#i love 'radiation detector' it's so funny

[mrprettywhenhecries]

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

03. | I Hope that I Don't Fall in Love with You

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 4.2k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, misogynistic themes, gator being endearing and sweet, inexperienced!Gator, unprotected sex, p in v, rough car sex, creampie, spitting, panty stealing, public sex ⇾ a/n: I've kind of been agonizing over this series lately, afraid that my characterization and the story line are kinda all over the place, so hopefully that's just all in my head;;

Despite both receiving warnings to stay away from the other by outside parties, neither can keep their mind off the other, and Gator can't stay away, while Win comes to the decision that she doesn't want him to.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

Win stirred, something waking her from a deep slumber and a dream she couldn’t quite remember.  Her eyelids were too heavy to open just yet, her vision blurry when she tried.  A pleasant ache radiated from between her thighs and the memory of several tiring rounds of sex the night before floated to the surface of her mind, Gator insisting he needed to practice.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rolled over instead, nuzzling into the pillow beneath her face as she reached out for something, a vague feeling that there should be someone warm there to hold onto.  However, when she felt only cold sheets, the covers thrown back, she jerked awake, the fog clouding her mind and body disappearing suddenly.

“Gator?” she asked, her voice cracking and she grimaced at how pathetic she sounded.  A quick glance around the room told her his clothes were gone, the clock reading seven thirty.

He’d gone before she woke, leaving without saying a word and a feeling she didn’t want to identify spread through her stomach, choking her, until the smell of something burning hit her nostrils.

Frowning, Win pulled back the covers and shivered, quickly pulling her robe around her to go investigate when suddenly the shrill shriek of her smoke alarm began to blare.  Outside, Win heard Gator swear loudly from the kitchen and a grin tugged at her lips, relief washing through her before she could think too much about the origin of the emotion.

“Piece of shit, dumb fuckin’ thing—“ Gator muttered as Win emerged from her room to find him trying to turn the alarm off, a ruined pan of eggs smoking on the stovetop.

“What’s going on out here?” she asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter, amusement lacing her voice.  

Gator managed to reach the off button on the smoke detector and grimaced, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he finally looked at her, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Were you seriously trying to make us breakfast?” she asked, unable to keep from giggling softly at the sour look that crossed his face.

“Trying is the key word,” he muttered, dropping the skillet in the sink.  “Wanted to make something a little nicer than cold pop tarts.”

“Jesus, you’re hopeless, Gator,” Win sighed, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth.  “But sweet,” she added and he brightened, glancing hesitantly at her.

“Well, y’know it’s the thought that counts, right?” he murmured, pulling her closer by the hips.  “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly did.  I thought you left…” Win admitted, her gaze dropping, that unwelcome emotion once more burning her chest.

Gator’s amused chuckle brought her head snapping up.

“You thought I snuck out without sayin’ goodbye and thanks for the tumble?” he teased, a shit eating grin on his stupid handsome face.  “Didn’t think you’d be so upset over something like that,” he drawled, pleased as punch and Win spluttered defensively.

“That’s not—!”

“Ain’t that cute,” Gator mused, wending his arms around her tighter, pressing her chest to his.  “Looks like someone’s gettin’ attached,” he taunted lightly, his eyes searching hers. “What was it you said, don’t go fallin’ in love just cause we slept together?  Something to that effect?” he taunted further and Win scowled.

“Very funny,” she snapped, turning her face away, or trying, Gator catching her jaw with his hand and directing her face back toward him, leaning in til his lips barely brushed hers.

“You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” he murmured before his lips pressed to hers, parting to kiss her deeper and Win melted against him, past caring about morning breath, her tongue meeting his in a gentle caress.

“Wish I could stay longer, but I gotta get ready for my shift soon,” he groaned, pulling back to gaze at her from under long lashes that had no right to be that beautiful, his next words spoiling the effect somewhat.  “Since you’re awake, you wanna whip us up something, babe?” he asked, hopefully.

Win rolled her eyes, pushing him back with an unamused snort.  “One thing you should know about me, babe,” she said, emphasizing the word, “is that I’m probably about as good a cook as you are.  So how about those pop tarts?” she offered instead.

Gator laughed, shaking his head ruefully.  “And here I thought all women were naturals in the kitchen.”

Win flashed him a flat stare before pinching his side, ignoring his indignant yelp.

“Watch it, Tillman, I could still kick you out without breakfast.”

“Alright, alright!  I’ll get the pop tarts!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender and Win reluctantly smiled.

Gator busied himself with unwrapping the pastries and dropping them in the slots of the toaster, pressing down the lever as he glanced at Win out of the corner of his eye.

“So… when can I see you again?” 

Win chewed her lip at his question, shrugging a shoulder, not trusting herself to voice the answer that initially sprang to her lips.

“Surprise me,” she said instead, wrapping her arms around herself.

Gator watched her for a moment before nodding, a grin spreading across his face.  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, snatching one of the poptarts as it popped up, only to drop it with a hiss of pain.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot!” he yelped, shaking his hand and Win had to fight not to laugh, managing to hold back the brunt of her amusement and only letting out a soft snort.

“Yeah, no shit,” she exclaimed, turning on the faucet and guiding his hand to the cold water.  “Hold that there for a few minutes til the pain goes away,” she instructed, turning away to carefully pick up the pastry with a napkin and hand it to him so he could eat while he waited.

“Why is it every time you try to look cool, you end up looking like a dork?” Win teased, pouring two cups of coffee and adding creamer – Gator struck her as the type to like his coffee sickeningly sweet.

“I don’t look like a dork,” Gator huffed sullenly, his mouth full of the rest of his breakfast.

Win shook her head ruefully, brushing the crumbs from his face before handing him the cup of coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned with an amused twist of her lips, and Gator answered with a flat stare, clearly not amused.

Win shook her head, leaning against the counter as he took a sip.  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing though, y’know?  It’s endearing,” she murmured.

Gator scoffed, his brows pinching.  I don’t wanna be endearing,” he muttered.  “I want you to think I’m hot shit,” he admitted and Win’s expression softened.

“Don’t try so hard,” she said, shrugging as if it were easy.

Gator nodded slowly, his gaze faraway, as if deep in thought, until he winced.  “I can’t feel my hand,” he whined and Win couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, quickly stifling it as she turned off the tap and grabbed a towel, taking Gator’s hand to dry it and work a little warmth back in.

“How’s that?  Better?” Win asked, pressing a kiss to his palm for good measure, her eyes flicking up to his in time to see his lips part and pink rise to his cheeks.

Hastily clearing his throat, Gator flexed his hand.  “Much better,” he said, grabbing his hat from the counter and tugging it on.  

“Ah, shit,” he swore under his breath when he caught sight of the time.  “I gotta go.  I’ll, uh, I’ll text you,” he said, hurrying to the front door to stuff his feet in his boots and run.

Win watched him go, a bemused smile on her face til she realized what she was doing and shook herself out of it, trying to ignore the confusing mix of emotions that plagued her. 

When she stepped into the bathroom to start the water for her shower, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and gasped, gaping at the series of dark hickies Gator had left along her neck.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” she growled, knowing she’d never be able to cover them completely.  

Moments later her phone lit up on the counter, Gator’s name flashing across the screen.

🐊:  had fun last night ;)

If Win weren’t so annoyed with him at the moment, she’d find the fact that he barely waited ten minutes after leaving to text her – no doubt doing so while driving – amusing and rather endearing, but she was too worked up for that.

Snapping a photo of her neck, she furiously typed out a message to go with it before hitting send.

Winnie: WTF Gator?  Just had to go and mark me up, huh??

Grabbing a towel from the closet, she slipped her robe off, waiting for him to reply.

🐊: sorry, couldn’t help it.  think of em as something to remember me by ;p

Unable to hold onto her anger any longer, Win rolled her eyes, sending one last reply before climbing in the shower.

Winnie: you’re an ass

“You’re late, Deputy.”

Roy sat behind his desk, his face half hidden by the newspaper in his hands.  He barely glanced up to look at Gator as he sauntered into the station.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Gator mumbled, heading to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup, still needing to wake up some more, wishing he was still in bed with Win.

Roy grunted, finally folding the paper and tossing it down on the desk.  “Where were you last night?  Didn’t see your cruiser parked at the ranch,” he said, turning his full focus on his son.

Gator opened his mouth, searching for an answer, but another Deputy cut him off.

“Big hero insisted he had to escort Miss Lewis home after thwarting her assault in Frankie’s parking lot,” the man drawled, a shit eating grin on his face.  “You stay the night too, hero?  Get a nice reward?” he taunted, laughing at the disgruntled look on Gator’s face.

“Lewis?” Roy asked, flipping through the paperwork from last night's collar.  “Win Lewis, works as a bartender at Frankie’s,” he mused, reading from the arrest report before glancing up at Gator.  “Which one’s she?”

Again, the other officer answered before Gator could get a word in, his mouth hanging open in a wordless splutter.

“Short dyed blonde hair, all inked up.  Got a mouth on her too, I hear, little spitfire,” he said, smirking pointedly at Gator.  “Cute though.  I wouldn’t kick her outta bed,” he added.

Gator narrowed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw flexing in annoyance before he smoothed his expression and turned to his dad.

“She was pretty shaken up after the attack, didn’t wanna be alone.  You know how women are,” he said with a shrug.  “I slept on the couch, damn uncomfortable though,” he grumbled, knuckling the small of his back to sell the story.

Roy stared at him for a long moment, frowning.  “I seem to remember pulling her over once,” he mused, sitting up in his chair and reaching for his hat.  “I hate to judge on first impressions and appearances,” he murmured, shaking his head, “but that girl’s trouble, mark my words.  Too headstrong for her own good.  Needs a man to put her in her place,” he said, fixing Gator with a stern glance from under the wide brim.  “Best you keep a wide berth of that one,” he warned and Gator let out a scoff, quickly nodding in agreement.

“Right.  Right, yeah,” he mumbled, watching his dad rise from his chair and leave the room, but he was already thinking of how much he wanted to see her again.

Remembering her car was still at the bar, Win had to text her friend and coworker to give her a ride for her shift.

As soon as she climbed into the car, her coworker, Lydia’s gaze went straight to her neck where the high collared jacket Win had on failed to completely obscure the dark marks Gator’d left behind and her eyes rounded.

“What are those?” she cried, a devious grin spreading across her face as she pulled away from the curb.

Win scowled and tugged at her collar.  “You know damn well what they are,” she snapped, pulling down the visor to check her reflection in the small mirror on the back.

“So, who are they from?” Lydia asked, still wearing a shit eating grin, but Win kept her mouth shut, throwing her friend a pointed look to mind her damn business and Lydia took the hint, sighing dramatically.

“I’m sure I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Thankfully, for Win, it was a relatively quiet night at the bar and she had to admit after the night before she was wary of anyone who wasn’t a regular.  Luckily, Lydia handled most of the unfamiliar faces for her while she hung back and cleaned the glasses.

Win’s phone buzzed again and she wiped her hands before pulling it from her pocket and rolling her eyes at the message, a tiny smile playing at her lips.

“Girl, who have you been texting all night?” Beau, the fry cook, asked, leaning out the order window in an attempt to read over her shoulder.

“No one!” Win answered quickly, pressing her screen to her chest so he couldn’t see.

“Probably whoever gave her those hickies,” Lydia teased, sidling up to the bar next to her and hooking a finger in her collar, tugging it down.

“What?” Beau gasped, craning to see.  “How the hell did I miss those?” he exclaimed.

“Come on, spill,” Lydia insisted, waiting.

“It’s none of your business,” Win said lightly, slipping past her to check inventory.

“Oh, you know what,” Beau exclaimed, snapping his fingers and leaning in conspiratorially.  “You’ll never guess who I spied our girl flirting with last night.”

“I was not flirting,” Win called, overhearing them from across the bar.

“Okay, you keep telling yourself that, honey,” Beau retorted before turning his attention back to Lydia.

“Who?” Lydia exclaimed and Beau’s grin turned impish.

“Gator Tillman.”

“No!” Lydia gasped, turning back to gape at Win.  “Did you sleep with him?”

Win winced, knowing her friends would react this way.  “Fine.  Yes, I did,” she snapped defensively, tossing the bar towel slung over her shoulder down to the counter.  “After last night, I didn’t wanna be alone, so I invited him in… and one thing led to another,” she muttered reluctantly.

“Was he… good?” Lydia asked, making a face.

“He wasn’t… bad,” Win admitted, hating the way her body betrayed her, her face flushing hotly.

“Please tell me this was just a one time thing,” Beau said, sobering.  “He may have some looks goin’ on, but baby, you know his family’s reputation, plus boy's a cop and a loser.”

Win sighed.  There was that phrase again, the one that made her itch to defend him.  “I know…” she muttered reluctantly, staring at the bar top.

“Beau’s right, that’s not a family you wanna get tangled up with.  Women tend to go missing around his daddy," Lydia said quietly, and Win couldn't exactly argue with her.

Once they’d finished closing up, Win’s friends walked her to her car, making sure she was alright before heading home themselves. 

Inside her car, Win felt safer, checking that her pistol was still in the glove box before pulling out of the parking lot.  In the seat beside her, her phone vibrated, but she didn’t pick it up, already knowing who it was.  After the conversation with her friends, that torn feeling was back.  She knew she and Gator didn’t belong together, so why did she still want to see him so bad?

When the Sheriff’s car pulled out behind her and flashed its lights, Win wasn’t surprised.  For half a second she thought about gunning it and leaving Gator behind in the dust, just to see what he would do, but it wouldn’t make a difference, he already knew where she lived.

Pulling off the side of the road, she rolled down her window and waited.  It wasn’t long before Gator sauntered over and leaned heavily against her car, ducking his head to look in her window.

“Know why I pulled you over?” he asked, a smug grin gracing his features as he tapped his fingers against her door.

“Honestly, I’m not sure, Deputy.  I’m not aware I broke any laws,” Win replied, batting her eyes at him innocently.

Gator’s gaze roamed the inside of her car til it landed on her phone, laying face down on the passenger seat.

“Well, y’see, I sent you a message and you didn’t reply,” he murmured, a frown tugging at his chapped lips.

Win snorted softly.  “I thought it was against the law to text and drive,” she countered, arching an eyebrow at him.

Gator shook his head, fighting back a grin.  “That’s only when you’re texting anyone but me.”

“Oh.  Oh, I see,” Win exclaimed, rolling her eyes.  “I’m sorry Deputy, I wasn’t aware of that law.”

Gator narrowed his eyes at her, pulling her door open.  “I’m gunna need you to step out of the vehicle, miss,” he exclaimed and Win’s brows rose.

“And what for?”

“Well, you’re sassin’ an officer of the law, miss, and I just can’t allow that,” he drawled, his smirk fixed firmly back in place and a thrill ran through Win at the sight.

Unbuckling her seat belt, Win stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

“Hands on the top of the car,” Gator instructed.  

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Win asked, stepping up to him, her chin rising defiantly.  “You like bossing me around, Deputy?” she purred, her gaze holding his. It was certainly a change from his demeanor the night before.

Gator clicked his tongue and spun her, forcing her against the side of the car before nudging her legs apart with his foot and Win gasped as he began to roughly pat her down, just an excuse to feel her up, his wandering hands sending heat rushing through her.

It was as if Gator became more confident when he had a part to play, and Win couldn’t deny how much it seemed to turn her on.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he grunted, stilling, his breath hot against her neck as he pressed his hips into her ass and Win bit back the moan that threatened to slip out, not wanting him to know how much she was enjoying it.

“Sounds like someone’s pussy-whipped, Deputy,” she teased and Gator let out a laugh, his hand slipping between her legs.

“With a pussy this sweet, can you blame me?” he drawled, suddenly turning her back around to face him, pinning her back to the car, his lust blown eyes roaming her face before dipping lower to admire the marks he’d left.

“You didn’t even try to cover them up?” he breathed, his grin stretching wider.

Win’s mouth fell open.  “That’s not–!” she exclaimed, but Gator wouldn’t hear it, leaning in to silence her with a kiss, swallowing the rest of her excuse, his tongue invading her mouth.

“Seems to me you wanted people to see,” he drawled in amusement, nipping at her bottom lip and noting the way her breath caught.  “Did anyone ask about ‘em?” he wondered.

“Yeah, thanks a lot for that,” Win huffed sullenly, not wanting to repeat what her friends had said about him.

Gator snorted, kissing her again, his arms boxing her in, pressing her tighter to the car as his mouth moved against hers bruisingly.

“Did you touch yourself?” Win asked between rough kisses, sucking on his tongue before pulling back to raise an eyebrow at him.  

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t stop thinking about me.  Did you touch yourself in your cruiser, fisting your cock to the thought of this sweet pussy?” she taunted and even in the dark she could see the flush that rose to Gator’s cheeks.

“No,” he huffed, pressing his thigh between her legs, against her aching core.  “I was waiting for the real thing,” he admitted, kissing her neck as her head lolled back against the car.

“Good boy,” she breathed teasingly, grinding desperately against his leg, throwing what was left of her dignity aside.

At Win’s praise, Gator moaned out loud, frantically reaching for the back door handle and yanking it open.

“Need you now,” he practically growled, tugging her skirt up and nearly tearing her panties down before forcing her into the back seat and tucking the discarded garment into his pocket.

“I’m not getting those back, am I?” Win asked, slipping to the edge of the seat and letting her legs fall open, giving Gator a good view of glistening sex as he fumbled with his belt.

“Nope,” he murmured, hissing as he finally freed his throbbing length.

“You like smelling panties too?  Jeeze, you really are a pervert, Tillman,” she taunted, gasping as he bullied his cock between her slick folds.  “Shit—!”

“You like to talk a lot until I’m buried balls deep in you,” he countered, barely waiting for her to adjust before snapping his hips to hers.

“G-Gator—“ Win whined, biting her lip against the sting of his stretch.

“Huh?  What’s that?  Can’t hear you Princess,” he grunted, smirking smugly as he sped up, his thrusts growing aggressive in his excitement, his cock nearly slipping out of her.

“Slow down,” she hissed, wincing as he bottomed out, hitting her cervix with a little too much force.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Gator asked, stilling abruptly.

“Just… remember what I said about the g-spot, okay?  It’s less about how deep you go and more about the angle,” Win reminded him breathlessly, adjusting her position and Gator frowned, his expression darkening at his mistake.

Pulling his hat from his head, he tossed it into her back seat.  Pursing his lips, he spat, letting the saliva land where their bodies were connected before he rocked into her slower, drawing a moan from her when his cock dragged against her spongy g-spot.

“Just like that—“ Win gasped, wishing he was pressed against her, instead of standing outside the car, his hands grasping her thighs, keeping her from sliding across the back seat.

This time when he sped up, he seemed to keep her advice in mind, not just thrusting blindly into her and focusing only on his own pleasure.

“M’close, you close?” he asked through gritted teeth, fighting not to blow his load too soon, and Win let out a whine, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit to catch up to him, but Gator caught her wrist, pulling her hand away.

“Uh uh Princess,” he grunted, spitting once more on her cunt before desperately rubbing at her sensitive bud, wanting to show her he could make her cum all on his own.  

At his touch, Win let out a cry, her mouth falling open, electricity coursing through her with each sloppy swipe of his fingers.  

“Fuck— Gator, I’m—!” her words cut off in a high pitched whine and as soon as she clenched around him, he was a goner, exploding inside her, each jerky rut of his hips filling her further.

When he stilled, pulling out of her, his eyes greedily drank in the sight of her ruined hole and the mess he’d made of her.  Pulling her panties from his pocket, he cleaned her up, smirking at the way she twitched, her walls still fluttering and clenching around nothing before he stuffed the soiled panties back in his pocket.

“Shit Gator, you’re a fast learner,” Win groaned, half pushing herself up against the seat and pulling her skirt back down as she watched Gator tuck himself back into his cargo pants.

“Had a good teacher,” he murmured, buckling his belt back up, and a small grin tugged at Win’s lips.

“So, uhm,” he paused to clear his throat.  “You’re not… seeing anyone else are you?” he asked, avoiding her gaze to run a hand over his hair, making sure it was still in place.

“I’m not… at the moment,” she admitted, frowning at the flicker of emotion that stirred in her chest.

“Good,” Gator replied gruffly, glancing back at his cruiser, checking the road to make sure they were still alone.  “Otherwise I’d have to arrest ‘em, make sure I'm the only one in the picture.”

“You’re starting to sound a little possessive, Gator,” Win pointed out, sitting up.

“Yeah well, I’ve never been much good at sharing,” he mumbled, turning his head to rub his nose and spit.

“You’d really arrest someone for me?” Win asked, laughing at the thought.

Gator shrugged.  “I kinda already did,” he snorted before sobering, his words barely audible.  “I’d do anything for you.”

“Gator—“ Win breathed, frowning, but he cleared his throat, pressing on.

“I better get back to it, I’m still on the clock, after all,” he huffed, realizing he’d gotten a little too sappy and trying to quickly reel it back in.

“Gator, wait—“ Win exclaimed, but his lips were on hers before she could stand and he straightened, grabbing his hat and slipping it back on his head.

“I’ll text you,” he said, nodding to her before turning away and striding back to his cruiser without another word, leaving her wanting more and starting to realize that she’d already decided that she was going to keep seeing him.

⇾ taglist. @heartbreak-sandwich @b1tchy3lf @super-unpredictable98 @sugarcookiesteve

[hardware-sparks]

misc cat posting

[beldaroot]

I love thinking of scenarios of Richie in interviews!! He’s be so so hilarious without even trying. He’d constantly be talking about Eddie and make jokes about how his fans look forward to his interviews not to hear about him but to hear about Eddie! Fans would make compilations of his outfits that range from so suits weird it’s probably from vogue to regular outfits that look like they picked him up from the streets and decided to interview him.

Also imagine if he brought Eddie to interviews or interviews at the red carpet with Eddie on his arm as his date!!!

yessss i love thinking about richie in interviews too!! (here’s a fic rec list i made for famous!richie fics) imagine before he went back to derry his interviews were always funny but they weren’t really personal. he spent a lot of time promoting his new works and maybe once in awhile talking about past hook-ups and stuff, but like always, everything felt like a joke. 

now fast forward to after derry 2.0, and his interviews are so much more lively! he suddenly has six friends he’s always talking about and the stories he tells seem so far-fetched but they’re amusing all the same. and let’s say at first his and eddie’s relationship is very secretive, so he doesn’t want to immediately put any romantic spin on it, but he’s always gushing about eddie anyway. and interviewers will pull up paparazzi photos of the two of them doing random stuff; going grocery shopping together, getting dinner, talking walks around the neighborhood with a dog - eddie always looking pristine and put together while richie is in obnoxious and casual clothes, but somehow they still look amazingly perfect together. articles are constantly rating their outfits and speculating their relationship. eddie hates all the attention so most of the pictures will include richie flipping the camera off lol. and when they do finally make their relationship public, the world goes crazy! he announces it on some late night show as a guest, and everyone can basically see the love radiating off of him! the video ends up on the trending page :D 

i just love richie being whipped for eddie. no matter what the interview - wired autosearch, reading thirst tweets (eddie definitely had on of his own tweet sent in and is jealous of all of the other tweets richie reads lol), buzzfeed puppy interview, going undercover, the lie detector test - he always has to bring up eddie in someway! this is his childhood friend and crush turned into boyfriend, fiance, husband... he sometimes can’t believe it’s real, so he has to be as public as possible to let the whole world know! i can totally see him asking reporters if eddie can join in interviews, and all of them are wary at first, but then they see how funny they are together with their quick wit and flirtatious banter, everyone just falls in love with them :’) eddie’s still a bit uncomfortable about publicity, but whenever he’s with richie he’s always having fun so he learns to love the limelight a little bit too. but he definitely makes sure the whole world know that richie is only his and they make sure to have their quiet moments outside the crawling public eyes <3

[lettrespromises]

╰┄───➤   LettresPromises informs you : you have one notification. ❜

╰──➤ Kuroo Tetsurou and you share a correspondence, would you like to read it? ❜

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 :

❝Can you keep a secret? Secret Letters, a inter-high program which delivers anonymous love letters to designated people, has recently gained quite the popular status until becoming the number one reference for confessions. But is it really possible to remain objective when you see that the person you set your eyes on wishes to send a letter to someone who isn’t you?❞

➤ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 : 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍.

And there you were, standing amongst the deafening silence and the agonizing solitude which had already infected the air. Stating that your body housed an uncontrollable amount of tension was an euphemism, truthfully, you were still wondering how you hadn’t succumbed to the pain created by your subconscious.

A bag of snack and diverse kinds of drinks were at your feet, and upon glancing at them, they seemed like they were the beholders of all the secrets in the world, all the hushed secrets you wished you once knew. They seemed worthy of holding your attention, or rather, you were unworthy of giving your attention to anything else but an animated object.

You hadn’t dared to touch your phone or even throw a glance at it ever since Kuroo replied to you, it was a short answer, you were convinced that it was quite acerbic, too. You feared that touching your phone would actually make your skin burn and redden due to the imaginary heat radiating off your phone, what caused the heat? Probably fear, you assumed.

You were so lost in the torments of your thoughts and pseudo hypothesis that you hadn’t heard the crashing footsteps belonging to the Scheming Captain, Kuroo Tetsurou, you only noticed his presence once the light emanating from the Sun died under his height, once the gleam in your orbs created by the rays of sunshine died at the same time.

Kuroo had already crossed his forelimbs to his chest whilst his facial structure gave you no clue whatsoever as to what he was thinking about, and for the first time in your life, you felt like his opponent, you felt like the prey of the Scheming Captain.

“I came earli-”

“You didn’t come this morning. Why?” He cut you off, his orbs bore into yours to anticipate whether or not you would choose to lie to his face.

“I didn’t wake up on time, and I totally forgot about morning practice. Kuroo, I’m so, so sorry, I swear it’s the last time this happens.” You stated in your defense, looking at him with pleading eyes through your lashes.

“It’s funny, you also said it was going to be the last time the time before, you know, where you also happened to be late. So, tell me, don’t you think it’s funny too?” Kuroo half-asked through a rhetorical question, acerbity dripping like a toxic nectar from his words as his facial expression remained unchanged.

“Kuroo, I promise you that this is the last time. It’s my fault, and I already apologized for it. Just-... What do you expect from me? I’ll make up to you and the team.” You pleaded in return as you played with your fingers to exude your stress (a detail he didn’t miss), the words leaving your lips like a plea trying to reach to his chained heart.

“I know you apologized and all, but I’m just wondering if you’re also going to apologize for feeding me this bullshit?” Kuroo continued, and you cursed yourself for even thinking that lying to the epitome of a human lie detector was worth the risk.

An angel passed. The movements of your fingers became more an more frenetic, as if they were trying to follow the frenzied rhythm of the fear coursing through your entire body. Another detail he didn’t miss. You kept on trying to exude the anguish consuming you, so you quit looking at him, thinking that laying your glance elsewhere could ease your nerves if Kuroo’s face wasn’t in your vision field anymore. You opened your mouth and robotically closed it as soon you noticed no sound was coming out of it, and your cheeks adopted a shameful rosy tone under the embarrassment of not being able to express yourself properly. Kuroo never missed each detail about you, truthfully, he made a mental note and mental associations of your gestures and linked them to your emotions.

You were looking elsewhere, your fingers were becoming martyrs, you couldn’t find anything to say— he concluded without any difficulty that you were tortured by your very own emotions. He couldn’t help but frown at the sight of your trembling form before his eyes, not because you couldn’t reply to him, but rather because he knew it was his fault. He knew that the toxins dripping down his words had poisoned you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you don’t have to—” “The reason why I’ve been acting weird these past couple of days was because I was scared of losing you.” You cut him off this time, such acerbic poetry, “Ever since we talked about this Secret Letters thing, I felt like you were disappointed in me and even stopped trusting me” You continued, wiping away the pearls of salt gathering at the corner of your eyes,  “I know I shouldn’t have lied, I know I messed up so bad but I couldn’t find myself to sleep at night when all I could think about was whether or not you had decided to give up on me because you didn’t trust me anymore.” You eventually concluded, an unwanted sob punctuated the end of your sentence. Kuroo felt trapped at the bottom of a pit without any way to crawl back to the surface and admire the light radiating off your angelic self, and surely, he told himself he deserved to stay at the bottom of this pit. A sentiment of guilt was eating him alive and settled in his stomach where a huge knot had already been taking form and grew wider and wider until knocking the air out of his lungs. It was his fault.

Reflex kicked, his arms encircled your trembling frame and he caged you against his chest whilst the frenetic rhythm of his heart against your eardrums testified of the awakening of his biggest fear— losing you. He held onto you as if you were bound to fade away at any given moment, as if his fear had the power to make you disappear. But your hearts beat in unison, and although you were both consumed by guilt and fear, you both needed each other.

“Y/N, will you look at me? Could you do that for me, please?” This time, the pleas came from him, but you obliged and laid your orbs on him, he couldn’t help but turn his lips into a faded smile at the sight of your face. “Just remember one thing, you will never, and I mean never, lose me. Whether you want it or not, I’ll always be in your life, I’ll always be there, yeah? I’m sorry, too, for everything. I shouldn’t have told you these horrible things and even less tell you what you should do and not do. You don’t have to accept my apolog-” “You’re forgiven, Kuroo.” You replied in a whisper, a sentence which sounded so weak in comparison to its importance. You let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding whilst Kuroo’s thumbs brushed away the last remaining tears cascading down your face, you were going to be okay. You stayed in each other’s embrace for a short while, and gave in to your hearts’ desires... Until Yamamoto came around, his eyes widened at the sight before him— how could Kuroo Tetsurou have the audacity, the nerve, the insolence to hold his precious manager in his arms? His mouth was set agape in anticipation for his future yelling session but Kuroo had already caught that and set you free from his embrace.

“I’ll go calm Yamamoto down for a few seconds, oh, and don’t worry about the bags, I’ll cary them inside. You can go change before practice starts, yeah?” He offered a smile as soon as the last words died on in his lips, a smile you reciprocated as a silent form of agreement. And as Kuroo left you to apply the dear rules of performative language and soothe the nerves of Yamamoto, you pulled out your phone from your back pocket and finally replied to a certain text now that you had no reason to back down from doing so.

➤𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @amoroushero, @washione, @volexis, @lelebells, @boosyboo9206, @mkkhaikyuu, @bokutosuwus, @cleopatera, @kukkeii

➤𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑.

bonus :

wanna know what song kuroo was listening to? check it out here and listen well to the lyrics, they might have a correlation with this chapter and the chapters to come.

[queercapwriting]

To be honest I have a headcanon where Lena is like the baby gay and is trying so hard to flirt with Kara aka the oblivious bi mess we all know and love. Then like Lucy and Vasquez in the background and ending up helping the lil' luthor because while it's entertaining it's also mortifying to watch; with a heavy dose of good natured teasing from them towards both Lena and Kara.

“This is getting excruciating,” Vasquez muttered to Lucy, because really, it was.

Lena had been vouched for by a very protective Kara and a very defensive Supergirl and had been screened by a protective (of Kara) J’onn and given the all clear - so she’d been in the DEO about as much as Maggie had been of late.

But at least the older Danvers girl had finally figured out that those butterfly feelings were because she wanted to date Maggie, and when Maggie kissed her back, at least she finally understood that Maggie wanted to date her.

And so, they were dating.

But Kara and Lena?

Good Lord.

Lena was trying her damnedest. Wearing her hair in a high ponytail that made Kara gulp and splutter and go to adjust her glasses even when she wasn’t wearing them as Supergirl.

Leaning over Kara in the lab, Lucy and Vasquez not needing superhearing to know exactly how hard Lena’s heart was pounding as she tried to inch closer to Kara, tried to radiate to Kara that it was okay if Kara leaned in, too, that it was more than okay if Kara leaned in, too.

She was radiating it to everyone. Poor J’onn constantly looked like he had a headache. 

Lena was radiating it to everyone, it seemed, but Kara.

Kara, who kept gaping when Lena walked by and then snapping her head into a sharp shake, clearly telling herself that Lena wasn’t into her, that Lena wasn’t even into women, and Kara should just stop being such a bad friend already.

“I dunno, Vasquez,” Lucy shrugged, leaning back and putting her feet up on Winn’s desk, utterly unconcerned that he was trying to use his computer. “It’s kind of… amusing? Does that make me a terrible person?”

“Your utter disregard for my very advanced technology is what makes you a terrible person, Lane,” Winn muttered. Lucy ruffled his hair and begrudgingly took her feet down from his desk. She put them on his lap instead.

“Now you can use your very advanced technology,” she grinned. Winn glared for a moment before shrugging and continuing to program some complicated tech detector that Lucy only vaguely understood but deeply appreciated.

“And it is, by the way,” Winn added, not even needing to look up from his work to hear Lena’s extra breathy laugh at something utterly less than funny Kara had said. “Both excruciating and hilarious. We should do something to help, though. Because poor Lena. I’ve been there. Kara’s not gonna get it until Lena tattoos it onto her forehead.” He furrowed his brow. “You know what. Maybe not even then.”

He turned and sighed, shaking his head affectionately at Kara. “Seriously. You guys need to save Lena from… this. And J’onn. The man looks like he is suffering.”

“I am suffering, Mr. Schott,” J’onn murmured as he walked by behind them. “Don’t you all have things you need to be doing?”

“Like curing your headache? Sir?” Vasquez asked. J’onn covered his face with his hand, knowing when his children had defeated him. 

“Sure, Agent Vasquez. By all means, assist Ms. Luthor. Just… just don’t think so loudly about it.”

Lucy kicked her feet off Winn’s lap and snapped to attention with a grin. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good God,” J’onn just muttered as he walked away.

“Anything I can do, Papa Bear?” Winn asked.

“You can never call me that again,” J’onn said, but the smile in his eyes was obvious, and Winn didn’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

+++

“Um, excuse me, Ms. Luthor. Ma’am. Can I borrow you?”

Lena turned away from Kara with raised eyebrows, raw and hopeless want still frozen in her eyes. “It’s Lena, really. Just Lena. I’d prefer it, truly.”

“Ms. Lena. Ma’am.”

Lena sighed and laughed, putting her hand on Kara’s arm. Lucy and Vasquez watched Kara’s heart beat out of her chest at the contact, and it was all either of them could do to not groan aloud.

“I’ll be back,” Lena told Kara, who looked like she was still trying to remember Earth languages. “Lead the way,” she told Vasquez gamely.

But she and Lucy didn’t lead Lena to the lab. They led her to the armory.

“Does J’onn think I need to learn how to defend myself better?” Lena asked, concern in her voice.

“No, actually, he knows exactly how well you can kick ass,” Lucy smirked, hopping up to sit casually on one of the old targets Winn was reprogramming to move in and out of the visible spectrum. 

Vasquez closed the door behind them. “We just needed someplace quiet to talk.’

Lena visibly stiffened. “Have I done something wrong?” Her voice lost all the softness it had been acquiring of late, leaning more toward the stern CEO her mother had trained her to be.

Defense after defense after defense.

Lucy softened and put her hands out to Lena. “No, God, sorry. Listen, I’m a military brat and Vasquez has been a secret agent since birth, I guess we don’t know how to do anything without being…”

“Extra?”

“Terrifying?”

“Extra terrifying?”

“I was going to say suspiciously secretive.”

Lena huffed, but her shoulders relaxed just slightly even as she hugged herself. “Well? What is it, then?”

Lucy Lane was straight - well, not straight, but it was just an expression, after all - out of the JAG Corps, so she didn’t really see much point in indirectness.

“You’re in love with Supergirl. Kara. Everyone knows she’s the same person, it’s not like the glasses exactly do much and it’s not like Alex doesn’t constantly call Supergirl her sister and it’s not like you’re exactly stupid.”

Lena was blinking like her contacts were acting up, and her shoulders were back to being tense.

“I… think she’s still hung up on that first part you said, Luce. The in love part.”

“Yes, I am,” Lena said, barely at a whisper. “I am… I’m not even ou… how did you -”

“Military training.”

“Spy stuff.”

“Also, we have eyes.”

“And ears.”

“And we’ve seen -”

“And heard -”

“You two interact once or twice.”

Lena blinked again. “Do you two ever -”

“Not finish each other’s sentences? Occasionally.” 

“Yeah, but you should see my friends Fitz-Simmons, we’re not nearly as bad as they are,” Vasquez shrugged. “But you’re changing the subject, Ms. Luthor. Ms. - Lena. Crap, okay. Lena. You’re changing the subject.”

“I… okay. Well.” Lena’s shoulders were tense again. Very much so. But there was also something that might have been hope with a dash of excitement in her eyes. Like she finally had people to talk to about… all this.

“Well, what if I were?” She lowered her voice. “In love with Kara?”

“Well then,” Lucy smiled from ear to ear, “we’re going to help you, because honey, Kara is not going to pick up on subtle cues.”

“The consummate disaster bisexual.”

“So she is into girls?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Most definitely.”

“100%.”

Lena visibly relaxed - this conversation really seemed to be wreaking havoc on her nervous system - and bit her lip. 

“Am I really being that pathetic?”

“Not at all,” Vasquez shook her head. “No, you’re just flirting your ass off. And it’s not bad - your flirting or your ass… um. Respectfully. Ma’am.”

“It’s Lena. And thank you.”

“Lena. You’re not being pathetic. It’s just that Kara…”

“Kara is one of the smartest women I’ve ever met,” Lucy said. “She’s also just as a big of a disaster as her sister.”

“Which means?”

“Which means you need our help.”

Lena sighed, her eyes nothing but vulnerable. “But do you think it even would be worth it? Do you think she even feels… anything for me?”

“Oh, she does,” Lucy nodded, her eyes glistening as plan after plan formed behind them. “She definitely does.”

+++

Two hours later, Lucy leaned back onto the desk Kara was standing at, looking over some surveillance footage with Winn. 

Lucy had, over course, fully briefed Winn over comms.

Alex also knew. As did Maggie.

As did J’onn, though much to his dismay, no one had to tell him with their words.

“Hey Kara,” Lucy said, her voice so deliberately casual that Alex rolled her eyes from all the way across the room. 

“Oh Rao, what could you possibly want?” Kara asked, because she might be oblivious when people liked her, but she certainly wasn’t stupid.

“Want? Me? I don’t want anything. World peace, maybe. Or, galactic peace, that would be nice.”

“Lucy.”

“Kara.”

“I’m busy. The whole Supergirl thing?”

“Right,” Lucy said, and Winn looked over his shoulder to exchange an exasperated glance with Alex, who was pretending very badly to be looking over a situation report. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re so busy, all the time now, you know? Big promotion at CatCo, all the chaos here… Have you had any time, you know… for yourself?”

Kara frowned. “You know I do, Lucy. We have game nights once a week, and you know I have sisters’ nights with Alex -”

“I meant sex, Kara.”

“Oh my God.” Winn let his head bang down on his desk and Alex glared at Vasquez like this was all her fault. Lena, per their plan, was nowhere in ear shot.

“Are you making time for sex? Or, dating, if you don’t want to have sex, because that’s, you know, perfectly fine, if you’re not into that. Or either. That’s okay too, but I was just -”

“I am,” Kara grabbed at Lucy’s wrist and lowered it, like the gesture would also lower Lucy’s voice. “Into those things. Sometimes. With the right… person.”

“Okay, cool. And if I thought I found someone right for you… would you… be interested?”

“Are you setting me up, Lucy? Because for a military lawyer turned secret agent, you’re pretty un-subtle.”

Lucy waved her off. “I’m not going for subtly, Kara. You wouldn’t see subtly if it flirted with you right in the face. Which is exactly the problem.”

Kara went to adjust her glasses before realizing they weren’t on. “What are you talking about?”

“Lena,” Alex mouthed from across the room, and Vasquez hit her on the arm before springing to attention and mouthing an apology. Alex grinned, and Vasquez relaxed.

“It’s like when I liked you, Kara, remember?” Winn blurted. “It was years, you know, and you just really… couldn’t tell.”

“Oh, Winn, are you still - I’m so sorry, it -”

“No, no, James and I are doing great. I love you, Kara, but romantically you’re yesterday’s news -”

“And our incestuous dating pool keeps getting more and more mixed,” Lucy grinned, clapping Winn on the shoulder. “You have excellent taste, my friend.”

“As do you,” Winn gave a little bow from his seat.

“Where is this all going?” Kara asked, dropping her voice to Supergirl level, which was when Vasquez happened to be walking by.

“Supergirl. Ma’am. There’s a situation in the lab the requires your attention. Um. Urgently.”

“Smooth,” Alex whispered as Kara nodded efficiently and practically flew down to the lab.

“What’s the situation? Is everything - oh. Oh. This… doesn’t look like the lab.”

Because it really didn’t. Lucy and Vasquez - with more than a little help from Winn and Alex, while Maggie talked Lena through her excitement and terror in the adjacent room, and a bit of help from J’onn, who really just needed his children to stop thinking so loudly about all of this - had transformed the lab into a romantic dinner for two, complete with candles and a couple bottles of wine on ice (including a Kryptonian version for Kara) and a tablecloth Winn had handstitched for his first home date with James.

There were steaming potstickers and pancakes piled high on the table - because it was Kara Danvers, after all, and Lena had insisted on making sure she had her favorite things - and Lucy had insisted right back that Lena was one of them.

Lena had almost believed her when Alex vehemently agreed.

And then there was Lena. 

She wasn’t in a lab coat and - thank Rao - she wasn’t in any danger. Well, danger of passing out from excited nerves, maybe, but it wasn’t some type of emergency like Kara had thought.

“We had it redone. Just for the evening. Alex gave her consent, don’t worry.”

Kara didn’t look worried. No, that wasn’t the word.

Because Lena was in this red dress, subtle but tight and Rao, Kara had never… she wasn’t… words.

Words were failing her. Language was eluding her. Breath was completely escaping her.

“Lena, what…”

“I’ve been told that I’ve been too subtle in my attempts to flirt with you. So we decided - I decided - that it was time to just… tell you.” She straightened up, at once the woman her mother had trained her to be and every bit her own person. It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.

“Tell me?”

“That I want you. Um. To date you. That you’re my best friend and you’re an enormous dork and your body is almost as beautiful as your heart and Maggie says we should kiss the girls we want to kiss and I -”

But Kara was already across the room, her hands were already on Lena’s waist, her forehead already pressed delicately against hers.

“You want me to kiss you?” Kara asked, in the most heady combination of her Supergirl and Kara voice she’d ever found.

“I do,” Lena whispered, so Kara… Kara did.

“Victory is mine!” Lucy made them both jump, until the combined force of Vasquez, Alex, and Winn dragged her away, leaving Kara and Lena to finally… admit some things to each other.

[wadey-wilson]

CHARACTER CHEAT SHEET: PETER PARKER / SPIDER-MAN

Peter Parker’s abilities, traits, and history can be complicated, so I gathered up all I know from comics and all the website I’ve visited in my life, revisited them, and put them together. I hope that the Marvel fanfictions writers will find this useful, especially that more and more Spider-Man fanfics are written nowadays.

[fun fact about the hyphen between ‘Spider’ and ‘Man’ - the creators of the character used it to differ Spider-Man from Superman.]

Full name: Peter Benjamin Parker

Spider-Man aliases: Spidey, Webhead, Webs, Web-Slinger, Wallcrawler/ Wall-crawler

Date of birth: - comics: Peter is a Libra, making his birthday sometime between September 23rd and October 22nd. - MCU: August 10th, 2001

Characteristics: - gender: male - current height (age 28): 5' 10" / teenage years height: 5' 5" - current weight (age 28): 167 lbs (76 kg) / teenage years weight: 140 lbs (64 kg) - eyes: hazel - hair: brown

Family: - Richard Parker, Mary Parker (parents, killed in a plane crash, spies) - Benjamin Parker (uncle, killed by a thief) - May Parker (aunt); (- Teresa Parker (sister) ) (- William Fitzpatrick (maternal grandfather, killed) )

Address: - grew up on: 20 Ingram Street, Forest Hills, Queens - currently living in: Queens

Core personality traits: - loner - neurotic (anxiety, fear, jealously, loneliness, worry, envy, frustration) - funny and witty, yet respectful (uses humor as defense/coping mechanism and to distract an opponent) - strong willed, brave - nerdy/geeky - shy, socially awkward - caring, loyal, kind, trusting, considerate - always worried, cautious, hopeful

Intelligence: - he graduated Midtown high with the highest scholastic average in the school's history - Octavius stated that Peter's “smarter than all of them” - Peter’s more intelligent than anyone he knows and he doesn't understand why Peter doesn't use all of his intellect - Peter's IQ is 250, making his position in the Highest IQ Ranks of Marvel characters in the top 5 (it's a made up universe, ok)

Equipment:

Costume: - in the early days after the spider bite when peter was making money via wrestling, peter made a costume because a TV producer told him it would sell as an act along with the wrestling - he created a mask to avoid the embarrassment if he lost a match, later it served him to protect his identity and hide his fear during fights

Utility Belt: - a utility belt holding extra clips of webbing (later: Spider-Tracers, Spider-Signal), placed on his waist under the suit (- recently upgraded to hold cartridges of different types of webbing, freeze capsules, new Spider-Tracers as well as a newly upgraded Spider-Signal that has a UV light setting for forensic analysis.) (- in the MCU, the belt was changed into clips on the hip height of the suit)

Web-shooters: - he first created the web-shooters so they can give him the advantage over pro-wrestlers  - they're made of materials that don't trip metal detector alarms (the material changes as the comics go, it's plastic, carbon fiber, and so on) - they're pressure sensitive - work only when peter taps on them twice very quickly with his middle and ring finger. the pressure, though, is really big, given the super strength. in that way, the web-shooters don't go off in a fight or when he shakes someone's hand. it also means that an average human wouldn't be able to use them, given that they need a certain degree of pressure put on the trigger. - over the years Peter's learned to use the web-shooters in more ways than just shooting single strings - he can make a parachute, web up a cast for a broken arm, a shield, and more and more variations he needs at the moment - from marvel.com: “the webbing [is a shear-thinning liquid (virtually solid until a shearing force is applied to it, rendering it fluid) whose exact formula is as yet unknown, but is related to nylon. On contact with air, the long-chain polymer knits and forms an extremely tough, flexible fiber with extraordinary adhesive properties. The web fluid's adhesive quality diminishes rapidly with exposure to air. (Where it does not make contact with air, such as the attachment disk of the web-shooter, it remains very adhesive.) After about one to two hours, certain imbibed esters cause the solid form of the web fluid to dissolve into a powder. Because the fluid almost instantly sublimates from solid to liquid when under shear pressure, and is not adhesive in its anaerobic liquid/solid phase transition point, there is no clogging of the web-shooter's parts." 

Superpowers:

[fun fact no2: he's holding back in every fight and on daily basis - both in the intellect and physical departments.]

Mutations: - he's got harder bones and tougher skin, hard for a syringe to pin through - his organs' tissue is most probably stronger to not get squashed under the pressure of impact forces (such as g-forces while he's swinging)

Strength: - he can bench press up to 10 tons but it was stated that it’s the average strength he uses - he's holding back a lot (supporting the weight of the Daily Bugle building, landing a private jet with  a landing weight between 175,000-215,000 pounds, breaking through Iron Man's armor, even breaking through eight of Doctor Octopus' carbonadium tentacles, lifting a large pile of iron-debris equivalent to the weight of a locomotive approximately 130 tons) - he can jump to a height of several stories in a single bound - he’s strong enough to knock out people with normal durability with as little as a tap to the head - he can throw a human sized and weight object across, like, New York

Speed, agility, reflexes: - his perfect sense of balance is complemented by the generally elastic nature of his body - he can adjust his position by instinct, which enables him to balance himself on virtually any object - he can outrun moving cars - according to the comics, he can run 70-115mph - it was stated that he can go around 120 mph when swinging the fastest he can - he's agile and quick enough that in a combat fight the foe can only see a blur, dodging attacks and bullets the second they’re put in motion - according to the official bios, his heightened reflexes are about 40 times better than the ones of an average human  (with the help of spider-sense, he can dodge a bullet before it’s even shot)

Spider-sense: ( a form of unconscious precognition / extra-sensory perception tuned to danger or threats that might cause him physical or mental injury) - it can make Peter feel off when his loved ones are in danger - it can differ a loved one/a very close friend and a foe (best example: Aunt May once sneaked up on Spider-Man and smashed a vase on his head) - it can help Peter navigate in the dark - it’s a bit off and overwhelmed and Peter doesn’t react to it right when he’s very tired or distracted or when there's too much danger around (like in a big fights with many opponents and weapons) - when it goes off and “buzzes” without imminent and instant danger, Peter may think it’s just gone a bit bonkers, therefore he doesn’t react it much. - it helps with instinctive shooting webs at places that won’t crumble under Peter’s weight - it reduces stuff like the need to look sideways when crossing the street or the need to cover up 100% when Peter changes in an alleyway - Peter was banned from playing poker with F4 because the spider-sense helps him detect when someone is bluffing - sometimes it takes control over peter when there has to be less thinking and more reacting done in a fight - it can hurt peter when it's triggered hard enough

Healing factor: - he can heal from bullet wounds, concussions, broken or sprained bones, and third-degree burns in a matter of days - his body produces less fatigue toxins than ordinary humans which allows him to exert himself for days - he can go a couple of days with no sleep; - he's got a weirdly high tolerance to radiation - he can hold his breath for eight minutes or more

Metabolism: - he’s got a bottomless belly - high metabolism means he needs more food to function, but then again he can go without food because of the healing factor - he can even shrug off some toxins - the toxin resistance makes it harder for someone to knock him out with toxins (such as drugs, for example)

Enhanced senses: - he’s got enhanced sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste - they can be as much of help as of a nightmare. each of his senses was enhanced which means he can hear his neighbors as they roll over in their bed, but going to a concert isn't that fun

Wall-crawling: - according to Spider-Man Vol 1 #26 it’s a mutagenic, cerebellum-wide alteration of his engrams resulting in the ability to mentally control the flux of inter-atomic attraction (electrostatic force) between molecular boundary layers - which basically means electrostatic attraction between Peter’s skin and a solid surface - it’s mentally controlled

Quotes/mottos:

“That's not why you do it. You do it 'cause it's the right thing to do. [...] Now it's my turn. [...] I'm going to give it my all. [...] I'll never quit.”

“With great there must also come great responsibility.”

“Life sucks sometimes... but it's always worth living.“

“Everyone can be saved.”

Other:

- the Spider-Man mask supposedly muffles and changes Peter’s voice enough to be unrecognizable - Peter’s a NY Mets fan - Peter’s witty personality works on every hero’s nerve except for Deadpool (Wolverine one stated that being in company of one of these two is a nightmare, and being in company of both of them is one of the worst things he’s gone through) and Tony - the adhesive skin allows Peter’s mask to stick to his face in case someone tried to pull the mask off - he’s a skilled photographer.

[skiller0dani]

You | Dean Winchester

Summary: You’re a shapeshifter, and you’ve fallen in love with the notorious Dean Winchester. You manage to hide what you are, but what will he do once he finds out? 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Shapeshifter!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drinking, Smut, 

A/N: sorry, been forgetful and lazy. :c ALSO I don’t write smut much. So just bear with me. It might not be long, but I promise I’ll get better at it. 

Masterlist Part 2

You pulled the glass to your lips, okay enough with all this. You think to yourself- your hands are shaking. He’s in the very corner of your left eye, this is the 4th body you’ve tried on him. Still nothing, not even a glance. He focuses on hustling the drunk men out of their money at pool, a cocky poker face covering his expression. He always seemed so sure of what he was doing, of what he wanted- he radiated confidence and control. It was so painfully intoxicating to you. You pulled down your dress a little, your chest popping out more as you prepare to approach him- you turn only to bump into an overweight abdomen with a stained shirt. “Oh sorr-” His hand comes down to your shoulder, his bearded face and stained teeth inches from your ear. “N-no problem sexy,” His voice is sultry and slurred, you feel a retching in your stomach from the smell of his breath. You look down at the ground, your fingers inching towards your knife secured safely in your clutch. “Thanks again,” You say with a tight smile, trying to move past him but his fingers curl around your arm.

You feel your temper rising, and you get ready to sweep the disgusting mans feet out from under him when he’s ripped off you. When your eyes focus on your rescuer your eyes widen- Dean. Your heart is thumping when Dean shoves the man to the ground, “douchebag.” He says, before placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the Bar. You smile shyly when it’s just the two of you standing on the curb, “you okay sweetheart?” He asks, genuine concern in his eyes. You flush, tucking your dark brunette hair behind your ear. “Yeah, thanks Dean-” as soon as you said it, you wanted to slap yourself. This is the closest you’ve gotten to him in weeks and you’ll have to change all over again. His eyebrow lifts, his guard up. “I mean you’re kind of a legend among the hunters.” You quickly save, with a smile. He relaxes a bit upon realizing that you’re a hunter- or rather the hunted pretending to be a hunter. “So you’ve heard of me?” He asks, that cocky smile returning to his face. Oh yeah, you’ve heard of him. Tough as nails, knows Death personally, best friends with an angel. Everyone’s heard of him, kind of puts a big target on his back though. “Where’s that brother of yours?” “Research,” he says with a smile, taking his car keys out of his pocket. 

You follow carefully, “so what’s your story?” Dean asks, reaching to unlock his car. You chuckle, “really long and not important.” He laughs, it’s much easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. “Couldn’t be worse than mine.” Dean jokes, leaning back against his car- you have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. He’s also acutely aware of the fact that you already know his life story, “does that get weird? I mean most of all hunters nowadays know who you are, you’re a hunters version of a celebrity.” You ask, and Dean thinks for a moment. Almost as if he’s never even considered it that way. “Would love it if it came with perks, I’m still always gettin’ shot.” Dean half jokes, half says seriously. “Me too,” You agree, lifting your shirt to reveal the bottom of your stomach, the once smooth skin riddled in bullet wounds. Dean lifts his own shirt to reveal a few matching scars of his own. “My kinda girl,” He smiles and you try to control the raging fire burning in your cheeks and stomach. “Hey you wanna come get a drink with me? I got the best stuff at the bunker,” Dean asks, no hint of nervousness at all. “Bunker?” You ask with a smile, he laughs. “Yeah I’ll explain when we get there.” Dean holds the door open for you, and you graciously sit in the passenger seat and a part of you can’t even believe this is really happening. 

Every hunter and supernatural being alike knows who Dean Winchester is, and he may possibly be the most dangerous man you’ve ever sat in a car with but he doesn’t feel dangerous. He’s kind, and funny, but still guarded and closed off. You want to say something to ease the silence but your brain is fogged with arousal and the smell of his cologne, being so close to him is making you dizzy. “The infamous Impala,” You muse. Dean chuckles, one hand lazily holding the top of the steering wheel. You know it’s going to be hard to fool Dean Winchester, he may as well have been born with a built in bullshit detector. You however have lots of practice, you’re smarter than your Shapeshifter brothers and sisters. They think eliminating the hunters will give them their best chance at survival- you disagree. For one, you hate how monstrous they are, you have absolutely no desire to kill people- you have no issues with killing the ones who do. You’ve also had the brains to figure out that a hunter would never expect a Shapeshifter to be a hunter, immediately gets the radar off your back. “Even my car is famous?” Dean laughs and you can’t help but be addicted to that sound. “She’s almost sexier than you are...” You say, your cheeks heating at such a forward statement come out of your mouth. Dean gives you that look that so many lucky women have gotten in the past. The look you never thought he’d give you. 

The Bunker is not what you were expecting. It was a small metal shack in the middle of a forest. You follow Dean down a set of stairs and when he unlocks the door you see a whole house inside this metal shack. A map room and library are in your view, and you see Sam sitting in the library- eyes skimming over a book. But when you try to enter, you can’t. Dean turns to look at you, his eyebrow quirking up. “You comin’?” You can tell he’s suspicious, you have to think of something now! “Forgot my cell in the car, go pour those drinks you promised me.” You smile and Dean sends you a wink before disappearing down the stairs and around the corner. Panic sets in as you look around the walls of the Bunker, shit. The entire thing is Warded- tears spring in your eyes as you turn to leave. You want to go in after Dean so bad but you can’t get in, and when Dean finds out...you may as well start digging your own grave. “Who are you?” Sam asks from behind you, causing you to jump. “Y/N. My mother is a witch. Put some sort of protection spell on me, I guess you have a ward for that?” You lie with a laugh and Sam’s suspicion drops. He hands you a key and then, suddenly, that magical wall disappears. You feel the silver key burn your hand and you do your best to ignore it as you quickly hand it back to Sam. “Not often my brother picks up a hunter. Or a witch.” Sam says, clearly not trusting you. 

“I’m not a witch, just a hunter. My mother is a witch. I want nothing to do with her.” You lie again, feeling a pang of guilt every time you do. “Not flirting with my brother are you?” Dean teases as he enters the Bunker, having changed his clothes- wearing a dark t-shirt and flannel now. He hands you a glass filled with Whiskey, his gaze fixed on you. Sam awkwardly clears his throat, “wouldn’t dream of it.” You smile, nearly forgetting Sam was even in the room. He excuses himself quickly, leaving you and Dean alone. Dean takes a slow step towards you, his eyes darkening. You drink your Whiskey in one gulp and in an instant Dean lifts you to sit on the table as his lips press against yours. Both your glasses go smashing to the ground, the shattered glass splintering off everywhere. All you can focus on are his hands- God those damn hands. They’re inching up the bottom of your shirt, so his fingers can dance around your hips. Your arms wind around his neck as his body presses firmly against yours, and at first you don’t know what to do with your legs until Dean’s free hands folds them around his hips. He ruts against you, the friction makes you breathe out a moan. 

Dean presses kisses to the corner of your mouth, the wet trail leading down your neck as your nails dig into his back. His hands grab the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head. To be honest- you don’t do this. With anyone, sex means something to you. You’ve only given yourself to one other person before Dean. You know his reputation- hooking up is part of his weekly routine but you were going to let yourself pretend, for one night, that this was more than that. Your breasts were exposed, behind your black lacy bra that caused Dean to let out a low groan. Dean pressed kisses to the swells of your breasts, his hands easily finding the clasp. Before he unclasps it he looks up at you, asking for permission among all the action driven lust. You nod feebly, your eyes lidded as he easily pops open the clasp, his pupils blowing wide at the sight of you. “Can’t let my brother see this,” Dean says, lifting you up- your legs still around his waist. His arms press you against his chest- ensuring his brother can’t get any looks. Intentionally or accidentally. He kicks open his bedroom door and then kicks it shut before dropping you on his bed. “Goddamn,” Dean groans, practically salivating at the sight of you half naked and laying beneath him. 

“You’re too dressed,” You smile- trying to shake off some of your nerves. You were shaking like a leaf and your heart was nearly beating out of your chest- you hoped Dean wouldn’t notice either. Unfortunately Dean can sense your nerves and sheds his shirt with an easy smile, knowing you aren’t the kind of girl he can fuck into the mattress. He doesn’t do this, normally this is the point he’d cut it off- he knows you’re not that kind of girl. But he decides to go gentler, he never does gentle with one night stands. He only does gentle when it means something more to him. Gentle leads to feelings. Feelings lead to loss. Or he’d have to do have that ‘I’m sorry but I can’t have a relationship right now’ conversation- they always lead to tears. But he doesn’t want to cut it off, so he’s going to break his own rule. He’d risk it for you. He slowly lowers over you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before his fingers find the button of your jeans. “May I?” He says, using his words this time. You giggle, your cheeks heating up as you nod nervously. Dean smiles at your red cheeks before popping open the button and pulling down the zipper. He can feel your body trembling, “relax baby. Just you and me.” Dean says softly, his hands curling into the waistband of your jeans. 

Your heart swells when he says ‘baby’ but you try to relax as he pulls your jeans down your legs, revealing your matching lacy panties. It surprises you how this went from rough and desperate, to slow and intimate so quickly. You should stop him you really should, with your current feelings towards him, and Dean being who he is, and you being who you are. This was definitely going to end in heartbreak, tears, and hating yourself for letting it happen. But you couldn’t help but let him continue as he presses soft, gentle kisses up your legs- closer and closer to your clothed center, a damp spot already forming on your panties. Dean’s kisses trail up your hips, your stomach and finally to the valley between your breasts. Tingling took over your entire body, it felt like you were laying on clouds. Sighs and moans fell from your lips when his lips encircled your nipple, gently biting and nipping at it. You started to squirm, the heat between your legs becoming to much to bear. “Dean...” you whimper, “hm?” His eyes flicker up to look at yours, “Need you.” You whine, hating now pathetic and needy you sound. Dean smiles before pulling away from you- you miss his warmth the second he’s gone. 

His hands reach for his belt, and you shake as he undoes it. “You okay with this?” Dean asks, noticing how nervous you are still. You nod again but Dean doesn’t continue removing his jeans, “need words for this one sweetheart.” You swallow thickly, trying to will your nerves away. “Y-yeah. Please Dean,” You half whine, and Dean gives in- he can’t say no to those needy lust blown eyes of yours. Dean takes his time undoing the button and zipper and pulls down his jeans and boxers in one tug. Your eyes widen at his size, how on earth is that going to fit inside you? You feel the panic setting in, what if this is a bad idea? What are you doing? You’re a shapeshifter, about to have sex with Dean Winchester, he’s a hunter. You get ready to stop him when he takes your hand. You didn’t even notice him lean over you again. That thought completely disappears as he lines himself up, and you can tell he’s holding himself back- which you appreciate greatly. “You ready baby?” He asks, his eyes locking with yours. You nod, but he gives you a look and you clear your throat. “Y-yeah.” You force out- your throat incredibly dry. Dean’s forehead presses against yours as he slowly eases himself in, the tightness overwhelming him. It’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to pound into you.

You feel the sting as he stretches you open, he’s much bigger than you thought. Dean groans, his hand still laced with yours. This feels so intimate, but you know it doesn’t mean anything to him- nothing like it means to you. You hold the tears back, preventing them from building in your eyes. Because crying during sex is a big turn on. Dean stays still, fully inside you until you tell him it’s okay to move. You let yourself adjust to him, waiting until the pain subsides before you squeeze his hand, telling him he can move. Dean knows his way around women, you know that. He’s only being gentle because he saw how nervous you were and he’s not a complete asshole. Dean slowly slides out before thrusting back in, you definitely see stars, a moan being pulled from your lips. Dean takes long deep and slow thrusts, his grip on your hand tightening as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear. “Doin’ so good sweetheart,” He presses kisses to your neck, “you feel so good Y/N,” he keeps thrusting, making sure the pace stays slow and deep. Your arms hold him securely, your face in his neck as he continues his slow torture. You’ve been so infatuated with Dean for so long but you didn’t expect this, you didn’t expect to want him to be more than that. When you come, Dean comes too and it feels perfect. But for how long? 

The sun wakes you up the next morning, as does the slight ache in your thighs. You find your body pulled against Dean’s, his arms wrapped around your waist. His face is in your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. You gently unwrap him from you as you scramble for your clothes. You shouldn’t be here- you shouldn’t be here. Last night should not have happened. You remember your shirt and bra are in the library and you curse to yourself as you throw on one of Dean’s shirts. You move to the door, your heart breaking as you look back and see him sleeping in bed- thinking you’re still there next to him. You want to get in bed with him again, but you can’t. In the past you’ve definitely wished you were human but now more than ever. You slowly close the door and creep out to the library, “morning.” You jump and let out a sigh when you see Sam. “Not often women sneak away from Dean, usually the other way around.” Sam comments, sipping at his coffee casually. You quickly grab your clothes, and you’re ready to head out when you notice you’re still wearing Dean’s shirt. “Silver doesn’t normally burn people either,” He says even more casually, causing your blood to turn to ice in your veins. 

You don’t know what to say when Sam looks up at you, and what you didn’t know was that you had tears in your eyes until a tear fell down your cheek. Sam turns the book he’s reading so it faces you, and the page he’s reading says Shapeshifters. “Don’t tell Dean.” You plead, you legs shaking. Sam’s expression softens, “look I don’t know what your story is but if you don’t kill people- then you’re not a monster.” Sam says and your mouth drops open, he isn’t going to kill you? “That would explain why you’re running away from Dean though.” Sam says, with a small smile and you relax. You misjudged Sam, you didn’t expect him to sympathize with you. “I can’t be here, I shouldn’t have come.” You say sadly and before Sam can answer you hear Dean’s door shut. He comes out into the library, a surprised look on his face when he sees you. “Thought you took off.” Dean says, brushing past you. He’s upset. “Dean-” “Anyone hungry?” He says, turning down a hallway and completely ignoring you. “Like I said, not many women run away from Dean.” Sam says, patting you on the shoulder as he follows his brother. 

[bellatriestowritesometimes]

Ever Been In Love?

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Word Count: 1.7k 

A/N: Slightly got carried away and tried basing it loosely on the finale, changing a few things but also keeping some of it the same. To the anon who requested this, I hope I didn’t disappoint you<3

(GIF not mine, credits to creator)

hi could I request a Spencer x reader fic, kind of a redo of the whack finale, but instead of jjs confession, maybe the reader could accidentally confess, like through a lie detector instead of the truth or dare game? idk I’m SORRY if it’s too specific, I just want some angst and fluff, ty in advance💓 love your writing

You took in your surroundings once you felt your heavy eyes open. The last thing you remembered was bombarding a jewellery store in hopes of finding Casey who was the unsub and Melissa who he was going after.

You tried lifting your right hand up to wipe at the bothering, trickling feeling you felt towards your hairline, though that was proving to be difficult as heavy chains occupied both of your wrists and ankles.

You caught your own reflection in a mirrored glass window and saw that it was blood oozing out of a sore cut located on your forehead. Your eyes then took in the odd device that was strapped around your chest and only then you realised that it was a lie detector.

“What the hell is going on?” you shouted, attempting to push yourself out of the seat you were shackled in, but you were overpowered by dizziness and the thumping you felt in your head.

“Spencer? Can anyone hear me?” You raised your voice again as you tried looking for a way out. There was a door on your left of course, but the weight you felt on your limbs made it tediously difficult to try and move.

“Is anyone going to bloody answer me? Where the hell am I? Where is Spencer?” You growled, getting impatient. As far as you remembered you chased after both Casey and Melissa with Spencer. It was the both of you who barged into the jewellery store, but anything after that felt fuzzy.

“You were out for quite some time pretty,” an eager voice came through the intercom,

“Casey? Is that you hiding through a speaker?” You taunted but yelped out in pain once you felt sharp discomfort radiate through your body.

“See, now not only have I got you strapped to a lie detector- which we’re going to have some fun with, you’re also in a chair that allows me to shock you if you lie or in this case piss me off.”

“Do you have Melissa?” You stuttered out, trying to wrap your head around the situation you were in.

Casey didn’t reply but instead you heard a female voice,

“Please just give me back my daughter,” Melissa wailed over the intercom more to Casey than to you.

“Let her go. You’re not getting anywhere with this, its only a matter of time until my team finds us.”

You waited for a reply, but instead were met with the door unlocking.

A shaky Melissa cautiously stepped into the room with a gun in her hand, she warily sat down in the chair opposite you, where a laptop that was connected to the wires around your chest sat.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, your eyes darting between her scared ones and the gun she was gripping. Not giving her a chance to reply you opened your mouth once again, “Do you know where Spencer- my partner is? Is he here? Is he hurt?”

She didn’t respond to your questions but instead whispered, “I’m s-sorry. He’s making me do this, he has my daughter Candice,” she disclosed but you had already figured that part out.

Casey’s voice rang through the intercom once again, “I want to play a little game with you. The same one I played with pretty boy whilst you were out.” He paused,

“The rules are simple. Don’t lie- if you do somebody will end up dead.”

“If you think you’re going to get away with this you’re wrong,” you replied after he was finished.

“I’m not going back to jail,” he objected. Clearly you had struck a nerve.

“You’ve not only kidnapped a child and their mother, but kidnapped two federal agents, so jail is looking like a pretty good place right now.” You were in absolute disbelief on how you hadn’t figured out that Casey had been keeping tabs on the team and the case this whole time. How else could he have planned all of this?

A gunshot over the intercom made you jump, followed by a cry that escaped from Melissa,

“P-Please don’t hurt my baby Candice!”

Panic washed over you, “Okay! Okay! I’ll play just don’t hurt anyone!”

“That’s what I thought.” It was Casey speaking again, “Ever shoot anybody before?”

He had begun his game.

You took a deep breath, “Yes, I have.”

“T-truth.” Melissa clarified, waiting on Casey’s next question.

“You enjoy it?”

“No.” You groaned, lobbing your head back.

A couple of moments passed until a quiet “Lie,” fell from Melissa’s mouth.

And there the familiar jolting pain hit your body. Your hands tightly griped the arms of the chair as your face scrunched in agony.

“I told you not to lie,” Casey was shouting over your screams,

“No-no I’m not lying, okay I’m not lying! The people I shot-I had no choice but I did not enjoy it. I didn’t!” You tried to focus on anything else other than the prickly sensation travelling throughout your body.

You thought that you couldn’t possibly experience any pain that’s worse than this, but that pain was not even half of what Spencer was feeling being forced to watch you on the other side of the mirrored window. He was strapped down just like you were. Rattling the chains trying to get free, unable to listen to you screech out in agony anymore.

“Let her go!” He barked, though the focus wasn’t on him anymore.

“J-just let Candice go okay? Let her and Melissa go,” you tried saying but your mouth was dry, voice hoarse.

“What about Spencer?” Casey was enjoying this too much.

“Let him go too. Nobody else has to get hurt. This isn’t going to change anything- it’ll just make it worse for you. Make it better while you still can,” you tried bargaining with him but he just laughed.

“If I recall correctly, your biggest concern when you woke up was Spencer.”

“Is this classed as one of your questions?”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “It might be leading up to one though.”

“If you’ve hurt him I swear to God-” fury filled you as you tried getting out of the chair once more. The chains clattering against each other but it was no use. You were too weak and in too much pain.

Casey was laughing again, “Ready for my next question?”

You closed your eyes in anticipation.

“Ever been in love?”

“N-“

“Scratch that, I’ve got something better to ask,” Casey interrupted you.

A few minutes passed until he spoke again,

“Are you in love with your partner Spencer?” He asked instead.

Are you? Your self-consciousness asked. You cared about him yes, but never questioned it as anything more, or at least when you did you were quick to convince yourself that you were being irrational and selfish.

“No,” you breathed.

“...Lie.” Melissa delicately murmured hoping Casey wouldn’t hear.

But the raging shock you felt told you otherwise.

“I-yes I am, I don’t know!” You yelled but the pain wouldn’t stop.

“Please no more!” Your body was going numb but felt like it was on fire at the same time.

There was no answer over the intercom. You were close to passing out but the shock stopped just in time. Melissa was now by your chair, trying to get the chains off. You hadn’t heard or even saw the door open, but the room was now flooded with the police and not only was Melissa by you, Tara was there too. They were both telling you to stay still and Rossi had quickly instructed for one of the paramedics to help you.

“I-is Spencer okay? Have you found Candice?”

“Everyone’s fine. Luke has Candice, Spencer is getting looked at by the paramedics,” Rossi assured you.

-

Rossi’s wedding:

You were quick to head to the bar and were enjoying your beverage that was sure to leave a hangover, until a soft voice spoke next to you.

“How are you holding up?”

You turned to face Spencer, “I’m okay,” you smiled. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer repeated. You brought your glass to your lips,

“But I’d feel better if I told you this…” He looked into your eyes silently asking for permission to continue. You set the glass back down, already knowing where the conversation was going.

“When you were, um, with Melissa in that room...with the lie detector…” Spencer was trying to tread lightly.

“I know Spence. Tara told me that JJ and Emily both found you in the room opposite,” you finished for him, not knowing where to look.

“…You know polygraph tests are only 70 to 90% accurate, when a person is genuinely nervous its likely for it to say that they’re lying when really they’re telling the truth- I guess what I’m trying to say is that you could have been telling the truth even if it read as a lie…”

“Are you trying to spare me the embarrassment?” You tried making a joke out of something you didn’t find funny.

“No, not at all. It if makes you feel any better Casey made me take one too.”

“He did?” You questioned and Spencer nodded.

You shifted your body to face the bar instead of Spencer, “I-I think the lie detector might’ve been right,” you said lowly, “I wasn’t telling the truth… It was always too complicated to tell you how I really felt and I never realised it until that day…”

You started to feel really hot- like there was a great, big fire right in front of you, the hall starting to feel like a really cramped room.

“Y/N ask me what my answer was.”

You stayed quite, taking all of Spencer in, “Ask me Y/N,” he repeated softly.

“...What was your answer?”

“That I do,” he smiled, “in fact have feelings for you too. I didn’t need a polygraph test to make me realise, I-I guess I’ve just always had a soft spot for you,” he answered.

You didn’t say anything back, just carried on looking into his hazel eyes with an adoring smile. Spencer took that moment to try and lean forward, into what you thought was a kiss but a voice startled you both,

“I hope the only soft thing you guys are talking about is the cake that they’re about to cut,” Emily whisked by the both of you with a grin plastered across her face.

“Uh, great, we’ll be right there,” you laughed and turned your attention back to Spencer,

“Can we pick this up later?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He smiled, “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

Requests are Open<3

[arcticmaggie]

Donut Shop (Pt. 2)

Y/N sees Harry and prays that he sees her as well.

Part 1

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Just like, a BUNCH of tension leading up to a cliffhanger?? Idk I’m cruel and won’t let Y/N get her fairy tale (not yet, at least) 

A/N: Okay listen this was tough to write because there’s a lot of time lapses and idk how to write the transitions for em so like BARE WITH ME. Also I rlly don’t know how to calm down with the italics and the run on sentences but I feel like it adds to the tension and the ongoing stroke Y/N is having. THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ONE, POSSIBLY THE LAST PART BUT IDK DEPENDS ON IF I WANT THE ENDING TO BE AMBIGUOUS OR KEEP IT GOING INTO AN ACTUAL FULL FANFIC AHHH

-

She's shaking. Her hand is legitimately shaking.

It's been 10 hours since Y/N had almost died from shock of meeting Harry and squabbling with him and she is still having a bit of trouble trying to calm down. Of course, this is now because of a different reason.

She's going to see Harry live in concert in 2 hours! She's going to pretend like as if she hadn't just interacted with him for more than 10 seconds that same morning! She's not going to pull it off!

But really, she knows she can't actually say anything because A) how would she explain to Abby that the man up on stage before them had already touched her in ways that Abby would never have dreamed of being touched (sounds intense, but seriously, how often is it that the man of your dreams touches your shoulder?) and B) Harry had clearly been trying to steer away from gaining attention, so it would kinda be a dick move to go ahead and tell everyone about it.

But Y/N knows herself, so she knows it's going to take everything in her not to blabber about having Harry Styles pay for her ham and cheesy.

Maybe Abby won't react that bad? I mean, she's known Y/N since Midnight Memories came out and they gushed over their mutual love for One Direction online (and they met two years later). And Abby has already interacted with Harry on Twitter, with a reply and a follow. So maybe talking to him in real life won't be much of a scandal to her and she'll understand.

So yeah, Y/N decides with a deep breath and a swipe of her contour brush against her face that she'll tell her best friend about it as soon as she arrives at her house. Which would be in an hour and a half, so Y/N had plenty of time to hyperventilate until the time came.

-

She takes about an hour to finish her makeup after the mini pep talk, even though she was already halfway done. But that was because she spent half that time glaring at her hand to stop shaking. Really, you would think she'd be okay by now. She's a 20 year old girl with a job and her own apartment; this is supposed to mean she's really good at handling stressful situations.

But once she sprays her finishing spray on her face and combs her fingers through her hair, she begins to panic. Surely, she would be able to calm down once more in the 30 minutes she had left, but after 10 of them, she receives a text and she absolutely loses it.

Girlie I got out of work early so I’ll be there in 5 !!! ((:

Jesus Christ she's going to vomit.

She feels like she's about to tell her mom about the time she gave their next door neighbor head during their Easter barbecue in the bathroom.

But it's just Abby, it's just her best friend, and she hears a car pull up and shut off and she gasps for breath.

She doesn't feel her feet dragging her towards the front door, she doesn't feel her hand yank her door open as Abby walks up the path with a small jolt in her step with the sudden sound, and she definitely doesn't feel her mouth open as soon as she lays eyes on her.

“Harry Styles thinks I'm a proper knob.”

Abby immediately furrows her eyebrows together but a smile peeks out from her lips as she lazily pushes Y/N to the side so she can walk in and head straight towards the bedroom.

“How are you this delusional, 2 hours before the show? I would have thought you would start talking funny once we reached the building.” She sets her backpack down on the makeup vanity along with her bag of Jimmy Johns (she always gets hungry when she's doing her makeup for some reason) before turning back around to a silent Y/N who had wordlessly followed behind her.  

Which is weird, Abby thinks, because Y/N really never learns how to shut up unless it's something very important holding her back. So she stares at her while Y/N stares back with a very anxious face and she realizes that whether it's true or not, Y/N meant what she said. And that worries Abby, so she huffs out a breath as she plops down on the vanity bench and pulls out her makeup while munching on a fry.

“Okay, you have the time I use doing my makeup and the car ride to the venue to tell me everything, so please think everything through before telling me.”

And Y/N takes it to heart. She recollects her words for a solid 15 minutes as she's spread out on her bed like an eagle and once she's finished she looks up. She sees Abby already done with her food and applying her highlighter, so she takes 5 more minutes to reorganize everything in her head again for a shortened version.

And so she begins. She spends about 10 minutes debriefing her horrible morning beforehand until Abby packs up her stuff and motions for her to follow her to the car to start their drive over to the Forum, where she spends the remaining half hour (which is more time than the actual minutes spent at the donut shop, ironically) gushing over Harry and his eyes and his lips and his hair and his cocky attitude and his touch and his money and everything that she couldn't process properly during that morning.

Abby stays quiet the entire time, only nodding along when Y/N pauses to see if she's understanding. And she even stays quiet as she parks the car in the designated parking lot and lets Y/N finish her rambling about the “absolutely dirty smirk he had on his face when he asked if it was a threat.”

So when Y/N finally stops and takes a well needed deep breath, she tries her hardest to piece together her conclusion of this situation.

“So, you're telling me, that there is a possibility that you will make eye contact with Harry tonight, and he will recognize you, and he will interact with you?”

And Y/N inhales so sharply because holy fuck, there actually is a chance of that. Their seats are so close to the B-stage and he'll walk up there and he will let his fans touch his hand and he will look at them and he might actually see her.

-

This thought brings the next hour into a blur.

She doesn’t remember standing in the merch line for 20 minutes for the yellow kiwi sweatshirt or walking through the metal detectors or scanning her ticket or buying a hotdog and eating it with extra mustard and relish or walking into the venue and sitting down in her seat with Abby right behind her. She doesn’t even pay attention to Kacey Musgraves and her set, which she didn’t do intentionally (she’s listened to entire repertoire specifically so she could jam out to her music before Harry comes out) but sitting here, 5 feet away from the B-stage has kept her out of touch from the entire world.

Doesn’t even hear the screams of everyone around her when Kacey leaves the stage and the lights turn back on for the 20 minute break in between sets.

It takes Abby giving her a really harsh nudge which Y/N cowers from and winces but she had it coming since she didn’t respond the first two times Abby tried to get her attention.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’ve already met him yet you’re acting worse than me! I’ve never even come close to being in such proximity as him yet you’re the one ready to have a stroke!” Y/N pouts at the scolding but it brings her back into her own body. She knows Abby’s right, she’s already had more of relationship with Harry than most people in this building and she’s worrying about something that surely won’t happen. He’ll be caught up in his singing and talking to the rest of the crowd and he doesn’t even know she’ll be in that vicinity so it’s not like he’ll go out of his own way to look for her. He’s not going to notice her and it’s okay. She’s been fine with this mindset for years now, she can put up with it for many more.

And with this, she lets all her anxiety go. Even when the lights turn down and the Rubik’s cube pops up on screen and the monitor slides down to hide Harry’s entrance, she only screams with excitement and joy. Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we’ll find? is heard before the beginning of Only Angel and Y/N goes wild along with the entire venue as the monitor slides right back up and reveals him and he starts singing and it’s the best moment of her life and she completely forgets about everything before and focuses on now.

Well, until Harry wraps up on Meet Me in the Hallway and heads for the B-stage. All of a sudden, he’s climbing up the stairs with the rest of the band behind him and he uses the short seconds he has to accept the flowers fans are offering and thank them, making full eye contact with each and every one. It would be so easy for Y/N to shout his name, to shout out, “Harry it’s me! Ham and cheese girl!” It’d be so weird and he’s probably already forgotten about what happened and who she is because he’s a busy man and he has more important stuff to remember but she’d at least have a chance of catching his eye again.

But she sees his soft smile as he accepts the bouquet of roses the girl in front gives him and he turns around and sets it down, ushering in the rest of the gang as they all prepare to perform Sweet Creature. And he’s so beautiful, she can’t believe she’s able to be here and see him do what he loves doing and she feels the absolute joy he’s radiating. His eyebrows are furrowed as he tries to concentrate on this next song and he looks so determined to give a great show and she loves it, she loves him. So she shuts her mouth and she watches him with kind eyes as the rest of the fans around him quiet down as well.

And so he sings. First Sweet Creature, then If I Could Fly (Y/N begins to tear up), and then the lovely surprise of Girl Crush (that’s when she starts bawling). He’s always facing her direction throughout all three songs, and he looks up at some points into the crowd, surely only seeing a bunch of phones recording him. Abby was guilty of it as well but Y/N keeps hers in her pocket, relishing in the spotlight hitting only half of his and casting shadows on the other. His eyes always graze too quickly over where she’s seated and it irks her and makes her heart ache because yes she’s calmed down from her fantasy but he gets so close to setting eyes on her yet he doesn’t and it sucks.

She’s suddenly become so hurt by the idea of being unnoticed by him even after all these years of teaching herself not to be. She guesses that’s what happens when you get a small taste of something you can’t ever have.

Girl Crush ends, Harry finally leaves the B-stage to go back to the main stage and finish the rest of the show, and Y/N feels a tug on her heartstrings. She feels that her cheeks are wet and she begins to dab her tears away with the back of her hand, turning to Abby who was still recording Harry but with the turn of Y/N, she whips her phone around to record her instead. Y/N lets out a disgusting yet comical sniff through her nose and whimpers out, “I saw Harry’s sad excuse for a moustache with my own eyes and now I’m crying.”

Abby lets out a snort as she stops recording and turns back to Harry as he swings out his guitar and begins to play Anna, letting Y/N compose herself so she can continue jamming out. And of course, she does, for the next three songs, before he leaves the stage for a quick minute or two just to come back out and play the last three songs of the night (she can never understand why every artist has this in their setlist, and she laughs as Harry explains to the crowd that he doesn’t either).

From the Dining Table is beautiful and sad and The Chain is hardcore and exhilarating and then Harry plays Kiwi and Y/N is crying again because it’s the last song of the show and the last show of the tour and it’s heartbreaking.

And he has the audacity to play it again.

And the audacity to run down to B-stage once more.

He’s completely losing it and the crowd along with him but he’s so exhausted from the run and it’s so obvious that Y/N can’t help but laugh as he pants for breath. He turns towards her area as he brings the mic up to his mouth to continue the next few lines. He sees her.

He locks eyes with her and her amused eyes, raised eyebrows, and cackling laugh and he breaks into the biggest grin. He struggles to begin singing as he laughs along with her, joining in on his hilarious physical state and he adds in the line, “And I’m exhausted, I’m exhausted,” before finally turning away and running back to the mainstage.

Y/N had to take a huge swig of her water bottle and close her eyes for a good moment to make sure she didn’t legitimately pass out.

He finally noticed her. For a mere 4 seconds, he looked at her and he smiled at her and they laughed together. She was okay now. It wasn’t a conversation like she hoped it would be but he still acknowledged her presence and even though he didn’t explicitly say “I know you,” the way his face lit up when they made eye contact was enough for her to believe that he recognized her and she meant something to him.

He finishes off the song and fakes the crowd out as he eggs them on for another take and she hates herself. She hates that for a few minutes that morning she actually got angry with the way he teased her and decided that he was an asshole.

Sure, she can see him stick his tongue out and walk around with a shit eating grin as he hears the crowd go wild for a third rendition of Kiwi, but it doesn’t make him an asshole like she presumed. Just a cocky son of a bitch.

One who begins to sing Kiwi once again with the most tired posture a 24 year old man can have. Yet he continues to rock his body to the music and at one point drops down to his goddamn knees and rocks out on the floor. Yeah, Y/N concludes to herself, he’s hot and he’s fully aware of it.  

The concert ends and Abby is crying (well, everyone in the arena is full of tears), both watching CHASM bow for the final time before exiting the stage. And with that, the lights turn back on and it’s time to leave.

Y/N’s ears are ringing and the loud chatter of the audience comes out muffled to her hearing, and it makes her happy. Concerts have always been the best for her, whether it was the Jonas Brothers back in 2008 or Coldplay back in 2016; they’ve always found a place in her heart. And now she can add this to her list, along with the most memorable ham and cheesy run she’s ever had.

-

They arrive back home after about an hour of driving, though it only took them half of one earlier that day to get to the venue. But I mean, it’s LA traffic, even if it’s just a 20 mile distance. Besides, it gives their ears time to pop and gives them time to destress and let out all their emotions. And it gives Abby time to look through all the videos she took to post the best ones online.

One of them is the video of Y/N and her ugly crying and although Y/N absolutely cringes and begs her not to post it on Twitter, she does so anyway, with the caption “Why is Y/N the biggest mood of the night @username #HarryStylesForum” and Y/N’s annoyed but she’s just finished washing her face and changing into her PJ’s so she falls asleep before she could protest anymore.

-

She stays asleep with no disturbances for a good 7 hours. She was even having a lovely dream about Thanksgiving back at her parents’ home in San Diego and the roasted duck she was having was delicious. But she’s cut off from the mash potatoes and gravy when Abby’s phone goes off for the millionth time and continues to go off about 20 times in a row after she wakes up. She lets out a soft groan with her face smushed into her pillow and she swings her arm around to feel for Abby to wake her up so she has to deal with it as well. She stops once she hears her friend groan and shuffle through the bed sheets and Y/N tries to get comfortable again, already drifting back to sleep. And she’s almost there.

But then a very loud gasp is heard and a hand is slapping her shoulder hard and continuously and Y/N is far from going back to sleep.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He replied to my tweet. Oh my god, Y/N, he replied to my tweet.” Okay, yeah, she’s fully awake now.

Y/N sits up in her bed with wide eyes as she peers over Abby’s shoulder to then squint at the bright screen of her phone, watching notifications flood in as accounts follow her, DM her, retweet her, and reply to her. Abby has her original tweet with the video of Y/N open for her to see before she slowly scrolls down a few centimeters to see Harry Styles’ reply, “I’m proud of this moustache, thank you very much.” And now Y/N is having flashbacks.

This is the second time around that he’s called her out in the last 24 hours and she’s felt her stomach drop for the second time as well. Except this time he’s plastered it all over Twitter for everyone to see. Oh, she can just imagine how many death threats she’s going to receive from the worst of fans that are going to take this banter seriously.

With the thought of it, she glances over to her phone that’s perched on her makeup vanity, that was switched to silent as soon as she set her phone down on it earlier that night. She could see the notification light flicker with a green tint (she has a Samsung, not an iPhone, which she is not ashamed of, by the way) above the phone screen, which means that she does, in fact, have Twitter notifications.

She drops her head back in exasperation and lets out another small groan as she wordlessly gets up to retrieve it, planning to block every single account that gives just a hint of negative attitude towards her choice of words. And she begins to do so, opening up the app and scrolling through the 14 DMs she’s already received in the last 5 minutes. Half of them were what she expected and she quickly blocked and reported them for wasting her time. But the other half were amused and were congratulating her on provoking him enough to defend himself, so she took her time to reply back with kind words and a thanks.

This takes her a while, so she climbs back in bed (she knows Abby won’t be able to sleep much after this so she might as well join her) and lays back down with her phone held up above her head (she lives life on the edge). She’s having a cute conversation with a nice girl named Lily when her phone buzzes once, announcing that she just received another DM. So she finishes up her reply and hopes that the next DM will be nice as well as she taps the back button and gazes to the top of the DM list.

Harry Styles. @Harry_Styles:

Ham and cheese girl :D

Holy mother fuck.

[sanderssides-fics]

Summer Vaca Love (PART/chapter 1)

Ship: Prinxiety AND Logicality Au: just after HS grad summer Warnings: none other than the odd innuendo. Chapter 2 will be out.... eventually Is this too short? ________ "This isn't Funny Logan,  now my head hurts" Anatol groaned as Logan held his favourite sweater captive. "I love staying inside and avoiding human interactions as much as you-" Logan began "Obviously not" Anatol interrupted and grumbled. "Not now, because it is 100.4 degrees and I would prefer to be at the beach, near cool water with it's shoreline breezes and accessible water to cool off in." Logan said loudly as to not be interrupted by the younger of the two, Anatol was only younger by 5 months but both were 18. "But, now this is just a suggestion, but what if we don't. " He mock gasped "Yes it's perfect! We can stay inside, hide from the sun, and pay no mind to the outside world in our Air Conditioned apartment!" Anatol exclaimed happily, Logan frowned and sighed. "Okay Anatol, we will stay home. Just means we have no chance at having Ice Cream with cute guys later" •~• "See? it's not that bad, right?" Logan spoke as he set up their lounge chairs and Anatol set up the sun umbrella.  Anatol just huffed, he had been tricked. There was no Cute boys anywhere at this beach, at least not without some plastic preppy pop girl on his arm. "Sure, we will go with not so bad" Anatol said, trying not to be a killjoy in the not-MCR way. Anatol had always been self concious; Long clothing was his favourite. He was always pale, had a 'Kitten Tummy', his legs were scrawny and his arms weren't the best. Right now, he had nothing but Swim trunks on and it was making him really self concious. Logan didn't notice, he was dressed the same but he was more fit, and he didn't care how others saw him. He pulled out his metal detector from their bags and assembled it. "Okay I'm going to get us some ice cream money, you just Lounge or swim. Have fun for once, okay?" Logan said to Anatol not caring for a response before leaving to scavenge the land for loose change. Anatol wasted no time in laying in the most shaded chair and just watching the beach. Small children played in the sand and water, the majority of teenagers were on their phones or also in the water. Adults tanned and ignored their surroundings. Bantering about everything was surrounding Anatol as he watched. _-_ Logan was distracted as he had his Detectors headphones on and ended up smashing into somebody else, knocking them both over on top of each other. They both started to laugh nervously instead do apologizing before they actually noticed their position and rose off the ground. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching my surroundings" Logan apologized first as he checked his metal detector. He finally checked the man he bumped into out, he was slim but not unhealthily, his hair had some sand in it and his eyes were a bright and peppy brown. The man radiated cheer and childhood despite being grown up. "That's okay! I wasn't either! What's your beep beep stick?" The other asked "I'm Patton, I just moved here with my best friend!" "Logan, pleasure" Logan shook Patton's hand. "Its a metal detector. Helps me find money, I've lived here all my life, for the past few years it's been wuth my best friend. Where's your aforementioned friend?" "Afore..." Patton had trouble repeating the word let alone understanding it. "Your best friend that you talked about earlier, where is he?" Logan corrected himself, unable to help himself from noting that the man was dim in vocabulary but not in soul. -.- "Someone pale as you should be in the sun not the shade" Anatol looked up noticing a rather fit guy above him, glad his sun glasses hid his gazing eyes he was able to check out the attractive dude. "Someone like you should be minding their own business" Anatol replied and the other guy laughed causing his pectorals and abdomen to flew their already fit and tight forms. "Funny, I like that in a guy" the guy moved and laid in the other lounge chair, allowing the sun to glaze over his previously-swimming body. "Confident in yourself, huh? Adorable." Anatol laughed They soon learned the others name, the new boy was named Roman. It only took an hour more for numbers to be exchanged and for Roman to beg them go swimming. "Not happening Disney Prince" Anatol laughed gently, Roman rolled his eyes and noticed his friend approaching with another glasses clad lad. "Anatol, I told you to lay in the sun." "No you said lounge or swim." Anatol retaliated and Logan fixed his glasses. "Fine, this is Patton. We bumped into eachother quite literally" Logan introduced Patton and Anatol solute properly. "Roman you found the best pal of my new friend wow!" Patton laughs and Roman laughs as well and Anatol yawns just wanting to go home. He had enough people today. "Really now? He's pretty pale and boring to have best pals" Roman responded, Anatol visibly flinched and looked down at his pale, boring self. Roman had to be right, why had Logan stuck around so long? Why had Roman started talking to him at all? Logan would be happier with the tanner and more fit guys than him. Anatol ignored anything they said and just walked back to the car, sitting in the scorching car. Half-hoping he'd suffocate. ~•~ Logan glared at Roman. " He's sensitive you know? He's not used to sarcasm from anyone but himself." Logan was cross, and worried. He had never seen Anatol leave so fast. Patton was also upset "He was being nice Roman!  You want me to be your only friend forever? You can't have a boyfriend if you're a meanie" Patton spoke stern but with a childish undertone that made Logan's heart flutter just a little. Roman quickly got up and left to the car Anatol was in. ~•~ Anatol looked up as Roman knocked on the window he was behind, sighing he unlocked the door at Roman's hand signal. Once Roman was in the car he started fanning his face with his hand. "How are you in here and not dying?!" Roman asked, exasperated making Anatol smirk. "I can handle hot things" He said smoothly, moving a little closer to Roman. The heat had gone to his head making him oddly Flirtatious. "Oh really?~" Roman almost purred looking at Anatol. They were inches apart when the front doors of the car opened and Logan and Patton both got in. Explaining that they put the chairs and umbrella in and storage locker and they were all going to Dairy Queen. Roman and Anatol sat uncomfortably far apart, both leant against the doors and windows their respective sides. ~•~ Logan laughed as Patton told a joke, it wasn't the first joke nor would it be the last. The jokes weren't even that funny, just infatuations made you do weird things. They were lain gently on the bed, with arms crossed beneath their heads. Logan had found Patton to be gaining more appeal to him the more they knew eachother. He was peppy and loud and made a lot of puns but he was tolerable and willing to try things he hadn't tried before and that was something Logan admired in Patton.  ~▪~ Roman and Patton were over a lot, Anatol's door was locked a lot more. Keeping everyone out. Crushes scared him, he refused to be close to many people because when you're close you let people know things and those things can be turned against you so fast you wouldn't know it happened until it's over. At the same time, Anatol wished he could let down his guard and let someone in. Allow something more than platonic connections and longing stares. It was a risk, a large risk, a horrid risk.. a risk he wished to take. Anatol unlocked the door, fluffy black blanket wrapped over his shoulders held in one hands at the top of his chest as the rest flowed behind him, delicately flowered across the floor. Anatol slowly left down the hall, hearing his best friend and his infatuate in their room in am engaged conversation of the existence of time without human label. Anatol strode to the living room, finding Roman tucked into one side of the couch, Disney Channel on, he seemed entranced and laid no mind to the disheveled Anatol that crept past him. After obtaining nourishment from the kitchen, left over Chicken Caesar Salad and some Sunny D, Anatol made a daring move and moved to sit directly next to Roman. Using the other's shoulder as a headrest while eating his food and watching Suite Life on deck as well. Paying no mind to the grin Roman gained as Anatol warmed up to and by his presence. Anatol did however notice the arm that slid around his waist, but he only moved closer to Roman in turn; Sharing the black fluffed blanket with Roman. ~•~ Summer vacation was coming to an end soon, the four boys had grown close. Logan and Patton were dating without the label, well for now. Logan had a few dates up his sleeve before he'd ask Patton for the label. They were constantly cuddled or touching. Always holding hands, kissing, cuddling, any time they could have Sensual contact or affection with the other they would attach. Roman and Anatol hadn't been so brave. Roman had made a few moves, asking for dates or complimenting Anatol, but the gestures just moved straight over his head. Anatol could admit he was oblivious, but he wasn't able to tell Roman was in to him. He thought his affection was a lost cause. Roman and Anatol still ended up cuddling during Saturday mornings as Disney Channel was on and they ate left overs from Friday sleep overs. But mornings only lasted till noon and Anatol had his job at one o'clock six days a week. He told people he worked at Hot Topic but truth was he was fired for being antisocial. So instead he was working as a designer at a tattoo parlour, under the table pay. Anatol was very good at tribal and intricate designs, faces and flowers were his issues so those went to his coworker Katie. Their boss Evan paid them 2G a month because the shop was extremely busy and they had to work fast and we'll and they could do that, some customers came in and told what they wanted and said they'd be back on a set date while others wanted it then and there. Right now was a work day, Anatol was working on an intricate Tiger design went to look like it was snarling while holding a rose in a clenched jaw, he had drawn it's jaw first and where it's holding the rose, then Katie drew the rose before handing it back. They only had 3 more hours to finish this drawing before the customer would be back and they also had 20 other drawings that needed attention now. Somehow, they were managing though Anatol was getting very Stressed. Logan and Patton were just wandering a campus of  a university they both were attending the next semester, getting a hold of their surroundings. Patton was there for the therapeutic classes to learn that class for his dream job as a child therapist while Logan was there to become a Teacher. Roman was...bored. Patton was busy, the beach seemed old, the fair was empty of new opportunities, and Anatol was at work. He had just been out browsing small and large stores, waiting for Anatol to text when his shift was over. The summer was almost over and Roman had gotten virtually nowhere with Anatol no matter how much he tried. He planned for a childish date today, going to a Walmart and making a Toilet Paper Isle fort. Anatol was 100% up for the get together, he refused to call these things dates out of fear that things would go to far and he'd do something he'd regret... something that would make Roman leave. ____ @princeyandanxiety @the-sanders-sides @the-prince-and-the-emo @analogically-prinxiety @dan-yuna @softlogic (ask to be tagged)

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

Finding Neverland (5/?)

Summary: History has a funny way of repeating itself. Juliet Jones learns this the hard way as she finds herself thrown decades into the past, and tasked with ensuring that her parents fall in love. (CS movie redux) Notes: Sorry for the delays. My CSBB has been consuming me, and I was out of the country for two weeks. But here’s a new chapter. In short, for our characters, time travel is hard and so are relationships.  Read on AO3. Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] Juliet knows what love is.

She loves her parents. She loves her grandparents. And while she might not especially like her brother, she loves him, as well. She has a gaggle of friends back home in New York, ones she can’t tell about her life in Storybrooke, but ones she loves all the same.

She loves Gideon.

“Love is the most powerful force in any realm.” That’s what she was told growing up. Juliet has seen its power. She’s the product of one such great love.

Maybe that’s why she understands how much it can hurt.

She trails behind a version of her mother who doesn’t know or recognize her, who would rather have her gone. Juliet has tried attempting to pretend it doesn’t hurt, and now more than ever she wants a hug from the woman who barely wants to give her the time of day.

“She doesn’t know you from Adam,” Gideon attempts to assure her. But he fails, his words rankling her. His reasoning is logical, sure, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Look, you have no idea how I’m feeling right now.” She’s being unfair. Juliet recognizes this. It doesn’t stop her from lashing out, however. She’s the one whose mother wishes she were gone, whose loved ones look at her with mild interest at best, with fear at worst.

“All I am saying is that she doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know you, J.”

“It would actually make me feel a hundred percent better if you would just stop.” He reaches out for her hand, but she pulls away. Gideon looks both hurt and annoyed, but since she’s feeling much of the same, she doesn’t feel like soothing him when she was the one to be upset first.

“I’m trying to be supportive,” he grinds out. They’ve long since stopped following the group. “Which is more than you can say me.”

“What is that supposed mean?” she asks, blindsided.

“That life isn’t ‘The Juliet Show’.”

 She is about to argue further, but then her father calls out to them. Similar to her mother, his voice holds none of his usual warmth. “If you keep dallying behind, you’re liable to get yourselves lost, or worse, caught by the Lost Boys. Keep up.”

Juliet frowns and pushes herself ahead.

God, she hates Neverland.

-/-

Emma watches the fire crackle in the front of her, desperately trying to ignore the heat of Hook by her side and the general tension in the camp. She had thought that finding Tinkerbelle would help, but it appears that her plan was for naught, the fairy without both powers and pixie dust.

So now they all sit around the fire, trying to come up with a plan. Well, rather, Emma is. Her parents are drifting in and out of sleep, and Tinkerbelle appears to be in a whisper argument with Regina over something. And Hook seems rather preoccupied with a coconut.

“We shouldn’t be sitting around. We should be doing something,” she hisses to him. Hook shrugs, and hands her a punctured coconut. 

“Our party is exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Were we to stage an attack on Pan’s camp, we’d be completely useless, and likely find ourselves killed,” Hook replies matter-of-factly.

“I just can’t sit here and do nothing while Henry is out there.”

“Avoiding running yourself ragged is doing something to save Henry, love,” Hook tells her softly. “But if you feel so compelled to not simply sit around and converse with me, maybe you should with her.”

Juliet is sitting directly opposite from them on the other side of the fire. In direct contrast to her earlier cheerfulness, she radiates an air of sadness. Her chin rests on her knees and her arms are wrapped around her calves. In the flickering of the fire’s light, it almost looks as if Emma is staring at a younger version of herself.

“She’s convinced you hate her,” Hook supplies and he picks up another coconut. He deftly punctures it with his hook. “I overheard her and her paramour discussing your feelings. She’s quite upset by it.”

“Oh,” Emma sighs, feeling a surge of guilt. “I don’t. I just yelled at her maybe once. I don’t know her well enough to even hate her.”

“Well, she appears convinced of your distaste,” Hook replies. He hands her the coconut and pointedly looks at the girl. “Like you, she has powerful magic. It might be in Henry’s best interest to ensure she remains on our side and happy.”

“She doesn’t look like someone who would work for Pan.”

“Perhaps not,” Hook says darkly, “but it never hurts to play these things safe.”

Emma looks down at the coconuts in her hands, and sighs. She’s never been one for these types of conversations, but Hook is right, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it. She glares the pirate as she pushes herself up. “If this doesn’t go well, I’m blaming you.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

“Not your sweetheart.” She rolls her eyes, ever annoyed at his light flirtation, and makes her way toward Juliet. Juliet is without Romeo, a rare sight. Normally, the couple is joined at the hip, but tonight he is asleep while his girlfriend sits awake. When Emma reaches her, the young woman doesn’t acknowledge her. 

“Hello,” Emma says finally. Feeling somewhat stupid, and silently cursing Hook, she offers Juliet a coconut. “You can have this. I promise it’s not poisoned.” 

Juliet looks at her strangely, but takes the gift. She takes a drink from it, and frowns. “God, this tastes awful.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all we’ve got,” Emma snaps, her annoyance at Juliet returning. Not for the first time, Emma wonders about this woman’s life, and just what exactly she and her boyfriend had been running from. It’s obvious Juliet comes from some sort of privilege. It’s evident in the way she talks and carries herself, like she’s never had to worry about anything. It’s not something to which Emma can easily relate, but Hook’s reminder rings in her ears. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for offering to help out with Henry.” 

“Well, it’s either help you and maybe get off this island or stay here and for sure die. It wasn’t a difficult decision,” Juliet replies. She stays looking at the fire, and Emma glances back to Hook. He nods encouragingly, and Emma wants to punch that stupid smile off of his face.

“But, still, we’re strangers.”

Juliet looks up at her then, her expression startlingly sad. “Yeah, strangers. My mom used to tell me to stay away from strangers.”

“Sounds like a smart mom,” Emma agrees, and Juliet laughs. It doesn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve told Henry the same thing, but life-or-death situations mean rules can be broken.”

“I guess that’s right,” Juliet sighs. She takes a drink from the coconut, and grimaces again.

“Have you never had a coconut before?” Emma asks suddenly, trying to do the bonding thing Hook had encouraged her to do. She’s not sure what realm Juliet is from – how strange is it that she’s even thinking about people being from different realms? – but it could be that has never seen or tasted a coconut. Emma certainly had chimera before.

“Um. I’ve had a coconut,” Juliet answers with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just not a fan of coconut water, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“So why are you talking to me?” Juliet asks suddenly, catching Emma off-guard. She quirks an eyebrow, reminding Emma so much of Hook that it’s absurd. “Earlier today, you basically told me to get lost, and now you want to be buddy-buddy over coconuts.”

“Maybe I realized I made a mistake,” Emma replies. It’s not the entire truth. Hook had basically ushered her over here, coconut in tow, but it’s not like Juliet has a super secret lie detector.

“Look, stranger danger or not, we’re not going to bail on your son because you don’t like me. So don’t worry.”

 It would be easy to walk away. So, so easy. Juliet wants to her go, and Emma certainly wants to step away. But she hears Hook’s voice in her ear encouraging her to stay and make things right, and Henry is on the line so – 

“Listen, I know I wasn’t being fair to you earlier, and that you were just trying to help, but you have to understand a lot is going on right now,” Emma explains, knowing she is rambling somewhat. Juliet watches her, clearly listening, but says nothing. “But, that was wrong of me. As you said, we don’t know one another. We’re strangers. So tell me something, about you, your home, or whatever.”

“Really?”

“Um. Yeah.” Emma’s never been good with the whole bonding thing. Honestly, she still thinks her friendship with Mary Margaret had to have been a fluke, or destiny fucking with things so they had like one another due to the mother-daughter thing. Emma makes a move to sit down next to Juliet, feeling silly. But it’s what Mary Margaret would do. God, this better be worth it.

“Okay,” Juliet eyes her dubiously. “I love my job, but I am tempted to leave it because it pays very little. I’m worried about my cat since we’re stuck here and he’s back home. And my boyfriend and I are sort of in a fight, which is sort of my fault. Also, I really, really hate camping.”

It’s a lot to unpack, but judging by the way Juliet ticks off the various points, some are things she’s been holding in for quite awhile. Emma knows she should say something, but she’s unsure about what to comment on. So, she does what Mary Margaret would do. “What are you and Romeo fighting about?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend,” Emma replies. Juliet’s confusion takes her off-guard, but she attributes it to her lack of rest.

“Oh, yeah, him.” Again, something feels off about the way Juliet is talking, but Emma can’t exactly point out why. “Really, I don’t even know, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I could get Hook’s rum if you’d like a shot,” Emma suggests, gesturing to her pirate friend (maybe?) who is making work on his own coconut.

Juliet shakes her head. “As much as I want to take you up on that offer – trust me, I do – it’s best if I don’t. Clear head, full heart, can’t lose or whatever.”

There’s something familiar, yet completely off by what Juliet is saying, but Emma can’t pinpoint why. Maybe she’s also too tired. Juliet must notice it too, because she then says, “You should sleep. Gotta be well-rested fight Pan or whatever, right?” 

“Right,” Emma says. “You get some sleep too, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Juliet says. She means to be sarcastic, but it comes out fonder than Emma expects. Then again, nothing she’s expected these days turns out to be correct.

Hook gives her an encouraging smile when she returns. Emma does her best to ignore the swoop in her belly. That’s also something she can’t deal with right now.

Despite her exhaustion, Emma doesn’t sleep easy that night. The cries of the lost boys haunt her. Judging by the tossing and turning on the other side of the camp, Emma supposes she’s not the only one. Rolling over, she surreptitiously tries to see who might be awake. In the dark of the night, she can see the shadow of Romeo sitting up, likely giving up on sleep. 

She rolls away, unwilling to engage or reach out. She doubts he would want her to anyway. She might not completely understand Juliet, be she knows something about being lost. It’s an easier cross to bear alone. It’s better that way. 

-/-

The morning is a bustle of arguments about escape plans. Juliet and Gideon sit on the sidelines of the debate between her family debate, listening but not speaking. Not even to one another.

They've fought before. No one is in a relationship for three years without there being a few arguments. Right now, they're in the "giving space" part of their fight cycle. Normally it works, there is a cool down period, one of them makes the first apology, the other follows, and then make up sex occurs.

As they are in Neverland, Juliet doubts that any make up sex will happen once they do apologize. Her family is around, and she really doesn't ever want a repeat of the "Library Incident" from last Christmas. It's crazy how actually being caught can kill one's exhibitionist tendencies. 

She wonders what Gideon is thinking right now. She feels marginally guilty about turning the whole adventure into "The Juliet Show" as he so eloquently put it. It's not her fault that they landed in Neverland, and are stuck with her family. It's not her fault this this totally sucks. If it were his family here, she would understand.

She sighs audibly, but he doesn't register her. Juliet knows this fight is only a minor blip. You don't buy a ring for someone with whom you have major issues. Right?

That's what she had wanted to talk to her mother about last night, and pretty much every night since she stumbled upon it in his suitcase. But then there was the whole affair with the Lost Boy and Cassidy, and the time really hadn't felt right. And now, well, Juliet couldn't imagine confessing to her mother that her boyfriend has a ring, and only being met with a blank stare. 

Day-to-day interactions are hard enough. She knows that monumental conversations would kill her.

She knows not to tell Gideon that she's discovered his secret. She's heard enough to know what kind of horror story that could be, but to be able to share it would be nice.

A lot of things these days would be nice. Her bed, good food, Pinot curled up on her chest, and her mom looking at her with love. The latter would be best of all. 

"Alright, you two, we're leaving. Let's go," her mother's past self says. 

Juliet doesn't know where they're going. She had barely been listening to the debate about exit strategy. Not that it matters what she does and does not know. They sail away from the island using Pan's shadow. That's what Henry's book says, not that Juliet can tell any of them that. 

Instead of inquiring, Juliet chooses to follow. She knows nothing about the geography of the island -- there's a cave that looks like a skull, her uncle died somewhere, and mermaids have a lagoon -- but she wouldn't be able to place them on the map. It's better this way, anyway. The fewer questions she asks, the less likely it will be to draw attention. 

Gideon follows behind her. He's still quiet, and it's almost as if he's dragging behind. Something feels off, but Juliet attributes it to their fight. She considers asking him what's up, but she doesn't want to be the first one who breaks. He would tell her if something what truly wrong, anyway. 

After what feels like forever, they end up at a cave. They fan out through area. It's obvious someone has lived here before. Drawing are on the walls, and her parents are moving a what looks to be a cot.

"Where are we?" Juliet asks, suddenly feeling stupid for not listening. 

"Neal's cave." Her grandfather says. He looks at her like she's stupid, like should know.

"Oh," she replies. Neal. The guy her uncle is named after. Henry's dad. Except she shouldn't know who he is, so she asks, "Who's Neal?" to play along.

"Henry's dad," her grandmother answers. She speaks in a soft, hushed tone, her eyes darting to Emma when she speaks. "He died not too long ago."

To Juliet, Henry's father died a very long time ago. She's only seen him in pictures. She honestly knows very little about him, not that she's cared to ask.

What she does know is that he's not dead at this very moment. He's here trying to rescue Henry form his evil grandfather. It's always sort of amused her that Henry's grandfather was Peter Pan. Same with Gideon.

"Did you ever think J.M. Barrie would have guessed that Peter Pan's grandson and Captain Hook's daughter would get together," she had once joked.

And suddenly it hits her.

Peter Pan is Gideon's grandfather. Gideon's grandfather is on the island. So is brother. So is his father. 

She spins around, frantically looking for her boyfriend. He is nowhere to be found. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Legends Recap

Because while I was determined not to (I was three episodes behind!), sometimes a girl's just got to scream into the void: "HOW DO THESE WRITERS KEEP THEIR JOBS?"

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Raiders of the Lost Art: Wow, I don’t care about Rip. Also, you had the fucking spear of destiny through all of season 1? Fucking incompetent.

I’ve seen the Mick scene before. *hugs Mick*

…Nate is such an annoying frat boy. 3AM blasting bad music? In a small space near other people’s sleeping quarters? And just “oh, yeah, sorry, I needed to do a thing” as an explanation? We have a name for those people: assholes.

Again: Indiana Jones is an archeologist. Not a historian.

“Anyone would have made the call to save Grey!” “Would Rip?” Answer: no, because Rip doesn’t care about the team. Remember how he did that repeatedly last season?  Why is this show trying to push Sara’s weird (and out of nowhere) crush on Rip?

I have literally no interest in Rip’s issues. Zero.

Fear of giant toads, somehow related to Mick’s mother (reference to “mommy talk”). Dragon!Mick confirmed?

Mick’s expression of “you’ve got to be kidding me” is going to be the highlight of this episode, I can tell.

I’m pleased they remember that Mick can knock someone out without harming them. I’m less pleased that they seem to have forgotten that Sara can do the same?

“Oh now, our way out is block! Pity we didn’t bring Jax, so that we could literally Firestorm fly our way out! That would have made sense, but cost precious CGI money!”

Mick’s tradition of carrying people continues.

Oh god, this episode’s only halfway over. Make it stop.

Goody, Stein insulting Mick to his face. Also, emotional problems leading to hallucinations are a serious problem??? Even if it’s just “emotions”, there are hallucinations?

NOTE TO AUDIENCE: Not having 4 PhDs or a history degree = total inability to read words!

NOTE TO AUDIENCE: Not being an inventor or a historian makes you useless!

Also, apparently getting mugged once can cause a change of career after dropping money and time into it.

Why did they move the chair into Mick’s room? HOW did they? (Why were we, the audience, deprived of the glorious scene of Mick and Stein hauling it down the hallway)

Also, Mick has been interpreting Stein’s academic technobabble without a problem the whole episode, and yet, everyone on board thinks he’s stupid…

I’m incredibly pissed at this episode for raising hopes of Len and then destroying them. Both for Mick, and for the audience.

I’m also not here for the Rip/Sara thing. Also the fact that this show seems to assume people will be super disbelieving despite being on a goddamn spaceship.

Oh, my bby! Mick’s head is literally SLICED OPEN in that scene! WTF?

I get all the Star Wars references, I just…don’t care…

George Lucas is holding the spear of destiny, which makes him a great director…or, at least, married to one. He’s a good tech guy, at least.

In which the Guy Who Has Never Been In A Fight Decides Not To Run From Evil Bad Guys Because…Plot.

Mick’s little smile when he says “ghost” and the heartbreak after it is just…unnecessary. Also, wtf, Stein, hallucinations are not a usual response to grief, okay?

Ugh.

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Legion of Doom:

Damien’s intro is more interesting than 95% of the normal Legends’.

Okay, why is Merlyn having Feelings about Darkh dying? (Also, wouldn’t removing Darkh from the timeline mean that that timeline no longer happens? Why do G. Lucas’ ~~feelings~~ about filmmaking have an immediate impact but literally removing the person who doesn’t go on to do any of the shit he later does not?)

Fucking writers. This could be such a good show if they cared even a LITTLE.

I do enjoy the sheer bitchiness of the bad guys. Pity they’re Nazis. Also, do we need all the scenes of tortures?

ALSO: why the hell would his daughter help with a mystical artifact? Like, I see that she does because of plot, but couldn't they have put any effort into explaining why her specialty is required? Also, why does she have a radiation detector in her pocket when she goes to get coffee?

Bad guys: bitch-bitch-bitch.

Bad guys: bitch about each other.

Bad guys: yet MORE bitching!

Bad guys: worst bank robbers ever?

Mick’s difficulty thinking of the word is adorable. And yeah, she deserved to know. Everyone acting super weird about her, and she doesn’t know why? She would have wanted to know. It was clearly deliberate, too (I love how he goes to “asphyxiation”!)

Bad guys: going back to bitching. With swords! (See, I’d like them, but: Nazis.)

Stein is moping because Mick “spilled the beans” on a secret he shouldn’t be keeping. So sad.

Both sides figure out Eobard, finally. Also, can’t Eo just phase out through the wall?

Speedster: not…use…speed…force? I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand?

Eo’s terror face is hilarious. Also, did everyone just forget about phasing?

Stein’s family drama, yeah, yeah.  Stein: Can’t you stay? Lily: No, the budget can’t afford another regular. I mean, I have protein-folding to be doing instead of LITERAL time travel with future science! Because that’s totally how normal people/scientists make decisions!

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Turncoat:

Mick’s intro is lovely.

Interesting mention about “time travel” being fun – I assume not all the memories are back in place. That, or being a Time Master is even more dull than I’d previously imagined.

I’m in for Gideon killing everybody! *notes down fic idea*

Go Mick! Use your skills! (Ray deserves all the arm twisting.)

Nate and Amaya – boring. And seriously, with the ‘falling into his arms’ thing?

Good lord, someone actually makes a plan that includes the line “and then if there’s trouble, Firestorm”? I thought I’d never see the day.

(Ray should totally go as a toy. And Ray, stop making faces at Mick – you’ve been a dick to him all season, only fair he gets some licks back in.)

“Oh you’re married to a black woman! Don’t you know we were racist back then!” says the man in late 18th century New Jersey, where rich black women could still vote. (No, really, in a handful of states black women could vote as long as they owned property. This was one of the rights that was lost when the US got itself a federal government. But the past was always racist! because we didn't make this joke enough when Kendra and Ray were dating!)

Ray’s “Mer-ry Christmas!” is amusing.

Mick identifies the problem faster than anyone else, as usual. Mick disapproves of Rip’s behavior – and Rip’s attempt to compare the two of them. For shame, Rip; as usual, thinking the worst of Mick.

“And Rory.” “That was implied.” Yeah, sure.  At least Jax gets next Captain after Sara goes! First time I’ve seen any reference to Jax’s leadership skills in…the entire series…

Really. Twice. That doesn’t make it funny.

“I’ll bet a hundred yous you’re wrong” = Mick is the best. Georgie isn’t wrong about there being rules of war, but Mick is still the best.

Jax. Jax. I love you, but there is a DIFFERENCE between “wow, I’m in charge of a handful of people and need to make decisions” and “I’m going to do a potentially life threatening activity involving literally digging into my friend’s stomach (which is filled with organs that, if nicked, could cause sepsis and death) with a knife, and I’m going to do it without a guide or any experience”. Stein wins this one hands down.

Okay, let me just be clear: somehow, Amaya has been on this ship for months and months and never heard the term ‘dating’ and is instead using ‘courting’, which is the most formal of formal terms used in the past. Because obviously a man – to use old-fashiony language like this show wants to – “called on” or “stepped out with” a woman a few times before officially declaring a courtship. Because the past didn’t have one-night stands, because people only developed libidos around the time of the internet. SERIOUSLY SHOW? People have been fucking for fun since forever. The whole “sexual revolution” thing was a revolution because women could have sex for fun WITHOUT RISK OF PREGNANCY.

Before then, they still had sex, they used what contraceptives they had and hoped for the best. There’s a reason shotgun weddings were a thing. And why

And I was told they went with the “huddling for warming -> sex” thing, I knew it was coming, it’s just…disappointing. Boring.

Jax Home Alone looks like it’s going to be fun.

Rip – the most ahistorical haircut, or the most ahistorical haircut? Ugly, too.

Georgie: “Don’t punish Mick! He’s not guilty!” Mick: “You bet your ass I am! Possibly not at the moment, but of many other things! And also, just generally speaking!”

Still bored with Nate/Amaya.

Jax Home Alone is not anywhere near as fun as I was hoping. Boo.

Mick: So I’m getting you out of here. George: No. Mick: *tries insults* *it’s not very effective* George: *stirring speech* Mick: *stirring speech* *it’s super-effective!* George: …

“Oh, no, what about George Washington and Rory!” says the person happily having sex and napping instead literally five minutes before.

Awwwww, Ratigan! That is some terrible CGI.

Why are they selling the Rip/Sara? It’s icky. (This is me: totally believing that Sara’s dead. Really. Totally. Even for five seconds.)

First, the historical critique: they shouldn’t ALL be standing around at a hanging with primed guns, that’s a recipe for disaster.

Second: I don’t even care this is glorious. Mick saves everyone! Mick tackles four people! George uses his superior height!

Also, if Mick convinced him early in the evening, then they literally spent all night talking.

First instance of Georgie-boy! (though poor Mick is still suicidal, oh dear)

George: …yeah, Americans out, stage left, pursued by bear.

Jax, Jax, baby, just shoot him in the kneecap. What the hell is with these heroes? Sara’s back and decides to use Christmas against everyone because…no, I have no idea why. Is it just me or does it feel like these episodes are massively out of order?

Awwww, Georgie and Mick drinking together <3 Mick and the criminal justice system! And then they hug! Mick finally has a good friend!

“Rebel spirit, steadfastness, crass yet effective use of language, you’re the best of what our new nation can be” – Mick is now officially embarrassed and hiding. Man, if I hadn’t already written that Barry/Mick fic, I would now.

Sara and Jax bro-ship is perfectly okay. More of that.

Mick in a hat! Mick with his new rat! <3 Mick kissing his new rat!

“We have nothing to celebrate – including Mick getting a statute!” – why, guys, why?

(Mick’s face of “yeah I still got nothing” whenever the statute is mentioned is adorable)

“Because the League may have everything – smarts, beauty, cunning, charisma…wait, where was I going with this?”