#told him it was the octopus boy and he snorted

[righteousdelusions]

working on a proportion issue in my yaoi stick drawing and im trying to talk it out loud around my cousin

me: the problem is that Denji is too close to him and that's why the leg doesn't work

him: ohhhh. It's Denji?

me: ... yeah

him: mm. And who's the other one? Aki?

me: i know you'd think so, but no.

#im a known yaoi lover in my house ajsjsj #my mom told me to watch macvoy's Frankenstein because i was going to love it #specifically the scene where he helps daniel Radcliffe with his back hump ajsjsj #izzy.txt #told him it was the octopus boy and he snorted #btw he doesn't read the manga and has just watched the fight scenes on facebook #sjskdk

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie has never traveled much. Sure, he'd drive around in his van, sometimes visit Indy, but otherwise he's given up on all the touristy stuff even before he could experience it (as if - an absent mother and a criminal father don't exactly scream VACATION TIME). He finds it silly, all the magnets, postcards. As if one week somewhere else could make a difference.

Enter Steve Harrington, a very dedicated boyfriend with a no bullshit attitude and a payout from yet another government interdimensional (or cross-dimensional?) fuckup. Given how many times he's nearly died, he doesn't exactly feel like saving and investing into his future if it may never come. And so when Eddie's wounds heal, his quiet graduation passes and Hawkins isn't swarmed by monsters for a change, he doesn't ask, simply tells Eddie that his job search will have to wait for 2 weeks or so. He helps him pack a bag, winks at Wayne on his way out (seriously, were they conspiring against him all this time?!) and off to the airport they go.

Eddie has never flown anywhere and boy, is that an experience. After grasping Steve's hand tight enough for his knuckles to go white, he finally relaxes and watches the clouds in child-like awe. Steve is smiling at him from the middle seat, squeezes his hand sometimes. Of course he made sure Eddie would have the window seat. Of course he knows Eddie would find the experience magical.

One uneventful flight and slight migraine scare later, they land, Steve picks up their rented car and drives them both to a small house on the beach. Steve snorts when he sees the separate beds and pushes them together, dropping his own bag on the right mattress. And Eddie just stares, still in disbelief that this is happening, that the local freak and suspected Satanist somehow ended up on a beach vacation with white pillows, so soft it's almost ridiculous, a boyfriend kind (and hot, so goddamn hot!) beyond belief and gentle sound of the waves...

Eddie doesn't really have swimming trunks, Steve didn't really tell him what to pack except that it's going to be mostly warm, but when he tries to apologize to Steve, his boyfriend just laughs, digs in his perfectly organized bag and tosses something black at Eddie's head. When Eddie disentagles it from his face, he finds out it's a pair of trunks with small skulls on them. "Told you, baby," says Steve and presses a gentle kiss into Eddie's cheek. "You don't need to worry about anything this week."

And Eddie doesn't, for the first time in his life he feels absolutely free from everything. When he sees the ocean for the first time, he ends up doing a very undignified splat into the waves and soon finds out that the legends were true, the water is salty and god, it's disgusting. Steve gets them both cheap snorkel masks and they just float next to each other and observe the tiny creatures on the ocean floor. Steve often dives much deeper than Eddie would ever dare to go and brings up small treasures, shells and smooth pebbles. He insists Eddie should only pick the prettiest ones, but Eddie hoards them all. "If they're too heavy when we fly back, I'll just send my bag with you and walk to Hawkins on foot," he says and he might be joking. Might.

In the end, they come back to Hawkins, with Eddie's pale skin slightly red ("I told him he needed sunscreen but did he listen, Wayne? Of course not") and bags full of trinkets that quickly fill the shelves of Eddie and Wayne's new home. Wayne's mug collection grows yet again, he gives a quiet huff of laughter when the boys admit they had a competition to buy the ugliest mug possible, Eddie presents him with a disturbingly realistic seahorse mug and Steve produces a cartoon octopus mug with a sign "SEAS THE DAY". They both groan when Wayne declares it's a tie and proudly displays both.

And if Eddie sneaks to the kitchen during the night to decorate their fridge with a tacky magnet, well, who can blame him? Maybe he'll start a collection too.

#steddie #steddie drabble #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #stranger things drabble #stranger things #vacation #taking a break from the angst #for like 2 seconds

[oepionie]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR & THE UNWILLING DAMSEL IN DISTRESS. silver vanrouge

"And you don’t have to say anything now, of course, I just thought I owed you an explanation as to why i acted the way i did…”

Synopsis: Dragged into another one of Azul's contracts, you're forced to go on a date with some doe-eyed prince named Phillip and it seems that Silver has offered to serve as your bodyguard.

Character/s: Silver Vanrouge x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Reader wears Heels&Dress, Silver cries, Bodyguard! Silver, Prince Phillip, Hidden feelings, Confessions, Im just thirsting for Silver here tbh

Word Count: 1k+ | 🎸Event Masterlist

Nervously taking a sip of your drink, you smoothed out the wrinkles on your dress and attempted to act normal. Well, as normal as someone in your situation could be. After getting dragged into a contract by the one and only Azul Ashengrotto, you were made to meet up with a client of his.

The octopus needed valuable information from him and told you to "use your charms" on the boy.

Whatever that means...

Sighing, you glance over at the shadowy figure sitting a few tables away from you.

Azul was suprisingly generous enough to grant you some protection. Protection which came in the form of a bodyguard named Silver Vanrouge.

Now, he was hardly the worst person in the campus but after your argument with him a few days back, things were still a bit...tense.

Obscured by the curtain drapes and dimmed lights of the lounge, you could barely make out Silver's sharp auroral gaze piercing through you. In all honesty, you were taken aback by just how well-hidden he was. For someone with his stature, he sure was remarkably stealthy.

Silver was casually leaning back against the plush couch, legs spread with his leather-clad hands clasped between his thighs. Instead of his usual outfit, he was dressed in a silky light green button-down shirt.

His legs donned black high-waisted slacks which was held up by a leather belt. Azul had given him the outfit to serve as a "uniform" of sorts. In addition to that, he carried his magic pen and sword, both of which were sheathed at his left hip.

Before you could continue ogling at your "bodyguard", a hand waves itself over your face. Blinking, you look up to see a bright-eyed brunette beaming down on you. The boy was slim but fairly built. He had on a grayish-tan vest over a black turtleneck shirt, dark brown pants, and black boots. Most notable was the red cape draped onto his shoulder, the vibrant crimson an odd contrast to his otherwise muted outfit.

"Hello there, are you the prefect?" The stranger smiled at you, revealing two dimples on the sides of his cheek. Stammering, you hastily scrambled to your feet.

"A-Ah, yes! That w-would be me. I'm assuming you're Philip?" A wobbly smile spread across your face as you held your hand out for him to shake. The boy chuckled and took your hand in his, swiftly pressing a kiss against your knuckles. "Yeah, I'm Philip. Well...Prince Philip."

"P-Prince?!" You squawked, eyes wide open. Just who did Azul set you up with?

"Ah, it's no big deal. I'm not too big on any of that royal stuff." The young prince winked, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Now, shall we carry on with our date?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Great Sevens. When was this going to end?

While initially charming, you soon found out that your date had no respect for your boundaries whatsoever. Prince Philip was extremely touchy. If him being pressed up snug against your side at this very moment wasn't enough proof of that.

"You know, I think I've actually met you before." Philip mused, tapping his fingers against your waist. "In a dream that is. Ah, which reminds me! Do you dance?"

"I trip over my feet all the time. So no, I don't." You chuckled awkwardly, twiddling with your thumbs. Philip snorted and stood, pulling you up with him. "Oh, but you must try it! Come, let's-"

"Philip, I'd really rather not." You frowned and tried to pull his hands off of you, but the prince refused to budge. His grip tightened and you whimpered. "Aw, it's just one little dance-"

"I believe they said no." Before Phillip could continue, Silver appeared and swiftly yanked the boy's hands off of you.

He guided you behind him, shielding you from the young prince with his body. "I think you've overstayed your visit. Come, I’ll guide you to the exit."

You watched helplessly as your bodyguard dragged the prince out of the lounge, ignoring each and everyone of Philip's protests.

Well...there goes your date.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I can't believe you did that, Silver." You grumbled.

You sat on the pavement, pulling your tall heels off and massaging your feet. The back of your ankle swelled red, evidence of all the hours you spent in this fancy get-up. Hours of hard work wasted and ruined in a single minute. "You didn't have to kick him out! I nearly got him to spill the secret!" 

"He clearly couldn't understand what a simple 'no' meant." Silver murmured. The look he sends you is one of concern, and probably disappointment, as he strides to your hunched over form. 

Silver placed his hand onto your back, but you pushed him away, far too disheartened to accept his aid. His eyes flashed hurt for a brief moment before he regained his composure, brows pinching together. "I was trying to help."

"Well, you weren't! I'm not some damsel in distress." You scoffed, slipping your heels back on. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"If that's the case then why didn't you tell him to stop?" He spoke, voice cracking. When you didn't respond, Silver stared at you with a wounded look in his eyes. "Do you like him?"

"Enough, Silver!" The back of your head throbbed and your eyes burned, the frustration from earlier finally sinking in. Throughout the entire night, you were left to deal with both Philip's advances and Silver's icy demeanor. It wasn't surprising to say that you were at your wit's end. 

You rose from the pavement, dusting your dress off before walking in the direction of your dorm. Silver blinks at you and swallows painfully as something shifts in his features. "Where are you going?"

"The night's over. You don't have to play bodyguard anymore. I'm leaving."

"Don't." You snapped your head around, fully prepared to start arguing once more, only to end up clamping your mouth shut when you saw his eyes glistening with tears. Silver ran a hand down his face, fingers roughly rubbing at his eyelids. "…. I'm sorry. Please don't."

"Silver...I got frustrated. I-I didn't mean..." you whispered, cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch - afraid that he might crack were you harsher with him.

"You don’t have to say anything...I-I just think I owe you an explanation as to why I acted the way I did." His hands cupped atop yours, squeezing tight.

"I know I do get overprotective at times, but I mean no harm. I just..." Silver trails off as he hesitated, which coaxed you to look up and meet his gaze.

"....I love you." He gently took you in his arms and wrapped you in a tight embrace, sighing deeply as he felt the welcome weight of your body against his. "I really love you."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisoniousheart @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost

↳ want to be added?

#my silver thirst is showing #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #silver vanrouge x reader #silver vanrouge #twst silver #twisted wonderland silver vanrouge #twisted wonderland prince phillip #twst prince phillip

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Please for all things holy - more wife reader introducing doting!bruce to working class things/food. I want my man to experience the joy that is hamburger helper after a hard, cold day. Bisquick chicken? BREAKFAST CASSEROLE DUDE?!

"What in god's name-"

The cacophony in the kitchen was enough to wake the dead. But it was the giggling that made Alfred pause and say a quick prayer. Please don't let them be having sex in the kitchen.

The relief when he shouldered the door open was short-lived. Everyone was thankfully clothed. And even if Bruce was trying to get handsy- why on earth were you making breakfast? And what in the hell were you cooking?

It smelled good. Even if he couldn't identify it. Some mix of sweet and savory.

"I couldn't sleep," you explain, gesturing at the mess.

"And I haven't been to bed yet," Bruce added.

That at least, Alfred thought nodding, explained why he'd only recently heard rattling around. Working around Bruce was probably like trying to avoid a particularly amorous octopus. "I see," he hummed, "And what did you decide was on the menu this morning?"

"Well," you explain gesturing. "I started cleaning and found a crockpot- so I did a french toast thing my grandma used to make and then I figured I should probably put some protein in there somewhere. So. Egg bake thing. Also biscuits and gravy but that's just because I had the time- and there was buttermilk in the fridge."

"Why were you cleaning?" Alfred asked, helping himself to a cup of coffee and pulling up a chair.

"Not that there was much to do," you snort, "But it helps me think."

"Ah." He added cream and sugar and watched for a moment as you smacked the back of Bruce's hand when he started to stir something that evidently didn't need it. And he made a mental note to inform the staff that if you were cleaning something they likely weren't in trouble.

You'd apparently made enough food to feed a small army and as people filtered in you cheerfully told them to take a plate. Odd and unorthodox as it was, he could see it winning friends. Even if there'd be grousing later about the amount of dishes to be done.

Competent, was how Alfred would describe it. Out of the corner of hs eye, he watched Bruce take a couple experimental bites and come to the same conclusion. Dick was much more enthusiastic. Declaring that he wanted your French Toast concoction every day. And that the Biscuits and Gravy were almost as good as the ones the sword swallower would make.

"Thanks, dude," you manage around a stifled yawn.

"Can you make Chili?" he asked.

"Do the Backstreet Boy want it that way?"

"Who?"

"Oh my god."

Bruce snorted, "Your social Security check will be in the mail next week."

"Bite me," you tell him, sticking your tongue out.

"I bet you're bitter," Dick mused. "Or Salty."

#Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne x reader #doting husband!bruce #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert

[bowlingforgerbils]

octonewton 👀 wywutmsequel 👀👀

octonewton is a Pacific Rim fanfic in which Newton is a merperson, but with an octopus lower half instead of a fish. He saves Hermann after a fall on the beach and romance ensues. I unfortunately never got farther than the little flashback scene at the beginning in which Hermann and Newt briefly meet as children. Here's a snippet:

He bends down to examine the pearly underside of a mussel shell. When he straightens, there is a boy in the water, waist-deep.

The boy smiles at him and waves. He doesn’t look any older than Hermann. “Hi!” He calls out. “What’s your name?”

“Hermann,” the boy on shore answers automatically. He doesn’t think to ask the same question.

The boy smiles wider. “That’s a funny name. I like it. Are you collecting shells?”

Hermann looks at his little bucket and hugs it to himself protectively. He has to share nearly everything with his brother, and the shells are his alone. But the boy is far away, and it isn’t nice to lie, so Hermann finally nods. Yes, he is.

“What’s your favorite kind?” the boy in the water asks.

Hermann loosens his grip on the bucket slightly. “Sea snail.”

“They don’t taste as good as oysters,” the boy in the water says.

 Hermann wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to eat them, I just like the shells. They follow the golden ratio. That makes them prettier than oysters.”

Even from the shore, Hermann can see the boy roll his eyes. “Well, oysters are cooler because they look like rocks but they’re alive.”

“What’s so cool about a rock?” Hermann demands, but the boy just sticks out his tongue.

Then he dives under the water and disappears.

Hermann frowns to himself and listlessly sorts through his shells. He didn’t mean to pick a fight with the other boy, and now he wishes that he hadn’t. 

wywutmsequel is the sequel to When You Wish Upon the Moon, a sequel that I have been plotting for ages and writing draft after draft and throwing each one away. I don't know what my problem is, probably I have put too much expectations on myself. Anyway, here's a snippet that is just as likely to be thrown out as every other iteration I have written, so don't get too attached:

They had been wandering the Gettysburg Battlefield, a site purportedly haunted by its many fallen soldiers. Pitch loved visiting “spooky” places and watching the humans make fools of themselves trying to get proof of ghosts with their phones and cameras. Sometimes Pitch would give a paranormal enthusiast a jolt of fear, and Sandy never protested because they were adults, not children, and it was admittedly a little funny to watch someone jump in the air and scream.

But on this particular night, Pitch had been more pensive than mischievous, his gaze wandering over the monuments, shadows trailing behind him. He paused to look over a statue of a man on horseback, his wide brow creasing in thought. “Sandy… when you were a star pilot… did you ever meet him? The General?”

Sandy blinked and read the monument’s plaque in confusion. <i>Winfield Scott Hancock?</i>

“No,” Pitch hissed, before recomposing himself. “No, I meant me. Him.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “Kozmotis Pitchiner.”

Oh! <i>Only once</i>, Sandy replied quickly, turning his attention to Pitch. <i>I was a cadet out on patrol when I spotted a large fearling. I tried to take it down but it was too big for my ship and likely would have destroyed me if it weren’t for General Pitchiner. He swooped in and saved the day.</i> Sandy gave a little smile at the memory before adding sheepishly, <i>He chewed me out afterwards for being reckless and taking on more than I could handle.</i>

Pitch snorted. “Sounds familiar,” he murmured, half to himself, but his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

<i>He also told me that I had some of the best moves he’d ever seen for such a young star pilot. I was so starstruck that I could barely thank him afterwards. We helped one another out a few times over the years in battle, but that was the only time he ever spoke to me.”

“I see…” Pitch turned away, as if disappointed, and added acerbically, “Must have been devastating to lose such a heroic figure…”

Sandy floated up so that Pitch could see his sand writing. <i>It was. But as much as I admired him, I didn’t know him. He wasn’t my friend.</i>

Something warm and vulnerable flickered in those tarnished silver eyes before something past Sandy’s shoulder caught the dark spirit’s attention. “I can’t believe it. That idiot over there brought a <i>ouija board</i>.” Pitch’s mouth curved up into a nasty grin. “A moment, Sandy, while I give him a little lesson in spirit etiquette.”

And that was that. Pitch never brought up the General again.

#use your words #newmann #pacific rim #blacksand #rotg #pitch black #sanderson mansnoozie

[tickling-giggles]

Tickletober day 10: Interrogation

Lee: Karma

Ler: Korosensei

———————————————————————-

“So karma, you wanna tell me why’d you put inappropriate manga and comics on my desk?” Korosensei asked, looking up from the papers he just finished grading.

“Whadya mean teach I didn’t do anything that was prob— actually it was Terasaka” Karma answered.

“Mhm yeah, says the same red head that put a dead octopus with a knife through its head on my lectern” korosensei reminds him.

“Oh c’mon it was funny you even laughed” karma threw his hand up.

“So then Karma if it wasn’t you then WHO was it?” Korosensei asked wanting a different answer.

“Teach I just told you, it was more than likely Terasaka, he’s the next asshole who would do something like that” Karma explained.

“More than likely or it was him?”

“More than likely I just said more than likely” Karma slowly began to become nervous.

“That’s weird because before you told me it was him so which is it Akabane” Korosensei sounded serious on purpose (even though he doesn’t really care and just wants to mess with the boy.)

“I didn’t say that I said probably” Karma answered as ‘calmly’ as possible.

“Hmm I see that I have to resort to a different tactic” Korosensei walked away letting karma think that he was done interrogating him.

“So am I free to gOAH T-teachehe” Karma had asked before, korosensei’s tentacles were surrounding his body.

“Hmmmm nope I would like a proper answer” he told karma.

“Ihihi dihid stohohop”

“What did you say I can’t quite remember” Korosensei was seeing if he was going to lie again.

“Ihihi sahahaid ihit whahahas terasakaaha”

“LIES!”

“Noho ihihit’s nahaAHAHAHHAT”

“So karma wanna tell me the truth now?”

“FIHIHIHINE IHIHIT WAHAHAHS ME OHONLEHE BEHECAUSE IHIHIT WAS A DAHAHRE”

“Hmmm interesting”

“IHIHI TOHOHOLD YOHOHIU THEHEHEHE TRUHUHUTH WHYHYHY STHIHIHIHILL TIHIHIHICKLES”

“Um because, it’s very intriguing and may I say adorable hearing you laugh and snort, also turn red” korosensei couldn’t help but teased as green striped appeared.

#kiara writes #tickle fic #assclass tickles #assclass tickling #tickletober fic #tickletober drabble #tickletober 2022 #lee!karma #ler!korosensei #tickletober2022

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 960

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @lostboysluvr (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2022

"Why won't you let us come over?" Marko asked with a pout, having just been declined by their lover (Y/n), that he and the boys couldn't come over to her home. "I just... I don't want... I don't want you guys to tease me..." (Y/n) admitted bashfully, knowing Marko would pry until he got a real answer. "What are you afraid we'll tease you about?" Dwayne asked, the boys now circling around her with curious eyes. "I don't wanna say." (Y/n) ducked her head down, hiding behind a long vail of her hair. "Come on kitten, you know everything there is to know about us. What are you so worried about?" David hummed before pulling his cigarette back between his lips. "You're right... Come on, let's go to my house." (Y/n) lifted her head up, smiling at the excited whoops the boys gave.

After an exciting ride across town to (Y/n)'s family home, she climbed off of Paul's bike with a spring in her step. Though deep down she was still a tad bit nervous. "I'm so excited!" Paul exclaimed while he and Marko bounced on the heels of their feet, and while they didn't respond as excitedly as Marko, who literally jumped up and down in excitement, Dwayne and David nodded their heads in agreement. (Y/n) giggled softly as she unlocked the front door, leading her lovers into her home and allowing Dwayne to close the door behind him, as he was the last one to come inside. Paul and Marko audibly gasped when they walked into the living room, while David and Dwayne simply chuckled at the sight. "Look I know it's kinda silly owning so many large stuffed animals, well owning stuffed animals in general at my age...." (Y/n) paused to lick her lips out of nervous habit.

"But I like them... A lot." She added bashfully, toying with her fingers as she stood by the far wall. "I love them!" Paul announced then he kissed (Y/n)'s cheek, and dove for the couch, snatching up the giant stuffed octopus and cuddling it to his chest. "Me too!" Marko beamed before kissing her other cheek, and rushing to sit beside Paul, cuddling into the giant unicorn, which was nearly the size of Marko! "I think it's cute." Dwayne hummed with a adoring smile, kissing her temple before flopping down onto the loveseat, cuddling the giant stuffed wolf. "This is what you were so worried about?" David asked with a small grin, cooing softly when she nodded her head yes. "Awe well that was stupid, we love you, and we love your interests." He mumbled as he held her face between his hands.

"Even when your interests are childish." He teased lightheartedly, making (Y/n) giggle as he kissed her nose. "Besides these will go great with your nest in the cave." David added as he walked across the room, placing himself into the lap of the largest stuffed animal in the room, a giant stuffed bear that honestly made David look small in its massive lap. "My nest?" (Y/n) perked up with excited eyes. "Of course." David smiled with a small tilt of his head. "I have even more stuffed animals upstairs!" (Y/n) beamed with pride, making the boys chuckle at her adorableness. "What's this guy's name?" Paul asked before nuzzling his face into the octopus. "That's Otto the octopus!" (Y/n) giggled softly, knowing his name was silly. "And the unicorn?" Marko asked. "Uni the unicorn!" She blushed a little.

"How about the wolf?" Dwayne asked, the four boys clearly amused with the names of her stuffies. "Wolfie the wolf." (Y/n) was grinning like a dope, holding back another giggle. "And the bear!?" Marko cut in before David could speak. "That's Mr. Beary Bearington." She responded before snorting in laughter, the guys chuckling with her. "Do you have a favorite?" David asked with curiosity. "He's upstairs, I'll go get him!" (Y/n) quickly rushed off. And a few moments later she came rushing back downstairs, with an impressively large black and purple stuffed dragon. "This is Drago the dragon, I usually sleep with him in my bed, he's an awesome cuddle buddy!" (Y/n) squeezed the stuffed dragon in her arms, a giggle escaping her when Paul snatched her up in his arms, stuffed animals and all.

"But we're supposed to be your cuddle buddies!" He whined as he rubbed his face into her neck, scent marking her a bit. "Don't worry I couldn't replace you guys with Drago. I love you guys to much." (Y/n) assured with a smile, equally nuzzling into Paul's soft hair. "Good!" Marko cut in, tackling the two to the ground, the three of them in a pile surrounded by giant stuffed animals. "Were any of these given to you as a gift from a past boyfriend?" Dwayne asked suddenly. "No... The last guys I dated all thought my stuffed animals were stupid and childish." (Y/n) pouted, despite being sandwiched between Marko and Paul. "We'll buy you all the stuffed animals you want!" Marko exclaimed excitedly, the others all agreeing wholeheartedly, making (Y/n)'s heart swell with love.

I actually own a lot of giant stuffed animals, and I thought this would be adorable to write! I also honestly feel like the boys would find it adorable that their mate collects stuffed animals, big or small!

#imagine #gif imagine #extended #The lost boys #lost boys dwayne #lost boys paul #lost boys marko #lost boys david #the lost boys imagines #lost boys imagine #the lost boys x you #the lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys #poly!lost boys imagine #poly lost boys x reader #poly lost boys imagine #poly lost boys #lb David #lb Marko #lb Paul #lb Dwayne #lb David imagine #lb Marko imagine #lb Paul imagine #lb Dwayne imagine #lb David x reader #lb Paul x reader #lb Marko x reader #lb Dwayne x reader

[thatharringrovehoe]

The first time Billy yells at their kid, and I mean really yells, is when they’re four years old. And look. Okay. Yes. Children are precious and don’t know any better and are just trying to navigate through a world that’s too big for them. That they’re not ready for. And it’s the adult’s job as a parent to guide them. To nurture them. To be the bigger, more mature person. He knows this. But something not enough people talk about is how no matter how much you love your kids, your issues you've carried all your life don’t magically disappear when they place that new born in your arms. That all the screaming clawing trauma of your own childhood follows behind you step for step like a shadow. And yeah. He’s gotten therapy. Pretty much had to after an interdimensional flesh octopus hole punched his chest like a good damn book report. And he’s been getting better. Really. But sometimes even though you love someone, you break anyway. Because parents are human. They boil over. Make mistakes. So when the cat knocks scalding hot coffee down his leg because some goddamn Mormons pressed the doorbell and fucking held it, making him jump up hitting his knee against the table and Billy’s gunna lose it because his son has been screaming for going on forty five minutes now about how much he doesn’t want to brush his teeth and Steve left his goddamn second alarm on AGAIN so Billy is running on less than three hours of sleep and that was the last of their coffee and those assholes are still holding down the damn door bell and-

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

He means it to include everyone but he’s looking at their little boy as he says it. Yells it. Roars. Like a monster.

Like him.

The doorbell stops ringing. The cat has scuttled away. The house is dead silent for all except the drip drip drip of coffee falling from the table to the floor in a growing puddle. Of the hushed little sniffles of a snotty nose.

Their little boy is looking at Billy like he’s never seen him before. Lamplight blue eyes wide and terrified. Cheeks puffy and red from crying, lower lip wobbly. But he doesn’t make a sound. Sits ramrod straight in the booster seat he’s been camping out on for over half and hour because if he brushes his teeth then it’ll make his mouth taste funny. He wants to taste his lucky charms a little longer. But they had to get to a dentist appointment in fifteen minutes and… And Billy put the fear of God into his four year old child over a fucking dentist appointment?

Billy takes a half step forward, hand reaching out to fix this, when the little boy finches. Breath hitching. Doesn’t say a word. Because… because Billy said so. Demanded it.

Respect and responsibility

Billy turns on his heel and bolts to the bathroom down the hall. Locks the door behind him then falls down to his knees so hard they crack against the tile, wretches into the toilet. Empties out the bacon and eggs and measly two sips of coffee he had this morning during breakfast with his son. And Jesus fuck he knew it. Knew he was no good. Steve was wrong and Billy should have never even considered the prospect of becoming a father. Steve is the one who’s good with kids. Patience so endless he carted six preteens around for three years till they were all old enough to get their own licence. Still does sometimes when they’re low on gas money. Because Steve is good. And Billy is Billy. Is mean and broken and fucked up and just like Neil. Always breaks things no matter how hard he tries. Sits there crouched down on the bathroom floor with his forehead against the toilet seat and cries. Ugly tears running down his cheeks to mix with the bile and spit on his chin.

It’s not till he calms down enough to take a few deep breaths that Billy realizes there’s a gentle pat pat pat of a tiny hand against the bathroom door. Sits up and swipes the back of his arm against his mouth and grimaces. Gets up and splashes cold water on his face. Washes his hands and takes a deep deep breath. Holds it. And lets it go.

When Billy opens the door, there stands his son, still dressed in his wonder woman footie pajamas Max got him for Christmas. He’s holding his favorite stuffed bear, looking up at his father with a hesitation Billy’s never seen in him before. It grinds the shattered pieces of his broken heart to dust.

Before Billy can say a single word the little boy shifts. Plants his feet. And God just that has all that broken heart dust blowing away on the breeze. Because Billy told himself he would never do this. Promised himself when the surrogate handed him the squirming blue bundle that was their child he would be better. Wasn’t gunna end up like his own father. And Billy wants to say something so bad but he can already feel more tears clogging up his throat. Doesn’t wanna cry in front of his kid. Losses the battle entirely when his little boy holds up his favorite bear to Billy. And he never lets anyone touch the ratty thing. Won’t even let Steve wash it so they have to stage a switcheroo Indiana Jones style while he’s napping just to put it through a quick cycle. Billy gets down to the kid's level and holds open his arms. Hopes to every God he’s never believed in that this is okay. His son rushes forward, little arms tight around Billy’s neck while Billy holds him.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I'm sorry

Later that evening, when appointments have been moved and multiple movies have been watched, Steve comes home from work to find his husband and child cuddled up on the couch, half way though watching Bambi and eating ice cream for dinner. They put their little boy to bed and Steve notices Billy’s face crumble a little when their son rushes off to go brush his teeth unprompted.

It’s only when they’ve kissed their son goodnight and gone down for the night themselves that Billy tells Steve what happened. And Steve gets it. Knows the things Billy has gone through. Knows how hard he tries. So he just holds his husband as he cries silently, wrapped around each other under the covers of their California king. Runs his fingertips up and down Billy’s back.

“I'm just like him”

Steve can’t stop himself from snorting.

“You’re really not”

Billy growls, all nasally from crying.

“How the fuck would you know Harrington?”

Steve rolls his eyes. Ever fond and exasperated in equal parts.

“It’s Hargrove now since I married your dumb ass. And I know you’re not your father because I know you.”

Billy scoffs. Steve is undeterred.

“Billy. Baby. Can you recall at any point in your life your dad apologizing to you? For like, anything? ”

Billy says nothing but Steve knows he heard. Knows the answer is no. Steve sighs, not for the last time cursing Neil Hargrove and his black shriveled heart.

“Our son knows you love him. So, you made a mistake. You’re human. You apologized. It’s gunna be okay.”

Billy holds Steve tighter. Whispers a ‘thank you’ into his chest.

In the morning, Steve buys more coffee.

#parenting is HARD y'all #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #kid fic #Neil Hargrove sux #that hoe writes

[river-bottom-nightmare]

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

[abundanceofnots]

The door to the darkened alley next to the Alibi Room opens behind him, letting out a jumble of voices and loud music. Mickey expected Ian to find him there sooner or later. That’s why he’s so surprised to see that it’s not his husband pushing the heavy door open with his hip, his hands occupied by holding two glasses of beer, but Tami, his—

Well, whatever they are to each other.

Strangers, mostly. Both holding the title of Gallagher family appendages—the husband and the baby mama—who occasionally shared a laugh over some Gallagher bullshit. But that has always been as far as their relationship went.

“Occupied,” he informs her curtly before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

Tami smiles, undeterred.

“I was actually looking for you,” she explains as she lets the door close behind her, cutting the sounds from the inside to mere thumps again.

“Look, if you’re already tired of your baby daddy’s dick, I can’t say I blame ya, but you’ll have to find someone else because, on principle, I don’t fuck Lip’s sloppy seconds—”

Tami makes a face. “Jesus fuck. Is that really the only reason you can think of why I might want to see you?”

His eyes dart around her head of hair as he tries to look at anywhere but her, suddenly feeling very tense.

“Yeah?”

“Well, fuck you, too. No, here, listen.” She passes him one of the beers. “I saw the way you looked back in there and thought you might wanna talk.”

Mickey’s felt sick all evening. Ever since their big announcement when Ian threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, squeezed him tight, and gave him that blinding grin before he told everyone the good news.

There was clapping and noise, so much fucking noise. People were reaching out their hands to tap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, and it made Mickey feel like those hands were all grasping his throat while his blood was pumping in his ears.

His plan was to spend the rest of the party here, where he could breathe again, chain-smoking his way through the ordeal. He thinks he’ll be sick if he drinks anything right now, but he takes the glass from Tami anyway.

“About?” he shoots back noncommittally.

“Why you’re scared.”

On instinct, Mickey scoffs out a laugh. “Fuck off, I ain’t scared.”

“Right,” Tami replies, giving him a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. “That why you’re hiding out here during your own party?”

“Just needed to—” Groaning in exasperation, Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose and composes himself. “I just needed a second away from everyone congratulatin’ me. Or callin’ me daddy Milkovich. Or fuckin’ Kermit asking if I was gonna be the mom or the dad—” He cuts himself off again, measuring Tami with a hard stare. “What’s it to you, anyway?

She responds with a sincere smile.

“Believe it or not, I was scared of having a baby, too.”

Mickey’s brows furrow in confusion. “That why you decided to have another?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared anymore.”

“Sounds fuckin’ stupid.”

“Maybe,” Tami admits with half a shrug.

They spend the next few minutes in silence, Tami drinking her beer and Mickey finishing his smoke, his own beer left untouched.

“But you’re a chick, you know, so it’s different,” Mickey states resolutely after he lights another cigarette, confident he’s found an argument she couldn’t dispute. “You have, like, all those motherly instincts and shit. I don’t.”

For some reason, she snorts and shakes her head. Then, her expression softens again, and she says, “I have it on good authority that there’s one little boy who basically worships the ground you walk on.”

“He’s five. Fuck does he know,” he retorts back derisively, immediately chastising himself because Freddie knew a lot, in fact. Most importantly, how to get underneath Mickey’s skin.

Not that he didn’t love and pester Ian just as much, obviously. Everyone loved Ian, the charming motherfucker. But Mickey and the kid had a special bond, much to Lip’s irritation.

Freddie was one of the main reasons Mickey decided that he was ready to have kids all those months ago. He isn’t so sure of it now, though.

He takes another drag and lets the smoke out through his nose.

“I never thought I’d be this,” he explains ambiguously, not just meaning being a guy who gives enough shit to smoke outside a bar. “Always knew how to survive. I was good at that. I was gonna see forty, most of it behind bars, maybe fifty, if I was lucky enough and didn’t lose a fuckin’ limb at some shitty construction job. And then, one day, I wake up to a tire iron to my spine—”

“If that’s a metaphor, I don’t follow.”

“—and next thing I know, I have a whole ass husband, a fuckin’ condo on the West Side like some yuppie, and I catch myself sayin’ things like, fuck it, let’s have a kid. What’s wrong with me? I can’t fuckin’ do this, can I?”

The truth he’ll never admit to anyone, probably, is that Tami’s right. He is scared. Fucking terrified, really. Because there’s a kid who will have him for a dad, and Mickey feels sorry for it.

The poor bastard isn’t even a proper baby yet. It’s just a sonogram stuck to their fridge. A baby-like matter that Ian’s app insists is the size of cauliflower now. When Mickey finally managed to spot one in Whole Foods, he found himself apologizing to it for some bizarre reason.

He doesn’t want to be like his dad. He wants to do this right, but he doesn’t know if he knows how.

“The most important thing?” Tami breaks the silence then, reading Mickey’s reaction correctly even when he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t bail on this kid. Or Ian, because he’ll need you to be there just as much.”

Mickey bites his cheek and nods. There’s a chance he’d say more, ask Tami for advice even, maybe, if, at that very second, Ian didn’t come out to join them, bursting out of the alleyway door as if summoned.

“There’s the pops-to-be!” he cheers a little too loudly with a smile that splits his whole face. He stumbles forward on clumsy feet and envelops Mickey tightly in his arms. “I was looking for you.”

“Fuckin’ octopus-man,” Mickey laughs, careful not to let the drunk idiot spill his beer. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Just a couple beers,” Ian answers as he nuzzles into Mickey’s neck.

“Such a fuckin’ lightweight.”

Humming his agreement, Ian snags Mickey’s glass and knocks down most of its contents in one go. He belches before saying in a low voice, “I was planning on dragging your ass to the bathroom later and having my way with you, but since we’re already here, alone...”

He already has his free hand palming at Mickey’s dick over his jeans when Tami makes a sound behind him, something between a snort and a cough.

Ian’s eyes take a minute to properly zero in on her.

“Tami! Hey!” he greets her with exaggerated excitement. “You’re here, too. Why are you here, too? Something wrong?”

Tami looks pointedly at Mickey. “Wanna tell him, or should I?”

He seriously considers being honest for a second, but his next words are out before he can stop them.

“Your brother’s girlfriend was tryna jump me.”

Tami almost chokes on the incredulous huff of laughter she lets out. She finishes her beer and shakes her head, staring Mickey down.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Mickey, I swear to God. Forget I ever said anything,” she barks at him as she goes for the door.

“Hey, Tami,” Mickey stops her last minute. “Thanks, or whatever.”

Tami rolls her eyes. Still, just before she slips back inside, she throws a quick smile over her shoulder.

“Did you just thank her for trying to fuck you?” Ian inquires stupidly when the door closes behind her.

“Sure,” Mickey sounds off without further explanation.

He turns back to his husband and lightly pats his cheek, letting his hand slide all the way down to his junk in hopes of pointing his attention in the right direction again. “So, about those plans you had—“

But all of a sudden, Ian’s white as a sheet, giving him a look of absolute horror.

“What?” Mickey asks, mirroring his look.

“Think I’m gonna puke.”

“’ Course you are,” Mickey has enough time to groan before Ian bends in half and proceeds to throw up on the sidewalk.

Mickey takes a few steps away, trying to give Ian some privacy, but he’s stopped by a hand clutching his wrist and pulling him back.

“I’m so sorry, Mick,” Ian says in between spits as his hand slides down to hold Mickey’s awkwardly.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Mickey tells him gently—just as gently as he strokes his back in big circles. “I’m here.”

#just 1.5k words with some post-canon much needed convo #that wouldn't leave my mind alone #my fics #shameless fanfiction #shameless fic

[fandom-monium]

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be? 

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows. 

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous. 

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about? 

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all. 

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.” 

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are. 

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal. 

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that. 

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed? 

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh. 

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door. 

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug. 

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now? 

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name." 

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

 "You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions. 

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you. 

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting. 

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you? 

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare. 

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile. 

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles. 

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago. 

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back. 

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile. 

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.” 

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters. 

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism. 

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance 

#spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg fic #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

[sunlit-squid]

Hiya! How bout "Please, talk to me... it kills me seeing you like this" for the simping softness prompts? 💕

For those who don't know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I'll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

hoo boy, here we go. thanks for the ask! ficlet is below the cut.

“Spongebob! Open up!”

Once again, no response. Squidward sighed, slumping down in front of the door to Spongebob’s pineapple home in defeat. Having nothing to do, the cephalopod fixed his gaze upward, to the sky above the sea. The sun was starting to set, bathing the open ocean in a warm, reddish hue.

The cephalopod shifted uncomfortably, his legs chafing on Spongebob’s pebbled walkway. He must have been here for hours, at this point. When he boarded the bus back to Bikini Bottom, the sun was still high in the sky.

When the bus finally tottered its way down Conch Street, nearly two hours later, the sun was still there -- bright and burning above the seafloor. As soon as the bus came to a screeching halt, Squidward bounded off of it, headed straight for Spongebob’s house. The little poriferan didn’t respond when Squidward knocked -- but he was definitely inside, and he was definitely crying.

Spongebob Squarepants was many things -- but he was most certainly not a quiet cryer.

Squidward glanced up and down Conch Street. He had to admit, Bikini Bottom was pretty creepy with no one around. Not a soul in sight. Not a peep in any direction. And Spongebob’s just … been here, said a quiet voice in his head. He’s just been here, all alone. For a week.

Reinvigorated, Squidward stood up, and began pounding on the sponge’s front door once again. “Spongebob, open up, I’m serious! You really think I wanna be here? Because I don’t, but you … you’ve forced my tentacle!”

No response, yet again. Squidward groaned, pressing his forehead to the cool metal of Spongebob’s door. “You’re such a pain,” muttered Squidward, heat rising to his cheeks. “I went to National No Spongebob Day to get away from you … so why are you all of a sudden popping up in my dreams every night?”

It was embarrassing, but true -- ever since Squidward left Bikini Bottom for National No Spongebob Day (which, truth be told -- was actually National No Spongebob Days), he’d been plagued by nightmares. Spongebob-related nightmares. And not the usual sort, with him laughing and being obnoxious or whatever.

In these nightmares, the sponge was crying, sobbing so hard his little body shook. And Squidward could do nothing but watch.

At first, it was tolerable -- but after one whole week of that same dream, Squidward couldn’t take it anymore. Inexplicably, he boarded the first bus back to Bikini Bottom. Back to Conch Street. Back to Spongebob.

Squidward curled up his tentacles in frustration. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Spongebob. “I was two hours away, on a trip dedicated to getting away from you, and yet somehow, some way … I came running back.”

Just then -- miraculously -- the door to the pineapple opened, ever so slightly. In the doorway stood Spongebob Squarepants, in a soft purple bathrobe, holding an empty coffee mug between two small hands.

As Squidward suspected, the boy had clearly been crying. His blue eyes were bright red, and very puffy.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Squidward sputtered out the first thing that came to mind: “Please, talk to me... it kills me seeing you like this.”

Spongebob’s bright blue eyes looked him up and down. Then, he scowled -- a look that rarely made its way onto the sponge’s face. “Why would you wanna …,” Spongebob sniffed, wiping more tears from his eyes. “Why would you wanna talk to me? Don’t you wanna … get away from me, too?”

The sponge gestured feebly at Squidward’s shirt -- just a simple white tee with Spongebob’s face crossed out. The octopus winced.

“No, I -- look, I’ll, I’ll take it off --”

“What? But Squidward, I don’t have anything for you to wear --”

“I don’t care, it’s happening, I’m takin off the shirt, look --”

“Squidward, I -- I --”

It was too late: Squidward had taken the shirt off. Now, he (completely naked) and Spongebob (in a simple, grimy robe) were just standing at the entrance to the pineapple, staring stupidly at one another. Several long, weird minutes passed, before suddenly -- they both began to laugh, and laugh hard. Normally, Spongebob’s laugh was annoying, especially to Squidward -- but after several hours of hearing the sponge cry through the cracks of his pineapple … it was nice to hear him laugh again.

Spongebob snorted, chuckles spilling from his mouth. “You’re naked,” he giggled.

“And you’re stupid,” muttered Squidward, pulling the white tee back over his head.

“Why’d you even take it off in the first place?” the sponge asked, still laughing.

“Look, I don’t know,” groaned Squidward, leaning against Spongebob’s door frame. “I think it’s you. You make me crazy, Spongebob.”

Spongebob smiled, rolling back and forth on his heels. “So you left National No Spongebob Day?”

A vibrant blush spread across Squidward’s cheeks. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” he muttered.

“Because you were … dreaming about me?” prodded Spongebob.

Squidward rolled his eyes, fully entering the pineapple and shutting the door behind him. He hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m here now,” he huffed, moving further into Spongebob’s living room. “I’ll make some tea. In the meantime … I have no idea when the rest of the town will be back. Why don’t you find a movie you like?”

Spongebob grinned. “Any movie?”

Squidward sighed. “As long as it’s not a romantic comedy.”

#squidbob #sbsp #spongebob squarepants #squidward tentacles #spongebob #squidward #my fics #sunlit-squid #spongeward

[blushing-starker]

don't expect that line I previously mentioned because I'm chaotic and forgot about @starkerfestivals amazing omegaverse week since it goes hand in hand with finals and my brain only fit one of these events in my mental planner

Today's theme is heat/rut and it's slightly nff, has some sexual teasing but nothing too explicit. I'd rate this teen, is all I'm saying. I apologize for any writing mistakes, I'm finishing this at 11pm before collapsing in my bed.

Tagging @vaguekiwi cuz I mentioned this to her today

Needy little alpha

------------

Tony wakes up to a purring alpha throwing himself on top of his defenseless body with the force of a freight train driven by a drunk man on drugs. Peter's been told a thousand times before how yes, he may be as heavy as a goddamn feather, but it still aches when that super strength plops down and refuses to let the victim's lungs function adequately. But his boyfriend is a sadist who loves cuddles and making Tony suffer.

"No."

"You love my cuddles," it's true, they bring him pain and purple bruises everywhere but there's nothing quite as soothing as a content alpha kneading like a kitten at his chest, " and you know it. "

"Uh, that's false. Never said I love cuddles. I tolerate your octopus habits, there's a difference." Peter leans back with a pout and teary eyes, wobbles that God forsaken bottom lip like he always does whenever Tony denies the kid something and presents a challenge.

Nimble fingers slide up into, unfortunately, silver hair and nonononono that's unfair. He snarls, tries to infuse the air with as many displeased pheromones as possible so Peter can take a hint when nails scratch right above his nape and Tony's done. Unravels at this hobgoblin's feet and he's half way sure his soul goes out in a huff as little circles are pressed into the exact spot that causes him so much neck pain.

Peter unashamedly preens when Tony melts into their bed and starts pawing at him for more cuddles. "Say you love my cuddles and I won't leave the bed for an hour. Throw in a kiss and I'll rub your back."

He hates(loves) this kid. Hates(loves) how he sing songs as soon as the situation doesn't favour the actually responsible adult in the relationship. Hates(loves) the way Peter never misses the places that leave him sinking into fluffy pillows. Hates how, oh that's nice.

There are tiny kisses littered on a chest glowing blue, small indentations from teasing lips pressed into spread arms and cold hands.

"Ruts gotten you needy, huh, little alpha?" Not that this one was any different from all the other ruts they've shared since dating. Tony secretly adores Peter like this, extra affectionate the minute his shyness and fear of outside criticism is washed away, replaced with the need to shower his omega in love and attention. Yes, Peter has his heart 365 days of the year. Yes, he'd die for his tiny spiderling no matter what.

But this is just really nice, ok? Previous lovers were rarely alphas so this ritual of gluing their bodies together when rut came was an added benefit to being with Peter. That and the hormones he let out while happy soothed Tony to no end.

Peter nips at his finger, still a bit too early on for him to accept the nicknames. He blushes though, a pale pink highlighting a face much more lovely than the cherubs painted on the cathedrals of Rome. Jesus, he's whipped and all they've done is cuddle.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I love your cuddles. Cherish them. Want them every day for the rest of my life. But I love you, my needy little alpha with a fantastic," there's a pillow smashed against his face.

"If you say dick, I'm climbing down to wrestle Bucky and I won't let Karen record it for your spank bank. " Oh, that's a low blow.

He relaxes, let's Peter sink into him with a startled yelp, rolls them over, sits on the kid's lap and clamps his knees around a trim waist. Peter may be Spider-Man, but he's Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn't lose in bed.

Well. Not unless he wants to.

"You do that and you can say hello to your toy, the one I know is stashed in your old room under the bed in a comic book box, because that'll be the only thing helping you out when the rut really hits." Will Tony suffer immensely if that happens? Yes. He's a sucker for a needy Peter being ridiculously horny and possessive. Thing is, you don't threaten a man's spank bank. No sir. Everything else is fair play. His carefully organized folders of viewing material are not to be messed with.

Peter's blush is on full blast, spreads over a long neck and absolutely delicious, no. Be strong, Tony.

"You know about the toy?" It's a squeak, normal voice rocketing upwards thanks to the position Tony's ass is in and the knowledge that his secret is out. Which wasn't even a secret to begin with anyway because Tony is in love with the only genius not smart enough to erase his browser history in the lab's computer. Which Tony uses. Routinely. Every day.

"Know about it? I've seen it. You left it out once, all used up on your bed while you were showering. You remember that, don't you? We had sex in the bathroom that day. Bruised my back and everything?"

Peter furrows his brow, works a plush lip and no, look away, Tony, look away. The kid is sin and indulgence and heaven and no.

"Oh. Oh." Whenever he thinks his boy can't go any redder, Peter busts out a new shade of pink.

"Yup. So. I'm pretty sure this is what you wanted in the first place. Maybe it wasn't your intention," he stresses when Peter's already launching up and nearly throwing him off in an attempt to reassure Tony that wasn't his purpose with the cuddles, "but you certainly wouldn't have minded this outcome. And by this outcome I mean my incredible ass on top of that fantastic dick."

Peter tries to suffocate with a pillow held over his face.

"You've got two choices, kid. You threatened the spank bank. The teasing is fine, you know I love when my pretty kitty shows his claws," a hand slaps his arm, makes him grin, " But threatening such an integral part of my mental stability? Wrong move, Queens. You aren't getting any until tonight, not even so much as a French kiss will be given. Unless you let me bite a mark on that amazing neck and don't push me away when I nuzzle you in front of the team. "

Well. Now he's definitely being thrown off of Peter's lap.

He lands on the other side of the bed with a groan, is assaulted by a whining Peter intent on receiving something to further postpone the urge for sex that's sure to hit him soon enough.

An alpha, Tony's learned, will usually be very cuddly and affectionate the first few days of a rut week. Then the possessive, protective side will slowly emerge. Nests of pillows, couch cushions, blankets and favorite pieces of clothing appear on the fourth sunrise. The next morning comes with the need for relief, for intimacy and a marathon of sex that'll leave any supersoldier exhausted by the end of it. The resulting days offer comfort, an aftercare of sorts, where the alpha and their partner show a soft affection similar to the beginning. Nests are utilized and bodies soothed. It lasts, at most, a week and the majority of the population only has to take slightly increased portions of food.

That's for people without the metabolism of four grown men.

Peter needs sex, as much as possible, so the itch for urgent intimacy doesn't result in Tony tackled to the floor of the lab in the middle of an experiment every day of the week. It's like giving him nicotine patches instead of a cigarette.

So now he's whimpering, tugging on Tony's clothes just a little too hard if the ripping sound is any indication.

"...sorry, Tony..."

"It's fine, I've got more. I'm not letting this go though. The teams' seen us fuck against a wall, their opinion and respect, your worth, didn't change. So come on. Just one little mark. One. And Bucky nuzzles Steve and Sam all the time. Hell, Pepper sometimes nuzzles me when I'm stressed out. Please, baby? "

There it was; Tony's secret weapon. Peter blushed like a virgin on a wedding night whenever he used pet names, but the genius knows his boyfriend enjoys the familiarity and subtle intimacy. Felt reassured that they were a romantic couple and not a mentor fucking his protege.

The kid nibbles at his neck, wraps gangly limbs around a body that's always been his to take comfort in. "Just one mark? And light, I mean it, Tony, light nuzzling in front of the team. For today. Then I can get what I want?"

He snorts, can't fully comprehend how the universe paired him up with someone so intent on making Tony's joints ache and creak. "Yeah, we can have sex later, Mr Charming. Subtle as brick, that Spider-Man. Let's go get you cleaned up, make sure that rut has a hard time getting my boy under the weather."

He goes to get up. He leans forward. He cannot, in fact, leave the bed.

Peter bites with a bit more pressure, drops his hips down harder and Jesus Christ, they're never seeing the light of the kitchen if his boyfriend can't wait til it's dark.

"Or..."

"I'm an old man, I need protein before you go jumping tired bones that have to spend two hours updating your suit." Ok, so maybe he's slightly bitter and annoyed at not having enough stamina (or refractory period, for that matter) to keep up with a repressed teenage superhuman. It's not his fault Pepper keeps bringing Krispy Kreme donuts to the office meetings.

It'd be rude not to eat with the others anyway.

"You don't have to do anything." Ah, it's one of those ruts.

Tony softens, smoothes a hand down a back that could hold a plank under a five story building with ease, kisses a heated cheek.

"Needy little alpha." It's his turn to whisper and nuzzle against soft skin.

"Kind, not so little omega?" Tony laughs, presses their lips together so Peter can see what's it like to taste a smile radiating with joy and love. Slowly clicks the button on the nearest nightstand; unless someone is dying , it'll just be the two of them in the room.

(There was an incident once. Groot may have been traumatized by a situation involving superstrength, webs and the Ironette costume Tony only adored when it adorned Peter's body.)

"I do so love my needy little alpha needing me, don't I?"

His boyfriend blinks, grins at Tony as if he's just hung the moon and stars for his spiderling and ok, a little sex early in the morning isn't that bad.

"You love my cuddles too."

"Shut up and kiss me, Queens. I'm not getting any-"

They don't talk about anything too important after that.

----------

A little sex early in the morning actually is that bad when you miss a meeting with the U.N and show up smelling like sex, infatuation and, oddly enough, strawberry.

Rocket doesn't stop teasing for months.

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #ironspider #starker #my writing #a/b/o #omegaverse au #alpha!peter #omega!tony #slightly nff #nff #tagging like that just in case #soft!starker #slightly #smutty!starker #Ok lets do this one last time #background sambucky #background stucky #its One line

[clearlynotjanus]

Dukeceit Week Day 3 Teaser: Octopus

Yes okay listen, I know the actual prompt choice is between bugs & snakes but I have an intense fear of bugs & my girlfriend wanted to write snakes so!!! Octopuses. This one’s been done for like a week now & I only just realized I forgot to give you guys the teaser so you can tell how scatterbrained I’ve been lately!! Apologies!

Anyway enjoy this teaser! & as always, if you’d like to be on my tag list to be @’d in works like this as well as my fic related stuff, give this linked post a like or send me a message. If you have any questions or suggestions, my ask box is always open! If you would like to get the rest of this fic early access, please consider subscribing to my Patreon. If you’d just like to support my work or request a writing commission, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi. Thanks so much for being an awesome audience 💛

CW: SFW sexual tension, tentacle porn mention, intrusive thoughts, self hatred Word Count: 2164 (Teaser: 610) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Gen Rating: Teen Ships: Dukeceit

Taglist: @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @bimtrimmerr @catalinaacosta​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @poptartsaysurloved​ @serpentinesomebody​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​ @vexelore​ @the-snekwhisperer-world​ @whatishappeningrightnow @sanderssidesangsttrash @trash-bastard @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626 @cosplayhanna @edupunkn00b

“It’s not done yet,” Remus explained as he twisted another line through the octopus’ skin. With a quiet sound, Janus repositioned his legs either side of Remus, leaning forward to get a better look. “Later I wanna put some ink wash in the background and stuff.” He continued, fully knowing that the piece wouldn’t be resumed once he put it down. 

It wasn’t a lie, Remus really did want to flesh it out the way it deserved to be. He reserved that plan for most of his work. It was just … difficult to get back into something after he had stopped, once the initial momentum and fixation was lost.

“I see,” Janus mumbled with lips hovering directly next to his ear. Remus’ breathing halted. 

Nervousness began to tear at his stomach, the drawing wholly forgotten as he suddenly realized how close they were. Janus’ hand in his hair was one thing. He was used to that. Janus’ legs pressing against his arms, lips inches from his ear, body leaning against his back -- all very different things that placed a pressure behind his eyes, blurred his vision with sudden desire. His face blushed and Remus forced himself to breathe. They had kissed already, a few times now, so this shouldn’t be a big deal, he told himself. And it wasn’t like Janus was about to kiss him right now -- or was he? Remus exhaled, internally begging for the sound to not shake. He stared at the outline of Janus’ face from the corner of his eye. Was he?

Janus could feel the anxiety rippling off of Remus just like the heat that permeated from his cheeks. A fond smile curved his lips. 

“This still makes you nervous, doesn’t it.” Janus whispered rhetorically and Remus whined, head falling like his school-boy reaction was something to be ashamed of. “Shhh,” Janus chuckled the soothing sound as he turned to press a familiar kind of kiss against Remus’ temple. Remus sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Janus was so soft with him, he hated it. Of course it was more complicated than that, but his knee-jerk thought was always that he hated it. Hated Janus’ red lips full of love pressing against any part of him. Hated Janus’ patient hands that caressed his skin like porcelain. Skin that should be bulging and splitting and cracking from the demons and sludge that writhed and squirmed beneath it. These thoughts made it obvious that the only part of himself that hated Janus’ affection was the desperate one that wanted teeth and nails and blood and punishment. The more present part of Remus that realized all this wanted to like it. Wanted to smile against the mouth that kissed his gaping maw. Wanted to will his claws into hands shaped to cup Janus’ cheeks. Most of all, both parts wanted to feel like he deserved any of it.

“Dee,” He breathed impatiently, and soon the proximity was retracted with a sigh of finality against that rose goosebumps along his arms.

“Tell me about the octopus,” Janus requested at normal volume as he sat back against the couch, crossing his legs once more. The fever in Remus’ blood cooled slowly and he blinked at his art, remembering its existence. “Why do you like them so much anyway?”

“Well their tentacles make great sex toys,” Remus sputtered with an almost manic laugh. Janus snorted and rolled his eyes, very used to that sort of outburst. 

“No, really,” He insisted, gently knocking his knee into the side of Remus’ head. “There’s an actual reason, right? All your miscellaneous octopus paraphernalia can’t just be because they’re cool.” He pressed snarkily.

continue reading

#dukeceit #demus #janus x remus #sanders sides #tss fanfic #fanfic teaser #dukeceit week

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 5 - Of Halloween and Fred’s bluntness

series masterlist

tags:  @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina​ ; @thatguppienamedbae​ ; @sagittarius-flowerchild​​; @hufflepuff5972​ ; @pandaxnienke​ ;  @izzyyy-1

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, sexual references, mentions of food and eating, alcohol consumption word count: 1749 a/n: This might’ve been the most fun to write chapter yet. Surprise in form of diving into George’s mind for a chapter! a/n 2: I planned out and published the chapter titles in advance on purpose, as a little teaser, so you could try to figure out what the plot could be and I cannot express enough how excited I am for the next one 

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

 —————⑤—————

 George woke up from blissful sleep to be met with a dull headache. He went to reach and open the curtain of his four-poster, rubbing his face in the process and winced immediately, reminding himself of previous day’s events.

He lay back on the pillow, his bottom lip throbbing slightly.

He brought his fingers to the swollen lip, touching it carefully, thinking back to how your fingers would brush over it delicately as you tended to him last evening. You were too good for him.

Fred’s heavy groan, signalling his wake up, distracted George from going down the same path again as last night when his thoughts went spiralling, going over and over the short conversation you had right afterwards, until he passed out and fell asleep.

He stretched in his bed and lazily got up, ready to start the day.

—————⑤—————

 They walked down the spiralled steps quickly, on their way to grab lunch, as it was way past time for breakfast. George slipped into the common room and saw you waiting at the table, writing something in your small notebook. You looked up soon enough and your eyes lit up when they met his, you slammed shut the notebook and slipped it into your bag.

“Hi there,” you waved to the three boys, walking up to them. Your gaze travelled to George’s lip and he noticed concern flood your eyes right away. You truly looked like an angel, smiling like that.

“How’s it feel?” you asked, twisting your face a bit and pointing at his mouth once you started walking. “Alright,” he answered, nodding, “it seems to be healing well, whatever you rubbed in it must’ve helped,” he smiled. “Ah see, magic,” you said, smugly, trying to appear mysterious. “Pure love,” Fred exclaimed, walking in the front, “and just the right amount of spit,” he added, turning to you for a moment, making the rest of you laugh.

 “Have you managed to finish your costumes?” You asked enthusiastically, before bringing a forkful into your mouth. “Yup,” George replied, clearly proud of himself. “We’re gonna look absolutely wicked, I’m so glad we agreed on this,”  Lee stated, and you smiled wider at the boys.

“Are you doing any make-up?” Fred asked. You bit your lip in thought, “Dunno… I mean, they’re cartoons, I don’t think they wear make-up..? But maybe…why?” “If you’re wearing make-up, and we’re not” Fred gestured between himself and George, “then we won’t be matching anymore,” he reasoned. “True. I could come over and we’d do it together, I could help you out. Might be fun. George..?” you asked, checking if he had any objections. “I’m cool,” he said, shrugging.

 George was lying in bed, in his outfit, waiting. Lee was putting on some finishing touches to his costume and Fred was still in his boxers and socks. Five minutes before the appointed time, they heard your signature knock on the door.

You walked in and upon seeing Fred’s ‘too-close-to-naked’ butt turned to you, twisted your face and gagged as a hello. “You’re early, sunshine,” Fred said cheekily, walking behind his bed and pulled back the curtain to get dressed behind it. George took a moment to notice how cute you looked in your costume. “On time, five minutes early,” you countered and went to sit down on George’s bed.

You gave him an appraising look, scanning him from head to toe and he felt a strong urge to pull his skirt down, making you chuckle. “Nice legs,” you winked. “I’d argue,” Fred declared, raising one of his own legs tantalizingly from behind the curtain.

“What’s up with your face?” Lee gave you a puzzled sort of look, only now turning to you properly.

Now that George thought about it, it did look a bit weird.

“I prepped my face and did my foundation, I’ll do the rest once I know what those two want me to do to their faces,” you said.

Yes, yes now that would explain it.

You opened your makeup bag and pulled some stuff George had no clue about. He’s never actually seen you do your makeup. At school, if you’re wearing any, he always saw you already in it. The only opportunity would be perhaps while you’re staying at the Burrow, but then you rarely bother wearing makeup.

Fred insisted on being your subject first. He wasn’t a very good one, though. Rather impatient and very mobile, restless, earning himself a few smacks on the shoulder from you.

Then it was George’s turn. He sat on the bed, facing you, and you shifted to sit as close as possible, to make your job easier. He felt your breath on his face as you scanned it carefully, then you got to work.

It came to his attention he rarely got to see your face from this perspective. Right in front of his eyes, and so close. All of your facial features, so familiar to him, he got to know even better.

“George…” you scolded him gently. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused. Were you talking about something and he wasn’t listening? No, he’d have noticed, he was staring at your lips. “Don’t move away! I can’t do it precisely when you lean back and I have to reach like that.” “I’m not leaning back,” George denied. “You’re leaning back, mate,” Fred pointed out and George realised he was, in fact, involuntarily leaning further back every time your face got closer.

He straightened his back once again and this time your face got pushed away like it was the same magnetic pole as his.

“You’re getting circles under your eyes,” he went to distract you, “you keep staying up lately.” You sighed softly, like you always do when he calls you out on something, but you know he’s right. “I don’t think I’ll have to anymore. Or not much longer, so I’ll get better with my sleep,” you explained. “And are you finally going to tell me what is it, that you were doing?” he asked accusingly. These past few weeks you kept brushing him off with ‘I’ll tell you soon enough’. “Better yet,” you smirked mischievously, “I might show you today if we leave before the sunset. It won’t be as impressive in the dark,” you stated, making the three boys’ curiosity peak.

You carefully put on some finishing touches on George’s lips, careful of the cut. “Voila!” you exclaimed, pulling away to admire your work.

Fred looked at his brother with a frown, then glanced at himself in a mirror. “You did a wonky job on my eyes!” he said, pointing his finger. “Uhh- you did a wonky job staying still,” you replied, grabbing all the necessary products to finish your makeup in front of a mirror. The boys found watching you do it surprisingly satisfying.

 “Oh, and Julie’s coming over later so I’ll be hanging out with her,” Fred noted as the four of you left their dorm. “Congratulations,” George said sarcastically and Fred gave him a look. “So what?” “So, you know what hanging out means. I need you out of the room,” Fred replied, accentuating the last part.

George groaned. He knew he’d be tired after going out and the prospect of not being able to get back to his room for Merlin knows how long was not welcome, but he didn’t argue.

“Oh come on, Merlin knows you should get laid. You’d relax a little,” Fred stated (Lee snorted in the background) and George glared at him, feeling betrayed. Fred looked at your surprised face, “and you too. Both of you, actually,” he added, waving his finger between George and you. (Lee crouched down to avoid collapsing from laughing so hard.)

You and George stared at him with your jaws dropped, mortified. “Oh, my sweet little beans, I didn’t say you have to get laid with each other!” Fred clasped his hands dramatically, “…necessarily,” he added with a sweet, mischievous smile.

George smacked his brother across the head. You started laughing, partly as a defensive reaction, partly because of Lee’s contagious laughter.

 —————⑤—————

 On your way to Hogsmeade, you went off-course a little. You led the boys towards one of the outer sides of the castle, near the clocktower courtyard and a path leading to the lake. Once you were out in the open, it was hard to miss – a huge, windowless, wall, and on it-

“Pink toad can suck a butt?” Lee read out loud. “What is that?!” Fred questioned in disbelief. You crossed your arms on your chest proudly, “Moss graffiti. Alicia and I did this,” you explained gazing once again at your masterpiece. George looked at the writing in amusement, “And you did all this-“ “In the cover of the night, yeah,” you replied before he could finish. “They’ll never catch me,” you whispered theatrically. “It was worth losing a little sleep. It’s so stupid it’s hilarious.”

 —————⑤—————

 By the time you stepped through the gate of Hogsmeade, George’s legs were pretty cold and he concluded that in this temperature a little wind between the legs doesn’t seem so great after all. Looking down at his pink dress, he silently thanked himself for giving in to you when you told him to wear tights because he would’ve felt really stupid right about now.

He looked to his left and could see your wide grin as you bit your bottom lip in excitement, looking around all the decorations. With a little help of magic, your hair was now the exact same shade as Bubbles’, tied in two neat pigtails. Dressed in a very similar dress as his, but blue, you clutched your stuffed octopus to your chest.

You made sure to take a group photo as a souvenir for the future and then commenced your Halloween celebrations. Trick or treating with lots of tricks and playing games, you got complimented on your group-coordinated outfits every now and then. Butterbeer was flowing, candy was consumed and memories were made.

That evening George was thankful as ever for your company in the common room while his twin occupied the dorm.

With most of your energy drained, legs falling out and bellies full of unhealthy snacks, you lay on the couch in front of the fire, talking nonsense.

As both of you grew more sleepy and the pauses in your conversation grew longer, he got lost in his thoughts. Perhaps his brother was right. Perhaps he should just get laid.

Perhaps, he should get over himself.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #weasley twins

[whyiask]

Just a Stupid Dare (ch.8)

Masterpost Ao3 Link tws: u!dark sides, a tiny bit of physical violence but not really notes: okay wow, shortest chapter ever, but shh. anyways, apparently I just accidentally made Roman short and Virgil tall in this fic, so now we’ve got that lovely confirmed height difference. I am absolutely going to exploit this in later chapters.

Virgil’s plan, he decided, absolutely sucked. Roman’s foot slipped again on a precarious foothold. He didn’t know why Virgil had thought it a good idea for him to climb down the side of his house, and he especially didn’t know why he had let himself be talked into it.

He let out a quiet string of curses as his foot slipped again, and pulled himself back up, foot prodding the wall in search of a suitable place that could hold his weight.

He had made it over the roof fairly quickly, crouching low to the ground and walking quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t a very steep roof, so he hadn’t been at much risk of slipping. Climbing down the side of the house was a different story.

Virgil had insisted on him going down a side of the house that wasn’t visible from the street, and so that’s how Roman found himself descending into Virgil’s backyard. How long had it been? Five, ten minutes perhaps. It didn’t matter too much.

Roman jumped down the last few feet, letting out a soft hiss of air at the impact. He straightened and shook out his tense limbs, preparing for the final step of the plan. Soon, in a few minutes, he would be long gone and Janus would never be any the wiser. Roman walked up to the fence surrounding Virgil’s backyard and examined it. Virgil had promised it would be easy to climb.

Roman snorted. Maybe for a giant like him.

It was okay though. Who was he if not a problem solver? Roman braced his foot against the fence and tried to push himself up high enough to grab the top. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he managed to get a grip on the top of the fence. He pulled himself up as high as possible, swinging his legs over the fence and landing with a soft thump.

Something was wrong. It was… quiet all of a sudden. He hadn’t fully realized there was some noise until it was gone and- was that a car in Virgil’s driveway?

He blanched. He recognized that car. It belonged to none other than his step-brother. Slowly, fearfully, he looked up towards Virgil’s front door, where Remus was standing, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar.

Shit.

His brother stormed over and Roman hopped up quickly, not in the mood to be shoved around.

“What the fuck?!?” he yelled as soon as he was within spitting distance.

Roman raised a hand awkwardly. “Hi…?”

Remus grabbed his arm roughly and twisted it slightly, dragging Roman towards the door. He tried not to wince at the pressure.

Shit shit shit, this wasn’t part of the plan.

Remus started pounding on the door like a madman and Roman had to resist rolling his eyes in irritation at his step brother’s antics. The door swung open and Virgil stood before him again. He could see the purple haired boy attempting to keep a shocked expression on his face.

“What-” Virgil started, and if Roman hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed that Virgil was genuinely surprised.

Janus appeared over Virgil’s shoulder, a scarily neutral expression on his face. “Roman Stone,” he said mildly. It sent chills down his back. Janus was infinitely more dangerous when he was calm. “I’d love to say it’s a pleasure to see you here, but it’s not, it’s truly not.” He turned to Remus. “Is there any reason you brought your useless brother along?”

Roman grit his teeth and he felt Remus’s grip on his arm tighten.

“He’s not my brother,” Remus growled.

“Oh right, pardon me,” Janus said lazily, and Roman could tell he didn’t really mean his apology. Janus Flynn never apologized to anyone.

“And I did not bring him,” Remus added. “I saw him crawling out of Virgey’s backyard like an octopus.”

“An octopus?” Roman muttered. He was ignored.

Janus titled his head to look at Virgil out of the corner of his eye.

“I see,” he said.

Virgil fidgeted and Roman felt bad for putting him in this situation. If only I had been more careful.

“Care to explain?” It wasn’t a request.

“I-” Virgil stuttered for a minute, before Roman caught his eye. He paused and quickly made a slight jerking motion with his head towards the door. Roman glanced behind him then back at Virgil in confusion.

‘Run,’ Virgil mouthed in between half explanations directed at Janus.

Roman nodded at sucked in a deep breath. He could do this.

It happened in the blink of an eye. Roman stomped on his step brother’s foot, making the other boy release his arm in a hissed curse. He elbowed Remus in the stomach and shoved him into Janus, before taking off down the street. Virgil watched impassively from the doorway, but when Roman looked back, he could see the glint of a small smile. He kept running and turned the corner, Virgil’s house out of sight.

He would be back, he knew it. A gut feeling told him it wouldn’t be the last time he spent at his friend’s home. Hopefully without interruptions next time.

Once he had gone several blocks, his legs were burning and the adrenaline had worn out, leaving him panting and doubled over, trying to catch his breath, only then did he allow himself to look back.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #ts janus #u!janus #u!remus #not really u!virgil anymore at this point #u!dark sides #princxiety #eventual princxiety #sanders sides au #sanders sides high school au #high school au #multi-chapter fic #slowburn #enemies to lovers #updates wednesdays and sundays #this update is a tiny bit late but shhhh #ask to be on taglist #chapter 8 #just a stupid dare