#i know some people will roll their eyes & i debated posting this at all but i simply had to get it off my chest once and for all.

[booksandabeer]

Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply scroll on by.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.  

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As to the “standing in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can stand in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.

--------

¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ instead of sleeping, satoru and your daughter argue over what to name her stuffed dragon.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.9k words. established relationship (#married). the toddler dialogue is purposefully not structured correctly since it’s words from a toddler. fem!reader. intended lowercase. warning: you will wish you had a kid with gojo after reading this.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊this was gonna be a basic thought post, but i got more and more interested in the concept and was like “y’know what? fuck it, ima just make this into a full fic.” so here we are with a more full look at dad!gojo <3.

satoru mumbles, "but i think he likes being called spike,” and it's obvious that he's sulking. you don't even have to look up from your book to confirm it.

“well, you don't know him like i do!” your daughter replies, tucking herself into your side.

you flip through the picture book's pages fast, just getting brief glances of its colorful illustrations. unicorns, dragons, knights, and princesses decorated the pages. after turning the last page, you sigh and put the book down on the nightstand. despite the fact that the book was designed for toddlers, it actually looked interesting. you just know you would love to read it to your toddler. you can imagine yourself reading it to her, seeing the excitement on her face as she explores the world of fantasy—her absolute favorite genre.

but unfortunately, that image in your head will have to wait for another day, because her attention? is completely taken by the debate between her and her father.

how the argument started is beyond you. just ten minutes ago, you and satoru were snuggled up on your daughter’s bed, trying to read her to sleep. and now? satoru and her are in a heated debate over what to name her stuffed dragon. it's tough not to be amazed at how something so easy can become so complicated with him.

"i bought him, drove him around in my car, and wrapped him up in a cute little box for you. i think we know each other pretty well.” satoru smiles and reaches across the bed for the dragon.

“nuh-uh! he not even like you!” your toddler, with her tiny hands and puffed cheeks, clutches her stuffed dragon tightly against her chest. the plushie, its vibrant green scales and friendly eyes, seemed to come alive in her hold.

he retreats back to his seat on the edge of your daughter's bed, his lips curled into a frown as he asks, "how come?"

her mouth opens, then closes again. you look away for a moment to give satoru a look of disapproval, and by the time you return your attention to her, her brows are already starting to furrow. she mumbles under her breath, "because," running her small fingers around the plush dragon’s ear. she looks to be at a loss for words, as if she hasn't come up with an answer to satoru's question.

but that's okay, since you—happily, do.

"because you’re taking his time away from storytime. and satoru, in case you didn't know? when it's time to go to bed, we have storytime.”

your daughter looks up, her face beaming as she screams, "yup! and mommy picks the super-duper bestest stories ever!"

satoru gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he rises from his bed and holds his chest. "baby, who's side are you on?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm just sa—"

"oh, sweetheart," he mumbles as he rushes around the corner of the bed, his movements quick to reach your side. without wasting a second, he rests a palm on your forehead, checking your temperature with a clear look of false concern. concerned people don’t have to hold back the urge to smile. actually, they don't have a smile at all—but for some reason, satoru does, and he's terrible at hiding it. "are you sick? having some hallucinations? is that why you've decided to side with enemy?”

your daughter giggles, and it only feeds satoru's act.

he turns his head towards the source of the giggles. a playful pout forms on his lips as he teasingly asks, "or did this little munchkin of ours use her princess magic to change your mind? she has a way of doing that to me sometimes, y’know."

his free hand reaches towards your toddler, fingers wiggling in anticipation. as his fingers make contact with your little one's soft, ticklish skin, even more giggles slip past her lips.

she tries to squirm away from his touch, but that's when he adds another hand to the tickle fest, and all chance of escape is gone. at that point, she visibly gives up, curling into herself to try to halt her dad’s tickling.

“i-i don’t have powers, daddy!” you daughter manages to stifle out through her laughs. you smile at the sound—it’s one you'll never get tired of hearing.

"you can't be a princess without powers! every princess has powers!"

“i-i'm n-not a princess though!“

satoru's fingers pause in their spot, his eyes widening in disbelief. "not a princess? how on earth can that even be?"

you’re sure if she needed him to, he could easily write an entire book about how she’s a princess.

he scoops her up from her place next to you, careful not to let her dangling legs hit you in the process. she lands on his hip, her eyes fixated on him as he lovingly whispers, "you're daddy's little princess!" he pauses, then adds, "and mommy is the queen, so that makes me—"

“the king?”

“you’re just so smart, huh? see, a perfect quality of a princess.”

“but princesses have dragons! big ones with so many pretty colors and names! they go—“ she cuts herself off and raises her tiny arms high. with a wide smile on her face, she takes a deep breath and lets out a loud roar.

satoru nods and smiles warmly at her, "oh, i see...well, y’know what? not all princesses have dragons.”

she tilts her head, and you awe at the sight. “they don’t?”

"nope," he says, taking her tiny hand in his, wrapping it securely around his finger. he lightly massages the back of her hand, and it’s soothing—scratch that, reassuring. you can tell from the way your daughter leans her head on his shoulder, tucking herself in the crook of his neck. "you don't need a dragon to be a princess. you're my princess ‘cause you're kind, smart, and full of love. i'd say that's all you need to be one."

"really?" she asks, waiting for his nod before continuing. "okay…but i still want a dragon."

"i get it, munchkin," he hums as he takes the dragon plushie from the bed. "we still haven't figured out a name for this guy, hm?"

“nuh-uh!”

“he looks like his power is being super cuddly. he's so cuddly that he puts you right to sleep…how ‘bout…fluffy?"

“ew.”

“fluffy sounds cute, no?”

"but dragons aren't cute. daddy, they breathe fire."

"wel—" satoru begins, but your daughter interrupts.

“his name should be fireball!”

“satoru, she does have a point,” you assert.

she really did. it was a dragon, not something adorable, but something that’s usually thought of as a villain—or a protector. athough deep down, a part of you just wanted this little debate to finally wrap up so you could finally catch some much-needed sleep.

“i thought i took away all of her princess magic?” satoru frowns, "stop siding with the enemy!"

you can't help but snort at his comment. mostly because, for whatever reason, he’s taking this dispute very seriously. so seriously that he doesn't seem to notice you're trying to do anything to finally get to bedtime. "baby i was just sa—"

"who says this dragon had to breathe fire anyways?" he interrupts.

when your toddler goes to respond, it hits you. "what about fluffy fireball?" you mention. it's a perfect combination of the two. well, okay, maybe not a “perfect” combination, but it's good enough to finish this debate.

if you weren't so tired, you’d stop and ogle the way they ask "huh?" in sync.

you shrug, "well, why not? he is pretty fluffy and spits out fire. there can’t be a better name than that."

your daughter holds out the dragon, looks at it for a while, then brings it up to her ear.

she gives the impression that he’s nodding his head before hushedly saying, "got it." she then turns back to face you and yells confidently, "fluffy fireball agrees!”

"well, i don't agree," satoru huffs. "the name is way too long an—"

“satoru.”

“but—“

"satoru," you say more firmly, and his shoulders sink as he mumbles "okay" beneath his breath.

your daughter lets out a yawn, and your eyes are immediately drawn to her. you signal for satoru to come over to the bed, and he does, bending down to your level.

“is my girl sleepy?”

"um," she pauses and looks at her dragon. "just a little bit."

"i can tell," you say, gently rubbing her back. you sneak a quick glance at your husband, and he looks the other way because he knows it's way past her bedtime. you sit up next to her ear and murmur, "i think fluffy fireball is ready to go to sleepy-time."

she gives the dinosaur a look before asking him, "y’wanna sleep with me?” then, she shakes the dinosaur's head up and down before exclaiming, "okay!"

you watch as she leaps out of satoru’s arms, and plops down on the bed. the room fills with giggles and the creaking of the bed as she scampers towards the middle. once she's next to you, she settles in and gets comfortable.

you can't help but smile as you see her tiny hands reaching out, playfully fluffing the pillows around her. then finally, with a satisfied sigh, she snuggles under the covers, cocooning herself in warmth.

she sets her dragon on her left side, making sure her loyal companion is there to do his job and look after her (the princess). it’s cute really. however, if that dragon becomes even a little bit too comfortable with the job, you know satoru will undoubtedly compete for the position. he'd say, "it can't just show up one day and take my job," or something along those lines. knowing him, he might even contemplate throwing it away—who knows.

you’re jolted out of your trance when your daughter asserts to her dinosaur, "you can sleep on daddies side, he snores."

satoru gasps, “i do not—“

“yes you do!”

“when have i eve—“

"guys," you sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your voice. you cast a glance at both of them, making sure you have their undivided attention before pressing on. "c'mon, let's all take a breather and save the debate about your dad's snoring for tomorrow, okay?"

"but mommy, tell him he snores!" she whines. "he goes—" she cuts herself off to mimic satoru's snoring, and his face is priceless.

"now that’s just rude. how can you speak to me so coldly?” satoru scurries underneath the covers on the side of the dragon. and just like that, your daughter and her dragon are nestled between the two of you.

“this’ll be settled in a family meeting tomorrow. you two have already had one debate today. so right now? lets all go to bed.” you declare, then nestle deeper beneath the covers, closing your eyes.

as the voices of saddened "okays" and "alrights" blend together, a collective sigh fills the room. the sound of a click follows, and even with your eyes closed, the absence of light is unmistakable. it makes you feel even more exhausted than before.

you feel satoru’s arm slide around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. meanwhile, your daughter stirs slightly, searching for a more comfortable position in the cozy space between the two of you. you can feel her movements, her small body nestled snugly against yours.

you snuggle impossibly closer to your pillow, and take a deep breath.

silence, that’s what follows—and it’s nothing but peaceful. that is, until satoru bursts out laughing. "i don't snore," he blurts out into the darkness, his voice filled with mischief. "i just provide a little background music for the night."

it's at this point that you decide to be extremely biased at the family meeting tomorrow. he’s not winning a damn thing.

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts. 

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

[formulateez]

mission failed (TEASER) | op81 + ln4

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader x lando norris

genre: filthy smut with a hell of a build up summary: the last time oscar and y/n had their fun, lando had to hear all of it. out of playful retaliation, he tries to fuck with them as a joke, but it backfires and he ends up literally fucking with them. word count: definitely something over 4-5k words, it's not exactly finished right now note: for the sake of the plot, oscar and lando share an apartment in monaco and y/n has been friends with the both of them for quite some time now :D

warnings: 100% nsfw, threesome, lots of making out, oral (m and f receiving), just barely any mxm but its not really the focus here, someone gets restrained for a moment, use of pet names, definitely more but i have yet to actually reach the smut part! i also haven't decided if i wanna make it a dp fic or not... :P requested?: no, but @/ay7ton's reblog gave me the inspo for this fic so i felt inclined to write it bc who wouldn't wanna get tag teamed by landoscar :D

extras: dividers and banners made with template from @/cafekitsune !! gif is from @/oqiwans !! // also!! if anyone would be interested in being in the taglist for whenever i get to posting this fic, feel free send me an ask or a dm!! <33

Oscar listens closely for the sound of the door locking, almost guaranteeing a few moments of privacy. You could feel Oscar almost tense up, looking over to your left to glance at Oscar. Before you could have a chance to speak, Oscar's lips already found themselves on yours.

Despite your eyes widening, you don’t hesitate to return the kiss. It’s gentle yet still heated, leaving shivers trailing down both of your spines. Almost as if neither can get enough, the kiss deepens, and Oscar moves to softly push you onto your back.

Oscar's hands roam your body with familiarity, while your hands find a slight grip in his hair. Your hearts nearly pound in unison as you both knew that Lando could walk into the living room at any moment. The both of you fought to keep your situationship a secret, but the adrenaline from the risk of getting caught brought too much excitement to pass up. You find yourself consistently peeking at the bathroom door, almost bracing for Lando to interrupt the moment.

Oscar's lips softly graze your cheek as he starts to trail kisses down your jaw, making their way to your neck. You lightly grip Oscar's hair, silently warning him to not leave any visible marks.

Oscar’s lips briefly tug into a smirk before he softly whispers, “Pretty girl, you know pulling on my hair like that is just going to make me wanna mark you even more.”

You rolle your eyes as you tug him down by his hair to connect your lips again. Both of you were momentarily distracted and didn’t notice that the shower had just shut off.

Panic flashes through Oscar as he hears the door unlock, and he abruptly breaks apart from you. You almost didn’t want that moment to end, and you found yourself wishing that Lando would occupy himself just a little longer. You couldn’t help but want to steal a few more kisses from Oscar. With the way Oscar's final glance towards you appeared, it seems as if he thought the same. The both of you quickly situate yourselves and return to whatever you both were previously doing on your phones.

Oscar debates in his head before opening his mouth to speak. “I had fun watching those two Transformers movies with you earlier. I used to think the movies were kinda corny but they’re fun to watch with you.” You felt a slight blush creep onto your cheeks as a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you contently sigh, “I had fun too, usually people don’t really enjoy my taste in movies.”

Oscar returns your smile before taking a step towards you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Gently grabbing your waist, his voice drops to a low, intimate tone. “Speaking of which, I was thinking we could continue that fun in my room. Free from the worry of Lando wondering why we’re taking forever to clean up.”

[blueberry-pride]

How do you think trey, Idia, rook, leona and kalim would deal with having a sweet and cute s/o who is convinced the boys are the cute ones of the relationship and s/o is puzzled when other people don’t agree with the guys being the cute one? They’re convinced other people have bad tastes. As hcs please :))

Don't Deny It Babe~

warnings: Berry's grammar, semi proof-read and like two curse words

Berry: I greatly apologize for those who have been waiting for these since February from the 100 followers event. And thank you all for the overwhelming support from the last post, love you guuys 🥰

"Are you sure about that babe? I mean..." He chuckled as he scratched the back of nis neck.

Trey would be as confused as the others at first when he heard you claim that he's the cute one in the relationship

Would just have a sheepish smile as he rolls with your antics cuz why not? you're not hurtin anybody but he does get shy when you would debate about it ESPECIALLY with the other Heartslabyul members

Moments like these happened often, which would gradually led to Trey feeling more comfortable and started teasing you about it when the opportunity presents itself. like putting a dash of flour on your nose to have flustered or even calling you 'cutie' at times~

I also see as this goes on that he'd be the one to tell Heartlsabyul or among close friends that you're cute just to see you're reaction. (goodluck (Y/N)!)

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked Pillow, ain't no way in hell I'm...'cute'"

He's the type who wholeheartedly disagrees about your statement more than others. Just imagine Savanaclaw. Ruggie was legit concerned about you when you told him.

He'd do that thing where whenever you guys are walking around campus, his arm is always draped on your shoulders just in case if ever the convo is directed at him being the cute one, he'd clamp your mouth and say farewell to whomever you're both talking with

I also see that when you're trying to convince him, he'd squish your cheeks so you're mouth would be puckered as another way to shut you up (may or may not lead to a kiss) He'd look into your eyes and smirk.

"Now who's the cute one now huh~?"

Even if he realizes it or is just in plain denial (stubborn ass) He'll slowly just let you go with whatever you're spouting about him cuz honestly he likes it when you debate about it ESPECIALLY if it just so happens to be with Vil. "Yeah Vil, don't you see I'm fuckin AdOraBlE?"

"Eh? Sunshine, you think I'm cute?" Kalim's eyes lit up as he looked at you to which you affirmed with a chuckle. Kalim stood up and ran towards the kitchen. "JAMIL , (Y/N) THINKS I'M CUTE!"

You know, we know, the entirety of NRC knows, he's one golden boi whenever you call him cute or talk about it with others.

Give some moral support to Jamil cuz he's gonna be hearing this everyday from now on. "Hey I know we have this important dorm leader meeting to attend to in a min but (Y/N) called me cute again toda-"

When it comes to people that says otherwise, he's likely to pull you out of it before it drags on. He'd chuckle as he drags you back to Scarabia for some afternoon snacks to distract you~

Would start giving you more compliments but not the ones that are generic like "you look good today" but rather he'd say "Y'know I really like it when you do this little quirk of yours. I find it really interesting cuz it's well...you" all said with a genuine smile and a soft gaze. (ma heart)

"Ma belle my heart swoons over your flattery~" Rook smiles as a faint blush grows across his cheeks. I see him being flustered but is just really good at hiding cuz internally he's like 'I've been complimenting other people all my life but now?? You came along??'

Would lovingly watch you argue if people say otherwise. Cuz despite you claiming that he's the cute one, why not you AND him? well just between you two anyway and who cares what other people think!

He's in it for the dramatics both in private or in public so when you compliment him, he'd like put a hand on his chest, go down on one knee and act as if he's part of a play~

you two test Vil and Leona's patience istg

Whenever it's time to print out his photographs of the two of you, he'd write little captions on it "I'm the cute one, she says~" or "there are 2 cuties in this picture." It's corny but this man is in love knowing that you see him that way <3

All I could think of at first is that this man would have war flashbacks to that time he got abducted by Eliza

"EH??" Idia exclaimed. Straight up denial like Leona but I see this fire son of a- would just start talking in immense speed and list down all the possibilities on why he's not.

Remember that one groovy in ghost bride where his hair turns slightly pink cuz everyone was flustering him? yeah his locks went from #3a8df7 to #FA86c4 through majority of your guys' relationship

Though... that's in public. But when its just the two of you in his room, he'll slowly warm up to your claims (along with some persistence from his bro Ortho like him randomly leaving sticky notes with the words 'you're cute, stop it.' printed on it)

"Heh,I mean I guess..." His cocky smile grows. "My archetype in an anime or a video game would be seen as cute~ would that mean I'm your Oshi then (Y/N)-shi~?"

[eideticallys]

The Cure to Injuries

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 1.8k

author's notes: this is the first fic i have ever written since my stay on wattpad during grade school. so, forgive me for any mistakes & cheesiness that bled into it. spencer is too cute and he deserves more softness in his life. anyway, i hope you'll enjoy what you're about to read as much as i enjoyed writing it. i hope you'll like & reblog if you find this fic good. please do tell me if you want me to write more because i will! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

GROWING UP, YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN YOU WANTED TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP PEOPLE. The first job you thought of was becoming a teacher. However, you realized that making lesson plans and dealing with naughty kids weren’t your thing. 

The next one was becoming a lawyer. But, you’ve had enough of seeing your dad being buried in paperwork and your family telling you, "You’d be a great lawyer! You literally enjoy debating with everyone."

Then, you thought of becoming a doctor. You were good at science, and you found the human body interesting. That was your dream until you had to see your friends vomit literal bile on the sidewalk and have their stomachs pumped after a night of drinking. After that, you didn’t think you could deal with vomit and other possible human excretions in the future.

Luckily, one sunny day, your brightest idea of what you wanted your future to be like finally came to you. You wanted to work for the FBI. You’ve always been a bit too interested in criminal justice, but at the same time, you wanted to fuse it with your interest in science. So, you’ve decided that becoming a profiler is your end goal.

You just didn’t think about how becoming one could involve getting bruised and battered, possibly even shot at and blown up, and you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

"Ow! It’s good you aren’t the medical doctor kind of doctor because your patient would definitely file a complaint against you." 

You huffed and puffed, as you gingerly sat on the ambulance, accompanied by your co-worker, Dr. Spencer Reid. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as he continued prodding you for other injuries. 

The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, has been your workplace for almost four years now. You never thought you’d get here after you realized that you don’t only need brains to become a profiler but also brawn. Fortunately for you, you were too smart for the FBI to pass up on, and, well, you at least passed your physical exams—albeit barely but still enough to get to where you are now. Oh, the dream!

Where you are right now, despite that, is definitely not the dream. You were presently black and blue after being the one to take down and make the arrest of the unsub who had abducted children in Kentucky as surrogates for her deceased child. Despite your injuries, the day ended on a positive note. All the children are going home to their parents alive, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Well, that, and the incessant flocking of your co-worker, who just so happened to be the person with whom you have harbored romantic feelings for quite some time now.

"What you did was stupid, Y/L/N! You could’ve gotten killed, going in there like you’re bulletproof or something," Reid exclaimed, complete with the hand gestures and the word vomit when he’s excited or worried. "Did you forget what happened five months, seven days, and three hours ago? You got shot in the arm!"

In this case, you’re positive he’s about to pass out from all the talking and lack of breathing.

"You know, Reid," You chuckled in amusement and said, "I’m more concerned about you keeping track of the exact date and time I got injured. Are you sure you’re doing that out of concern for me as your coworker, or is it because you secretly have feelings for me?"

The doctor paled, his pouty lips opening and closing like those of a fish, swimming in the depths of the ocean.

"W-what?! What do you mean I have feelings for you?"

That made your heart twitch, and not in a good way. You knew the doctor couldn't reciprocate your feelings. He just happened to have a phenomenal memory. He can’t help but store random information; he has no choice but to remember. But, you can’t help yourself. A tiny part of you still yearns for him to return your feelings. Oh well, you’d rather have him as your friend than nothing at all. But, a little teasing won’t hurt, right?

"I’m kidding, Reid," you snickered, "I know you know that piece of information because of that eidetic memory of yours or whatever."

"It’s not just because of that, you know," Reid sighed.

That gave you pause. It seemed like your world stopped turning and nothing else mattered. It couldn’t be, you thought, there’s no way he likes you back. You’re you, and he’s this otherworldly guy. You can’t even believe he’s real.

"What?" You chuckled nervously, tugging at your ear gently, "What are you saying, Spencer?"

Spencer sighed and frowned, "I know I was the reason you got shot that day, Y/N. I saw the glint in your eye when you thought the best way to save me from getting shot was to push me out of the way and shield me. And that was a stupid move, by the way."

Your jaw dropped. You were about to say something, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Let me finish first," He said, raising his index finger as if to say I still have a lot to say, "It’s stupid because you almost got yourself killed. I was about to move out of the way when you covered for me and you got hurt! You got hurt, Y/N! How was I supposed to live with myself if you ended up dying that day because of me? How, Y/N?"

"But I didn’t! I’m here, Reid." You’re scowling now and about to rant Spencer’s ear off. " What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I wanted to save you that day? Because I’m not!"

You know that what you did that day was incredibly stupid of you. What Reid was saying was true. You could have died that day, but you were too selfish to admit that. You were so selfish that you couldn’t imagine living a life without Spencer Reid in it if you hadn't pushed him out of the way and ended up hurting yourself for it. And you have had no regrets to this day about doing it.

"That’s the thing, Y/N," Reid was almost full-on shouting now: "No matter how much you end up getting hurt to protect the people around you, you don’t care! Did you really think I’d appreciate what you did for me if you ended up seriously getting hurt, or worse, dead?"

Your vision is getting blurry from the unshed tears now. You love Reid so much, but he wouldn’t get it. He would never see you as more than just a coworker. More than a friend.

"No, Spencer," you sniffled, looking directly at him now, "I know you wouldn’t have appreciated it if that happened. Call me selfish, but I care for you too much to ever let anything hurt you and regret what I did."

You stood up from where you were sitting and were about to head to the SUV where you could be alone before driving back to the precinct, but Spencer didn’t let you. He held your wrist, pulled you back, and groaned.

"God, you’re insufferable!" He exclaimed, "Don’t you get it? I care about you, Y/N!"

"I know, Reid," you smiled wistfully, "you care about me because I’m your friend."

"No, I don’t." 

This made you stop in your tracks and stare at him intently.

"I don’t care about you as a friend, Y/N. I never did."

"Oh."

Reid sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t expect you to love me back—"

"I love you." This made Reid stop fully. "I have loved you since the day you talked my ear off about Doctor Who. I have loved you since that time I woke up in the middle of the night back in Atlanta and ended up knocking on your door because I couldn't go back to sleep. You told me you'd always be here for me."

"I love you, Spencer Reid."

Before you could overthink your sudden confession, Spencer held your uninjured cheek with his slender hand—and the next thing you know, he is kissing you. 

You couldn't help but gasp. You were startled by the suddenness. His lips were warm and soft, almost pillowy against yours. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Spencer's lips brushed against yours tentatively. The smell of his hair—like the smell of early mornings after a night of rain—was dizzying. He smelled so clean and fresh, like soap, with a hint of the smell of a new book.

You felt lightheaded as he swiped his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave him. You could taste the hint of sweet coffee he drank just minutes before the takedown. You could feel the soft tickle of his breath and his fingers as he carded it through your hair while you breathed each other in.

You never imagined kissing Spencer could feel like this.

Regretfully, your bruised cheek was starting to take the brunt of all the snogging. You had to pull away because you were running out of breath, so you tapped his cheek. Spencer wasn't taking the hint at all, which made you giggle—cute. Having no other choice, you held both of his cheeks and pulled away.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, silly," you chortled; he's so cute. "I just ran out of breath, and my bruised cheeks hurt. It isn't your fault. Don't worry." You assured him.

Spencer sighed a breath of relief, which made you want to tease him.

"I know what can stop my bruises from hurting, though."

Eager to please you, the doctor was about to start searching for possible medical remedies to your injuries, not knowing you had something else in mind.

"You could plant a kiss on them." You grinned widely as you saw Spencer's neck start reddening, "I'm kidding, Spence," you said, "You don't have to—"

You didn't expect Spencer—of all people—to be the type of person who would shower you with kisses if you asked him, but he is. He started planting light kisses on the purple blotches on your face—not caring that anyone from the local police to your workmates from the bureau could see you. 

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N," Reid said, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he brushed his lips against yours once again.

You never thought the best day of your life would be the day you get injured. You never thought the best cure for cuts, scrapes, and bruises could be a kiss from the one you love the most—Spencer Reid.

[anniesannex]

You’re So Art Deco

Chapter one

Sugar daddy !Johnny Cage x reader

Description: you are a struggling college student who needs some cash. Your friend suggests a sugar daddy but you wouldn’t do that. Right?

A/n: this is literally my first time posting my writing like ever so I’m a little nervous to be doing this.

With a dramatic sigh, you enter the dorm you’ve been working so hard for you’ve barely had to relax in. Between school and work you’ve barely had time to sleep. Luckily you had a day off the next day.

“Bad day?” Grace asked as she brushed her long golden locks. “I don’t know why you don’t just quit that shithole (Y/n).” Of course she wouldn’t.

“Because I need the money Grace.” You sigh as you take your hair down. “Or else I can’t cover what my scholarship doesn’t.”

“You’re literally killing yourself though.”

“Grace.” You Sighed. “I love you but I don’t want to engage in this conversation right now.”

“If you need the money I’m sure my dad ca-”

“I’m not taking money from your dad, Grace. I appreciate that you worry about me but I can’t.” You pull out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Shedding the uniform for your shitty minimum wage job.

“Can you at least tell me what happened today.”

“The usual, rude people treating me like I’m fucking stupid, my manager being a sexist freak, and of course that guy who keeps trying to hit on me came in.”

“I fucking hate that guy.” Grace spat. “You sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight (y/n/n)? It’s not the same without you there.”

“I’m exhausted Gracie, as much as I’d love to I can’t.” You got your laptop to work on your school work.

“Why not get a sugar daddy?” Grace suggested. “It’s definitely help. Plus you can get to bang some hot dilfs.” She winked as you rolled your eyes.

“Girl I’m not getting a sugar daddy.” You sighed. “By the way where’s the Tito’s?”

“I just got a new bottle, it’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you so much.” You grabbed it out of the fridge and opened it. “You’re literally the best person ever. Y’know that?”

“You seem to tell me that a lot. Thank you (y/n).” She smiled. “But take it easy with the Tito’s tonight. I don’t wanna have to put you to bed again.”

“I will.” You paused to take the shot. “Have fun tonight. Tell them I said hi and that I miss them.”

“Will do.” Grace grabbed her bag as she left the dorm. As you continued to work to you thought more and more at the idea of having a sugar daddy. It would definitely take a load off you. After the debating the pros and cons you signed up for a dating app meant to find sugar daddies.

“I really hope I don’t get fucking scammed.” You sassed to yourself as you made your username. Once you had an account you looked through all the possible matches you had. None of them really piqued your interest as you looked through them until-.

“Ooo he’s kinda hot!” You exclaimed as you ready his username and bio.

Johnny, 49

@JohnC95

Sagittarius

6’1

Hobbies: martial arts, long walks on the beach, and looking in the mirror.

Looking for someone to spoil ;).

You had clicked to accept him as a possible match when the words ‘it’s a match!’ Appeared on screen. It was only a matter of seconds until the first message came in.

@JohnC95: ‘well hello there gorgeous. It seems like we’ve matched.’

@y/n:’ it seems like it haha.’

“What the fuck is going on right now?!” You thought out loud.

@johnC95: so what are you doing right now?

@y/n: working on course work and drinking.

@johnC95: she’s educated I see. Also are you old enough to be drinking?

@y/n: I’m old enough. So what are you doing?

@johnC95: sitting through dinner w/ execs. Discussing my next film. Although I’d rather be w/ you, doll ;).

Film? You wonder what he does.

@y/n: that’s sweet of you. What do you do?

@JohnC95: I’m THE Johnny Cage.

Johnny Cage? That’s definitely a scam. You were rolling you eyes as you typed.

@y/n: I don’t believe you. send pics.

@JohnC95: better yet why not FaceTime?

You blushed at his boldness but typed as you got up from your bed.

@y/n: what abt the ‘execs’?

@JohnC95: said I had to take a call. They can wait on me.

@y/n: just let me get into something that isn’t pajamas and I’ll be on the phone.

@JohnC95: will do doll!

You look in your closet for something that was cute. It had been a while since you were in something other than your work uniform or pajamas so you had forgotten what most of your closet looked like. You had been rummaging around until you found a black dress with a red jacket a pair of tights and leg warmers to go over heeled boots. After putting that on you spent a little time on your hair and put on a little makeup before typing.

@y/n: I’m ready ‘Johnny’.

Within a few seconds the laptop had begun ringing. You nervously hit answer, wondering who was going to be at the other end.

“Wow you’re gorgeous.” Johnny spoke as you sigh out of relief for not being scammed. “See I’m really a big ol’ pile of sexy goodness.”

“Thank you Johnny. Sorry about doubting you.” You apologized.

“It’s fine, so what are you drinking?” Johnny asked.

“Tito’s. Just titos.”

“Wow straight vodka, you are bold.” Johnny paused. “What’s your Venmo?”

“My Venmo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s (y/n)14. Why?” You had questioned.

“Just check it. In two seconds.” Johnny’s face had be taken over by a fuzzy screen as he seemed to be doing something on his phone. As you pulled out your phone to check your Venmo.

From JohnC95

$600.00

“For talking to me on the phone.”

“Johnny, I can’t accept this.” You started “I’ll se-”

“I want you to have it. I like you, (y/n).” Johnny looked sincere. “But I should go. I’ll talk to you very soon Doll.”

“Good night Johnny Cage.” You smiled. As the call ended and you got ready for bed again. You wondered how in the hell managed to find Johnny Cage on a sugar daddy dating app. Wasn’t he like married? You decided to look it up as you got back into bed.

“Christina Ford and Sonya Blade. Both divorced.” You spoke. A new dilemma came across your mind in how the fuck you were gonna tell Grace.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned at the thought. Before you heard a ping from your laptop.

@JohnC95: goodnight Doll, sweetest of dreams :).

You thought of a response back as you put the money into your account. It would help towards paying for college.

@y/n: night, Cage. Enjoy those Hollywood executives.

You flopped your head back down on the pillow as you heard the door to your dorm be opened.

“Holy shit. The night I had.” Grace sighed. “You were right t-”

“I FOUND A SUGAR DADDY AND ITS JOHNNY CAGE!”

[sparkle-fiend]

Inspired by this post by @kedreeva (I’m not sure I quite did the original prompt justice, but hopefully some of the emotion comes across.)

***

It’s been a while since Steve attended a high school party. It feels weird to go to one now, a year out from his own graduation, but Robin was insistent.

“Please Steve? Vickie invited me to come, but I don’t want to show up on my own – what if she’s busy and I end up standing in the corner by myself like some kind of loser?”

She knows that she doesn’t actually have to work so hard to convince him, but that’s part of the routine. Robin begs and pleads, and Steve agrees after making a big show of complaining about it (as if he wouldn’t walk through fire for her).

“Fine, fine! But you owe me one.”

“Yesssss, thank you!”

Now, as he surveys the crowded interior of Robbie Ferguson’s house, he thinks she owes him more than one. This isn’t just a high school party – it’s a band party. He doesn’t see a single familiar face in the crowd of high school students and recent graduates, although odds are most of the people here will recognize him. And the memories probably aren’t fond ones.

“Robin!” he hisses through his teeth. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “They’re band geeks Steve, they don’t bite.”

He gives her one of his most annoyed looks, and she backpedals.

“I know, I know,” she says sheepishly, “but look! Eddie is here!” She points toward the corner of the room. Sure enough, Eddie is standing near the punch bowl with Gareth, Jeff, and Dave. He’s abandoned his usual layers in the summer heat, wearing just a red flannel shirt over a black tank top. 

Steve is surprised to see him. Even though Eddie was cleared of all charges, there have still been some rough moments; a few holdouts causing trouble (mostly friends of Jason Carver). It’s made him understandably hesitant to go out much.

So to see him here, enjoying a party with his friends – it’s good. Really good.

“I take it that dopey grin means I’m forgiven?” Robin asks slyly. She knows all about his crush, teasing him whenever she gets the chance.

“Nice try,” he grumbles. “You’re covering all my shifts with Keith for the next two weeks.”

Before she can protest this outrageous demand, Vickie finds them.

 “Robin, you made it!”

It’s Robin’s turn to be distracted, melting like chocolate under a summer sun as Vickie links an arm through hers – which is Steve’s cue to step aside.

“I’ll be over there with Eddie.”

Robin nods without looking, still gazing lovingly at Vickie. Steve snorts and heads for the punch bowl. 

He grabs a solo cup and ladles in some of the vibrant red punch, wincing when he takes a sip – that shit is strong. Someone laced it a little too generously with vodka.

“Steve!” Eddie chirps when he joins the group, raising a cup in salute. “Look who it is gentlemen – our illustrious majesty, the former King of Hawkins High himself!”

Steve tries to hide his wince. He hates being called that, even if Eddie’s bright grin does take some of the sting out of the teasing. He taps the rim of his cup against the one in Eddie’s hand and says, “How many of those have you had already?”

“Too many and not enough milord,” Eddie says, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. Steve leans into the touch, just a little, and nods in greeting to the rest of the Hellfire club members. Jeff and Dave smile back politely, but Gareth just scowls - nose wrinkling like he’s smelling something foul. Even after all the time Steve’s spent hanging around lately, Gareth still hasn’t warmed up to him.

As usual, Eddie ignores the tension between them, launching into a discussion about how the newly released Aliens movie compares to the original. Since they recently watched both movies together, this is a conversation Steve can actually participate in.

It’s devolved into a heated debate on the merits of sequels in general by the time Robin and Vickie join them.

“Are we interrupting?” Robin asks drily. 

“Not at all,” Eddie replies smoothly. “I know you’ve got some strong opinions on the art of cinema Buckley, what do you think of…”

“Annnnd that’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts. If the two of them start arguing about movies, they’ll be at it for the rest of the night (as Steve knows from unfortunate experience). “Who’s your friend?”

A vaguely familiar blond followed the girls over, watching the boys with wide eyes.

“Oh, this is Claire! She’s a flute player – she’ll be taking over as first chair next year.”

That means absolutely nothing to Steve, although he nods like it makes total sense (ignoring Robin’s knowing snort of laughter). 

Claire seems happy to meet Steve, but she clams up when the rest of the gang is introduced – which leads to everyone standing around in a moment of awkward silence.

Surprisingly, Dave is the one to come to the rescue. “We should play a game. Truth or Dare maybe?”

The girls glance at each other and nod, and Steve shrugs. It’s certainly not the worst party game they could choose.

With a stop to refresh everyone’s punch, they migrate to the screened porch at the back of the house and settle into a circle on the floor.

It ends up being a lot of fun. The last time Steve played was with Tommy and Carol, and they were brutal about it – daring people to streak through the house or take hot sauce shooters until they puked. This game is much more lighthearted.

Although that’s not to say Steve doesn’t still have a bit of mean streak. 

“Eddie, I dare you to sing Careless Whisper by Wham.”

“Ugh, critical hit!” Eddie yelps and falls to the floor, writhing like he’s been fatally wounded. Steve laughs and nudges his hip with one foot.

“Come on, you have to sing – or else you forfeit.”

“Have you no mercy? I thought we were friends.”

Steve just grins and starts humming the melody. Robin, Vickie, and Claire all join in until Eddie concedes; standing up to belt out the hated song with gusto. He makes it to the first rendition of the chorus before he collapses into helpless giggles.

“I don’t know, does it count if he didn’t sing the whole song?”

“It counts, it counts!” Eddie gasps.

The game continues in that vein - until Claire chooses ‘truth’. “Hmmm,” Vickie says thoughtfully. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?”

It’s the sort of question that could easily be answered with a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ – no need for any revealing details. But Claire stares straight at Steve, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously as she says, “I think every girl at Hawkins had a crush on King Steve. I heard girls talk all the time about what an amazing kisser he is.”

Robin rolls her eyes and turns her head, pretending to gag. A year ago, Steve would have jumped at the chance to flirt right back. Now, it just makes him uncomfortable. Claire is like most of the girls he’s been with before - curious about his reputation, attracted by his looks or his popularity or his parents’ money. Completely uninterested in him as a person.

He wants to glance at Eddie, get a read on what the other boy might be thinking; but he’s afraid of what he’ll see. Or maybe afraid of what he won’t see – that Eddie will be totally unaffected by the fact that some girl is blatantly flirting with Steve right in front of him. 

He doesn’t have long to worry about it, because Gareth is up next. He clears his throat loudly and points at Steve. “Truth or Dare Harrington.”

There’s no right answer here – Gareth is clearly eager to fuck with him, whatever he picks. 

“Dare.”

The look of unholy glee in Gareth’s eyes should have been Steve’s warning.

“Well now that we’ve heard all about King Steve’s magic mouth, I think we need a demonstration. I dare you to kiss…” he draws it out, moving his finger around the circle like he’s taking his time deciding.

Claire looks eager, Vickie looks slightly uncomfortable, and Robin looks like she’s staring down the gullet of a slobbering demogorgon.

Don’t pick Vickie or Robin, he thinks fiercely. Don’t you do it. If Gareth picks either Vickie or Robin, his ass is toast. He doesn’t particularly want Claire all over him, but it would be the better option by far. 

He never even considered the possibility that Gareth would choose… “Eddie!”

Steve must have had more to drink than he thought, because his head is suddenly spinning. He hasn’t felt his stomach drop like this since he was locked in a Russian elevator, plummeting to an uncertain fate.

The group erupts with shouts and laughter. Eddie jumps to his feet, waving his arms around grandly. “I see I’m collateral damage here! Guess I’ll have to take one for the team!” He bows and laughs, the same way he did when dared to sing Careless Whisper.

He’s so… casual about it. Totally unphased. 

This is all a joke to Eddie. It doesn’t mean anything – not like it does for Steve. Everyone in the group just laughs and laughs, as if they wouldn’t look at him in disgust if they knew he wanted to kiss Eddie for real.

He meets Robin’s eyes briefly across the circle - the only one here that knows what’s going on in his head. She looks like she’s in pain.

Steve swallows hard and reaches for the cool, casual mask he used to wear so well. This is a game – just a party game. Exactly like the time he kissed Tommy on a dare at Jimmy Allen’s birthday party. He can do this.

He smirks and stands up, keeping his shoulders loose, subtly wiping his clammy palms against the rough denim of his jeans. He and Eddie face each other in the center of the circle. 

The older boy has a faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a tiny shaving nick by the corner of his mouth, near the scar that traces his jaw. His lips are so full, the prettiest mouth Steve’s ever seen. He doesn’t dare even look into those dark eyes.

Just a quick kiss and done, easy – no big deal. Steve licks his lips reflexively, wishing he’d put on some Chapstick or something, before he starts to lean forward. But then Eddie pretends to swoon, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like some southern belle in a movie.

Would he be this dramatic if they were kissing for real? Steve’s imagined it so often, a different way each time – sometimes soft and tender, sometimes silly and fun; just like Eddie.

He certainly never imagined the laughter in the background, or Dave shouting, “Come on man, do it already!”

Steve freezes. At the urging of his friends, Eddie takes the initiative and steps closer – until he’s stopped by a hand pressed flat against his chest. 

“Stop. Please stop.” Is that Steve’s voice? He didn’t mean to say anything - but with that crack in composure the whole mask starts to fall apart, like a dam splitting open.

“I can’t do this. Not… not like this.”

Eddie frowns in confusion. 

Of course he’s confused – it’s just a game. Everyone was having fun until Steve had to go and ruin it. He choked on the dare, and now he’s even tearing up - like an idiot, right in front of everyone.

There’s no salvaging this. He ducks away with a mumbled excuse about needing some air, practically running from the house. Hopefully everyone is tipsy enough that they’ll all just forget about it in the morning. 

He doesn’t make it very far before he hears Robin behind him. 

“Steve! Hey… wait up!”

He stops at the edge of the yard, where the house lights fall away into shadow, and waits for her to catch up.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Even he can hear the choked waver in his voice. 

“Steve…”

“It’s okay Rob, really.” It’s far from okay, and they both know it. “I think the punch just went to my head.”

They stare at each other, sharing one of those silent moments of communication that Dustin always points to as proof that they share a telepathic bond.

“You should go home then,” she says softly. “I’ll catch a ride with Vickie.” 

He’s sure she’ll want to talk about it later, but for now… she’s giving him an out. “Thanks Rob.”

He watches until she’s back inside, just breathing in the smells of fresh-cut grass and a nearby cigarette – deep breaths in and out. Then he finds his car (thankfully not blocked in) and hightails it home.

****

(Continued in Part 2)

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

[citadelsanchez]

Greetings, our dearest and best writer in the entire history of ever, could I interest you in a little scenario where Rick takes y/n and Morty on a little adventure and leaves y/n alone for a moment to meet up with a "contact" only to come back to y/n being surrounded by people and HEAVILY flirted with? I'd just love to imagine the look on Rick's face when y/n spots him with this helpless puppy look as they try to fend off suitors,,,

Hi. Been a minute since I've posted. Holidays and all that, plus I'm in the process of moving states so I apologize! I promise that I will still be slowly working on these. <3 anyways,, hope you enjoy.

((Gender neutral reader))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Um.. I dunno, Jerry," you muttered uncomfortably. You were currently sat between Morty and Jerry on the Smiths' couch, and got caught in the middle of the two boys having a debate over Interdimensional Cable. Jerry insisted that he was best friends with Keanu Reeves and Dwayne Johnson in his alternate reality. Morty claimed that even in a different reality he'd never be cool enough for that to be true.

"Well it's nice to be reminded just how much of a loser my own son thinks I am. Y/N, what's your opinion on this?" Jerry asked.

You awkwardly shrugged as you checked your phone and hoped they would just stop talking altogether.

"Hey dipshits, is there some valid reason that you didn't come to the garAAGe when I called your names?"

You turned your head to see none other than Rick entering the living room to stand over you and Morty with his arms crossed.

"W-we never heard you call us," Morty spoke.

Rick scoffed. "Well you just heard me. Get to moving" he said, keeping stern eye contact with you before stalking back towards the garage.

You and Morty glance at each other before hesitantly getting up to obey his command, you're both used to his formidable attitude and being too overcome with curiosity to argue.

When you make it to the garage, Rick is already in his ship ready to depart.

"Get in, come the fuck on" he calls out harshly.

Morty stumbles in and you take your place in the back, wedging your legs between the middle of the floor between their seats.

"So what are we doing, specifically?" You ask, watching as Rick expressionlessly drives the ship. Adventures didn't phase you at all anymore; it had been about a full year now since you've started going on them with your esteemed older mentor and his grandson. The scenery never really made a difference anymore but the objective behind the adventures did.

"Just- it's just a compound I need for a project, that's all."

"That wasn't what I'd call specific" you frown, staring at his side profile.

"It's perfectly specific in being all the information that I care to give out," Rick retorts, throwing you an annoyed look.

"Geeez Rick," Morty adds.

You roll your eyes and decide not to further press the issue. You're no stranger to Rick's many moods and abusive jabs, but usually you were able to pinpoint reasons for them, even if small. Sometimes, though, it seemed deeper than what you could read into and you knew to just leave it be. It wasn't like he would relay his true emotions to anyone.

The ship whirred to a halt as you looked outside of the windows to see a lively city filled with people entering and exiting eccentric shops. Most of the inhabitants seemed to have a masculine appearance, some taking on hybrid human and alien features. Some were strange creatures altogether, and some looked to be completely human.

The three of you climb out of the ship as Rick starts talking. "Alright, so I've got to tend to my business. You two stay here and don't die."

He looks between you and Morty, a sense of guilt almost marking his face before the typical scowl replaces it. "I-If you can't manage that, use this to let me know." Rick shoves a device with a giant blue button in your hands now.

"Good luuUUCk" He burps before walking off into the crowd of humanoids and disappearing from sight.

"Wow, he's really on it today, huh Y/N?" Morty says, puzzled.

"Something's off, I can tell. I need to find out what it is," You respond. "Rick has obviously left us in the dark before but this just doesn't feel right."

Just as you're about to take stride to follow Rick, several warlock resemblant men surround you, blocking your path. Their curious inquiries spill out all at once.

"Look at this specimen, Norpel. Definitely not from around here."

"What's your name, gorgeous?"

"I was told not to touch the aliens that visit but I almost can't resist."

You take a step back and sigh in frustration. Damn you, Rick.

"And you're dead set on using this formula and enduring it's possible side effects, Rick?"

Rick frowned, irked by the fact that his colleague wouldn't just provide him with what he asked for without a 20 questions game.

"Yes, Shabablurb, I'm completely positive."

The mysterious man turned to face the older scientist. "I just have to make sure. I'll go get it then."

Rick tapped his foot as he waited and his mind wanders back to you once again. Your gentle eyes of compassion, your sometimes rare but always bright smile, your soft hair. The inside jokes you two came to have, the gentle touches you give him when he's not being an asshole, the way his entire family cherishes your presence. How he feels about you- he knows the feeling and knows it well. Which is why he needs to get rid of it.

Shabablurb re-enters the room with a vial. "Okay, one and done. I'm not here to judge any of your decisions but just remember Rick, that once you take this, you won't be able to remember an-"

"I got it. Thanks. I'm out."

Rick snatched the compound from the man's hand and began making his way back to Morty and Y/N.

He was starting to wonder if you two had went to a bar or club somewhere when he heard your voice, wavering and meek. Unusually out of character for you.

"Hey stop, don't, back up- don't touch me please."

Rick narrowed his eyes at the crowd he was walking through, pushing past everyone to reach the sound of your voice.

Many feet away, Morty was nowhere in sight but he caught a glimpse of your face, flush with panic and anxiety, as the strange men continued to prod you and several attempting to grab a part of you- your clothes or body.

Your eyes meet Rick's and he can clearly see the plea for help in them as one creature grabs hold of your shirt and begins yanking it.

Rick feels his anger start to surge. He removes his laser gun from his coat and fires it at the crowd, freezing some suitors in place and burning holes in others. Once you're no longer engulfed in bodies, he finds the job satisfactory.

"R-Rick, thank you," you murmur while he walks over, embarrassed by the scene that just played out. You gently brush your fingers over his hand after he puts his gun away and he stares at you with an unreadable expression.

"Rick?"

"Uh yeah, sorry. Glad I could save the day. They w-would've had a feast with you."

Your cheeks flush although you're not sure in what context Rick was even referring to.

In honesty, neither was he. All that was consuming his mind were second guesses. Guilt and pain that clutched his chest with a deathly grip. And a single question ringing in his head.

How could he make himself forget about you?

[wooahaes]

out for delivery

pairing: none? non-idol!svt with a mention of gn!reader

prompt: that one post i made about reader asking for them to send their cutest delivery guy

genre: comedy. this is just silly stuff teehee

word count: 1.4k~

warnings: food mentions. svt arguing about who is the cutest. i didnt proofread this at all btw its just supposed to be silly goofy fun.

daisy’s notes: this has been in my drafts for over two months.

Junhui was the one who read off your order to the others, only to stop when he saw the special instruction in the delivery spot: send ur cutest guy, pls. 

Of course, being someone with access to the internet, Jun had heard of this kind of thing before. People who throw in instructions like that for fun, or people who ask for things to be drawn on their to-go boxes (he always did those when they popped up--his art skills might not be perfect, but he can draw a little cat saying ‘enjoy your food!’ any day), or sometimes the occasional message from someone to another (the ‘person loves you’ or ‘person says to get well soon’ kind of deal). But this? Here? Well...

“Which one of us is the cutest?” He mused aloud, catching Jeonghan’s attention as he stepped away from the kitchen to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“What?”

Jun nodded toward the screen and your specific instruction. “They asked for a cute delivery guy. Who’s working today?”

Jeonghan paused, musing on the question. “Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Vernon,” he listed off, although he continued to wrack his brain to see if that Namjoon guy was in as well. Nah--Maybe on the weekend when they’re busier and need the extra hands, but three already is kind of overkill as it is.

(Not that any of them are complaining, that is: they’re still getting some sort of payment for all of this.)

“It doesn’t say cutest delivery guy,” Jeonghan said. “Just our cutest guy.”

Seungcheol looked up from his clipboard as he came back, brow raised. “Me?”

Jeonghan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, I’m the cutest one here. I’ll make it.”

It was at this point that they’d started gathering the attention of everyone currently in (which, today, had been everyone except for Soonyoung, who was still out on a delivery across the city).

Seungcheol stared at him, “You don’t work delivery--”

“So?” Jeonghan said. “I don’t mind going--”

“You don’t, either,” Jun piped up. “I could run if I need to--”

Seungkwan was finally the one to speak up, “What are you talking about?”

For a moment, the three said nothing. If everyone got into this conversation, it’d be an all-out bloodbath, especially with Seungkwan taking part. Yet Wonwoo, who had been sitting nearby, enjoying his few minutes of rest after his own series of deliveries, looked up.

“Someone asked for a cute delivery guy, and they’re debating about it,” he shrugged, looking back at his phone--although the tiny smile on his face was still evident. The rotten fucker--

“I can go,” Joshua spoke up, as if he wasn’t literally working on your order alongside Mingyu. “Just gimme a sec, I’ll change shirts.”

Seokmin, who had been busy rolling out pizza dough, looked up. “Is this really a debate? I think we all know I’m the cutest one here...”

“Both of you work in the kitchens,” Seungcheol said, “you can’t leave.”

“All of us are in today, and it’s slow right now,” Chan said, already washing his hands of flour, ready to remove his apron in a moment. “You guys won’t miss me.”

“Who said you were going?!” Seungkwan whipped around, “If anyone goes, it should be me! Everyone who comes in tells points out how cute I am!”

Mingyu looked up, a cocky smile tugging at his lips. “Who gets asked out the most here?”

Silence. The motherfucker...

And then Minghao looked up. “They said cutest. Not hottest. Which eliminates all of you--”

“I’m very cute!” Seungkwan huffed, “That’s why it should be me.”

Vernon looked up from his phone, yet another delivery boy who probably should just take the order when it’s ready. “I dunno. I think I’m pretty cute. I could do it. Plus,” he shrugged, “kind of my job--”

“You’re hot and you know it,” Jeonghan spoke up. “Hao has a point. They requested the cutest guy--which means it’s down to Seungkwan, Chan, and I.”

Minghao scoffed, rolling up his sleeves. “Just you three?”

Mingyu had thrown an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders, dragging him from his quiet spot of observation straight into the conversation. “Jihoon should be included, too.”

“Oh? What if this person flirts with him?” Jeonghan chuckled. “They’re paying in cash and Jihoon would probably walk off without it.”

Jihoon’s face turned red. “I’m not that bad--”

“You almost did it last time you had to work the window.”

“They were too upfront!” Jihoon huffed, his face slowly turning red. “If they had said to you what they said to me, you’d run, too! That’s why Jun had to take over!”

“They said you had pretty eyes!”

Jihoon’s face burned with embarrassment. “It was the way they said it...”

As if in his own world, Jun quietly mused aloud, “I think I’m pretty cute,” as he continued looking over the order again.

“And if Jun’s cute, then I’m cute.” Joshua wiped his hands down his apron, turning back. “Jun, does the order say anything else?”

He shook his head. The only note you had put in was the note they were debating about now: send ur cutest guy, pls. Nothing more, nothing less. Hell, none of them even knew why you’d asked for their cutest guy. Was it a joke? Were you kind of desperate for something? Was this going to be the really bad intro to a porno? The questions persisted.

Seungcheol had been the one who pulled your pizza from the oven when it was time, boxing it up and carefully sealing it. “Who’s delivering it?”

Immediately, several people had volunteered.

He rolled his eyes. “Wonwoo, Vernon--”

“I’ll do it,” Seungkwan insisted further. “They asked for someone cute!”

Vernon raised his brows. “Dude, what the hell--”

“You know you’re hot, shut up.” Seungkwan turned. “If they want someone cute, then it’s only between a few of us. Not including Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan gasped, turning around as he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m angelic--”

“That’s a lie and you know it!”

The bell chimed as Soonyoung made his way in, going completely ungreeted as the conversation continued. He looked to Wonwoo, who merely shrugged in exchange before watching as Minghao began to make the very well formulated argument that he was the cutest (his fairy-like giggle was direct proof, in his own words--the others called him cute all the time for it). Which caused Seungcheol to argue back that if he was including laughs as evidence, then his own could count because plenty of people found it endearing. Soonyoung said nothing, walking over to where the orders were as he began looking through them for another delivery since his break would come later tonight.

“I’m not saying your laugh isn’t cute,” Seungcheol said, “I’m saying you can’t use it as proof when all of us have cute laughs!”

“Some of you sound like a hyena,” Minghao rolled his eyes, “and some of you are too ‘hot’ to be cute! You talk about how handsome you are all the time--”

“Stop, you’ll make him pout,” Jeonghan chuckled from nearby, “and then he’ll really start insisting he’s the cutest of us.”

The bell chimed again, and Jun merely glanced up to see that it was only Soonyoung leaving. He turned back. “People tell me I’m cute. I’m carefree.”

“Childish cute doesn’t count,” Seungkwan said, lips pursed. “I’m cute because of my mannerisms.”

“The same mannerisms you get mad at Soonyoung for imitating,” Seokmin muttered under his breath, only to earn a deadly glare from Seungkwan. “You do!”

Wonwoo looked back down at his phone, wondering if he should have been recording this entire conversation. “I think I’m cute.”

“One of us has to go,” Joshua spoke up, “before their food gets cold. And I think I should do it because I’ll be the fastest--”

“Dude,” Vernon looked up. “I’m pretty fast on my bike.”

“It’s a bike, we’d all be fast  on it,” Minghao scoffed. “Why aren’t one of them doing it?” Minghao gestured toward Wonwoo and Vernon. “They’re the delivery boys!”

“Still on break,” Wonwoo said without looking up, “for another few minutes.” 

Seungcheol opened his mouth to say something--probably about how one of their breaks had already ended by now.

“Also, Soonyoung just left with it,” Wonwoo added casually enough.

Immediately, several pairs of eyes went to where the order had been left... and sure enough, it was gone.

And then chaos ensued, and Wonwoo hid yet another smile as he listened to several people bemoan that little factoid. Yet Soonyoung was pedaling away, completely lost as to what had gone down while he was gone.

(And when he showed up, bragging about the huge tip that you had given him while laughing about the fact the others had been arguing... Well. They knew what was going to happen the next time you threw in that special request.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao​ @synthetickitsune​ @gyulbabie​ @wonuziex​

[taylortots-world]

On The Clock (PT 2)

warnings: smut (18+), MDNI, handjobs, oral (m receiving), sexy times in baby, sam x f!reader

A/N: After a long wait, PT 2 is FINALLY OUT! I’m super excited for yall to read this. I apologize for not having posted anything new for a while. I have so many ideas and zero motivation. Anyways, enjoy! Feel free to check out part one.

It was a rather gloomy day is Sioux Falls. Y/N and Sam had just finished up a brief visit with Donna. The pair was getting some more info on a series of cough ‘animal attacks’. Throats ripped out and all. At first, it seemed like a simple vampire issue. But after some further research, Sam had come to the conclusion it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was ever that simple for hunters, especially the Winchesters.

Sam rested his fist against his temple, using his free hand to hold open a lore book. His foot occasionally tapping against the Impala’s floor. He was frustrated. He took up this case thinking it’d be a quickie. A filler case if you will. Y/N sat opposite of him in the passenger seat. A lore book laid open in her lap. She kept occasionally glancing over at Sam, practically feeling the frustration seeping out of him. A frustrated Sam Winchester was a rather rare sight. Y/N fought with herself internally as her eyes lingered on him. She debated on speaking up, to break the painful silence.

“Why don’t we take a break? We’ve been at this long enough.” Sam flipped the book in his lap shut, exhaling with a loud sigh. “Yeah, please. I just can’t seem to piece this together and it’s driving me crazy.” He ran a hand through his silken hair, glancing over to meet Y/N’s stare. This case had really taken a toll on all of them, but especially Sam. The gears witching Y/N’s pretty head began to turn. A sinister smirk ghosting her lips. She had an idea. A terrible one. Well, not terrible . It could just potentially blow up in her face and Sam would never speak to her again- but it was worth a try. Y/N slowly slid across the front bench seat of Baby. Sam gave her a strange look, his eyes searching her face. His stomach tightened as she licked her lips before speaking. The same lips that had once been on his very own. The lips he’d imagine wrapped around his cock at night.

“Look,” She started, speaking softly “I know this case has us all stumped, you especially. You’ve been sleeping less and barely eating- trying to get the ball rolling.” His expression softened. He never realized people could see right through him like that. He never realized she could. Her face slightly heated as they continued to stare at each other, saying nothing. “Let me help you relax.” She whispered, leaning forward to kiss his jawline. His stubble tickling her plush lips. His eyes fluttered shut as she began to kiss her way down his neck, gently pulling the collar of his flannel aside. Y/N smirked against his flesh, feeling a familiar warmth grow in her lower half.

The car felt as if it had become a hundred degrees warmer. Sam placed a bent finger under her chin, gently tipping her head up. He met her half way and captured her lips with his own. The first few kisses were sweet, until they weren’t. He had slightly turned, gaining better access to her lips. His hands rested on either side of her head. Without breaking the kiss, Y/N slid a hand down his torso- stopping at the buckle of his belt. Her eyes flicked open, waiting for him to give her the green light. Not saying anything, he dipped his head down to kiss her neck. A soft moan rolled off her lips as he gently kissed and sucked on the flesh of her neck. Her hands fumbled with his belt , his cock already straining against his jeans. His hand slid up her side, pausing to massage her breast. His fingers toying with her pebbled nipple over her shirt. A breath slightly hitched in her throat. Getting intimate with Sam Winchester had two possible turnouts. One, he’d make love to you all night long. Orgasm after orgasm. Or two, he could fuck you until the only thing that could leave your mouth was his name.

Y/N gently gripped his wrist, pulling away from the kiss. “As much as I enjoyed that- this is about you. I want you to relax, okay? So just sit back and let me do all the work. Please.” His cock fucking twitched. She didn’t even have to touch him and he could be a mess. He could come from just her words alone. “Alright.” He gave her a small smile before leaning back in to kiss her. Y/N busied her hands, quickly sliding his cock past the waistband of his boxers. He lifted his butt off of the leather seat, sliding his bottoms down. Dean would kill them both if there was an ass print or a mess left behind in his baby. Her mouth and pussy watered at the sight of his cock. It was rather large, with some definite girth to it. His tip was red and angry, already leaking pre come. Y/N adjusted herself. She was now lying on her stomach across the front seat, with her head perfectly positioned over Sam’s lap. Her hand came up to rest at the base of his shaft as she slowly slid his cock into her mouth. Sam cursed under his breath, gently holding her hair back. She slightly bobbed her head, using her hand to pump whatever didn’t fit in her mouth. His cock was rock hard in her mouth. Her tongue occasionally swiping over his tip, causing him to shiver. If she kept this up- he wasn’t going to last long. She pulled her mouth off of his cock with an audible ‘pop’. Her hand still pumping his cock at a moderate pace. “Perfect fucking dick..” She mumbled, tilting her head back to gaze up at him. He was practically melting into the leather seats. His hair fallen slightly in his face, his brows furrowed with pleasure. “Please,” He practically begged “ Your mouth feels fucking amazing. Don’t stop.” A smirk played on her lips momentarily before she lowered her lips to his cock once more. This time, she fully took him in her mouth. His tip occasionally tickling the back of her throat. Sam let his head fall back, a moan slipping past his lips wantonly. “Fuck yeah..” He mumbled under his breath, only fuelling her desire even more. Her head began to move faster. “I’m gonna come.” He announced, snapping his head back forward to watch her take his cock. His breathing grew heavy, which then turned into moans. He moaned loudly as he spurted his come down the back of her throat. She swallowed it, looking up at him with a smile on her face.

The pair had sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Sam tried to recover from his orgasm. “That was incredible, but-“ “Don’t tell Dean we fooled around in Baby.” Y/N interjected. “I know. After all, this isn’t our first rodeo.” She winked, causing him to shake his head. A shit eating grin was plastered across his face as they drove back to the bunker.

[bitchin-beskar]

the taste of scotch and cigars - chapter one

Rating: M

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating trope, propositioning a stranger in a bar, drinking/mentions of being tipsy (minor), intense makeout in public, hints of exhibition kink, hints of voice kink, absolutely fucking douchebag of an ex, mentions of cheating, I think that's it for this chapter? Most of these will be expanded the further into the story we get, and more warnings will come hehe.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: this is one of the au ideas I've ranted to @catsnkooks about (there are many) and I wanted to schedule the first chapter drop during my vacay because it's been sitting in my wip folder and I wanna get opinions to see if people like this idea/wanna see more. (I mean, I'm gonna post it regardless but I still wanna see if people are into the idea). anyways, enjoy this fun spin on a fake dating trope :)

The burn of cheap vodka as it slid down your throat did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Coming here was a mistake. You should’ve let sleeping dogs lie, let your past stay where it belongs. Instead, you’re submerged in old memories and familiar hurts, the waters of time washing over your head and threatening to drown you in melancholy and diffidence.

The noise of the packed pub pressed in from all sides, buffeting you and keeping you off balance, loud enough that you were barely able to hear yourself think. You’d managed to avoid interactions thus far, but the likelyhood of that dwindled with every second you lingered, waiting for…

Well.

God only knows what you were waiting for.

Draining the last dregs of your drink, the thunk of your empty glass on the wooden bar as you sat it down made you frown and debate waving over the bartender for another refill. You thought for a long moment, before you decided otherwise. If you were going to be interacting with others tonight, you’d prefer to have at least some of your wits about you, and the vodka you’d consumed was enough to take the edge of your sorrow off. Any more though, and you couldn’t be held responsible for what might happen.

You turned around in your seat, scanning the crowd. In the back corner of the pub, you saw them for the first time that night since you’d walked in. The group seemed to be concentrated in the back, thankfully. You’d done a perfunctory greeting with the hosts of this little reunion, and then beelined for the bar and had been sat there since. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure why you even came.

Unfortunately, right as you were looking over at the group, you made eye contact with Christian, the one person you’d been hoping to avoid. He’d been looking in your direction, and when he saw you, he smirked and stood up, beginning to try and make his way through the crowd.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you spun around again on your stool, regretting not having ordered another drink. “God fucking dammit.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you began to wonder if it was possible for you to make a quick escape in the crowd, when your panic was interrupted by a deep and deceptively smooth British-accented voice to your right.

“Everythin’ alright, love?”

Turning your head, you made eye contact with the older man sitting next to you at the bar, and immediately your mouth went dry. How had you not noticed him yet?

He was absolutely gorgeous, with clear, intelligent blue eyes and thick dark brown hair that you wanted to run your fingers through. His cheeks and upper lip were covered in that same dark brown hair, shaved into mutton chops with stubble on his lower lip and chin. He was dressed in a light blue henley that clung to his torso, a hint of a ball chain disappering into the vee of the neckline, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. One hand was wrapped around a glass of scotch, and dangling from the fingers of his other hand was a lit Maduro cigar. He had on dark, well worn blue jeans that were moulded to his thighs, and black, slightly scuffed up combat boots.

He looked like the kind of man you’d spent many a shameful night fantasizing about back in high school, fingers ducking below the waistband of your sleep shorts as you clasped a hand over your mouth lest you wake your parents sleeping down the hall.

Those bright blue eyes were focused on yours, and you felt your cheeks heat under his surprisingly intense yet soft gaze. Something deep inside of you, fueled by the vodka, whispered that this was the kind of man you could trust, the kind of man who maybe, possibly would be willing to help a perfect stranger out of nothing but the kindness of his heart.

Maybe it was the alcohol, and you were drunker than you thought. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you, this gorgeous, dangerous man who managed to pierce you with such soft, kind eyes. Whatever it was, you lost control over your brain-to-mouth filter, and words began to spill forth.

“My ex is here, he just saw me and is coming this way, and it’s been years since I last saw him, and… god, I don’t have the strength to deal with him tonight, he never fucking takes no for an answer, would you be willing– I mean if it’s not too much trouble, and I could pay you back, but could I ask you–”

You managed to reboot your brain, but not quite fast enough to stop the spew of words from escaping you, and physically biting your own tongue was the only way to prevent you from making an even bigger fool of yourself. Immediately you averted your eyes, tearing yourself away from his piercing gaze as you shrunk in your seat, dread and shame roiling in the pit of your stomach and mixing with the alcohol to make you feel sick.

Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck were you thinking? He just asked if you were alright, he didn’t ask to have your entire life story dumped on him at the drop of a hat. He had to be at least ten years older than you, if not more, you were likely barely more than a silly little girl in his eyes. Shit, he’s probably got a stunning wife and gorgeous kids at home, and here you are, practically propositioning the poor man. Your mama always said you were a no-good, simple-minded child, and here you are, not even ten years outta her house and proving her right once again.

So lost in your self ruminations, you don’t notice the pensive look on the handsome stranger’s face, until suddenly there’s an arm wrapped securely around your waist and you’re being tugged off your barstool and onto a thickly muscled thigh, leaning against against the warm length of a heavily muscled torso. You somehow manage to not leap out of your skin in surprise, even when you feel the brush of his lips against the outer shell of your ear, his voice a low growl, gravel grinding against pavement.

“I’m more’n willing to help a pretty lil’ girl like you, love. No debt necessary. ‘Sides, a man who doesn’ understand the word no? Princess, that ain’t a man at all.”

Dreaming. You’ve gotta be stuck in some kind of alcohol intoxication induced fever dream, because there’s no fucking way that this is your life right now. Shit like this doesn’t happen outside of cheesy romcoms and trashy dime store novels. Let alone at random pubs in fucking Liverpool.

You’re not given the time to delve more into the ramifications of dreams induced by too much imbibed alcohol because your ears are abruptly assaulted by a reedy, nasally voice that you wished you could forget, but was burned into so many of your adolescent memories.

“Sweetcheeks! Goodness, it’s been awhile! You know, I wasn’t sure I’d see you here, we were all pretty surprised you showed up.”

The stanger-who’s lap you were perched-on turned at the interruption, his hand sliding from your hip across your belly, palm hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. He hooked his finger in your belt loop, fingers pressing reassuringly into the meat of your hip as his forearm felt like a bar of iron against your abdomen. The positioning was oddly possessive, like it meant more than him making sure you didn’t tip off his thigh and onto the dingy floor of the pub. His glass of scotch was abandoned on the bar, the arm not holding you streched out on the wood, cigar dangling from his fingers. You turned your head to look at the last person in the world you wanted to see, although you were distracted slightly from your ire by the slow drag of lips along the length of your jaw, the bristles on your stranger’s beard tickling the sensitive skin. It was an act that was surprisingly soothing as it was intimate.

Schooling your features, you looked at the face of the man who’d held your entire heart in his hands and shattered it on the ground without a second thought. Half a decade hadn’t dulled the pain, although you did a remarkable job at covering it up.

“Christian. Wish I could say it’s a pleasure.”

He pouted, an altogether unattractive look, although years ago it had been one to tug at your heartstrings. “Awe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, at least a little bit?”

You fixed him with a glare, even as fury began to burn low in your belly. “Why exactly would I be missing you, Christian?”

He rolled his eyes, as though the answer was exceedingly obvious, and he thought you dumb for even having to ask. “Awe, babes, you’re not still hung up about that little incident, are you? Even your momma thinks you’re overreacting, sweetcheeks.”

You cocked an eyebrow, even as you subconsciously sank further into your stranger’s embrace, his hold on you soothing and helping to keep you grounded. The admission that he still talked to your momma stung more than it should have, but then, she’d been heartbroken when you divorced who, in her eyes, was the most perfect embodiement of a son-in-law to ever grace God’s green earth. Figures she’d refuse to cut contact with him, even though you had.

“Hung up? Little incident? I came home to find you fucking Paisleigh, my best friend, in our fucking bed. And then I find out it wasn’t just the once, but practically every single week of our relationship, with about three dozen different girls over the years. I would say I have every right to still be pissed at you, Christian.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault, is it? Men have needs, babes. I was just doing what I needed to, since you certainly weren’t fullfilling ‘em. You hardly needed to move halfway across the world cause you got a lil’ upset about it.”

It took every shred of self control you had to refrain from launching yourself off of your stranger’s lap–and dear sweet god, you’re just now realizing you don’t actually know his fucking name–and strangling the idiot in front of you. Honestly though, it was probably less about your self control and more about the way his arm tightened around you, his fingers hooking tighter around your belt loop. He brought his other hand up to take a slow drag off his cigar, the richly sweet smoke curling around your body as he exhaled, his chest pressed comfortingly against your back. He let his hand drop, resting it on top of your thigh, fingers carefully keeping the cigar away from the fabric of your pants.

You felt the movement of his head as he gave Christian a look, glancing up and down before scoffing darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He only held you tighter, even as he opened his mouth, and the rich smoke of his voice filled your ears, deep and dripping honey, sending sparks straight to the fire in your gut.

“You’re no man. You’re barely more ‘n a immature little boy, a waste o’ space n’ air. If you’re not willin’ to stay faithful, then ya shouldn’t be in a relationship. If you weren’t satisfied, it certainly wasn’t somethin’ she was doin’ wrong.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to your temple, and dammit if it didn’t make you wanna melt into a puddle on the floor.

Christian puffed up, looking extremely offended, albeit ridiculous considering he was skinnier than a stick. “Do you have any idea who I am, old man?”

You’re trying very hard not to panic, because you didn’t have time to tell your stranger anything before this conversation, but you shouldn’t have worried, because he simply replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and a short, clipped, “Nah, should I?”

Dammit, you thought, trying to hold back a laugh. You didn’t know he was funny too.

If anything, that only pissed Christian off more. “Sweetcheeks, you didn’t tell your little friend here about your husband?”

“Ex-husband,” you hissed, eyes narrowing and body tensing at the way Christian spoke, all amusement draining from you at the sound of him acting so damn dismissive, it made you wanna claw his eyes out.

“Shh, is alrigh’, love,” your stranger whispered in your ear, and to your surprise, the tension bled back out of your limbs, the low timbre of his growl soothing the fury boiling inside you. Unfortunately, Christian rudely interrupted.

“And just who are you supposed to be?”

Your stranger chuckled, the vibrations rumbling pleasantly against your back. “Nah, I’m nobody special. Jus’ the one who took advantage of your colossal fuck up and married the sweet thing you let get away, ain’t tha’ right, love?”

It took every ounce of control you had to stop the surprise from showing on your face at his declaration. This was so far beyond anything you could’ve ever hoped for, you didn’t quite know how to handle it. There’d been no hesitation on his part, no awkward pauses or stuttering. Just a steady declaration that he was apparently your (fake, fake you reminded your brain) husband.

Christian’s cheeks were turning a ruddy color, nearly incandescent with rage. You should’ve realized that this little charade was gonna push him too far, especially when he bared his teeth and snarled.

“I pity you, sweetcheeks, you’re such an obvious charity case I should’ve known. No way is another man willing to settle down with you, especially considering the fact that you’re used, broken goods. Did’ja tell him that, before you trapped him, babes?” He growled, spittle flying. “Quieter than a doormouse in bed, she doesn’t even know how to properly pleasure a man, else I wouldn’ta needed to find someone else, isn’t that right?”

Ok, that was it. You were going to deck Christian here and now. You were done letting him have all the power, letting him walk all over you like he had for the entirety of your relationship. Just as you placed your hands on the forearm around your waist to push it off you so you could fight your fucking ex, a firm hand on your jaw distracted you, turning your face to the side and tilting it up, then slightly chapped lips were covering yours.

Oh.

Your eyes fluttered shut as calloused fingers smoothed over your jaw, cupping your face as your gorgeous, dangerous-looking stranger slowly pried your lips open and plunged his tongue into your mouth, stroking the length of it alongside your own tongue. You followed his lead, opening up beautifully beneath him, letting him kiss you deeper as he plundered your mouth, growing more heated, more passionate with every brush of his lips against yours. His beard scratched gently at the sensitive skin around your mouth, but beard-burn was quite literally the last thing on your mind. The entire world faded away, until it was just you and your stranger, and the deep, possessive way he kissed you.

He claimed you with his mouth, there was no better way to describe it. He drew back slightly, only so he could bite at your lower lip, teeth pulling at the darkened skin and making you let out a surprised moan before he dove back in, open mouthed and messy. He sucked on your tongue, making you whimper softly, which only spurned him on even more. His fingers tightned on your jaw, keeping you steady against his onslaught, stealing kiss after kiss. He stole the very breath from your lungs, every time you pulled back to gasp for breath he simply chased you, greedily depriving you of precious oxygen.

He tasted like scotch and cigars, the smooth burn and sharp bite of sweet smoke mixing to create something so uniquely him that you honestly couldn’t imagine him tasting like anything else. You wondered if he tasted the vodka on your tongue, or the coconut of the lip balm on your lips. Whatever your taste, he couldn’t seem to get enough.

A loud cough broke the bubble you’d found yourself enveloped in as he kissed you, but even still, he didn’t let you jerk away, pressing one, two, three kisses in quick succession against your swollen and tender lips, glossy and slick with spit.

Your eyes slowly opened, finding him already staring at you, his pupils blown wide, inky black surrounded by a pale, thin ring of blue. His fingers stroked the skin of your cheek, almost reverent as his gaze flickered between your own wide eyes and your ravaged mouth.

Incoherrent sputtering drew your attention away from the man who’d just kissed you–a fucking stranger–like you were the only two people to exisit in the world and not just at a pub in the middle of Liverpool, and you slowly slid your eyes from his to look at Christian.

You had to fight the urge not to laugh. Christian somehow managed to look equal parts dumbfounded and embarrassed as hell. Considering the way you’d just been kissed felt like it had to break some kind of public indecency law, you weren’t too surprised at the mix of emotions on his face, although they were quickly giving way to anger once again.

He didn’t get to interject, however, as your stranger spoke, his voice barely more than a growl. “If you’d been any good in bed, then maybe you’d have some kinda idea about all the pretty sounds my wife can make, but somethin’ tells me you weren’ ever enough to earn those, and like hell am I ‘bout to let you learn how she sounds when she makes ‘em now.”

Abruptly, he stood, easily hoisting you off his lap to stand on the ground, although his arm stayed secure around you and not letting you take even one step away from him.

“Hol’ this for me, love?”

He handed you his cigar, before digging in his back pocket to pull out a wad of cash, throwing it on the bar and making a quick gesture at the bartender to indicate that he was closing your tabs.

He turned back towards your ex, making eye contact even as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could take a drag from his cigar still gripped between your fingers, breathing in deeply before exhaling, chuckling at the disgusted look on Christian’s face.

“My wife ‘n I are leavin now, cause I’ve been deployed too damn long and I don’ feel like wastin’ another second with bloody pricks who mattered so little in her life that she doesn’ even mention you.”

With that, and a gentle nudge, your stranger began to steer you out of the pub, sliding his arm from where it was still wrapped around you, instead slipping his hand into the back pocket on your jeans, cupping your ass and giving your ex a little show, and causing your heartbeat to race. The cool air hitting your face as you stepped out onto the streets of Liverpool felt like being reborn, as you felt the tension that had been gathering all of the last few weekes in preparation for today just… fade away.

The two of you walked a bit away from the door to the pub before your stranger slid his hand out from your back pocket, leaving you immediately missing the security and warmth he’d provided, even with just that little touch. You turned to look at him, silently offering his cigar back, which he took, but just let it dangle from his fingers. His expression was sheepish, and he rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. It was endearing, and you found yourself having to violently squash the part of you that said to just go for it and kiss him again, just to see if he’d still react the same way without an audience.

“I do apologize, ma’am,” he offered, and you blinked, thrown a bit. Why on earth was he apologizing to you? Shouldn’t you be the one apologizing, for even asking a total stranger a favor like that in the first place?

“I might’a taken things a bit far back there, but no one should be talkin’ to ya like that, love. It don’ matter who they were or what they used’ta mean to ya.”

To your horror, you felt your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. You were so used to being the one blamed for the failure of your relationship, being the one told that you must’ve done something wrong to force a man like Christian to seek someone outside of your marriage, that to have someone tell you that it wasn’t ok for you to be treated that way was like a balm on an old wound you didn’t realize had ripped back open.

You had no idea how to respond to what he’d said, and at a complete loss for words, you blurted out the first thing to come to your mind.

“I don’t even know your name?”

His laugh was deep and warm, and you desperately wanted to take it inside you and hold it’s comfort there for the rest of your life. He smiled at you, eyes twinkling, and held his free hand out.

“Captain John Price, British SAS, at your service, love.”

You took a deep breath even as you placed your hand in his, trying not to show how the sound of his title falling from his lips sent a heady rush of arousal through you. You’d thought he might’ve been military, and the confirmation was doing unspeakable things to you.

“I-, uh, sir-” you started, only to be cut off as he brought your fingers up to his lips, brushing them across the backs of your knuckles and making your knees go weak with the look he leveled you with.

“Love, not to be crass, but I’ve had my tongue down your throat and my hand on your arse. I think you can call me John.”

[thatboymikey]

Can I req some poly Billy Loomis & Stu Matcher x male reader??

Where the reader has started working with Randy at the video store and starts ditching them for him at school and the two start getting jealous of how much time Randy seems to be spending with the reader?

Hello everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I've been busy recently, but I hope this is good and that you enjoy it I’m sorry if anyone is out of character, I have never written for these two before and I have not watched the movie in a while, so I apologize for that.

TW: none maybe underage drinking idk

Words:1,234

rating:pg-13

You had recently been hired by Randy at the video store much to Billy and Stu’s Dismay. You explained to them that you needed the money but that didn’t stop them from being annoyed with you. After a week of working there, you realized that Randy was a good guy and you often appreciated the small talk you held during shifts. The talks would range from new releases to the schoolwork you two had forgotten about. After a little while you two eventually began to hang out with Randy outside of work most of the time you two would hang out at each other's place and watch new movies that had just been released. When Billy found out about the two of you hanging out he immediately consulted Stu about it debating whether or not they should bring it up. It was a Friday at school and your two boys were beside you talking about their plans for the weekend as you put away your books. “Hey, Y/N Stu and I are planning on renting some films and doing a movie night at his house you down?” Billy asked as you were closing your locker. “Sorry guys I would love to but I have to work all day tomorrow and Randy and I need to watch the new releases for work,” you explain with disappointment in your voice. “Yeah, like you have to watch the movies with him.” Billy commented with an eye roll “I do I’m sorry but you don’t get to be mad at me for needing to do my job.” you argue “You never hang out with us anymore we miss you.” Stu says dramatically as he swings his arm over your shoulders. “Again I’m sorry but I need to work you know I need the money besides I’ll try to get a shift off it I can but no promises.” you compromised with them as you began to walk out of the school with them. “Can we at least walk you to work?” Stu asked as he lightly took hold of your hand “Yeah that's fine” you replied with a smile “Just try to act civil at the store if you stick around I’m not trying to get fired.” you asked “Yeah yeah whatever maybe it would be good if you got fired at least you could hang out with us again” Billy sighed as he walked behind you and stu. “Billy what the hell is your problem” you stopped as you walked to be face to face with Billy. “Randy… Randy’s my problem” he mumbled under his breath. “Randy what does Randy have to do with any of this?” you question “You’re always with him it’s almost like you like him more than us.” he says while looking at his feet afraid to catch your gaze “Billy look at me,” you say sternly as to let him know you’re being serious. Billy catches your gaze as your eyes soften to look at him “Nothing is going on between me and Randy. We just hang out together every so often to chat and we do watch movies for work so we can review them and recommend them to other people.” you explain as you grab his hands in your own. “I don’t like Randy like that and I’m almost 100% sure he is straight so he has no interest in me either if that's what you’re worried about.” you reassure him “Come on I honestly don’t want to work today so I’ll ask if I can get the day off and hang out with you guys.” you say to make them feel better “yes” stu celebrates as he smiles and grabs your hand. You three begin walking to the store to pick out tapes and to let Randy know that you’re not going to work today. When you arrive at the store Randy greets you warmly with a hug and a smile while he nods at Billy and Stu as they walk around looking for tapes. “Hey Randy, something came up and I can’t work today. Do you think you can cover my shift?” you ask with a sympathetic smile “Yeah no problem why can’t you work today?” he asks with a raised brow “It’s personal I’m really sorry” you reply not wanting to share the real reason why you can’t work. “Oh okay I’ll see you next shift though right?” he asks “Yeah of course I’m sorry again.” you apologize “It’s okay I get it see you later.” he says as you begin walking out “See ya” you reply stepping through the doors to wait outside for your boyfriends to check out tapes for tonight. 

*Stu’s house*

You sit on the couch with Billy in between your legs as you're waiting for Stu to come back with popcorn and drinks “Alright popcorn… and some beer for my two favorite boys” Stu says as he sets down the popcorn and drinks on the table in front of you. “Okay what movies did you rent?” you ask as you grab the cold beer in front of you “We got some good ones alright we’ve got nightmare on elm street, the exorcist, and drum roll please… Friday the 13th!” he says as he pulls out the three tapes they rented “wow all classics I approve,” you say with a cocky grin. “What should we start with?” he asks as he displays the movies in his hand “I wanna watch nightmare on elm street” you say with a smile as he sets the other 2 films down and put in nightmare on elm street. “Okay let’s get this party started” Stu laughed as he took a swig of his beer. “Hey guys,” you say wanting to talk to them about earlier. “Yeah,” they replied as they both turned their attention to you. “I’m sorry about not always hanging out with you. I don't want to make any excuses but I just had work and Randy always wanted to hang out and I felt guilty if I said no,” you explained as you looked at both of them. “I want to be clear nothing is going on between Randy and I and you two are my boys nothing is going to change that,” you say as you take both their hands into yours. “Hey Y/N I’m sorry for becoming so jealous about Randy I just… I don’t want to lose you okay” Billy explained as he looked at you and Stu. “hey it’s okay I get it I’ll make time to hang out with you guys more okay.” you say as you cuddle into both of their arms. “Okay,” they say simultaneously with a smile as they place a kiss on your cheeks then eventually kiss you on your lips. “You’re my boys never forget that I love both of you,” you say as you kiss both of them once more “We won’t,” Billy says with a smile while looking at both you and Stu. “I love you guys” Stu chimes in with a gushy tone as he pulls you closer. After tonight you would eventually hang out with Randy less and less and typically would only talk to him during your shifts or at school. You also took more time out of your schedule to be with Billy and Stu. To say this made them both happy would be an understatement. 

-The end 

[toournextadventure]

I need a scene with Ajax and Birb getting high out their tree and talking about chicken now. And Birb eating the wings only to end up crying about it because she feels guilty.

And Wednesday is just there patting her back in a consoling way, but is also like "Why the hell did I have to fall in love with this big idiot?"

Wednesday didn't know what she had ever done to deserve this. She had picked you, yes, but no one had prepared her for the train wreck that you really were. In fact, no one had prepared her for being with Ajax's best friend. But now she found herself in quite the impossible decision.

You had ordered wings for everyone (with what money, she had no clue) and was more than content to enjoy your "post session munchies," as you had called them. But then Ajax just had to open his big mouth, and now you were arguing.

"It's not cannibalism, I'm not a chicken," you said matter-of-factly.

"But you've got wings," Ajax said back, "that makes you at least part bird."

"Okay, but it's not cannibalism when I eat chicken legs or some shit like that," you said while leaning back and pulling Wednesday closer. She rolled her eyes, but admittedly, she enjoyed the proximity. "I don't have chicken legs."

"But you've got wings," Ajax said again. Was he aware he had already said it? Probably not, Wednesday assumed. "So it must be cannibalism if you eat the wings."

You sat in thought for a moment. Well, it appeared you sat in thought, but Wednesday knew that glazed over look in your eyes. She knew it meant there was absolutely nothing going on in that little head of yours.

"Makes sense to me," you said with a shrug before picking up another one of your wings.

Wednesday debated telling you that, yes, you were eating the one thing you had just said would be considered cannibalism. And even though she loved the macabre possibility, she knew it was a ridiculous impossibility. You were human; an Outcast, yes, but human nonetheless. So she made the decision to open her own mouth.

"You're eating the wings now," she said.

She regretted it the instant you froze, wing partway to your mouth.

You pulled back and stared at the wing in your hand for so long that Wednesday swore you were trying to make it combust. But then she saw the slight quiver in your bottom lip, and the glassiness turn to a watery haze in your eyes, and she didn't even have time to stop you before a tear fell down your cheek.

"I'm eating my own people," you mumbled.

"Woah," Ajax mumbled in return, "guess that's the circle of life."

You didn't seem to care as you tossed the wing into the basket and leaned over to tuck your head into Wednesday's neck. She could feel you sniffling against her skin, and she didn't know what to do. So all she did was what Enid had told her usually worked with people; she patted your shoulder and let you cry it out.

Enid did NOT prepare her for the absolute dumbass that turned out to be you. But Wednesday supposed it could be forgiven. You WERE rather adorable.

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt.7 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter is privileged with working alongside the liverpool fc marketing and public relations team, while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 4.6k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 8]

notes: it's the way that I've hinted at another fic in this chapter and then another one in chapter 8... I love interconnecting my series' ughhh

spamjam._. added to their story!

"here's one for you," jude spoke from his position on the hotel suite couch to gain your attention as you unpacked your things. "bro went from liking her posts to flying her over just for some moral support."

you rolled your eyes as he read out the tweets which he had been enjoying for the past ten minutes now. the way that twitter was rioting over the situation was utterly amusing— from your post on Instagram to jude stating that you were sharing a hotel room. they were having a blast by coming up with theories as to how this even came about.

yes, jude only happened to follow you on instragram at the beginning of the year but that was not the reason you knew each other at all. if it were then this situation would be very awkward. as he would say, "luckily for you, you had the privilege of knowing me before I became the equivalent to ryan gosling."

you wouldn't exactly call it a privilege but whatever made him sleep at night. funny enough, you two met at a football match when you were still in high school. it was strange to see a 17-year-old actively engage in conversation with some random 14-year-old just because he said she was screaming too much.

that wasn't the last of your accidental meetings, however, the next was a few weeks later when your parents invited some friends over from birmingham— and lo and behold who just happened to be the son of those friends.

so here you were at 20 and 23, closer than ever but keeping it as low-key as possible.

you proceeded to listen to jude comment on each tweet, each one funnier than the last. "I swear some of these people have got to be fbi trained." he shook his head and you hummed in response, nearly jumping up when jude yelled out in shock.

"listen to this one," he turned from his position on the couch to look at you in front of the bed. "in early 2023, jude followed jamie back on Instagram and 6 months later she got her job as liverpool's p.r manager. hours later after the announcement the entire squad followed her back, the first of them being trent. jamie and trent have been seen together a lot from then on and she's even tagged him in multiple of her Instagram stories. now what do we know about trent? he plays for england. who else plays for england? jude. where is jamie right now? in barcelona with jude."

you were left dumbfounded, jude staring at you with his eyes wide and obviously impressed. "well that's one way to connect the dots I guess." you shrugged your shoulders, "they're not wrong but they're not quite right either."

a scoff left jude's mouth and he got up from the couch to look out the ceiling-to-floor window looking out at the city. "trent's not the middleman here though. like dude you and I aren't dating so there's no need."

he was right, there was no need for a middleman. it was just pure coincidence but obviously people wouldn't think of it like that. "and I thank the lord for that every single day."

he pulled a face, "stop being dramatic. I'm not that bad and you know it."

you hummed out in debate, getting your things so you could go and shower. "I mean judging by your lack of female interaction--"

before you could finish a pillow was hurled straight at you causing you to yelp out, getting ready to days for the bathroom before he could throw another.

"I talk to woman!" he yelled out after you and you laughed a little louder than intended which prompted him to get another pillow.

"female reporters don't count jude!"

you slammed the bathroom door shut just as he threw the pillow again, a loud thud echoing through the room before it dropped to the floor along with jude's hands. he huffed out in frustration, complaining for a good few minutes before he came to a conclusion that made you double over in laughter.

"just for that, I'll be keeping my eye out for interns from now on! if I marry a reporter one day I'll make sure not to invite you just out spite!"

your first morning in barcelona consisted of nothing but peace. the view you woke up to was breathtaking, definitely the most beautiful sunrise you had ever seen. you took your time getting ready before breakfast and made sure to put together the best outfit you could manage seeing as it was rare that you got to wear summer attire.

jude shot you the most confused look to date when he saw your top. he hit you with the "woman stopped wearing corsets decades ago so I'm a bit confused as to why you're torturing yourself right now."

it took a bit to explain to him that you weren't suffering at all, but he still didn't understand and left it at that so the two of you could head to a restaurant for breakfast. every step you took your eye was caught by something more beautiful than the last, your heart strings tugging in the summer heat.

"I've made up my mind. I'm coming to visit you every three months."

jude didn't oppose the idea and instead encouraged it, saying that he needed a bit more company. everything was recorded, you had your phone out and your camera for double the footage, talking to the camera as you carried on with your day.

"do you really have to film everything?" jude asked from across your table at the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you waited for your breakfast.

you made a sound at the back of your throat and continued to go through the footage you had so far. "unlike you, I have a social media presence and people enjoy the content that I put out okay?"

"uh huh." his eyes wandered over you silently until he was told to check your instagram story, and of course he reposted it being the absolutely amazing friend he was and not because he was in any way forced to do it...

spamjam._. added to their story!

"I don't think anyone understands how crazy it is to hear jude speak in spanish so casually." you turned your camera to look at jude opposite you, adorning an expression of offence.

you suppressed a smile. "this is the same boy who asked me if 'lethargic' was an actual word or if I made it up by the way."

that hit a nerve for him and he put down his fork, and pointed a finger at you while explaining the pointlessness of the word and just how stupid it was. "who uses the word lethargic jamie?" he raised his hands waiting for an answer.

your laugh could be heard behind the camera, obvious judgement in your tone as you teased him. "people who have a vocabulary level that exceeds year 6."

jude shot you an 'oh really look' clearly not buying your reasoning. "just say that you're tired," he grew a bit more defensive and you tried to speak over him but he continued on. "it's never that deep."

you laughed again, telling him that he literally just proved your point. you could feel the stares that you were getting from people passing by— just trying to enjoy their peaceful thursday morning without two idiots arguing about words.

the banter went on for a bit, the camera now set on the edge of the table so that both you and jude were in the frame, tension heightened as you debated. he shrugged his shoulders eventually, "lethargic is not that big of a word either. it's just unnecessary--"

your eyebrows raised, "--oh really?"

he nodded in confirmation, as to say that it was obvious and that he wasn't an idiot. so you did the only correct thing at the moment which brought a wave of nostalgia to wash over jude who couldn't help but laugh.

"spell lethargic then."

he hesitated for a moment, wondering if you were being serious. "go on then, prove me wrong." you urged him, and obviously, he took up the challenge because jude bellingham was not a quitter.

"L I--"

you cut him off with a proud smile, "wrong!"

"L A--"

"wrong!"

by now jude was dumbfounded, immediately reaching out for his cellphone to google the absurd word only to find out that it was spelt with an E. you hummed happily as he complained once again, saying that spelling it with an E didn't make any sense.

"jude victor william bellingham," you began with a smile and he shook his head. "one of real madrid and england's star players at the age of 20 yet he can't spell 'lethargic'."

the rest of the day played out smoothly— sightseeing, shopping till jude's entire backseat was covered in bags, a trip to the beach and using jude as your personal photographer and videographer. now that was what you called a vacation.

the last stop the two of you were going to make would be a small picnic to wrap up the evening seeing as jude would be at practice all-day tomorrow before the match later that evening. either way you wouldn't be alone because jobe would be flying down the morning, so you were more than excited to pick him up at the airport.

your picnic blanket was set down on the grass at a park, and once again the scenery had you gawking. the sunset was to die for, the atmosphere was chirpy yet peaceful and in all honesty if this was your last moment alive you wouldn't have any regrets.

you let out a content sigh, "if this is what being a wag is like then I might have to hit up victoria beckham for some pointers."

jude let out a laugh from beside you, watching silently as you pointed your vlog camera to the sky— moving it from side to side as you took in the scenery.

"I mean you have some good candidates, and you're already in the industry so it's just up to you." he nudged you on the shoulder. "make the move jamie."

a sigh escaped your lips at the fact that he was right. everything was played out in your favour and you needed to use it to your advantage. "I'll dm colwill when we get back to the hotel."

jude doubled over in laughter at your comment but you kept your attention on your camera, settling it down in front of the both of you. "he's younger than you."

you shrugged your shoulders to dismiss his note. "age is just a number or something."

that made you both smile but for two completely different reasons. jude found it funny whereas you were washed with an unfamiliar feeling, your mind flashing back to yours and trent's midnight mcdonald's run when he said the exact same thing.

that remembrance made you keep a mental note to call him later, just to see how things were holding up on that side.

the conversation picked up again when you shut off your camera. and of course, it took the emotional route at the hour of vulnerability. it hopped from family to work to comfortability in your respective situations in a matter of seconds.

it was nice for jude to have this time to talk about stuff like this, you knew he appreciated moments like this where he could express himself more freely without a language barrier or slight anxiety.

when he first left for madrid you remembered the five-hour conversation you had over the phone because he couldn't fall asleep, too unsure and unfamiliar with his surroundings to be able to settle in. with that, you made sure to check up on him daily before bed.

time zones didn't stop you and never would, especially with someone you considered family. jude and jobe were easily younger brothers to you— jude being the irritating younger brother who acted as if he were older than you and jobe being the sweet younger brother that needed constant affection.

you cared for them both dearly, making time to see each other whenever you could when you schedules were free.

"so you found the apartment?" jude asked and popped a grape into his mouth while he listened to you talk about your move out of your sister's house.

maya and noah were moving to london at the beginning of next year, which just so happened to be two months from now. which honestly was a great idea and you were super excited for them, but it was the househunting the was an issue for you because you were so picky.

you weren't too worried about the rent, the main issue was the interior so you took it upon yourself to do some drastic redecorating when you found one. and in four months it was ready, the only thing it was missing was you.

you nodded happily, "I can move in whenever I'm ready."

your answer made jude smile. be knew just how excited you were to finally move into a place of your own because all you'd been doing was saving up. "which is..."

"which is before christmas. and I have a little surprise on the way as well," you retorted in excitement but jude's thoughts immediately went to pregnancy and you could see it on his face, judging by how quickly his eyes dropped to your stomache.

the sun had fully set now, the air beginning to chill but not in a way that had you shivering, but in a way that made you feel relieved. basking in the atmosphere took your mind elsewhere, a glimmer of something in the back of your mind flashing.

your stomach dropped at the memory. one of the many that you've recently.

"we have to go to spain." the glee in your voice bounced off the walls of the bedroom, back to the bed where you and your boyfriend were lying.

he chuckled at your antics and the way that your grip tightened on his torso, his fingers lightly tracing your shoulder. "we'll go anywhere you like baby." he kissed the top of your head.

you looked up at him with doe eyes. "really?"

michael flashed an adoring smile, the same one that showed just how smitten he was for you. you felt a chill run down your spine at the touch of his fingers on your cheeks. "I'd do anything for you."

your throat stung at the memory, something that weighed so heavily on your chest. moments where you two promised to build a family together resurfaced, where you promised to always be there for each other, but this time accompanied by a bitter taste.

you'd accomplished so much these past few months and he wasn't there to witness it like he said he would. there weren't any flowers or handwritten cards with a hug that made you melt. you could still hear his voice sometimes and the way he would speak to you so gently.

at your graduation you could barely enjoy the moment because while being onstage you saw his face in the crowd, an unreadable expression and the words "I'm so proud of you, love" floating aimlessly through the air.

everything he ever said to you was now floating aimlessly through the air.

judebellingham

jobebellingham and 4 245 223 others liked this post

judebellingham had to go back to the hotel like thrice for her to get changed [tagged: spamjam._.]

see all comments below

jobebellingham please never take selfies again

→ spamjam._. agreed

→ judebellingham you're both walking to the stadium I don't care

vinijr ❤️🔥 [liked by judebellingham]

spamjam._.

liked by liverpoolfc and 2 345 234 others

spamjam._. 🌼

see all comments below

jobebellingham it's like you couldn't have waited for me before doing all this 😃

→ spamjam._. we're going to be together all week bro chill 🙄

liverpoolfc jamie come back, the kids miss you 🥲

→ spamjam._. they're lying

trentarnold66 you owe me a mcdonalds run when you get back [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. yes sir 🫡

Ibrahimakonate 🙊❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

curtisjr my gf says you're beautiful 🙄

→ spamjam._. gf?? curtis call me right now istg!!

levicolwill okay supermodel🙄❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. check your dm's

"there's my favourite boy!"

you had your arms spread for a hug as you watched jobe walk up to you with a sheepish smile. you could tell that he was a slight bit embarrassed, but gave in anyway and dropped his bags to embrace you.

he had grown a freakishly large amount since the last time you saw him— towering over you would be an understatement and it took every bit of you not to feel overwhelmed, but how could you when he was so freaken cute??

a shy chuckle came from jobe as you continued to hug him, your arms tightly wrapped around in torso. "you can carry on when we get back to the hotel, people have places to be."

that wasn't good enough of an excuse for you. "they can let me have my moment."

when you got back to the hotel, jude wasn't there as suspected but all your bags were already packed for tomorrow morning's early flight back to madrid. the rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the hotel room and catching up as usual because you didn't want to waste your energy and fall asleep half way into the first half of the match.

"I can't believe I'm about to watch barça and madrid play," jobe commented as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

you two were settled comfortably on the couch set with snacks and the t.v playing as background noise. when you didn't reply he looked up from his phone, only to see you glued to your own with a lopsided smile.

it was unlike you to ignore him, even if it were by accident so it raised some suspicion. he kicked your thigh in an attempt to gain your attention but it didn't work, your fingers typing away at the keyboard for whatever reason. he didn't want to be one of those brothers and take your phone right out of hand and see what had you so interested— that was jude's job.

so instead he resorted to kicking you over and over until you eventually got irritated and yelped out in pain. "jobe my leg," you groaned and began to rub your thigh that he'd been taking hits at.

when you looked at him again his expression had changed, his lips slightly parted in shock. you asked him what the issue was and all he could manage was a scoff of disbelief. there'd only been one other instance where he'd seen you act like this before, and he tried to forget it at most.

"who are you talking to?"

jobe wasn't one to pry and you knew that, and when he did it was out of genuine concern. you cleared your throat awkwardly. "just a friend."

his eyes narrowed at your answer, knowing he caught you. "you don't have friends." in no way did he mean to offend you by saying that, because it was true and as clear as day. he knew you too well, maybe you could hide things from jude for a bit but with jobe it was different because everything came out unintentionally.

a sigh of defeat escaped your mouth and you set your phone down on your lap. "this is a situation my friend is in right now. you're not going to ask any questions okay?"

jobe nodded his head eagerly and sat upright so he could pay more attention. and just like that, you found yourself lost in the explanation and you were sure you nearly namedropped at least thrice but jobe remained attentive and gave his word when needed.

"I mean if they aren't dating then there should be nothing wrong with you--"

you gave jobe a look and he immediately retracted his last word.

"your friend. your friend, not you," he corrected sheepishly and you nodded.

he thought the idea was dumb. you could've just said that you were talking about yourself and he wouldn't have bugged you... that much. "your friend isn't overstepping any boundaries by the sound of it. so she should just go with the flow--"

you couldn't believe that you were taking relationship advice from an 18-year-old right now. this was your lowest. "--whatever happens, happens."

whatever happens, happens.

his advice genuinely seemed to shift some gears in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a bear hug. so that's exactly what you did. "have I ever told you how much I love you?"

the question made him stifle a laugh, the boy tightening his grip around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. "I want to say yes but no."

you slapped his arm jokingly. "you're my favourite brother too. but don't tell jude."

"how can I not??"