#He's so interesting! He gets in his own way at a similar rate to working towards his happiness and it's fascinating!!

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

SUMMARY: Steven Grant has come to the devastating conclusion that he was fated to be single forever. Marc didn't care for romance, Jake was only interested in one-night stands, and Steven was--well...Steven.

But when you started working alongside him at the museum's gift shop--a pretty girl younger than him with a bright smile and a cloying kindness he hasn't been the recipient of in a long time--he begins to think that maybe romance is in the cards for him.

Especially when you are just as awkward as him and sinfully lovely.

AKA "the man without love" falls for "the virgin".

RATING: 18+ minors please do NOT interact!!! This fic will contain romance, smut, and generally mature content (though not ALL parts will have explicit smut).

NOTES: I recently rewatched Moon Knight and have been in the mood to write my own fic after reading countless of amazing ones on here, then outta the blue Madonna's song Like A Virgin got stuck in my head and it got me thinking "Huh... This song is cute for Steven if he gets a girlfriend. ACTUALLY WAIT A DAMN MINUTE IT COULD FIT ALL THE MOON KNIGHT BOYS"

And so... Tada! Here's le result~ Although I'm still working out the details, this fic will have ✨️6 PARTS✨️ This fic will PROBABLY be quite self-indulgent, and at times the way the reader is written could be a bit similar to an OC. I'm so sorry if that is the case, but please understand that I'm writing this for fun and I'm just going with the flow!

Some things will also be different from the show. For example, all the boys are actually aware of each other in this fic. I try to stick as close as possible to the source material, but hey this is my fic and like I said I just wanna have fun 😂

Thank you sooo much and I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged and appreciated so please don't be a silent reader!

Now... Join me as I hopelessly thirst over this RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous man both in fiction AND reality \(^o^)/

Part 1: Didn't know how lost I was until I found you

Steven willed his legs to go faster, pushing through London's usual busy morning crowd and into the museum he was cursed to work at. Clutching his bag in one hand, and the other holding his small thermos of coffee as he prayed to any Egyptian god listening that Donna wouldn't catch him this time.

But, of course, the only Egyptian god within Steven's vicinity was Khonshu. And the old bird only cared about how his Moon Knight was upholding his duties as his "Fist of Vengeance", not of his Avatar's petty human responsibilities such as "keeping a job".

"Late again, eh, Stevie?" Donna's annoying voice mocked Steven, pausing in his tracks as he sighed deeply and begrudgingly turned towards his boss.

"Sorry, Donna." He shot the blonde a forced smile, his grip on his thermos tightening. "Got stuck in traffic. You know how it is, yeah?"

"I wouldn't because unlike you, Stevie, I'm never late." Donna returned his fake smile along with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, enough chatter. You've got someone working with you at the gift shop from now on. Maybe this way you won't be late, yeah? Teach her how to actually sell some bloody candy."

Steven opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly cut off when his new co-worker--you--stepped out from behind Donna. You were younger than him, around your twenties, and you were such a shy little thing with your head slightly ducked down. Your E/C eyes peeked out from behind the glasses framing your delicate features, long lashes fluttering as you flashed him a sweet smile. Your fingers fiddled nervously with the pink midi skirt you wore, matching the dainty pink ribbons that tied your H/C hair in two low pigtails.

Your smile faltered as your gaze met Steven's dark brown ones. He remained silent, mouth hanging agape as he stared at you as if you grew two heads. Your eyes lowered, heart threatening to burst right out of your poor chest.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should've ditched the ribbons, you looked ridiculous, right? Why was he staring at you? Oh, god, why was such a HOT guy staring at you?!

"Hello, uh, I'm Steven Grant." Your head snapped up, witnessing the twist of Steven's lips into a kind albeit awkward smile that accompanied a friendly little wave. "Steven..." He seemed to be rethinking his words before, ultimately, the dorky side of him won. "...with a V."

A smile once again bloomed across your face, feeling more at ease this time. "Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. With anxiety!" You chirped the latter a little too cheerfully, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you inwardly slapped yourself. No, punched yourself. "O-Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean that! I-I mean, no, it was just a joke--but a really BAD one, oh god--"

As you rambled nonsensically, Donna arched a judgmental brow at you before noticing the utterly smitten expression on Steven's face as he watched you with a huge goofy grin. Now both of Donna's eyebrows were raised to her hairline before she slowly backed away, leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

At least this time, though, Steven wouldn't be late anymore.

'She's so...'

'Weird.' Marc piped up in Steven's head.

'Amusing.' Jake snickered.

'...lovely.' Steven finished, eyes gleaming the same way it does for Egyptology as he continued to look at you as if you hung the moon in the sky.

He adored you instantly.

♡•••🌙•••♡

It's been two months since you started working at the museum's gift shop. During that time, you and Steven got closer. He discovered that you were a college dropout, reaching a stressful breaking point one day and deciding to just work for the meantime before figuring the rest of your life out. And as it turns out, you weren't so shy after all; once you were out your shell, you were just as big of a dork as Steven was and whenever you two were together, your shift passed by quickly--too quickly.

From the very first moment, you and Steven got along splendidly. He was a complete sweetheart and it always shattered your heart whenever Donna harassed him with any snarky and insensitive remarks.

Steven was used to it so he didn't mind it too much. What he wasn't used to, though, was you. You who was always so kind, lending a listening ear whenever he went on a passionate tangent regarding Egypt and even encouraging him on his dream of becoming the museum's tour guide. You who always graced him with a genuine smile that reached your ears, eyes sparkling whenever you see him as if he was your favourite art piece in the entire museum.

You who always made his heart race, palms sweaty, mind swirling without fail.

You had an intense crush on Steven--a longing, really--but what you didn't know was that he felt the same about you. But perhaps it was more than that. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and it certainly didn't miss Donna's unexpectedly sharp eyes. She'd tease him whenever you left earlier than him, looking like a kicked little puppy as his gaze trailed after you.

Today was no different as he stared helplessly at you, and it was a wonder you didn't feel the invisible daggers boring into you. There were only ten minutes left before you were done for the day and you both were stuck in inventory, but for once in his life he loved doing inventory and he desperately wished that this incredible moment with you, alone, would last forever.

'You're so fucking pathetic, ese.' Jake echoed in Steven's mind.

Nowadays Jake was becoming more vocal, at least when you're around. Marc, on the other hand, remained tight-lipped. The mercenary would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with you at all costs.

'Shut up, mate.' Steven silently argued, brows furrowing as his eyes finally broke away from you and focused on organizing some Taweret plushies.

'Only saying the truth, ese. You've got her all to yourself and the only thing you can think of is that you wish this time would last forever?' Jake scoffed. 'Be a man and step the fuck up. You know you want to, especially with the way she looks today.'

Steven's burning gaze was right back on you, eyes darkening slightly. He hated to admit it, but Jake was right. You were always so pretty, but something about today made you look that much more.

You always dressed modestly, but with the weather warming up lately you opted for a black pleated skirt that fell just above your knees and a tucked in short sleeved yellow blouse with the top few buttons undone exposing the tiniest bit of your cleavage. You also wore matching yellow heels that perfectly accentuated your legs and it made him feral.

"Steven? Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours and a smile instantly curled up his lips, nodding his head as if he wasn't just ogling you like a total perv. "Yes, I just zoned out. Sorry, love." Ugh, the way he called you 'love' so casually had you swooning.

If only he actually meant it.

You nodded back, shoving your thoughts away and returning his smile before glancing towards a portrait. "A shame what they did to this, huh?"

Steven curiously followed your line of sight, seeing a portrait of the Ennead.

"Whoever did this made a major blunder. Isn't the Ennead supposed to have nine gods, not seven?"

"YES!" You flinched slightly at Steven's exclamation, whipping your head towards him only to see him with the cutest blush ever.

"Erm, s-sorry, uh..." Steven cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his unruly locks. "I just got excited. I'm surprised you knew that. Not a lot of people do--or care."

"Well, I happen to know a fantastic teacher always talking about Egyptology." You giggled, grinning at him. "And thanks to him, he's caused me to become interested in it myself and do my own research."

"Really?!" The way his eyes lit up felt as if an arrow was shot straight to your heart, and if you didn't have any self-control you would've dropped to your knees and asked--begged--this gorgeous man to marry you right then and there. "Any particular god or goddess that you're most interested in?"

"Hmm..." You pursed your lips thoughtfully, and Steven had half a mind to kiss them senseless. "I'd have to say Khonshu."

'GOOD ANSWER. KEEP HER, WORM.' Khonshu's thundering voice suddenly boomed in Steven's head.

"She's not a dog, you stupid pigeon." Steven grumbled, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Steven answered quickly, forcing out a laugh. "Err, why Khonshu?"

"Well, I really like Astronomy!" You beamed. "And I find the moon to be one of the most beautiful things in our universe, so it feels fitting for my favourite Egyptian god to be Khonshu."

Despite Steven's distaste (to put it nicely) for the old bird, he could never find your response as such. Not when you looked so happy and comfortable sharing your interests with him, even though he did disagree with just one thing you said.

The moon doesn't even come close to being one of the most beautiful things this universe boasts. No, not when you existed.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm on your wristwatch cruelly popped the blissful little bubble you both were in, you turning it off as you saw that it was the end of your shift.

A regular person would be over the moon that they were finally free from their corporate prison, but not you. Not when you wished you could spend more time with Steven.

"Well..." Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, a pout forming on your lips. "Guess it's time for me to go home."

"It appears so..." Steven mumbled, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched you put away the remaining items you were in charge of.

'It's now or never, Steven. Do something.' Jake urged.

'Do WHAT?'

'Fucking Christ, you're hopeless.' Jake sighed frustratedly, Steven's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he straightened up once more and approached you.

You were faced away from Steven, and you were having difficulty setting the final box of souvenirs you had on a shelf when Steven's hands reached from behind you and easily lifted them.

Your breath hitched, feeling his broad chest pressed against your back. He was so close you could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of your neck, making you gulp.

"T-Thank you, Steven..." You murmured meekly, feeling so small as he had you completely caged. You tried to turn, but his hands suddenly dropped to your hips; keeping you in place with a gentle but firm grip.

"You look so pretty today, Y/N." He leaned down, voice deliciously low as his lips ghosted just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. "But I think you can look even prettier. How 'bout tomorrow you dress all nice, and we can meet up around seven p.m. and have the best steak in town?"

Your thoughts were all jumbled up. Was this really happening or just another one of your silly fantasies? Where the hell did Steven get this sudden confidence from?

And, perhaps you were just imagining it, but he sounded...different. Not quite like the Steven you knew. He had an accent, but not the one you've gotten so familiar with and loved.

But the ache in your heart--and another part of you--was much too strong to bear. You've waited so long for this, dreamt of this, and it was finally coming true.

You definitely made the right decision to dress the way you did today and you sure as hell weren't going to let go of such a grand opportunity.

"I-I'd love to, but..." You placed your hands on top of his own still on your hips, and you wondered if he can tell just how embarrassingly sweaty your palms have gotten. "I...I know you're a vegan, Steven, so let's go somewhere else. There's a new restaurant that just opened and they've got vegan options. Um, y'know, if it's okay with you..."

The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile and he couldn't stop himself as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and revelling in your addicting scent.

"Perfect." He then spun you both around so that his back was against the shelf, but you still couldn't see him. His fingers slowly, teasingly trailed upwards along your stomach before reaching your blouse's breast pocket, slipping off your name tag and putting it in one of your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa." He chuckled huskily, giving you a light push.

You were utterly dazed, cheeks flushed and stumbling in your steps slightly as you exited the room.

'What the bloody hell was THAT?!' Steven panicked.

"What do you think, ese?" Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I just scored you a date."

'Well, I hope you're happy! Y/N looked so shocked!'

"I feel like a million dollars and Y/N looked like she liked it." Jake snickered. "Quit whining like a bitch and just be grateful, Steven. And hey, she even chose some hippie vegan place for you. Doesn't that prove she's into you?"

That immediately shushed Steven, and Jake can feel that despite Steven's complaining Steven was very much overjoyed and was already overthinking the date for tomorrow.

Jake looked down his hands, still remembering the soft curve of your hips even through your clothes and smirked.

You won't be wearing any for long now.

[hllywdwhre]

Blurred Lines

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: You come to Jonathan with a new idea that he’s more than willing to help you test.

Warnings: Ideas any psychological association would frown upon, Jonathan being Jonathan and getting off on fear, I’m gonna be honest I didn’t have the patience to write a lot of plot soo…. You’re getting enough to set up the story but that’s about it, needles, unprotected p in v, technically recording a sex tape but under the guise of ‘it’s for science’, lowkey (highkey) doctor/patient kink, bondage, dirty talk, degradation, light spanking, fingering

Word Count: 3.2K

Notes: I need help and a lot of it

You and Jonathan had worked together at the asylum for a couple months now. You were one of the only therapists that he could stand to work with, and it was purely because you took an interest in his… less than ethical ideas. Your interest in these ideas, mixed with the attraction you held towards him, lead to your own less than ethical idea.

The two of you typically stayed late at the asylum to work on paperwork. Usually, this involved you helping him with his and you teasing him about how you deserved a pay raise for being a psychiatrist and his assistant.

Tonight your teasing was absent as you thought over how to bring the idea up to him. You sat on the opposite side of his desk, sorting through a stack of papers. Deciding to bite the bullet and just spit it out, you cleared your throat and drew his attention to you.

“So, I had an idea about a way to overcome certain phobias,” you said, still looking down at the stack of papers as you flitted through them.

“And what would that be?” Jonathan asked, briefly glancing up at you before returning to his own stack of papers.

“It’s a mix of classical conditioning and exposure therapy.”

“Sounds like something that’s been tried before. Offer a reward to a patient so the patient associates their fear with a positive reinforcement instead of a negative memory,” he said dismissively, brushing you off.

“Yes,” you said, your voice turning hesitant, “but that’s not all for my idea… mine involves a different type of positive reinforcement.”

This seemed to catch his attention. He looked up at you, an eyebrow quirked.

“What type of reinforcement?”

“Well, what are the physical and chemical similarities between fear and arousal?” You asked. Both eyebrows raised as he seemed to catch an idea of where this was going, but he answered your question as if he was clueless just so you would continue explaining.

“They both release adrenaline and cortisol, and they both increase heart rate and breaths per minute.” His voice was calm as he answered, but the way his eyes remained glued to you as he answered revealed his interest.

You nodded your head and continued,

“And when you orgasm, the adrenaline and cortisol mix, along with hormones and chemicals specific to sex. You get a state of temporary bliss which can lead to the person experiencing the orgasm even developing fond feelings towards their partner. My idea would capitalize on those feelings of post-orgasmic bliss and use them to help people overcome their fears.” The words came out rushed but they had captured his attention even further.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, the paperwork on his desk long forgotten now as he studied you and let the idea run wild through his mind.

“The theory is an interesting one, I’ll give you that,” he said, pausing for a moment before adding on, “but who would be willing to have this theory tested on them?”

A blush tinted your cheeks and you looked away from him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, it’s just a bit difficult to test… alone,” you said in a voice that was just barely audible.

He stood up from behind his desk and came to stand in front of you, one hand going under your chin to force you to look at him.

“I thought you had lost the ability to surprise me when you found out about my fear toxin, but here we are,” his voice trailed off as he continued to take you in. You could see his mind working a mile a minute behind his eyes as he went over your idea again and again in his head. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again, “I’ll help you test this, but only on certain conditions.”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. You didn’t know what you had expected his reaction to be, but a willingness to test your theory with you wasn’t how you thought he’d respond.

“What are they?” You asked.

“Firstly, I’m not blind. I know you didn’t just come to me with this idea because of my own unethical ideas. This entire experiment involves sexual attraction being needed, and I’ve noticed the way you look at me.” Your cheeks darkened even more as he called you out on your attraction to him, and this only made him chuckle. “If we do this experiment, I’m the only one who gets to see you like that. No one else.”

You resisted the urge to tease him and ask if this was his way of asking you to be his girlfriend, knowing it would get you nowhere and somewhat fearing the answer. Instead, you nodded your head once to say you understood.

“Next, we’d have to record these sessions. Neither of us are going to be in a clear enough space of mind to pay much attention to anything else during the session,” he said.

You nodded again. You knew you definitely weren’t going to be able to concentrate on anything aside from him during the session.

“Lastly, we’d have to do these sessions at my personal lab. Meaning you’d be seeing where I live along with a multitude of other things that I’ll need your word you won’t say anything about.”

“I haven’t said anything about your fear toxin, have I?” You pointed out, causing him to chuckle again and shake his head.

“No, I suppose you haven’t,” he admitted.

“Not to mention that you’re literally going to have a sex tape of me. If I said anything about this, both of our careers would be ruined,” you added on.

“I take it that means you agree to my terms?” He asked.

“Yes, I do,” you confirmed.

“Then how would you feel about starting the first session tonight? It’s a long weekend so neither of us have work on Monday in case you need an extra day to recover,” he offered, causing another look of surprise to rise on your face.

“I-uh, o-okay,” you stuttered out, watching as the familiar smirk grazed his lips.

The two of you gathered your things and made your way out to his car with him telling you he would bring you by to pick up your car the next day, but that there were a couple more things he wanted to go over with you on the ride there. You both put in place a safe word, deciding to use the color system. If everything was okay and he checked in on you, the color was green. If you needed things to slow down, you could say yellow at any time. And if you needed things to come to a complete stop, you could say red. He also informed you that there were already security cameras recording his lab, so both of your every moves would be recorded the entire time.

When you arrived back at his house, you followed him inside, taking in the area while he led you to his personal lab. You followed him through the doorway and down to the basement, entering into a room that looked exactly like a lab. You could see where it was once just a finished basement, but now there were tables full of various chemicals and, in the corner, a doctor’s examination bed, along with plenty of other things scattered throughout the room.

Plenty of questions flooded your mind, but you thought better than to ask them. The less you knew about what he did outside of work, the better.

“You said your fear was needles, correct?” He asked, causing you to turn and look at him.

“Yes. No particular reason for the fear, though,” you answered.

“I’ll gather everything if you want to go sit down and get ready,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion, as if you were just another patient he was treating.

You stripped naked and sat on the table, feeling what you were sure was going to be a permanent blush on your face.

Jonathan walked over a moment later with a tray that was covered and set the tray on the table. Despite the way he was trying to remain somewhat professional, you noticed the way his eyes raked over your figure, taking in every inch of you.

“Do,” he stopped and cleared his throat, another sign that he was affected by this the same as you were, “do you think you’ll need to be restrained?” He asked.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the teasing comment leave your lips,

“I don’t think I’d need to be restrained, but I’m okay with a bit of bondage if you are,” you said, a smirk making its way across your lips as you spoke.

Jonathan’s eyes shot to yours and you felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the way you had been able to catch him off guard.

“Quite the little minx, aren’t you?” He asked in a teasing tone of his own.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Crane. Being tied up is just the tip of the iceberg.” With every sign of attraction towards you Jonathan let show, you felt your confidence boost, and this only seemed to spur him on.

He came to stand in front of your naked form, looking down at you and placing a hand under your chin again to keep you from looking away.

“Seems like it,” he agreed. His hand went from under your chin to the back of your neck, “maybe I’ve finally met my match,” he commented before pulling you to him.

Jonathan’s lips met yours in a hungry kiss and the last of your insecurity faded quickly. He kissed you as if he was a starved man and you were the only thing that could satiate his hunger. His tongue slid past your lips as he laid you back on the examination bed and crawled onto it himself. Your hands made their way to his hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a moan from him.

One of his hands went to your hair and pulled, exposing your neck to him. He left a line of kisses down it while nipping at random spots before he continued down further.

“F-fuck, Jonathan,” you moaned out when his mouth attached to one of your nipples.

His hand left your hair to play with your other nipple before he traded off and took your other one into his mouth, letting his tongue dart around it at the same time that his hand trailed between your legs.

“A bit of kissing and having your tits played with you gets you this worked up?” He taunted as he felt just how wet you were already, “Or did the idea of me strapping you to this table and doing as I please with you have something to do with it?”

Another moan fell from your lips as he teased you and began to rub gentle circles on your clit.

“Please, Jonathan,” you whined, your hips pushing against his hand as you desperately tried to get him to apply more pressure than the faint touches he was currently using.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said in a voice of faux sympathy before pulling his hand away. Before you could protest, he was strapping your wrists to the side of the table and crawling off of you to do the same to your legs.

Your legs were hanging off the edge of the table and bent at the knee and he crouched down to strap your ankles in place. There was no way for you to close your legs from him, leaving you on display.

When he stood back up again, there was an almost predatory look in his eyes as he took you in.

“All tied up for me,” he commented, trailing his hand along your inner thigh as he spoke, “a perfect little toy.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the pet name and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“All those times I caught you staring at me and I couldn’t figure out why,” be continued teasing, his fingers beginning to rub at your clit again and causing another moan to leave you, “who would’ve known it was you fantasizing about me tying you up and leaving you completely helpless to whatever I decided to do with you?”

With his free hand, he picked up something off of the tray he brought over earlier and revealed the object to you. It was an empty syringe and you felt your heart lurch when your eyes landed on the needle.

A slap was delivered to your inner thigh, causing your eyes to shoot back over to him,

“Eyes on me. You’re my toy, you watch me, not the needle. Understood?”

You nodded your head but another slap was delivered to the opposite thigh,

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you replied, stopping yourself before you said ‘sir’ and giving him a sly smirk, “yes, Doctor.”

The firm look he had been giving you changed. His eyes darkened and you could see the way he hadn’t expected for the use of his title in that manner to affect him so much.

“Such an obedient little thing,” he praised after a moment before pushing two fingers into you. He immediately curled them upward and caused you to let out another moan. “Such an obedient and twisted little thing. I lead you into my basement, tie you down, and give you a couple slaps and you’re this wet already? I could only imagine how you’d react if I got to treat you exactly how I wanted.”

The entire time he spoke, he was thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making sure to curl them and hit that spot inside you every time while your pathetic moans and whimpers continued filling the space.

“Then again, judging by the way you’re reacting to this, you’d probably get off on it.”

His words should’ve caused some amount of shame inside you, but at the same time they registered in your head, you felt the cold touch of the needle trailing down your cheek and towards your neck. The sensation caused you to freeze for a moment, but when his fingers curled inside you and he used his thumb to begin rubbing at your clit, the shame left your mind.

“Fuck, darling, you might’ve been onto something combining fear and sex,” he said with a chuckle, “Especially if you clench around my cock the way you clenched around my fingers.”

You felt your mind and body battle with themselves as he continued to trail the needle down your body while his fingers continued to work at you. The needle’s presence sent your body into fight or flight, but with nowhere to go, you became keenly aware of every sensation. You could hear the rumble in his voice and the feeling of Jonathan’s fingers inside of you seemed to be amplified, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm already.

“There we go,” he coaxed, “let the pleasure and fear blur together. Cum on my fingers like the good little slut you are while I’ve got a needle pressed against you, and maybe I’ll let you cum on my cock.”

Fuck, you knew there was something wrong with you, but you couldn’t care less. Jonathan’s dirty talk, the unrelenting rhythm of his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and the presence of the needle heightening your senses caused your orgasm to hit you full force.

Your head fell back on the bed as you moaned out and you felt the needle press against your tied up arm. The pace of Jonathan’s fingers never faltered as he pushed you through your orgasm and let you ride out your high.

When he finally did remove them, your head was spinning and your breathing was heavy. It was the sound of his belt hitting the floor that grabbed your attention and caused you to look down at him.

“You have no idea how much control it took for me to not ruin our first session and drop the needle and go ahead and fuck you,” he said, stepping between your legs.

“Thought you said I was your toy? Sounds like that makes it your decision on when you fuck me,” you commented through the haze of your mind.

“It does,” he said, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds, “and I wanted to see the way you looked when you couldn’t decide if fear or lust was going to win out before I fucked every thought out of that pretty little head of yours.”

Whatever response you had was lost as he pushed his cock into you. Your jaw fell slack and a pathetic mix of a whine and moan filled the room as he filled every bit of you. His hands gripped your hips and he gave you just enough time to adjust to the way his cock felt inside of you before he was setting a brutal pace.

A symphony of his name and curses left your mouth and he seemed to revel in the way you sounded and looked beneath him.

“God damn,” he swore, “it’s like your cunt was made for me,” he said while his hand came down to rub at your clit, watching the way your back arched off the table.

“Please, Doctor,” you begged, not even sure what you were begging for.

He sped up the pace of his thrusts and removed his other hand from your hip to begin rolling your nipple in between his fingers, going back and forth between the two.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He taunted, “for me to tie you down and fuck you? For me to use you however I wanted?”

“Y-yes, Doctor,” you stuttered out between moans, feeling your orgasm creep up on you again.

“Such a good little toy. Getting off on being reminded of your place with me,” he chuckled, “Go ahead then. Cum on my cock and prove how much you want to be my little fuck toy.”

It didn’t take much longer for your back to arch off the table again, his fingers still rubbing at your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

Once he was sure you had ridden out your high, Jonathan’s thrusts sped up and he began chasing his own, cumming inside you after only a moment longer.

The both of you took a couple moments to catch your breath and then he was pulling out of you. He undid your restraints and helped you to sit up, making sure you were okay before kissing you again.

“I meant what I said back at the asylum,” he said against your lips, “No one else.”

You shook your head the slightest bit, still kissing him in between his words, “I don’t want anyone else. I came to you with the idea for a reason.” You pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes, a playful look crossing your face as you spoke again, “Besides, I can’t wait to see your reaction as you learn more of what I’m into if that was the reaction I got for something as simple as being tied up.”

Jonathan chuckled and shook his head slightly,

“You little minx,” he muttered, kissing you once more.

[oh-stars]

Boring

Love is wanting to tell someone every little detail of your day and wanting to hear about theirs.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1309 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

Steve isn’t exciting. He knows this, he’s always known this. It’s why he hides behind fake smiles and follows the same beat as the rest of his peers rather than finding his own path like Eddie. He follows the local teams because that’s what everyone else did; he listens to pop music because that’s what’s played at parties and the first thing he hears when he turns on the radio; he wears boring clothes because his mom buys it for him and he actually likes how they look on him. 

It’s not something he put a lot of thought into until he started hanging out with Dustin and his friends, only growing when Robin came into his life and then it became this glaringly obvious problem when Eddie took an interest in him as a friend. Steve likes the mainstream, everyday boring shit that makes him blend into his peers, and fully fade to the background when he’s around his wonderfully eccentric new family. 

And now that he and Eddie are more than friends, Steve feels even more inadequate. 

His date ideas are cheesy and stereotypical. His ambitions in life start and stop at having a family in the future (which has changed since he was a kid – now he doesn’t equate having a family to a wife and 2.5 kids, but rather a cozy little life with his partner, maybe a few pets, and any nieces or nephews the party gives him. As long as he has Robin in his life and a partner, be it a wife or husband, who actually loves him, he’ll be content). Steve doesn’t have any passions he can turn into a career, and the few he did have, it’s far fetched or his body couldn’t keep up anymore even if he had the chance. 

Then there’s Eddie who shines so brightly and takes up so much space with every ounce of his personality. He has so many hobbies that could become actual careers, too many choices for him to pick from that there have been plenty of nights where he’s stayed up and talked Steve in circles over his choices. He has such strong opinions about everything, could rant for days about the lint he found in the dryer if he needed to. Nancy always says he’d be a great Phillip-buster, whatever that is, because he can just keep going without losing steam. 

He’s incredible and Steve is decidedly not. 

It’s something he ponders on his way home, nodding along to the Springsteen song playing on the radio as he heads for the trailer. It’s been a great day, one of Steve’s better ones lately, and he’s itching to revel in its many wonders with Eddie when he gets home. Nothing exciting happened, just a lot of little, wonderful moments that feel perfect to Steve. 

But they’re boring. He knows that. 

When he was a kid, he used to hear his grandparents talk about the most mundane things. His grandmother would fill his grandpa in on all the gossip she gathered from their neighbor or the way the price of milk went up at Bradley Big Buy. She’d have serious conversations with him about whether they should switch grocery stores or if going to one of the farms directly for their produce was a better idea. And in turn, he’d complain about the squeaky wheel on the mail cart at work or would go into detail about how lovely the lunch she packed him was, complimenting the sandwich like it was made of gold. 

They were the perfect couple in Steve’s eyes. He’s always wanted what they have. But his grandparents were so similar, they shared interests in ways that Steve and Eddie don’t. On paper, Steve and Eddie should clash and he knows opposites attract and all, but it doesn’t mean you want a life with them. 

So he holds in his excitement about his day. He’s just happy to have Eddie to come home to at all, that he’s allowed to just walk into the trailer and be a part of Eddie’s life. 

He parks next to Eddie’s van and pockets his keys. 

Eddie’s waiting for him by the door, perched on the dining chair. “Thought you’d be coming home soon,” Eddie says with a grin as he pops up. He loops his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses him, so sweet and soft. Another addition to Steve’s perfect day. 

Steve can’t keep the smile off his face. “I missed you,” he says, even though it’s probably too much, too sappy for Eddie. 

Instead of wrinkling his nose and making a snide comment, Eddie’s arms tighten around him as he beams, eyes crinkling with how wide his smile is. “I missed you too.” Another kiss, this one a little longer and deeper before Eddie’s pulling away with a peck. “C’mon. I’ve been losing my mind being here all by myself,” he laments, hanging from Steve a little. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks as Eddie straightens up to drag Steve to the couch. He gets pushed onto one side as Eddie takes the other, sitting cross-legged and sideways so he can stare directly at Steve. 

“Okay,” Eddie says seriously, “tell me everything.” 

“What?” 

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee. “About your day. I want the…” His brow furrows as he looks up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as he thinks. “What’s the sports thing I’m thinking of? With the scripts?” 

Steve cocks his head to the side. “A play?” 

“Yes!” Eddie snaps his fingers and bounces a little. “I want the play-by-play.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, quiet despite the way his heart is picking up. “It was just a day at Family Video. It’s not like I’m a doctor or something more exciting.” 

Eddie leans forward and cups his hands over Steve’s face. “Everything you do is exciting to me, baby. I like seeing the world through your eyes. So yes, tell me everything,” he says, leaning forward with each word as he squishes Steve’s cheeks. He ends it with another peck, then two more like he can’t help himself. 

Steve laughs, but twists his body to mirror Eddie’s. “It’s been a great day,” he admits, eyes drawn to the loose thread on Eddie’s cushion. “Robin brought me coffee from that new shop on Main and her dad dropped off donuts for us on his way to work. Then Mrs. Peterson came in and she wasn’t a demonic she-beast from the underworld and was actually lovely for once,” Steve says. 

“Mrs. Peterson?” Eddie gasps. “The same woman who yelled at me for almost two hours for biking through her yard as a kid?” 

“The very one,” Steve says. “I think Rob and I were both too stunned to speak for a good thirty minutes after.” 

Eddie shakes his head, eyes bright with genuine interest – almost like he’s mystified. “See, this is the shit I wouldn’t believe if it came from anyone else but you.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks, softer but not harsh like he thought it would sound. Not that he wants to – he just knows how he comes off sometimes. 

“You,” Eddie says, poking Steve’s chest, “are special. You always bring the best out of people, man. Including grouchy old ladies who sold their souls to the devil for fresh gardenias in their flowerbeds.” 

Steve laughs and tilts forward so he’s practically in Eddie’s lap. They shift quietly so Steve’s laying on Eddie fully, arms wrapped around his middle. “You make it sound like I’ve got something exciting to say. It’s just boring shit.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. You, Steve Harrington, are so far from boring,” Eddie whispers against his ear. 

And deep down, Steve thinks he may actually believe him. 

Steve lifts his head to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “Your turn. Tell me something about your day.” 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[thequeendesi]

Piercings

Title: Piercings

Alt Title: A Wincing Bitch

Warnings: swearing, you used to live in Andalsuia, AL, and work as a body mod artist, ashtray is still alive. Ty. And he’s 14 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Disclaimer; I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise. I just own the fic.

Rating: PG

You hummed to yourself, music playing on the radio. Your body moves on instinct as you set up for your client’s piercing. You lip synced to the lyrics as you moved everything the way you preferred. You moved to the front room as you led back ‘Ashtray’ and his older brother, Fez.

“Alright baby, go ‘head and sit there for me.” You pointed at the chair as you put your gloves on. “You ever gotten a nose piercing before?” You asked him.

“Nah.” He answered. “Alright. So the way I do it is I give you three dots. You can choose from the three dots where you’d prefer it, and if my dots don’t do it, you can.” You said to him.

“Mhm.” He nodded. You grabbed your toothpick and dipped it in the ink. You moved his chin with your index finger and leaned in a little.

“Dot. Dot. Dot.” You said, as you placed a triangle dotting pattern. You handed him your handheld mirror.

“Second dot.” He said. “Alright.” You smiled at him.

“So I know you wanted a hoop. But, I gotta pierce you with the standard post and head.” You said, grabbing the needle. He nodded and leaned back.

“Why no hoop?” Fez spoke up. “Well, standard piercing practice says no hoop for six weeks. Can cause unnecessary damage during the healing process.” You explained.

“Makes sense.” He nodded. “Alright, sugar.” You angled his head and aligned the tube to where your needle will come out. His eyes clenched shut.

“Say ‘when’.” You said, aligning the needle.

“When?” He asked, opening an eye to look at. “Alright.” You shrugged, and pushed the needle through, piercing the boy’s nose. “Ouch.” He seethed, closing his eyes again.

“Oh hush. It didn’t hurt.” You said, pulling the thread through and disconnected the needle.

“How do you know it ain’t hurt?” He asked, a tear involuntarily slipping. “I didn’t feel a thing.” You shrugged, attaching the jewelry to the thread and finishing the piercing process up by screwing on the head.

Fez laughed a little.

“If you wanna laugh, you can get pierced too.” You said, taking off your gloves.

“Bet.” Fez shrugged.

“What?” You said, disposing of the needle, tube and thread into the disposable basket.

“Why not. If my brother can do it, I should too. Support him, or whatever.” He said.

“You sure you just don’t want me in your business?” You asked, spraying disinfectant on your piercing tray.

“Could be that.” He smiled at you.

“Alright.” You said to him.

“Y’all flirting?” Ashtray asked Fez. “Move man.” He said. “Lil’ ma tryna clean and you’re still sittin’ there.” Fez said. “Go look at your piercing baby.” You said, patting his shoulder.

“Your voice got a twang to it. Where you from?” Fez asked.

“Don’t look at me weird when I say it.” You said. “Andalusia.” You said, spraying the chair down and wiping it.

“Where’s that?” The younger asked. “It’s a small-ish town in Alabama.” You answered, setting up for Fez’s piercing.

“Whatcha doing in East Highland, California?” Fez asked. “Wanted to make a name for myself. Didn’t expect to live in Alabama forever.” You shrugged. “You like it here?” He asked another question.

You motioned for him to sit. “Yea. It’s interesting.” You shrugged. “How old are you?” Ashtray asked.

“18.” You said, placing the same amount of dots and similar style on Fez’s nose.

“You just a year younger than me.” Fez said, looking in the mirror you handed him as soon as you did.

“You’re younger than I expected.” You said. “You always wanted to do piercings?”

“Yea.” You nodded. “I’m apprenticing for my tattooing too.” You said. “You makin’ good money?”

“You two ask a lot of questions.” You laughed a little. “This one.” Fez pointed at one.

“I make pretty good money.” You nodded. “You make good money doing whatever it is you do?” You asked him. “You could say that.” Fez said.

You aligned the tube where the needle will come out. “Alright, I gotta question for you.” You said. “You know what a wincing bitch sounds like?” You asked.

“Na-A-Ouch!” Fez winced as you pushed the needle through and discarded the tube as you chased the thread through. “I guess you do.” You shrugged a little and inserted the post and screwed in the head.

“Fuck…”

“Alright boys, listen up.” You took off your gloves and placed your hands on your hips.

“No touching, no nose candy, no swimming.” You said. A warning you tell everyone. “Six weeks to change it out. Please come here before you try it yourself. I’ll even change it for free, so long as you bring or buy the jewelry.” You said, disposing of the needle and thread and tube.

“What if I wanna see you before six weeks is up?” Fez asked, standing up to look at his nose in the mirror.

“Make an appointment, or, ask me on a date.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“What’s that number?” He asked, giving you his phone to put your number in it. You smiled a little and put your number and name in it.

“I’ll text you date details tonight ma.” He said, putting two crisp hundred dollar bills, and walked out with Ashtray.

[mshroom1e]

ೃ⁀➷ Crushing on You

type: headcanons

twst characters with a crush on the reader

1.3k words

Characters: Azul, Sebek, Kalim, Rook, Deuce

╰┈➤ Azul

He would be absolutely whipped and wouldn't even realise until he sees you, stops, and thinks 'oh wait.'

Jade would be the first to notice Azul's change in behaviour.

He's the type to get so into his feelings that it affects his performance at school even though he doesn't intend for it to.

He'd probably fall off his broom in PE class when he sees you walking around nearby.

I'm all for shy Azul and that's what he would be (because I said so)

He'd try so hard to make everything about himself presentable when you're around.

Since he collects so much information about people, he tries to find out everything about you through the info he's acquired instead of talking to you and asking like a regular person.

Prolly tried to rope you into some sort of contract where you had to work in the lounge so he'd have a solid excuse to spend time with you.

Someone please tell him about normal communication.

Once he's had time to understand his own feelings, he tries his best to get closer to you.

Invites to try new menu items at Mostro Lounge would become more frequent.

Overall, he'd be very genuine with his feelings once he's come to terms with them.

I don't think he'd mind if you didn't reciprocate the exact feelings he felt towards you, but that doesn't mean he isn't hoping you feel the same way.

Sometimes, his insecurities from the past would bubble up in his mind, telling him that you think negatively of him, but he tries his best not to think like that.

╰┈➤ Sebek

Sebek 💀

I-

First of all, he wouldn't even think that he had feelings for you at all. Especially since you're such a simple-minded, pathetic HUMAN

Interprets his sped up heart rate when you're around as some sort of illness and decides to ask Lilia about it.

He describes his "symotoms" and the older fae knows exactly what he's talking about as soon as Sebek mentions your name, so peepaw stifles a laugh the whole time as Sebek is lamenting about his newfound "heart malfunction"

When Lilia tells him it's a crush, Sebek is mortified.

His already little control of his inside voice goes out the window as he yells "PERPOSTEROUS" or something similar.

He's panicking, screaming, kicking, all of the above.

"Woe is me!!" is all he thinks for the rest of the day until he goes to bed lol

The whole thing would look like a comedy sketch from an outsider's point of view

Poor kid would be so obvious, and your entire friend group would know before you do.

Sebek would be horrified when he sees you anywhere and instantly turn the other direction then curse himself for being afraid of a mere human.

Kinda like a little kid with a crush

He'd make some mean comments that come out as compliments without meaning to and everything would turn into a one-sided fight where Sebek loses.

Considers his feelings for you as some tratourus act towards Malleus.

He would refuse to tell you about how he feels.

You'd end up realising it yourself after someone hints at it.

It would be a mess, but a very funny and cute one.

╰┈➤ Kalim

the literal sun

Kalim would be the most genuine person ever.

He'd see his feelings as friendship, and not think too much of it after that. He thinks you're one of the most amazing people he's ever met.

He's very big on giving gifts and sometimes it might be a bit much.

The gifts he gives aren't with the intention of showing off, though. They're simply things you've mentioned that you liked or were interested in, and Kalim just had to get them to show you how much you were appreciated.

Once you express that the gifts you've been receiving from him are a bit much, he instantly understands. After that, he gives you things with more sentimental meanings behind them like handmade bracelets. They're not the best-looking at the moment, but they're from the heart, and that'd what counts.

After he's made you a bracelet or two, he finds that he really likes making them. With practice, he gets a lot better and gifts you more intricate looking little trinkets.

With Kalim around, you can never be on an empty stomach. He always has snacks on him that he pulls out of nowhere on a regular basis. All of them are delicious but his favourite ones to give you are crackers.

He doesn't get flustered when talking to you, just very happy and enthusiastic.

You get along so well, whether as friends or something more.

When he realises he has a crush on you, he gets so excited.

Expect to receive regular invites to the parties he hosts at his dorm and for him to hang out with you a lot more.

After all, he really likes you and wants to get to know you even better.

╰┈➤ Rook

To be honest, I feel like Rook wouldn't be too different from how he usually acts around people.

He still knows everything about you from your dominant hand to the thing you ate for breakfast that day.

He'd show up around you more than usual, offering you flowers and other small gifts that remind him of you.

You wouldn't think it was anything out of the ordinary since it was Rook after all.

Always does small gestures that make your life easier, like removing objects that would obstruct your path before you get near them or even realise what he's done, or tying your shoelaces for you when they come undone.

He spends a lot of time observing you, but not in a creepy way. It's just because He just finds you endearing and wants to see you just being your beautiful self.

Smiles at you a lot

You could be walking down a hallway and realise you left something at your dorm, but Rook would just happen to be nearby with the item you need.

When he found out about your favourite sweets, he bought a packet and carries them around with him so he can give them to you when he sees you.

He loves the way your eyes light up when you see the sweets in his hand and you take them with a huge smile on your face.

Rook would be a very sweet and well-prepared admirer that wouldn't hesitate to offer you help or just simple reassurance when you need it.

Like Azul, he wouldn't mind if you didn't feel the same way that he does and is just happy that he gets to admire you and see you happy.

╰┈➤ Deuce

Deuce you sweet summer child.

He would be so clumsy over everything and it would be the cutest thing ever.

Most likely practices what he's gonna say to you in the mirror every morning, which annoys his roommates a lot.

Messes up with his words when he talks to you and instantly flushes.

He tries to take the lead during assignments to seem smarter and impress you but fails miserably.

Please, he's really trying his best.

He can't control how stiff his face gets when talking to you and how flustered he gets.

His ears definitely go red first.

Accidentally ends up raising his voice out of nervousness when he's talking and physically cannot make eye contact with you or he'd explode.

He tries to do gentlemanly things like helping you carry large piles of books. It's not because he thinks you can't carry them yourself, he just wants an excuse to spend more time with you.

If your favourite dessert was available in the cafeteria and there was only one left, he wouldn't hesitate to buy it and hand it over to you.

He gives you cute chick themed gifts and sends you cute animal memes.

If you showed up at one of his track meets, best believe he's speeding off like sonic and blowing away everyone else at practice.

When he wins a race, he instantly turns to look for you in the stands and instantly smiles at you when he sees you.

Deuce would be so shy and sweet and it would be so cute jekrjrktktn

◁--《

[mimisempai]

The greatest gift of all

Summary

Crowley has had to resign himself to spending his birthday in the airport coffee shop because of bad weather, but he meets a companion of misfortune. 

Are a few hours spent together in a waiting room enough to change an entire life?

Notes

I am fan of aiport meet-cute, so here you go. Hope you'll enjoy it!

On Ao3

Rating G - 2945 words

Crowley could have raged at the airline for not wanting to take any risks, at the bad weather and even at this damned conference,

but he knew he wouldn't change a thing; he was stuck in the airport coffee shop and he'd better make this night of waiting productive, his arrival in time for his own birthday party now definitely in jeopardy. He'd already phoned his sibling and his ears were still ringing from their protests and complaints. He took another sip of his coffee and told himself that at least he'd been lucky enough to get a good seat, meaning a comfortable seat and, most importantly, a seat with phone and computer connections that would allow him to work on his next conference.

Besides, there was something comforting about the fact that he wasn't the only one in this situation. Not long after he'd settled in, he'd seen a man rush in who seemed at least as relieved as Crowley to find a place similar to his own.

Crowley hadn't noticed him at all, not his sparkling eyes, his devastating smile, or the slightly tousled light hair that gave him a charming air.  Nor had he noticed the way he moved, as if he were dancing all the time, drawing the eye to a body that was not without its charms.

Of course, Crowley hadn't noticed any of this, because Crowley wasn't that shallow.

That didn't stop him from occasionally looking up from his laptop to sneak a peek at the other man. After an hour, he even found it amusing that although they didn't speak, they shared a kind of bond, displaying the same facial expressions when a child was too noisy or when a customer expressed his displeasure too loudly. Crowley began to think, absurdly, that he had a connection with this man. And even more absurdly, he found himself wanting to make that connection, but he thought about the circumstances, the "ifs" and "hows," and decided to forget about it. After all, since when did Crowley approach strangers out of nowhere?

So he focused on his laptop screen and continued working. 

A few minutes later, however, he was pulled out of his concentration not by the other man, but by an old lady who entered the cafe, desperate for a place to charge her cell phone - since when do old people have cell phones - and who said she was trying to contact her family. She trudged from table to table, exhaustion written all over her face. Sighing, Crowley was about to get up and offer her his seat when he saw that the light-haired man had beaten him to it and was offering the old lady his seat with a kind smile. He even went so far as to help her settle in, not leaving with his belongings until he was sure the old lady was comfortable.

Crowley wasn't particularly sociable and generally minded his own business, but the way the other man had behaved with the old lady had touched him, and he surprised himself by raising his hand to wave as the other man made his way to the counter.

When the light-haired man's eyes fell on Crowley, he motioned for him to come closer. The other man looked surprised - pleasantly surprised, Crowley hoped - and a broad smile appeared on his face, revealing dimples that renewed Crowley's interest.

When the man reached him, he said in a low voice that sounded slightly amused, "Hello, there."

He was exactly what Crowley had imagined.

Pointing to the seat in front of him, Crowley said, "I thought maybe you could sit here and we could share this prized possession. Then, holding out his hand, he added, "Anthony Crowley."

The man took Crowley's hand and squeezed it firmly as he replied, "Aziraphale Fell." Somehow his fingers seemed to brush Crowley's wrist for a moment, their hands lingering as their gaze remained fixed, then he added with a gentle smile, "Thank you for your generosity."

"Well, you were the one who was generous to the old lady in the first place."

"Oh, that hardly counts."

"It counted for her."

Crowley leaned over to push his luggage away, making room for Aziraphale to sit across from him. The man pulled out a spiral notebook, pencil, and eraser, which he placed on the table, then settled more comfortably into his seat and asked with a smile far too charming for Crowley's peace of mind, "So, Anthony, may I offer you a cup of coffee by way of thanks? "

"With pleasure, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale's eyes lit up and Crowley denied any feeling of butterflies in his stomach. A feeling he found hard to deny as it grew in the hours that followed.

Crowley had never realized how much truth there was in the saying that time flies when you're in good company. For time had flown with Aziraphale.

His companion was funny and witty, and Crowley wasn't sure if what amazed him most was the way Aziraphale showed his emotions so openly, the way they talked as if they'd known each other all their lives, or the way Aziraphale touched him so easily when he wanted to back up his words with a gentle squeeze of his hand or arm. Or now, the way Aziraphale slipped in next to him so they didn't have to speak loudly, the way he touched his thigh or leaned his head against him when he laughed out loud.

They spent the whole time discussing movies, literature, music, the conference Crowley had attended, the art exhibition Aziraphale had to go to, all the while commenting on the customers passing through the coffee shop. It was honestly one of the best evenings Crowley had spent since... well, that said a lot about him that he couldn't even remember ever having such a good time.

Aziraphale had at one point joked that their meeting was worthy of one of those rom-coms Crowley had said he loved so much, and Crowley found himself thinking the same thing as time went on.

After the coffee shop closed, they stayed together and tacitly made their way to an empty waiting room with deckchairs and blankets. In the half-light, they moved the chairs closer together and, lying down and covering themselves, continued to talk, broaching more personal subjects, feeling, without really understanding why, more and more at ease with each other.

Aziraphale spoke of always feeling different, apart, not always in tune with the people of his generation, of his not always happy childhood between an unloving father and a mother who died too soon, but he had also spoken with such joy of his bookshop, the street it was on, all his shopkeeper friends who had replaced his absent family and accepted him as he was. In response, Crowley had spoken of his adoptive sibling, Muriel, of their close relationship because they were both orphans, of his passion for the stars and the joy of making it his profession, of his odd passion for ducks, and had been surprised once again that Aziraphale had listened to him seriously and not once made fun of what he had said.

They both spoke of their loneliness and lack of a stable relationship, finding another common ground, another connection.

Then, without realizing it, lulled by the soft whisper of Aziraphale's voice, the warmth of his body that he could feel radiating from him, and his soothing presence, Crowley had fallen asleep.

He was awakened by the sensation of a brush on his forehead and a small pressure on his shoulder as his companion said softly, "Anthony...wake up."

The smell of coffee reaching his nostrils completed his awakening. He looked at his watch, shocked that he had slept for almost an hour. He'd never let his guard down like that, let alone with someone he'd just met. It spoke volumes about how quickly his feelings for his new friend were growing.

He straightened in his chair and took the steaming mug Aziraphale handed him with a gentle smile.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got us this."

Crowley asked in surprise, "You were awake the whole time?"

Aziraphale nodded. 

Crowley smiled and said approvingly, "You really are an angel, first the old lady you gave up your seat to, then offering me coffee and watching over my sleep.

"The sight was pleasant," Aziraphale replied in deflection, clearly embarrassed by the compliment, before adding teasingly, "but the snoring was quite unbearable."

Crowley exclaimed, "What?! But I don't sno-" he paused as Aziraphale burst out laughing.

"I changed my mind, you're a little devil."

He joined in his new friend's laughter when suddenly they were both interrupted by the voice from the loudspeakers. 

The air traffic will resume shortly.

Flight XXX to Glasgow Airport will be boarding in 30 minutes, please proceed to the gate.

Flight XXX to Cardiff Airport will be boarding in 45 minutes, please proceed to the gate.

They didn't listen as all traces of joy disappeared from their faces along with their laughter, for it was their respective flights that had just been announced. With a single movement, they began to pack their belongings, put their coats back on, and found themselves face to face, unable to say a word, unable to make a gesture. Unable to take their eyes off each other. 

Aziraphale was the first to break contact, glancing at their belongings. "I can watch your stuff if you still want to go to the restroom."

Crowley nodded and agreed. Anything to prolong the connection.

In the restroom, he took the opportunity to freshen up while he debated what to do. Aziraphale was charming, attractive, witty and intelligent. Not perfect, no, but perfect for Crowley, if he was honest with himself. They both lived in London, so distance wouldn't be a problem. 

Aziraphale had awakened a hope in him that he hadn't felt in a long time, and he felt that this budding relationship, if you can call it that, had great potential. He looked in the mirror and laughed to himself, there was nothing between them and it was almost as if he was already planning their life together. He didn't even know if Aziraphale was interested in him. 

Wasn't it crazy to consider a relationship with someone you'd only known for a few hours? 

But he found it hard to ignore the feeling of what if... what if he too had a right to happiness and he was letting it pass him by, what if this was his chance and he was letting it pass him by?

Was it worth the risk? 

Was Aziraphale worth taking a risk, this time completely recklessly?

Crowley didn't have to think long to know the answer. 

The answer was yes. 

Determined, he pulled out one of the business cards he always carried and a pen. He scribbled his personal number and hesitated a bit before adding, "Call me." 

When Crowley arrived at the entrance to the waiting room, he saw Aziraphale sitting there, staring at his phone, looking slightly dejected, which made Crowley's heart race with the hope that maybe Aziraphale was in the same frame of mind as he was.

When he saw him, Aziraphale smiled, not as brightly as before, but genuinely. He stood and waited for Crowley to join him when the loudspeaker called for the passengers to reboard the plane.

They approached each other, both visibly hesitant, neither willing to say the words that would end their encounter.

Aziraphale muttered, "Oh, damn... " then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him close.

Startled, Crowley froze, then exhaled in relief as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale.

Aziraphale murmured against his chest, "Happy birthday, Anthony."

"Thank you, Aziraphale." 

Crowley discreetly slipped the card into Aziraphale's coat pocket, then they stepped back and it was all over.

Crowley turned to pick up his luggage, grabbing his laptop bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Aziraphale had done the same and now he was dancing from one foot to the other, hesitating. 

He looked so adorable that it filled Crowley with a foolish surge of confidence and before he could think, he was leaning over the other man and brushing his mouth over his lips in a chaste kiss.

"Goodbye, Aziraphale." 

As he walked away, Crowley couldn't help but look back one last time to see that Aziraphale was still watching him and had brought his fingers to the lips Crowley had just kissed.

Crowley refrained from running toward him and continued walking. But as the distance between them grew, he felt his confidence evaporate like snow in the sun. He tried not to think about the other man as he crossed the airport. He tried not to wonder if Aziraphale would call him, and if so, when. Finally, he found his seat and, after putting his things away, made himself comfortable. That's when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Heart beating a little faster, he looked at the screen. 

The number was unknown.

Look in the front pocket of

your laptop bag. 

A.

The "A" immediately told him who it was. He did as the message instructed and was surprised to find a small package where it said. Inside was a small porcelain angel attached to a ring. Crowley had compared Aziraphale to an angel earlier, so Aziraphale had probably bought it in the souvenir shop next to the waiting room while Crowley was in the restroom. 

There was a small tag around the angel's neck with some words scribbled on it, Crowley looked closer. " So that you'll remember me." 

Crowley felt the butterflies come back. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed the number, knowing his time was running out and not wanting to wait until he reached his destination to talk to Aziraphale.

He didn't even have time to get a word in before Aziraphale spoke up, "So can we talk before our planes take off? And maybe plan an evening for me to take you out to dinner when we're both back in London? In four or five days? As soon as you get back. Unless you'd rather wait-"

"Aziraphale!

"Huh? What?"

"Breathe..."

Crowley smiled at the sound of embarrassed laughter on the other end of the line, then assured Aziraphale that yes, they could meet. Absolutely. Without a doubt. The conversation was easy and full of eagerness to see each other again, to have another date - a real first date, something they both wanted. They talked for nearly half an hour before Crowley's flight took off. Aziraphale promised to text Crowley when he landed, and Crowley promised to do the same. 

As they hung up, they both thought that their meeting was truly worthy of a romantic comedy.

**********

A year later, to the day, Crowley and Aziraphale sat comfortably together on a sofa, watching television without actually seeing it.

On the coffee table in front of them were the remains of a birthday cake and two glasses of champagne.

Crowley lay with his head in Aziraphale's lap while one of Aziraphale's hands rested on his hip and the other was buried in his red hair.

Crowley sighed contentedly and murmured, "We couldn't have settled down like this a year ago." 

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Well, we hardly knew each other," he brushed back a strand of Crowley's hair and continued, "Strange birthday, wasn't it?"

Crowley straightened up a little until he was almost sitting on his lover's lap. Then he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's neck as Aziraphale's hands slid to his hips. He leaned forward and murmured against his lover's lips, "Best birthday ever, until this one, obviously."

He closed the distance and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's in a tender kiss.

Nothing could be truer. For a long time, Crowley had resigned himself to ending up alone. But a year ago, fate had put this man in his path, and what he'd thought was impossible had become his daily routine.

He no longer stayed at work because all that awaited him was a cold apartment; now he couldn't wait to get home, to Aziraphale's bookshop.

Living with his lover had been so easy. It was as if they both clicked. Each brought the missing piece to the other.

Only one thing remained.

Three words Crowley hadn't said.

Three words he had felt for a long time.

Three words he wanted to say now.

Aziraphale pulled him out of his thoughts by saying with a small smile on his lips, "You did get a little birthday present that day though, didn't you?"

"You mean this little trinket?"

Aziraphale replied with a knowing look, "That little trinket with the keys to your precious Bentley hanging on it? I think you must like it a little to have hung it there."

Crowley replied casually: "It's the one who put it in my pocket that I love."

Aziraphale tensed a little before pulling back to meet Crowley's gaze, "...you... ?"

"Yes." 

Crowley swallowed once and repeated clearly, "I love you, Aziraphale, my airport angel."

Aziraphale's smile widened, and then he cupped Crowley's face in his hands, brought it close to his own, and whispered, "I love you, too," before capturing his lips in a long kiss that went on and on, breaking only to reaffirm their love before kissing again. 

They both smiled blissfully when they finally parted long enough to catch their breath and then Crowley cuddled up to Aziraphale, who wrapped his arms around him as he gently kissed his lover's hair before whispering, "Happy birthday, my love."

Crowley could only nod against his lover's warm embrace.

Yes, it was the happiest of birthdays.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 21: Hate This Town

Word Count: 638/Rating: G/Pairing: None/CW: allusion to poverty, school anxiety, 10-year-old Eddie Munson (Bug's writing about Eddie and Wayne? Shocking)/Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, music, guitar

Divider credit to @silkholland

May 1976

Wayne could barely keep his eyes open when he arrived home at seven A.M. The night shifts were kicking his ass; not to mention, the hour-long drive each way has his lower back in knots. 

Still, he had one more task left to complete before he could crawl into bed and rest. 

He poked his head into his nephew’s room. Posters of Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin hung on the walls, flanked by Eddie’s own sketches of various fantasy characters. 

“Ed? Time to get up for school.”

The lump under the blanket didn’t move. 

“Eddie.” Wayne tried again. “C’mon. You gotta get up or you’ll be late.”

“I’m not going!” A muffled voice called back. 

Wayne sighed and scratched his bald scalp. “What, you got a test today or somethin’? Book report?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Pop quiz?”

At this, Eddie pulled the blanket just under his chin, revealing his still-sleepy face. “If I knew ahead of time, it wouldn’t be a pop quiz.”

Wayne’s tired eyes sparkled. “Gotcha to wake up, though.” His hand gripped the sheet to keep the boy from burrowing underneath it again. “Now, tell me: why don’t you wanna go to school?”

There was no response for a few moments. Wayne nearly began dozing off until Eddie finally spoke. 

“I don’t like it there,” he said softly. “Everyone is really mean and no one wants to be my friend.”

The older man’s heart lurched at his nephew’s words, but he forced a small smile. “It’s tough being the new kid, huh?” He ruffled Eddie’s curly hair. “Y’just gotta find people who like what you like. Similar interests. Like music.” The racket Eddie blasted from the radio certainly wasn’t Wayne’s cup of tea, but he imagined that someone at Hawkins Elementary enjoyed it.

Eddie shook his head. “I’m too scared,” he admitted. “‘Cause I told one kid, and he called me a freak.”

Wayne frowned despite his best efforts to feign positivity. “Look, you can stay home today. But only today. You’re going back to school tomorrow.” He patted the bed twice as if saying ‘case closed,’ though he knew the conversation was far from over.

“Hey, wake up.” Wayne didn’t have a day off from work until Saturday. He and Eddie both preferred sleeping in on the weekend, but the older Munson had been up with the sun that morning. He chuckled as Eddie groaned and stirred. “C’mon, I have a surprise for you. Two, actually.”

Eddie’s bleary eyes flew open at that, and he shoved aside the covers to follow his uncle into the living area. 

“No way…” His words were whispered, barely audible above the refrigerator humming. 

Leaning on the old sofa was an acoustic guitar. 

Wayne put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Bought ‘er from the pawn shop this morning.”

“But I don’t know how to play.”

“That’s why I went down to Music World and signed you up for lessons.” Wayne glanced down at Eddie. “It’s in a group, so you’ll get to meet people, too.”

Eddie said nothing; his gaze remained transfixed on the instrument in front of him. He brushed his fingers along the strings gently, as though he was afraid he’d break them. 

“It’s a guitar, not your sweetheart,” Wayne joked. 

The boy nodded, but his touch was still tender as he slipped the strap over his head. “When do I learn how to play?”

“First lesson is this afternoon, if you’re up for it.”

“Okay!” Eddie lifted the guitar back over his head, careful not to let it graze the floor. He looked around before turning back to his uncle. “Hold my sweetheart while I get ready?”

Wayne laughed, inhaling relief and exhaling worry. “You got it, kid.”

Maybe his nephew would find his place in this town after all.  

--

[mysticalsoot]

i prefer life with you, than without

part 2 of 'glances of love'

➸ note; woo!! here's another part!! if you saw this when I accidentally posted it, no you didn't, shush that never happened !! (requests are open for this series btw!) i will be asleep when this posts so I'll add it to the masterlists in the morning :) (lilly please harass me there's no way in hell im remembering)

➸ pairing; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

➸ summary; wilbur gets a bit self conscious about his relationship with reader but you're quick to reassure him !

➸ warning; possible swearing, mentions and vague descriptions of parental fighting and childhood trauma, food mentions (no EDs), implied age gap (do what you will with that), if there's more lmk!

➸ age-rating; 14-15+

➸ wordcount; 2.4k

main masterlist

glances of love masterlist

your relationship with wilbur had balance, plenty of it. it was rare to even get into an argument and sometimes you'd bicker over small things, bound to look at each other and laugh at the stupidity of the moment. your life was finally happy and quiet, he brought you peace with his smile and his touch. his love radiated from him, making sure you're always warm. he wanted to make sure that part of you that held your inner child could heal, he never wanted to see you break. he never wanted to repeat his own childhood.

he noticed early on in the relationship that when a man's voice raised just a bit too much, you'd flinch and freeze. you'd tense when he tried to soothe you by a touch to your shoulder or chin or face, but you relaxed when you realized it was him. you never wanted to be your parents.

they fought a lot in your earlier childhood, arguing over small minute things, your dad refusing to pick up around the house and leaving your mother to do the rest. there were threats, and there were screams. you'd cover your ears and so would your siblings. the tears would build, threatening to spill as the screams of your parents echoed on the walls.

you told Wilbur this after the first few times he caught you flinching at someone yelling, the final time being when he yelled at someone for catcalling you. he pushed this time, while the others he just frowned and let it slide, when you flinched at him, it broke his heart and so he had to know why.

you told him how you'd pray to god your parents would wake up back in love or get a divorce and that it seemed neither prayer was answered. you told him how you were hyper independent as a child, just to avoid irritating your parents more. how his way of caring for you helped heal that wounded child still tucked inside.

and then he told you of similar experiences, how when his parents were fighting the most, he felt torn between them. like he was this weight keeping them held in this marriage they didn't seem to want. then they had his little brother, Tommy, and it seemed to fix it. until his father became too busy for wilbur, but not too busy for Tommy or Tech. but then he was too busy for everyone, and his mom withdrawaled and no longer seemed as interested in his life. so he likes caring for others, it gives him a purpose and if he cares for someone that needs it, he'll have that loving and appreciative attention he desires.

both of you had your shared traumas but you worked through it, he never yelled, you let him care for you (although, you needed that help anyways). it was a fair deal you two had subconsciously made.

the day was quiet, the both of you cleaning up the kitchen together with a front bottoms album playing in the living room. he'd spin you around, making you giggle before you'd both go back to cleaning. he was working on dishes, and then he paused, eyes glancing up ever so slightly as he sucks in a breath.

your heart jumped into your throat when he spoke those words; "baby, we need to talk."

it was sweet, but not sickeningly so. he was gentle with his tone and his words, taking a few steps towards you in the kitchen, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. he was smiling, sweetly at that.

"yes, Wil?" you smile up at him, your hands gripping at his sides as you try to hide the fear in your eyes and voice.

he grabs your face in his hands gently, thumbs rubbing your jawline before he kisses the tip of your nose. he pulls back, eyes sporadically searching yours.

"don't you think I'm too old for you? i mean.. shouldn't you be out, partying and making mistakes instead of staying in and baking cookies with me before settling on the couch to binge a show until we sleep..." he pauses, eyes trailing away before they gaze down on you again. you hold back on speaking, keeping your words on your tongue while you wait for him to finish, "am I taking that experience away from you?"

you shake your head slowly, your hands reaching up to cover his larger ones and you sigh at the feeling of his skin under your fingertips.

"no, not much would be different in my life if we weren't together. besides my life would be sadder and lonelier. at least I can do my old person activities with someone else." you smile, shrugging as you turn your face to kiss his palm, eyes looking up at him through your lashes.

"are you calling me old?" he taunts, smirk curling up and the frown shown before is completely gone.

you turn your gaze away as you shake your head, "noooo.. I mean you are kinda old? you are twenty-six after all."

"oh you little shit-" he smirks, grabbing you by the waist and picking you up. he carries you over to the couch and pins your limbs down, fingers attacking at your sides and belly as you swat at his hands.

"wil- no! it tickles!" you breathe out through loud giggles, squirming in your spot.

"this is for calling me old, baby," he continues tickling until you give him a warning glare, "okay, okay," he chuckles with his hands in the air before he sits back, pulling you into his lap. you settle between his thighs, resting your head on his shoulder as he pets the back of your head. he kisses your temple as he hums.

"I hope you mean what you said," he turns the conversation back to what it was earlier. an exasperated sigh leaving his chest as he chews on his lip, "I don't want to be the one to take those experiences away."

"do I look like I'm one to have a desire for partying?" you scoff playfully, thinking to all the moments where you'd drink with him and his band after a show.

he thinks for a moment and then shakes his head, kissing your cheek and nose and forehead.

"i guess not, you're a bit of a recluse, hm?" he teases, smirk crawling back up on his features. you swat at his chest, gasping in mock offense.

"I am not! i go out all the time!" you scoff and shake your head. he holds your hips a bit tighter, keeping you held in your lap.

"okay, then, when's the last time you went out?" his smirk deepens, eyes glinting with mischief.

it takes you a few minutes to conjure an answer, unsure as you speak, "I went to waterstones like.. two days ago?"

"baby.." he starts, tone a bit stern but still teasing.

"okay, okay fine! maybe I am a bit of a recluse but I like it, I do. i really like staying in and doing my work and waiting for you to come back. it's peaceful and I finally feel safe enough to just live and be alone. it's safe, I like it," you take a deep breath after your rant, looking down at his hands, taking one of them and playing with his fingers mindlessly, "you're safe." it's merely but a whisper, but he hears it and he can't tell if his heart is breaking or healing. your words struck a cord with him and he doesn't know how to swim through sludge in his brain.

"I'm not taking anything away from you?" his voice cracks softly, a small frown on his lips, an expression of worry. he fears being the one holding you back, despite the both of you being in similar stages of life. stable incomes, jobs and lives. you share finances, the apartment, grocery bills. he goes on tour, you stay back and edit two or so videos a week. you're both happy, and you aren't sure why he's so insistent that he's holding you back. if anything, he helps project you forward. he assists you in every which way. he helps you, he encourages you, he loves you.

"not one thing," you smile, holding his hands and shaking them a bit before kissing each of his fingertips. you lean forward, head on his shoulder as you tuck your legs between his. your body nestles between his thighs and he wraps his legs around you in a little nest.

"do you regret this?" he hums, worry still controlling his every thought. he's so anxious, and you can't entirely figure out why.

you sit back, looking up at him as you play with the fluff of hair that hangs over his forehead and you think, letting thoughts and worries be sifted through.

"mm.." thoughts scurry around, glimpses of brief worries, of judgement from friends and family, from fans in particular, "no, I don't. i really never have. why regret something that gives me you?"

"because you regret not doing certain things," he shrugs, taking your hands in his and laughing softly at the size difference. it looks so ridiculous to him, he must look like a giant to you. perhaps he is a giant.

"if I wanted to go out and party, there's nothing stopping me. there's absolutely nothing in my way that keeps me from living life," you smile to yourself, watching as he rubs his thumbs over your hands, bringing them to his lips to kiss.

"you could be dating though, not just stuck with one guy," he whispers, kisses placed on your palms and fingers and wrists.

"I like being stuck with my guy," his eyes finally meet yours and they seem to melt in a way. a small whine escapes his lips as he grabs your body, arms wrapped around your form before he pulls you into a sweet hug.

you giggle and laugh, bringing your lips to his for a sweet, loving embrace. a few moments pass and he pulls away, "I'm yours?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you smile, kissing his forehead, just to pull back and meet his eyes. you sigh happily before getting attacked with kisses to your lips.

"mine.." he mumbles between each meeting of your lips, sighing and humming in between kisses and mumbles.

"my baby.." he smiles, pulling back to admire you, his thumb traces your cheek and jaw. it presses into your skin gently, rubbing smooth, soft circles onto your face. jaw, chin, lips, cheek.

you giggle at the kisses, a fluttering, ticklish feeling beneath each one. wilbur smiles at each kiss, placing each one with gentle care, love left behind at every touch of his lips.

"pizza for dinner?" you hum softly, holding his upper arms gently, not quite able to wrap around them fully.

he pulls away gently, smile still on his lips and eyes foggy with some sort of mixed love emotion. he nods, placing a kiss to your throat, "I'll order, yeah? I'll run a bath for you and set out some of my clothes for you to change into," he hums, kisses to your collarbone and shoulder, his hums echoing in your bones.

"a bath?" your words hold part offense and part curiosity.

"I am not saying you need it, I'm saying that I may have splurged yesterday and bought a few new bathbombs for you.." he trails off, kissing your cheek. he's smug with his words, and you swat at his chest.

"Wil, really?" you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes with a warm smile.

"what? they smelled good!" he counters, leaning back to look down at you with a small pout.

"they're lavender scented, aren't they?"

he hums, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he shrugs, "maybe, but it's your favorite,"

you nod, laughing softly as you slip out of wilbur's lap. he holds your wrist gently, thumb rubbing the skin there for a few seconds before smiling and letting go.

he draws your bath as you both chat about random things, kissing you before leaving you to enjoy the warm bath with bathbombs and smelly soaps and bubbles.

you don't spend too long in your bath, maybe 20 minutes before you're draining it and drying off, changing into a pair of wilbur's boxers and one of his shirts. you hum as you walk out of the bathroom and through the bedroom. a few strides and you're behind him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist. you kiss on his back for a few moments, humming to yourself.

"thank you, love," you whisper as he places his hands on yours, you scratch at his stomach gently with your fingertips.

"you're welcome, honey. pizza will be here in a few, okay? why don't you go over and rest on the couch, I'll be in there in a minute," he turns in your grasp, leaning down and grabbing your face, a kiss to your forehead that lingers as he hums against your skin. he pulls back and smiles at you, a kiss to your nose and you turn around to the living room.

you hurry to the couch, hopping on it and curling up with pillows and blankets as you set up some random movie on Netflix.

wilbur comes in a few minutes later, a box of pizza and a couple plates in hand. he dishes a piece out for you both, cuddling up next to you under the blanket and watching the movie along with you. it's nice, the quiet. you don't always need words with wilbur, sometimes the silence is plenty for you both, how calming and serene it is to not have to say anything.

it goes like this for a few hours, until you're both falling asleep, wrapped up together and dozing off with half lidded eyes.

"I love you, you know that?" you hum, looking into wilbur's eyes as best you can, trying desperately to fight sleep.

"I do, I just worry," he sighs, kissing your forehead with a sleepy smile.

"then don't worry," you kiss his nose, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs.

he smiles and kisses you once, a quick peck that says a million more words than spoken and he tucks his head in your shoulder. his breathing steadies out, followed by gentle snores before you're lulled to sleep with him.

you much prefer life with him than without and you hope he feels the same.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @ughtreyparker @whos-nicooo @zebonos

© 2023 mysticalsoot

[beelmons]

Escapade 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!reader Rating: NSFW, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex Summary: The stress of the job can take a toll on one’s mind and body, and as your friend Spencer and you come to realize: there’re many fun ways to cope up with it. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: This was supposed to be a one shot but people on AO3 asked for continuance and now I have made a very interesting mess. The format used dashes instead of quotations for dialogue since it's more AO3 friendly. Responting so it can appear on spencer tags. Enjoy and let me know what you think. 

The most interesting part of working in the BAU was definitely the bouquet of personalities that the team had to offer. Not one of them was similar to the other, not in how they talked, nor thought or behaved; granted, that happened to be the biggest asset of the unit and what got them through most of the cases they had had so far.

Dynamics were always different, from one member to another, and certainly everybody seemed to fit the best with someone else. Prentiss and JJ, Garcia and Morgan, Rossi and Hotch, everyone but Spencer Reid. Or so he felt, until he met you. Being closer to his age than any other agent around him, he felt a slight relief knowing that you would join as the expert negotiator, finally someone that could relate to the struggles of what youth and inexperience could bring into this high-stress job.

Since social interactions were not really his forte, getting to know him was a bit of a challenge. And yet, it was the easiest part. A man who overshared and couldn’t hide his excitement about certain topics, smart like no other, and easily shaken by the vile nature of many of the subjects he got to study, you could read him like he was a children’s book since the moment you were introduced by Hotchner. Shortly after, and thanks to Morgan’s efforts to nudge the two of you into talking more, you became friends. You enjoyed his nerdy presence around you so much, he was fun in his own way and never ran out of topics of conversation, for obvious reasons. Spencer Reid was your FBI partner and friend, and as hard as it was to admit, you would even consider him your best friend.

Aware of said fact, you couldn’t stop asking yourself why, then, were you in this utility closet, standing with your chest against the wall, barely able to see your partner as he pounded inside you from behind, the waistband of your pants down to the mid of your thighs and feeling the way the fabric of his own brushed against your ass. Spencer leaned back trying to get a better view of his work, even when the darkness of the suffocating room would not allow much vision, his moans reduced to quiet but quick breaths. You missed the heat of his body once he pulled away, having been flush against you seconds before, and you let him know with a whimper. He was quick to emit a “shh” from his lips, knowing that if you got caught it would mean the end of your careers. Feeling him slide in and out of you was blissful, and the thrill of being found out was just adding to the knot forming in your stomach. He felt the twitching of your walls and quickly bent forward again, his clothed chest rubbing against your blouse as he whispered into your ear.

— Hold on — he let out — I’m almost there, too.

The restraint in his voice sent chills down your spine. He was trying his best to keep himself quiet, even when his hips wouldn’t give you a second of rest, you clung to the pores of the wall trying to hold back your climax as you felt his tip hit to the very end of your insides, he kept your lower body still with his fingers, his palms tightly gripping onto your clothes to avoid changing the angle he knew was driving you crazy. It took only a couple more deep thrusts to send you over the edge, you couldn’t help a moan at the feeling of your orgasm, and he was quick to cover your mouth with his hand as soon as he heard your voice start to come out, his free arm wrapped around your waist, pushing your ass further against him as he kept still to release inside you, burying his face into your neck with a low and quiet groan.

Your bodies pulled apart and you gave him a second to dispose of the condom he had previously put on, in the meantime you fixed your clothes and inspected the blazer you had removed and hung from a shelf before the act just to make sure it was not messed up from any cleaning materials. Spencer mimicked your actions and tidied himself up before you finally turned around to check on him and grinned for a bit once you locked eyes.

— You okay? — he inquired.

— Yes, Don Juan — you chuckled at his concern — It was nice. So much for “it was a one-time thing,” huh? — He responded to your question with an awkward, almost uncomfortable, laugh. This was not the first time you had done something like this with Reid and it most likely wouldn’t be the last one. — Okay, doctor, do me. — you said as you stood straight after sliding on your blazer.

— I… — Spencer furrowed his brows in slight confusion — I… think I just did?

— Not that, smart-ass — you snarked back playfully — the profile. Look at my outfit, my expression, my hair, everything that could not match the story that we came up with. Listen, we work with some of the brightest, most observant minds of the FBI, if we don’t cover our backs, they will find out pretty soon about it, so to keep this quiet we need to outsmart them.

— Right, right — he reminded himself of the pact you had made a couple of weeks before. With a prolonged glance he started to examine your body, head, chest, bottom, legs, anything that could give away the fact that he had just had you up against the wall doing your best to not scream his name outright. — Your shirt looks too tidy, if we were out buying coffee, it would have slipped out of the pants a little bit from the walking. It rained yesterday, but the mud of your shoes has already dried up from being inside, so you should probably damp it up in the bathroom, you usually don’t button up your blazer after midday so it would be odd if you just came back with it buttoned up — he made a quick motion with his finger to have you turn around, to which you happily obliged — your hair is slightly messy from the back… hold on. — you thought he was going to fix it himself, but instead you heard him type something into his phone — It’s windy today, so it’s okay that it remains like that.

He grabbed you by the shoulders to gently spin you once again, and his hands ruffled the top of your hair slightly. He retracted his arms once he was satisfied with his work and tensed up for you to examine him next. He looked oddly nervous and avoided eye contact, guess he wasn’t used to being an anatomy skeleton for students to observe. You observed his shoes, pants, shirt, everything on him intently, and you didn’t like to admit you spent a couple milliseconds more on his face than needed. Once you had gotten your verdict you began to talk.

— Even if it rained yesterday, the sun is out, so it’s a little bit hot today, it’s better that you remove your sweater vest, you rarely wear it outside because the heat makes you grumpy, so it wouldn’t make sense to put it on outside.

— I thought about that too but… — he said as he pointed at his shirt — this is way too wrinkled, and I ironed this morning before I came to work, Morgan or Prentiss surely noticed.

— That’ fine. — you said as you continued to observe him — We will drop a bit of coffee on your shirt, which will give you a perfect excuse to not remove the vest. Make sure to drop some on your shoes too and a bit on your pants. Also, your zipper, it’s too far up to the top, once you start walking it slides a little bit because the safety grip gives in slightly. Your hair also… — you reached to ruffle it roughly, to which he responded with an “ouch!” — Sorry, your hair is just always getting too messy with the wind, so we must keep that in character. Also, roll your sleeves up, you do that when you carry coffee trays.

— Wow. — he exclaimed as you helped him roll the shirt as you mentioned — I mean, I knew we observed everyone in the team a lot, but this was pretty impressive.

— Yeah. — you said absentmindedly — Hurry. We’ve been out here for eight minutes, the coffee shop is a four-minute walk, and the delivery boy is already outside the building.

— Right, right.

You stood behind the door as you often did. That was the modus operandi, he would go out to grab the coffee and let you know if the hall was clear, which it almost always was since it was a service hall, and you would go out after his text, often grabbing a cloth that you would claim having gone get it if any of the janitors happened to see you go out. You had everything planned, brilliant minds coming up with brilliant plans to get away with what they needed to do, or rather wanted to do. After sneaking out of the closet you headed to the bathroom. Shirt, shoes, blazer, hair, everything was fixed to the way Spencer had told you.

You met him halfway back to the office and he handed you one of the coffee trays. Morgan’s, Prentiss’s, Rossi’s, none for Hotch, JJ’s with cream, and Garcia’s caramel macchiato, you looked over the orders once again, everything seemed in place, nothing they could read on you that would be out of the ordinary. Steady pace, not too fast not too slow, just two partners walking back into the office.

— Glad you two are back. — Hotch said as soon as you entered the BAU floor — We’re adjusting schedules for the upcoming guest lectures we are meant to give during law enforcement week in DC, they are meant to be given to a group of selected universities.

— Why are you wearing you vest? — Morgan interrupted all of a sudden as he scanned Reid up and down. — It’s like a million degrees outside.

You froze in your place and did your best to not show the panic in your eyes, hoping all the attention would be on him instead of the muscles that had tensed up involuntarily. You looked at Spencer as well, trying to join the questioning look of everyone else. You had told him about the vest, why did he decide to ignore you? You were beginning to spiral into the scenario where Morgan found out and you were kicked to the curb and eventually ended up homeless before a motion from Reid pulled you out. He pulled on the neckline of the vest to awkwardly reveal a huge coffee stain on his right pec. Everyone seemed to either laugh or at least smile at the way he ashamedly pursed his lips. You joined in the teasing as to not arise suspicion, since in any other situation you would do exactly that.

— Don’t worry, Reid, the day will come when you win your endless battle against slippery sidewalks.

— Something fun always happens in your coffee escapades — Emily mentioned.

— Actually, — Reid began to ramble — “escapades” comes from the Spanish “Escapar” which means “to escape from a place or a situation”, and in English it can be translated as “to part into adventure” which implies that the objective of the travel is unknown, “Crusade” is a mission to retrieve something, more specifically the holy grail, that could compare to coffee-

— Reid. — Hotch said firmly when he noticed the rest of the members confusedly staring at the blond doctor.

— Sorry. — he said as he cut himself short, pursing his lips embarrassedly as he used to.

— As I was saying, the lectures that the BAU will be imparting in different universities have to cater to the needs of each student bodies, since we’re looking to recruit future members with them. Look over the files on your desks and propose topics to lecture on before the end of the day so we can start working on the actual content. We will meet later to discuss how we will split to do the tour without spreading our workforce too thin. Get to work.

With a single hand movement, Hotch finished the briefing of the uninteresting task and grabbed the cup that was meant for Rossi, likely to take it to his office since he had shut himself in there working on something unknown. Morgan and Prentiss grabbed theirs too, and JJ mentioned something about bringing Garcia’s to her. Before heading back to your place, and making sure no one else was looking, you leaned back onto Reid’s desk with him resting comfortably against his seat. You looked at each other with a slightly smug smile. It was the first time you had gotten away with it at work, and it had been nothing short to exciting.

— An escapade. Doesn’t sound too shabby. — you said, your lips still curled up. — New code word?

— I do think that “escapade” is a way better code word than “let’s do the thing". It’s not very FBI-y if you ask me. Although, I still have to argue that an escapade has no apparent purpose and it’s just for the thrill of the adventure, as for what we’re doing we clearly have an objective in mind.

— Sure, that’s a good point of view, but also, you never know what’s going to happen in this adventure, and of course won’t be the same every time.

— Well, yeah, but the goal of the adventure doesn’t really change, it’s still to achieve the holy… — he stopped himself, threading carefully over his words, trying not to sound too tacky — the holy grail?

— Well, it certainly felt holy. — you took a sip of your coffee as you spurted those words.

— Hey! — he darted out loudly before lowering his voice. — Someone could hear us.

He stopped you mostly to avoid getting any redder on the face. He would so confidently take you in a utility closet, but being praised for his performance was making him shy? God, you found this man so amusing.

— Whatever, I’m not discussing the etymology of our code word with you. Let’s get to work if we don’t want to end up with boring lectures.

You pushed yourself away from his desk and walked back to yours, just a couple meters from his, to obey the orders you had given yourself. You buried your nose into the files that the boss had left for you, so much that you didn’t notice the way he kept slightly grinning in your direction. He knew he needed to wipe it out soon, or all the planning, sneaking, and stealth would go down the drain. Whatever it happened at work from now on, there was something for certain, you could always look forward to the next escapade.

[delicious-stray-dogs]

I was thinking about Kabru today.

Kabru and his Tism

Kabru’s special interest is people in a similar way Laios’s is monsters.

He sees people and relates to them similar to how Laios sees monsters. In a clinical, science related observant way.

He knows culture and politics and biology and psychology and mannerisms and reading their wants and needs and how he should respond.

Laios found monsters bc he felt inhuman and Kabru forced himself to be like “everyone else” and learned how to perfect his mask so he would be accepted.

Now in all those parallels and similarities. With Kabru being an unhinged little autistic gremlin just as much as Laios just in a different more carefully hidden way.

Would it be all to far to think Kabru would be the same was Laios is with his own special interest? Ofc not outside the boundaries of the differences of their personalities and characters.

But if he trusted someone enough to let down his guard and infodump in a relaxing unmasked way not just a “I’m providing info that will help the situation” way

I think Kabru would really like to sit in a public place maybe getting food or a drink or something and ah guessing games to a person he’s with. Like oh that dude over there just came from a stressful day at work or she has 3 cats and just be silly with his knowledge of people peopling

Honestly I thought that maybe he’d enjoy gambling because of his knack for people and playing them and the rush of being able to show off his special interest while getting a rush would be very fulfilling to him

But most of all I could definitely see him with a close friend who he can unwind around and say his observations

Like mentioning tells or habits “you always rub your left thumb when you know something I don’t.” Or “hey your heart rate just picked up. Is something wrong?”

Like making observations of other people “there’s a family with small children that always comes here around noon so we shouldn’t be there around then.” Or “oh that new worker really like the stray cats around the corner. She always goes out to sit with them at lunch”

He’s like a regular gossip with friends but in such a much more nerdy calculated way. If not oh so and so is dating so and so. It’s more “he’s been standing closer to her and they can’t stop glancing at eachother and when they talk their voices go up a few octaves and their pupils will dilate whenever they have to talk or someone mentions the other and …”

[smytherines]

☠ agent curt mega pretty pleaseeee

Ooooohhh angry/violent headcanon for Curt. This is an interesting one. I wrote waaaay too much here and I'm probably gonna end up in fandom jail for this one, but...

I mean we've talked about this before, but I genuinely do not see the horrible toxic manipulative Owen/little innocent cinnamon roll Curt dynamic that a lot of people seem to get from A1P1. It just doesn't track for me with what actually happens in that scene. Interpretation is an art, and everyone's art style is different, I just personally can't see anything to support it.

For me, pre-fall curtwen is a relationship of equals. Equals who often irritated each other because they were very different people (but also because they were very similar people), equals who didn't have any real concept of how to have a healthy relationship (especially with another man), equals who individually had a lot of flaws and messed up coping mechanisms and (in my headcanon at least) neurodevelopmental disabilities that made them uniquely suited for espionage, but also gave them all sorts of weird problems that they had no way of understanding or fixing. For me, they each gave as good as they got. For better or worse.

So keeping that in mind, I think about that part of A1P1 where Cynthia is insulting Curt while trying to recruit Owen to A.S.S., because that interaction, and what comes after it, is very important for my understanding of who pre-fall Curt was as a person.

Even though Owen doesn't entertain the idea of working for A.S.S. for even a second, Curt gets jealous, and pissed off, and hangs up on Cynthia. I think Owen's line is "What are you, jealous? You know I'd never work for the Americans," and its incredulous, like its a silly thing for Curt to get upset about because Owen would never even consider it. Curt pulls his flask out as soon as the call is over, and he responds to Owen pretty sharply by saying "Oh I do know that you couldn't handle it." He responds as if Owen has threatened his status at A.S.S.

We see this dynamic again when Owen chastises him for drinking, and Curt mocks his accent while saying "not until the jobs done." We see it again when Owen gestures to the banana peel like "what are you doing," and Curt responds fairly harshly with (I think, I'm doing this off memory) "this whole place is about to be garbage anyways, who gives a shit."

Those moments, for me, imply that Curt gets embarrassed easily, he gets jealous easily, and that he reacts very defensively when he is criticized, which is just Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria 101. It couldn't get more typical RSD than that. And each criticism, even though they're individually pretty mild, just seems to make him act more recklessly during A1P1, like he's trying to show that actually he's a badass and Owen just worries too much. Again, very RSD.

The thing about RSD is that- especially when you don't know you have it- sometimes your first impulse is to get furious. Not annoyed. Not irritated. But like blood pulsing in your ears, seeing red kind of furious. Your heart rate elevates. It's like your body goes into fight or flight, and more often than not your body is going to pick fight. And because ADHD is a lifelong thing, unless you're getting treatment or at least a diagnosis and information, you literally have no concept that this is not how other people react emotionally, so you justify your own behavior because you truly do not understand that this isn't normal (ask me how I know hahahaaa)

As much as we love them, and as much as I truly believe they loved each other, they probably got into a fair few fistfights over the years. These are two men who are accustomed to violence. Who are very good at violence. Who have a flirty torture scene and then tell the guy whose knees Owen just shot out that "you've just been used for sport" (Owen), and "I hope you had fun- I know we sure did" (Curt).

To me, pre-fall Curt seems like the type to put Owen down a lot with relatively minor digs "as a joke" (aka he is bad with feelings), and to some degree it doesn't bother Owen that much because that's just how they are. They banter. But sometimes, maybe when Owen is tired or feeling particularly sensitive that day, he'll go straight for the jugular- zero in on the thing Curt is most sensitive about. With Curt its death by a thousand cuts, with Owen its a laser guided missle.

I've talked about this before too, but I think that by the time we get to A1P1 Curt probably already has a bit of a drinking problem. After the fall, drinking is just how he manages to survive his grief. But I think before the fall he could get miserable and sour and petty while drunk, take out his insecurities on the people around him, and probably on occasion just start fights because he's bored and will take any stimulation he can get.

I don't think this is just a thing he does with Owen either, I think this has probably been a problem for him his whole life. He feels things very close to the surface. He is very emotional, which is a thing you're not allowed to be as a man, as a boy/teen/man in the 30s, 40s, and 50s, and a thing that is very dangerous if you are a gay man during this time period.

He also has a big fucking ego. During the 54 Below concert spoken intros they describe what happens in A1P1 as "when these two spies are together they are gay and unstoppable- until Curt's ego gets in the way." And I think a big part of that ego is wrapped up in his performance of his gender. That if he's the very best at this extremely hypermasculine profession then nobody will notice any of the stereotypically feminine traits he has, no one will think he is actually sensitive and tender-hearted and more vulnerable than he appears. He thinks that performing stereotypical 1950s masculinity will insulate him from anyone ever finding out his secret- that he likes men, that he's in love with a man.

Also, ADHD can make you very impatient, easily bored, and Jesus let me tell you I know from experience that when an ADHDer gets too bored for too long, they get irritated. At everything, at nothing. So the combination of these factors makes me think that he probably was the kind of kid to get into scraps (especially at any suggestion that he was not masculine enough), the kind of adult who felt too much and got it out with aggression. He was a brawler. Spying helped focus his aggression. He got to still have it, but he got to feel like it was serving a noble purpose.

I do also think that, even if he gave Owen a lot of shit (particularly for the crime of not being American), if someone insulted Owen in front of him, or if one of their enemies hurt Owen, I fully believe Curt would go full-on berserker mode to defend Owen. So it isn't entirely a negative thing. He can utilize his anger and violence to protect people he loves too.

[charmac]

hey so just curious, i'm asking this as someone who pretty strongly believes that dennis is gay, but wants to understand other perspectives. so it seems like the common consensus of a lot of sunnyblr is that dennis is bisexual but dee is a lesbian. so i was just wondering about those headcanons, since it seems like lesbian dee and gay dennis have sort of similar trains of logic behind them (heterosexuality = societal power). just need to let you know that i love your blog and i didn't mean for this to come across as confrontational, but i just wanted to explore ideas which are different from my own. thank you xoxo

For sure, and this doesn't come across as controversial at all lol I love discussing this stuff and that you're interested in hearing my perspective means a lot tbh

(Just to preface, I wrote most of this while high and watching baseball, but that's when my brain works best so not to worry)

So as for the common consensus of "Bi Dennis, Lesbian Dee" in the wider Fandom, I think a lot of that is rooted in the idea that the Gang are the "letters" of LGBT, so to speak. Not to say that's a bad thing, but just that a lot of people kinda like that "headcanon" as, for as far as canon is concerned, both of their sexualities are currently still ambiguous and this works and makes sense, so I think a lot of the fan-art and text posts/tweets/whatever veer that way.

Past that idea, I'm not actually sure what the majority of the Fandom thinks of Dee's canon sexuality? While right now I assume lesbian Dee would win, I am actually kinda surprised how few people voted gay Dennis (so far) in his canon sexuality poll, so I think a Dee version of that poll might be a good follow up to answer this...

Though the difference in what we see in Dee and Dennis' portrayals of their sex lives is what I think leans people more toward Bi Dennis and Lesbian Dee:

On Dennis: There's a point we're at with him where he.. has a system for men. He's not in denial about fucking guys, he's probably currently having sex with men (well clearly he's having (e)sex with one), he might have been sleeping with men the entire goddamn time, but he's still been pursuing women and drooling over breasts. He finds women (their bodies, really) sexually attractive. And for as much as the idea of inherently having power over women drives him, it's well established that the use of his Systems is what really gets him off, and he has one to manipulate and control men (and he's had it for awhile)... I think if Dennis wasn't sexually attracted to women, he would have just stopped—because he's clearly had no romantic interest in a woman ever in his life (briefly mistaking Maureen for something along those lines and realising he doesn't want it). I think there's a complete absence of romance in his sex life, full stop, and his life almost completely... with the exception of the fact that he has a life partner (whom he goes on dates with, financially supports, apparently now shares a bed with, etc)... But he's still gets off to and/or with women (at least that's what RCG write every now and then).

(And on the topic of writing, I think maybe in some ways for me, Bi Dennis over gay Dennis theory is due to the coding just being more obvious?... If an Italian man wants to eat a sandwich... to the paralleled Systems being the reverse of each other, giving prostate orgasms to Mac one episode and then desperate to see huge fake tits the next...)

On Dee: Season 6 made it pretty clear she's duping men into sex, and her relationship with Bill Ponderosa speaks volumes. But while she was sleeping with men just to give them low ratings in Group Dates, she was only spurred to that point because she was rejected by a guy she thought she was seeing. Then Goes to Hell reestablishes Dee is pressuring men into sex using insinuations, clearly devoid of romance. PTSDee is interesting, because Dee is acting on scorn, but it's not that the guy she slept with didn't want to see her again, but that he insulted her game. Then, Time's Up says a lot more, because it's quite literally telling you Dee slept with her (arguably best) friend, this guy she does love as a friend, and still ended up doing what she does to all the men she sleeps with (and destroying their relationship), using them. By Season 16, she hasn't had a care for a boyfriend in years, but she's sleeping with men if there's date-rape drugs in the picture. I think it's made clear she has no romantic interest in men, this is pure (fucked up) sexual pleasure.

The difference with Dee in canon (which I think is pretty clear) is that she doesn't have the "other sex option" that Dennis canonically explores. There's nothing to show us that she's even entertaining the idea of sleeping with women, so it's easily interpreted that she's a repressed lesbian experiencing comphet. Once she has sex with a woman for the first time, men will be completely gone from the picture. As an interpretation and hope for Dee's character, I would be inclined to agree, but honestly I don't believe RCG have been/are writing Dee's sexuality as a lesbian, but as Dennis' parallel. So if they're going to keep giving her plots and writing that she's interested in men the way Dennis is interested in women, I'm personally inclined to believe she's canonically sexually interested in men (as objects? lol).

I 100% agree with your idea that their heterosexuality comes from this place of "sex with (control over) the opposite sex gives me power," but I don't necessarily see it devoid of sexual attraction (as they love to hammer that stuff in), just romance (for as surface level as "empathy" would be)

For me, the intention of the writing holds a lot of weight (and maybe I should loosen up a little lol), which is why I'm parked where I am, but if the majority of people in the Fandom do see Dee as a lesbian while still believing Dennis is sexually interested in women in some way, I think it's because, while Dennis and Dee are shown to experience sexual attraction (and hetero sex) in similar ways, they don't exhibit homosexual attraction the same way, and the interpretation of that in their plots and characterisation leads to more people seeing Dennis as bi and Dee as a lesbian.

But honestly I'm just speaking on my own thoughts, idk how many people would agree, will def run a poll on Dee's sexuality tomorrow.

Let me know your thoughts. I'm really interested in hearing back on this!

[dayseternal-blog]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Bunny-senpai!!! 💕

I answered an ask similar to this one last year in March and I don't think my answers have changed...

I rewrote each blurb haha, so it's not an exact copy-paste from before.

1 “It’s No Secret” - Rated M, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Hinata returns to Konoha after 5 years studying abroad in the Moon Kingdom. She just wants to enjoy her last year of high school as a normal girl, but blossoming love forces her to confront her future. - My top fave. Back then, I wrote this like I was possessed. This story consumed my mind, and I was posting chapters every 1 or 2 weeks. I'm amazed at myself from back then. No, it's not my technically best writing, but I was having so much fun thinking up all kinds of scenes!!! Oh, to be a fanfic writing newbie all over again. Major love to everyone who's read this flirty teenage shenanigans mess and enjoyed it!!! One day I will write part two 🥺

2 “Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war. - This fic idea came to me sometime after I read agitosgirl's "A Special Friend," and I wanted Moooooore!!! I wanted more of this hurt/comfort dynamic between NaruHina!!!! So bam, the fic almost wrote itself, it flowed so easily (except for when it didn't). I'm so happy that people reread this fic, and then tell me that they're rereading it :D. Once in awhile I reread it, too, and think, oh, I should fix that sentence, or whatever loll, but I don't. I kind of think it's nice to leave it as it is, imperfect in little ways to bother me. Please read this fic and recognize that I was copying Katarinahime's writing techniques throughout.

3 “Awkward Jocks” - Rated G, 1990s High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. She knows that if he were to ever ask her out, she would accept in a heartbeat. After all, he’s the star quarterback and basketball player. Plus, she’s liked him since…forever. But when her home phone rings, and he’s on the other line, she hangs up. - It's interesting to me that even after all the fics I've written over the years, it's a few of my oldest fics that take the top 3. I guess I really have been trying to write for myself since the start. This one is based off of my ex-coworker's love story. Even though I don't work with her anymore, I still think of her as my role model for good leadership. When you read this, I hope you can feel how much I love her!

4 “About You” - Rated G, 1970s High School AU, One-shot. A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other. - This is my most personal fanfic. Based on stories my parents told me and stories I found online from people of their generation, I tried to dive into their time using NaruHina. Ever since I was inspired to write after reading emmykay's "Torch Song," I had wanted to write a fic with Japanese-Hawaiian pidgin dialogue. This fic is close to my heart, but it's not higher on the list because there are inaccurate details that bother me 😅. I'm thinking of writing a fic about my great grandparents' generation one day, I've done a ton of research for it! Anyway, I'm so happy that others love this fanfic, too.

5 “Matcha” from “Shared Vows” - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto calls Hiashi “father” for the first time. - According to my previous blurb, I picked this one because I loved how I structured it, I thought I wrote it really well. I also loved the notion of Naruto finding his own family. On deeper reflection, I think I also picked this one over "Finally Home" because I have a not-so-secret agenda for reconciliation between Hinata and Hiashi, fed by my own family's dynamic with my dad.

If I were to recommend any one of these for someone to read, I'd say they should start with Nightdreams or Matcha as an intro to some of my work since canon universe fanfic is always easier to digest.

[kiliinstinct]

Chapter 30

Rating: R Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] Happy Birthday to me! Here's an Update! Remember to thank @phoenix-before-the-flame for their Beta work! * April Post Date: 16th As you can see, there will be only one post next month due to me taking part in Camp Nanowrimo. (Similar to Nanowrimo but shorter.) Two chapter posting will continue in May. Those Dates will Appear on the Next Update.

Gajeel knew they were coming.

Before morning hit, he expected the hurried steps and smell of angry magic tickling his nose. He would have been disappointed otherwise.

Laying in his cot with one leg over the other, he affected the perfect air of calm indifference, holding back a snort. Honestly, who in their right mind wouldn't come running after his little stunt? Getting loose was one thing, but sniffing out one of the fairy’s dragons and cornering him in his own home? Gajeel was surprised they hadn’t come sooner.

The door to his cell swung open, revealing the chief all but vibrating in waves of magical power. Sweeping through the small room, the pressure of his power rattled the cot beneath him. He resisted the shiver that traveled down his spine while gooseflesh pricked along his skin. Obstinately, he met the old man’s venomous stare with an arched brow, feigning unconcern. 

He couldn't react. Not yet. 

Whistling low, he pulled a grin that made his visitor’s eye twitch. A fact that brought him satisfaction as he noted the scents of others crowding the hallway. Good, so he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could handle a possible threat alone. Gajeel could respect that at least. 

”Damn is this how ya' greet people in the morning?“ He asked innocently, ”if Kage pissed himself, I’m laughin’ til my lungs give out.“

”I don’t appreciate lying, boy.“ Makarov accused without preamble; His magic strengthened, flowing around the room like an ominous wind, shaking dust from the rafters as bits of broken stone rattled against the floor. 

”I ain't lied since I got here.“ He replied, grin widening, ”something wrong?“

Makarov’s eyes narrowed as another wave of magic emanated from his body. It swept across the building and the fortress shuddered and creaked in its wake. Stepping inside, the rising pressure almost stole Gajeel’s breath.  He leapt to his feet as the old cot groaned, legs giving way under the power being exerted as it collapsed to splintered boards.

This was more than a show of power; This was a threat.

Instinct and common sense told Gajeel to make a break for it, but he held his ground, digging his sharpened nails into his crossed arms. He stood straight. Too straight. The old chief stood before him with a presence that belied his age and size. If he noticed how stiff the metal draconis became, with pupils blown unnaturally wide, he remained silent.

“You tell me,” The old man hissed.  “You seem to be under the impression that you are a guest of some sort. The chains may be gone but you know as well as I that you forfeited your freedom the moment you came within these walls.” 

A crack split the stone beneath the window behind Gajeel, neither paid it any mind. Makarov continued fiercely, “ You seemed a smart enough man to understand that. And yet you took it upon yourself to slip away, stalking through the streets of my home like some sort of animal. Tracking down Lucy-”

”Calm down, old man, I ain't interested in the blondie! I told you that already!“ Gajeel retorted, swallowing thickly as the chief's magic sought to overpower him.

“ I’m here for the other one you got hangin’ outside there like a dog on a leash.” Gajeel said, catching an answering snarl to his barb. A glimpse of pink flashed before the entryway before multiple sets of arms drew him back. Underneath the shimmering pressure coming from Makarov appeared a touch of heat. It took to the air in a haze, molding with the immense pressure.

He recognized it immediately, smirking as his gaze peered through the doorway, “The pink brat’s important. Not his girl.”

”And what? Breaking free to harass him is your idea of a formal meeting?! That was outside of our agreed terms and you-”

“Agreed what?!” 

Fire sparked to life just beyond Gajeel’s sight as the voices of many yelped in surprise. Their restraining hands fell away as Natsu stormed in, fists ablaze with unbridled fury. “You WANTED us to meet?“

”Natsu! I did not give the command to-“

He wouldn't hear any of it, “No! You acted like you knew nothing about what he wanted from me! and all along you were lying-”

Oh Gajeel was enjoying this- the thrum of pressure lessened and his posture relaxed considerably “Not the smartest move there, Gramps, now was it?”

Natsu turned his glare on Gajeel, yellow bleeding through those dark irises as scales pricked along the edges of his eyes. He spied the hints of darkness that speckled through the orange flames billowing from Natsu’ skin. That’s all it took? Laughter burst forth with no resistance, too pleased by the situation.

“Well well, if it ain’t the man of the hour.” Gajeel greeted with a sneer, “Didn’t take you for a snitch considering…” He let the sentence hang unfinished in the air, innocently tilting his head at the other despite the murderous intent rising in the room.

Snarling, the fiery draconis stepped forward, but Makarov threw out a hand to block his path.

“Enough!” Makarov shouted, fixing him with a stern glare that stopped him in his tracks. “Stay put and silent. As for the rest of you-,” He waited for Lisanna, Levy and Freed to poke their heads through the doorway, both girls looking far more sheepish than the other, “Get in here and get him under control. There's no point in standing by if this fool decides to start causing a scene.”

“I'm not a fo-!”

“Natsu.” His voice rumbled with the force of his power,“I said enough.”

His mouth shut instantly with the blaze of his flames receding just enough to make the temperature bearable. Hatred burned in his now amber eyes, refusing to take them off the metal draconis while the others filtered in. Warily they stood behind Natsu, apprehensively eyeing Gajeel. Paying Natsu no mind, he turned his attention to the others, taking a quick assessment.

Nothing impressive to look at. The group didn’t look like wranglers of any sort, but the white haired girl held herself strong and ready by Natsu’s side. She was poised to grab him at a moment's notice. The other two… blue and green haired mages that reeked of ink, stood by her side. The taller man rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, just as ready and the shortest one appeared nervous, bravely holding her hands in a curious manner, eyes wildly flicking about the room. A caster perhaps?

His eyes narrowed as the last two scents finally answered his unasked questions. These were the fabled barrier makers keeping Kage in check. He’d have trouble with them if things went south.

Makarov cracked his back with a groan, ignoring Gajeel’s snickering. He rubbed his temples in exasperation. “Now then,” he muttered, “You need to explain yourself. Now.”

The Draconis hadn’t moved since the chief’s command, but his body trembled from adrenaline coursing through him. Every second, another scale dotted his skin red, peeking through pieces of bandage that still covered his many wounds. Gajeel watched the smoke that rose from his body with a mild interest.

And then he bared his teeth in return, mocking a snarl.

“Enough about me. Let’s talk about him for a bit.” He stated, cracking his knuckles as he matched Natsu's gaze. Neither blinked, one growing more agitated while the other remained irritatingly calm.

“Now I know you fairies can get emotional, but you wanna explain why he’s about ready to pop? Don’t tell me you couldn’t get that lil temper of yours under control after all this time away from home.” 

What little flame was left on Natsu’s person burst back into life, now more black than red, proving Gajeels’ point. He took a menacing stop closer, fingers flexing with sharp claws glinting in the light. The Chief stretched out his arms and shouted a warning, holding Lisanna off from charging her own magic. She nodded, but remained poised, with shimmering silver crawling up her arms in a brilliant web.

Natsu didn't notice, too distracted by Gajeel while he hissed steam, ”Wanna say that again you son of a-“

”And that.“ Gajeel said pointedly, snapping his fingers, ”Had to see it myself to make sure. Did you suckers really think black flames are normal?” 

His snarl cut off as he blinked owlishly, nervousness filtered into those wide eyes. His magic still flared, casting shadows to all corners of the room. But the others took note of the streaks of oranges and reds slowly breaking through.

“Plenty of us noticed. He's always been like this,“ Makarov admitted, mustache twitching as he frowned, ”Black fire is as natural to him as breathing. Though it seems to flare when his temper has reached its limit.”

”... umm,“ Levy chimed in, uncertainty pulling at her features as she nervously stepped back. Freed placed a calming hand on her shoulder and she nodded, digging her heels into the floor and inhaling deeply to soothe her nerves, ”We have other fire wielders here, they use purple flames. And though I’ve never seen it personally, our traveling group has encountered people who use flames of all colors. Black isn’t so strange, is it?“

”You really got ‘em tricked good haven’t you flamehead?” Gajeel scoffed, waving off her question, but considered her words regardless. Storing the new information in the back of his mind he motioned towards Natsu again. “Get it outta your heads from now that draconis fire is anything close to what normal fire magic is.”

 He pondered his next words carefully.

“I’ll let ya in on a clan secret.” He continued gleefully, ignoring Natsu’s growl of warning.  “Despite what he’s made you think, black fire ain’t exactly common back home. Rarer than rare. No run of the mill fire draconis could make those flames unless they were-”

“SHUT UP!”

Fire spilled from his mouth as he shoved his way past Makarov, ignoring the old man’s shouts to stand down. Up close Gajeel could see the glow of flames gathered in his throat, even through the heavy bandaging, ready to let loose on a man who was saying too much. 

Freed unsheathed his sword, purple runes rising forth from the blade as sweat beaded on his brow from the sweltering heat.  “Makarov,” He began tremulously, “I think it would be prudent to-”

“Shut up.” Natsu snapped in a startling voice that sounded closer to beast than man. He could barely be seen behind the thick dark flames that swirled violently around him. Only the brightness of amber eyes shone through with more fear than rage.“Whoever this bastard is, he needs to shut the fuck up before I rip out his fucking throat-”

Gajeel cocked his head to the side and chuckled. For all the blustering and the threats, he  didn’t call upon his own scales to meet the call to fight. He took the brunt of the black flames unprotected, unblinking at the heat scorching his skin. The others couldn’t see it beneath the cloak of flames he used like armor. But Gajeel could see everything. Only his eyes were strong enough to pierce through the head and see how Natsu’s body trembled. 

He smirked. He had him cornered. Like a desperate animal. And Gajeel wasn’t afraid of animals.

”What's wrong, hothead? Don’t want me to let something slip? They’re your clan after all. They have a right to know about you. S’not right to keep family in the dark-”

”I'm warning you to shut up right-!“

Gajeel bent to meet him at eye level. His voice rose mockingly above Natsu’s and everyone clearly heard over the roar of his flames.

 “-You know exactly why I'm here, don't you, Prince?”

Outside the rumbling keep, Lucy held herself tightly, enthralled by the stranger she’d met. Erza stood by in silence, listening fondly as the two celestial roma spoke. Lucy was eager to know of the state of the other clans and Jellal was more than happy to share what he knew. All were blissfully unaware of the state of things beyond Jellal’s holding.

“So they're…..all safe?” She asked, eyes wide and watery in relief, “No others were attacked?”

“You knew of the ones before your clan began its North-bound trek,” He replied, lounging easily in his chair with a hand resting light atop hers. They'd begun their chat in earnest once Lucy gained control of her emotions enough to stop crying. Now she sat upon the edge of his bed, restlessly fidgeting. Her grip in his was tight as steel in an attempt to ground herself. It was hard to accept the reality; She truly wasn't the only one left after all.

Jellal continued with a faint smile,  “I can attest that the other branches made it past the mountain ranges to our haven. Only stragglers like myself ran into issues.”

“I still can't believe Erza knew you all along,” Lucy looked back at the redhead, “Why didn't you mention earlier?”

She coughed into her hand, cheeks turning red at the attention suddenly turning to her, “my excursions outside of the clan I like to keep private unless I feel it necessary to share. That being said, I wasn't sure if he was alive or not and didn't wish to give you false hope.”

This was enough to appease Lucy, who tilted her head right back to Jellal excitedly, “and you weren't hurt too much, were you?”

He didn't bother hiding the truth, ”No, I was not. Jose and his men were not pleasant by any means, but they wanted to keep me alive. …  I'm certain they want the same with you, as well.“

That was a quick dampener to the mood as Lucy's hand twitched. Her mouth twisted into a grimace and she wavered between keeping her own counsel and asking more questions.

Makarov had kept most of it secret from her, giving her just enough information to mildly satiate her curiosity, but it wasn’t enough. Here, however, was a man of her own blood who could explain everything.

”... is Makarov aware I'm talking to him?“ She asked, curious how much the chief was aware she had found another way to the truth.

A guilty silence from Erza was her answer. Looking to the wall, she fiddled with the straps of her bracer. That was all Lucy needed. For once he was in the dark and Lucy had all the answers laid bare before her, and she hungered for the truth.

Perhaps this could be considered a breach of trust. One that Lucy was unsure if she should take. However... looking at the bruises that dotted Jellal's arm and thinking back to the attacks that began all because she was with them, she couldn't remain in the dark much longer.

“... Was it any celestial,” She asked, voice low, “Or just me? Were they responsible for my Parents-“

She was silenced before the line of questioning could continue as Jellal rested his other hand on her shoulder, sighing. ”I wanted to verify that for myself. And I'm unsure if you'll like what you may hear.“

“Please,” she urged, “I need to know.”

He released her hand and slid from his chair, gaze turning to Erza for a second as he contemplated his next words. Whatever he read in her expression was enough for him to make up his mind. Looking down at the determined Romni, he motioned to the book he'd left shut at the table.

“That you do. But not yet. I think it best I have a meeting with the Chief first to discuss the stirrings I've seen out there,” he decided, dropping to his knees to kneel before her, “but as a fellow Celestial, I promise I will tell you everything you wish to know afterwards. It may not be ideal, but can you accept these terms?”

It wasn't what she wanted to hear and while her shoulders sagged in disappointment, her mind spun with possibilities. Promises were important. No Roma of the celestial blood would dare break one if made. This was it. Her heart pounded at the thought.

She just needed to wait a little bit more.

“Is ... there anything else you can tell me, then?” She asked instead. 

His visible relief melted the weight in the room as he looked to her injured leg. The old wound was hidden from him but he spied thin golden strings wrapped gently around her knee, undisturbed in their workings as they hummed with a magic no different from his own.

“Erza may have let it slip that you had issues reclaiming your power.” Humor filled his voice. ”Though there are some differences, I know our teachings have some similarities. Perhaps I can assist?“ 

Her smile grew so large she felt it would freeze into place, never to change again. ”I would like that.“

And assisted her, he did. He told her things about their abilities: the way the night enhanced them, how to mold the light of the stars to their bidding. Lucy was a natural, he told her, observing her knee with a keen interest. While the current effects did their job well, the efficiency was lost to inexperience, something he expertly talked her through with a guiding hand and patient voice.

Fragmented memories came to the surface with every word. Memories Lucy once refused to let surface. They trickled thoughts of a family long lost, but the old pain from her grief didn’t join them. She watched in awe as Jellal instructed her, hanging onto his every word and practiced motion. The familiarity of it all almost pushed her to tears again.

Erza watched in amusement as Lucy keenly absorbed everything he said. As the minutes passed by she took to the floor, withdrawing a rag and oil from a pouch on her belt to lathe over the length of her blade in delicate strokes. She was as patient as Lucy's teacher and would continue to watch and listen as Lucy relearned her abilities anew.

She was giddy, watching as the magic pooled in her palms and glimmered, casting a warm, yellow glow upon her skin. It was basic: a brief lesson of control that she once did as a child under a parent’s guiding hand. But to do it again without fatigue or pain clouding her mind left her childishly happy.

Jellal eased his weight back into his chair, fondly watching Lucy’s growing excitement. Her eyes glowed from the magic within, widening as a coo left her lips as she observed the swirling depths of her magic. She was, quite literally, starry eyed and her happiness pulled at his heart. To think that something so simple brought her so much joy, he couldn’t imagine the grief it caused to have her magic locked away.

He hummed and looked to the ceiling, eyes glazing over in thought as if he was watching the sky rather than the aged wood above.

Reaching a decision, he snapped a finger and grabbed a candle off the table.

“Lucy,” He asked, holding it aloft between them. The flickering light grabbed her attention as she curiously waited, “What is your experience with talking to the stars?”

Oh. This lit a light inside her mind, eyebrows rising into her hair. “I wasn't allowed to as a child. Even when I was older it was still something kept from me.  But I've made ... attempts.”

“Even if you didn’t participate, did you watch anyone in your family do it?” 

She shook her head, “I was always sent off to bed before they began.”

At the dubious stare he gave her she quickly amended, “I mean, I tried to sneak peeks. Of course I did, but they always seemed to just know and shoved me back off to bed before I could witness anything.They must’ve had their reasons so I eventually figured not to question them.”

He noted her admittance with a tilt of his head. “How odd. Are you aware of the meditations involved at least?”

When her eyes lost focus, attention leaning towards a speck on the wall, he followed with the candle flame, “I admit, it's much easier at night, but we can practice now all the same. Sometimes the stars speak regardless.”

Attention regained, Lucy flushed prettily and the magic in her palms dimmed with her embarrassment, “Is that what I've been doing wrong?”

“Hmm?” He prompted, settling the candle back down. He reached for a pack of matches, striking one to life as he moved to light a second one.

Well now she just felt silly, ”I can’t recall if I heard them as a child, but within the past year I’ve heard them without trying anything. They were just these voices either whispering nonsense into my head or shouting loud enough to give me migraines for hours on end. I've tried to reach out to them, but I suppose without knowing the proper ways I've never been able to instigate it.“

The match he was using to light a third candle dropped from his fingers, snuffing itself out as it clattered to the floor. 

His eyes narrowed, his tattoo beneath his eye crinkled as his brows drew close together in suspicion. Gone was her patient teacher, replaced instead with a sudden interrogator. Even Erza glanced up at his change in tone.

”... you've heard them?“ He repeated with a mystified air, ”no meditation? No prompting? Just... voices?“

She felt very insecure under his cold gaze.  Her magic faded beneath her skin and she shrunk in on herself. Her arms fell to her lap to fidget with her skirt. ”.....am I not supposed to?“ 

Had she just admitted to being absolutely crazy?

“No, no , please, I apologize,” setting the candles aside, he quickly moved to brace her shoulders, expression wide in surprise, “I didn't mean to offend you, it's just…” He gnawed at his lip, “.... not how we normally do things. In fact, I've only heard of one occasion it was done in such a manner and that was-”

He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, “Nevermind you mind that. Perhaps I'm over thinking it and it's just a sign of you needing to regain control of your abilities. Meditation can help with that.”

Lucy bit her lip as she observed him. He was avoiding her gaze, looking everywhere but her. Sometimes his eyes flickered occasionally back to the aged book. Erza stopped wiping down her blade, eyeing the two of them with intense scrutiny. Her gaze practically drilled a hole into Jellal's stiff back.

“You promised to be truthful with me.” Lucy said blankly. He flinched at her accusation, pulling his hands from her shoulders. Guiltily he ran a light finger over his wounded wrists.

“I did.” 

His emotions played out on his face- the confusion, the concern and the briefest hint of clarity before he steeled himself. Donning a placid mask, he spoke again. He cut Lucy off before she had the chance to protest. 

 "Our promise is not broken,“ He admitted, once again reaching for the candles, ”That I can assure you.  But I may need to speak with your chief sooner than I expected. I’ll have to inform him of this immediately.”

“Informed of what?” Lucy dug. Erza rose to her feet in a clank of heavy metal, worriedly looking at Lucy then casting a suspicious eye at her friend. “ What are you talking about?”

“At least tell me this much.” Lucy begged. She wanted to know, before following anything else, she HAD to know.

Jellal sighed and lowered his gaze, blue fringe of hair blocking his expression further, ”... That perhaps, Jose was on the right track. That you may be the one Celestial none of our kind would ever want him to get his hands on.”

He gripped his hands tightly, mirroring Lucy as the world seemed to fall out from under them. She. she had to know more! But from the look on Jellal’s face said the discussion was already closed. He wouldn’t tell her. 

Not yet at least. 

---

All Natsu felt was rage when he came to. The ghost of a snarl rested on his tongue as his instincts sparked back to life.

He wanted to burn something. No, someone.

That other draconis just wouldn’t stop talking. Every word he uttered in that grating voice of his was deliberate, carefully chosen to dig under his skin and set his blood to a boil. It had driven Natsu closer to the edge beyond the realm of reason. 

He had no right to even be here. A stranger with a self assured sneer standing freely in Natsu’s home, looking down on him without a care. He had no right to live after that awful word fell from his lips. Natsu screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory to no avail, it echoed in his mind. 

Prince. 

He vividly recalled the look of sly victory that settled in the man’s piercing red eyes. He didn’t bother to keep his gaze on Natsu when the title spilled from his lips. Instead, his gaze settled on those behind Natsu. He couldn’t see their bewildered faces as they looked to him for confirmation. For the truth.

He only saw red bleeding away to darkness as the world closed in on him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, louder than the blood rushing through his ears. It drowned out his only frantic thought- 'They can't know. No one can know, stop him, shut him up, shut him up shut hi- NOW.'

The fires around him swirled like a cacophonous tornado. Any hint of red in its depths was stolen by the black flames pounding at the walls. Gajeel stood arrogantly, unperturbed even as the raging wildfire licked at his skin. The cracking of stone walls under the blast and the groaning of the abused ceiling above were sounds lost to the fury inside his heart. The incessant screams and desperate cries for him to calm down were barely registered, as the others fought to regain his attention over the one word that repeated in his mind over and over again.

He lunged and the room erupted in frantic shouts.

 Freed flung himself before Levy and Lisanna, swiping his sword in an arc that sent a line of runes across the floor, protecting Gajeel.  It lasted mere seconds against the onslaught before it crumbled under the flames. Pressure dropped to nothing as Makarov grew in size, magic swelled around as he shoved the others out the door. Grasping the burning draconis with an oversized hand, he held the feral draconis back with a power the keep could barely contain.

Power ballooned in his chest, forcing its way up his throat. He dug his claws into Makarov’s seared skin, all sense of himself lost.

Everything went dark after that. While Natsu blinked at the ceiling, clarity returned to him slowly, allowing him to pick up the pieces of his actions and realize his location was different. He wasn’t in Gajeel’s cell anymore.

What... just happened? 

He knew this room and knew it well. It was a side room in the keep that Makarov often snuck off to for short naps. The old man’s light scent on the sheets was strong evidence to that. He blinked again when he caught Freed and Levy’s scents as well despite the silent room being void of anyone else.

Straining to move, Natsu grunted in surprise. He realized with horror that he couldn’t. And it wasn’t the weariness deep in his bones that stopped him. He struggled to bend his neck, finding himself covered in runic spells, shifting lines of words he couldn’t read. They bound his wrists and ankles. Now wonder he could smell the two Rune Enchanters . It was their handiwork.

But why? How did he even get here?

”Finally back to your senses are you?“ Makarov’s voice echoed from behind and Natsu craned his head back as far as he could to catch a glimpse of the Chief sitting on the floor with arms and legs crossed, almost as if he’d been dozing for quite some time. 

The world swam in and out of focus for Natsu, he couldn't make heads or tails or what was going on. Why was he being held down? His growl of frustration was pointed towards Makarov as he strained against the runes binding him. They didn’t dig at his skin. In fact he barely felt their presence save for a light buzz of magic, but they were unbending against his struggle and he was too drained of his strength to give it his all.

Prince, the word echoed in his head once more and a panic began to settle into his bones. 

They- they knew. They heard Gajeel’s admittance of a secret he had long since buried with his past. He stared at Makarov wide eyed, the old man stayed still as a statue, eying Natsu critically. Dread soured the air as Natsu gasped in shaky breaths.

They had him tied up for it. 

Why else would they tie him down if not to do something with that information? A surge of betrayal stole his breath even as logic desperately screamed against it. This was his family now, they would never-

“What's going on?” He rasped, breaking free of his turbulent thoughts, “why can't I move?”

”Good, you're definitely more lucid than you were thirty minutes ago,“ Makarov rose from his seat with a low groan, unusually hunched in his posture as he hobbled over to Natsu’s side. His tired eyes keenly swept over the draconis as he let the question go ignored for the moment.  ”I was worried about you for a bit there.“

Relieved to take the strain off his neck, the draconis followed his chief's steps in rapt attention.

He was never one to ignore a question. Take frustratingly long to answer as he sought the right words? Yes. The chief was a man of patience, something he often butted heads with the fiery draconis over as he seemed to have none. But Natsu was wise enough in this moment to not demand speedier answers. Not when he couldn’t move. 

But the question bubbled in his chest, burned the tip of his tongue and refused to be quashed down. It died on his tongue only when Makarov stumbled, gritting his teeth to quiet the pained hiss that left him.

Gramps was wounded? How? Who- he struggled to sit up again, desperately trying to reach the old man’s side to help him. His thrashing was cut short by the chief laying a hand against his chest, giving a firm pressure to hold him down.

“None of that,” He chided, “I'm better now that you’re awake. Wendy has already had a look and Porylusica will be double checking later. I'd rather talk about you.”

“But-” he tried to remember on his own, what exactly happened during his outburst, who could have- the only conclusion he could figure sharpened his features in a barely concealed rage, “Did that draconis-”

“No,” interrupted Makarov, fingers flexing on Natsu's chest. “. Gajeel has not laid a finger on me. In fact, if not for him, everything would have gone much worse.”

Gajeel …? The name sounded oddly familiar to him but he couldn’t ruminate on it further as the master’s words only served to confuse Natsu, “He's the one who snuck around and said all that- what do you mean thanks to him?“

”... I almost think it's better for you to see for yourself,“ Makarov muttered more to himself than to Natsu but negated the idea immediately, ”no, perhaps not. Not in your condition. Who knows what it would do to you to know the truth so quickly.“

The truth? 

The truth?

Already his earlier ire was starting to rise again, simmering under his skin as heat swelled and smoke started to leak from his nose, ”This ain't making any sense! Can't you just-“

Makarov continued in his inspection, silently ignoring Natsu’s outburst. He examined the magic bindings on the draconis' body and clicked his tongue at the growing singe marks on the sheets. Wordlessly he shot Natsu a look that demanded his silence.

The stony intensity in his eyes cut Natsu off immediately, “I can’t just proceed further without caution! This situation has fallen from my grasp without my knowing! And you especially my boy! I cannot just-!” 

He sucked in a breath to steady his nerves. Natsu could hear the frantic beat of Makarov's heart hammering away in his chest and the old man wobbled on his feet. Natsu whined, “ Gramps please.”

 His shoulders fell in defeat and his other hand found its way to rest atop Natsu’s crown. A calming gesture. But if it was to calm one or the other, Natsu couldn’t tell. “...Before I explain anything, I need you to promise me not to blame yourself.” He continued in a low voice. “In fact, I need you to mentally prepare yourself to remain as calm as you can manage. I won't say anything further until you prove to me you can do that.”

How could he-? ”I can't just not feel things!“ Natsu protested.

”Promise me!“ Makarov's voice was a harsh whisper, bordering on pleading, ”My boy, it is alright to feel, but you mustn't 'react'! Do you understand?“

His desperate plea froze Natsu in place, staring wide eyed at Makarov’s face. At that moment,  he reminded Natsu of another man he wanted to forget. A man who never shied away from his fire even as it was thrown around in frustrated bouts that burned the area around him. 

It was safe then, screaming his rage in a room designed to contain his outbursts til he grew weary. And a comforting arm would wrap itself around his shoulders. Warm eyes that always beheld him with quiet pride would meet him at eye level, accompanied by whispered instructions that held no fear. No judgement.

'My son... it is alright to be angry; to feel it and express it, but you must not react. You must control yourself. Can you do that for me?' 

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and Natsu forced the memory out, nodding vigorously to his chief. “I'll... I'll try.”

Makarov waited in silence for a few seconds, watching as Natsu closed his eyes and took in deep breaths. Allowing his body to relax against the sheets, the burning embers of his body simmered and the smoke dispersed. It was hard to dampen his own inner flame, but with a few more breaths, he managed.

Makarov sighed in relief, “Good. Now keep it tethered. I’ve always known you to have a temper on you but I see now why Gajeel treated your outbursts as abnormal. I don't appreciate him purposefully baiting you. That man took too much pleasure in the barbs he threw at you, but I believe, I think this is something we all needed to see.”

His grip on Natsu’s chest tightened. “Your black fire has always been a point of interest, but never one of danger. It’s become so rare in these past years I'd almost forgotten it. But today…..This level of anger and hatred…. I’ve not seen anything like this from you before; The reports Laxus and Cana gave of your fight with Kage, today's instance hardly compares….. I’m worried for you.”

Today?

What did he mean by…?

Makarov patiently waited for him to connect the dots. He was often like this, giving others the chance to find the truth at their own pace instead of thrusting it on them all at once. But nothing made sense.

Gajeel wasn’t at fault for what Natsu could barely recall no matter how hard he tried. It made him feel light headed as he fought to piece together all that was laid out for him . Annoyance started to take hold. He inhaled deeply to steady his slipping nerves and almost choked on it when a familiar scent coated his tongue. 

The muted scent of charred flesh, burnt black beyond recognition. It wrapped Makarov as he stared down at Natsu, forlorn, waiting for it to click. He didn’t need to see to know how bad the injury was and the truth struck his chest like a pile of rubble crushing his bones. 

Natsu didn't always put things together as fast as the others, but this wasn't something that flew over his head, “... it was me….?”

No. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He searched Makarov’s grim expression for something that said otherwise but woefully found nothing of the sort. 

The limp, his restraints…. The hand on his chest, how didn’t he notice the burns that marred Makarov’s fingers sooner? Panic seized him.

“What did I do?!” Natsu’s terror threatened to choke him. He vaguely recalled Makarov’s order to stay calm but control was slipping from him again as fear sank its claws into his frazzled brain. ”Where are the others?! Did I-“

”No,“ Makarov chided gently as he moved to rest his hand against Natsu's forehead, ”Freed moved quick enough to protect the others from the initial blast while I held you down, but the explosion was bigger than any of us could’ve imagined. If not for Gajeel knocking you out, the Keep may have been lost. I had guessed his affinity with metal, but to see an entire arm turn into it was something else entirely.“

Natsu wished he could do something instead of just laying there. He wanted to run, to cover his face in shame, to sink into the floor away from Makarov’s worried eyes that held no fear. There was only pity in their depths that made him feel worse. His breathing grew harsh as everything began to come back in vague pieces.

The memories were faint and blurred from the anger he'd felt, but with the chief's recollection he could catch the hints of surprised shouts and the crackling burn of splintered wood in his mind. He wouldn't be surprised if the room was nothing more than a gaping hole in the side of the building.  The realization reflected on his face in horror and despair. 

He'd hurt the old man. He could have killed everyone if not for Freed and that damned, filthy metal head and it was all because he couldn't control his temper.

He couldn't remember reason, try as he might, his rage had ignited something that made him blind to everything around him.

The tears that streamed down his face were unnoticed until a choking sob wracked through his body. “I'm sorry... ” He rasped, “I'm so sorry-”

Makarov continued to rub his forehead, shushing him quietly with clicks of his tongue and a gentle hum. It wasn't the same as the night before, when Lucy had held him tight, but the comfort was there. It had always been there. The chief was respected and loved for more than just his leadership and strength, he had always acted as a father or grandfather to the majority of magic users in his home and Natsu was no different.  He shuddered beneath the touch, whimpering softly as his inner turmoil threatened to boil him alive. 

“I told you,” Makarov murmured, voice low and mixed with pain, “it's not your fault. Whatever this is... this madness, it can be tempered now that we know about it. Don't just blame yourself for what you can't control: at least not yet.”

But he could control it, Natsu thought. He'd been taught so long ago to keep his rage in check, the lessons were a part of him for as long as he could wield those dark flames.

When had he begun to lose it? When had he stopped caring to hold the dark vestiges of it in check? He didn't have the time or the mental power to think it through in that moment, too aggrieved by his own actions, but he nodded despite himself, desperately wanting to believe anything Makarov said.

He didn't know how much longer he sobbed, unable to move while the elder stayed at his bedside. All he knew was the anguish at his own mistakes and the wild thoughts swarming through his mind in a tornado of regret. 

If only that draconis hadn't come, if only he hadn't come to Natsu's window last night if only-  he must have begun to mutter the thoughts out loud as Makarov quickly shushed him.

“I'll take care of him myself,” He assured, voice gruff, ”whatever he's after, it's not Lucy. What he has done to you is another matter that won’t go unpunished. He's followed my rules down to the letter, so far. You don't need to do a thing.“

”but...“ Natsu struggled through his words, sniffing as his earlier tears stuffed his nose and made his eyes far too swollen to be comfortable, ”we, I can't just-“

”Natsu,“ Makarov warned, removing his hand to flick the boy's chin in a sharp reprimand, ”as your chief, I will handle it. I can’t let you do anything in this state. His interest is clearly focused on you, not what Jose wants. I beg of you, please, hold yourself back..“

Natsu couldn’t. It wouldn’t be enough. It sounded so simple to do but how could he? Not when everything he’d struggled to build for himself was at stake. Why couldn’t Makarov get that?

”He knows about me…..who I am.“ Natsu whispered, voice cracking as he tried to get his point across.

Makarov hesitated, lifting his hands from Natsu at the reminder of a bold truth. True the questions burned at the old man’s mind. It was another strange puzzle piece to an already complex situation that continued to swell out of his control.  

But what was he to do? The boy before him was just that: a boy as terrified as the day Makarov carried him in his arms to a new life. He rested his palm over Natsu’s heart, the erratic beats thumping wild enough to rattle his bones. 

”A secret you have kept hidden for good reason I'm sure,“ Makarov agreed softly, ”but we all have our own secrets, and yours has been forced from you in a terrible way. It’s something I would like to speak with you about, but only when you are ready. For now I need you to recover. Focus on staying calm in the coming hours: understood? I’ll be back later to check on you.“

Natsu had no choice but to nod his head as another wave of guilt washed over him. Makarov gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he turned away, limping towards the door. It was painful to watch as he dragged a leg lamely behind him despite his best efforts to appear hale and hearty. He could see it now, the burnt edges of his pants, and the tight wrappings of white bandages spotted with red through the charred holes in his shirt. 

He tilted his head towards the wall and clenched his eyes shut, unable to accept the truth that he was the cause of everything. Makarov’s groan of pain was shut out by the door clicking shut, leaving him completely alone.

Natsu bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing back another whine. More tears threatened to spill down his face. Not even the tang of his own blood filling his mouth could distract him. He deserved it for what he’d done.

What else could he do if he wasn’t careful and lost control again? Just how much damage would be done because he wasn’t strong enough? The thoughts clung to Natsu’s mind the rest of the day, unable to think of anything else.

[cloakndagger2]

Emma Frost x Tony Stark married headcannons

So it feels like at this rate we might not be getting a real wedding or marriage out of Tony & Emma which imo feels like a missed opportunity to explore the marriage of convenience trope and have a divorce battle between 2 of the messiest bitches in Marvel, but who knows there’s still another issue to go and anything can happen. In the meantime here are some headcannons

Tony finds out Emma’s a bottle blonde and teases her about it but makes up for it by helping her apply the hair dye in the bathroom

Tony is coy about his whereabouts one day and Emma follows him and finds out about his AA meetings. She listens in to his sharing for a bit before wanting to give him his privacy and heads back home. Eventually Tony tells her about the meetings in his own time

Tony nicknames her Em & Sparkles(which technically isn’t a hc since it happened in the comics ig I just think he would do it often)

In a similar vein Emma is always referring to him as Anthony. So much so that when another telepath or maybe shapeshifter tries to trick Tony into believing they’re Emma he catches on when the trickster refers to him as Tony instead of Anthony

Emma helps him tend to his bruises/wounds

The first time Tony catches Emma wearing his shirt immediately the heart eyes pop out. 1) because it’s the first time he sees her in something so casual 2) because well it’s his shirt duh

The first time Emma tries to cook for Tony is the last time Emma ever tries to cook for Tony as it ends with him putting out a fire and them ordering shawarma. He appreciated the effort though

They bond over their upbringings and daddy issues

Emma mocks Tony for being unimpressive without his suit. Tony in return mocks Emma for being unimpressive without her powers. Leads to them having a sparring session to settle it. Let’s just say they both win

Emma always acts disinterested when Tony rants about his tech stuff but she secretly loves seeing him nerd out about something he’s passionate about

When Riri meets Emma at first she thinks she’s sus(and it’s Emma so like fair) but eventually Riri warms up to her, but not enough to accept her job offers to work at Frost International. And unlike with Tony, Emma never pretends to be disinterested in Riri’s inventions. It’s always obvious she’s super invested, and when Tony calls her out on it Emma just says it’s because Riri’s way cooler than him(which she is)

Tony spoils the Stepford Cuckoos rotten, like even Emma thinks it’s a little much

Emma shows him some moves she learned back when she danced at the Hellfire Club

They calm each other down after waking up from nightmares

Emma initially assumes that since their marriage is a marriage of convenience he has no interest in being faithful or monogamous. Plus she’s used to feeling like 2nd choice because of Scott. It surprises her when Tony is willing to stay faithful and treat her like the queen she is