#Inspired by a post

[wheneverfeasible]

Inspired by this post courtesy of @steddiecameraroll

wc: 1.3k || rating: E || cw: drug/alcohol use || summary: Steve loses a bet. Pre-Steddie rivals-to-lovers. Ambiguously takes place in a S1 AU.

🔞🔞🔞

“Fffuuckk…”

The word was drawn out, breathy, and cracking in that perfectly wrecked way that had Eddie’s pulse throbbing in his jeans. His mouth had long since gone dry at the sight, his eyes never wavering.

It had started as a bet, a dare, something between two dudes who had had a little too much weed, a little too much beer, and it had been humorous at the time. Sure, Eddie felt a little guilty about it considering his own feelings towards the guy, but Steve had been game for it, so…whatever. He hadn’t really expected Steve to lose the bet after all…

The wet schlick of Steve’s hand only added to the sound of shuddering breaths, the gasping whines as he chased the end, his neck arched back in pleasure. Legs spread wide to give Eddie full view.

“Beat that, King Steve!” Eddie crowed as he landed on his feet, wiping his wet mouth dripping with beer with his whole forearm, eyes sparkling in delight.

Harrington just scoffed from where he was standing nearby, hip cocked out with his arms folded over his chest. He rolled his eyes mockingly. “Please. That’s not even close to my record. I can take you down easily, Munson.”

“Oh yeah, big boy?” Eddie sneered, but there was no heat to his words. “Bet you can’t.”

A competitive streak sparkled in Harrington’s eyes, dropping his arms to stalk up to Eddie and pushing his finger into his chest. “Oh yeah? Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Munson? Let’s bet on it. I win, I get free weed for the rest of the school year.”

This announcement was met with resounding cheers from their audience, but Eddie wasn’t paying attention to them. He was paying attention to the warmth of Harrington’s finger against his chest, the warm breath that wafted over his face that already smelled like beer and Eddie’s weed, the way Harrington’s eyes were lit with mirth and a hint of friendliness towards the town freak. His lips were curled into a smirk of his own and Eddie wanted to lick it.

Eddie caught Harrington’s wrist where his finger was still pressed into Eddie’s chest, pulling it off him to tug Harrington closer. “You so confident you’re gonna win?” Eddie snarked, a part of him telling him to cool his jets before Harrington remembers he crashed his party after selling his product instead of leaving, but the weed and the beer rushing through him from his keg stand wouldn’t listen.

“Then, let’s make it something truly terrifying.” Eddie leaned in to whisper his prize if Harrington lost in his ear…

“Oh god,” Steve whimpered, and Eddie could only watch the pearly flood leaking from Steve, dribbling over his fingers as his hand moved faster, squeezing at the base with a deep moan.

Eddie could feel an answering patch of wetness in his boxers, making him glad for his black jeans at the moment. He shifted ever so slightly in the chair pulled up to the foot of Steve’s bed, where the other boy was propped up against the pillows and short headboard.

He ached to touch, to press the heel of his hand where he throbbed in his jeans, but he only stared, watching Steve with a continued smirk, legs spread out as he lounged back. Even for all of his displayed nonchalance, however, he couldn’t stop the flush in his cheeks as he watched Steve, nor the hungry look in his eyes.

Harrington jerked back at Eddie’s words, staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. He was silent and still for just long enough that terror started to fill Eddie’s booze and weed drenched mind, and he was just about to laugh it off like a joke, to squash his stupid crush down down down, when Harrington moved.

The other boy closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and shook Eddie’s hand off his wrist. His eyes dragged over Eddie before he crossed his arms again and smirked. “You know what, Munson. You’ve got yourself a deal. I’m not King for nothing,” he said with another scoffing roll of his eyes. “I always get what I want.”

Harrington moved over towards the keg without another word, deftly let his teammates hoist him up, and the count began.

“Fuck,” Steve breathily gasped again, his hips making small thrusting motions as his feet dug into the bed below him, giving him the room he needed. His free hand was, amazingly enough, roaming over his chest, lightly tugging at his own chest hair with another moan.

The moonlight filtered in through his open windows, casting his tanned body in a spotlight for his audience of one. Steve’s sweat glistened, the sheen of his shiny and wet tip like a beacon for Eddie’s eyes. At least until Steve’s other hand drifted down, skating his navel, over his hip, and skimmed over his balls.

Harrington didn’t make it. It was close, literally just a single count away, and then he had to drop the nozzle in defeat.

Eddie won.

When Steve’s fingers slid lower, slipping between his cleft to touch the most intimate part of himself, Eddie couldn’t keep his own gasping moan between his teeth. If Eddie had thought Steve might have forgotten he was on display, that was immediately disabused now as Eddie’s sound merely causing Steve to arch against his fingers, a deeper, more guttural moan leaving him.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

“If you lose, Harrington, then I get to watch you jerk yourself off.”

The sound of his name on Steve’s lips, wrecked and needy, sent a pulse through Eddie that had him leaking heavily and twitching in his jeans so much it was painful. The gasp that left him only seemed to drive Steve on further, his hand fisting his own cock tighter, faster, his breath punching out of him with every harsh tug.

“R-right there, fuck, yes,” Steve was moaning, and even though the words were barely anything at all, they were somehow the filthiest thing Eddie had ever heard in his life. “Fuck, feels so good.”

Eddie couldn’t stand it anymore, his wide eyes glued to the purpling tip of Steve’s cock, barely able to drag his eyes away to see the way Steve’s other fingers massaged over himself between his ass cheeks. Eddie’s hand crushed and squeezed his own erection through his jeans, thrust up against his palm for more pressure. The pain was exquisite.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve gasped, the muscles in his thighs and arms bulging, his toes curling in his sheets. Throwing his head back, cords in his neck straining as he clenched his eyes shut, Steve came in thick and hard rivulets over his fist and shooting across his chest with such velocity a splatter even hit his chin. “Eddie…”

Eddie let out a shaky moan, his own dick spasming in his jeans as he released wet and hot in his boxers. The only sound in the room after their oddly in sync panting breaths.

Two weeks later, at another party that Eddie was actually invited to as reigning Keg King, he could only watch with slack jawed awe as Harrington surpassed not only Eddie’s record with ease, but also his own.

When Harrington landed nimbly on his feet, he sauntered over to Eddie with a small smirk, and leaned in close enough to whisper softly in his ear. “I told you, Munson. I always get what I want.” He pulled back just enough to look Eddie in the eyes. “Next time, let’s bet your mouth.”

Then, with a wink, King Steve was swept away into a congratulatory crowd, leaving Eddie wondering…just who had been playing who, and just how soon was too soon to propose marriage.

-

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

Tagged in celebration of first publicly posted smut: @katyawriteswhump

[bismutharts]

IT HAPPENS HERE

based on this post by @likeareligion (with permission), it really struck something in my brain. good things happen every day. we need to remember that

this is part of my project to make a zine a day in april

[nico-the-overlord]

[how-the-feathers-have-fallen]

you're so fucking welcome to cry in my bathroom. you hear me?

steal the spare key from under the doormat or the key under the shoe rack or the key in the flower vase or the kitchen drawer or my favorite candle-

or steal it right out of my pocket.

(what do you mean why do i have so many house keys? ask this house why it has so many ghosts and why they keep leaving me)

break in at 3 am and make yourself at home

cry in my doorway if you can't make it any further

I'll get out of bed and carry you up. we'll sit on the floor of my tiny dilapidated bath stall, going through the box of shitty make-up I never bought and try to laugh

or throw plastic potted plants out the window onto the rusty pile of baby bikes I never rode if you need to scream and watch something shatter. I'd trade a million styrofoam sunflowers for your laughter

or we'll just curl up in a tight ball and lay in the ancient tub, turn on the shower and weep and wail and sob and shout till we're floating in a salt water ocean

who cares if the tile floor's cold. I've got a dozen fluffy robes hooked on the door. We'll build a soft nest to crash on and a fort to protect us. we'll find the old paperbacks I hid in the the laundry basket and read till the sun rises and sets and explodes.

who cares about those stupid lumps of porcelain plastic. they're ugly and I never wanted them. I think I'd rather have you break them than the world break you.

who cares if the tub's a little rickety and the water's cold and the boiler's old and loud and slow and we'll get soaked to the bone.

I'll hold you till you stop crying. and then I'll hold you after. when you need to come back from where you left to. back to my senior citizen tub in my decrepit water closet in the house you're welcome to. back to me and all my goddamn keys for the same empty lock.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (12/13)

all i ever wanted was to be enough for you

July 23rd - "I Don't Deserve You"/"You Deserve Everything"

~

One of the benefits of being both an Ocean and Sky mage was that Callum didn’t get cold anymore. Even with the freezing climate of the lands beyond the Frozen Sea, it was at worst a tingly chill every now and then.

Rayla, however, was not affected by his new magic. He’d given her his jacket and scarf, trying desperately not to let that last one be a big deal (and definitely failing, because it was a big deal), but she still shook like a leaf. There wasn’t even any magic he knew that could help warm her up (he’d have to talk to future-Aunt Janai about that, then), and her cloak had snagged on a tree branch in an escape from an angry mama banther the previous day, so that was just the cherry on top.

The inside of the room at the Starscraper they’d been delegated to was a bit better, at least. Since they’d walked in, Rayla’d immediately curled up in front of the fireplace, still in all her many layers and shivering eventually subsiding.

Now that things had calmed down, that the soonest they could be productive again (since that was what Rayla, as always, was most concerned about) would be the following morning, Callum sank to his knees beside her. She started scooching over to make room for him, patting beside her, but Callum shook his head.

“Let me repair your cloak?”

She looked to the garment she’d drawn around herself, still a bit wet from melted snow, the slush and fabric pooling at her socked feet. “It’s fine.”

“Rayla.”

“Callum.”

He shot her a look. “It’ll just be a quick second. Don’t want you to go cold.”

Rayla ducked her head away from him, biting her lip. Even now, even though this climate was natural and only biting from the outside, she’d still developed some sort of PTSD regarding the cold, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d barely endured that spell for a second, and he still wanted to scream and claw his own skin off at the memory. Rayla’d gone through things he couldn’t even fathom, and now that he was here, now that they were together, he’d make up for those two years she’d gone hungry and cold and alone.

She let him unclasp it from around her shoulders, eyebrows drooping at the corners with gratitude she so rarely let herself feel because she scarcely let anyone help her. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head and got up to drag his bag over, then finally made himself comfortable next to her the way she’d beckoned him to. “Don’t thank me.”

Rayla rested her head on his shoulder, studying the way he threaded the needle from his sewing kit with the closest color match to the fabric he could find; not quite the teal and navy of the coat, but a royal blue fairly close. He had a feeling she wouldn’t care.

“How do you do that with your extra finger?” she murmured, taking it and fidgeting. “I can’t do it, period.”

Callum turned to look at her, smiling a little. “Want me to show you?”

She shook her head, the tips of her horns digging into the side of his neck in just a quick second of tingly pain. “I’ll just watch you and your fancy fingerwork.” “As you wish.” He smushed their noses together, unable to help a little giddy smile at just a sweet moment where they were alone, open, not in danger… It’d been far too long.

Read more on AO3!

[kda-chat]

Evelynn: This is serious. We need to practice stranger danger. I'll pretend to be the abductor in the car. You guys need to avoid being kidnapped. Got it?

Kai'Sa, Akali, and Ahri: Got it.

XXX

Evelynn, driving by: Hey, your girlfriend wants me to pick you up.

Akali: Nah, you're lying. She always picks me up herself.

Evelynn: Well, she sent me to do it. She got hurt.

Akali: No, thank you. Please go or I'll call the police.

Evelynn: I have spicy ramyun.

Akali:[Stops and considers it]

Evelynn: Babe, no. Keep walking.

XXX

Evelynn, driving by: Hey, Evelynn sent me to pick you up.

Ahri: I don't know you. Please leave me alone.

Evelynn: I have her credit card.

Ahri: Can I have it?

Evelynn: If you get in the car.

Ahri, entering the car: Okie!

XXX

Evelynn, driving by: Hey, Sivir asked me to pick you up.

Kai'Sa, jumping through the car window: OH THANK FUCK, KIDNAP ME PLEASE AND TAKE ME AWAY! GO, DRIVE, NOW!

XXX

After the social experiment is over...

Evelynn to Akali, Ahri, and Kai'Sa: You girls didn't even TRY.

[icycoldninja]

Rapunzel (Sephiroth x Cloud)

A/N: Inspired by a post made by @meru-chanowo. Please note that this isn't going to be exactly like Tangled or the Rapunzel fairytales. The story is different; altered to fit the characters' personalities. With that short disclaimer out of the way, I hope you enjoy. 💜

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

Sephiroth sighed as he stared out the window, taking in the lush scenery before him. The sky was a gorgeous light blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds; the grass was a shining green, and the dewdrops that had accumulated overnight were glistening brightly in the shining morning sun whose bright rays also illuminated the entire tower through the window.

"I wish I could go out there,"

He mumbled, folding his arms and resting his face in them. He'd spent his entire life confined in that tall, tall tower in the middle of nowhere; all he knew was the dull brick walls and the little snippet of the outside world provided by his tiny window.

"But Mother wouldn't let me..."

Mother Jenova was a strict, strict woman, who always insisted the outside world was a cruel, dangerous place full of evil people and disgusting creatures. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, she repeatedly told him that the safest place he could ever hope to be was within that tower, safe and sound. Sephiroth had believed her for most of his life, but recently, he began to wonder: Was the entire world that terrible? Was that small meadow visible from his tiny window the only part of the Earth that wasn't corrupted? These kinds of questions created curiosity; curiosity created hypotheses; hypotheses need to be tested.

Sephiroth wanted to leave the tower more than anything. He wanted to explore and see the world for himself, rather than rely on Mother Jenova's words. Not to mention, he was lonely. So, so lonely. The only person he'd ever spoken to was Mother Jenova, and as stated before, she was a strict, strict woman. She would never indulge in fantasies, theories, or even speak of "what-if's", she was all about facts, figures, and more importantly, Sephiroth's safety.

"This tower is the safest place you'll ever be in, child," She would tell him, while brushing his hair out as she did every night before bed. "Here, you'll never want, never need, and never fear. This tower is your home. Don't ever think about leaving it."

But that was the problem, Sephiroth wanted to want, he wanted to need and to fear; he desired so strongly to experience things for himself, to live his own life.

In short, Sephiroth wanted freedom.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," Shouted a voice. Sephiroth turned to the window and saw Mother Jenova waving to him from below, her curvaceous, blue-skinned figure wrapped in a blue shawl, a basket of groceries under her arm. Sephiroth let out a low chuckle, as this was an inside joke between him and his mother. The length of his hair as well as his ethreal beauty made him quite similar to the fairytale princess. In reality, he did not use his hair for climbing purposes; Mother Jenova possessed the ability to levitate into the tower on her own.

"Did you miss me, child?" She asked, setting down her groceries on the small wooden table. "Very much so, Mother." Sephiroth answered, quietly. He had learned over the years that Mother Jenova expected a very specific reply to certain questions, and that if she didn't get it, she would scream and shout for hours, even after her throat turned hoarse. Sephiroth knew what she wanted: To be seen as the perfect, loving mother, the ultimate provider and the only person upon which he should ever depend. In order to keep the peace, he would have to make sure that his words convinced her this was true.

"Oh, while I was out getting groceries, I came across this lovely-looking book and thought you might like it." Mother Jenova fished a thick, hardcover book out of her basket and handed it to Sephiroth. "Thank you, Mother," He said, graciously accepting it. "I shall read it right away." Mother Jenova nodded proudly before heading to the window. "I'm afraid I must go away again," She said, though Sephiroth doubted she was actually afraid. For someone who held such a dark view of the world, Mother Jenova sure enjoyed traveling through it. "I have another errand to run, this one a bit long, so don't expect me home for several days." Sephiroth kept a placid smile as he responded, "I understand, Mother, I'll simply busy myself with this book." Mother Jenova smiled widely before leaning forward and planting a kiss on his hair. "I love you so much, my child. Be well, and know that the world is a dangerous place."

With that, she was gone, having leaped out the window and levitated off somewhere. Once she was gone, Sephiroth let out a loud sigh and leaned against the wall, the new book in his lap. Several times in his childhood, he'd asked to go with her on these errands, and each time, he'd been slapped across the face and told he was an ungrateful child. "When will I get to be free?" He wondered, absently fanning himself with his book.

The answer to his question was soon; very, very soon.

Sephiroth was leaning against the window, his long hair actually trailing out of it, reading the new book Mother Jenova had gotten him. It was an adventure novel, believe it or not, and reading it increased Sephiroth's desire to explore the world himself. He was so lost in the book, he never noticed the man on horseback speeding towards his tower-prison. "Hey!" The man shouted, causing Sephiroth to jump. Mother Jenova had always told him to avoid being seen by humans, should any stumble upon his residence. At this point, it was too late, as Sephiroth and his hair were perfectly visible by this strange blonde stranger, and his horse.

"You live here?" The guy shouted, nervously glancing behind himself for a moment. Sephiroth nodded, throwing aside his book, leaning out the window, and staring at this person intently. "Who are you?" The blondie scratched his head; his horse, which was an unusual bright red, neighed loudly. "I'm Cloud," He finally answered, sounding rather afraid. "Cloud Strife, merc-for-hire. But not right now." He cast another wary glance behind him and continued, "I'm being chased by The Turks. Think you could let me hide up in that tower?"

Several questions flashed across Sephiroth's mind. Who were the Turks? What was a "merc"? And why was he talking to this suspicious, yet oddly cute stranger? He was defying every rule Mother Jenova had ever set for him--and he was liking it!

"Sure, you can hide in here," He said, gripping the windowsill excitedly. "Except...I don't know how you'd get in." Cloud groaned and ran his hand down his face.

"How do you get in and out?"

"I don't. I live with my mother who does all the errands for me."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Well, how does she get in and out?"

Sephiroth shook his head again. "Levitation."

"Ah." Cloud frowned thoughtfully, looking around for something he could use to scale the tower. Then, he caught sight of Sephiroth's incredibly long, shiny hair. "Hey, how strong is that hair of yours?" He asked, completely serious. Sephiroth was taken aback for a second, his brain working to process this information. Eventually, he understood what Cloud meant.

"You want....to climb up my hair?" Cloud nodded; he didn't see any other way to get up into the tower.

"Alright...umm...come a little closer, then." Cloud obeyed, making the horde trot up to the tower wall where he was met with a very long, almost rope-like coil of shimmering white hair. Clearing his throat, Cloud grasped the long bundle, put his feet on the side of the wall, and began pulling himself upwards.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Sephiroth winced; having a full grown man climb up a 40 foot tower using only his hair was more painful than he'd thought. However, he gritted his teeth and stood there, waiting until Cloud reached the window. Then, he took the mercenary's hand and pulled him through.

"Nice place you got," Cloud remarked, once he was inside.

"Thank you," Responded Sephiroth, as he gathered up his hair and flung it over his shoulder.

"You said you live with your mom, right? Where is she now?"

Sephiroth sighed. "She's out...running errands. Or so she says."

Cloud turned around, a curious expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

Sephiroth folded his arms, feeling both guilty and excited. He knew he shouldn't be telling a guy he just met all about his personal life, but he couldn't resis. For the first time in his life, he was talking to a real human--someone other than his mother.

"She leaves to travel and collect things, and never tells me what they're for. She won't take me with her either. I've...been stuck in this tower since the day I was born."

Cloud frowned; his brow furrowed. "Really? Wow...that sucks. If...if you like...I could get you outta here." Cloud had no idea why he said that, especially considering that he was a wanted criminal in most major cities, but something about this strange, beautiful man struck him and made him want to help him out of this trapped life he seemed to be living. Cloud watched with bated breath as Sephiroth's glistening green eyes lighten, feeling his own face heat up in the process.

"You'd do that? Take me away? Why? You don't even know me." Cloud shrugged, not sure of his own reasoning himself. "I dunno... I just kinda want to. So....uhh.?.you interested?"

Yes. Yes, he was. Sephiroth was so interested that he would have flung himself out of the window if he could, but then he remembered something Cloud had mentioned earlier.

"Aren't you being chased by...turkeys, or whatever you called them?"

"Turks," Cloud corrected, "And yeah, I am. But it's OK, cause I'm hiding up here with you, and if we do get spotted, Red XIII can outrun them easily."

"Red XIII?" Sephiroth inquired, confused.

"My horse," Cloud clarified, pointing to the window. "He used to be a warhorse--very fast and very strong. The Turks got nothin' on him."

"So who are the Turks and why are you being chased by them?"

"The Turks work for the royal family, y'know, King Vincent and Queen Lucretia. They're after me cause I'm a mercenary--someone who performs odd jobs, usually violent ones, for money. I've pissed off more people than I can count, most of em upper-classmen." He turned to Sephiroth and realized that the long haired beauty had no idea what Cloud was talking about. "Uhh...you probably don't know what any of that meant, huh?" Sephiroth shook his head, retreating to the shadowy corner and folding his arms tightly across his chest. "No worries, once things calm down a little, we'll leave this place and I'll show you what the world's like." A wide smile spread across Sephiroth's face, one of genuine happiness that filled Cloud with a sense of warmth he'd never felt before.

"That would be lovely," Sephiroth said, a tiny blush beginning to form on his face. "I'm honestly quite excited to see the world...for myself." Cloud bobbed his head in agreement, placing his hands on his hips.

"It's settled then." Cloud stuck his head out the window and surveyed the ground below. "Looks like the Turks have given up the chase--I don't hear their horses anymore." He turned back to Sephiroth, a mischevious glint in his eyes. "Let's make our escape." Sephiroth nodded excitedly--perhaps a bit too excitedly, and sidled up to the mercenary, who leaped out of the tower and landed on his horse, who neighed loudly, but was otherwise unaffected. "Jump," Cloud instructed, holding his arms out. "I'll catch you." Sephiroth clambered onto the windowsill and hesitated; the drop was long and if he missed...

"Just jump," Cloud shouted again. "Red XIII's a tough dude, he can handle it!" That wasn't exactly what Sephiroth was worried about, but whatever. Sucking in a deep breath, Sephiroth took the leap, soaring out of the tower and literally crashing into Cloud's arms. Their eyes met; for a split second, Sephiroth thought he was staring up at a handsome prince.

"Right....should we go?" Cloud asked, looking rather anxious. Sephiroth blinked, then remembered the seriousness of the situation.

"Ah, yes, of course..." He allowed Cloud to lower him to the ground, then circled over to the back of the horse. With some difficulty, he managed to scramble onto it and wrap his hands around Cloud's lean waist.

"Ready to go?" Cloud asked, his face practically on fire.

"Yes, of course."

Though there was much he had left to learn about the world, the way things worked, and Cloud, the mercenary, one thing was certain: After years, and years of longing, Sephiroth was finally free.

[drarreckyninja]

"The Cat" - a Criminal Minds fanfic

@bucker3911

Rossi has never been a cat person. They're aloof and unpredictable as far as he's concerned. But when Hotch returns home with an orange tabby stray he's found in the parking lot, Rossi can't say no to that face. He tries to avoid the furball as much as possible, grimacing whenever it leaves dead animals or other surprises around the apartment. But watching Hotch with the cat is something else.

The unit chief has this way of totally relaxing whenever the cat is in his lap, gently petting its fur as it purrs contentedly. Even Rossi has to admit it's a sweet scene. So when Hotch invites him to join on the couch one evening, how could he refuse? Rossi settles next to Hotch, keeping a safe distance from the cat. But as the minutes pass, he finds himself so engrossed in a story Hotch is telling that he doesn't notice when the cat crawls into his lap, too. He tenses at first, but its steady purring is somehow... soothing.

Hotch suddenly realizes he really needs to use the bathroom. But the cat is quite comfortable and he doesn't want to disturb Rossi since he's only now warming up to their pet.

"Dave, I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," Hotch says, grimacing.

Rossi smiles. "Go ahead, Aaron. I think Mr. Whiskers and I are getting acquainted."

Meanwhile, across town in Morgan and Reid's apartment…

Reid has fallen asleep watching a documentary, his long limbs curled up in Morgan's lap. Derek smiles softly down at his boyfriend, running a gentle hand through Spencer's hair as he dozes. It's rare for the genius to fully relax like this. Unfortunately, after a few hours, Morgan starts to squirm. He really needs to use the bathroom, but there's no way he's going to wake Reid from a much-needed rest. Carefully trying to ease out from under him only results in Spencer tugging himself closer with a soft murmur, like a sleepy kitten.

Derek sighs. There's nothing for it - he'll just have to hold it until their roommate Penelope gets home. Thankfully, it isn't much longer before he hears her chatting away as she enters.

"Garcia!" Morgan whisper-shouts. "I really gotta pee, but Pretty Boy won't budge. Think you can get him off me for a sec?"

Penelope stifles a giggle at the predicament. "Aww, you two are too cute. Let Aunt Penny handle it."

With expert care, she gently lifts Reid's head into her lap as a substitute. Morgan nods his thanks and bolts for the bathroom, leaving Garcia to admire how utterly relaxed Spencer is as he sleeps. Just another day in their unconventional little family.

[lovelastart]

True love's kiss still the same after years

Inspired by this amazing post

[headchamberlain]

"Me when I have the killing people with a rock autism and not the being good at math or science autism :C"

[wheneverfeasible]

Based off this post because I’ve lost all control of my life.

cw: sex trafficking, reference to non-con

Modern au. FBI au. Stobin became inseparable when they both started training in the FBI around the same time, though it started as a bit of not-so-friendly rivalry at first. Robin felt like she had to prove herself as a woman in the FBI, while Steve felt like he had to prove himself as a legacy who has always been a disappointment to his father. A fateful rookie hazing that went a little too far bonded them inseparably, however, and now years later they are the go-to team amongst the younger agents.

Also if you try to separate them then all hell will break loose.

Anyways, so one day there’s need for undercover work. They’ve been tracking this sex trafficking ring for a while and they finally believe they’ve discovered the mastermind behind it all, some newly famous rockstar called Eddie “The Freak” Munson.

So someone needs to dress up like a prostitute and infiltrate their ranks to get hard evidence to put this lowlife away once and for all. As she’s really the only girl on the team that fits the age demographic, Robin is picked as the fake prostitute. Except…well, let’s face it, she’s never been the most feminine of girls. Not a true butch or anything, more a soft futch than anything, but dresses and high heels and makeup? Yeah no.

As soon as Robin wobbles herself out (falling face first in the process) it’s not just Steve immediately telling her no and to go change back into her FBI kit because she looks super uncomfortable and there’s no way they can make her do this, whether or not she could even convincingly play the role to begin with.

And so comes in Steve.

Now, Steve isn’t exactly femme either. While he’s certainly not the butchest agent on their team, he was a jock in high school and even now still picks up the occasional game with civilians or other agents when free time allows. What had once been a respectful firmness to his stomach was now a verifiable six pack, his biceps and thighs filling his clothes out nicely as his FBI workout regimen added some muscle mass.

But there was more to Steve than just the stereotypical musclehead jock. Steve had also been a bit of a prep in high school, and even now still brought some of that with him in his civvies and beauty regimens, especially with his hair. He also opposed to a bit of a shiny lipgloss when the mood hit. And secretly? He’s always wanted do undercover work like this. And it’s not like the victims were only girls.

Plus, though Robin would call him sexist for it, he didn’t like the idea of sending Robin or any other woman into the pits of hell alone like that.

Steve struts out of the changing room wearing the skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen in his life (think like, Julia Roberts’s first outfit in Pretty Woman), except he didn’t shave at all so his hair thighs and chest hair still poke out. There’s no hiding his physique, so he’s going for the whole hairy thing, and he knows it works for him. For any gender.

With a grace that might belie that this isn’t his first time in heels, Steve is on his way to the hotel where all this is going down, slipping in easily, Steve starts casing the place and compiling evidence before the big event that night where hopefully they catch Munson in the act of selling victims to the highest bidder.

Except, while sneaking around trying to gather as much evidence as possible, he runs into Munson himself. Not in some big penthouse full of drugs and weapons and whatever else used to keep the product in line, but in a small little unused room Steve had slipped into to avoid one of the muscled “bodyguards” Munson kept on hand.

No, Steve slipped in and found an anxiously pacing dweeb of man in Garfield sleep trousers and what looked like a homemade shirt with the graphic of a devil face on it, black polished nails being gnawed at by the hunched over form. The figure with frazzled hair matched the images of the mastermind he had seen, though he looked startling different from the persona he put on in public.

Munson’s eyes bugged out a little when he walked in, his eyes taking in Steve’s form with an appreciation that made Steve smug at being the correct choice for this sting after all, but then Munson was groaning in a less appreciative way and slapping his hands to his face.

“I told Dad I didn’t want a fucking hooker,” he mumbled to himself, before dropping his hands with a wince as he held up his hands beseechingly. “Sorry, nothing wrong with prostitutes, darling, I just…now is really not a good time.”

And…huh. Okay. This was the Big Bad Boogeyman who had been giving them the slip for almost a year now? He looked like a wet rat despite being completely dry.

So Steve struts some more, plays his part, simpers and encourages Munson’s eyes to focus on his bare skin and not the slight bulge to his thigh high heeled boots where his gun and handcuffs were hidden. And Munson looks, because Steve is hot and he’s only human, but he also looks really really nervous and lets out a choked giggle when Steve pulls out his charm.

And then Munson again apologizes, says he never met a prostitute before he and he seems like a really nice boy but that he wasn’t the one who hired him and he’s not looking for sex right now, just wanting to get through tonight and go home to his cats, Smaug and Shelob.

Which is unexpected. Even more so when Munson claims he didn’t even want to be there in the first place, that his dad was in charge of setting up the event, though he did so in Munson’s—Eddie’s—name, just as he had been doing ever since Eddie first caught a break for his music in high school. Had dragged Eddie away from his garage band and friends and instead threw Eddie headlong into being a solo artist and creating the persona of The Freak, acting as a kind of shadow manager. Working behind the curtains so that barely anyone even knew he existed.

And…oh. Ohhhhh. Suddenly, Steve didn’t think Eddie was the mastermind they were after. He just looked like nervous kid (who was technically older than Steve but whatever) thrown into the a spotlight not of his own making and made the scapegoat for all of his father’s illegal activities.

Not that Eddie knew anything about the current operation, that was more than evident. He thought it was an actual auction for like antiques and shit. Thought the only person being sold that night was a date with him, his father’s idea. It was why he was hiding out in an unused room to have a little freak out away from everyone treating him like a doll to do whatever they wanted.

But his father had suggested bringing in some hookers to help him calm down, which Eddie had rejected, but which he now thought was what Steve was. Just a hooker his father had bought for the night to help his son relax.

And Steve thought his father was a piece of work.

They talk, Eddie’s nervousness and discomfort in his life causing him to spill secrets he otherwise never would have, not just about his father’s past but also his own, talking about how much he missed his high school band, the Dungeons & Club he used to run, his uncle he hasn’t seen in years, and just a life where he could live it how he wanted.

Much to his surprise, Steve also revealed some truths about himself. Not about his real job, of course, but about his own father, about not ever being good enough for him or his mother, about how they had always held his inheritance over his head until he’d told them to stuff it and that he wasn’t going to marry some socialite of their choosing. He smudged some details about his work, which he felt weirdly guilty for, but needs must.

And well, Eddie’s babble reveals that they really have to change the focus of the sting, which means Steve needs to get a message to Robin pronto. Luckily, she should be nearby undercover as one of the hotel staff with a couple other agents.

Steve does get the message out, but in the process the truth is accidentally revealed to Eddie and he is devastated. He had known his father wasn’t a good man, but he hadn’t realized just how evil he was. He was also, surprisingly, hurt by the knowledge that Steve was just doing his job and the connection he had thought they’d formed wasn’t real.

Except, as Eddie worked with the FBI to take down the operation, getting shot by his own father in the process in a misguided attempt to protect Steve, Steve can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a genuine connection after all.

Later, Steve visits Eddie in the hospital, bypassing the armed guards outside because, while they have proof it was Al Munson behind the sex trafficking and forcing the victims into prostitution, Eddie is still a person of interest as a witness and they still need to fully clear his name regarding any knowing involvement.

Robin, of course, was sick of hearing Steve mooning about Eddie and encouraged the meeting, though she later regretted it when it just caused Steve to talk more about the former rockstar—Eddie was quitting, hating the lonely fame, and wanting to reach out to his old friends and apologize for abandoning them. She was fond of the man’s cats, however, going with Steve to make certain they were taken care of while Eddie was convalescing in the hospital.

Later again, once Eddie is cleared and the trial is over and Al is rotting behind bars, Steve meets up with Eddie when it’s no longer a conflict of interest. He also reveals that he kept his undercover outfit and the two of them put it to good use.

Robin, meanwhile, has likewise grown closer to one of the former victims, a young woman by the name of Chrissy. She had helped her and the others deal with everything, especially those who felt uncomfortable around the male agents. Eddie of course apologizes profusely to her when they meet, but Chrissy knows he wasn’t a part of it and actually helped save her and the others in the end, bringing him into a hug that helps heal the both of them a little bit more.

Steve and Robin and the rest of the team are honored for their work, but to them the real honor is in the loving embrace of those they saved, and who in their own way saved Steve and Robin too.

-

Hostage tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[bismutharts]

'tis the season. happy april fools, and thanks to everyone whose jokes i copied down, so thanks to:

@toastyglow @ehlers-world-problems @streetlight-spam @spidermanifested and @fwizard

i have decided to do a zine challenge this april. a zine a day, hopefully, inspired by @koddlet's zinetober last year, so there's more to come, hopefully. i'm typing this on the 31st of march, so i'm giving myself a headstart

[memorytales]

life and no escape i’ve been thinking as of late about who we love and who we hate about what makes us believe in fate all the sorrows we’re left to taste happy moments no one can waste ah, love, put your hands around my waist we’re alive and there’s no escape if only we could spread love like the plague ! give me a proper kiss, don’t be chaste for all the seconds we’re told to wait flustered skin, pupils dilate gentle sin, you’re my favourite date i’ve been reminiscing as of late...

[hydrattan]

I was feeling agitated and artblocked yesterday so I decided to give my brain a rest by watching TV and then the next thing I knew these were in front of me

[sadclowncentral]

my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.

it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.

it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords

[starrysharks]

ghanaian miku