#Anyway. It's funny to think about but. being fair to her she did have a considerable fear of clowns and the like--

[featherymainffins]

Why you all got ok mothers leave some for the rest of us

[astrito]

It's funny to think of Mercer being inmature and Kira being the opposite, when in retrospect it is very much the other way around.

[seraphicloves]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: he isn't yours so why do you get so jealous?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: jealously, you're possessive but sal likes it, he doesn't believe anyone would love him :( cringy confession; reader is a dork i fear (she is me)

⊱✿⊰ notes: i heard this song and had this daydream and was like dang this would be a fire fanfic so here we are. ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE SALLY FACE FANS LIKE I WRITE FOR IT GUYS NOTICE ME ahem anyway

⊱✿⊰ taglist: @fashionablysouly @kozumesphone

You had a secret: you were excruciatingly and agonizingly in love with your best friend, Sal Fisher. Okay so maybe it wasn't a secret to anyone except for Sal himself but it was still something you would rather die before Sal found out. He definitely didn't see you that way and he would probably reject you immediately if he found out. So it was safer to just not say anything.

He didn't need to know about the nights spent screaming into your pillow or crying in Ashley's arms over how sickeningly giddy his voice made you. He didn't need to know how easily he made your heart beat like you ran a marathon or how easily he made you feel like your head was in the clouds.

However that led to dilemmas such as the one you found yourself in currently. You were probably the most aware of Sal'a attractive but unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice it. So it was common as was happening right then, to find a girl start talking his ear off obviously trying to flirt with him.

"You're so funny, Sallyy," The girl giggled, sitting across from Sal at the cafeteria table. You tried to stop your glare from settling into your face but it was far too late, jealousy was disease that affected you quickly and viciously.

She was beautiful with tanned skin and soft lips, she was perfect and far more in the league of someone as incredible of Sal. But no, she doesn't deserve Sal. She doesn't know him like you do, she doesn't ache in her bones at the thought of being near him. She can't have him.

"You might as well leave." Larry commented to her, seeming far to amused as he glanced at you. You felt self conscious and tried to relax your face from the deadly look you had been casting on that girl. He continued, "[Name] is far too jealous to let you stay for much longer."

Murder should be legal, you quickly decided as you shot a look at Larry that made him well aware he would not be living for much longer. Why the hell would he say that? In front of Sal too?

Did he want you to die of heartbreak? Surely Larry fucking Johnson was praying on your downfall because there is no other logical reason for him to have done that. Unless he has a death wish.

"[Name] isn't dating Sal. Isn't that right, honey?" The girl replied, placing her hand over top Sal'`. That was when you snapped; how dare she touch Sal?

Before you could fully process thinking you grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from Sal. You looked at her, trying to cool the inferno of anger in your gaze as you said, "That boy is mine. Touch him again and I break all of your bones."

The girl let out a whimper and quickly rushed away, leaving a majority of the lunch room's eyes on you. You sunk into your seat, far too afraid to glance at the blue haired boy beside you. You were beyond embarrassed by your possessiveness, who were you to say he was yours?

Larry and Ashley were absolutely cackling, way too amused to see this side of you publicly outed to the boy you loved with your entire soul. Sal turned to look at you, his prosthetic hiding any hint of emotion you could have gotten.

"I'm yours?" He asked, his voice making your tummy rumble and roll. Even his voice was attractive, it physically wasn't fair to exist beside him and not have him to kiss and hold.

"Have you really not noticed, Sally?" Ashley asked, nudging you on the shoulder. You bit the inside of your cheek, preferring none of this to happen. Why did your feelings have to come out this way?

Sal made a confused noise but you grabbed his arm, and said, "Can I talk to you alone?" He nodded and let you lead him away from the lingering stares, into the hallway which was far more empty.

"What's up with you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt his gaze on your face, making it warm even more. Although that didn't seem quite possible with how feverish every inch of your skin felt. You looked down at your shoes, trying to stall the confession.

"I don't want you dating anyone." You said finally, jealously arising yet again as you remember that girl flirting with Sal. He let out a huff of confusion, his eyes still directly on you. Crap, you had to explain more.

"Seeing those girls flirt with you or hearing them make those vile comments about the things they want to do to you. It makes me so angry, it isn't fair. I don't want you dating anyone except for me. I want you to be my boyfriend." You ranted, feeling your blood boil as you remember all the times you had gotten jealous.

When Sal froze, you realized what you said. Oh no no no, he is going to reject you and never talk to you again. If only there was a self destruct button on your body you could press in this moment.

He kept staring at you, making you wish you could see beneath his mask to have a guess at how he was feeling. How disgusted he might be at your ridiculous feelings for him.

"why do you like....me?" He finally asked, sounding shocked that you could have feelings for him. Your gaze shot back up to meet his, and you saw the surprise (and dare you say, happiness?) in his eye.

"Why wouldn't I like you, Sal? You're so amazing and god I love you so much I think I've gone insane." You replied, feeling almost breathless with this string of honesty. His body finally relaxed and you could almost sense the smile beneath his mask.

"I love you too, [Name.]" Sal replies quietly, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You felt your lips part with surprise, not believing your ears. Sal must have noticed your shock because he laughed and leaned closer, interlacing your hand with his deliciously cold fingers.

"Yes, you can be my boyfriend." You said, rambling slightly. You must've been injected with a dose of caffeine because you kissed his mask right where his lips lay under. Then you ran away, giggling like a lunatic. You stopped in a hallway, feeling flushed and faint and giddy and ridiculous.

Finally that boy truly was yours.

[fairsexynasty]

ˏ🔪ˋ°•*⁀➷･ GHOST MOUTH — chapter one: get out and get into heaven

.｡🗡️*⋆⍋*🃏*｡ spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: a new inhabitant? tenant? roommate? you're still not sure how this works. but there's someone new living in your apartment: spencer reid. how is he going to react to a ghost?

warnings: humor, platonic fluff, angst, drug usage, addiction...

a/n: love a good female character who literally haunts the narrative... but it's your narrative... so are you living it...? but you're dead....? like and reblog if you enjoy and don't forget, requests are open!

word count: 4.2k

JUNE 23, 2005.

I don’t remember buying this apartment. Or decorating it. Or signing the lease, for that matter. But apparently, I lived here.

Now, I just haunt it.

It’s strange, being stuck in a place you’re supposed to know but don’t. Like waking up in someone else’s skin. The furniture’s vaguely familiar—like seeing an actor who played a minor role in a movie you liked once—but the memories aren’t there to fill in the gaps.

Rachel makes it easier. Most days, anyway. She’s perched on the couch tonight, wine glass in hand, a throw blanket draped over her like a cape. “Okay, so get this,” she says, her voice dipping conspiratorially. “He texts me every morning. Like, without fail. Good morning, good night—it’s adorable.”

I hover near the window, watching her face light up as she gushes about this guy, Theo. He’s the latest in a string of hopefuls, but this one seems different. Genuine. “You think he’s the real deal?” I ask, trying not to sound like I’m bracing for impact.

“I do.” Rachel practically glows. “He’s thoughtful. Funny. And he actually listens. Can you believe it?”

I can’t. Or maybe I don’t want to. If she finds her happily-ever-after, where does that leave me?

"So, yeah, he's great," Rachel was saying, voice warm and confident. She was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked under her as she swirled the wine in her glass. "I don't know, it's like I finally found someone who gets it, you know?"

I watched her, biting back the sharp tug of something—jealousy? Longing? Whatever it was, it gnawed at me, and I couldn’t ignore it. Rachel had started dating this guy recently. She'd told me about him a couple of times. Each time, I couldn't help but feel like... well, like I was losing her, in a way. I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but the thought of her moving on without me—of her living a life I wouldn't be a part of—felt like it was breaking something inside of me.

I didn't say anything, of course. I never did. What was I supposed to say? The girl was talking about her future with some guy who was clearly making her happy, and here I was—dead, ghosting around her apartment, just... existing.

She didn't need me anymore. I couldn't tell her I was scared. I couldn't tell her I felt like I was slipping away, like the life I remembered was fading fast and I had nothing left to hold onto. Rachel had a future to live. I... I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do with what little I had left.

I just kept my distance, lingering in the corner of the room, watching as she sighed and took another sip of her wine.

It wasn’t the worst thing, I told myself. It wasn’t like I had to keep reminding her I was here. It wasn’t like I had a purpose anymore. I had no idea why I couldn’t move on, no idea how I died or what my life had been before it all fell apart. The only thing that seemed real anymore was the fact that Rachel still let me be here, let me talk to her in the little ways I could.

And that, for now, would have to be enough.

“He’s got this dorky laugh, too,” she continues, oblivious. “It’s cute. Like, ugly-cute. You know what I mean?”

I nod, even though she’s not looking. I know exactly what she means. What I don’t know is what happens when this man goes from “guy she’s seeing” to something more permanent. Does she stop needing her wine-and-gossip buddy? Does she stop needing me?

I shake off the thought. It’s not fair to Rachel. She deserves a shot at happiness, with or without me haunting her living room.

Still, the idea twists in my chest like a knife.

She laughs at something on her phone and reaches for her wine. “Anyway, enough about me. How was your day?”

I give her my best deadpan. “Unproductive. Again. Shocker.”

Rachel grins. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Will I?

I glance at the TV, where the menu flickers with mindless options. Maybe I will. Or maybe I won’t. Either way, I’m here. Stuck. For as long as this world lets me be seen, I’ll keep showing up.

Because what else can I do?

NOVEMBER 27th, 2006

One could say that I was currently, extremely upset. But that would be an understatement. I was fucking pissed. What do you do when your favorite resident of your haunted apartment moves out? After three years of watching over her, getting to know her, and eventually making yourself known to her– how do you start over? How do you haunt someone new?

Rachel was the one thing that kept me busy. She gave me more than enough reason to wander out of the apartment and practice the ability to leave the building. I’m not agoraphobic, I’m just trapped. And dead.

I can’t say exactly why I can leave some days and am stuck the others. It takes a lot of energy from me, so much so that I can feel myself disappearing from Rachel’s sight. The overstimulating feelings stick themselves in my joints, leaving me rugged and lapsed energetically. I don’t know what it is. I can’t name it.

I can’t even tell you where the hell my body is or what happened to me. It sucks. Not knowing where you end up or how it happens after living a life where people come up with endless theories about it. You’d think that one of the many ideas has to be accurate, and you’ve either been living your life all right or wrong.  But I couldn’t tell you. I can’t make sense of it myself.

Rachel understood that. She spent her Sunday nights with me, cooking in the kitchen, playing my favorite songs I’d request, and sipping on her favorite bottle of Noir while I vented, told stories, or just rambled. I never had a best friend like her. Not while I was alive, that’s for sure.

Talking about myself in the past tense is another tricky part of being a ghost. Yes, I am dead, and I may not know where my corpse is or how I died, but I still exist. My soul is alive, so am I still a being? Is it “I am” or “I was”? We could look at it from a technical point of view. I currently offer no value to the world around me. I cannot contribute or benefit from my environment in any way possible unless you count Rachel. I cannot eat, sleep, or drink. I can still learn, I can experience, and I can feel. But I cannot disrupt the environment around me. So, by that knowledge, that makes me… still confused. I’m not smart enough to find a solution here. I took one ethics class in college, and even then, we only talked about poverty. I don’t understand quantum mechanics, and I believe in the supernatural. It doesn’t make me a credible source.

However, through all the (lack of) noise, I’ve discovered my new friend might be a credible source: Dr. Spencer Reid. It might take him a couple of months to see me, but for Rachel, it took me a year. But I have more faith in myself now.

My new friend is moving in today. November 27th, 2006, three years, seven months, and eleven days since this apartment was mine.

I can hear him coming up the stairs. A couple of mutters are in the background, so I assume he has people helping him move in. Great. More people to take up my space. I’ll probably find myself sitting on the kitchen counter the entire time while I psychotically stare at him. The doorknob wiggles and then clicks, a sign Spencer’s successfully used his key for the first time.

The door creaks open, and Spencer's voice filters in before his lanky figure even makes it through. “Okay, let’s just leave everything in the box until we bring the rest up, and then we can move the furni—oh.” He freezes mid-step, eyes locking onto mine. “Um… hello there.”

He looks like someone just handed him a live grenade and politely asked him to hold it. His friends? Oblivious. A gorgeous, sharp-eyed woman with dark hair and a towering, muscular man with rich brown skin saunter in behind him, oblivious to my presence.

“Who are you?” Spencer blurts.

I raise an eyebrow from my very cozy sprawl on the couch Rachel left behind—one leg draped dramatically over the plush velvet arm. “Oh, so you can see me,” I purr, enjoying his squirm. “How delightful.”

Spencer’s jaw works, but no sound escapes. Meanwhile, his friends exchange concerned looks like they’re debating calling a medic.

“Uh, Spence?” The woman—let’s call her Sexy Boss Barbie—tilts her head, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Who, exactly, are you talking to?”

Spencer points to me, his face a mix of confusion and terror. “Her!”

The man snorts, folding his arms like he’s humoring a toddler with an imaginary friend. “Kid, there’s no one there. Are you feeling okay? Dizzy? Dehydrated? Seeing, you know, stuff?”

“I’m fine! Are you okay? Do you not see the woman lounging on the couch?!” Spencer’s voice rises an octave, clearly distressed. “She’s waving!”

I sit up, slowly, brushing imaginary lint off my clothes. “Spencer, darling,” I say with a smirk, “they can’t see me. To them, you sound completely unhinged. Certifiable. Just batshit crazy.”

Sexy Boss Barbie’s eyes widen suddenly, as if the final piece of a years-long puzzle has just clicked into place. “Oh my god.” She claps a hand over her mouth. “It’s real. The rumors were true!”

“What rumors?” Spencer snaps, panic edging into his voice.

“The ghosts!” She throws her hands up, spinning to the muscular guy. “There’s been all this buzz about hauntings and poltergeists, and I heard they asked Fiona Caulins and her spooky little team to investigate. I thought it was a prank!”

The guy groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Prentiss, you’re telling me the FBI is officially ghost-hunting now? Do we get proton packs, or is that too much taxpayer money?”

Prentiss—because clearly she has a name now—waves dismissively at him and turns to me with the same enthusiasm as someone meeting a celebrity. “Hi, ghost! Please don’t murder my friend, he’s very nice, smart, and has a soft heart. Also, I’m too tired for a paranormal brawl.”

I narrow my eyes at Spencer, just to make him squirm a little more. “Oh, I’m definitely going to kill you.”

His gasp is chef’s kiss levels of comedic. “Please don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“Emily,” the guy warns, sounding like the parent of the world’s most reckless child.

Spencer waves a hand awkwardly at me, trying to keep his composure. “I’m just going to assume you’re joking. For my own sanity. Because being kind is important. Even if you’re, you know…” He gestures vaguely toward me. “…dead.”

The guy throws up his hands and makes a beeline for the door. “You know what, Pretty Boy? Nope. I’m out. I’ll grab the rest of your boxes, but I am not dealing with Casper’s pissed-off cousin.”

“I’m not haunting,” I clarify, even though his retreating footsteps suggest he doesn’t care.

Prentiss steps closer, her eyes sparkling with the kind of curiosity that spells trouble. “Maybe you’re stuck here,” she offers helpfully, gesturing to my general direction like she’s presenting an exhibit at a haunted museum. “Are you stuck here?”

I shrug. “No clue.”

“She doesn’t know,” Spencer parrots, clearly regretting his life choices.

“But I don’t mind it,” I add cheerfully.

“She doesn’t mind it,” Spencer echoes, his face a study in pure, resigned chaos.

By the time all of his belongings are finally moved in, I’ve become an unofficial connoisseur of Spencer’s panicked glances. Every other moment, our eyes meet, and he looks like someone just told him Santa Claus isn’t real—or, in this case, that ghosts are. He’s clearly grappling with the idea, the gears in his brain probably spinning so fast they might combust. I mean, he’s a doctor. A man of science, logic, and reason. Ghosts? That’s the kind of thing that could either utterly shatter his worldview or send him spiraling into some kind of quantum physics rabbit hole. Probably both.

Emily and Derek—whose names I picked up during their bickering about me (I’m already a hot topic, apparently)—finally call it a night as the sun dips below the horizon. There’s a brief exchange of goodbyes, Emily offering Spencer a quick “Call if you need me!” while Derek mutters something about sage and holy water under his breath.

Once the door clicks shut behind them, the apartment falls into an awkward quiet. Spencer stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door as if considering bolting out of it himself. Eventually, he turns, slowly, to find me perched on the kitchen counter, swinging my legs.

His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. He’s clearly malfunctioning. “I, uh—”

I hold up a hand to stop him, smiling. “Let me make this easier for you. I’ll set some ground rules, okay?” His eyes widen, but I plow ahead. “First, I promise I won’t distract you unless you explicitly ask me to. Second, I’m not going to walk into the bathroom while you’re in there—because, seriously, why would I? Third, if you bring someone over—or if you’re already seeing someone—I’ll clear out and head downstairs. Lastly, I can leave this apartment, but leaving the building? That’s… a work in progress.”

Spencer blinks at me, stunned into silence. He doesn’t move for a beat, then nods. It’s the kind of nod you give when someone hands you a parachute and says, you’re jumping now.

I smile at him. “Feel better?”

He clears his throat, and it’s like he’s rebooting in real time. “Well, um… ghosts.” His tone shifts, slipping into what I suspect is his comfort zone: pure academic lecture mode. “The belief in ghosts is deeply rooted in human history, spanning cultures and civilizations for thousands of years. For example, the ancient Egyptians believed in the ka, the soul, which stayed connected to the body after death—hence, mummification. Similarly, in Greek mythology, spirits, or shades, resided in the underworld but could occasionally wander the mortal realm if disturbed.”

I blink at him, genuinely impressed. “Wow. That’s… actually fascinating. How do you know all that?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read up to 20,000 words per minute.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Okay, that is harder to believe than me being a ghost.”

He sighs, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in… all of this, I never even asked your name.”

“It’s fine,” I say with a little laugh. “And for the record, it’s nice to… coexist with you. So, uh, are you the tenant of my home, or am I the tenant of yours?”

That earns me a small, tentative smile from him, the first real one I’ve seen. “How about we just say we’re roommates for now?”

I chuckle, hopping down from the counter. “Roomies it is, Spencer.”

“Cool.” He says it with a nod like he’s trying the word out for the first time, and it’s paired with a shy smile that feels surprisingly genuine. “Roomies.”

FEBRUARY 13, 2007

Being “roomies” with Spencer isn’t what I expected at all. I thought it'd be a relief when I found out about his job—hunting serial criminals with his team, including Derek and Emily. I wouldn’t have to worry about being a constant bother since he’d be out on cases, gone for days or weeks at a time. But what I didn’t anticipate was this hollow ache, this new kind of loneliness creeping in.

With Rachel, there was a rhythm to our days. A routine. Something grounding that kept me tethered to whatever semblance of stability a ghost can have. But Spencer? Spencer is chaos wrapped in quiet. He comes home with the weight of the world on his shoulders and disappears into his room, leaving me to drift through the empty spaces he leaves behind.

Sometimes, he’s so silent it unnerves me. He’ll come through the door after a long trip, his face drawn, and I’ll sit there, helpless, unsure if I should say something or just… vanish. What could I possibly do to help? I don’t know him well enough to give him meaningful advice. I can’t offer something as simple as a hug or even a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

But I watch him. I’ve learned his habits. The way he quietly checks on me as if I’m a lost pet instead of the spectral figure on his couch. The nights when he’s too tired to make it to bed, passing out on the couch instead. I’ll sit near him for a bit, just in case he wakes up from a nightmare. Watching over him makes me feel… useful, even if I can’t do much.

One night, I finally could.

It was after a case in Georgia. The night before he left, he’d been out drinking with his team, laughing and light in a way I hadn’t seen before. When he returned to grab his go-bag, there was a slight buzz to him—a looseness in his step and a rare smile. But he was gone within minutes, off to chase the darkness again.

When he came back a week later, he wasn’t the same.

The moment he walked through the door, I knew something was wrong. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction like he’d been clawing at it. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool air. His hands trembled as he locked the door—so slight, anyone else might’ve missed it. But I noticed.

“Hi,” I offered softly from the couch, not bothering with the usual pleasantries like How was the case? That felt pointless—or worse, like it might set him off.

He glanced at me briefly before his eyes darted away. “Hey,” he mumbled, his voice distant, hollow. He crossed the room to his bedroom door, hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m going to bed.” And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t even bother turning on the light for anything.

At around three in the morning, I heard it. Muffled groans that turned into sharp cries, then full-throated shouts. It was a raw, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. I rushed into his room, instinct taking over.

“Spencer!” I called, shaking his arm as gently as I could. My fingers brushed against his sweat-drenched skin, and I held on tighter, desperate to pull him out of whatever hell he was trapped in.

He woke with a gasp, his eyes wide and wild. For a moment, he didn’t even seem to see me. Then his gaze focused, softening just slightly. But then he noticed my hands on his arms and recoiled, shaking me off like I burned him.

“Why are you touching me?” he demanded, his voice sharp and panicked. “How are you touching me?”

I blinked, just as shocked as he was. “I—I’m not sure. But you were having a nightmare, and I just… I wanted to help.”

His expression hardened. “I didn’t need help. I would’ve woken up and assessed my situation on my own.” He sat up straighter, his tone clipped. “You can go now.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustration bubbling beneath my skin. “No. Spencer, what happened to you? You were hurt, weren’t you?”

His laugh was bitter, cold. “I just left hell. I’m not interested in taking a guided tour back.”

I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen this before—the trembling hands, the sheen of sweat, the distant, unfocused gaze. I’d been around enough parties, enough people experimenting with everything from weed to molly to coke, to recognize the signs.

“What were you given?” I asked, my voice firm.

His jaw tightened. “Basically drugstore heroin,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

He’s addicted. Probably became dependent on it during the entire situation, which means he had to have been administered it regularly, given the shit that gets you hooked after just one time. There was no way he hadn’t went out and got more. That was a craving that he hadn’t killed yet. Couldn’t kill. Not on his own. I sighed, my heart sinking. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I’m not telling you,” he snapped, glaring at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Spencer, I think I can touch things now, sort of. I’ll find it if I have to.”

His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “I need it,” he whispered.

His confession hit me harder than I expected. “Why?”

“Because he was right,” Spencer said, his voice trembling. “It makes everything quiet. And for someone like me, a little silence is…” He trailed off, his gaze distant. “It’s more than appreciated.”

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to tell him what he should do, why drugs are bad, and why addiction kills. “Okay. I get it. But it’s not an excuse.” I paused, searching his face. “It’s in the safe, isn’t it?”

His silence was all the confirmation I needed.

JUNE 28, 2008

Dark as it may have been, Spencer’s struggle had given me something I hadn’t felt in years—a purpose. That first night, there was fighting, crying, and, strangely enough, an ice cube or two. It was chaotic and raw, but it gave me something to hold onto. The following week was the same—a tense repetition of stubborn refusals and quiet breakdowns. But the week after? That’s when I noticed changes—not just in him, but in me.

I discovered I could interact with the physical world in ways I hadn’t been able to before. I could cook, organize, and even leave the apartment… well, sort of. My first attempt ended with me walking face-first into an invisible wall about twenty feet from the building’s exits. Still, it was progress. It was proof I wasn’t entirely stuck.

A year later, Spencer doesn’t like to talk about that time. To him, it’s a chapter better left in the past—something he’s learned from, something that shaped him, but not a story he’s eager to tell. His team knows, though. Hotch and Morgan make sure the hospital staff know not to administer narcotics if he’s ever injured. It’s a silent understanding among them, a protective measure born from experience.

When it does come up, Spencer is quick to deflect. If someone brings it up, he’ll steer the conversation into safer, stranger territory. Like the first time Penelope Garcia accidentally mentioned it. Without missing a beat, Spencer quipped, “Yes, but want to know something crazier? I’m roommates with a ghost.”

And that’s how Penelope Garcia ended up in our apartment.

The moment she stepped inside, I knew this wasn’t going to be a normal visit. Penelope was an explosion of energy and curiosity, her eyes immediately darting around the apartment, taking in every detail. And there was a lot to take in.

The space had evolved since Spencer first moved in. Back then, it was sparse, bachelor-esque—a couch, a coffee table, and not much else. But throughout the year, I’d filled it with touches of personality. A corner plant stand I’d built during one of Spencer’s longer cases A display shelf for mugs that had started as a simple project but quickly became a labor of love. And my favorite addition—a gallery wall anchored by a soft loveseat I’d claimed as my corner. I had to beg him to buy all the wood from Home Depot, a place I knew he had no interest of ever visiting. But the apartment had character now, a warmth that said: Someone lives here. And maybe someone else… doesn’t.

Penelope was enchanted. “Oh my God, look at this place! Spencer, this is so gorgeous! How could you even live here? You’re such a little nerd.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as he took her coat and hung it on the rack by the door. “It’s a long story,” he muttered.

It was then that I stepped into the living room, my footsteps light but enough to draw her attention. Penelope’s head whipped around, her eyes widening as she spotted me.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and awe. “You’re beautiful!”

I blinked in shock. “Wait—you can see me already?”

She tilted her head, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Oh, are you not usually visible to the mortal eye? Is this like a Beetlejuice thing, where only the chosen one can see you?”

I shook my head, still trying to process. “Not exactly. Spencer could see me right away, but Emily and Derek couldn’t. How… how can you?”

Penelope tapped her chin, thinking for a moment before a mischievous smile spread across her face. “I must be special,” she said with a playful shrug.

Spencer groaned from behind her. “Oh no. Don’t feed into this.”

Penelope grinned, spinning to face him. “Feed into what? Spencer, you’re living with a ghost, and not just any ghost—a gorgeous, articulate ghost! I demand details. Right now.”

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

[marybeatriceofmodena]

What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.

[hairstevington]

call me when you get this

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends, but even the best of friends have secrets.

WC: 3K

Warnings: Story told through voicemails, mild angst, coming out to each other, secret feelings, friends to lovers, kissing, swearing, light angst very brief, references to Robin and Gareth, drunk shenangians, idiots in love, set in 1991 but it doesn't matter too much, no mention of the Upside Down stuff

A/N: I have like three other WIP's happening and zero time but this idea was given to me by the beloved @tinytalkingtina in the discord and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Ao3 link here for those interested!

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 12:52am

GARETH hi yes I know it’s late but HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE ALBUM YET? I need all of your thoughts immediately. Like, all of them. Every thought. Dude, my head is spinning. Ohhh, man. Kurt is a fuckin’ legend. Woooow. Okay, I could talk about this shit for like three hours but I don’t want to run out your tape so just call me back when you get this and then talk to me about it for three hours. Can I come over a little early tomorrow? Yeah, I’m gonna come over a little early tomorrow. Maybe a lot early. Alright, catch ya then. 

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 3:40pm

Uhh, ha. Hey Steve. Thiiiis is Eddie, obviously. I, uh, I just realized I called you in the middle of the night last night on accident, and - uhh, sorry about that. It was just - ah, screw it. You know what I am. Byeeeeee-

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 7:30pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eds, how many times do I have to tell you to change your answering machine message? What if, like, the president calls? Okay, maybe not the president. But an employer or something. Or, like, what if you give the girl of your dreams your number and she calls you and hears THAT? Food for thought. Uhh, anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t even home when you called me. Robin was, though, and so you’ll probably hear her wrath next time you come over for movie night. Good luck with that. Oh, wait. You’re at a show tonight, right? Damn. I swear I’ll make the next one. Okay, bye, dickhead. 

Wednesday, September 25th, 1991, 1:12pm

“You have reached Steve Harrington. Figured I should say that in case whoever is calling me thinks they’re calling someone else. Anyway, I’m busy right now so I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Ha, ha. You are so funny, Harrington. You ever think about being a stand-up comedian? Jesus, and you say I’M the dramatic one. Uhh, the show last night went well, by the way. Not that you were THERE. Seriously, what kind of friend even are you? I’m hurt, Steve. I’m hurt. Anyway, see you tomorrow for movie night. I get to pick. It’s only fair, right?

Thursday, September 27th, 1991, 4pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

You’re not picking the goddamn movie. No way. Last time you did that we got scarred for life. Also, um. I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about me and your shows. I didn’t realize you - uhh, you’re probably joking. Forget I said anything, and see you tonight. I’m at work right now, so I’m gonna rent some backup options just in case.

Sunday, September 30th, 1991, 2pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dustin says you were being a total dick last night. Good. That shrimp deserves to be humbled every once in a while. Your answering machine message still sucks, by the way, and yeah I’m gonna tell you every time. 

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:21pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steve. My guy. I can’t believe you make fun of me for my bullshit message all the time and now you’ve created and advertised THAT abomination?? I’m - wow. I forgot why I even called.

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:23pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Okay, I remember now. I know you said you have that date tomorrow with Heidi or Melissa or Samantha or whoever is currently obsessed with you, but I really do want you at the show if you can make it. You can bring her, if you want. Actually, it might be a good test. If she hates metal, she fails. I only want the best suitors for you, Steve Harrington. Be there or I’ll be REALLY annoying about it forever. 

Tuesday, October 2nd, 1991, 11:45pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Hey, it’s Steve. So, uh - I saw your show tonight. You’re probably not home yet, but I don’t know where you are. Cuz like, I tried to find you after your set but you disappeared. I hope everything’s okay. You sounded great, by the way. I mean, you all did. Remember me when you’re playing at the Garden? Oh also, I heard like three women talk about how badly they wanted you, so…I dunno, just figured you’d like to hear that. Hey, maybe you got with one of them and that’s why you’re not answering. In that case, hope you’re having fun? Okay, now it’s weird. Bye, Eds.

Wednesday, October 3rd, 12:54am

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steeeeeeeeeeeve. You absolute buffoon. You beautiful, oblivious man. Why’dya think I wanted you there’so badly t’night, Steve? T’wasn’t for the girls. Ha, girls. Yeah, okay. I may have had several alcoholic beverages, Steve-o, but you’re still the dumbass. Cuz you’d have to be an absolute idiot t’think I have any interest in those women. ‘Specially yours. Your women, I mean. Sandyyyyy. Ugh, she was perfect for you, Harrington. Juuuust perfect. So perfect I didn’t wanna stick around to see any more of it. I hope you two have beautiful children. Name one after me, will you? Uhhhh I think I might puke. So, I’m gonna go, but - but do you get what I’m saying? Do you - do you get it? Tell me you get it. Steve, I - Oh, hey Gareth. Do you wanna talk to Steve? Wait why are you - Dude, I’m FINE. I’m handling it! Stop! Gareth, don’t hang up the phone, I haven’t -!

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 9:05am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dude, did you fucking break into our apartment last night? Robin and I came home this morning and found a broken lock and some shitty note we could barely read next to the answering machine, and - what the fuck, man? You wiped the damn thing clean. Just - call me back, okay? Jesus. 

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 11:36am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eddie, come on. We really need to talk. I’m not - I’m not mad, honest to God. Call me back, as soon as you get this. Got it?

Thursday, October 4th, 1991, 3:47pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

It’s movie night, but I’m assuming you won’t be here considering you’ve pulled your magic disappearing act. Thanks for that, by the way. You know you really piss me off sometimes? All the time, actually. I’m getting real tired of you constantly poking fun at me, and then you pull this breaking and entering shit and just take off? Just like that? We’ve been friends for years, Eds. You and me. But you never want to just be serious, not once in your goddamn life, and I’m over it. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess. I dunno what I did. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:12pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

Huh. You know what? I kind of miss the old message you had. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m impossible to please, yada yada yada, and now I’m doing the avoiding with humor thing again. Shit. Uhh, hi. Listen, I’m sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Really, really fucking sorry, if you can believe it. I was just, like, mad embarrassed, and I didn’t wanna - uh, can we meet up soon? Alone? Like, without Robin even? I know that’s - like, unheard of these days, but I figure maybe you’d make an exception for me. Or maybe you won’t. Just let me know, yeah? 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:30pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

See, I would just hop on over to your place to talk but the thing is, I’m a total chickenshit and it’s not like I did super well the last time I showed up to your place unannounced, so…Uhh, while we’re on the subject, I’m sorry about your lock. If you haven’t replaced it yet, I will. I’ll at least pay you back. In my defense, that thing was like two seconds from falling off anyway. But still. Anyway, I know you always spend Sundays at home, soooo…hellooooo? Come on. At least pick up the phone and tell me to fuck off. I know you’re listening. At least - I hope you are, anyway. Just pick up, man. I - I really gotta talk to you. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:37pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

So, quick update, I called Henderson. He confirmed you are at home, which means you are DEFINITELY listening, and either you’re trying to punish me or a part of you still finds my piece of shit ass charming somehow. Look, I know I fucked up, but - but I can explain. Shit. I mean, I’m not good with words or anything and I’m a total asshole but I - just, please. Pick up. Pick uuuuup. Come on. Now you’re just being a dick. Ha. Figures, I’m apologizing and calling you a dick in the same message. Dude. Seriously. Your tape is gonna run out of space and then what? You stop hearing from me? I’ll find other ways to annoy you, promise. This is a threat. Steve. Steeeeve. Pick up pick up pick up pick upppp -

“Will you just shut the hell up already?”

Eddie dropped the phone and heard it clack against the floor. He would have recognized that voice anywhere. 

He turned around and there he was. 

“Steve, what are you -?”

“You would just be yapping on that damn answering machine my whole drive here,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why I expected any less. And, thanks to you, we had all the space in the world for you to take up, so -”

“H-how did you get in here?” Eddie stuttered. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s not afraid of breaking and entering?”

They hadn’t seen each other in five days. Hadn’t even talked, aside from a few voicemails. And those never told the whole story. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie began. 

“Yeah, you should be,” Steve replied, taking a step closer to Eddie in the kitchen. 

Eddie winced, his heart racing a million miles a minute. He just had to get all of the words out, while he still could. While Steve was listening. 

“I left you this really stupid voicemail,” Eddie explained. “That night, after the show. I was drunk off my ass, and - and Gareth told me I’d said shit I shouldn’t have said, and then I panicked, and the two of us went to your apartment and I - well, you know the rest.” He slumped down into the chair at the dining room table, putting his head in his hands. “Which is all just so dumb. And I didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath, so…”

“So you stopped talking to me?” Steve said, taking another step closer. “Because you thought that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in our friendship?”

Eddie shook his head. “I dunno, I -”

“You’ve done some real weird shit over the years, Munson,” Steve continued. “Sneaking into my apartment doesn’t even make the top three.”

Eddie buried his face in his hair. No amount of boyish charm would get him out of this one. Jesus H. Christ. 

He sighed. “Okay, so I overreacted, what else is new?” 

“I heard the voicemail, dickhead.”

Eddie’s heart went from breakneck speeds to stopping entirely. 

“What?”

Steve sat down in the other seat at the table. “I heard the voicemail. It was 1am, again, so yeah I was at home.”

“I thought you would have been with Sandy,” Eddie muttered.

Steve shook his head. “Nah, Sandy was - she’s great and all, but she isn’t - she’s not -”

“So you heard the voicemail, but you weren’t home when I showed up,” Eddie noted.

“Right,” Steve said. “Because I was headed to your place.”

“What?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I just - I didn’t understand why you never told me you were queer. Like, you know I don’t care about that. You know about Robin…”

As Steve talked, Eddie realized that Steve only heard half of what that voicemail was trying to express. So, it was time for Eddie Munson to face the music. 

“I didn’t tell you I’m gay because I knew that once I did, you’d figure out the rest of it,” Eddie blurted out.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “The rest of it?”

Eddie groaned. “Oh, God. See, drunk me had the right idea saying this kind of shit over an answering machine. Christ, I’m so bad at this, but I’m just gonna say it, because if I don’t I think I’ll lose my shot with you and I - I can’t deal with that. So, here we go.” He squeezed his eyes shut and powered through. “Steve, I - ha, shit. I love you, dude. I’m - I’m IN love with you. I have been since, like, forever.” He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on their feet against the linoleum kitchen floor. “Which is, uhh, a lot, I know. But it’s the truth. So if there’s any chance -”

“Oh, my God,” Steve interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, or scared, or anything like that. It was soft and understanding. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Wait, what are you thinking?” He looked up to see Steve staring off into the distance before meeting his gaze. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve replied. “That I owe Robin twenty bucks.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and felt his heart skip back into rhythm. “You do?”

Steve nodded with a slight smile. At some point, his hand had ended up on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, I didn’t believe her. Told her no way, not possible.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about this reaction. It wasn’t the worst possible response, but it certainly wasn’t Oh, Eddie! How I’ve longed for you all this time! Take me now! 

A middleground, if you will. 

“Oookay,” Eddie said. “Well, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“I’m queer too, ya know,” Steve continued.

"Wait, really?" Eddie balked. "Steve Harrington, ladies man?"

Steve chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Turns out, not so much," he said. "I feel like I’m pretty open about it. Guys, girls, whatever -”

“Yeah, but we all do that,” Eddie reasoned. “Me, you, and Robin all talking about how hot everyone is on our movie nights. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Except that it totally does,” Steve countered. “Because, like, what do we all have in common?"

Eddie thought about it, and he didn’t have any other defenses.

“O-okay, so you’re queer too,” Eddie said. “And the other thing I said?”

Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie directly in his frightened eyes.

“Eds, obviously I love you too,” Steve admitted at last. “Come on, seriously? After all I’ve put up with? I’ve been waiting around for like five days for you to call, like some lovesick puppy, and the moment I heard your voice I drove here instead of picking up the phone like a normal person. I’ve got it so bad for you that Robin is sick of it, and honestly, I’m sick of it too, because I hate having feelings. It blows, dude. I swear to God, if you try to bolt again when things get tough -”

Eddie lunged forward and cut Steve’s words off with a kiss. Their first kiss, even if it didn’t feel that way. Eddie had cupped Steve’s cheek in the past while he teased him. Steve had curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair in the past the night Robin taught him how to braid. Eddie and Steve had all kinds of physical contact in various ways over the years, and it was as if all of that was just practice for this. 

Eddie broke away from Steve’s lips purely out of necessity, because he needed to catch his breath. “Okay, woah,” he said.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Woah.”

Everything changed after that. But also, nothing changed at all.

-

Tuesday, October 16th, 1991, 4:12pm

“Hey, this is Eddie Munson’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back.”

Hi, Eds. Okay, I was wrong. This new message you have is, like, super boring. Anyway, I’ll see you at the show tonight, Rockstar. Love you. 

xx

I did have a taglist way back when but the tagging system is super annoying on tumblr, so please reblog this if you liked it and follow me or my Ao3 for other works! Masterlist is the pinned post on my page for those interested. Thanks for reading!

[caitlinclarkluver22]

~ Please Please Please ~ P.B a fanfic ( sfw)

inspired by the song by sabrina carpenter

pov: smart!fem! reader x player! paige bueckers

an: so this is my first paige bueckers fanfic, the intros kinda long, but i think it came out pretty good, but there is gonna multiple parts to this, so just let me know if you’d like another one.

remember blue is flashback and purple is lyrics!!

warnings: mention of alcohol, cheating, lying, and mention of sex

“ i know i have good judgment, i know i have good taste. it’s funny and it’s ironic that only i feel that way.”

you’re a senior in college at uconn, your mostly known for being the smartest person in your classes, never failing one grade, getting higher than a 90 at all times, 85 on your bad days.

you were in calculus, to you it was light work. you didn’t really need to study often, having amazing memory and overall good attention span in class.

since you already completed 2 years of college in highschool, having your associates degree, you were already looking forward to getting your bachelor’s degree this year.

————————————————————————

you were collecting your stuff of the desk, putting it in you book bag, ready to go take a break from the series of classes you had just taken.

as you were walking out of the room, you heard someone call your name.

it was your teacher, professor zamora.

“ hey, your the one with all the good test scores right?” , he asked knowing but just wanted to make sure, to ask for a favor.

“ yes…. i am”, you shyly responded, a little nervous at the sudden attention.

“ okay good, so since you have the best grades in the class right now, i was wondering if you were free for another class period.”

free? another class period? what is he trying to imply? i know i might look naive and small, but I’m not stupid to know what men want. i am lesbian after all. although i had my suspicions, i trusted my professor.

“ yes i actually am. why professor?”

“ great! i was just wondering because my next class period is algebra, and….lets just say ive had them for a few years now…anyways, they need help. just pick the one you want and you can tutor them.” , he said praying that she would agree.

although she did have a break for the next two hours, she could spend one of them helping someone, it’s the right thing to do.

“ yes of course! i’m willing to tutor anyone that needs my help.”, you say enthusiastically, ready to help people be the best they could be.

“ great! just come back in around 30 minutes, and by then they should be here.”, your professor said, thankful for your help.

“ okay i got you.” , you said walking out of class, going to grab a bite to eat.

————————————————————————

after the short thirty minutes pass by, you start walking back to the class, praying that this goes well.

as you make your entrance through the door, you see a familiar face.

shes a blonde, tall, blue eyed girl walking to her desk, a purple nike elite backpack on her back (that looks fairly empty ), and a slow sluggish walk .

you could tell who it was from a mile away, it was paige bueckers.

THE paige bueckers.

you noticed her since in your free time u went to go watch the basketball games, cheering for your favorite player on the team, paige obviously. although you went to almost every game, you went unnoticed by her, standing in the back of the crowd just admiring how she played.

you weren’t a mega fan.

you totally didn’t scroll on tiktok, looking and saving the edits you’d find. damn she’s so attractive…

‘ah ah ah, no liking her. she’s in algebra. she’s obviously not smart, not to be mean of course. just observing.’ , you think to yourself as you look around the room, waiting for everyone to take their seats.

it wasn’t only about academics. paige was also known for hopping around from girl to girl, you know this since a couple of your friends had their fair share of dating her.

you were awoken late at night by a loud knock at your door. who could be awake this late?

as you opened the door, you came to a sad sight.

there your friend, lilly, was crying at your doorstep.

she was sobbing, her eyes swollen , puffy, and red due to the amount of uncontrollable tears.

you knew what…or should i say who this was about.

over the course of 2 months, your friend was on and off with her situationship, paige. lilly didnt know wether her and paige were a thing or not, she never knew what paige’s next move would be, little did she know that her next move would be completely ghosting her and pretending like she didn’t exist.

“ i just- i just don’t know what i did wrong. i mean i bought her things, i spent time with her, i supported her at all her games. every single one. how could i be so stupid? i’m literally one of the smartest people in this whole college and im not smart enough to realize that a girl is totally playing me.” , she sobbed grasping onto you like her life depended on it.

“ it’s okay lilly it’s okay, you deserve better.”

although lilly was your friend, karmas a bitch, she should’ve known better, if she had a wish, she would’ve never fucked around with paige ( LMAOOO ).

lilly, yes got hurt, but she was a bad person. in her past she was known for cheating, lying, and stealing. well stealing other people’s hearts of course. she would talk to them, make them fall in love, then drop them after they bought her a gift of some sort.

another one of your well known friends, keisha, always hooked up with paige. whenever paige was bored, she’d text keisha a good “ u up?” late night text , and keisha would be at her dorm room in no time, ready to have good sex.

of course, they weren’t your friends anymore, you realized soon after that lilly was a bad influence since she lied and cheated, while keisha was just to influenced in alcohol and hook up culture.

in essence, this girl was bad news, and she only liked the bad girls, so you’d obviously have to stay far far away from her….

————————————————————————

“ so how do you find x if you don’t have y?”

fuck my life.

“ paige, it’s not that hard. really. i learned this shit in seventh fucking grade, and you can’t get it. look let me show you….again.”, you said irritably, getting impatient by the second. you felt like you’ve taught her over a thousand times.

you guys were in her dorm, on her purple comforter, you were trying to teach her the literal easiest shit ever, and she couldn’t comprehend it. ugh she’s like a toddler.

“ so to find out x i have to add y and…what again?”

kms.

“ UGHHH paigeeeee”, you said, hands in your hair , frustrated with the stupidity this girl had. how could she be so smart on the court, yet so dumb when it came to math?

“ please, i need help, if i don’t pass this then i can’t play basketball. and we both really know how much i love basketball. it’s my everything. please?”, she said, her player facade fading away, showing her true and vulnerable self.

ugh those eyes….

“ …one more time paige. just try your best to get it. concentrate.”

paige nodded and smiled at her, looking down at the paper to attempt to grasp the information that she had trouble with.

————————————————————————

“ I ACED IT”, paige screamed, jumping up and down.

“ REALLY?”, you said eyes wide.

“ YES YES YES, omg i’m so happy right now!”, paige said , her eyes showing the pure raw excitement paige had.

paige then unexpectedly embraced you in a hug, it catching you off guard, but nonetheless, you hugged back.

if you knew the hug was wrong…..why did it feel so right?

you guys stood there for a solid minute, embracing eachother. you inhaled, smelling the sweet scent she radiated.

“ okay well i gotta go”, you said, sad knowing that this would be the last time that u had an excuse to spend time with her.

“ yea- um same.”, she said, giving u a slightly forced smile.

as you were walking away , sadness filling ur heart, u heard someone shout your name.

it was paige.

“ hey um, what about i take you to dinner?..you know just to thank you for all the work you’ve done to help me of course.”, she said with a hopeful look, her bright blue eyes illuminating like the pacific ocean.

how could i say no to those eyes?

“ um..you know what…yea of course. tommorow at 9 sounds good?”, you said , happier than you’d like to admit.

“ i promised’em that your different, and everyone makes mistakes. but just don’t.”

“ i’m telling you, you shouldn’t surround yourself around her, she’s a bad influence! she literally broke your ex friends hearts! both of them! paige isn’t a good girl to fall in love with.”, dominique one of your most recent friends said, stressed out about your love life right now.

“ i mean, she asked me out to dinner…”

“….she what? don’t tell me you said yes…”

“ i said yes.”

————————————————————————-

“ don’t bring me to tears when i just did my makeup so nice.”

you finished up your final touches in your makeup, when u got a text message.

pb and j

hey pretty girl

i’m here

i’m going.

as you came out your dorm, paige was there at your door checking her breath, startled by your sudden appearance, she smiled awkwardly, bringing up lego roses to your face.

how did she know that i didn’t like real flowers? and that i love legos?

your heart warmed at the sight, smiling at her, full teeth on display.

“ thank you paige, you shouldn’t have, really.”, you said, almost feeling bad that she spent money on you that she shouldn’t have.

“ no no no it’s my pleasure honestly.” , she said with a grin, sighing , relieved that you liked the gift.

“ let’s get going?”, you said.

“ whoever is last is the rotten egg!”, she yelled loudly, before running down the hall making her way down the stairs.

————————————————————————

“i heard your an actor, so act like a stand-up guy. whatever devils inside you, don’t let him out tonight.”

they’re at the restaurant, it’s way fancier than you expected. the waiter sat you guys down, and now both of you are looking at the menu.

when the waiter comes back, both of you agreed on chicken alfredo, and both of you got dr. pepper.

you guys start making conversation, talking about the things you didn’t know about eachother , and your goals in life.

————————————————————————

as you guys finished with your delicious meal, you decided that it was time to leave and go home. it was getting late after all.

as both of you walked out, the moon shining bright on your faces, the date unfortunately coming to an end, you guys talked a bit more, laughing at eachother jokes.

“ well that was fun.”, paige said, laughing, her teeth as bright as the stars.

“ yea it really was…”, you say with a smile on your face that couldn’t be removed no matter how hard you tried. a smile so permanent that it ached.

you guys gazed into eachothers eyes, her eyes taking a trip down to your lips, slowly bringing them back to your eyes once again.

“ paige i-“

you got cut off by paige, as she brought her lips to yours, sealing the night in a fond memory of the kiss you shared, the kiss that was between the two of you.

after a while, you opened your eyes and looked at her. she had her goofy smile on, looking at you with….i think love…? no couldn’t be. just lust.

“ um we should do this again. “

say no say no.

“ yes of course”, you said with a smile.

“ okay well…see you later. i’ll text you! “, paige said as she back peddled to her car, winking at you, before running to the vehicle .

god she’s such a goof.

as you got in your car, you only had one thought while having your head on the wheel, thinking about all the occurrences that had happened over the past few months. even though you knew it might end up bad, you couldn’t help but think…

please please please, don’t prove em right.

————————————————————————

WOOHOOO I FINISHED IT DONT PLAYYY!!! i was literally working on this for hours and my friend dominique was helping me with it too( literally love her )!! anyways hope you enjoy and make sure to lmk if yall want a second part or not!!! ����💕 sorry if it’s bad ik i misspelled a couple i think and definitely misworded but not so bad to the point where you won’t get it. LOVE YAAA!!!💕

[hauntedbydreams]

imagine Vi with a gf that will do drastic things to their appearance and not mention it- like reader just shows up with new piercings, haircut, nail set etc and just plays it off to mess w/ her

"I've always had those wym?" "It was just a trim idk what you're saying"

Ok I’m obsessed w this idea bc it’s literally me, I shave and dye my hair every month and don’t realize ppl can’t recognize me when they don’t see me every few weeks, oopsi. This also ended up being very self indulgent BECAUSE I GOT A TATTOO OF VI’s NAME ON MY LOWER NAVEL 😌 I’m so down bad for her it’s not even funny (this IS a photo of MY tattoo so plz just lmk if ur gonna use it for anything)

Anyway hope u like this! (And thank u for my first Vi ask!!) requests/asks are always open!

Lil suggestive at the end but nothing too crazy I’d say…

Vi loves that you’re so all over the place, it makes her feel like you’re always changing and it’s kinda why she fell for you in the first place.

But she was not prepared for the amount of drastic appearance changes you bombard her with on a monthly basis.

You’ll show up with a random new hair color one day, walking into the gym she works at to drop off her lunch. Just strutting into the place, so nonchalantly, like there’s absolutely nothing new when in fact your hair went from brown to black with bright green highlights.

Vi’s at the reception about to head to the back with a new client when she sees you. She doesn’t even register that it’s you at first and her jaw only drops when she does a double take.

“Hey honey” you say in your regular loving tone.

“Uhh… Hi.. uh- hi baby?” Vi’s so confused but you just look at her innocently and bat your lashes. “I brought you lunch!”

“I see that” Vi looks down at the bag you dropped on the counter and leans over to kiss you on the cheek quickly. “I also see you’ve got a new hairstyle?”

You look at her surprised, “oh this?” you’re picking up strands of hair twisting them around your fingers absentmindedly “yeah I guess…”

“You guess?!?” she stares at you incredulously “it’s quite a big change cupcake!”

You fake being hurt and pretend dramatically, placing a hand your heart “So you don’t like it?”

“No, no, no! I didn’t say that! I just meant it’s so different!” Vi’s reaching over to run her fingers through your hair “I really like it”

“It’s really not that different Vi, just added the green” you brush it off, messing with her a little.

Vi swears your hair was brown and not black but she just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy!”

Then one day you’re off work early and you walk by this piercing shop every day on your way home. You’ve got a few piercings on your ears and that one on your belly button that Vi adores, but you’ve been wanting a septum for a while.

So before you can convince yourself otherwise you’re walking out of the piercing studio with a fresh silver ring in your nose.

You walk into your apartment met with the sound of Vi playing video games on the couch. Swooping down you attempt to give her a peck on the lips while she moves her head around your figure trying to see the screen “Hi Angel… one sec I just have to pass this level, then I promise I’m all yours”

You let her be and go to quickly clean your brand new piercing before she’s done with her gaming.

Later you guys are making dinner together and Violet can’t help but notice the silver ring glittering above your top lip when it catches the light. To be fair, Vi is always staring at your lips anyway, so it’s not like she really wasn’t gonna notice a piercing right above them.

“Uhhh hey babe?”

“Yeah Vi?”

“Did you always have that septum piercing?”

“Mhm” you’re humming absentmindedly as you stir something on the stove.

Violet can’t think straight, cause is she that distracted and so down bad that she didn’t notice her beautiful girlfriend had a septum piercing?!? Or is this another one of your “what do you mean I didn’t change anything!” moments like when you showed up with dyed hair and pretended it was the exact same or when you got new nails done and told her you’d been wearing them for weeks…

She swears you messing with her like this is gonna be the death of her, but… she’d never complain.

Nothing prepares Vi for your next drastic move though, cause she goes absolutely feral when u show her the tattoo u got of her name on ur lower navel.

Oh no. You’re done for. Cause she’s almost quite literally on her knees drooling, staring up at you with big blue eyes and you know she’s about to jump your bones and never let you go.

Vi knew you were going in for a tattoo appointment that day. But what she didn’t know is that you decided to surprise her with a little “VI”, the same one she has on her face, but in ink the color of her hair. The deep fuchsia pink you love.

So when you come home from your tattoo appointment, Vi thinks you just went for the bigger piece you got on your leg. So she jumps from the couch as soon as she hears you entering your apartment “Hey! you’re back!” and she’s running down the hall kneeling at your legs, lifting your trousers to see the new piece with an excited “Lemme see!!!”

You’re just as excited and giggle while she admires the work. But you keep ur mouth shut and don’t say a word about the little surprise tattoo you have of her name just above your panty line.

“It’s so cool! I love the colors and it’s so much bigger than I thought you’d go for! I love it!” Vi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Did it hurt? You were at the studio for a while…”

“Nah it wasn’t too bad, plus the artist was so gentle and it’s not like it’s my first rodeo Vi.” You’re rolling your eyes at her concern and she’s standing back up pulling you in for a long kiss.

“I’m gonna go unwrap the tattoo foil and wash the new ink, are you ok to start dinner hon?” You yell into the kitchen as you walk toward the bathroom. “Yeah! In a minute!”

Before you’ve even finished undressing to hop in the shower, Vi’s bursting into the bathroom claiming she needs to wash her hands before cooking. (but you both know there’s a perfectly good sink in the kitchen and she just loves barging in on you in the shower).

She’s smirking as she leans on the side of the sink “Cute panties”

You look down and immediately cover your face in embarrassment realizing you’re wearing high waisted flower-patterned cottons. It’s not your usual choice and they’re kinda reserved for shark week cause you don’t think they’re cute, but it was your best option for getting a lower navel tattoo and making sure it didn’t get irritated. “Stahppp Vi, I had to wea-“ you catch yourself before you can tell Vi about the tattoo.

She’s already sauntering over to you her hands finding their place on your bare waist making you shiver. “I don’t know… I still think they’re kinda cute..” Vi trails off as her fingers dig under the band and slowly lower it.

You’re waiting in anticipation for her to notice the tattoo at any moment, and then she does.

Her eyes go wide the second she sees it. You swear you can see her brain reset to factory settings and her mind go blank.

She doesn’t know what to say or do. Sliding down to the ground, shes now on her knees in front of you, hands on your hips holding the band of your panties down with her thumbs as she just stares at the little fuchsia pink “VI” on your lower navel.

“Vi?” You try gently, dragging the word out like a question.

“Hmm?” She’s not looking at you, just staring at the tattoo of her name on your body as she swallows hard. “Fuck Angel, fuck… is that… is that my name, sweetheart?” She’s biting her lip inhaling and ur nodding a happy “mhm” down at her.

Something short circuits in her then. The way her name is permanently on your skin. The way her name on you marks you as hers. She’s breathing heavy.

She thinks she’s drooling but she doesn’t care. She’s focusing her pretty blue eyes up on you now. You cup her face and try to play it off like you usually do, teasing her with your big appearance changes, teasing her “Oh, I’ve totally always had thi-“

Before you can finish she’s up, kissing you hungrily, her hands on your waist and the side of your neck, crowding you against the sink. Your breath hitches as you notice the glimmer in her eye and you can barely contain a little gasp when Vi’s thigh slides between yours.

“Don’t bullshit me Angel, we both know you haven��t always had a tattoo of MY name-“ she’s brushing her fingers across the fresh lettering, making you wince “-especially not here of all places.”

She’s kissing your neck, sucking on the soft skin leaving marks everywhere, slowly making her way down your body. Your hands are in her hair as she reaches your navel. She’s kissing everywhere but the tattoo, stopping to say a few words in between light pecks and little kitten licks “Fuck sweetheart… mmh, I can’t believe… you, fuck… got my… name tatted… ugh.. fuck” her voice trails off sounding so thick and needy. She’s looking up at you through her lashes and you know you’re done for.

You whimper and Vi’s vision goes fuzzy. Forget the shower, forget dinner, she’s carrying you to the nearest bed… so she can look at her name on your skin while she makes you scream it.

[forestdeath1]

People say that Sirius never realised how offensive his words were until James or Remus said it to him.

I personally disagree with this take. I think, Sirius was very aware of how offensive his words and actions were. James didn't realise, but Sirius did.

Sirius finds people's sore spots and deliberately hits them. This is not James's "morally orientated" and rather impersonal bullying, this is a deliberate way of humiliating people Sirius doesn't particularly respect. People want to believe Sirius "didn't realise" what he was doing because it's easier to love Sirius and justify their Wolfstar that way, but Sirius always understood what he was doing, unlike James. Sirius probably rarely crossed the line beyond psychological bullying, but didn't stop James from physical bullying – he found it fun. But he himself hardly participated in physical aggression, although he obviously could have, being magically and physically gifted. It seems Sirius had drawn the line for himself.

Sirius wasn’t a little stupid boy, he matured very early, he had a very good understanding of boundaries and was always very aware of where he and James were crossing those boundaries.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly.

Sirius knew about James's crush on Lily and found it even funny that she rejected him. Because Sirius understood that James often crossed the line, and Lily’s reaction was quite fair.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

While James played the splendid knight in shining armor, Sirius found it all amusing. Because it was fun for him. And no one told him he was doing anything wrong, he already knew it. Remus mostly stayed quiet, sometimes making them “feel ashamed", haha. He's just much more socially anxious than Sirius, he doesn't like being "unliked." Sirius has zero social anxiety, he didn't care whether people loved him or not (besides, James loved him, what else did he need? Right, nothing).

And I think Sirius truly only respected James. Someone who Sirius truly respects, he never hurt. The moment when Sirius "hurts" Harry in book five is a pretty harsh moment, because Sirius loses respect for Harry for a brief moment because Harry turns out to be different from James. But then Sirius shows a new and even stronger respect for Harry. It's a good moment. This moment allowed Sirius to grow in his relationship with Harry.

And it's obvious Sirius respected Lily by fifth year. And after Azkaban, he "learned" to respect others (he reacted pretty gently in his argument with Molly), but his arrogance still showed sometimes (ie, he rudely cut off Hermione, not letting her finish her thought).

Anyway, what had changed with age wasn't that Sirius had realised that his words and actions were offensive. He always knew that. And he had shown even after Azkaban how cruel he could be to those he didn't respect. The only thing that changed was that Sirius started respecting random people more, instead of sitting around like a shiny royal arse.

But there is a NUANCE here. Sirius most likely always treated girls with respect by default. Idk why I just feel it :D With Hermione, they just didn't see eye to eye.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[patolemus]

Here’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a few weeks.

Summary: Stiles is a demon. This is common knowledge. At least, he was under the impression that this is common knowledge. He should have known better than to trust Derek Hale to figure it out.

————————————

Look, in his defense, Stiles was sure they knew. At least, he was sure Derek knew, and if Derek knew, then the rest of the pack knew. That’s just kind of how it works, when they aren’t hiding threats from each other.

(He’s not pointing fingers. It’s just that Stiles sometimes gets fucking tired when the pack does not tell him shit and then he ends up having to figure it all out by himself so they don’t get themselves killed. It wasn’t funny the first time Scott tried it back in sophomore year. It hasn’t gotten any funnier since.)

(Alright, so he is pointing fingers. Sue him.)

Stiles is a demon. And okay, before anyone gets mad and starts saying shit like ‘no he’s not, he’s just a bit chaotic’, he… well, Stiles will admit to being chaotic as a general rule, but that is more of a character choice. He’s being for real when he says he’s a demon.

His parents couldn’t have children. It’s just how it goes sometimes. But Claudia was a very powerful witch, and she knew a thing or two about making pacts with demons. So when the doctors told her she could not carry any children, she figured the next step was obviously to summon a creature from down below and make a deal with it in exchange for a child.

That’s where Stiles comes in.

Claudia probably wasn’t expecting a demon child to come to her when she did her summoning, but personally? Stiles thinks she lucked out. Stiles is a friendly demon, as far as those go, and his policy regarding humans is more ‘see what makes them tick’ rather than ‘make them burst into flames spontaneously’, so all in all, she could have done a lot worse.

So that’s kind of how he ends up as Stiles Stilinski, son of John and Claudia Stilinski. Claudia and John are the only ones that know Stiles’ true name, though only Claudia can say it right. John tries his best, but they all collectively decide that Mischief is a rather good alternative.

In exchange for being the best son anyone could have, Stiles gets to spend an unspecified amount time on the mortal realm. Claudia doesn’t put any restrictions on him, on the understanding that Stiles can’t go and kill people for kicks. Annoying them is fair game, though.

That’s fine. Stiles has never been particularly interested in needless violence. He’d much rather learn everything there is to know about humans. Such interesting creatures. Truly fascinating.

And that’s how he spends the next twelve years of his life. He makes one singular friend - humans tend to get this instinctual need to get away from demons, but Scott doesn’t have any survival instincts at all, so it works out fine - and spends most of his time enjoying the admittedly mundane life of a human child.

Stiles knows there’s a pack of werewolves living in town, but he never runs into them, and then they die in that terribly suspicious fire and the survivors leave. The town quiets down a lot after that, and Stiles tries not to mourn the loss too badly. The energy they gave off was very pleasant.

Then the werewolves come back to town.

Stiles doesn’t intent to get involved. He doesn’t. He’s a demon, he doesn’t care for mortal affairs no matter how amusing they are. So he doesn’t do anything when he feels the presence of an Alpha in Beacon Hills after seven years. A not his circus not his monkeys kinda situation. But then Scott gets turned into a werewolf, and Stiles doesn’t care for mortal affairs but he does care about Scott, so really, it was inevitable.

There’s also Derek Hale. Derek Hale with his lickable abs and his chiseled scowly face and that angryhurtsadmiserable aura of his. Stiles acuses him of murder, Derek shoves him into walls. How is Stiles supposed to not become completely obsessed?

Anyways.

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up in a pack of werewolves of all things - demons are lonely creatures, they don’t get packs - but he can probably blame Scott for that. It’s pretty alright, even if he gets dragged into every possible supernatural matchup imaginable. At least no one is busting out the holy water. Not that it would work, that’s a myth. Stiles had that phase as a kid where he went to church every Sunday morning and received the sacrament of Eucharist just for kicks. His dad didn’t find it funny, but Stiles still thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Now he uses the name of Jesus Christ every time he can. It’s blasphemous and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious too.

Back to the point, Stiles never bothered to hide he’s a demon. He doesn’t advertise it, of course, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mask his scent or whatever. He’s powerful enough that he can take on mostly anything that comes find him. So he thought Derek knew, and was just being chill about it and not mentioning it.

Apparently not.

The bitten wolves, he could understand. They still mix up deer and rabbit after years of being bitten when they’re running in the preserve. But Derek’s a born wolf. He was trained since he was a kid, and it’s not like demons are hard to sniff out. Hell clings to Stiles like a second skin.

Well, it turns out Derek is the ultimate failwolf, because after four years, he still had no idea. It takes a run in with another demon - this one does like to set humans on fire, unfortunately, so Stiles has to banish it back to Hell - and even then Stiles has to practically spell it out for him. Stiles is only a bit disappointed in him. Mostly, he’s still a bit confused on how Derek even missed it in the first place.

“Dude, can’t you smell it?” he asks, and they’re alone in the loft because everyone else has gone out to buy celebratory donuts while they try to get the scorch marks off Derek’s wall. It’s not going as well as they hoped.

Instead of an answer, or a growl, which is his primary method of communication, Derek does something unexpected and fucking—blushes.

Huh. Okay.

Wait, no. Not okay. What?

“It’s not considered polite to act on the way people smell, Stiles,” and Derek’s voice is strangled, like it hurts him to get the words out. He’s always been bad at talking but Jesus Christ, this is excessive.

(Heh. Jesus Christ. It will never not be funny.)

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve sniffed out other supernatural creatures or people’s intentions. It’s what you do. Other than rip out throats and creep around my window, obviously,” Derek’s scowl makes an appearance - there it is, Stiles was getting worried for a second - looking back at the scorched wall like it’s going to magically clean itself with the power of his rage.

Stiles could probably do something like that. Maybe. His magic is chaotic on a good day, so he can’t really call it reliable. Destructive, definitely. Offensive, if he has to pick between that and defense. Stiles is terrible at that.

He’s really getting off track here.

“That’s different. You’re not a supernatural creature,” Derek says stubbornly and what?

“What?”

“What,” it’s impressive how he always manages to ask questions that don’t sound like questions.

“What do you mean, I’m not a supernatural creature? Are you—“ Stiles looks at his Alpha with narrowed eyes, mouth open mid sentence as it finally downs on him that they’re talking about very different things. “What did you think I meant when I asked you if you smelt it?”

Derek stubbornly refuses to say anything. That’s fine. Stiles is the king of stubborn, he can out-stubborn anyone at any given time.

“Tell me,” he presses. Derek doesn’t say anything. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—“

“Jesus fuck, Stiles, fine!” heh. Stiles knew he’d break. “I was smelling that you’re horny. All the time.”

That— that’s not what Stiles was expecting. Um. Okay. So things got awkward very fucking quickly.

“Oh,” he says, and now he sounds strangled because he thought he’d kept that little tidbit of information hidden quite nicely. It turns out Derek was just being polite about it.

God, does it mean the betas can smell it too? Oh, no, no no no no.

(Heh. God. Stiles is so funny.)

(He really has to stop unfocusing like this.)

Stiles is officially mortified. Turns out even demons get prudish after spending so much time in the mortal realm. Who knew? It’s okay, Stiles will just find the nearest bridge to throw himself off from. If he has any luck he’ll die instantly and won’t get back to Hell so he doesn’t have to live with this knowledge forever.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not personal or anything,” Derek’s still not looking at him. He’s grabbed back his rag and is valiantly rubbing away at the wall. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that if the mark hasn’t come out already, it probably never will. He’d know, he’s burned plenty of walls before.

By accident, if his dad ever asks.

“That’s fine and all, only it’s very personal,” and Stiles is just making a bigger hole to bury himself in, but his mouth is faster than his brain. It’s an ongoing issue. “You don’t think I’m horny all the fucking time, right? I mean, demons do have that hyper hormonal stage at my age but assuming it’s all the time is a bit excessive. I’m not a succubus. This is completely a you thing.”

Derek’s face does that thing where it pinches in between his eyebrows and his eyes narrow a bit, lips pressed together tightly. It’s his Stiles Just Said Something Deeply Upsetting face. He uses it a lot.

Alright, time to backtrack.

“It’s really okay that you don’t feel the same. Really, I get it. I wouldn’t feel the same about me either. So let’s just ignore I ever said anything, and we can go back to trying to clean this up even if we both know it’s not going to come out,” he offers Derek his most winning smile. Derek’s face just gets even more pinched.

Stiles’ senses are pretty dulled here on the mortal realm, but he doesn’t need them to know his Alpha is probably very pissed. At him, specifically.

So it’s Tuesday, then.

Stiles takes a step back, just as a precaution. He doesn’t think Derek will throw him against a wall - he stopped doing that a couple of years ago. Stiles refuses to acknowledge he kinda misses it - but you can never be too cautious. And Stiles did kind of just confess his undying horniness for him.

Imagine if he’d also told the guy he’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. That would have gone fantastically. Not.

“You’re a demon?” Derek’s voice comes out more high pitch than Stiles has ever heard it. He’s surprised. Why is he surprised? This is what they were talking about, before Stiles stuck a foot in his mouth. “Since when?”

“Since always? Seriously dude, can’t you smell it?”

It’s like they’re back in square one.

So. Turns out Derek truly had no idea Stiles is a demon. No wonder he’d looked like Stiles had grown a second head when he banished that fiend back to Hell.

On the good side, Derek apparently also returns his feelings, after they go in circles a few more times and Stiles gets across that he’s not just horny, he’s in love. A happy ending, in Stiles’ opinion.

(“How did you end up as the son of the Sheriff anyway? Is he a demon, too?”

“Hmn? Oh, no. My mom just did this summoning ritual for a Prince of Hell to get them a child, and I showed up. It was kind of a two for one deal,” he waves his hand dismissively.

“You’re a what?”

Oh, boy. Stiles knew he was forgetting something.)

[transmascaraa]

hi its 🍓 anon, can I request comfort with Gaming, Bennett, Scaramouche, Cyno, and Tighnari?

I accidentally hurt my cat's leg maybe like 20 minutes ago from when this is in your inbox but I've honestly just been crying and curling up on the ground where she's laying underneath my desk. I feel awful even though it's an accident ☹️

I'm hoping she's okay and it's not bad but I'm scared I permanently gave her a limp or that she will hate me and no longer want to be around me anymore

multiple characters headcannons!

you accidentally hurt your pet.

characters: gaming, bennett, wanderer, cyno, tighnari x gn!reader

author's note: hi 🍓anon i'm sorry i'm doing this req so late but writer's block is there for some reason🤷‍♂️ I HOPE YOUR CAT IS OKAY NOW THO AND THAT SHE STILL LOVES YOU IK HOW IT IS😭 anyways i decided to write this cuz i was bored lmfao enjoyyyy🔥🔥

♡ Gaming

-definetly gets worried after he sees you on the ground crying like that.

-"no... my love, what's wrong? you can talk to me, okay?"

-all while the pet was in the corner of the room, unphased.

-if left the room soon enough, but that was unnoticed by gaming.

-after you did your best at explaining the situation to him, he understood what you meant.

-a bit confused as to why were you thag worried about it, but he reassured you that your pet was fine and that they most probably forgive you.

-he's going to cuddle the pet with you to help you "apologize" to it.

-with gaming there, your pet will forget about what happened and just cuddle with the two of you there like nothing ever happened<3

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

⑅ Bennett

-now, he's hurt a fair share of animals in his life due to his unluckiness.

-and he always feels really bad for them afterwards, so he would understand after you vent to him about it.

-"hmm... yeah... i get it.."

-but him, knowing that you're not as unlucky as he is, he reassures you that your pet is okay and still loves you.

-he'll prove it to you too.

-but first he would first make you take your mind off of it for a bit.

-and then feed the pet together as some parents to their 3yo child.

-now, speaking of him proving it to you, he'll just let you pet it and let it slowly lean into your gentle caressing of it.

-the only time he was lucky in his life was when he got to be with you.

-you just looked to precious being happy that your pet has forgiven you.

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

✧ Wanderer

-he just doesn't get it.

-why the hell are you rolling on the floor, crying, because you THINK you hurt your pet?

-"but are you sure you've actually hurt it? y'know, if you actually did, then its anger is justified-"

-until you started crying more.

-"b-but you probably didn't. so don't worry. you'll be fine, just like that like creature you call your pet."

-i mean you stopped crying so it was something????

-you'll have to beg him to cuddle you w your pet but eventually you'll convince him.

-the funny part was the fact that the pet was just more fond of wanderer, rather than you, despite forgiving you for anything and everything.

-for some unknown reasons, all animals like him, really.

-(if your pet is an aranara in some type of this teyvat au then it's even cuter)

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

๑ Cyno

-he doesn't react much, really.

-not like alhaitham, but just more of his canon personality when he's not making dad jokes.

-i mean if anything, he's confused, but yeah.

-he just stares you on the floor.

-"what happened?"

-in the most monotone voice ever.

-and then after he understands why you're doing all of that, he shows a bit more of emotion.

-hardly spotted, but it's there.

-"well... i know something that can improve your mood. what do you call a-"

-you just give him a death stare. he doesn't continue speaking from there.

-afterwards, you'll feel the little cutie together and see that it's totally fine!

-you will get to hear the joke he was meaning to say sometime later, now he just doesn't wanna irritate you, he feels as if you need happiness now, not his dumb dad jokes.

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

✿⁠ Tighnari

-he genuinely gets worried.

-but worried in a mom way.

-"you're crying because of something you THINK? are you hearing yourself right now?"

-he's sassy, even when genuinely concerned.

-now, after telling you to take a few deep breaths, calm down, and drink a glass of water, he sits you down and lets you explain everything in great detail.

-then he brings the pet to the both of you, while he checks the pet for any scars, but they fortunately aren't there!

-you get incredibly happy and hug both tighnari and the pet, but he still doesn't understand if ut was worth the crying on the floor.

-your pet literally still loved you.

-but at least he was happy to help.

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

okay i think this wasn't that bad

i really like cyno's and tighnari's tho

but this was fun to write overall tbh lol

| 🍓anon | @mariaace <3

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 31

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

You and Scar make your way to the mall, you find out that he actually really likes to talk about himself once you get him started and he is free from worrying about secret identities...you learn a lot about him in the process, and by that you truly mean a lot, you don't mind though It's actually pretty endearing.

Apparently this is his first time at the mall in years, since he has become a hero, so he doesn't know much of what's there, you say you are in a very similiar boat and leave it at that because that's easier then explaining you are secretly a super ancient god of chaos who has not been in a "mall" ever.

You also learn that he uses a walking stick to go around in his civilian disguise... you don't ask, It's not your buisness, he looks relieved that you don't bring attention to it so you'll take that win... You do mind the way the mortals look at him though, it stirs something in you. You question when you began separating him from the mortals in your head.

As you reach the mall Pearl is waiting with her friends, you might have gotten a bit lost trying to navigate public transport... Pearl has a knowing look in her eyes because of course she knows... It's not your fault billions of year of experience aren't enough to read subway station maps.

"Finally, Grian what took you so long mate?"

Way to put you on the spot. Well, unluckily for her you do have a cover story already-

"Nevermind, I don't really care. Cleo, you have already met him a few days ago. Scott, this is my brother Grian and that is his... uh...friend Scar."

"Hi?"

Scar waves akwardly, you narrow your eyes at her...you can tell she rehersed that line and you know that she said friend in that way to imply something...you don't know what but it is something for sure... You step in.

"Well now that we are all introduced we can go do the...mall stuff"

Cleo laughs at that last part, you know you are hilarious, but the Scott guy stops you by grabbing your shoulder.

"I actually invited another friend of mine. We should wait for them."

What? You don't even get to be the last ones here? No fair, that's so boring...Also what's taking this guy so long? You and Scar literally got to the opposite side of the city.

But you do decide to wait for them and eventually they do arrive... He has to be shapeshifter because you are completely certain that that is vice mayor Martyn with just a different face. He even introduces himself as Martyn.A shapeshifter? No, that can't be right...

So you ask Pearl about it later.

"So, Martyn? What's up with that"

"You noticed?"

"Shapeshifter power of some kind?"

"Sure thing, just not his."

"Huh?"

"Mayor Ren's power, they seem to have a deal going on... Cleo and Scott have no idea though, that's why they are friends."

"Not big fans I take it?"

"Definitely not, I thought it would be obvious considering the whole villainy thing."

"Eh, you know what they say about assumptions, they make an ass out of you and me."

"So you know that very specific saying but not what a mall is? Or how to read a map?"

"I know how to read a map, It's just the subway map that's unnecessarily complex...also I heard that quote from a tv series Mumbo was watching, really funny"

"Hmmm"

Wait, now that you think about it there is something else you want to know.

"What's with that anyway?"

"Uh?"

"The you know, villainy, what is their tragic backstory™? All heroes and villains have those, except for me of course."

"Unless you count being a bored immortal as tragic"

"You are right, I do have a tragic backstory"

". . .I don't know Cleo's, I doubt Scott does either."

"And you haven't looked into their mind?"

"No. It wouldn't be fair. And they are my friend."

"You did it to Mumbo"

"Well, he's your friend, to me he's more of a friend in law then an actual friend really."

"Liar! You two got along great."

"Well that was after I read his mind so..."

... Ok then, you don't think you can argue anything with her without losing- wait, she didn't actually answer all of your question!

".And what about Scott?"

"He told me a bit, he was engaged at one point, on the day before the wedding ceremony was supposed to happen his fiance and his fiance's sister went missing, just one day went poof it seems. He has proof that the hero association was behind it in some way, it seems even they couldn't remove all the traces leading back to them...or they were prideful enough to not care."

Uhh... yikes, you didn't expect that. Wait... You do have a suspicion though...you do keep it for yourself now though.

"Oh, well, anyway-"

Pearl's voice cuts yours...rude, you were trying to say something.

"We should probably reunite with the others now."

That's..true, it doesn't take much to know it would be weird to just disappear on them...so you nod and do so.

As soon as the two of you are back with the others you hear Scar stop and gasp in excitement.

"Scar?"

"Grian! Look!"

He's pointing as a weird looking figure with a humanoid body but very inhuman and disproportionate features... You don't know enough about mortal media to know which character this is supposed to represent... All you know is that Mumbo doesn't watch it so it can't possibly be that good. . . Well, Scar seems to disagree, you do have to ask though.

"Uh... Who?"

Scar gasps again but this time in shock, is it really that weird, is it like an important piece of mortal culture or is Scar being extra? You can't tell.

"This is-"

"Guys why did you stop? Did you see something you like?"

It's Cleo, she seems to be the only one to have noticed.

"Oh It's nothing, me and Grian were just talking! Coming!"

He sounds cheery but you can see he looks dejected...and embarassed. Is he ashamed? Why not just show the figure like he did to you? Hmm... When nobody is looking you create a clone of the weird figurine and pocket it.

When later on you eventually leave the mall you take it out and give it to him... You don't know why his smile goes so wide over something as...small as this but you can't help but smile back.

Wait, this whole thing was for Pearl to do her goddess of wisdom thing on Scar and make him less stressed... AND YOU FORGOT. . . He did seem happier though, maybe...maybe it won't be needed. You hope so at least because you doubt there is going to be another mall meetup to crash.

[cosmichahn]

PINING

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader —☆

about: they always said what happens at PECSA, stays at PECSA...but not this one.

warning/s: mild cursing

word count: 2.6k

note/s: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, whoops! but anw, hope you guys enjoy it :)

“Philadelphia 76ers tickets?” You whisper-ask whilst looking at Ava who had just announced it to everyone. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

It’s teacher appreciation week, and to be fair, you just want to see the band club perform for tomorrow’s assembly. It’s a little piece that you helped them prepare for all of the teachers to watch. This one was kept as a little secret from Janine; no offense to her, but you thought she might twist the crooks and nooks a little with the performance if she found out.

“We have a strong contender, everyone.” Ava grins with malice after what you said which left everyone confused.

“Why are you passing on this opportunity?” Janine gasped, sounding as though she had just got offended.

“If it were a concert from an artist I liked, I wouldn’t pass.” You shrug. “It isn’t, and I might just get confused with everything.”

“I know who to give the two tickets now to, oh, yes.” The principal says which then catches everyone’s attention away from you.

Gregory then asks suspiciously. “What do you mean, two?”

“We only have two tickets and I was gonna give them two to only one teacher.” Ava explained, hearing groans from everyone while you decided to silently excuse yourself and head to your classroom which is on the second floor.

---

Some of the morning classes have passed, and thus, the first break of the day before lunch. Set in the teachers’ lounge, chaos was something not to be avoided, until Ava asked for everyone to go to the library for an emergency meeting, as well as ask for a Sprite.

As you were about to go on by yourself, Ava proceeded to send you a message that asked for said Sprite. With a silent groan, but a small feel of relief, you just went ahead quickly. Thankfully, the fast food place with Sprite was near the school anyway.

At first, you were a bit lazy to drive off, but on second thought, the meeting was gonna be about the tickets anyway; so it didn’t really bother you as much. You wouldn’t want to spend half an hour listening to others bickering about tickets, although it would be a funny sight to see them arguing and bantering over who gets the tickets, likewise what Ava would feel if she saw that scene herself.

You were then soon on your way to the library after about 15 minutes of driving there and back where you got yourself something while also including Ava’s Sprite. And as you entered the library, “Sorry for being late, Ava. Here’s your Spri-”

“Here is our winner, the owner of the two tickets!” She announced proudly, presenting you similarly to some kind of prize.

Your eyes widened, and your eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, Ava, no! You know what happened the last time you gave something similar to someone who didn’t want it.” Everyone’s stare then transferred to Daryl and his eyelashes. “And why me? Why not Mr. Johnson?”

“Yeah, she’s damn right. I deserve it!” Mr. Johnson preaches from behind with a broom in his hand, like a staff from some Dungeons & Dragons game.

“Because you don’t have anyone to go with and I can be the perfect match to accompany you to this game.” Ava says with a huge smile plastered on her face. “Unless you’re gonna bring your secret girlfriend to the game. Betrayal.” She then looks at Melissa who catches up on what she just said.

“Oh, she’s not- '' You try to explain, placing the fast food bag on one of the tables. “No, no, Ava, you got it wrong.” You add, chuckling nervously.

“Yeah, that’s not what my ears found out when I heard all the flirting in each other’s classrooms, huh?” Ava teased.

“I think this is a little more interesting than basketball right now.” Janine whispers to Jacob and Gregory with a little laugh that escapes her mouth.

“Didn’t we bet on this?” Jacob replies.

With Gregory saying, “Yes, you guys did.”

It started around when the school year started and you and Melissa began to grow closer to each other after a debacle about different cuisines. She mostly stuck with Italian, and you, on the other hand, explored different dishes from different cultures. It was a mutual love for food; that could perhaps have also turned into a mutual liking and interest for each other.

“It’s just a little flirting, Ava.” Melissa shrugs her shoulders, with you agreeing.

“A little friendly banter.” You add.

“PECSA Weekend.” Jacob says and coughs in between words that earned various curious looks from the other teachers and Janine’s eyes widening with her mouth trying to cover a stifled laugh.

You feel a little awkward while mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’ You shake your head at Jacob, with eyebrows furrowed.

‘For the sake of the tickets.’ He mouths back, giving you an apologetic and yet competitive smile.

After nodding your head at him with a ‘What the living Christ, dude?’ expression, you announce that you will be withdrawing from this ridiculous somewhat of a scam that the district offered to the teachers.

“Yeah, let me just slide out of this room. Settle this yourselves.” You purse your lip, before waving goodbye.

Jacob’s gaze transfers to Melissa’s who looks at him with threat as he gulps in an invisible lump in his throat, making his palms extra sweatier than usual.

---

Meanwhile, just as everyone left the library, Janine and Jacob huddled while walking to their classrooms; with Gregory following them from behind. “I knew it. Something did happen at PECSA.” Jacob says, looking behind him to see if Melissa was behind them or so. “You could say that I am a good guesser.”

“As intriguing as this is, we should just let them be.” Gregory interrupts, before getting laughter as a reply.

“And pass this opportunity for destined love to not intertwine?” Janine raises an eyebrow with a cheeky smile. “Not gonna happen.”

“I’m just thinking of those Basketball tickets.” He says in defense as the two agree.

While that conversation continued on to be about Philadelphia 76ers and board game night, Melissa and Barbara were having a little talk while also heading to their respective classrooms.

“Now how did Jacob know about it?” Melissa wondered with suspicion. She’s fine with people finding out, sure, but she’s thinking of your friendship with her and how some people can be a little extra nosy, which she isn’t a fan of.

“Well, you know Jacob and Janine. Almost always up for schemes and so on.” Barbara says before waving goodbye as she then arrives at her classroom.

Melissa thinks to herself quietly while beginning her class. She enjoyed each and every second with you that night. Intoxicated by alcohol or not, she likes listening to every word you say because it just keeps her ears up. She’s known you for only about a couple of months given that you were only a new teacher at Abbott.

You’ve melted her under your grasp, and though she may be older, you never once made her feel as though she is. You make her feel young and more alive, while at the same time keeping her on her toes. She likes that you reciprocate to her talking about firefighters and different Italian dishes, as well as her family. Melissa isn’t one to trust people too quickly, but she slowly found herself warming up to you.

This has been a constant thought in her head, as well as it’s yours. Just a constant loop. A game of tag. The type of unrequited love that’s obviously mutual love that everyone can see, but manages to not be for both you and Melissa.

---

After that small inconvenience, or say, exposing secrets in the library, you’re now behind your desk with your laptop in front of you while your class is writing an essay.

The laptop is opened just so you can occupy yourself with something. Just some numbers you’re crunching and a few tests that you’re checking up that you’ll return to your students soon.

Your thoughts then wander to that said PECSA weekend. Alcohol was involved, a bunch of Math-a-ritas later and you’re caught up making out with the hot redhead teacher who just so happens to be Melissa. No feelings were confessed that night, but surely those actions meant something. Hopefully. As you would think.

It remained in your head how it felt the way her hands lingered all over your body, the small groans, her lips against yours. It wasn’t a hookup or a one night stand that happened, as all of it was simply just kissing the whole night until who knows what time it was.

You brought it upon yourself to get drunk with Melissa and invite her to your room; it didn’t take her a second to say yes to you before feeling your back against the cold door with her hand trickling over to the door knob to lock it. She kissed you well, and touched you in places she left cold when she sneaked out the following morning.

‘Didn’t want suspicions to linger. Sorry.’  That was the message she sent when you woke up with your clothes disarray and your lipstick smudges, with her trailing on your neck.

That was about a month ago. Surely, some things changed over the course of a month. Exchanging text messages over those couple of weeks changed, you weren’t that close to each other anymore, and the constant ‘What are we?’ lingered in your mind for more than you want it to.

That night changed what you and Melissa had. For the worse or for the better? You didn’t know.

You sigh in your chair, waiting for the bell to ring as this calls for your next lesson, Music. This one is with Janine’s class.

“Deep in thought, Miss?” Amanda asks. She’s one of the students sitting near your desk. Not with worried intent, but with curiosity.

“Go back to your essay, kid.” You look at her as if denying something in mind.

“Ok, Mrs. Schemmenti.” She blurts out before everyone in the room echoed with ‘Oooh.’s Amanda laughs at your embarrassed demeanor before she apologizes that that might have ended up being a little too personal.

As it turns out word got out about Jacob mentioning PECSA weekend, and not only that, but it was heard by one of the students from Jacob and Gregory’s podcast club, This Abbott Life.

---

Music class went by like a quick second as it was just a little jamming session with the second graders from Janine’s class.

It’s the end of morning class which means that lunch is on its arrival. Lunch which meant that you have to face Melissa after what seemed like only a small incident that happened a while ago. And so upon pondering over what to do or where to go just to avoid an upcoming awkward situation, you exit the music room after dismissing the class and decide to go to your own classroom upstairs to eat lunch.

Walking from down the stairs was Jacob who saw you then gulped from nervousness with the awareness of what he did, but surprisingly, you didn’t notice it. Although behind you exiting a classroom was someone Jacob was a little more terrified of. Melissa. She then catches his eyes, making him rush towards the teachers’ lounge.

As you sit quietly in your classroom, on your desk is the lunch you brought and a book you’ve been reading lately. A couple moments pass and you’re indulged in the story you’re reading. It’s a nice book you’ve been wanting to read in a while, something Melissa recommended to you some time ago. You do miss the closeness you two had before PECSA.

Well, most people say that what happens in PECSA stays in PECSA, but in your case, it probably isn’t.

“I see you’re finally reading it.” Her familiar voice dances in between the words printed in the book, which catches your attention. She greets you with a smile.

“Oh! Hello, Melissa.” You greet with half a smile, inserting the bookmark into the book and carefully closing it so as for it not to crease, before welcoming her to come inside.

“How’s it so far?” Melissa leans on one of the windowsills. She seemed really intrigued as to what your thoughts were, but that wasn’t exactly the reason why she came up here to you.

“It’s so far so good.” You fidget with the printed cover of it. “It’s a very intriguing book with well written characters.”

Melissa grabs one of the chairs and places it beside you, ready to listen to your thoughts on the book, but instead, she was met by the silence of obvious thoughts that lingered through your mind.

“Are you alright, hon?” She worries.

You feel as though this is the perfect opportunity to talk about it after acting as though you were cool about it, about everything that happened. That nothing worried and haunted you.

“We should talk about, you know.” You say it as straightforward. “While we have time for lunch.”

“What about it?” She asks, her voice as gentle as the way she held you that night.

Your fingers begin to fiddle with each other out of habit. “Were there some feelings involved?” You went in straight to the flame. “Did you kiss me because I wanted to kiss you, or did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me?”

“What do you think happened that night?” A question with curiosity that overflowed.

“Well, we got drunk, went to my room, started making out, then the next morning, you left.” Instead of receiving a proper response, you instead get a chuckle out of her. “What’s funny?”

In between soft chuckling, she says, “You’re missing a few details, sweetheart.”

“Is that so?” You ask anxiously before feeling her hand take yours, circling her thumb on your palm.

“You know, when we got on your bed you suddenly ran away.” She recalls. “You ran away to the bathroom and all I heard was vomit and gagging.”

You felt shivers behind your back, feeling embarrassed over something so blurry in your mind and barely there.

“After that, you just kept on crying.” Her gaze softens as she catches your eyes. “You were scared that me hearing you vomiting over the toilet made you lose your chances with me and so you didn’t want to kiss me again.” She purses and licks her lips. “You said stuff about how you feel as though I deserve someone better.”

“I would have helped you clean up, but you refused and just left me hanging there for a good half an hour.” Melissa placed her glasses on top of her head. “We ended up just hugging each other the whole night. I was gonna say something but you fell asleep.”

“You can say it to me now.”  You smile a little.

With hesitance, Melissa starts talking. “Look, I wanted to tell you the next day, but you know, I’m not the best at opening up.” Your hand creeps up onto the side of her neck as she takes this and places it on her cheek. “I have feelings for you too. I like you, and there isn’t a day where your chances of having me lessen.”

A smile of relief grows on your face, laughing out of embarrassment with Melissa soon following your laughter. “God, we are so naive.” You say, rolling your eyes playfully out of the ridiculousness of the situation.

You pull your chair closer to hers, getting a little closer to her. Your eyes trail to her lips and she notices this, letting go of your hand and holding your face to meet her lips with yours. The kiss felt more passionate, with the taste of morning coffee surprisingly still within her lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds.” You whisper in between kisses that Melissa continued to give you.

And so midway she stops. “Are you telling me that I should bring you home?” She looks at you with intent and need.

“Friday.”

[nowiminexileseeingyouout]

kate martin x reader

contains: fingering(reader!reciving , confession)

a/n: i have like 10 requests but i decide to write something nobody asked for?? ok anyway req still open even if i never post :(

Watching movies is the ultimate pastime. It was your favourite thing to do mainly because it was one of the few things that got your busy brain to calm down. You could get completely absorbed in another world for just a moment.

It's even better with friends because you can talk about it afterwards or even during. You didn't have to stress about anything outside of what was playing in front of you. Your favourite person to watch movies with was Kate. Kate loved it just as much as you. You could talk about movies for hours with her if you wanted to, and you wanted to. It was something you bonded over and the reason you became friends in the first place. You liked Kate; you had known her for a while now.

You might like her a little too much.

You liked the way every time she touched you it felt electric. She could give you butterflies just by talking. One time when you both were watching something together, Kate started to slowly move closer to you. You were sitting up with your legs in front of you propped up on an ottoman, and Kate moved so her head was on your shoulder and your legs were intertwined.

She just stayed there.

For the rest of the movie.

You couldn't remember what you were watching that night if your life depended on it. All you could focus on was how Kate's arm was strung behind your back and how warm she felt against you. You could feel yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the slight contact with her and you had to kick her out early. You made up some excuse about how you had to get up early. This was the first movie night you'd had since that interaction. You were nervous about not being able to control yourself in front of Kate. It wasn't fair to her; she was your friend. It wasn't her problem that you were attracted to her. You felt guilty, and if she ever found out, she might think that was the only reason you were nice to her. You hear a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts. You walk to the door to greet Kate, praying you can keep it together. You open the door, and she is, standing there in her usual T-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. You both agreed a while ago to just wear pyjamas for movie night. Why did she have to look so good in pyjamas?

You manage to blurt out a "hi!"

"Hey," she replies, smiling a little at your clear excitement.

"I've got the movie all ready to go," you say as you turn to let Kate in.

"Very exciting. What did you decide for tonight?" she asks while walking past you, taking off her shoes, and making a beeline to the couch. You close the door and follow her.

"Kick-ass," you say.

You had both already seen it, but it was one of your favourites. No thinking was required, plus it was kind of funny. You sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Kate.

"Ah, good choice. I could use a brainless type of movie right about now." She immediately moves so your thighs are touching, ignoring your effort to put space between you two.

"Actually, do you mind if we lie down to watch this? I'm so exhausted I can barely see straight." Kate suggests.

That would mean either you sit on the floor or she would have to spoon you. Oh god.

"Ok, but then where would I sit?" you ask. You have no idea what answer you're hoping for.

"Just lay down in front of me. We can cuddle up; there's plenty of room."

There was indeed not plenty of room. Plenty of room would mean that every part of you wouldn't be touching Kate. Plenty of room would not mean that Kate's arm would be draped around you.

"Alright,"

you reply with a small laugh, ignoring every thought in your head right now. You stand up to allow Kate to lie on her side, putting her head on a throw pillow resting on the arm of the couch.

You grab the remote and press play before lying down in front of her. Kate drapes her arm around you and places her hand comfortably on your stomach. Eventually, she starts gently scratching your stomach, moving her hand in circles. She would move her hand slowly up just below your breasts and back down right below your belly button. Just above and below where you really wanted them. She was teasing you, and it almost felt intentional. The way the way her hand would sometimes go too high and graze your underboob or too low and barely touch the hem of your shorts.

Your breathing unintentionally starts to get heavier, and Kate notices.

"Something wrong?" She whispers.

"No, no, I'm—" She touches the hem of your shorts again, and you sharply inhale.

"I'm fine."

"Ok, whatever you say."

She replies, and you can almost hear the smugness in her voice. You're starting to think she's doing this on purpose. A few more minutes go by, and it's agony. You can't focus on anything except for the feeling of Kate's nails softly scratching your stomach. She wasn't even touching you directly, and she was driving you insane. You're not sure how much more you can take. Just when you're about to get up to go to the bathroom to try and escape her touch, Kate breaks the silence.

"I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" You have no idea where this is going, but at least her hand has stilled for the moment.

"I like you."

"Yeah, well, I like you too; that's why I invite you over."

You let out a nervous laugh. Hoping to deflect the conversation from going where you think it's going. Kate props herself up on her elbow so she's lying above you, lightly grabs your jaw, and turns your head to face her.

"No, I like you, like, a lot."

She says, and you can tell by the way she's looking at you exactly what she means. This has to be a dream.

"I like you too, like a lot."

Kate looks like she wants to devour you. Instead, she lays back down, keeping her head slightly above yours.

"I want to try something; if you want me to stop, just tell me."

You nod eagerly, hoping it has something to do with getting rid of the ache that's been growing between your legs for an hour now.

"Words: pretty girl." Oh god, that nickname.

"Yes, yes," you say breathlessly.

"Ok, and you have to promise to keep paying attention."

Kate slowly moves her hand from your stomach, down past your belly button, and to the waistband of your shorts. She looks at you questioningly, making sure you're okay with this. You nod your head, giving her permission to continue.

She slides her hand under the waistband of your shorts, her fingers gliding over your skin. She moves her hand lower and lower until she reaches the hem of your panties. Kate looks at you again, her blue eyes dark with desire.

"You're so wet."

She whispers, her fingers lightly grazing your clit through the fabric of your panties. You let out a soft moan, your hips involuntarily bucking up towards her hand.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

She asks, her voice low and husky.

"Yes, please."

You whimper, desperately wanting more of her touch. Kate slowly slides your panties to the side, exposing your wet folds to the cool air. She runs a finger along your slit, coating it in your juices. You're so wet that it's dripping down your thighs.Kate brings her finger to her mouth, tasting you.

"Mmm, you taste so good."

She says before diving back in, this time pressing her finger inside of you. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around her finger. She starts to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly at first but gradually increasing her speed.

"Oh fuck, Kate."

You moan, your head falling back against the couch cushion. Kate adds a second finger, stretching you further. She curls her fingers inside of you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

Kate says, her breath hot against your ear. She starts to rub tight circles on your clit with her thumb while continuing to fuck you with her fingers. The dual stimulation is too much, and you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

"I'm going to cum."

You warn, your walls starting to flutter around Kate's fingers.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my hand."

Kate commands, her fingers and thumb moving even faster. With a few more thrusts, you're flying.Kate's fingers are relentless, pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace.

Her thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, the pressure just right to send you over the edge. Your walls clench around her fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out her name, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Kate doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're a boneless, satisfied mess.

As you come down from your high, Kate slowly removes her fingers from inside you. She brings them to her mouth, licking your juices off of them.

"You taste even better than I imagined."

She says with a satisfied grin. You're still trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving.

"Wow, that was..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to put into words what you just experienced. Kate chuckles, pulling you closer to her.

"That was just the beginning, pretty girl."

She says, her lips brushing against your ear. You shudder at the promise in her voice.You turn your head to face her, your noses barely an inch apart.

"So, does this mean we're dating now?"

You ask, a coy smile on your face.

"Only if you want to."

Kate replies, her eyes searching yours.

"I definitely want to."

You say without hesitation. And it's true, you've wanted this for so long. To be with Kate, to feel her touch, to have her as yours. Kate closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss. You melt into her, your hands coming up to tangle in her hair. She tastes like you, like sex and desire. The kiss is deep and passionate, conveying all the pent-up feelings you both have for each other. When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless.

"I love you."

Kate whispers, her forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too."

You reply, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.