#be sure to check his stuff out it's great!

[dira333]

Wanna go out? - Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Featuring Kirishima as the best wingman ever.

“You’d probably be more successful if you didn’t already expect the worst,” Eijirou points out from the kitchen.

“I know, I just…” you helplessly shrug. “I know my success rate, is all.”

“You’re not a firm trying to sell a product, you’re a beautiful, fun and kind person trying to find a partner.”

“And how well that has gone,” you joke but without much humor.

“Stop it,” he commands, setting your coffee down in front of you. “And tell me, is there anyone you found nice last night?”

You think back. 

It had been such a nice gesture from Eijirou to bring you with him, especially considering he technically had a date - Mina. 

All the faces and names you’ve learned dance in front of your eyes, but if you’re being honest, there’s only one person who stood out to you.

You hide behind your coffee cup, but it’s too late. You didn’t grow up alongside Eijirou for nothing, it seems.

“Spit it out,” he grins, his eyes full of hope. Oh, if only you could go on without disappointing him.

“Tamaki,” you admit finally, swallowing your nerves.

Eijirou beams up at you. “Really? That’s amazing. He’s an awesome guy!”

“Sure, sure,” you nod, swallowing and swallowing. “But you know, I’m me, so…”

Eijirou’s face falls. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. I can’t remember if I ever had a second date. You know my flaws and-”

“Tamaki is a really great guy,” Eijirou points out, emphasizing the word “great”.

You nod, your heart already sinking. “I got that. Which is exactly why that’s not going to happen.”

“Come on!” Eijirou whines. “You know he’s a little shy, but he’s nice. Why don’t you send him a text? Just ask to do something like yesterday again, hang out a little, chat over stuff. I’m sure he won’t say no.”

“And then?”

“And then you find out if you two are compatible. Or if you prefer staying friends. Don’t expect too much at first, he’s shy, remember?”

You take a deep breath, pick up your phone and stare at the screen. Could it really be so simple?

Eijirou himself is checking his own messages, smiling as he answers one.

Stealing yourself against the inevitable rejection you type a quick message, your thumb hovering over the send button.

“What do you have to lose?” Eijirou asks as if knowing what you’re about to do. 

And he’s right. You’ve been rejected enough times to know how to deal with it by know.

Seconds later, your eyes still on the screen, a little shocked about your own bravery, the blue checkmarks appear. He’s seen it. 

You slam your phone down, overcome with anxiety. If he answers, you don’t want to see it. At least not until you’ve calmed down a little.

“Oh,” Eijirou breathes out with a laugh. “Tamaki’s calling.”

“I need to pee,” you yelp, getting out there as fast as you can.

You don’t know yet that when you return, the first of many messages will wait in your inbox.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Wally West: Barbara, you ever faked it?

Barbara raises her eyebrow as Dick eats her fries.

Barbara Gordon: You're asking me this while we're out to lunch?

Wally: I'm positive Artemis faked it last night. Mostly because she told me. I don't know how to handle this.

Barbara: Don't concern yourself, we all fake our orgasms with guys. It's not you, sometimes I'm not in the mood.

Dick: What loser did you fake it with?

Barbara: You could never tell.

Dick stops eating and looks at Barbara shocked.

Dick: You didn't fake with me.

Wally (enjoying this): I should order dessert.

Barbara: The beach incident and the time you decided to sleep with me when you were downtrodden when Kori broke up with you.

Dick: The two times we had sex?!

Barbara: That's riiiight.

Dick: Wait, wait, wait, the- we only had sex two different times! You faked it twice?!

Wally: I'm just going to eat your burger.

Barbara (laughing): Oh yeah. I have no idea how you're able to satisfy Corey, you were boring and annoying. That time you came into my apartment, soaked in rain I was like 'I just cleaned the carpet', that is how low my libido was that night. Then you were like, 'Kori hasn't returned my calls, can't we have one night together?' It was like I had nothing to do that night so I was like sure I'll check if this vagina still works in a wheelchair.

Barbara smirks, showing her honesty.

Wally swiped Dicks burger as the man was shocked at this new information.

Barbara: That was me paralyzed, but I can feel down there, and hoo-boo, I laid there like a limp fish. It was like 'Christ, you can't hit that spot.' Being real with you, you weren't my first orgasm.

Wally (ordering cake on the small pad at the table): I vault that stuff. You want to split a cake?

Dick: I could- I can hit the spot!

Barbara: Not with me, baby. Not with me. You're personality clashed at every turn. Why do you think I ended things and wanted that stupid rumor of us dating squashed? I trust Wally won't tell anyone.

Dick: Shush, Wally. Barbara what about the shaking and panting?

Barbara: I'm good, aren't I? The dates were already bombs I thought maybe we would be great at sex, a nope

Barbara takes a sip from her soda. Dick stares in the distance and holds his head down.

Dick: You faked... You faked... But I'm Dick Grayson. This can't be.

Barbara: Ask Kori, she's probably doing it with you.

Wally (already calling Kori): Kori, have you faked it in the relationship?

Kori (on speaker, gasps): Who told him?

Dick whimpers.

Kori: Sometimes I'm tired, it's not you, baby. There are factors.

Barbara: Or you're annoying as fuck.

Barbara cackles as Dick lays his head on the table.

[sarah-bear706318]

Summary: When Tyler's baby sister joins him and his team for a season she seems to catch the eye of a certain StormPar member much to her brothers dismay... will she listen listen to her big brother or follow her heart?

Pairing: Scott Miller X fem!reader, Tyler Owens x sister!reader

Warnings: Sneaking around, Pissed off Tyler, Love Struck Scott, ALOTS of kissing, A little age gap, Cussing, Drinking, Storms(duh), Falling in love, Slow burn

A/N: This is my first series so any feedback would be amazing! There isn't much Scott in this chapter but there will be plenty of him in future chapters. I'm writing this with the help of @nikkicloudie she save me the idea for it! Go check out her stories there are amazing!!!

You loved storms just as much if not more then your older brother Tyler. You were 10 years younger then him but you were one in the same. You even followed in his foot steps and majored in Meteorology but, you took it a step further and got your PhD in it at UT Austin. You had just graduated early and your brother was proud so as your graduation gift your brother invited you to join him and the wranglers for the season. It took you all of .5 seconds to say yes.

You still weren't sure what you were gonna do with your degree you had a few job offers from different places but joining your brother could hopefully help you figure it all out. Hey you may even follow in your brothers foot steps even more and become a storm chaser who's knows your life was just starting and anything was a possibility!

It was early evening when your plane landed. After getting your suitcases from baggage claim you're off to find your brother. While looking around you all of a sudden feel 2 arms from behind left you in the air.

"Baby sister" you hear from behind you. You turn around and see your brother's big smiling face. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze as hard as you can. "I'm so happy you're here" "I am too I miss you big brother" he hugs you back and give you a kiss on your temple "I've missed you too sis, come one let's get your stuff in the truck the rest of the crew are waiting for you they can't wait to see you"

You couldn't wait to see the crew you loved them almost as much as your brother.

The ride to the hotel was 45 minutes away from the airport and the ride was filled with stories about about chases the crew have done and some new research they have and things you've been up to since graduation. You haven't seen your brother since Thanksgiving so it was nice to be spending time with him for the next few months.

Once you pull into the hotel parking lot you saw a lot of other storm chasing teams and of course you see the wranglers. When Tyler parks the truck you barley have time to get out before you have a pair of arms around your waist and your feet lifted off the ground. "Dr.Owens you're finally here"

"Boone oh my God put me down before you drop me" you say as you kick your feet

"Boone don't break my sister she just got here" Tyler says shaking his head making his way around the truck.

"I'd never drop my favorite Owens" Boone says with a big smile.

Boone finally puts you back on your feet so you can hug and greet the others. You all decide to hang around, have a few beers and catch up. Everyone is just how you remembered and you know its gonna be a great time. You are about 3 beers in and laughing at some story Boone was telling but unbeknownst to you your laughter had got the attention of another storm chaser and he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Across the parking lot Scott is standing by one of StormPars trucks uploading data to his laptop when he hears a beautiful laugh. His head shots up and sees not only is the laugh beautiful but it's coming from the more beautiful girl he's ever seen and he can't help but stare.

"Hey man you get that data in the system yet" Javi asks as he walks up to the truck. Scott snaps out of the trance he's in and looks to Javi "oh just about done" he says looking back at his laptop.

"Hey who's the new girl over there with Owens" Scott ask eyes still looking down tapping away "she a new hillbilly member?" Javi looks over to Tyler and and his crew to see who Scott is talking about.

"Nah dude that's Y/N Owens Tyler's little sister, she just graduated from UT Austin with her PhD in Meteorology. She's hella smart not to mention drop dead gorgeous don't ya think" Javi says "She's ok i guess". Scott says with a shug, he couldn't let Javi think he had a thing for Tyler's sister could he it would ruin his hard ass imagine.

Back over across the lot the wranglers are still having their reunion with Y/N. "As much fun as this all has been we gotta get to bed got a long day of chasing tomorrow ahead of us radar looking really promising" Tyler says to his crew and sister.

"Hopefully I get to get up close and inside a tornado tomorrow" you say beaming with the biggest smile. "More like your big brother everyday" Tyler says with a laugh pulling you into a hug.

As the crew is putting all their equipment away you and Tyler grab your bags from the bed of his truck. "You think you packed enough stuff Y/N, you know we are chasing tornados not trying out for that modeling show" Tyler says as he grabs 2 of your bags and looking at the other 2 smaller ones still laying in the back of the truck.

"One that show is Americas next top model and 2 I came straight from school so I had to bring everything that was in my dorm, I'll sort it all out and send the rest to mom and dads" you say rolling your eyes. "Plus you there are some pretty cute storm chasers in this lot never know when ill need a sexy outfit" you say throwing a wink to the crew who bust out laughing knowing how protective Tyler is of you.

"No that's not happening " Tyler says looking at you while handing you one of your smaller bags. You look at him and rolls your eyes while taking the bag from him " Yeah ok" is the only thing you say with a smirk.

"You ok with sharing a room with your big brother tonight? They only had 3 rooms left when we got here" Tyler ask while making you way to the stairs. "Yeah that's fine use to do it when we were kids". You make your way up the stairs to the room you and your brother were sharing carrying the 2 smaller bags. When you got to the door Tyler is looking for the key, he finally finds the card and goes to unlock the door but instead of a green light on the handle its red. "Shit stay here I need to go get a new card".

Tyler leaves you on the second floor while he goes to get a new key. You walk over to the railing cross your arms over it and look out at all the other storm chasing teams. As you're looking over the rail you spot a group of chasers looking way more professional then anyone else in the parking lot. Along with the group you a tall muscular guy in a ballcap catches you eye and all you can think of is how insanely good looking he is. Your focus on the cute guy is broken by your brothers voice.

"Got a new key" Tyler says. "Bless you big brother I'm so ready for a shower, food, and sleep in that order". As Tyler opens the door you peak over your shoulder and you swear you see the cute guy looking at you with a smirk.

Tyler orders pizza for the 2 of you while you get in the shower. It was nice to wash away your day of travel. You stayed in the shower longer then you normally would have but the hot water felt amazing you couldn't help it. You get out and start to dry yourself off when your brother yells to you the pizza was delivered.

The rest of the night spent eating pizza, watching tv, and doing more catching up with your brother. "Thank you for inviting me Ty it means a lot. I still don't know what I'm gonna do my new fancy degree I'm hoping being here and chasing will help me figure it out" you say looking at your brother. "I'm happy to help you figure it out sis" Tyler says with a smile.

When the pizza is on gone and you have cleaned up the mess you crawl into your bed with a loud sigh. Tyler laughs and shakes his head. "I've stayed in this hotel before the beds are not that good" "They so when you've been traveling all day and had a 3 hour delay in Austin" You say as you close your eyes. "Ok well I'm going to take a shower you need to get some sleep got a long day of storm chasing ahead, and with any luck you will be inside your first tornado" your brother says while grabbing his shower things and clothes.

"Can't wait" you mumble not able to keep your eyes open any longer. You couldn't wait for your first real chase and with any luck you would see the cute tall guy with the ballcap.

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[firebirdsdaughter]

Have I mentioned today…

… how much I love Nate and Eliot?

[liquidstar]

A lot of you guys in the replies had really good/funny things to say about the concept of a "subaru being technically under house arrest in the felt camp route" tags and I'd love to talk about it w you too but I feel kinda bad taking over ops post 😭

[softquietsteadylove]

Me again! Could I maybe request a follow up to the lawyer/Thena raising her sisters au? The first one was so good and I'd love to see what happens when Gil comes over to make the lasagna. Thank you :)

"Hey!"

Gil looked up from chopping, just barely catching two heads ducking down behind the back of the couch again to resume pretending to watch tv. He chuckled, glancing briefly to his right, "it's okay, I don't mind."

Thena shook her head though, focusing back on cutting parsley with needlessly forceful chops. "They're only lingering so they can ask you invasive questions, despite me debriefing them earlier."

It was funny that she called it 'debriefing' them. But she had warned him that she didn't have much in the way of friends, so don't be concerned by the endless questions of being her boyfriend, or at least liking her, if not being accused of having a long standing affair with her. That, he had blushed at.

He shrugged though, laughing to himself as he caught the odd eye glancing his way again. "They're kids, I don't blame them for being curious. I did kind of come over uninvited."

"Trust me, it's never gone well when I've attempted to tackle our mother's recipes before," Thena muttered, looking at the hand written notes lovingly propped open on a book stand for their reference. She looked down and pointed with the knife, "like this?"

Gil smiled; the parsley looked like it had been murdered and sawed. He nodded, "looks great. Honestly, even finer--the smaller the better when it goes in the ricotta."

Thena accepted the instruction, resuming hacking at it.

Gil winced for the poor cutting board. "May I?"

Thena just watched as he reached over gently. He moved one hand to the back of the blade and adjusted the wrist of her other, demonstrating the rocking motion of a cleaner cut. "Oh."

"It'll be easier on your hand," he suggested lightly, leaving his ears and the cutting board's longevity aside.

Thena eyed him and the mirepoix he was stirring in the pot with sizzling meat already in it. She continued his work, slower and clumsier, but following his demonstration. "Thanks--this is what I was talking about."

He shrugged, though, adding the garlic and tomato paste to the loudly sizzling pot. "Hey, you wouldn't know this stuff unless it was taught to you. I just happened to be in the kitchen with my grandma a lot as a kid."

Thena stared down at her parsley, looking more and more fine by the moment. "Mother knew I was terrible in the kitchen. Father would remind me ceaselessly that a wife who couldn't cook was like a car with no wheels."

Gil frowned, "that's a pretty messed up thing to say. And to your own daughter?"

She gave him a half a smile and a raise of her sharp eyebrow, "you can tell why Mother's keepsakes are all over the house, while I didn't even keep the car that was in Father's name."

He gave her a little laugh at her joke, no matter how dark. "I guess I don't blame you for that. Moms hold the family together most of the time anyway, right?--taste."

Thena blinked at the speed with which he transitioned from one subject back to their dinner. But she accepted the bite of carrot, blowing before popping it into her mouth. "Hm, still crunchy, but it tastes good."

"Adding the tomato paste and frying it a little first helps get that tinny, acidic taste out, and sweetens it." He reached for the wine, adding a healthy glug or two before reaching for the canned tomatoes. He nodded his head, "want a glass?"

Her eyes darted to the living room.

She was a dutiful guardian, mother or not. Gil smiled, though, nudging the bottle, "one glass won't hurt, right? We're not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and they're fine."

Thena eyed the bottle before sighing, "there are some glasses on the top shelf next to the fridge, I think."

She thought, as in she wasn't sure. But Gil wiped his hands off on the towel he had thrown over his shoulder and moved to the fridge. There were indeed wine glasses still in there, upside down and everything. He pulled two out, admiring the light feel and crystalline shine of them.

"Hey," he whispered, pouring them each a modest glass of a mere few ounces each. He clinked them lightly too, although the quality of the glass still made them ting loudly. "To the first lasagne of many, right?"

That made her smile, and his own smile brightened. Whether it was lasagne or anything else from their mother's hand written recipes, he was happy to help with it. She picked up her glass and gave him a gentle smile over the rim of it. "To the inaugural lasagne."

Her lips looked even more full against the rim of a glass, and when she pulled away he realised for the first time that she wore just a little lip colour when they were in the office.

He averted his eyes from the faint pink on the rim of her glass, looking into his own swirl of red wine. Moving back to the pot he smelled the bubbling mixture. "Usually I'd say to let it simmer for a while, but about fifteen minutes should be fine so we can get things in the oven."

Thena nodded after another sip of her own. "Is the parsley cut enough?"

It was now practically a fine paste it was so chopped. The cutting board was stained green, which of course meant a lot of its flavour was stuck in the wood grain as opposed to still in the leaves. But he grinned, "looks great."

Thena rolled her eyes.

"Hey, really," he laughed, reaching around her for the bowl of ricotta to mix the greens into. "And you said you were terrible at this."

She sighed again, letting her eyes drift back to the couch and to the tv playing some kind of reality show. "Just ask them about the first time I tried baking cookies for them. I'm forbidden from contributing to bake sales. I think they nearly called the CDC on me."

Gil laughed from his belly at that. The heads on the couch turned to watch them again but he was busy looking at Thena, who was laughing faintly at her own joke. Or maybe she was laughing because he was. Either way, she had a cute laugh. "Come on, it couldn't be that bad."

She shook her head though, "poor Sersi had to take over for me to get even one pan of edible merchandise. I had to write a note excusing my poor performance."

Gil caught two pairs of eyes fully spying on them, getting caught be damned. But he slid against the edge of the counter to lean closer. "I mean, I would think they could give you a bit of a break, all things considered."

Thena's expression turned gloomy again, staring into her wine. "I think they do. But everything they send home for them to do feels herculean after a long week, or a big case, or soccer, or-"

The oven beeped loudly at them, announcing its preheating.

Thena gave him a light smile again as she retrieved the casserole dish they had selected. "Ready?"

"I'd say so," he replied gently. He picked up a ladle, first putting in some sauce on the bottom. "This helps to steam the noodles and prevent burning on the bottom layer."

"Hm," Thena mused as she watched him layer the first set of lasagne sheets in. "I thought it was a meaningless old tradition. I never imagined there was a reason for it."

Gil looked back at the recipe, "it's one of those things that you only know if you know. I'm sure your mom never thought of adding in stuff like this."

"No, I suppose not."

He gulped, wondering if he should have brought it up at all. But Thena's smile, although wistful, wasn't really sad. He pointed, "it's your time to shine."

She laughed faintly, scooping out the mixture of ricotta and her pulverised parsley. "I'm lucky I have your expertise."

He blushed. She could have asked him for anything, after he had found out what kind of day she'd had when she texted. He would have fished the moon out of the sky if she asked.

She flicked the spoon for the last glob before he layered on more sauce. "I may have to call on you again the next time we open the book."

He grinned down at the noodles as he laid them. Thena's hands were long but slim, her fingers so delicate and pretty. His sleeves were rolled up for cooking, as were hers. She looked half his size, standing next to him. "Any time, you name it."

"Careful Gil," she murmured, and it almost sounded like she was teasing him playfully. "If this turns out well, they'll be demanding you cook for them all the time."

He was pretty sure he would agree to that, whether by the girls' demand or their sister's. "The defense rests, your honour."

Thena rolled her eyes again at his corny lawyer joke, but she was still smiling at least.

"Okay," he breathed as he ladled on the last layer of sauce. "Get some cheese on this and I believe we'll have a beautiful lasagne in about an hour."

"About an hour?" she asked firmly as she sprinkled on the cheese mixture from the bag. "Don't underestimate my ability to ruin an hour's worth of hard work in the last ten minutes."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. Thena was adamant in everything she did, from her casework in court, to her determination that she was a blackhole of culinary ability. "Set a timer for 40 minutes, then we'll check it, and I like to broil it for the last five or so, just to get that leopard spotting on the cheese."

"Yes, Chef," she purred (definitely teasing him).

He buried his nose in his wine glass again. He was just about empty, but Thena definitely didn't drink regularly with two teenagers at home, and he didn't come over to get buzzed anyway.

"Here," she said gently, reaching for the glass with the bottle already in hand. He had a polite decline on his tongue when she pulled his hand with hers, topping him up. "I owe you far more than dinner and some wine, but I guess it's a start."

"You don't owe me anything Thena," he frowned even as she poured herself a little more too. He leaned forward again, "really."

She just looked at him, and she was back to being completely unreadable. He dreaded to think what it was like to go up against her in court; not only was her beauty intimidating, but that stare was cold enough to chill his wine to the touch.

"Are you done flirting?!"

Gil tugged at his shirt collar, only to remember that he had already taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons so he wouldn't sweat in the food.

Thena glared at her sister, "I beg your pardon?"

The head of auburn hair ducked down like a startled dog, but didn't retreat entirely. "When's dinner gonna be ready?"

"In an hour," Thena snapped again, but it wasn't her sharp tone that had the girl trembling. If anything, her sharpness seemed familiar and comforting to her sisters.

"Can I have a diet coke?"

"No."

"Come on!" Sprite whined at her, "you're having a fun drink!"

Gil slid his eyes over to his colleague. The evidence was right there, even if he was the one at fault for it.

Thena let out a loud sigh, matching the dramatic energy of her sister(s). "Fine, you can each have one. But if it's gone before dinner, that's it, it's water for the rest of the night."

"Fine," Sprite moaned as she slid off the couch to retrieve them.

Thena glared at her.

"She means thank you," Sersi offered much more sweetly and docilely, even if it was just to appease their sister's glaring. She crept behind her younger sister, holding onto her shoulders the whole way to the fridge. Her eyes darted between them, "it, um, smells nice."

Gil smiled; they were nice kids. Thena had done a great job with them, clearly. "Thanks, I hope I got everything right."

"You can't do worse than her, dude, trust me," Sprite pointed blatantly at their guardian. "She's, like, find a bone in your cereal--bad."

"It was one time."

It wasn't a joke? Where did the bone come from?

"If dinner isn't for an hour," Sersi swayed on the spot, like a child shyly twirling her dress (although she was actually in yoga pants with a green flannel tied around her waist). "Would you like to watch an episode of Ghost Files?"

"Ghost show, huh?" Gil grinned, putting his hand on his hips. He looked over at Thena, who looked maybe even a little sheepish.

"It's our fav," Sprite added, excited at the prospect of sharing their favourite program. "They find evidence, and then Thee tells us if it would be accepted in court."

"None of it would be," she stated outright, "but they still ask me every episode."

She made it sound tedious, but she was smiling just like the other two as they started to move back to the living room. Gil followed, "sounds like a fun family thing."

"If you two sit up properly, there'll be room for Gil to sit," Thena suggested not-so-subtly.

But Sersi and Sprite threw themselves back onto the couch. One side was clearly claimed by each, Sersi's with a fluffy blanket for her legs and Sprite's with a crumpled up throw pillow and snacks on her respective end table.

They pointed. "Or you can sit on the loveseat."

"Yeah, why else have two couches?" Sprite snickered with a mouthful of roasted peanuts.

"Animals," Thena admonished her sisters, and yet took a graceful seat on the smaller sofa adjacent to the tv. She had sat closer, giving Gil the better seat for viewing. She pulled one of her legs up, leaving the other down and her pencil skirt stretching to accommodate her.

He sat down on the other cushion, clutching his wine glass and trying to focus on the show, rather than how he could now smell that Thena also wore a little perfume when she was in the office too.

[brightwoods]

Does anyone else feel like almost all of the conflicts that had to do with the various character dynamics in Chain of Thorns didn’t actually get resolved, they just unexplainably ceased to exist after two books of building them up because CC didn’t feel like writing them anymore and she didn’t know how to resolve it naturally after how she’d built the issues up so much?

Like how none of the characters but Cordelia and Thomas had any clue about the Alastair and Charles situation and then suddenly in CoT it was like who doesn’t know? Of course Matthew knew and didn’t say anything before and then randomly brought it up to Cordelia in Paris while assuming she knew too

Or how Alastair and Thomas went from how things were at the end of CoI with Alastair thinking it could never work because Thomas’s friends hate him to oh look everyone suddenly is friends with Alastair with no grudge with no development of that in this book at all, just an abrupt shift

Especially the Alastair and Matthew dynamic where Matthew hated Alastair and wanted him to have nothing to do with any of their friends and he spent CoI ranting about him to Cordelia. And then suddenly in CoT it’s like of course Matthew is supportive of Thomas and Alastair and oh look Matthew and Alastair are suddenly not just tolerating each other for Thomas’s sake but friends despite barely interacting and no development actually showing and never getting any mention of the other in their own POVs, just having Cordelia be like Alastair stop being dumb, you’re literally friends with him now

Or like everyone other than Christopher and Grace where it was like oh we don’t like her for how she’s treated us and her friends straight to anyway she’s one of us. Like yes Grace was useful and yes Tatiana manipulated her whole life, but none of that was why anyone changed their minds or opinions? It was just suddenly the flip of a switch when it was convenient for CC

Or Anna and Ariadne where it didn’t so much develop as Anna just acted mean to Ariadne on and off throughout the series and at the end of CoI she wanted nothing to do with a relationship and then in CoT she was just suddenly like sure I guess I do. Also, slightly different note, but I did not like that Anna barely interacted with anyone else for the entire book and she was just off in the corner being an irrelevant romantic subplot for almost all of the book except when she showed up to barely even be shown in the background being sad about her brother being dead

(Although Anna still got more of a reaction than everyone else and his death was poorly executed all around in the sense of how did you write this so predictably and poorly that no one even knows when he died and it’s so background and 99% of the characters don’t care at all and we don’t see his parents finding out or much of Thomas’s reaction or anything and it’s just as if he wasn’t a character anymore 2 seconds later which is a different genre of issue with CoT but similar problem in the sense that both issues made the book feel a lot more emotionless to read)

And how the issues of Thomas and Alastair being together as two men and Anna and Ariadne being together as two women in this time and the issues of what would happen if the fact that Charles and Alastair were gay got out to the entire Clave just disappeared and never got addressed at all. We know how the ClVe reacted to Alec Lightwood YEARS later. We know society was homophobic at the time TLH is set and that it seems like shadowhunter society was a lot less open-minded than mundanes a century later

I understand that Charles being blackmailed and making shitty decisions was annoying but it was like suddenly everyone finding out wouldn’t have consequences and all the other queer men characters were like how could you possibly be worried about this :/ as if they haven’t spent the whole series knowing they have to be careful about who they tell. And then suddenly it was just of course it’s totally fine and safe to have everyone find out and why wouldn’t you be fine with that. And it was really written in a way that had other queer characters like oh Charles is such a coward for not being ready to publicly tell a bunch of homophobic people his sexuality and it just wasn’t it??? And super weird after Thomas was terrified of telling even Anna and Matthew for years. And also, I did not care for the fact that when Charles did go risk getting outed to finally do the right thing, we didn’t even get to see it through any character’s perspective or how that important meeting went, we just got one line of dialogue from somebody else saying that it happened with no details at all. And I can’t think of other examples right now but there were quite a few moments like that where we got one line saying that something had happened that was important to the plot and to characters’ development that seemed like it would have been more interesting than some of what we did get to see where it was just totally breezed over and way too easy and totally background to less important stuff

And then there was the whole no one reacting to Ariadne and Anna dancing together publicly thing was like yeah that’s nice I guess but not realistic and it doesn’t go with the way things have been presented up to that point, it also just feels like a situation where CC was like well this would be easier for me so there just won’t be consequences and then they can easily end up happily together

And then there was the whole Thomas and Alastair thinking they couldn’t realistically be together thing and knowing they couldn’t get married or be known to be together by anyone they’re not close to and then at the end it’s still not really addressed how they’re going to be together? Like there was the laziest write off of the family tree being wrong and then we still are just left to assume that eventually they move in together and suddenly it’s not a problem and everyone’s fine with it? And then I also feel like we don’t actually know if everyone found out about Alastair and Charles’ sexualities after the blackmail or if people are going to assume about Thomas and Alastair or if that’ll cause issues or if no one knows outside of who they’ve told and they have to be careful or what. Which like wouldn’t necessarily need to be addressed if it wasn’t for the logistics of being together as two men in that time being part of the obstacle that they were struggling with being in their way and then it felt like it was totally forgotten to even be one at the end by CC

Idk like I’d love to think they just lived in a world where homophobia didn’t exist but it felt like homophobia was a plot point when CC wanted it to be an inconvenience and then suddenly disappeared just to make her writing easier the moment she didn’t want it there anymore instead of actually addressing the plots she raised with it if that makes sense?

And sorry, I really did not mean to go on a rant this long. And maybe everyone else had a very different reading experience than I did and other people don’t agree with some or all of this. I personally am just very confused about how the book was almost 800 pages long and it felt like so much of the development in it was us abruptly being told that development had happened rather than actually getting to see it and how so many of the issues were abruptly solved in an I don’t want to write this issue anymore kind of way rather than anything actually needing to be worked at outside of the Belial situation

Edit: You know what, I mentioned it in my tags but I feel like it’s annoying enough to put in the body of the post and make it even longer. What the fuck was with everyone outing or potentially outing everyone else just so that characters could openly talk about the queer characters and tell them to do what they want them to? Why did Matthew out his brother multiple times? Like yes, the people he said it to coincidentally already knew, but he didn’t know that. And why was Thomas outing Alastair? The straights got to keep their secrets as long as they wanted and fix their problems more naturally. Why did I have to sit through queer characters constantly having their sexualities and romantic histories to everyone else when they clearly had not okayed it? Why were the queer characters doing so much of the outing? Why were people who cared about them and knew what it felt like to be afraid of the wrong person finding out just broadcasting their sexualities to make it easier for CC to breeze past development to have their things get resolved fast? Why did no character have an issue with it at all?

[ninjagotohell]

I just read a whole wacky thread of people arguing which parent was bad Garmadon or Misako and I’m no longer scared of the Misako defenders

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also quite the illustration in wags being like "'not asking permission' - wags" and plowing through someone expressing a physical boundary but he was already intending to use physical violence & violation & assumed corresponding distress as a tool to get his way....amidst the typicality, "correctness," permissibility of all that around here like five times an hour

[tonycries]

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

Lights, Camera, Drama: Gojo Satoru and Leading Lady’s Off-Screen Feud to SINK Box Office Darling?

“They’ll Kill Each Other!” Insider Source Spills All on the Royal Rivalry Between Hollywood’s Hottest Bachelor and Bachelorette.

Enemies of The Century or Publicity Stunt? Recent Cast Outings Sets Fans Speculating!

---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[blackandblueraven]

My friend gave me for my birthday a heat changing mug... so I made him pins with his favourite character for his birthday.

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[azulhood]

Danny was tired, like 'I feel it in my bones and soul' tired. And he didn't want sleep at home because there's only so many nights, he could spend lying awake making sure his heart was beating in case his parents checked on him.

Currently he was flying aimlessly not really taking in his surroundings, but he could neither sleep while flying or fly forever. Normally he'd sleep over at Sam or Tucker's, but the Mansons had made it clear that he wasn't welcome at their house anymore and Tucker was grounded. Both would sneak him in if he asked, but he didn't want them to get in trouble for him. Which leads him to decide between his two choices, sleeping in a graveyard, or sleeping in a forest.

The graveyard was a little crowded with all the ghosts that called it home but he could probably find a quiet spot to sleep. The forest had a great view of the stars but was filled with traps from both his parents and the GIW after tracking his ecto-signature. Both options weren't appealing, but he wasn't about to chance sleeping on the roof of his house again. There were too many ghost detecting guns attached to it now. Danny sighed, graveyard it was, at least the ecto from all the shades/ghosts would hide him well enough. Decision made, now all he had to do was make his way over there. But first, where the heck was he? Danny looked around at the unfamiliar grey sky and gargoyles littered around and realized he had no clue where he was. He must have flown too far away from Amity without noticing...Again. It was really becoming a bad habit. Danny stared down at the city's inhabitants that were going home or heading to nightshifts or whatever and dreaded the long flight back to his town. And maybe it was ghost instinct, or maybe it was just his exhaustion. But his brain suggested 'What if I just possess someone?' And to him that seemed like a perfectly logical train of thought. He wouldn't control their body or anything, just sleep in their skin...That did not make it sound better at all. Before he could think twice, someone left a general store, arms filled with stuff and somehow projecting an aura of safety. The two thoughts of 'They look comfy' and 'screw it' clashed together in his head as he made the very stupid decision of performing a swan drive right into the someone. "WHAT THE-" "Don't worry, I'll be gone by morning I just need to sleep" Danny cut off the persons freakout-he should really get their name at some point- he would have explained more but the sleep gods had already done their job. This left one very confused, scared, and freaked out Batkid.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Simon Riley who bleaches his hair. (inspired by this)

There’s a weird smell in your flat. And no, for once, it’s not your boyfriend’s awful British ‘cooking’.

"Simon? You there?" you call out, kicking your shoes off and hanging your jacket up by the door.

"M’here," he calls back, occupied. The cat is sitting on the sofa, looking very unimpressed with his dad’s antics.

"Do you-" you turn a corner to see your boyfriend, staring into the bathroom mirror a little too intensely. One of those hair-colouring brushes is in his hand, painting a slightly blue-tinted paste over his short hair.

"Hey, sweetheart." Hr doesn’t turn from the mirror, but it’s clear that he’s struggling to hide the grin on his face as you catch him red-handed. Bleach-handed.

Simon bleaches his hair? It’s not naturally that colour? Not really knowing what to say, you just stand there and laugh a little, before stepping closer to investigate what he’s doing. He’s laid out all the products in no particular order, by the sink.

"Can y’get the back of my head?" he groans, turning his head in the mirror in an attempt to see how much of it he’s covered.

"Sure." You nod, standing on a chair to get a good vantage point over him.

"Missed a spot, Si," you coo, filling in the little section just above his nape that is not covered by the bleach, and lean to kiss his head, before deciding that that might not be a great idea. Instead, you hop down, and with his strong arms around you, reach up to give him a proper kiss.

"Thanks, love," he grins, not-so-subtly checking himself out in the mirror.

"This stuff stinks," you whine, giggling at this new hairstylist development.

thanks for reading! i was randomly inspired :3 i’m working through my requests atm, but they’re still open! check out my masterlist!

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [11]

Vlad is planning something big, something powerful and he’s using his wealth and connections to make it happen. Danny realizes that his parents' tech and his friend's aid isn’t going to cut it, and brute forcing the matter as Phantom is just going to ruin his reputation permanently.

What he needs is another different fruitloop, and thankfully for him the world is pretty damn full of them.

but he needs a very specific fruitloop, the one with a big company, advanced high end tech, so much money they don’t really know what to do with it and preferably they gotta be an absent figure, because Danny is on a mission, he’s not looking to get a new parent (he has his own)

and after some searching he finds his guy

Oliver Queen

Now he just needs to get in on that, and he decides to do that by using what little he managed to remember from Vlad’s “you will be the heir of Dalv,co” rants and Sam’s ideas on environmentalism. cause Queen apparently cares a lot about giving back to the little guy.

Which is great! very important, even if his business kinda suffers from how he goes about it (but Danny can help with that! somehow! he’ll figure it out, can’t be that hard) 

We can’t all be Brucie Wayne, but we certainly can try.  

So anyway, shouldn’t be too hard, he’s got some history in the field of environment stuff what with the whole purple back gorilla thing.

and Ollie takes one good look at this smart enthusiastic black haired blue eyed teen and is like, “oh neat! my very own Tim Drake Wayne” and he just goes with it.

Danny’s hidden power of drawing in rich people is truly something to behold…

Oliver is more than happy to just let Danny do whatever he wants as long as it doesn’t break the law or look bad on him, and no drugs, he was very clear on that.

and Danny is like great, I can now work on undermining Vlad and ruin his plans!

but then… Dinah…

“Oliver Jonas Queen!”

oh shit, full named…

“You are not going to do a repeat of Roy!”

Dinah is very effective, and the whole thing starts small enough.

Oliver personally shows him around in the company, makes sure to introduce him to the important folks.

that evolves into occasionally checking up on him, making sure he takes the appropriate amount of breaks.

then he takes him to a baseball match, he had multiple tickets… would have been a waste to refuse.

Then Dinah insists he tags along for dinner in a restaurant (there were some others, it was actually not awkward at all somehow, quite nice really), this grows into dinner at the penthouse.

It's when Oliver expresses the desire to teach Danny archery, telling him there are a lot of things in the sport that are also applicable to business stuff that Danny comes to a sudden and violent realization.

He's being parented!