m Simon, by the way.” Lie. You give him something tugged from thin air, something you’re not going to remember in ten minutes time. 

The bartender comes by, and you’re both grateful for the reprieve, and a chance to close out. Until-

“An’ another one of those.” He points at the glass, your eyes going round, cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck. 

“Oh. No, that’s-“ 

“C’mon. One won’t kill ya.” You should tell him it would, it might. Should get loud. More insistent. 

All the rebuttal evaporates when his shoulder shoves against yours, effectively pinning you between the bar top and the wall, heavy thigh bleeding heat against your exposed leg. Your too short dress is now a colossal mistake, and you curse your date for bailing, and yourself for believing he’d even show up in the first place. 

The man, Simon, makes a show of looking around, head on a swivel, roving over the crowd before turning back you with a glint. He knows. He knows you’re not here with anyone. “So, who’d you get all pretty for tonight then?” Smoke rolls from his lips, and the lump in the back of your throat is so thick, it tries to choke you. 

“My- my date.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Not here.” You grit each word, glaring. It only earns you another smile, eyes crinkling in the corner, a shark sniffing blood in the water. 

“Poor thing. An’ your dress is so nice, too. Little short, but… that’s alright. You didn’t know.” He takes a swig of his drink, neat bourbon, room temperature gasoline, and your mouth dries up. 

Didn’t know what? 

The subtle alarm bells ringing in the back of your head become nuclear sirens. 

The martini sweats on the bar top, leaving a wet ring around the base of the glass. Your stomach sours. “Thank you, for the drink, but-“ 

“Drink it.” You haven’t looked away from it, you think, know it hasn’t been tampered with… yet the idea of doing something this stranger, this man asks, terrifies you. 

“I uh…” 

“Don’t wanna be rude, do ya pet?” Fuck. You survey the room, looking for anyone who has noticed you, who has observed this interaction, who has realized what’s happening in this little dark corner. 

No one pays you a lick of attention. If they do, they spot the hulking mass of a man at your elbow and avert their eyes immediately. A few glance back in disbelief, like they recognize him somehow, or know him, before pointedly looking away.  

You’re all but invisible. 

Everything flows around you like water. You’re a rock beneath the surface, affecting a swell, an eddyline, and yet, no one knows. No one can see. 

You swallow half the drink in one gulp, hope and prayer on the wind. 

He’ll leave you alone, once you bore him. Once he realizes he won’t get anything out of you, he’ll move onto someone else. Someone more interesting. 

“How is it?” His leg presses harder on yours, a quadricep like cement halting you effectually, securing your immobility against him with a simple movement. 

He’ll pick you clean, and then pick his teeth with your bones. 

“Fine.”  

“Jus’ fine, eh?” His jaw flexes, and a split second of confusing emotion controls you, forcing new words from your mouth in a desperate attempt to appease. 

“It’s… good. It’s good.” Ice layers across the top of it, and you take another sip for the show, half smile painted on loosely. 

You have to get out of here. You have to go now. 

“If you’ll excuse me…” you flex, trying to stand, but he shakes his head. 

“Where you off to?” Your neck snaps back, indignant, and then you raise your voice over the din, too loud to be considered casual, fingers gripping the edge of your seat until your knuckles hurt. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” Eyes half lidded, he traces you from head to toe before nodding, turning back to his drink almost as if he’s uninterested, grim line of his mouth twisting into a smile and settling around the end of his cigarette. 

Once you’re in the hall, you take a left to the emergency exit, not a right, spilling out the back and into star studded night, gasping for air so cold it shocks your lungs. 

“Whoa, hey there.” An accent croons, and you turn in a panic, palms out. “Easy, easy bonnie. What’s got ye all upset?” Your entire body flags with relief, a rip cord pulled against your sense and judgement. The man, the Scottish man, seems friendly, seems kind, wide blue eyes alarmed and worried, brows creased gently as he helps keep you upright. 

“S-sorry. Sorry, I just… I just had… the weirdest-“ It doesn’t make sense, to try to explain, and nothing sounds right coming off your tongue, so you flail, and he tries to comfort you. 

“Shhh, ye’re alright now. Just breathe.” His palm is firm against your side, and you shake your head, trying to put words to the madness brewing at your back inside the bar. 

“There was a man, and he-“ The streetlamps flare, burning as bright as the sun, and you blink, grasping for your bearings. “He…” 

“He what, bonnie?” His voice is distorted, and the arm at your side now creeps around your back. “What’s wrong?” Your adrenaline surges, leaving your head throbbing, and nausea claws it way up the back of your throat. 

“N-nothing, I…” You’re fuzzy. Everything out of balance, and you gasp for air. 

The door behind you creaks open and slams closed, jolting you in the grip of the Scotsman. 

“It’s alright.” He coos. You’re weak limbed, malleable in his hold, and he turns your face into his neck, rubbing your back, his chest vibrating with every syllable. “Just close your eyes.” He smells good, woodsmoke and juniper, pine and cigarettes, something familiar enough to prickle, far away awareness digging at the soft sinew in the front of your brain. 

Pine and cigarettes. Pine… and cigarettes. 

It’s the last thing your rational mind pieces together before you’re lost to the darkness. 

#ghoap x reader #not edited so mind the mistakes #peach uses PET for the first time everyone #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #sorry had to get this out of the brain

[xiao-come-home]

boothill's censor has made me hyper aware of how much i swear in my daily life. i'm worse than him honestly - 💫

I too swear every second word 😭

Alright, alright - Boothill can admit whenever someone's truly better than him at something, and in this case, he surrenders the win to you, when it comes to swearing.

When you're around Boothill for more than 10 minutes, you know he likes to swear - he always has, except for the time he was around his younger siblings, but other than that, no one could possibly shut up his potty mouth.

Now, he can't really swear anymore (or at least, until he fixes his synesthesia beacon), but counts how many times you swear per day and then (jokingly) confronts you, only to get the same treatment back and surprisingly answering, "ain't no fudging way! You swear way more than me!"

He does find it adorable at times when you swear so much, especially when something takes you off guard, and sometimes holds cussing competitions with you - which is more about you saying a swear word, and seeing how many new words his synesthesia beacon will come up with instead of the actual swear word.

The thing that might finally get him to visit a mechanic is the fact that he just really wants to dirty talk to you, sigh.

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #.anon thirst #.💫 anon

[kitchenisking]

March Fic Rec

back to back recs cuz I wasn't paying attention to the weeks fly by😅

Obsession by Rae666 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,399, sterek)

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

The Wolf by rororowyourboat - (Rating: G, Words: 3,901, sterek)

Stiles and Derek haven't seen each other in years, but after talking on the phone nonstop for months now, Derek is finally moving back to Beacon Hills. The day he's supposed to arrive, he stops responding to Stiles' texts, and then a blue-eyed wolf shows up on his porch steps. Obviously something has happened to Derek, and Stiles needs to help him out... right?

Tease by katrint - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,852, sterek)

Stiles is used to Derek being all growly, claiming and rough when he gets jealous, but when something that usually would make Derek all the above happens, and Derek shows no interest in Stiles whatsoever, Stiles starts to worry.

Ulterior Motives by useyrwordsderek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,082, sterek)

In which Stiles is warm for Derek’s form, Derek is repressed, and Erica is awesome. (Lydia is also awesome, but that goes without saying.) Author’s notes: Set after Season 2; mild spoilers for all of S1 and S2. Previously posted to LJ. My first Teen Wolf fic! Be gentle!

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks - (Rating: G, Words: 1,068, sterek)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy - (Rating: Mature, Words: 17,707, sterek)

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation's sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he's the Sheriff's son so those are the breaks. What he doesn't expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.

He was alone with the Beast. His heart started pounding its way up into his throat. A burst of static came from his cell phone. "Scott! Oh my god! He's here! The Hale Beast is here with me and I'm alone and no one is here to witness when he kills me...to death!"

Treasure by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 71,231, sterek)

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

The Mending That You Need by torakowalski - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,861, sterek)

“He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.”

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 18,658, sterek)

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Transformation by sffan - (Rating: T, Words: 1,885, sterek)

“Dude. You turned into a wolf. What the hell? When did that start being a thing?”

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs #ficrec #fanfic

[marasvenus]

How An Author Would Describe You & Your Person ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Book a reading with me here!

Pile 1 ࿐

This is actually a very cute energy 🥹. If you were in a book, I think the book itself would be about your child/children but you and your person would play such a huge part in it.

An author would describe the two of you as a couple that had been through so much but came out of all of it stronger than ever. Maybe the two of you got together very young and struggled through some of the most transformative years of your life together, loving each other through a million different stages as you worked to find yourselves and each other. An author would write a lot about the bond the two of you share, the way it’s almost like you can read each others minds and understand each other on a level that is rare and beautiful. An author might write about financial struggles or loss that you may have faced together early in your relationship and how those struggles shaped each of you and your relationship as a whole for the better. There’s a strength and stability in your relationship because you survived your lowest points together and loved each other through your worst moments so you could become your best selves together.

Because this books seems to be from the POV of your child, it seems as though your relationship and the strength/stability of it would be referenced a lot in this book. You and your partner would be written in as voices of wisdom and words of advice when it was needed, helping guide the story in the right direction and give the reader hope and a sense of peace. I heard “the book wouldn’t feel whole without you” for some readers, you’d make the book really worth reading.

Pile 2 ࿐

An author would describe this love as a beautiful, all encompassing kind of love. Possibly a first love, the kind of love that you only feel once. There’s a rush of so much emotion and excitement but also fear of the unknown. This love is about embracing the uncertain and opening yourself up to another person in a way you haven’t opened up to someone before. Laying all your cards out on the table and hoping the other person is prepared to do the same. This love would be described as watching curiosity and infatuation bloom into love and admiration for someone that you’ll never get tired of getting to know. It’s about taking someone in for all that they are, mind, body, and soul.

This love would be described one of the most beautiful things that we get to experience as humans and part of what makes life so worth living, written as every beautiful emotion that makes all pain and suffering that we face at some point so worth it. I think you would be the author of the book this love is written in, writing from a place of wisdom and looking back on the past and everything that made you the person you become to be, writing about all the moments in your life that shaped you as a human and shaped you for better or for worse.

Pile 3 ࿐

This love is a love you haven’t found yet. Some of you may be going through heartbreak and I think this reading is meant as a beacon of hope, your guides reminded you that there is better for you out there and it will come when you least expect it. I heard “don’t hold on so tightly to something that no longer serves you”

This love would he written as devotion and certainty from the point of first eye contact. A love that never weavers and doesn’t leave room for any doubt. A love that you are deserving of. This love is a love worth fighting for. This is something you’ve dreamed about since you were a child, to finally receive everything you’ve been giving for so many years. It would be written as kind, gentle, forgiving, safe. This love is pure happiness and bliss and you will never be left doubting it or wishing for more.

This book would be a fantasy or fairytale book. Filled with beautiful scenery. You and your person would be apart of some sort of series of books, a couple that readers root for and want to see succeed. The book would provide readers with the same sense of comfort and safety that you and your person provide each other with. Stories of your love would give readers hope for themselves and their future.

#tarotblr #spirituality #tarot #tarot reading #free tarot readings #love reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot cards #collective reading

[dira333]

Of Godzilla and the Night Sky - Iwaizumi x reader

Finally done - tagging @shoulmate and @emmyrosee because for some reason Osamu had to play wingman in this one - come get your man

It helps that Miya Osamu is roughly your age. 

“Please,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I’m a quick learner!”

He eyes you for a moment. His face does not tell you anything and you suppose you can’t fault him for saying no. You’ve got no experience waiting tables and he’s not exactly looking for an employee.

“You can start tomorrow,” he agrees finally. “Do you have some time to go over everything right now or are you willing to come in earlier tomorrow?”

“I don’t have to be anywhere right now,” you stutter around and he nods, beckons you behind the counter.

This is how it starts. This is how it ends.

You’ve paid off your publisher instead of writing the last novel in your contract.

You’re free but without a job, almost all your savings have gone toward that freedom.

You’ve got no proper training but the almost forgotten two weeks you spent photocopying papers in your father's office when you were fourteen.

Maybe you’ve written too many romance books, have searched for too many signs where there had been none given, but the glowing sign of an Onigiri shop had called you in like a beacon in the stormy sea called life.

-

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya!” You greet with a friendly smile. Atsumu throws an arm around you and pulls you in.

“This is what I was talking about!” He calls out to his brother. “No one wants to see your ugly face when they come in. This is a smile that makes me want to eat.”

“Gross,” Sakusa mutters right behind him but while his mask hides his mouth, you can tell by his eyes that he sends you a smile.

Most of Atsumu’s team comes by at least once a week. High on adrenaline after a win, for team bonding, as Meian calls it, or just to lick their wounds after a particularly nasty loss. They’re not easy, with Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto all fighting for your attention while Inunaki keeps ribbing and teasing whoever he can get to. But they’re still under your favorite customers and sometimes, when the ruckus dies down a little, Sakusa comes to sit at the bar, mask put away, and asks about your day. You know Osamu thinks he likes you and Atsumu constantly tries to set the two of you up on a date.

But you know better. 

“How’s moving going?” You ask when Sakusa takes a seat at the bar, far away from where the rest of his teammates are trying to drink each other under the table.

Sakusa smiles softly. “It’s going well, thank you. But I’ve come to loathe the feeling of cardboard boxes. It’s disgusting.”

You laugh. “You are very particular in your likes and dislikes, aren’t you?”

He cocks his head to the side as if waiting for something. You sigh. “But you have great taste.” You add and he smiles smugly. 

Ever since you met his girlfriend - and was sworn to secrecy by him right after - he’s come to collect that particular comment almost every time the two of you talk.

“But enough about me,” He eyes the counter for a second before placing his elbows on the surface and leaning in. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay,” you tell him sincerely. “Osamu pays well and I don’t have that many expenses. I keep going like this I should be fine.”

“Hmm,” he eyes you suspiciously. “But you miss writing?”

You tense, throwing a look over his shoulder to check for people listening in. But they are still absorbed in their drinking game.

“I’m not… I miss the rush of it when the story would just… flow out of me. But I don’t have anything to tell right now and I don’t want to sit at my desk for hours staring at an empty document. That’s… That’s worse than cleaning the bathrooms after someone had the spicy Onigiri’s.”

Sakusa pulls a face but he nods, understanding. “I’m sure it will come back. But it’s good that you don’t have to rush anything, right?”

You smile. Yeah. It’s good. Life’s good.

-

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya!” You greet with a smile, hoping against hope that the nervous beating of your heart does not show on your face.

Atsumu reaches you first, slinging an arm around you before bounding off towards their table. There’s Hinata and Bokuto who hug you, Kageyama and Ushijima who nod at you in greeting, before Sakusa winks at you and steps aside to let Iwaizumi greet you.

The smile on his face makes your stomach flip a little but you keep your smile in place.

“Good to see you could come in again,” you tell him. He pulls you into a hug, warm and comforting, his scent washing over you like a wave of fondness. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he whispers into your ear before he pulls away again. 

“Come on, Coach!” Atsumu calls from the table, “We’re hungry!”

“Tell your brother then!” Hoshiumi crows right before Suna yells “Samu!” through the restaurant.

“Yeez, I’m here!” Osamu calls out from the kitchen. “And I’m not deaf, have some manners, will ya?!”

Iwaizumi takes his place at the table. It’s no coincidence that you come to stand right next to him to take their orders. It hasn’t been that long since they come in regularly after Friday’s training, Japan Men’s National Volleyball Team taking up most of the available space. It’s no loss in profit to keep the restaurant reserved for their team meetings and you’ve certainly enjoyed yourself ever since the first time Sakusa ventured over, Iwaizumi in tow, to introduce the two of you.

You like him. A lot, actually. There’s a warmth in his eyes that you seems to increase every time he looks at you. His interest in you is calm but sincere, and he remembers even the small things you mention offhandedly - like how you were worried that the plants you own could be poisonous to the kitten you found on the street or how your favorite brand of coffee has been discontinued. You like that he takes things slowly but is never careless about the meaning of his words. You wish, for the first time in forever, that you could write a story that feels like him. 

…

“Can I walk you home?” Iwaizumi asks as the team’s clearing out. You’re disinfecting the table, almost jerking up from surprise.

“I… uh…” You throw a look at Osamu who grins. 

“Go,” he insists. “I can take care of this.”

You live barely fifteen minutes away and while you’ve longed for a shorter distance on particularly rainy days, you loathe the shortness of your walk tonight. Iwaizumi’s warmth seems to seep into you just from walking next to him. His laugh vibrates through the air in a way you can almost see.

“I used to paint doors,” you recall as you walk, not really sure what question of his got you to this answer, “Hoping I’d be able to open them and step into different worlds.”

“Do you like that idea?” He asks, “To step out of this world, to get away?”

“Not necessarily to get away. It’s more like… What’s out there, you know?”

He nods slowly, eyes straight ahead. You wait, trusting the time he takes to think.

“When I was a kid, I used to capture Cicada’s. But I always let them go again. I felt sorry for them, I think, because their life’s so short anyway.”

“But you still caught them.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, rubs his neck awkwardly, “What does that say about you?”

“I don’t know, but… maybe you knew that they did not belong to you, but you still wanted to hold on to them for a moment. Like friends? We don’t own them, they don’t belong to us, but we still wish we could keep them close.”

“That’s a weird analogy,” Iwaizumi teases you and you can’t help but laugh about it. “Yeah, but it’s late, so I’ll blame it on that.”

Your apartment block appears in front of you. You stop, not wanting the time to end. A small white face appears in your living room window, peering down at you. 

“Do you own a ghost?” Iwaizumi asks and you laugh. “No, that’s my kitten. She’s got a black body and a white head, so I named her Onigiri.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “You are quite creative with names. But I guess Onigiri wants you to come inside, so I won’t keep you any longer.”

It’s as awkward as it is not, to stand in front of each other, unsure on how to say goodbye. It’s Iwaizumi. It’s Iwaizumi.

When he hugs you, you wish he would have kissed you but you still sink into his arms like you always do, trying to imprint his warmth into your skin to last you until next Friday.

…

That night you can’t fall asleep.

Around midnight you find yourself in front of your computer, typing away, too tired to really think about the words flowing from your fingertips. But there are cicadas and little boys and doors leading to nowhere and everywhere at all.

-

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya!” You burst out, a little breathless from running. Just seconds ago you’d been helping Myamura in the backroom when the bell over the door alerted you of new customers. Iwaizumi’s grinning and you can feel your own lips pull into a wide smile at his sight, your hands already moving to grasp his. 

“I’ve got something for you!” You tell him before you can back out, glad that he came in alone today, just like you hoped he would. After all, it’s not Friday.

“Really? But I have nothing for you-” He starts, breaking off when you come back. “Is that a book?”

“Yes. Well, a manuscript, you could say. I wanted you to read it first. It’s a little silly and I might not sell it after all, because, you know, the whole thing about Godzilla-”

“You didn’t?!” His voice flips a little, his eyes wide. “You really wrote that silly little thing I mentioned?”

“Not silly at all!” You promise, still beaming. “I’m still working on a title, but I think “My best friend Godzilla” is a strong contender.”

Before you can react, think, feel even, Iwaizumi pulls you into a crushing hug. Your head sinks against his shoulder like it’s an instinct, like your body instantly knows where it belongs. 

You could have stayed there longer, warm and safe in his embrace, if not for Osamu pointedly clearing his throat behind you.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you pull back, “I was supposed to help Myamura.”

“Are you staying?” Osamu asks Iwaizumi over your head, handy busy as he speaks. Iwaizumi shakes his head and you feel your heart drop a little before he turns back to you with an apologetic smile. 

“I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll try to finish the book until then.”

“Oh, you don’t have-”

“I do.” He leans forward, pressing his lips against your temple in a move bolder than anything else he’s done before. You freeze and when he pulls away, his face is flushed and his voice hoarse as he bids you goodbye.

Osamu’s sending you a look that you pointedly ignore, skipping down the hallway to where Myamura’s waiting for you. Your heart’s somewhere in Iwaizumi’s back pocket, beating as fast as a hummingbirds wing as it follows him wherever he goes.

-

“Closing up?” Iwaizumi’s voice reaches you where you’re currently wiping the tables, exhaustion pulling on your limbs. His voice is soft and filled with warmth and something else you can only hear when he talks to you. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, surprise evident in your voice. The doors should have been closed already.

“Osamu let me in,” he explains, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. You sink into the embrace, the way he holds you threatening to put you to sleep.

“What are you doing here, though?” You ask again, trying to fight the exhaustion. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“I finished the book. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Oh?” You pull back, anxiety filling your stomach. Suddenly you’re no longer tired.

His smile sets you at ease. It’s that small smile he gets when he’s proud of something but doesn’t want to boast about it. You’ve seen it happen a lot with the team but never directed at you, never like this.

“Well, I… uh…” You turn around, trying to figure out what else you’ve got to do before you can call it a night.

“You can go home,” Osamu’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m your boss,” he points out, voice much too warm for his choice of words, “Go before I reconsider.”

…

“I never thought I’d get to read a story about a bitter Biologist who befriends Godzilla and learns to love humankind again because of that friendship.”

You laugh. “But you put that idea in my head. Why is it so surprising?” 

“Oh, don’t put this on me!” Iwaizumi puts a hand on his heart as he walks and it looks so much like Atsumu’s usual antics that you can’t help but giggle even as he talks on. “I only said it would be cool to see humans from Godzilla’s point of view. You created everything around it.”

“What was the best part?” You ask, nudging his side with your elbow. “Of the story?”

To your surprise he falls quiet, staring up into the night. You can’t see any stars through the fog of millions of streetlights, but somewhere above you they still exist. You look up as well, hoping to find what he’s looking for, hoping to find some calm when your heart’s still beating much too fast, much too far away. 

“I might butcher it, but I want to quote it.” He starts and your mouth turns dry when he looks at you like that, like he’s found the stars in your eyes instead of the night sky. “I saw the world as black and white before I met you. Too many wrongs and not enough rights, as if the world had turned into a night sky and one has to squint to make out the little shimmering dots of good in the blackness of bad. But you turned the night into morning, black into the soft lavender hues of a sun rising.”

“Hajime,” you breathe out and his lips pull into a smile you’ve never seen before. It’s wide and daring but softer than anything you’ve ever seen before. 

“I love your book,” he says, voice strong and confident now, “Because you put into words what I felt but didn’t know how to explain. And you told me how you felt too.”

“I-I did?”

His hands take yours, his skin warm, his hold strong. There’s something like amusement shimmering in his eyes. 

“Somewhere in the middle of the book you messed up. Our bitter Biologist was suddenly named Hajime. I can believe some coincidences but not this one.”

You swallow thickly. He pulls you forward and you sink into him like it was always meant to be. His lips press against your temple and you wonder, not for the first time, how one step to the left can lead you down the right path all along.

my Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Iwaizumi x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #Team Japan #Iwaizumi fluff #Iwa-chan #Onigiri Miya #Osamu is the best wingman #Haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

please give me fic recs where Derek is a big brother / dad figure to Issac with Sterek too, but without the pack calling Stiles mom, just pack feels or Derek found family feels.

I know these fics exists, they have to, I NEED THEM pretty please.

I think so!

Family Ties by Big_Hazard

(1/1 I 1,681 I General)

Isaac comes home from Paris and Derek makes a big change for both of their lives.

Brothers (a word so unfamiliar to Derek he probably couldn't spell it) by Nerdgoddess

(1/1 I 2,797 I General)

Derek Hale hasn't been a brother in a long time. He hasn't been a big brother for even longer. But slowly, with the help of the pack, he learns.

4 times in which Derek acts like a big brother + 1 time he gets treated like one.

The Barriers Within Yourself by Reinamy 

(1/1 I 2,977 I Teen)

It all comes down to Isaac messing up.

People Don't Regress into Babies, do they? by TylerM

(1/1 I 4,962 I General)

If there had ever been a time in Derek's life where he could have foreshadowed holding a crying baby on his hip as he tried to coo at him in a comforting manner while Peter uselessly laughed at him, he most definitely would have prevented it.

You see Derek has no idea how this happened. And by this, he means Isaac somehow magically turning into a toddler.

Repeat, a toddler.

- Or the one where Isaac magically gets turned into a baby and Derek has to look after him.

Can’t Walk Around With Open Wounds by BetoWrites

(5/5 I 8,075 I Mature)

It’s the holiday season, but Isaac isn’t in the mood to celebrate. Years after the Battle of the Nogistsune, he continues to be haunted by ghosts of a life he can barely recognize.

Upon his return to Beacon Hills, he discovers that — for better or for worse — he’s not the only one.

I Think Isaac Hale Sounds Nice by courtinator

(6/6 I 11,760 I General)

Derek sets out to begin the process of adopting Isaac, but it proves to be a little more difficult than he thought.

(to us) your ghost is born by stenoscope

(6/? I 14,169 I Teen)

“Shut up,” Boyd says easily, spearing a sausage on his fork. “It’d be a lot for anyone.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Isaac. We love you. Shut up.”

Isaac shuts up.

it begins with lies by sunmoontruth

(21/21 I 103,651 I Teen)

“We’re supposed to be the protectors of Beacon Hills,” Derek says. “You raised me to care about people, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Talia’s lips twitch a little, this soft frown that Derek hates to be the cause of. But he needs his mom to hear him, needs her to understand that they have the power to do something, and, therefore, they should. He needs her to understand that the abundance of caution has gone on for five years too long. He needs her to understand that the people of this town – this kid included – need someone to look out for them, and it should be this family.

Talia says, slowly, “I’ll check it out.”

—

Or the Hale fire never happens, the family fosters Isaac, and a war breaks out as a consequence

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #isaac lahey #derek and isaac #anon #fluff

[slaybestieslay946]

uhhh you asked for requests SO luke x fem reader where she joins him with kronos pls😓🙏

thank you for ur request, sorry it took kind of a long time to get to it! i took it in kind of a dark/tragic direction, but hope you enjoy anyway!

Revenge, or Justice?

MASTERLIST

word count: 2100

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader

warnings: kind of manipulative behaviour? they're not good people yall!!

a/n: decided to step out of my delusion for five minutes and confront the fact that Luke Castellan is not my perfect little princess :((

I

You understood Luke Castellan, in ways no one else did. 

Around camp, he had always been the golden boy, charming, talented, kind. But you could see through him, and his act. 

As a daughter of Nemesis, you could practically smell the need for revenge. Every time you saw him, it was like a flashing beacon. The twitch of his face each time someone mentioned his quest, or he caught a glimpse of that scar in the mirror. 

The way he tossed and turned in his sleep, waking up from nightmares to stare at the ceiling angrily. 

It was so obvious to you, and you always wondered how no one else saw it. 

For years, you hardly interacted. Your worlds would never collide, even if you understood him better than most people. He probably didn’t even realise you knew his secrets. That was until he approached you up front, a few days after your 18th birthday. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He said as he strode up to your table, greeting you like you were old friends. Which you probably should be, considering you’d shared a cabin together for the past 5 years. 

“Oh, hi.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, gesturing to the seat opposite you. 

You shrugged noncommittally. 

“So, what’s up?” You asked, pushing your food around your plate. 

“Nothing really.” He was obviously lying. 

“Why are you here then?”

“Do you not want me here?”

“I never said that. I was just wondering why you’re suddenly showing an interest when we’ve never spoken to each other before.” You explained calmly, you didn’t sound bitter about it, because you weren’t. 

“Hm, that’s true.” He muttered, resting his chin on his palm, “I suppose I just wanted to ask you what you think of it all.”

“All of what?”

“Camp. Life. Whatever.” 

“This place? It’s alright. I’ve been in worse places.”

“Hm, that’s true.” He mumbled, seeming slightly lost in thought, as if trying to decode your answer. 

“Luke, can you please just cut to the chase? What do you want to ask me?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, sorry for bothering you.” He said, and quickly stood up, walking away in such a hurry that he left his tray behind. 

That first interaction confirmed all of your suspicions, Luke Castellan was hiding something, and you were going to find out what that was. 

II

Eventually, you managed to get it out of him. You cornered him in the woods one day after the campfire, and demanded to know what he was plotting. Of course, you couldn’t have known that he would declare his hatred for the gods and how he wished they could be overthrown, but it wasn’t exactly surprising. You’d always known something was off about the boy, even when you couldn’t properly pinpoint it. 

“I just, I thought you’d understand, y’know-”

“‘Cause I’m the daughter of revenge?”

“Well, yes, but also-”

“No, you're right. I do understand. The gods have treated me like shit my whole life. They dump us minor children in your cabin, along with all the ones they’re too ashamed to claim. And all you major children, you're treated like you don’t exist, probably because there are too many of you to count.” You explained, looking directly at him. 

He returned your gaze, and in his eyes you saw the realisation that you knew him better than he ever thought. And that he knew you in return. 

“I always saw you looking at me, did you know?” He asked, not breaking eye contact. 

“That you were the same as me? I had a feeling. Ever since you came back from the quest you seemed different. Angrier.”

“Huh. I didn’t think I was so obvious.” 

“You weren’t. I just know a want for revenge when I see it. It’s in my blood.”

“You didn’t see anything then, because I don’t want revenge. I want justice.”

“Same difference, Castellan.”

III

It didn’t take long for you and Luke to begin making plans. He had later confessed to you that they all came from Kronos who had visited him in his dreams, insisting that the only way to overthrow the gods was to resurrect him.

You hadn’t been too happy about that. You didn’t like the gods, but that didn’t mean the titans would be any better. But Luke assured you he was only using Kronos, stringing him along to help achieve your joint goal. 

Did you believe him? You believed that was his intention, but whether he could actually execute that was a different matter entirely. 

Despite your slight reservations, you still chose to help Luke with his main plan, which was to steal the master bolt. 

Strategising wasn’t exactly your biggest strength, but luckily Luke had learnt a thing or two from Annabeth, and he was able to formulate the plot to steal Zeus’ bolt during the winter solstice. It was something which suited him, being the son of thieves. 

Meanwhile, it seemed your main role was to be his emotional support. You weren’t overly thrilled about it, but if it helped to achieve your end goal, you could deal with it. 

Soon you realised just how necessary you were to Luke’s plan. He would’ve certainly cracked by now if you weren’t there to reassure him that what he was doing was right. As much as he seemed solid in his convictions, you could tell that without Kronos nudging him, he would never have acted on any of them. 

Although, if it weren’t for Luke, you wouldn’t have either. 

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He would ask as you went over the plan once again, desperate for some kind of validation. 

“Yes. I trust you a lot. You can do this.” 

“And we’re right to do this?” 

“Yes. You want justice, remember?”

“Yeah. That’s what I want.”

He preferred it when you called it justice and not revenge. He was still so righteous in some ways. Old habits die hard. 

IV

Luke only truly proved his dedication to the plan when he was revealed as the thief. He abandoned his sister and betrayed all of camp for the cause, and as you both fell through the portal backbiter had created, your trust in him was cemented. 

You were in it for the long haul now, there was no going back. And as sad as you were to see Annabeth’s poor little face, you were more disappointed that she hadn’t understood. You’d thought she was a smart girl, so how could she not see that what you and Luke were doing was right?

The next few months were rough, and it took you back to the old days when you were alone and on the run. Except this time you had someone beside you each step of the way. During that time was when you stopped seeing Luke as merely an ally that you tolerated, and more of a friend you trusted. 

He was strong and intelligent, and more firm about his convictions than ever before. And each day, your certainty that you made the right choice grew and grew. You hoped your mother was proud. 

Luke was right. You were fighting for justice. Justice for the minor gods and their children who were constantly overlooked. 

But equally you understood a large part of your decision to go against the gods had been about selfish revenge. And you were ok with that. Revenge was your thing, it always had been. 

V

Over time, your feelings for Luke continued to grow, and you could tell he felt the same way. You’d always been able to read him like a book, and you didn’t know if that was because you were good with people, or because he laid his soul bare to you. 

You hoped it was the latter, and as he hugged you to his side during rough nights on the Princess Andromeda, you knew all your hopes had come true. 

But you also knew that any ‘love’ was just a footnote in your stories. You were both much more focused on your goals. 

This time, it was ‘your’ plan that was put into practice. Kronos wanted to revive Thalia, to put another demigod into play that could fulfil the prophecy. But it was your idea to poison the tree and allow the campers to retrieve the golden fleece for you. 

After all, you knew every demigod wanted glory, to appease their parents. What better way to goad them into doing your dirty work than with the promise of a great quest?

You were pleased to finally have a proper role in the planning, and you realised that this was your greatest strength, understanding people. 

After all, it was what had led you to Luke, and now what allowed you to aid Kronos, and it worked. You were one step closer to realising your dream. 

XI

Luke had been distant ever since he found out Thalia was alive again. He suddenly seemed conflicted, torn between past and present. 

You had always thought it would be Annabeth that came between him and his goal, but it seemed Thalia was the real problem. 

He was determined to recruit her too, insisting that she’d fit in perfectly, and that she was certain to see things his way. You weren’t so sure. In your eyes, Thalia would only serve as a distraction for Luke, something to pull him away from his work. And something to pull him away from you. 

You’d always thought that it would be just you and him. That you needed each other, in a way that went deeper than a silly teen romance. You understood him, you always had. When you looked into his eyes, you saw yourself, your ideals, your future, reflected back at you. And you thought it was the same for him. 

But apparently not, apparently you didn’t know him best. She did. 

“Are you sure you want to recruit her, Luke? What if something happens?”

“Like what?” He asked, his voice derisive and mocking.

“Oh, I don’t know, her saying no and then running you through?” 

“She won’t say no.” He said firmly, brushing you off once more. 

So when you heard Luke was injured, your immediate thought was that Thalia had run him through. And, of course, you were right.

Ethan, your half-brother, had brought him to you, back to the Princess Andromeda, and as twisted as it was, the first thing you wanted to say was I told you so. 

That was of course, until you saw his broken body in the infirmary, and all thoughts of anger were forgotten. 

“Oh, god, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay.” You cried, rushing over to him, and crouching beside his bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll survive. Just please don’t say ‘I told you so’ yet.”

“Okay soldier,” You responded, your voice so choked with emotion that you couldn’t help but let the term of endearment slip out.

“Do you-” He paused to take in a deep breath, his body shaking as he did so, “Do you still trust me?” 

You nodded furiously. 

“You’ll be with me till the end, won’t you?”

“Of course I will Luke. Till the very end.”

VII

You wonder if you knew then just how it would end. Possibly you did. You were both doomed from the moment he sat down at your table. 

But you kept your promise to him. You stayed with him until the end, you survived through all those months of watching him change from the boy you trusted into the man you feared. 

You stood by and watched as he grew cruel to everyone around him. Normally you were the exception, but you weren’t entirely immune to his scathing words and glances. 

You sat by his body as he bled out, the golden blood of a titan shifting into the red blood of a mortal. And you didn’t resist as you too were taken. 

Sometimes you wondered what your relationship would be like in a world without gods. Or at least one where they cared about their children. 

Would you have even met? Would you care for each other without that common thread of anger running between you? You hoped so. You hoped that your twisted relationship was just a product of circumstance, and that the feelings were real. You hoped that they could have formed without the codependency and the paranoia. 

But the truth was you were from different worlds, tied together by your goals, so desperate to achieve justice. Or revenge. 

And the real tragedy was not your failed love story, but the fact that even after so much sacrifice, you still couldn’t achieve what you wanted. 

A world where you didn’t need to be an archangel of revenge at the age of 18. A world where you could simply live. 

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #pjo #writing #fanfic #angst #not looking good #betrayal

[pilot-boi]

god now i’m just imagining Blake suddenly realizing and saying “you knew you had to drink the poison”

And Jaune just isn’t able to meet anyone’s eyes

The five sit around a campfire scrounged together from dead brush in an alcove protected from the desert wind. Their conversation is slow, comforting, filled with hushed reassurances and rueful laughter.

With the benefit of distance, of being free, talk eventually turns to Jaune’s missing years. Simple curiousity, simple questions.

He doesn’t answer everything, but every word he says seems to draw some invisible hurt from a wound left festering for too long.

It’s Blake that brings it up.

Of course she is. She was the one to realize they were in a fairytale, the one who reminded them all how to play along with the fantasy while keeping their sanity. Their resident bookworm.

Of course she’s the one who realizes that their friend knew going in that he was probably going to die before the end of “the story.”

“Jaune?” Blake’s voice is quiet, but calm as a pool of water. “You knew, didn’t you?” Weiss can see how her amber eyes narrow, the agitated flick of her ears, but none of her distress is betrayed in her voice.

Which is just as well, because Jaune doesn’t meet any of their eyes, he just watches the fire. The white locks in his hair are stark against the rest, and not for the first time Weiss wonders if they’re a result of age or stress or something worse.

“Not right away,” he replies. And is that better or worse? That it took a little while for him to realize that he’d die before the story’s end, and he still kept to the script? “Before we reached the Red King.”

“Were you… Did you…” Weiss isn’t sure what she wants to ask, or if she even wants an answer. Were you scared? Did you know when it would happen? Were you ready? Did you want it to happen?

“I had to follow the story,” he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion. Aged beyond his years, and yet still as young as any of them. “I had… It was my role. I couldn’t- I had to-”

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead,” Ruby says hollowly. “Would you have done it for me?” Jaune’s head shoots up, fast as a bullet, his face a mask as hard as the metal of his helmet.

Blue eyes aged beyond the years of the face they rest in meet silver eyes haunted by death and rebirth. The tension in the air is taut as a bow string, as the two leaders seem to communicate something only they understand.

A chunk of ice the size of her fallen home drops into Weiss’s stomach. The poison. The tea.

If Jaune had been there in time, would he have even hesitated to drink the tea for Ruby? Finally fulfilling his fairytale role? Finally doing something “right?”

Weiss is quite sure that would’ve only ended with BOTH leaders on the verge of ascension, instead of one. Because if Ruby had lost another friend, Weiss is certain that it would’ve pushed her over an edge she would never have returned from.

The desert wind fills the silence.

Jaune’s gaze falls back to the fire. “After the Herbalist, I was desperate to get the story back on track. I would’ve done anything to fix what I broke.”

“Even die?” Yang’s voice is steady as stone, but her hand is shaking in Blake’s grasp.

There are tears dripping down his face. He never processed this, Weiss realizes. He never processed anything, stuck as he was as the only thing changing in a world where everything stayed the same.

“I just wanted to do something right.” His voice sounds like he dropped it on the floor, it shattered, and he kept using it anyway. Cracky in that way it used to in Beacon. Too old and too young.

“I was the Rusted Knight, a paragon of virtue and glory, but I was messing it all up.” As he speaks, his voice gets more frantic, more hitched with tears. “We were at the end, there was no more story left. There was only one thing I could do to make sure they got their happy ending. And- And I-”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” Ruby interrupts, her voice choking with tears. I hate that it happened, that she poisoned you, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.” And again, it’s his fellow leader’s voice that draws Jaune out of himself.

But this time he looks like Jaune, all wide eyes and soft edges, not the metal of the Rusted Knight he was protecting himself with before. And Ruby looks like Ruby, older and wiser but with a spark of hope in her teary eyes that Weiss didn’t realize has been missing until they all almost lost it forever.

Ruby stands and walks around the fire, her boots making furrows in the sand, and pulls him into a hug. Jaune blinks, half afraid, half confused.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Weiss barely hears Ruby murmur this over the crackle of the flames, and whether she’s talking about Penny or Alyx or Pyrrha or Atlas or any number of things that both leaders have blamed themselves for over the years, Weiss doesn’t know.

But what she does know is that when Jaune chokes out a sob and buries his face in Ruby’s hair, and Ruby drops to her knees clings to her best friend like he’s the only thing anchoring her to Remnant, something slots back into place in the universe. Something that fractured almost beyond repair on the shore of a razed village of paper stars.

Jaune’s hair is streaked with white, Ruby’s whole body is shaking with sobs, and Jaune is whispering apologies that Ruby is meeting with her own. But they’re both still here. It feels like healing, or the very start of it.

And maybe Jaune would have drunk the poison for Alyx, but he didn’t get to. And maybe Jaune would have drink the tea for Ruby, but he didn’t get to. The world was full of what-ifs, gods the Ever After probably used as them as damn building blocks.

But what matters is that he didn’t, and that he would never have to.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #mine #asks #my writing #ethans express #healing rust au

[luveline]

jade,,,, what about eddie and reader finally getting to go on a date alone and then roan gets sick so they take care of her

omg yes !! single dad eddie finally gets a proper date, but poor roan has other ideas (or her germs do) tw sickness ♡ fem!reader

Eddie realises most people would be excited to go on a date without their kid.

He likes you so much — to the point of a headache, sometimes. He isn't worried about how you'll be, he's worried about himself. He's worried that, without his daughter there between you, there won't be much left to look at. Eddie hopes that he's a good dad, and if he isn't his attempts are at the very least endearing (or entertaining).

Without Roan to look after, he's not sure there's much of him that you'll like. That you'll work together without her.

It's an agonising thought. It has him scowling the entire day, to Wayne's amusement, who shakes him by the shoulders an hour before his shift ends and says, "Son, you best go home. S'gonna take an hour to scrub the wrinkles from your forehead."

"You'll cover for me?" he asks.

"No, I raised you for the better part of my life to abandon you to your own defenses now, Eddie. Get lost."

He rushes home. Odd, to do so without Roan. To shower by himself without Roan finding a hundred different reasons to let herself into the bathroom. To get dressed without her sitting in the middle of his bed criticising his choices.

Not blue, daddy. Too sad.

Eddie's hardly a man with an abundance of evening wear. He shrugs on a pair of dark corduroys, the fashion and not to his taste, and a boxy sweatshirt that shows too much skin if he lifts his arms. He decides not to lift his arms. Then he panics about lifting his arms, and if you'll care if he does, and he's still worrying about it when he gets in the car.

By the time he's idling outside your house his worries have changed to Roan. Around now Wayne will be picking her up, which she already knows is happening and isn't very happy about because she knows exactly why Eddie isn't picking her up himself. He assumes that's why she'd been so fussy this morning, had barely touched her breakfast. Or maybe...

Three knocks against the window startle him.

Your laugh floats in as he opens it, a pitying, sorry thing. "Eddie, I'm so sorry! I wasn't trying to scare you, I swear."

You're breathless with laughter and stunningly fresh-faced, leaning toward his window with a smile.

"It's okay," he says, "I'll get you back, though."

You make a sweet noise, an Is that so?

"Get in, chickadee. Places to go, people to see."

"Really?" You walk around the hood in your soft clothes and he watches each step with a dawning sense of awe, worse when you climb in the front seat and say, "Hi, handsome," while leaning across the console.

You kiss his cheek and leave behind both the shape of your lips in balm over the skin and the lingering stick of your pretty perfume.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

Where indeed. Eddie refuses to answer, struggling to bite back a smug smile for the few minutes it takes to get there. You gasp as you arrive, your favourite restaurant a flickering, neon beacon among its fellow greasy competitors.

Your pleasure is obvious and infectious. It buffets you all the way to the reservation, where you look down at your menu with your foot tapping against the floor in excitement. Eddie nudges your leg with his shoe carefully and you take it for something else, a game of footsie. Your smile nears amorous. Eddie feels his heart like a buzzing amp in his chest, all electricity, all loud.

You chatter through ordering and you giggle through your entrée, slinking down in your chair to rub the length of your shoe across his thigh. He grabs your foot and tugs, and you both burst into laughter as you almost topple to the floor.

He beams at you and thinks, Oh, thank fuck. We work. We work.

He's listening to you talk about Lord of the Rings of all things and wondering when it's okay to kiss you silly — "I hope you know I'm only suffering through this mega marathon for you, Eddie," — when somebody calls out, "Phone for Munson?"

It's like ice being tipped down the back of his shirt. He stands immediately and searches the room for the phone, a landline toward the front of the restaurant by the desk. He'd told Wayne exactly where he'd be tonight and made sure the place had a public phone because though he trusts Wayne to look after Roan completely, he still wants to know if something happens. As soon as something happens.

"Sorry, Eds. Think you might need to double back," his uncle says down the line.

Eddie clutches the receiver. He can hear Roan in the background, her slow sobs. "What happened?"

"She chucked up in the car. Then when we got home. Again when she was showering. You might need to buy some lysol, kid. And a new rug."

He sighs and rubs both eyebrows with the side of his hand, eyes closed. Your hand, warm and soft, lands against his shoulder.

"Alright. I'll come home."

"Sorry, kid. Wouldn't call, but she's begging for you."

"Uh-huh. No, it's okay. Think I should talk to her?"

"Just get home. Safe. No racing. And I'm not kidding about the lysol."

He hangs up, turning to you with a sorry already on the tip of his tongue.

Your thumb presses into his arm reassuringly. "Curfew?"

Some of his worry abates. "Sick bug."

"Oh no," you say sadly, "poor baby. She misses you so much she's made herself sick." While you're teasing, there's not a hint of cruelty in your voice.

He wants to smile at you. You deserve a great smile, a kiss, something to show how much he appreciates your unending light. He can't, he finds, because he feels like an idiot. A regretful, embarrassed idiot. He lifts his chin and meets your gaze. "I'm sorry," he murmurs sincerely, chasing down your arm to hold your hand.

"Don't be."

"I am. We never get any time alone."

You bite your lip for what could only be a half a second before you stop. "I don't really mind, Eddie. This is- You know I always have fun with you. More than that..." Your turn to look bashful. "Well, you know how I feel about you."

He doesn't. He doesn't have a clue in the world, but it's enough of a suggestion that he squeezes your hand, works his thumb over the back of it.

-

"Daddy!" Roan cheers, her little voice hoarse and wrought with tears.

It smells like sick. The windows have been opened and there's a sharp smell of bleach, but it definitely smells like sick. You follow behind Eddie, find who must be his Eddie's Uncle Wayne sitting on the sofa with a tiny ball of sadness in his lap. Said ball unfurls, arms already outstretched for her dad.

Wayne gets up with a groan and creak. He's a tall but lean man quite like his nephew, and he settles you with a similar sort of smile as he approaches.

"Hi. You gotta be Y/N."

"That's me. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Munson," you say, nervous but trying to hide it.

"Just Wayne, kid."

Piercing laughter. You and Wayne both turn to watch Roan's happy giggling as Eddie heaves her up high to blow a raspberry in her neck before cuddling her.

"My girl," he says, adoring, pitying, a mixture of things as he pats her back, "what happened? Didn't eat too much at snack time, did you?"

"My tummy was hurting," she denies his accusation.

"At breakfast? Why didn't you say?"

She shrugs and hides her face in the curve of his neck. Their hair is so close in colour that you can't tell where hers ends and his begins.

Eddie sighs sympathetically and looks up over her head at you and his uncle. "Well, Uncle Wayne took great care of you. Do you want to give him a kiss before he goes home?"

She moans.

"Fine by me. Don't wanna chuck up over the pool table. Bye, hellspawn." Wayne laughs at his own joke and then squeezes your arm amicably. "Bye, sweetheart."

"Oh," you startle. He's already out the door and down the steps by the time you say, "Bye!"

"Don't worry about it. He never says a proper goodbye. And he has a sensitive stomach."

You turn back to Eddie and Roan with a huge smile. "He's really nice. But not as nice as you, lovely girl," you croon, almost tripping over yourself to meet them.

Roan doesn't fight your affection, but you're not very sure she wants it. She hides in her dad's hair and turns to look at you with a sluggish smile. You extend your hand. When neither Eddie nor Roan move to stop you, you stroke down her hot cheek with the back of your middle finger.

"I'm sorry I stole your daddy when you needed him," you whisper.

"It's okay," Roan croaks back.

"It is?"

She doesn't answer again. You take her gracious answer and stroke the damp hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. You want to ask her for a kiss because you desperately want to give her one. You hesitate.

Maybe you shouldn't overstep so much like this into famiy stuff.

You drop your hand and smile. It's not a great smile in your opinion, but it's one Eddie should be used to by now. Too earnest, awkward, genuine. You clamp your mouth shut and wince.

"And how terribly she fared without me," Eddie drawls, kiss kiss kissing over the stretch of her face and down to her neck, where he blows another raspberry.

She laughs again. She sounds sick as she is, but she's still Roan. Her laugh could turn a bad mood good after a single peel.

"Daddy," she mumbles, eyes slightly less bleary than before. "Better kiss."

He hums. "Guess I'm either gonna get sick or I'm not," he says, and kisses her.

Roan smiles and then turns to you with the same command. "Kiss."

"Sweetheart, I don't think she-"

"Yes, please," you say, anchoring yourself on Eddie's shoulder. You lean in, needle your face into the gap, and kiss her warm cheek.

"Good enough?" you ask her.

"No," she says, in that cheeky voice that really means Yes, but I want another one.

"What if you get sick?" Eddie asks as you deliver another kiss.

You tickle under Roan's chin and avoid his eye. "Guess you'll have to take care of me."

"If I get sick, too?"

"Then we'll all be sick," you say simply.

He kisses the top of your head. "As dogs," he agrees.

You think his looking after you wouldn't be such a bad thing.

-

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie and roan

[peachesofteal]

The dead disco break up Pregnancy au got me in my feels all day. Literally all day.

And all I can think about is when the guys get home? Find her not at the apartment and they’re both like, “can’t blame her, I get it” and are over come with guilt. Their own relationship getting a little rocky. Maybe Johnny gets frustrated more easily with Simon. Simon withdrawals a little more into himself bc that’s how he handles pain and grief. But they make it through. They always do. Until they find out about darling and the baby. However that happens, be it in a grocery store or whatever. But Simon comes from a very traumatized childhood. He sees the baby and just knows. That’s their kid. And is overcome with so much grief bc now he’s no worse that his dad is he? What’s worse than someone that’s there and beats you? Someone that’s not there at all. Not knowing. And he has always promised himself he’d never be like his father, but than this is just too close to comfort.

I imagine he surprises not only himself but Johnny and darling the most when he ends up doing something drastic. There were no words he had to defend himself or Johnny. He’d be mature. Whatever it takes, whatever darling needed just let him be in his child’s life, let him be in your life, let him do better. Don’t LET HIM HAVE THIS WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS.

Darling would have more whiplash than Johnny but even Johnny is taken back by the lengths Simon would go? (Getting out the military? Domestic security and law enforcement jobs so he can be home? Idk?) but Simon just comes out of no where, with “I’m here. I’m not going no where. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.” Bc he does love darling and he does love Johnny, but that kid? He’d move heaven and hell for that kid. It was Ryan Reynolds who was like “I love my wife, love her more than anything. Then we had our baby girls and realized I would use my wife as a human shield to protect my kids” As a joke of course but it’s to that extent. Simons 2 priority’s become taking care of that child and mending the relationship between the three of them, not bc he loves them (he totally does, and his devotion to his partners is infallible) BUT BECAUSE that kid needs to know what healthy relationships are based out of love and communication not grief and missed social cues and resentment.

Simon takes fatherhood seriously. Most serious job there is. And he’s not going to let darling’s (low key selfish) feelings of betrayal and self deprecation keep him from taking care of his child and said mother of that child.

———

Johnny however? He’s the one that’s hesitant surprisingly. He’s hurt. Beyond hurt that you wouldn’t tell them something like this. It’s the adult thing to at least say something right? Even if they did leave. This is more than them now. And he goes along with Simons initiative to fix all of this but Johnny needs some serious reassurance and maybe an outlet for all this anger and hurt he has. And there’s so much going on that it’s easy for Simon and darling to kinda miss that a little bit,

Until Johnny doesn’t want to hold the baby. Says he’s scared he’d drop it. But Simon knows better.

Johnny feels lost.

Darling feels lost.

Simon is their beacon of light in the darkness.

It comes down to the sexiest night known to human existence, and a lot of crying and confessions while fucking all those emotions out. Simon has always known how to get these two to let down their walls. Breakfast is for figuring out detail’s schedules ect. But that night? That was them fixing it. Letting go and moving forward. In the sexiest. Way. Possible.

^look what you’ve done to me. I’m serving alcohol at a bar thinking about these characters, THE DISTRACTION IS REAL AND I NEED MORE.

You’re fantastic. I hate you for doing this to my brain. Love ya!

Um… hi? Hello? Come back. Let’s talk about this more, let’s break it down. I am obsessed with this. I love this. 🩵🩵

Simon goes into protective overdrive the second he see’s you. Not sure how or when or where it happens, but Bee is not even two months old, and he doesn’t even need to ask you. She’s so little, cocooned in a linen wrap, cradled to your chest, and he already knows. How could that baby be anyone’s but their own?

He does exactly as you’ve described, drops everything and retires early. Price and Johnny always thought he’d make captain soon, but none of that matters now. His military aspirations have meant less and less every year since he met Johnny, and meeting you only sped his career’s ultimate demise along.

He’s not going to let the cycle repeat. He’s not going to let his child grow up and feel like they’ve been abandoned by him. He’s not going to let Bee grow up without him being there. Loving her. Supporting her. He won’t be his father. He refuses.

You agree to let them see her, and agree to let them take her for nights or days if they’d like. But you won’t let them in. Won’t do much more than co parent with them, won’t engage in anything real with them, won’t give them a single inch. You stonewall them, block them out, give them excuses and refusals at every turn. Sure, they can be in their daughter’s life… but they can’t be in yours.

While Bee is important, you are too. He wouldn’t use you as a shield to save her, he’d save you both. There’s no option. No choice. You’re the love of their lives, the now mother of his child. He’d lay down and die for you.

But none of that matters. You won’t let them in.

It drives Simon insane. He’s understanding, and mature about it, and patient (compared to Johnny, who’s running hot over it… frustrated, agitated, consistently visibly upset, holding onto his anger and resentment over the fact you never came forward and even told them about Bee. Johnny can’t get over that you went through everything alone… can’t understand why you wouldn’t tell them, give them a chance to be there for you.. and it stings. It hurts him, so fucking much, and that hurt melds into anger, it burns into his heart and twists his feelings until they’re a jumbled mess.) but he can’t seem to make you understand that they love you, that they thought about you everyday when they were gone, that they mourned the end of the relationship. It’s not just about the baby, they were coming back for you no matter what. They knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they weren’t meant to live their lives without you. They made a mistake.

But… they fucking abandoned you. And now they come back, and see that you have a baby and just decide they want to be back in your life? No. Absolutely not. They didn’t want you anymore, before Bee… nothing has changed. You won’t let yourself fall back into their grasp, and you’re so adamant about that that you fight them nearly at every turn. Can they take Bee? Sure. But “family trips” to the store? “Family trips” to the park? Not happening. You pack her diaper bag and kiss her goodbye, while Simon watches you with an intense scrutiny, eyes tracking your every step while he holds little Bee is his giant hand. He doesn’t miss a single thing, doesn’t miss the way your hands shake when you press a sweet kiss against her cheek, doesn’t miss the way your body moves sluggishly, like you’re exhausted, even after the nights they’ve had Bee, which means you should have gotten plenty of rest. Johnny just stands in the corner and stares at the floor, hands in his pockets during these exchanges, practically unwilling to engage with you in any way because he’s just so… upset with you, still. He’s better with Bee, loves her dearly, but can’t get past what he’s holding inside of himself, can’t get past how he feels so betrayed you, even though a part of him thinks he has no right to those feelings.

I love your last little bit - about the night Simon breaks you and Johnny apart and then puts you back together. There is something very similar/along those lines in the actual fic outline.

BUT ALSO… let’s imagine: They try to fix it. They try to get you to let them back in, to open up to them, to let them be there for you. As time goes on, Johnny changes, the red hot fire of anger that burns inside of him eventually goes out, lovingly smothered by Simon, and his resentment and feelings of betrayal all melt away. How could he ever have felt those things, when you were the one who was left all alone? Pregnant, with no way to contact them? He lets it all go, fully embracing parenting with you and Simon, trying to get back into your life, trying to love and support you from afar, any way they can. They start to notice a change in you… you seem a little happier, a little lighter on your feet, a little more relaxed and they think it might be working… that you finally might be growing more amenable about letting them in, about building back the relationship.

Until… they show up for Bee’s first birthday party, and there’s a man with his hand splayed on the small of you back in the backyard, holding you, tugging your body into his, while Bee shrieks and giggles on the blanket in the grass. There’s another man, watching their daughter, holding their darling girl close, while they stand in the doorway, shell shocked.

#peaches asks #disco baby au #ghost x soap x reader

[howlingday]

Have you ever feel that Jaune got to much focus? I mean he's called a main charater (for better or worse) in a show called RWBY. About Team RWBY. It's just looking at both sides as much as I like Jaune maybe their was or still is to much focus on him.

Hardly.

Tell me something. Did Sasuke get too much focus in a show called Naruto? Did Knuckles get too much attention in the show Sonic X? What about Harry Potter? One Punch Man? Hey Arnold?

The Jaune "getting too much focus because the show is called RWBY" is the saddest, weakest excuse ever uttered. Jaune is a main character, along with Ren and Nora, who, need I remind you all, got plenty of love and attention despite not being "Team RWBY"?

Now, does the FNDM give him too much attention? My second favorite tag on this hiellsite is "jaune arc," AFTER "rwby," agrees with this statement, and to be honest, I don't think that's a problem with the show's writing as much as it is with the audience's reception of him.

There being "too much focus" on Jaune is only in comparison to the weaker writing for the "main characters" because the show puts more effort into the action and the plot than into the development of the core cast of Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang.

Ruby has silver eyes and is supposed to be the hero who saves the world, but it wasn't until Volume 9 that she really got a solid win for her character.

Weiss comes back home in Volume 7 and her biggest character moment is when she's stopping her father's escape. Then... nothing.

Blake and Yang are by far the worst because their characters are now wholly reliant on each other. And before that, Yang's character was reliant on Ruby while Blake's character relied on the White Fang plot, which ended in Volume 5, and Adam, who died in Volume 6.

But what about Jaune's character? Well, let's see; Jaune was the loser everyman character who acted as the foil to the prodigal child of destiny that was Ruby Rose. His partner, Pyrrha "Invincible Girl" Nikos, takes him under her wing and trains him as her mentor. She then dies, leaving him to train and grow on his own despite his team being there, whereas Ruby loses her entire team and gets their help to accomplish reaching Mistral.

...Typing this out, yeah, I would say Jaune got more thought and effort put into his story and character development, but I don't think it's "too much". If anything, I'd say the issue is RWBY didn't get enough. All we got for them were flashy moves and kicks and bruises, but it's all shallow, surface-level development. Looking back, I see RWBY as the same people as they were at Beacon, while Jaune has completely changed since his initial appearance.

And again, that's not Jaune getting too much attention. It's just RWBY never really grew up right.

#rwby #jaune arc #my thoughts #character analysis #my critique #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

[yuri-is-online]

Hello Yuri!! Congrats on 500 followers!! You deserve it, your writing is amazing and makes me so happy whenever you post something new! (・∀・)

If it’s alright, could I request Ace Trappola, Ruggie Bucchi and Cater Diamond with prompt four if that’s okay? About the reader meeting someone at the ball and ranting to the boys about them.

Thank you so much in advance, and congratulations again!! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually, wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello Rhea! It's always a pleasure to see you in my notifications, though you did give me a bit of whiplash with how fast this request came in (;ﾞ°´ω°´) It makes me very happy to hear I have managed to make you happy, I hope you like this post too. Also thank you very much for the kind words, they made me feel much better.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, I know the prompt says "quiet" but these three are sort of the chatty type so it's more like dodging the question (sorry), the other event requests can be found on my masterlist here. There's a movie reference hidden here (kind of) that if someone gets I'll probably scream idk.

Ace

There is a god in some sort of heaven and he hates Ace Trappola. Well maybe not a god, maybe it's just Riddle, and he certainly doesn't hate him, Ace is just being dramatic. But there has to be some sort of rule Riddle is breaking here, seriously what beacon of morals and etiquette sits pretending to sip tea while obviously eve's dropping on what should be a terribly private conversation. It's a nightmare made substantially worse by just how long he has been wanting to have this talk.

"Honestly I wasn't expecting to have so much fun, I thought Crowley was just going to put on a cheap tacky formal, not an actual ball with proper costumes." You feel light headed with joy for a change, technically half of the things you've experienced in this world you never would have in yours but a real, fancy Masquerade somehow felt more surreal than the overblots or flying brooms. Maybe it was because you had seen pictures of real ball costumes and masks that made it feel more tangible, like this was something you really were meant to be a part of.

"The costuming was indeed very impressive." Riddle swirls his cup just gently enough to avoid spilling his precious tea whilst making sure to pour Ace's all over the Heartslabyul lounge. "I was surprised at how impossible it was to tell who was who."

"I know! That's the whole problem." You practically jump up from the couch, before remembering yourself and settling down again. Ace notices you still move subconsciously closer to him, even if your silly head doesn't know just who he is. Or would it be was?

"Is it really?" Ace really wishes you weren't so used to ignoring his whining. "The entire point of a Masquerade is to be anonymous, isn't that why you and Deuce thought it was 'romantic.'" He had wanted to have this talk in Ramshackle where it was guaranteed to be private- scratch that he wanted to have it last night while he was trying to imagine what your eyes looked like under your mask. What they would look like if he moved his aside and just said what he was trying to for once instead of flirting more with the subtext than you.

"Well yeah I guess." You mumble. Your chest has been tied up in funny knots and Ace's unenthusiastic tone isn't helping with the pain. "But it's driving me insane to think I could have met my soul mate and all I know about him is that he makes a really attractive clown." Riddle chokes, tea cup clanking onto it's saucer as he politely tries to pass off his laugh as a cough. "Well not just that..." you mumble, closing your eyes to conjure up the memory of the jester who had produced a rose from behind your ear and insisted on leaving it there for luck.

"What sort of luck?" He held onto the rose just a second too long for your poor heart to bear, you swear he could feel it if he pressed his fingers that much closer to your pulse point.

"Well mine of course, how else am I supposed to find you when this is over." It's odd not to see the man's lips, your heart tells you it suspects he's smiling but it won't confirm it.

"That's not luck!" You laugh. "That's cheating!" He shrugs, as if to say he knows, that's the whole point. As if to say it's worth it to break the rules where you're concerned. It's daring, the way he holds you as you dance, the way your heart is screaming for you to just-

"I should have kissed him." You groan, remembering how Grim had charged in between you and your date screaming about how he'd never approve or something dumb like that. Just who did he think he was anyway?

"Well then why don't you!" Ace cringes as he says it, neck beet red as you go to sass him back before the oddly serious nature of his tone and the implication of his syntax force you to stop. Riddle's exit barely registers as you stare each other down, Ace from the corner of his eye and you with the full force you can gather.

"Would you have let me?" You whisper. A familiar touch lights just behind your ear, pressing in this time to trace the speed of your heartbeat.

"Only one way to find out, prefect." You expect him to run. Make some sort of joke about how he was pranking you, or say kissing before marriage being against the rules. But he doesn't. He waits, perhaps in the way he has been since the first night he showed up at Ramshackle, collared and crabby, just waiting for you to close the gap.

And embrace you as you fall.

Ruggie

Ramshackle was closer to the main castle than Savanaclaw. That was the excuse Ruggie had used to get you to agree to let him crash there, in his mind anyway. Really, all he had needed to do was ask, but you know that's not exactly how he works. Your relationship has always been a series of scratches, offers of give and take that tend to be minor but offer just enough of a technicality for true feelings to remain hidden just out of sight. That doesn't change how surreal it is to see him here so late, or the sharp contrast between all the stiff collars and plaster faces you both had been drowning in just a moment ago and the worn gym clothes you both wear for pajamas.

"Man I'm beat." Ruggie says, sinking into the couch. You aren't in much better shape, if he wasn't taking up a part of it you would be sprawled face down across the length the couch. Instead, you satisfy yourself with curling up into the far corner. You have a dreamy smile on your face, content like how he usually looks when he eats a large meal, or when he thinks you aren't looking.

"I think I found your soul mate hanging around the buffet tables tonight." You lazily tease, tracing nonsensical shapes on the floor to amuse the nervous energy from your earlier encounter.

"Oh yeah?" Ruggie sounds vaguely intrigued, but he doesn't move much. If anything he settles his neck more firmly into the sofa back, eyes intentionally trained on the ceiling. "What makes you say that?"

"He was stealing all the apple fritters." You say, dreamy smile widening when Ruggie snorts. "Too bad I intend on stealing him from you."

"Do you now." He murmurs, head tilting back down into his palm. He rests his elbow on his knee, but he doesn't look at you, not immediately. Your well into your little rant before he does.

"Well at first I was just going to steal the food-" that was the whole reason he had wanted to stay here, the two of you had hatched a plan weeks ago to smuggle in some containers and smuggle out as much food from the banquet hall as possible and it just made more sense to take it to Ramshackle "but he offered to give it to me so long as I danced with him." There is a container of said fritters in between you both, sticky with caramelized sugar and a good reminder of just how expensive the Masquerade Ball must have been to throw. It's odd to have food last so long in Ramshackle, odder still with Ruggie so close.

"Nice try." You said. "But you won't trick me like that. My friend trained me well and I need to bring those back to him."

"Are you sure about that?" The man's voice is muffled by his mask, white plaster forming three faces obscuring any meaningful detail of his real looks. He's radiant, something about the way he's managing to thread the needle through the crowd despite his exaggerated mask is holding all your attention despite Ruggie's warnings. You're supposed to be competing to see who would bring the most food home, but instead you're dancing in the arms of someone else, laughing as he kisses your hand when he dips you in tune with the song. "Your friend is missing out, I have the best tasting thing in the ballroom right here."

"I'm sorry I was so distracted I only managed to snag a couple things. Did you get anything good?" You roll out of the corner closer to the center, just out of his reach but oh so obtainable.

"Nope~" he says, letting the word pop and looking away with more shame than you have seen on his face... ever now that you think about it. "I uhh. I may have... also.. gotten distracted." Both of you look at the single container of apple fritters, suddenly very much aware that neither of you actually brought anything else back to your dorm.

"Laugh with me." You try to protest but Ruggie has both your fingers up to your lips, his trademark smirk looks good on you, he wishes he could take a picture. "Embarrassed prefect? You shouldn't be so worried, I told you how I felt didn't I?"

"But you don't know how I taste!" You manage to wail and he finally cracks, shaking with laughter and letting you curl your blanket around you in a ball of embarrement. You stay like that for a good long while, trying to beat down the smile that twitches at the corner of your mouth until Ruggie reaches over to unwrap you casing and pull your head into his lap.

"Well then, maybe you should let me test you." He's wrong you think as your lips meet, Ruggie has got to taste much sweeter.

Cater

"Well someone looks like they had fun last night~" Cater says and you giggle in response. He allows himself to pause before he continues, Cater really hates the sound of his own voice. How anyone can stand him is beyond him, and he knows the conversation he's about to have has a pretty good chance- no.

It's going to destroy the carefully built illusion he's woven around your "friendship" even if you react positively. Losing you would be painful, but keeping you in the dark would be even worse. He has to play this smart, play you correctly so he can try and keep your eyes with him even if they only look at the superficial face he wears.

Yes, Cater has to play you carefully, but he is off to a bad start. You know before he sits down that something is wrong, it's written all over his face sewn into his unwashed hair and dark circles under his eyes.

"I want to say 'you too' but honestly you look exhausted Cater, you sure you want to be awake right now?" You don't want to press him in case that makes him run, but you also know Cater a bit better than he wants to acknowledge. You don't really think the bit of yourself you have to share will help soothe him, but he goes along with his script anyway.

"Seriously, you worry too much!" He can't say about me because he wants your worries, and he knows that denial would crack his mask. "Besides I've just been dying to hear about the dance, you seemed really excited to go!" There's a sparkle in your eyes, a flush to your cheeks that he desperately wishes he had put there.

"It went well." That’s all you can bring yourself to say as your hands go to fiddle absent mindedly with the sleeves of your blazer.

"That's good?" He tries to poke at the topic but you don't go further. "Or was is it not good and you just don't want to think about it?"

"No! No it's just. I met someone. Or I think I did anyway." Cater blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just for luck because he knows, or at least he thinks he knows, that he was the only one with you all night. What you're saying just can't be right, there's no way you didn't know it was him all night. "He was just so easy to talk to! I completely lost track of time and didn't meet up with anyone else..." Your little embarrassed smile confirms it, you didn't know. He laughs.

"Sorry," he doesn't mean that "you're just too cute Yuu." He pulls his phone from his pocket as you desperately stutter.

"Look I'm really sorry I know I said I'd look for you, Riddle, and Trey but I was just... I don't know, moonstruck?" He laughs more, practically chokes as he quickly types an apology to Trey and savors your embarrassment just a moment longer.

"Don't you mean starstruck?" He teases and you suddenly find a bit of your fight back and fiercely shake your head.

"No way! That's for famous people. Moonstruck is for when you're overcome with ridiculous love for someone even if you don't know them." You pout and Cater looks at his phone, not to do anything really just to center himself and his thoughts. He has a choice to make, and he doesn't know where either path will go.

"Are you alright?" Cater should have known you would find him, there should be something scary with how unconsciously in tune with him you are. He doesn't say anything, but that doesn't seem to discourage you. You settle yourself next to him, sitting quietly keeping him company until he's ready to speak.

"It's all just a bit too much." He gestures vaguely at the room, uncertain why he's decided to speak about this now and not run from it. "Everyone's here wearing masks and hiding themselves like it's a fun thing to do."

"It can be." You say calmly. "But always dressing like this would be a lot." You look over the crowd with the stranger, the conversation lulls, and you try to examine the man's costume for a hint of what might be best to say. "You know," your voice is uncertain, but the words that come to you aren't ones you don't believe in, "everyone wears a mask sometimes, especially when they're afraid or lonely." The man says nothing, but something about the way he sits suggests you still have his attention. "You're not obligated to remove those masks for anyone, it has to be done when you are ready to accept the consequences of how other people will see you."

Cater isn't ready. He somehow doubts he ever will be. He wishes there was a way to confess this with a guarantee that the consequences won't burn him.

"You weren't the only one moonstruck." You look hopeful almost, exactly like you did when you'd pulled him from his corner to dance. Exactly the same as when you had when he had teasingly pulled your mask aside to kiss you, the same cute look he would never be sorry to see on your face. "Say are you busy prefect? I think there's something I need to tell you."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #cater diamond x reader #500 followers celebration #side note #but i think riddle would be very pro aceyuu #if for no other reason than it gives him something to hold over ace's head #“follow the rules or I'm taking away your prefect time :/”

[screaminglygay]

Rough day

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you had a shitty day, wanda is there to help you.

warnings: swearing a bit, not proofread

word count: 1.4k

an: i was feeling down, so here is some fluffy wanda

!MDNI!

It was a rough day; you knew it from the morning when your bed was empty, and your lovely girlfriend wasn’t there. Without Wanda by your side to warm your bed and your heart, today was bound to be a struggle, but you were determined not to let it break you. But oh boy you were put back into reality right away. 

And to make matters worse, your day only went downhill from there. First, as you were getting ready for school, you spilled your coffee on the counter, instantly jolting you awake. To make matters even worse, you realized you were running late, and had to sprint outside without a jacket or umbrella, and of course, the weather decided to remind you of its ever-present cruelty, opening up the heavens with a downpour. It was definitely not your day, but you just had to hold it together somehow. 

By the time you walk through your apartment, you are exhausted. You are hungry, thirsty, and shivering from the cold, and all you want to do is slip into the warm embrace of your bed, but not before a hot meal and a long, hot shower. 

As you wearily enter your apartment, the scent of a delicious meal floats through the air, a comforting reminder that Wanda is back home and cooking dinner. The aroma fills your senses, offering a brief respite from the miserable day you had so far. The familiar scent, a mix of spices and warmth, wraps around you like a soothing embrace, momentarily lifting your spirits. 

You peel off your coat and leave it by the door, feeling the chills running down your back, you move further into the apartment. Wanda's presence is like a beacon of light in the darkness of your day, and the anticipation of a warm meal and a hot shower is your lifeline. 

You head towards the kitchen, where Wanda is busy at the stove, her back facing you as she works her culinary magic. The clinking of pots and pans, the sizzle of ingredients in the skillet, and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables fills the room. 

Seeing her there, pouring her love and care into the meal, should fill you with a sense of gratitude and relief, but today is different. The tension that is building throughout the day seems to intensify, and your frustration and sadness linger, despite the comforting aroma in the air. You know that no matter how terrible your day is, Wanda's presence and her unwavering support could make things better, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to shake. 

You can´t bring yourself to smile as you approach her, and although you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your chin on her shoulder, the gesture felt more like an act of seeking solace than a display of affection. The scent of the simmering dinner mixes with the natural scent of her hair did little to alleviate the storm of emotions within you.  

Wanda turns to you, her eyes fill with empathy and love, but as she gazes into your eyes, she senses something is terribly wrong. She places a tender kiss on your forehead before gently asking, "What's wrong, my love?" Her voice is soft, and she reaches out to cup your face with her warm hand. 

The weight of the day, the loneliness, and your unresolved emotions finally overcome you. Tears well up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying uncontrollably. The tears stream down your face, and you can´t hold back the emotions any longer. 

Wanda holds you close, her arms wraps around you in a comforting embrace. She whispers soothing words and assures you that it was okay to cry, that you were safe with her. As your sobs grow more intense, you feel a surge of panic rising within you, your chest tightening, and your breathing becoming erratic. 

Recognizing your distress, Wanda holds you even tighter, gently guiding you to sit down. As you cry and battle the panic attack, Wanda holds you close and whispers soothing words to reassure and comfort you. "Hold my hand, love. Squeeze it if it helps. I'm right here with you." Your girlfriend whispers. 

You cling to her hand, gripping it tightly, seeking the anchor she provides, "you're safe, my love. I promise." She whispers again. 

Her words were like a protective shield. "I'm right here, right beside you. Let it all out, my dear. You don't have to hold it in." 

Your cries continue, but you find solace in her presence, in the warmth of her embrace, and the security of her words. Wanda's unwavering support and love provides a sanctuary in your moment of vulnerability, and you know that you can survive any storm as long as she is by your side. 

After a while, your sobs subside, and Wanda continues to hold you gently, speaking in a soothing tone. “It's okay, my love. You are doing great. Just take slow, deep breaths. I'm here for you, always." 

You focus on your breathing, gradually regaining control and finding comfort in her words, "that's it. You are getting there. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you." 

Feeling more composed, you slowly nod in response to her words. 

 "Would you like a glass of water, dear?" 

You nod again, and Wanda gets up, to get you a glass of water. As she stands up you immediately grab her hand, “I´m not going anywhere, I´ll be right back, I promise.” 

After literally a minute Wanda comes back and hands the water to you, you take a few sips, feeling better already. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened today, or would you rather just relax for now?" She asks. 

You nod, indicating that you do want to talk about what had happened during your difficult day. Wanda listens as you recount the events, sharing your frustrations and sadness, and the details of the day weighing so heavily on your shoulders. 

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, my love. It sounds like an incredibly shitty day." 

You continue to speak, and as you did, you feel the weight of your emotions lifting. Wanda offers a comforting presence, her eyes filled with empathy and understanding. 

"I'm here for you, dear. I am glad you are sharing this with me. It's important to talk about what's bothering you." Wanda, seeing that you need a mood boost, decides to lighten the atmosphere with some good-natured teasing. 

And of course, Wanda is determined to see you smile. "Now, let me see the pretty smile of yours, malyshka." She says with a twinkle in her eye, using a term of endearment that made you blush slightly. 

You try to resist her charm and maintain a serious demeanor, but Wanda had a way of breaking through your defenses, every single time. "Oh, I see, you're playing hard to get, huh? Well, should I just do this?" With a mischievous grin, she launches a tickling attack, her nimble fingers dancing across your sides and making you squirm and laugh uncontrollably. 

 You can´t help but laugh, caught off guard by her playful assault. 

"There it is! That beautiful smile I adore so much,” keeping her eyes locked on yours. 

You pout, still half-pretending to be serious, but Wanda's teasing is impossible to resist. 

"Oh, come on, malyshka, don't be mad at me." She looks at you through eyelashes in a comical display of innocence. 

You can´t help but burst into laughter again, realizing that resisting Wanda's infectious playfulness is a futile endeavor. 

"That's my girl! So so so so pretty.” Wanda whispers into your ear. 

As the playful banter and laughter filled the room, your girlfriend can´t resist but let her affection show. She leans in, her eyes lock onto yours, and then her lips meet yours in a gentle, sweet kiss. 

The sensation of her soft lips against yours sent a warm and comforting feeling coursing through you. It is as if all the frustrations and sadness of the day are replaced by a comforting embrace of love and affection. 

You felt your cheeks warm as you pull back, blushing slightly, but Wanda's eyes were filled with tenderness and care, "you're so beautiful when you smile, malyshka.” 

You smile back at her. 

"No matter what happens, always remember that I'm here for you. Okay?” 

You nod. 

“I need words, malysh.” 

You nod again, but this time you whisper back, “I know. Yes.” 

#adele writes #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wlw #fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel universe #wanda maximoff fluff