#I know it's acting but...it still bothers me

[necroliberty]

So because this is amazing and because I am hyperfocusing on Gravity Falls. Let me share a bit of Amelia's long-lost sister, Kelly Ness. Okay, they aren't sisters anymore, but still.

Kelly fell on the blue grass of a random dimension. She wasn't the type to keep note. The atmosphere was different, somehow safe and dangerous at the time. But again, she didn't particularly keep a note on things like that. Kelly just made a bee line to a mailbox inside either various stickers added to the tin. Mabels had a knack to give stickers to everything. But Kelly just gave them a cursory glance as her right eye gave her the info on each. Giving the coordinate to each stickers place of creation. She should make note of getting stickers for respectives Mabels. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could tell Kelly where to actually send the damm things. Eventually, she opened the mailbox with a specific key and looked through the letters. Some were boring ads that she threw around. No one needed those. Some were Stanfords incredible writings, making sure to say exactly who and where it should be sent. Other times, it was Stanley's doing letters of his own. They were often hard to send back. Mabels were also there. It was obvious with how much stickers and colors her letters had. She practically never had to read the content to know exactly where to go. A bit more, and she was wondering if Mabels just knew the mailbox wasn't actually magic. The rarest were of Dipper and McGucket. For whatever reason, these two either didn't bother make letters or weren't the type to fall in a portal. "Or maybe they both want to be left alone?"

She blinked, and her right eye started to smoke under the intense heat. Forcing Kelly to keel over and grip her eye as the letters floated around her. Smoke from her eye, holding onto them with annoyance. Through her right eye, she could always see something the one who spied. Well, what he saw, to be specific. A mirror was right in front of the demon. A man in his early 20s with brown curly hair broke through by antlers that seemed to either spill ink or petrol from every imperfection in the wood. His eyes were big, staring down the mirror for some kind of stability. Not to mention his long tail swiping at the air behind him. His clothes were still looking like a preacher from a school play. He looked incredibly annoyed. This was a very bad day. "Vulture, do I need to remind you not to insult the likes of me so blatantly."

Kelly wanted to scream that this was stupid, and she was allowed to ask questions. But she also knew better. Days like these, you needed to placate him. So Kelly still held the expression of pain and started to add a quiver to her voice. "I am sorry, I didn't mean for my words to cause harm. I was a fool to even think it in the first place."

The demon stared at his own reflection, closing his eyes too to be able to see her. He vaguely shook his head, making some his hair made of leaves fall to the bed surrounding him. "No, not a fool, just a bad day." He looked down at his hands and feet. His hands were now made of wood, and his feet were deer hooves. He hated this form with such wrath. But his eyes told that he knew better than to take her acting as proof. He didn't trust Bill anymore than she trusted him. He finally closed his eyes again.

Kelly sighed as the pain stopped. She breathed slowly and normally not to let the right eye see her weak. All the letters she had dropped were now safely in her hands, and she looked through them again. Filing them into various pockets in her messenger bag. Making sure she didn't put a letter for the wrong timeline or dimensions.

When she was finally done, she walked away until she could find a loophole in the dimension. Leaving it behind to give letters to family and friends.

This is Kelly Ness as a Mailman. They don't get uniforms because she is the only one.

My smol mini series about the drifting stars au is here!! Ft letters to Dipper!! May do more depending on the reception~

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[loverboysturn]

✮⋆˙ newboy!matt and popular!reader have their first kiss !

read all newboy!matt writings here & find everything else here

note: this is obviously further down the timeline of anything else i have written for these two but i wanted to write something cute for them because everything else so far has been a lil angsty! after this the angst will continue tho..

for weeks now, you and matt had been spending more and more time together—hanging out after school most days, often spending time at his place with his brothers whilst you watched the three of them bicker, you’d take long drives around town, with no actual destination in mind, just the quiet hum of the car and the occasional glance between you. sometimes, you’d even sit in silence, both reading your books, each lost in them but still in the same space, just enjoying the presence of one another.

since you met him, there had always been something intense between you from the start, something neither of you had ever addressed. the lingering glances, the way it felt like the rest of the world was on pause when you were with him. you hadn’t said anything about your feelings for him, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, afraid of the rejection because you know that would break you now, but you felt it, the pull towards him, you just prayed he felt the same.

tonight was no different, you were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, flipping through one of his books you’d grabbed off the shelf. matt was sat on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees, watching you as you read, his brow furrowed.

“you know” you say, not looking up at him. “i was thinking..you still haven’t told me what happened at your old school.”

matt winces, not because you asking him the question bothered him, but because he didn’t want to get into it all with you. not just yet.

“it got me to be transferred to your school, that’s all that should matter” he says, his voice casual, trying to play it down. “it’s not a big deal.”

you glance up at him then, a smirk forming on your lips. “yeah, sure. because people just get transferred to a new school for ‘no big deal’”

he rolls his eyes, leaning back slightly. “yeah, well i did.”

you close the book with a snap and set it down beside you, you were unconvinced. “i don’t buy it, pretty boy” you say, voice turning playful, almost flirty. “you have this whole mysterious tough guy act going on, and just give me a little time, and i’m gonna figure you out.”

“oh, are you now? what’s your plan of action then pretty girl?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow.

you smirk, slowly standing up. “i just want to see if all those rumors about you are all talk.”

he straightens himself up, catching the playful look in your eyes. “you sure you want to do that?”

you don’t hesitate, taking a step toward him, nudging his arm lightly. “come on tough guy, show me what you got.”

before he can react, you push him, gently but just hard enough for him to fall back on the bed. he laughs, not surprised, but impressed by your sudden act of confidence. the sound of his laugh sends a flutter through your chest, making your heart skip a beat.

“oh, it is so on now” he says, grinning as he moves quickly towards you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down onto the floor with him.

you let out a yelp, laughing, but quickly managing to squirm out of his grip, moving so you’re now on top of him straddling his chest, hands placed softly on his shoulders, pinning him down.

for a moment, you’re both frozen in place, completely caught in how the level of intensity in the room had switched, there was a feeling of something else, something neither of you had acknowledged yet.

you catch your breath as you instinctively lean in, your fingers curling against his t shirt, your eyes searching his face, your lips hovering just inches away from his, and you could feel your chest rise and fall quicker than usual. the playful energy between you had faded, leaving only unspoken tension that had been brewing for weeks.

matt couldn’t help it, he wasn’t sure who moved first, but before his mind could even catch up to his body, he was pulling you closer, lips crashing against yours. the kiss started slow, hesitant at first, like neither of you wanted the moment to end, it was soft, your lips brushing together in a way that felt more like an invitation than an action. as the world around you completely faded, the kiss deepened, growing more desperate, as if you had both been waiting for this for a long time, and now that it had finally come, neither of you wanted to let go.

your hands find their way into his hair, tugging him closer. you could feel his heart pounding against yours, and he pulled you in tighter, deepening the kiss so it was slow and heavy. his hands finding their way to your ass, squeezing it lightly.

then, suddenly, the door swings open.

chris walks in abruptly, “matt, have you see—“ his voice cut off as he takes in the two of you, and he pauses, blinking in disbelief. “well, well…”

before matt could even react, chris was already calling down the hall. “nick! get in here, you gotta see this!”

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[bookishdreamer28]

₊˚‧︵‿꒰୨ 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ୧꒱‿︵‧˚₊

You couldn't see a thing. Your eyes were covered with a blindfold and all you could sense was the dark and cold energy that was radiating in the room they kept you in. It all happened too fast to remember anything right now.

"You can't keep me here forever! If you want to loo for something or someone, I'm not the person who can help you!" You loudly said so they could hear me from the other side of the closed door. Heavy footsteps approached the room you were in and you held your breath, as you waited for what was going to happen next. Once the door opened, the steps kept walking and stepped right in front of you.

The person in front of me kneeled down. He hooks my chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger and thumb.

"Why do you keep lying sweetheart?" The heavy voice of this man gave goosebumps to your whole body. It was so familiar...

"I'm not lying! You caught the wrong person and it's so frustrating that you don't even have the courtesy to explain why-"

"Ssh" His gloved fingers touched your lips and a burned sensation appeared in your stomach.

Then you felt him standing up and walked away.

He opened the door and talked to one of his guards you assume, but you was too deep in thought to bother hearong what they were saying. All you heard was that he was going to keep you company for the night.

When he closed the door, you heard his footsteps halting in front of you.

Then his hands were unwrapping the blindfold and it took you a second to get used to the bright light in the room, before your eyes fell on the figure staring down at you.

Your eyes widened as watched your best friend crouching down to your level, a worrying expression painted on his face.

"Are you ok? Are- are you hurt?"

You were speechless for a moment before your shocked expression turned into an angry one.

"Are yoy kidding me Caleb? I- I thought you were...and now you-.. what the fuck is going on?" Your eyes were stinging as tears made their way down to your cheek. The sight broke Caleb's heart into tiny pieces and all he wanted to do was to hold you in his arms. But he knew better than crossing boundaries right now.

"Love...I know you probably hate me so much right now and it pains me so much. But I had to do what I did. They were after you and-"

"I can't believe that our...friendship was based on lies." Calbed turned pale. He was scared that now he was going to lose you for good. He knew that he had hurt you with his actions but he felt like it would've been better than seing your hurt in the hands of the people who were after him. He promised to himself that he will never let anyone or anything hurt you, and he was going to keep it that way.

"Love what we had, and what I hope we still have, was never based on lies. My feelings for you are true. You mean the world to me. I had to act cold and distant now because the rest of my team was watching. I had to somehow keep you safw by showing them you're not important to me."

"Well, apparently I'm not."

"Listen to me please!" Caleb softly grabbed your forearms.

"You are my world, you are my best friend and damn it I- I wish I was more... I want to be more because I-"

His words never left his mouth, because all he could was just staring at you. Your eyes, your hair, your nose and your...lips. Those lips that he had never got the chance to kiss them and dreamed for so long.

"Caleb?" You whispered, defeated with this fight already. You knew him. Deep down you wanted to believe that what he did was actually for your own good.

"Please..." He exhaled as his face came closer to yours.

"What?" Your eyes fell on his lips.

"Kiss me. Please kiss me love." His voice trembled with emotion and you gulped down your own sobs.

This whole situation made you realize just how much you truly meant to each other. And since it has been so long aince the last time you talked, now it was time that no more words should be exchanged. But for actions to finally speak.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you kissed him like he was going to disappear any time soon. Like you were watching a dream and you were scared that your time was limited. You needed this as much as he did.

He moaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you close to his warm and strong body. But Caleb interrupted your kiss by pulling away for a moment and amde you whined.

"Caleb as much as I want to talk about how stupid your decision was to keep secrets from me, now's not the time."

"I'm sorry love I just need to know if you truly want this-" you answered by kissing him more.

As you were going at it, Caleb picked you up and placed on the small office on the other side of the room. He just couldn't hold back.

When you finally pulled back, Caleb was unable to open his eyes for a few moments. It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of you trying catch your own breath. Caleb cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your soft skin.

"It was you, who kept me going. You were leaving in my thoughts the whole time I was trapped in nothing but darkness. I'm not deserving of your forgiveness and I'm willing to grovel for you my love. But nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever stop this heart" he softly grabbed your hand and placed on top of where his heart beats "beating for you."

Your glassy eyes knly stared at him for a moment and then a soft smile appeared on your face, making Caleb smiled widely at the sight.

"Always you." You said as you omce again kissed him, pouring all the love you had in you into it. Even thought you spent so much time away from each other, one thing for sure is that your souls were connected. And there will never be nothing to break this connection.

I got so excited when his trailer dropped that I HAD to post something ASAP!!!!!

[greengoblinswifey]

Revenge—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas gets fired and as an act of revenge, fucks you, his boss’ daughter and sends it to him. based on this request.

warnings— daddy kink, exhibitionism, degradation, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, ass slapping, choking, manipulation, recording sex, revenge porn, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

a/n— enjoy this as I take a break from spiraling!

The city below bustled faintly as you sat perched on your father’s desk in his office. He would probably freak seeing you sit on the place he did his work and have his meetings but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Daddy dearest was away having meetings all morning so being the heir to his empire, you were left in charge of affairs until he returned. The only ‘affairs’ you handled were typing away on your phone combatting your friend’s comments of you being a ‘nepo baby’ and sitting on your father’s desk as if you owned the place. Well, in just a few years you would.

A knock on the large glass door startled you, and you shouted a “Come in!” to indicate to whoever was stood outside could enter. You didn’t even bother to look up from your phone until you heard a deep voice greet you.

Shoes clicked faintly on the glistening tiles after you heard the door shut behind them. “Uh, good morning,” the deep voice said. As you looked up, your jaw fell slightly agape.

Standing a few feet away was nothing short of a Greek God. He was tall, muscles bulging from the tailored suit he was clad in, hair tousled but still neat and dark, beautiful eyes. You were sucker for men’s eyes right after their height.

“It’s afternoon, and s-same to you.” Your voice faltered as the man inched closer with a box in his hands.

His lips pressed together before he gave a tight lipped smile. “Sorry, a lot on my mind. Is your father in the building?”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes raking over his form as his went over yours, only more subtly. “He’s not. You’ll have to speak to me about whatever concerns you have.”

He sighed shaking his head, clearly annoyed but attempting to keep his composure. “Well, I’m just returning these last set of papers and items since your father fired me.”

“Fired you?” Your right eyebrow arched, confusion swirling your mind. How could your father ever fire someone so good looking. He was perfect. “Sit down, tell me what happened,” you continued, sweetly.

He placed the box at his feet and sat on the leather couch positioned right in front of you. With the way you were positioned, one wrong move and he would see the red and black thong barely covering your pussy.

“My name’s Nicholas Chavez,” he started. Nicholas, you could definitely moan that. “I was fired yesterday with no plausible explanation other than budget cuts. I mean no disrespect when I say this but that makes no fucking sense. I’ve worked harder than almost everyone here. I arrive on time and I leave later than everyone else. I’ve given my all to this company and this is how your father repays me?” He was angry, no doubt, and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt and sympathy you felt for him.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, titling your head and biting your lips absentmindedly, though the action didn’t go unnoticed by Nicholas. “I’ll talk to daddy for you, that’s so unfair.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t think you can change his mind,” he huffed.

Clearly, Nicholas wasn’t aware of the strong hold you had on your father. In his eyes, you could do no wrong. All you had to do was pout and give him those big doe eyes and whatever wish you had would be granted.

You slid off the table seductively and sat beside him, a hand teasingly rubbing his thigh. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk to him and change his mind. Is there anything else you want to get off your chest? Anything I can do to help? You batted your long eyelashes, hand still rubbing his thigh as you felt him relax under your touch.

He turned to look at you, eyes darting to stare at your bare thighs then your lips. “Anything huh?” You nodded slowly, and he inched closer to you. As he spoke, you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You have the face of an angel and the body of a porn star. I bet after I’m finished with you, I could turn you into one—if you let me.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and you tried to speak but no sound came out.

What were you doing? Your father didn’t send you here for his ex-employees to speak to you as though you were a piece of meat. But you couldn’t deny, his words left you soaked and eager.

“Not so bold now, are you?” He chuckled darkly, a hand somehow finding its way around your neck as he forced you to look at him. “You’ve been eyeing me since the moment I walked in. You’re a slut, you want this.”

“Nicholas, my father—”

He interjected before you could continue. “Sweetheart, your father isn’t here. That means I can have my way with you and show him he can’t fucking fire me and get away with it.”

He stood, pulling you up by your neck firmly but gently and put you to sit on the desk in the same position he first saw you. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as his wet tongue slid from your neck up to your ear.

“Fuck, m’gonna have so much fun with you. You’re gonna let me right? You asked if there’s anything you can do to help. This is it.”

Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a deep, all consuming kiss. His hand remained around your neck while the other roamed your body, groping your tits before settling on your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a dream,” he muttered, pulling away just enough to stare at your swollen lips.

“W-we shouldn’t,” you finally managed to say, breath heaving from the intensity of the kiss.

He licked his lips before looking down at the unmistakable sight of you clenching your thighs. “Oh sweetheart, you know we should. Why else would you be clenching your thighs? Now say it.”

Your breathing grew heavier as he pried open your legs, fingers finding your flimsy thong before he ripped it off.

“We should.” Your voice cracked as the cool air from the air conditioner in the office hit your pussy. A smug smirk plastered on Nicholas’ face, his eyes locked on yours while his fingers inched higher until they reached your pussy.

“God, you’re such a slut. You’re soaked,” he chuckled.

Your hand gripped his bicep as two fingers found your heat, giving you no time to adjust. They worked with precision immediately, thrusting and curling as you were forced to look into his dark eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight baby,” he cooed, his fingers speeding up. You didn’t want to admit you were enjoying this but the sound your pussy was making gave you all the confirmation you needed.

Despite your efforts, you let out a low moan the second his thumb connected pressed against clit. His double efforts had you squirming on the table, your legs shaking as his fingers curled then sped up.

“You love this. What would daddy dearest think seeing his slutty daughter get used?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a cry, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train as you soaked his fingers and the desk below.

“Fucking hell. Did you really just squirt from me fingering you on your dad’s desk. Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with a slut like you.” His words made you shiver and your head lulled on his shoulder, shame filling you but he wasn’t finished yet. Not even close.

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you off the desk and shoving you onto your knees. “Unbuckle my belt,” he uttered, tone low and commanding. Your shaky hands went to his pants, unbuckling the belt slowly. You pulled his pants down, eyes widening at the large dent in his boxers. He was hard.

“I didn’t tell you to pull my pants down but since you’re so eager, take my dick out and suck it.” Manipulation was doused in his words but at that point, you didn’t care. Or maybe you did. All you knew was that you were ready to have his dick down your throat. Your shaky hands pulled his boxers down and he sprang free, thick, long and veiny. You had to admit, the minute he walked through the door, you knew a man like him was huge.

“Take it down your fucking throat like a good girl,” he commanded, hands tangling in your braids.

With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth earning a low groan. As you took him deeper, your tongue swirled along the shaft, getting it sloppy the way you knew he liked it.

“Just like that, you’re a pro,” he moaned, his dark gaze staring down at you.

You deep throated him, blessed to have to no gag reflex. Your hands massaged his heavy balls and soon, you picked up a steady rhythm, bobbing your head as your mouth made filthy noises that echoed throughout your father’s office.

“Fuck, I was right. You’re exactly like a pornstar,” he began, now thrusting his hips forward, “such a fucking whore, just slobbering all over my cock.”

Your nails dug into his thighs as he held your hand and brought you down on his cock at the same pace he was thrusting into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly and all you could do was moan in response.

“I love it when a girl moans with my dick in her mouth. You’re so perfect,” he murmured.

At his praises you used as much tongue as you could, gliding it along his thick length as he fucked your throat.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. And you’re gonna swallow it all. Open up that fucking throat.”

He held you down on his cock, your nose touching his pelvis and you swallowed obediently as soon as his load filled your mouth. He moaned above you, muttering curses as the last of his cum sprayed on your tongue.

He let go of your braids and took ahold of his still hard cock. “Stick that tongue out, let me see.” You did as you were told, sticking your tongue out. He slapped his cock on your tongue and across your cheek, smirking above you. “That’s a good girl, now get up and sit on the desk.”

Rising to your knees, you sat on the desk and he positioned himself in front of you. “Now, I’m gonna give that tight, wet pussy what it’s craving but first, you have to beg me for it.”

You knew exactly what he meant and without missing a beat, you did as instructed. “P-please Nicholas, please, I need your cock.” A small slap interrupted you, whipping your head to the side, though the force wasn’t enough to cause pain.

“Call me daddy,” he growled. Your breath hitched at the pure taboo of his expectations. You called your own father, daddy. And now he wanted you to call him daddy while you begged for him to fuck you in your actual daddy’s office. “C’mon sweetheart, I don’t have all fucking day.”

“Please daddy,” you began, a look of desperation plastered across your face. “I need your cock. Please fuck me daddy.”

He was clearly satisfied and he lined the raw bulbous tip with your leaking entrance. You gasped involuntarily, feeling him slap it on your clit a few times before he pushed inside you.

“So goddamn tight,” he groaned, looking down at your pussy just swallowing him. His hand snaked around your neck once more as you adjusted to size, pussy welcoming him inside your walls.

“Daddy,” you moaned softly, as he began pounding into you. Your moans made him feral and his thrusts reflected it, the desk shaking as he slammed into you, hand wrapped securely around your neck. Your hands went to the back of his neck, clawing and clutching, feeling him repeatedly slam against that sweet spot inside you.

“You love my cock don’t you? You’re a fucking whore for me, c’mon, say it,” he demanded, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

“I love your cock daddy,” you cried out. The whole top floor probably heard your screams but you didn’t care. “I’m a whore for you, I’m your whore daddy!”

“That’s my good girl.” His thrusts grew more frantic and he reached between your bodies, rubbing rough circles on your bundle of nerves as you convulsed and throbbed under his touch.

“Cum on daddy’s cock. Cum on my cock while I fuck you like a slut on your dad’s desk.” You cried out, pussy clamping down on his cock as an intense orgasm took ahold of you. Your entire body shook and your hands went to his ass, pulling him in even deeper as you came on his cock.

“Shit, that’s my good girl, now turn around. I wanna see that ass bounce on my cock.”

He flipped you around effortlessly, pushing you flat on the table as you arched your back. “That’s it, now spread that ass let me see.” You spread your ass open and felt him spit on your pussy before his cock dragged along your folds. He sunk into you from behind, his cock angling even deeper at this angle and he slapped your ass as he began pounding into you.

“God. That fucking ass, you’re so sexy baby,” he muttered, rolling his hips as his pace increased.

You bounced your ass back against him, earning another slap and a deep moan as he fucked you against the desk. You were so caught up in his cock filling you up and hitting all the right spots that you almost missed the bright light out of the corner of your eye. Almost.

“W-what are you doing?” you rasped, still fucking yourself on his hard cock.

“Recording our first memory,” he said, though he tone was tinged with something darker.

You moaned as he slapped your ass, his other hand clutching his phone tightly as he recorded his cock disappearing inside you.

“Who’s making you cream all over his cock? Huh?” he asked, pulling your hair so your back arched even deeper.

“You are daddy! Only y-you!” you cried out, earning a low chuckle.

“That’s a good girl. Such a fucking slut letting me record you getting utterly fucked on your dad’s desk and calling me daddy while you’re at it? God,” he sneered.

Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock at his words, the stretch burning but pleasurable and you knew you were on the brink of an orgasm.

“Gonna cum on daddy’s cock? Yeah? Beg me,” he growled, angling his phone even closer to your pussy showing just how much wetter you were getting.

“Please daddy. Please can I cum? Please let me cum on your cock, I’m your dirty slut,” you sobbed, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

“Well since you asked so nicely, cum on my cock,” he urged.

You gripped the edge of the desk, a loud moan escaping your lips as your juices soaked his cock that was pumping inside you. You sobbed from the sensitivity, holding out your hand to slow his movements but he just held it behind your back.

“I’m gonna cum inside this needy pussy. Gonna breed you so the baby that grows inside you can be my ticket to your dad’s empire. Gonna get you fucking pregnant so I can be the father to his grandkids,” he chuckled darkly.

“Breed me daddy,” you croaked out and that was all it took.

Nicholas stilled inside you, his cock throbbing and spurting his seed deep inside your pussy. You moaned, collapsing on the desk as your pussy milked him of every last drop.

A swooshing sound you recognized as the sound an iPhone made when an email was sent snapped you back to reality. Though, you were too fucked out to mention it but it seemed Nicholas read your mind.

“Just a heads up, I sent that little recording of me fucking you to your dad. We’ll see if firing me was worth it,” he said, darkly.

“P-please,” you uttered weakly.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s already done. Daddy will see how much of a fucking slut and pornstar his innocent little girl really is. That’ll fucking show him.”

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

[revelboo]

Are your shoulders tired from carrying the entire Transformers fandom right now, Rev?

Your fics are also inspiring a bunch of people?!? Nice. Love your fics, dying from the angst, but now I'm writing fluff fics while waiting for you to post hahaaha *dies*

I just started writing TF fics because I couldn’t find what I wanted to read 😆 but I’m loving that more people are starting to write stuff, too! I’ve been trying to pester a writer friend (one of the ones that convinced me to start writing TF smut originally to create a Tumblr and share her stuff, too)

Everything Is Alright Pt 107

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Your palm resting against his own, fingers lined up with his servos drives home how much smaller you are even when he’s mass displaced. How fragile. And yet you can still entrust yourself to him as he curls his other arm around you and tries to explain what he knows of how Cybertronians are sparked. How that spark can become transferred into a waiting protoform. But a hybrid spark? He has no idea if it will still work the same way. You’re so small, will the spark stay your size? Smaller than a true Cybertronian? As defenseless as you are? It’s a struggle to keep his tone calm, to pretend he’s not as scared as you are. As unsure.

• Laying your head against him as he talks, some of your tension eases at the confidence in his rasping voice. Because you really need to believe that one of you has a clue what you’re doing. And there’s still Megatron, who even though he knows you’re no pet, seems determined to force you to keep up the act and play one for his amusement. He’s dangerous. Know that, but speaking to him? You think he’s also lonely and more than a little tired. Hating that he can startle a laugh from you when he wants to, that those big hands are so gentle. That you like those rare smiles and- you like him. Stiffening in Star’s arms, you press your face against his neck, because you can’t possibly like Megatron, public enemy number one and the biggest threat to your life. “What’s wrong?” Starscream asks. What is wrong with you? You have Star and Soundwave. You’re happy with them. You can’t like Megatron, too.

• Wings flaring slightly when you don’t answer him, he takes your shoulders in his hands and pulls you back, not liking when you avoid his optics, face heating. And then hiding your face in your hands as he vents. Another weird human thing? Or something you just don’t want to talk about? Optics narrowing, he rests his helm against your forehead and waits. “It’s nothing. Really,” you murmur, head tipping to brush your mouth against his, trying to kiss away his frown. Wants to trust that, but knows you. Knows you rarely complain or ask for anything. And right now that bothers him. How can he take care of you when you won’t tell him you need something? Resting a palm against your throat before sliding it down to rest over the steady beat of your heart, his optics shutter. Grounding himself in the feel of you. Of home and hope. Won’t push, because he knows he’s terrible at this, too. But he wants to get better. To be better. For you to trust him.

• Megatron can feel Soundwave’s optics on him through the visor. Can also feel the tension in his old friend and he vents softly. “I’m not going to hurt your little human, but you’ll still bring them to me.” But what Soundwave is hinting at, proposing in veiled, cautious words? That he make his own claim upon you just to force Starscream into stopping his attempts to ursurp him is clever, because it’s tempting. And his second in command will despise it. But he knows Soundwave, knows how protective he is of his cassettes and can imagine that protective instinct extends to you as well. If you’re tied to all three of them? Shared between them? You’d be guaranteed safety. “I’ll consider it,” he adds on a growl, annoyed with himself. But when he remembers those angry eyes, the way you’d defended Starscream, arguing with him? You’d challenge him while being no real threat, a little, affectionate mate to sit at his peds while he’s on his throne. Respected and safe because you belong to him. And he remembers the way you’d looked under Soundwave. The sounds you’d made.

• Inclining his head respectfully, some of Soundwave’s tension eases. Betting on Megatron’s own loneliness. That he’ll keep demanding you be brought to him, speak with you and come to know you. Doesn’t really hope that Megatron will love you, only arranging a mating for convenience. To keep you safe whether you want it or not. Telling himself that this is necessary as Megatron strides away, but there’s a shadow of doubt in his spark. Afraid that you’ll hate him for this, won’t understand that he’s doing this all for you. For a future he’s desperate to have.

Previous

[acehazbin1]

Okay hear me out on this for the one and Only Emperor Caracalla. If you like this one- I might get confident enough to send another request for Emperor Geta lol. I didn’t see a rules- sorry -so if this goes against any just ignore this message lol.

Okay so I’m thinking you could do a fic or two of Caracalla with a motherly reader. Whether they’re a maid, concubine, etc. They just adore him “my sweet boy” and such. Sorry if this sucked LOLOL

“Motherly love.”

I loved this request! Sadly I didn’t see it straight away, but it’s a great idea!!

Notes: sorry if this is horrible I was in a rush! Also about the other series I’m working on the 3rd chap just been a busy January!

Mother!Reader & Caracalla (not romantic)

Cybele= Roman god of motherhood

……..

Emperor Caracalla was only nineteen when he took the throne alongside his twin brother, they were both immature and unfit to govern the Roman Empire. Yet somehow two years in Emperor Caracalla and Emperor Geta remained on the throne, sure Rome was starving and the wars were never over but he still held the power in his hands.

People thought he was ruthless, a real human being could never see the suffering on the streets and continue to throw banquets and parties. He must be a monster with a stone-cold heart… yet in the palace, many workers knew the truth. One in particular knew nearly everything about him if anything minorly or majorly impacted his life she would be the first to know.

“Cybele, Cybele!” Caracalla called out into the open space that was the fountain. She was washing sheets in the fountain, it was her duty as an assistant nurse to wash the bedsheets of the care beds. “Emperor, I wished you reframe from calling me that. It is disrespectful to Cybele.”

Caracalla's eyes found her and he started to make his way over towards the fountain. “Ah, but you are the goddess herself to me.” Caracalla flashes his golden tooth with a grin. “I am not yet a mother.”

“By blood no, but by your actions, they say otherwise.” Caracalla twisted his head a bit, she nodded her head while reaching into the water and twisting the sheets around. “Why did you come down to the servant's area? Did you have something to say?”

“Oh yes.” Caracalla eyes light up, “I thought Dungdus a new trick!” Caracalla whistled for the monkey and she came flying down the stairs. Caracalla patted his shoulder and the monkey climbed up, he then stuck out his arm and Dundgus climbed out. The brown monkey hung upside down on his arm for a few seconds, before jumping off.

“Oh, that was delightful.” She made sure to clap and smile, and he highlighted her comments. “You think so?” He stepped closer, “yes of course.”

Caracalla grinned from ear to ear, he sat down on the side of the fountain letting Dungdus run around the servants’ area. “I can teach her more tricks if you like?” Caracalla mused, which made her shake her head. “Only teach her trick if you want to, you don’t need to impress me.”

Caracalla's eyes went away from her face and he fidgeted with his shelve. “I- I don’t want to impress you…” He didn’t want to admit it, she felt her heartstrings tug. She dropped the bedsheets she was holding and cupped his cheek with her palm. “Oh my sweet boy it’s okay.”

Her voice was like honey, it smoothed him while sick in the head. Many times her voice was one of comfort when he had to visit the nurse, she sat by his side whispering things of comfort to help him through his mental anguish.

He nuzzled into her palm, as he whispered, “Geta tired to embarrass me infront of the senate today.” He would normally complain about Geta, his mind would twist the things that Geta did to protect him into horrible acts of envy. “What did he say?” She asked.

“He said that he should be the one to look over the spending of the army, but we both agreed that would be my job.” Caracalla said with his voice laced in spite. “Your bother can-“ “and when a senator implied that I was useless he didn’t even stand up for me!” Caracalla cut her off with more angrily whispering.

She wave him a dry look, “Caracalla.”

“It’s so unfair-“ “Caracalla.” “he always does this!” “Caracalla.” “I know he’s going to-“ “CARACALLA.”

She raised her voice which made him wide eyed and tensed his shoulders. He was so caught off guard by her yelling, he was used to Geta or the crowd at a game yelling but a servant wasn’t supposed to yell at him. Specially not you.

“I’m sorry you interrupted me, we talked about this before.” The maid said and rubbed his cheek trying to ease him out of his shock. She didn’t mean to yell at him, just hated when he never listened to reason.

“You- you yelled at me…” Caracalla choked, his eyes watered a bit as the shock wore off. “Shsh, I’m sorry.” He pulled away from her hand, as she tried to move it closer. It wasn’t like him to move away from touch, “Caracalla please.”

Caracalla feet tapped the group, his eyes switched back from the fountain to the palace. His head was spinning, he tried to push himself off the little wall he was sitting on to keep the water in before her hand held his wrist. “Caracalla listen to me.”

“I did not mean to yell, you did not mean to interrupt me. It was a miss understanding.” She breathed out but he looked away from her eyes trying to figure out if he should believe her words. “I- I…”

She got up quickly allowing the basket to dump into the fountain. She would deal with that later, she pulled him so he was turn around. He looked a bit terrified by the fact he was dragged back to her but she wrapped her arms around him.

It took him a second, his eyes still wide and wet, his hair messed up and his palms were shaky but he melted into her grip. He nearly let his hold body fall, it was slightly scary for her to hold up his body weight but she was just glad that he forgave her.

“My sweet boy.” She held him tight, “I’m so sorry,”

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

1: The Interview

Batman hates a lot of things: mornings, waking up early, the sunlight peaking through his curtains, people-more specifically, Superman-bossing him around (even if that one is a bit hypocritical) and losing (in general) bets, just to name a few. But, another thing is strangers being around his newly adopted pup; Richard, anything and anyone that isn't deemed trustworthy to Bruce is deemed as a threat or kept in his sights as a potential enemy until stated otherwise.

Which is why Batman finds himself feeling antsy as he waits for the signal to be given for him and Superman to exit the backstage area together and onto set.

The omega doesn't even know why he agreed to be shown in public with his pup and Superman, it's just...he couldn't resist the excited little eyes turned his way when Richard heard the Kryptonian suggest doing an interview together. Of course, Bruce knows he should have knew his pup would be excited at the idea of an audience, the boy was a performer and entertainer for Heaven's sake, it's just that he never expected for himself to be so nervous about taking his baby out in public for the first time in awhile that wasn't for dealing with small crimes.

"Robin, make sure to stay under my cape unless stated otherwise, okay?"

The boy pouts at the gentle command, curious as to why his mom is so nervous. "But why? I could perform a lot of cool tricks for them out there. I bet they've never seen a live circus act before!"

Batman sighs fondly at the boy's youthful exuberance, his gloved hand instinctively raising to scent the boy's neck gland before realizing his own wrist is covered and settling for gently ruffling the pup's hair. "I bet so too. But...I would really appreciate it if you stayed under my cape until I tell you to come out-" He pauses at the disbelieving look on Robin's face, sighing softly in response-"What is it? Why do you look like that?"

"Because you aren't planning to let me ever come out, are you?"

At Batman's silence, Robin pouts further, a frustrated little puppy squeak escaping his throat. "See! Why can't I show them my tricks, B? I know they'd love to see me! Do you know how much people talk about Robin in the news? I'd be a hit!"

Batman takes in the boy's excited face carefully, thinking that maybe he's holding the boy back from something that could be good for him, but he knows his worries aren't unfounded. He remembers when he was just a pup, traumatized from witnessing his parents murder and just as bitter and angry as Richard...which is why he's not comfortable with the pup being in the spotlight, the boy seems to have good days where he's excited and happier than ever before; but then, things are too loud, the media that never ceases to leave Bruce Wayne alone too much for the poor boy to handle...and he's just scared that they'll upset his precious child, that maybe all of this spotlight won't be that great in the end, but what is he to do? He gave Alfred a break today and won't bother the alpha to come and watch his pup when the reasons for it most likely aren't even that serious.

A deep, soothing voice, however, interrupts Batman's thoughts.

"C'mon, Batman. Robin seems to be all for it, so why not let him be in the limelight for a few minutes? He knows you'll keep a good eye on him...and I hope you know that I will too?"

Superman gives a calm, reassuring smile down towards the smaller man, hoping that it's as disarming as he's trying to make it. This whole thing with the Bat is still fairly new, and he's even surprised that the man agreed to doing this with him when the other was so...volatile when they first met, but to be fair, Robin wasn't there when they encountered each other. It seems that the pup really has changed Batman in an unimaginable way.

"Of course he knows that-" a quick glance to his pup-"At least I hope he knows that?" Batman is yet again interrupted by his pup tugging at his cape desperately, "Pleeeease! Pretty pleeeeease? I promise I'll make you look good and-and make sure to smile-oh! Wait--I'll make sure to look grumpy to make you look really, reeeeally serious. And I'll stay close by, and I'll-"

"Okay, okay. You can...go...out there. But! You have to stay behind me when we go out first, okay? I'll make sure to introduce you properly before you do anything, they don't even know that you are here with us."

Robin nods enthusiastically and instinctually hides behind the omega at hearing someone approaching their dressing room, a small but audible knock is heard before one of the PA pokes their head in. "U-Uh...Superman, sir. A-And...Batman, sir. I've been told to come and get you guys, it's almost time for you all to h-head on." The poor beta swallows nervously at Batman's blank, white stare being directed his way. He can't see the man's eyes, but he can feel the icy stare piercing his skin almost painfully, luckily enough, Superman steps in front of the Bat with a bright smile. "Of course, thank you! We'll be right on out."

The beta nods quickly before rushing out of the dressing room, leaving the three heroes alone, Robin snickering softly at Batman's attitude.

"Agent A wouldn't appreciate your lack of manners, B. You were supposed to say, 'thank you very much.' You teach me to say please and thank you, but I never hear you say it...unless it's to Al-Agent A." The displeased grumble coming from Batman makes Robin even more amused, "That's because Agent A deserves said pleases and thank you's...most of the time anyway, though sometimes he gets on my nerves giving his opinion when I never asked for it. I'm surprised I haven't fired him ye-" Robin's 'oooh' cuts him off, even if the pup knows this familiar pattern of Bruce "threatening" to fire Alfred or lessen his pay, the child still likes to cause mischief wherever he can. "I'm telling him what you said! And you can't fire him, he's your daddy!"

Batman softens at the pup's words and-yet again-sighs softly, nodding in agreement of the pup's analysis of his and Alfred's relationship, slipping out a one hundred dollar bill for the pup just in case he really does plan on telling Alfred what was said.

"I won't say anything about my lack of manners or any threats to Agent A as long as you don't?"

Robin takes a moment to think about the question in Batman's tone; a mere proposition for him to not say anything, after all, he knows how scary Alfred's wrath can be. And even if it's not anger, you still don't want to be scolded by the older alpha...it makes you feel guilty for any bad things you've done, however, it's just that: a proposition, a mere suggestion for Robin to decide if he wants to go along with Batman's request or not, and while he may not be business savvy, he's not an idiot and immediately snatches the money and slips it into his own utility belt. "What are you talking about, B?"

The omega smiles down proudly at his pup and the genuine look of innocence written all over the pup's face, "That's my boy-"

Superman clears his throat to get the two Gothamites attention, holding the dressing room door open for the two when they look his way. "We have an interview to show up to...and I don't think we should make them wait any longer, it'd be rude-"

"But Batman isn't rude. He has the greatest manners ever, very nice."

Superman looks amused at Robin keeping up his act, eyeing the boy suspiciously as Batman leads them out the door. "You sure about that? Your answer wasn't swayed by...perhaps, a one hundred dollar bill?"

A small, offended gasp escapes the pup who decided to hide under the black cape anyway. "I don't take bribes, Superman, only cash or credit." The Super snorts at the young boy, not bothering to correct him on how that's what a bribe usually entails is money, instead, choosing to superspeed his way in front of Batman. "Do you want me to head out first? I...know how uncomfortable taking Robin out made you? So, maybe seeing me first might be for the best."

Batman wants to bristle at the taller pointing out his vulnerability...but he's too busy trying to ignore the flutter of his heart at the alpha's thoughtfulness.

"Mm. Fine."

————°————

The directed applause dies down as they come back from a commercial break, the interviewer/talkshow host smiling brightly for the camera. "For the first time in the history of ever we have two very special guests coming out for us today-and I don't mean gay-" the audience erupts into cued laughter-"One is the Golden Child of Metropolis, Superman, who is used to being in the spotlight and having annoying folks like myself poking and prodding at him. Let's give the champion of Krypton a big, but not too big, round of applause! He's still from Metropolis folks."

The crowd gives a more genuine round of applause and laughter this time around, the Gothamites curiously watching the super powered alien exit from the back with watchful eyes, one audience member shouting how they think Gotham Knights is still a better baseball team than whatever forgettable team Metropolis has.

Superman has to hold back from replying about how if his team is so " forgettable", then why did the Gotham Knights lose the World Series two times to them. It really shouldn't bother the Kryptonian as much as it does...but he loves baseball, so sue him for being passionate about it. Instead, he offers the host a thankful smile for having him in Gotham, the woman feeling as though she has to squint to properly look at the alpha. "How is anyone this happy in the morning? I'll never know, but thank you for agreeing to come to Gotham for this interview, Superman."

She pauses as the crowd claps again, her excitement-and nerves-growing at who she has to introduce next.

"Next is someone who I have great respect for and am extremely proud to introduce. This man-or I should say-Bat, is an enigma; a legend and seemingly myth to all who have heard of his great, seemingly impossible, feats. I am very happy-" and nervous goes unsaid-"to introduce our Dark Knight of Gotham, Batman!"

The crowd grows deathly silent as the Bat steps out onto set, the mood changing to one of slight unease and stunned awe as the man's beloved people witness his cape dramatically fanning out on the ground around him like some sort of Gothic wedding train. His stance tall and confident; commanding, as he keeps his eyes trained on the now stupefied TV hostess, each step eerily silent yet so loud to the people watching him walk forward as if he owns the place. The silence deafening as everyone takes a moment to process that the Batman is actually here, "U-Uh, you may seat-I mean, take a seat...i-if you want Batman, you don't need to if you don't...want...to."

The woman messes with her already neat hair nervously, turning to smile at the audience and camera to the best of her abilities. "Uh...a round of applause, please?" It takes a few more seconds before everyone reclaims the basics of their fine motor skills and burst into loud applauses and whistles. 

Batman does his best not to growl at the audience, they aren't doing anything wrong...just being loud and making his protective instincts flair, but he knows it's not them.

It takes everything in the omega to not clear his throat before speaking, if he does, that would most likely be a sign that he is nervous...and just in case any enemies are watching, he can't let them see he's weak, especially with a pup around. He ignores the woman's curious and slightly worried looks as to why he hasn't taken his seat yet, and turns to the audience and camera crew. "Before we begin, I have someone else you should be pleased to meet-" everyone's eyes are immediately drawn towards the small, vibrating lump underneath his cape-"Batman can't go anywhere without his partner, so you better show your appreciation at the new vigilante, Robin."

Everyone in the crowd gasps quietly and excitedly at the small pup that rushes out of the cape and performs a series of difficult flips and tumbles before landing perfectly and bowing.

Robin keeps his head bowed as the crowd cheers loudly and coos at him, rubbing at his chest at the random prickly feeling in it from the noise, before sitting up and smiling cutely. "Thank you! Thank you!" The crowd genuinely giggles at the cute display, no one daring to show the usual Gotham grumpiness towards the Bat's pup.

Batman finally takes his seat next to Superman, the alpha nodding at him proudly for not getting defensive while the omega does everything to ignore that stupid flutter in his stomach from that godforsaken smile.

"O-Oh, wow! This was something completely unexpected, but absolutely welcomed! Another round of applause for our guest heroes on: Shut Up! And Spill That Tea." The hostess relaxes somewhat at the sight of the pup, she admits that the boy is a breath of fresh air in the usual smog of Gotham...and the feeling of the studio, because while Superman is a way friendlier presence than Batman, he still is intimidating in his own way. She finds herself softening at the sight of the pup skipping up to Batman and crawling up onto the alpha's lap, "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Robin. It's very nice to be able to meet such an adorable new face."

The boy smiles at the hostess and waves at her seemingly bashfully while his other hand holds his cheek. "You flatter me, Veronica-I mean, Ms. Veronica. I love your show." Her eyes widen at the fact that the pup watches her program, "Oh...thank you! I didn't know that you watched my show? How do you have time for that with all this crime fighting?" Veronica glances up at Batman to gauge his reaction to her question, sighing softly in relief at his attention placed carefully onto his pup.

Robin pouts at the question, his arms crossing to show his displeasure. "I'm not allowed out every night. B and Agent A say that growing pups need as much rest as possible...even though I try to tell them that I'm old enough to stay up late."

The crowd 'oooh's' and 'ahhh's' at his confession, Veronica perking up at the sudden mention of another name. "I have to say that I agree, you still need your sleep to grow just as strong as Batman. And I'm sure this...Agent A is a good man too if he's working with you both, if I may ask, who is this mysterious agent?" Robin pauses at that, worrying he maybe revealed too much and glances up at Batman quickly to see if he messed up, relaxing into the other when he looks normal enough. "He's a mysterious agent as you said. But back to how I watch your show! I enjoy waking up every morning and watching it! Because B only allows me to fight petty crimes on weekends, I have to get my drama fix every other day."

Even though the boy completely avoided her question, Veronica can't find it in herself to be annoyed like how she'd usually be if anyone else tried it.

"I appreciate you for tuning in! What makes you enjoy my brand of tea spills compared to other shows?"

Robin's smile is mischievous, "I enjoy how you don't hesitate to give your opinion. You aren't a suck up like most other TV hosts when they speak on a topic, and while you talk about things that may or may not be true, you keep it real in your opinion without also being overly cruel."

Veronica makes an impressed noise at how clearly the boy speaks, of course he's still a child...but definitely better spoken than most children she runs into. "Now who's the flatterer-" she smiles and looks at the camera for a minute-"Listen up, folks! This is something completely new and different for a show like this, as many of my viewers know, we talk gossip and scandals here a lot. But, as we are dealing with two men who could easily crush me if I ask the wrong questions, we will go a different route today and just stick with regular schmegular interview questions with...maybe slightly juicier questions thrown in, at least with Superman anyhow."

Veronica turns back towards the two older heroes, her eyes trying not to linger on Batman too long in fear he'll snip at her for admiring his physique a little too closely.

"Alrighty, so, you two have made headlines about a year or two ago with the announcement that Superman was in Gotham. Even better, was the lucky bastard who captured you two together on a rooftop, though some eye witnesses say our Dark Knight wasn't all too welcoming. I-as I'm sure everyone else-would love to know how you two first met and what caused Superman to bother stepping foot in Gotham?"

She leans in expectantly, expecting Superman to cooperate first and easiest.

"Well...If I'm allowed to say this? That wasn't the first time Batman and I met, we met a year prior in Metropolis when he was investigating a crime that involved both Lex Luthor and The Joker. That instance was the first time we were actually captured together, however, and...yeah, Batman wasn't so welcoming of me being here."

Veronica eyes the Kryptonian like a predator with its prey as he keeps drifting his eyes over to look at Batman, the excitement bubbling in her stomach at the almost reverential look the alpha wears on his face. Humming in response to his words, "And how exactly have you come to this point of doing an interview together? No one can get their hands on the Bat...not unless you are as stupid enough to try it like the Rogue Gallery, but I guess Superman can use his powers in many ways, right everyone?"

The audience whoops and wolf whistles at the implications of her words, the Super flushing under the attention and because he would love to use his powers in such a way towards the Bat. 

"Superman isn't as stupid as he appears, Veronica. He'd be a fool to try touching me."

Everyone grows silent again at the Bat talking, a shiver running down everyone's spine at the soothing, yet bone shaking, silky deepness of the man's voice.

Superman's eyebrows twitch at the way the other man says it...he...technically did touch the Bat when he pushed him into the wall with his superspeed, but the man pulled out his greatest weakness in retaliation. However, he still got to touch the Batman! Veronica licks her lips in excitement at the Bat actually participating and saying something, "Of course! So I take that to mean, he has never tried being forceful with you?" It's Robin that responds this time, his voice innocently confused. "Why would they fight? They're friends."

The set descends into a silent chaos as the audience starts whispering about what was just said, Veronica turning her sights back to the pup, deciding she'll try to suck as much information out of him (in a nice way) as possible, because the boy obviously has all the tea to spill.

He's her strongest weapon right now.

"Oh? They are friends, are they?"

Robin nods absentmindedly while crawling around all over Batman, playfully biting the Bat-ears and tugging as he usually does whenever he's near the omega's head.

"Yeah! B came down today because I overheard Superman asking him if he wanted to do this. Batman said no, but I was super excited at the thought of-" Robin yips at Batman's gloved hands gently grabbing his scruff warningly, not enough to hurt obviously, but to get the excited pup to calm down and stop him from saying anything more. Right...he almost exposed how he was excited to see an audience again, that could cause possible questions to anyone listening extremely closely as to who his civilian identity is. "B-eeee..."

Everyone watches as the pup is gently reprimanded, the boy puffing his cheeks out and snuggling up to the Bat immediately after the punishment, his apologetic puppy squeaks filling the room.

Batman huffs fondly at the boy, ignoring the urge to nuzzle into the boy's neck and gently rubbing his back instead. "He heard us talking and begged me to come on this show. I only came because he likes it so much." Veronica swallows nervously at the man looking at her but nods, "T-That's very sweet of you to do this for Robin. Uh...we have to go on a commercial break, but we'll be right back with more hot topics for these three heroes."

Veronica slumps in her seat as soon as they go to commercial, scrubbing a hand carefully down her face and sighing loudly as the pressure slightly lifts from her shoulders.

Her honey brown eyes eye the trio curiously, watching as the pup is given consolation snacks, her manicured nails tapping unconsciously on her desk as she wonders what the boy was about to say and how she can pull more juicy stuff out of the pup without scaring him off. She enjoys juicy gossip as much as any other drama leech, but she doesn't like to make innocent pups cry, especially not Batman's pup.

Veronica closes her eyes as the makeup artist touches up her face with a powder so she doesn't look so greasy, it's not her fault she was starting to sweat under the intimidating glare of Batman.

The shocked gasp escaping from her makeup artist startles the TV hostess out from her thoughts, her mouth hanging open stupidly at the Bat standing in front of her desk. "Robin was looking forward to performing." Veronica is frozen in place at the command in his tone, as though he expects her to open up a spot for the pup to perform. "O-Oh...I was...supposed to ask questions-"

"Your questions are stupid-"

"Batman!"

Superman zips over to the man, his gaze apologetic towards Veronica for the other's rudeness. "I'm sorry about him, it seems he forgot the conversation he had with Robin about manners."

"What conversation?"

Robin speaks up from around his lollipop, looking between Superman and Veronica curiously. "I don't remember that? I do know I mentioned something about B being suuuuper duuuuper polite and well-mannered." The boy turns fully towards the intimidated and fascinated woman, "Can I pretty please do some tricks for you all? I promise you've never seen anyone perform quite like I have! That's why I came today, B said that I would be able to do something."

Batman grumbles, "I never said that."

Veronica looks between the Bat and his pup before conceding to the puppy eyes she knows the boy is making at her.

"Alright, alright, kid. No need to look at me like that. I'm sure we can open up a spot for you as soon as we come back on air, m'kay?" Veronica straightens out her suit jacket as everyone rushes back into place, her lips twitching up in amusement as Batman quietly tells Robin he can't perform with a lollipop in his mouth, her perfectly trained smile returning as the last commercial plays. "I know that we are getting off of our usual schedule, but it seems that Robin would like to perform some lovely tricks for us today. So if we could give him a warm round of applause as he takes the spotlight to let him know how eager we are to see his special tricks he's learned from Batman himself."

Veronica is thankful for the sound crew in this moment and how they don't bother showing irritation if they have any, but choose to play a song for Robin to do his flips to, the crowd clapping along as the music starts and the boy performs on the open floor.

Robin gives a beaming smile as he begins, reveling in the cheers and aww's he receives anytime he does something particularly cool. It feels as though it's been forever since he's done something like this, even though he knows deep down it probably hasn't been horribly long, it feels...freeing to pull stunts like this once more for an exuberant audience, yet also intimidating, he tries his best to push on despite that prickly feeling appearing again in his chest.

His mind flashes back to that horrible night as his body soars through the air, the anxious feeling spreading through him the more he thinks about it.

That fateful night started just like this too, didn't it?

Robin remembers how excited he was to witness his parents perform, recalls how enthusiastic he was to do his own little show, a-and the audience were just as loud and excited as he was too. Their claps and screams filling his ears as he flipped across the stage...yet unlike then, he feels himself falling-falling-falling--

Everyone gasps as Robin lands awkwardly and falls down with a loud cry, everyone's worried murmurs sounding too loud for the pup's sensitive ears, his hands lifting to cover them in hopes he can't hear the horrified shouts of the audience. A dangerous snarl is heard from Batman towards the camera crew and how they focus on Robin, one of them having the audacity to zoom in on the boy's reaction. "Turn the cameras off, now!" Veronica flinches at the command and waves frantically at her crew, disappointment in her gaze towards the one camera man for his carelessness towards the pup.

Luckily the cameras cut off to a commercial break as Robin shouts, "M-Mommy! Daddy!" The mood tense as the pup reaches out to people who aren't even there, "M-Mama!"

Everyone is too stunned to notice how Batman reacts to the last call, a snarl ripping through his throat at the people watching his son like some spectacle as he quickly gathers the puppy into his arms, securely tucking him away under his cape before gliding off set with his trembling bundle.

Superman can't help his own protective glare directed towards the one specific cameraman before super speeding to the dressing room where he can hear Robin struggling to breathe properly, standing guard outside to make sure no one approaches them and keeping his ear out for the two. "C'mon puppy, breathe with me-" a loud whimper from the boy as Batman shushes him-"I know it's hard to, but mama is right here, it's going to be okay--"

Superman's eyes widen at that and he chooses to stop listening in, standing taller with a warning growl as one of the crew passes by.

"You aren't at the circus, baby. You are right here, on the set of Shut Up! And Spill That Tea, your favorite show, yeah? Can you feel my arms around you?" Batman waits for Robin's slow nod, the omega looking around cautiously before taking off his mask to nuzzle the pup, "That's very good. You are doing so well, honey, but I'm still concerned about your breathing. Just...come here-" he gently turns the boy's head so that his ear is resting on his chest-"Listen to my heartbeat and just follow it as best you can. I'm going to count to five when we inhale and count eight with exhaling, okay? Follow along as best you can."

Robin whimpers, his heartbeat too loud in his own ears, yet warring with the calming, steady sound of Bruce's own.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five-" Bruce's voice washes over Richard like calming, gently swaying waters, the pup clinging onto the older man's voice like a lifeline as he slowly starts to breathe normally.

Batman, after a couple minutes of repeating the patterns, ends with his own relieved exhale at the pup's breathing evening out into something normal. "Richard..." His voice croons softly to the child at the tears wetting his suit, "Are you okay?" The boy sniffles and nuzzles into Bruce's neck, sniffling the soft and spicy scent of the omega. "I-I'm sorry, mama. I-I couldn't-you were right! I couldn't handle it a-and I made you look-" he's cut off at the hands that gently grab at his tear stained cheeks.

"Don't even finish that sentence. It's not about how you made me look, I already know how I look, and that's fine with me. This is about you and how you are holding up now...you know I understand what you're going through, don't you?" Richard softens at the reminder that Bruce truly does know how he feels, nodding his head gently as he slumps against his mom. 

"Do I...do I have to go back out there?"

Bruce growls protectively, hugging the boy closely, flashbacks of the media bombarding and overwhelming him when he was this age coming to the forefront of his mind. "Never! You never have to be seen by them if you don't want to. Only when you are ready to."

Robin nods softly, the weight of his stress making him sleepy as he rests his head against Bruce's shoulder, his ears twitching at the sound of Batman's communicator chiming, watching sleepily as the omega slips his mask back on and answers. "Alfred says he's on his way back home with ingredients for some chicken noodle soup, if that sounds pleasing to you?"

Robin hums softly with a small smile on his face, nodding and nuzzling into the man as he clears out their scents from the room before exiting the door.

Superman slumps in relief at seeing Robin look a lot less shaken than before, though there's still some lingering shakiness from the sudden flashback. "Is he okay?" Batman tightens his hold on Robin, his hand gently rubbing up and down the pup's back. "Yes. He's going to be fine, Superman-" the omega curses the unwanted warmth he feels at the alpha showing concern for his pup-"We...have to go though, he's not going back out there after that. I'm so-"

The Kryptonian waves off the apology, "Don't even say that, please. I've never heard you apologize for anything before...and I definitely don't want it to be for something like this-" the alpha looks away nervously, wanting to ask so many questions about what he heard the other man say to Robin, but deciding against it as now's not the time-"U-Um...can I give you both a lift home? My cape will keep you both warm and cozy on the trip to...wherever it is you go to." Batman bounces his child higher, adjusting his hold on the boy as he eyes Superman wearily for the offer, softening slightly at realizing it was just a genuine offer. "No, I have my own ride. Batmobile, remember?"

"Oh! Right...right."

The two heroes stand there awkwardly, the soft sound of Robin's snores managing to cut through the tense air as the alpha and omega focus on the boy.

"I should--You should get him home." 

They pause to stare at each other for speaking at the same time, Batman nodding his head in thanks for Superman's understanding as he heads to the exit, his mouth opening slightly in surprise as the Super holds the door open for him.

"Your hands are full."

With a small hum, Batman exits the building, squinting instinctively at the rare show of sunlight shining down through Gotham's sky, the Batmobile's roof sliding open as he nears it. The omega gently settles the pup into his seat while Superman keeps an eye out for any gossip hungry media, heading over to the driver's side after buckling the child up and hesitating before hopping in, his tone uncharacteristically soft as he addresses the alpha, "Thank you."

Superman feels his heart beat furiously in his chest at the gently whispered words, watching the Batmobile race off before turning his eyes up to the bright sky and smiling, remembering exactly why he's so fond of mornings.

(This is taken from my AO3 account here: Thicc_Personality I just thought I'd cross post it here too as I haven't posted anything in a bit 😂. I hope this is enjoyable to someone? You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[lesbozoid]

I shouldn’t get so worked up about this because it’s something that was written in 2003 but it’s been 21 years and people still praise it so. Elphaba’s ending in the musical is a disservice to her character.

Before I go on with this I have to say I obviously love musical!elphie with all my heart even in act 2 but I think the writing for her during the entirety of it was AWFUL and out of character and I need to sit down with Winnie holzman and Stephen Schwartz and ask them what was up wirh that.

Anyways, the big moment of the whole show is defying gravity. It is a big moment to watch. It is a big moment for the story. It is a big moment for Elphaba. Dg is the moment on the story where she decides that she has to give up her desire of being liked and accepted for the sake of doing the greater good. It is not an easy choice to make, but it’s one that she knows she’s gonna have to own and live by for the rest of her life.

And then comes Wonderful (which I love as a song btw), where Elphaba more or less goes “Geez, I guess fighting against fascism does get pretty tiring? Doesn’t it? I will give up on my fight and join the fascist wizard then! Because I want to be liked and accepted. It’s almost like I didn’t give all of that up for the sake of doing the right thing five years ago!” And only comes back to her senses once it gets personal to her again with Dr Dillamond.

Then, comes the second offender, which is arguably the least worse one but still one that bothers me anyways. The cornfield scene. Not the fighting with Glinda over fiyero, because as much as I hate it, it’s not the worst thing in the world, I guess. It’s the fact that she stands there and lets her new boytoy point a GUN at Glinda and does nothing??? I get they were fighting but that’s still her best friend??? WHY WOULD SHE JUST STAND THERE???

And the worst of all: the end. The fact that she dedicated YEARS to the cause and trying to seek justice for the Animals only to go “Gee whiz I guess I’ve done my time now! I guess now I should just surrender and run away with fiyero and have my happily ever after!” WHY. WOULD. SHE. EVER. DO. THAT.

The beginning of that scene being her begging Chistery to at least try to continue speaking is probably what makes it all worse to me like.. you can see how much she cares. You can see why she’s so dedicated to her cause. And then two minutes later suddenly she’s changed her mind and gives up? To run away with FIYERO?

And I find that argument that she only did that because she somehow knew Glinda would take over so stupid. Glinda hadn’t defeated the wizard yet. She only managed to after Elphaba’s “death” because she realized Elphaba was his daughter. There was no way for Elphaba to know what was actually going to happen once she was gone.

And those shippers will insist that’s a good ending and a happily ever after and that he gets her more than anyone else THE JOKES WRITE THEMSELVES

[sammyluvr]

✶ the object of his affections — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, sunshine!reader, fluff, lawyer!sam, talk of feeling unloved, unedited, 1K words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : in the patch of sunlight cast through a window + “you’re loved.” “but how do you know?” “because i love you.”

you’re not yourself today, that much is apparent to sam as you stand at the window, bathed in early evening sunlight. most days, the soft light on your face would make you smile. you’d look out at the hills and grin at the sight, even if you see them most days. and somehow, your face would become ever brighter when you hear his dress shoes clacking against the marble on the third floor of the courthouse and turn to see that it’s him.

he’s glad to see that you perk up just a bit at the sight of him still. he likes the way your eyes look when they catch the sunlight for a moment as you turn. they look a little sad, maybe run down, today. he’d like to fix that, though he’ll have to pry it out of you somehow. sam has a feeling that quiet you is the complete opposite of your normal talkative self, and it won’t be easy to get you to tell him what’s bothering you.

if only a love confession could lift your spirits; he’s been working up the courage as he’s gotten to know you. he’s a young lawyer, but a skilled one, and you’re working your way up, interning here for the semester. you’re professional when needed, but outside of that you’re sweet and nerdy and always happy to talk his ear off.

right now, your face is missing that bubbly smile he so loves to see, though he can’t deny that your subtler, softer one is quite pretty too. another day, you might bound up to him with news of something from earlier in the day. this time, you let him approach you the whole way, eyes staring back outside by the time he’s leaning against the windowsill. the fabric of his smart, well fitting black blazer brushes against your light blue button up. a little closer, and his shoulder would be pressed right into yours.

“something special out the window today?” he asks, mostly teasing and voice quiet to match your mood. there’s something special standing at the window, that’s for sure. you are very special to him. all four hands resting on the ledge are cast in shadow from the way the sun hangs in the sky, but your faces are lit. he’s not even looking out the window to see what you might be peering at so intently; his eyes are on you. your nose looks pretty in this lighting, he thinks. all of you looks just lovely.

“no,” you murmur, the word almost leaving your lips as a sigh, “nothing special.” your voice falls a little flat, almost as if you’re a bit upset that there isn’t anything special, or maybe that you can’t seem to find anything that feels that way right now.

will it cheer you up if he tells you he’s pretty confident he’s going to win his case? you always seem so happy for him when he succeeds in even the smallest of things. but he frets that you’ll just feel like you have to act glad for his sake, so he thinks he won’t say anything about it until he’s sure you’re feeling better.

his pinky is so close to yours. he wants to touch you, be as near to you as he can, all the time. silence reigns for a few long moments. most people have left the building for the day by now.

“can i tell you something sort of pathetic?” you ask quietly, almost out of the blue if he hadn’t caught the sound of you breathing in before you spoke. he likes the sound of you breathing in. out, too.

“you can tell me anything. i’m sure it’s not pathetic,” he murmurs. the look on your face tells him that you still think that it is.

it takes you another moment or two to feel composed and unashamed enough to actually let it out of your mouth. it’s very soft when you say it, nearly drowned out by the sound of footsteps down the hall. it’s not late enough that everyone’s gone. but sam leans in close, and he has a certain affinity for your voice. his ears tend to filter out all else when you speak.

“i’m having a bit of trouble feeling loved,” you whisper. his heart aches. you’re the most loveable person he knows. but everyone feels that way sometimes, he supposes, including you. he thinks you deserve to never feel that way, though, out of everyone that he knows. “i- i know i am, but i… i’m having a hard time feeling like it right now.” 

besides the pang in his chest, he feels honored you’d tell him something so vulnerable and intimate. “that’s alright,” he says, very gentle. “knowing isn’t the same as feeling, and it’s not your fault if you’re having trouble feeling it.” he knows that sometimes all you need is to hear it from someone else. sometimes you need a reminder from someone other than yourself. so, he tells you, “you’re loved.” he sounds very confident and sure of it. he leans over, the side of his head pressing against the cold glass as he tries to meet your eyes.

those words wash over you, and he’s right that you need to hear them, but you’re still sort of unconvinced. “but how do you know?” you ask, avoiding eye contact. you feel a bit ashamed to ask it, but you’re still in need of reassurance. you expect him to give it through compliments; he knows because you’re nice, you’re pleasant to be around, you’re smart. “because i love you,” he says instead, and frankly it gives you quite the little shock. you finally meet his gaze and there’s no doubt that he really, really means it. the way he looks at you fixes it all. there’s no second guessing whether or not you feel loved in this moment, because his face tells you that he loves with all that he has, and you are the object of his affections.

[kiryoutann]

i wanted to rant about simon.

what do you think so far like what are your actual headcanons for the canon simon vs this simon from this series?

my feelings about the actual simon is quite vague. i've read far more fanfictions than bothering with the actual material so my picture of his is not really...constant? idk

but with this simon, he scares me. just to think about people that can engage in such romantic and sensual acts with little to no feeling involved.

or the mc's father. her dad makes me feel such an anger and injustice that i don't know how to express it and i know we probably won't get a satisfying update on him.

you don't like your wife fine i could understand the distance between them, but how can somebody forget their child no matter if they share the same blood or not, after all the time he raised her

leaving all that behind just to start a whole new life. how can that not eat somebody alive

OHH this is actually a good question. honestly for me, simon is probably one of the hardest character to write about because he doesn't give away too much. too calm. too know-it-all.

we're just gonna talk about the romance aspects!

but based on my head-canon of the canon simon, he has those younger years where he avoids romance, but not this actively and aggressively. it's more because he has too much on his plate (anger management issues, PTSD, depression) than because he think he's not good enough for some happiness (but he also doesn't expect/hope for it.)

canon younger (probably 6-7 years after he killed Roba) Simon lives his life without the need for things to turn out in certain ways. as he gets older (yes, the 2022/2023 ghost) and better mentally, he's become a little more open to the idea, though.

he's still not actively seeking romance, settling on one-nightstands and things that don't require any strings attached. however, he's not completely closed off to the idea too. if he has someone he likes AND TRUST (this is already a high wall to get over), he might act on it. but again, not really actively pursuing it and knows he doesn't need it.

and this might come as a surprise, but he's actually the biggest flirt out there—well, at least when it's only the two of you. when in front of his taskforce, he goes back to acting like he's the calm, collected, cool, stoic, scary lieutenant that everyone knows. can't have you ruin his reputation, right?

"it's private but not secret," with him. though it's not loud PDA, sometimes he lets his hands linger in places like your waist, your hips, shoulders. his love language is act of service, gift giving, physical touch—he makes sure to always appreciate you with compliments and love affirmations, but he's never really a man who's big on words.

WHILE THIS SIMON, hmmm.. he's a bit more complicated. and a mess. at some point, you can think of him as the younger version of canon simon we just talked about to simplify it, but even that's not really accurate considering the different ways they handle "all that sappy stuff" (as simon would say). this one actively and AGGRESIVELY avoids romance.

and while they both (my ver. of canon simon and this simon) sort to flings and one-nightstands, the canon simon is more careful and actually follows the boundaries he draws himself. while this simon outlines the boundaries, follows his rules until an interesting bird enters his orbit, violates them, and destroys them himself before he goes around saying "you read that wrong, darling."

NOW, ABOUT THE FATHER. . .

RIGHT! in my opinion, it's better for them to get a divorce actually and Dad still plays a role in MC's life rather than just leaving her. like, i know it'll still hurt the MC but, at least she can still have both of her parents even though in different houses! at least she doesn't have to feel neglected in her childhood.

okay, you hate someone you thought you would love forever, but abandoning your child? whose very existence was created because of you? talk about the Dad will come up in the sequel. hell, he'll even make an appearance with his two ballet loving new daughters. imagine how MC will feel.

sadly, this happens a lot in real life. fathers leaving and starting a new life without thinking about his "old" family. how people shame single mothers but never the absent fathers. people shame many women who have "daddy issues" or call them "fatherless" yet never call out men's incapability of being a real, PRESENT father.

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter one

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You get some life changing news, and telling Billy doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, angst

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N:

Yay a new series! I’ve been dying to write for Billy again. I hope you guys like this, your comments and support mean the world to me.

When Billy had arrived at Hawkins High for the first time, roaring into the parking lot in his blue Camaro and wearing the tightest jeans known to man, he had caught the attention of every girl in school.

Including you.

You weren’t exactly…popular. Actually, you were considered a freak. Best friends with Eddie Munson and proud member of the Hellfire club, you caught a lot of shit from your classmates. You knew from the second you saw Billy Hargrove that you never had a chance.

You had never been more surprised to be wrong.

You knew Billy had a reputation for going through girls like crazy, sleeping with them and leaving them high and dry. Yet you still found yourself falling for him. And when he approached you and asked you out, you said yes embarrassingly fast.

“Asking you out” ended up being a late night trip to Lover’s Lake, making out before moving into the backseat and letting him fuck you. That might sound crude, but there was no better way to describe it. It certainly wasn’t making love.

Your late night visits with Billy became a regular thing. It was kept quiet - Billy didn’t tell anyone, and he acted like he didn’t know you at school. The only person who knew was Eddie, because he was your best friend in the world and you told him everything. He did not approve, but he wasn’t about to tell you how to live your life. He was just scared you’d get hurt.

Which, of course, you inevitably did. But we’ll get to that.

You held out hope that one day Billy might see you as more than a secret hookup, that he might take you out on an actual date and show you off at school, but you knew those were just dreams. Deep down, you knew Billy was embarrassed to be seen with you. He showed up at Hawkins High and became the most popular guy in school - he wasn’t about to let anyone know he was secretly sleeping with The Freak.

This routine worked out for a while. That is, until you had the realization you had skipped your period while you were throwing your guts up before school one morning. Ice cold fear struck into your heart, and you realized you had really fucked up.

That day you went to school looking nearly as bad as you felt. Carol Perkins giggled as you passed her in the hallway, whispering something to Heather Holloway. You had too much on your mind to care. Billy gave you a strange look when he saw you, but didn’t say anything.

You found Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant at your usual spot in the cafeteria. You walked over and took a seat, not even bothering to get anything to eat because it would just come back up anyway.

Eddie did a double take when he saw you. “Jesus,” he said, taking in your messy hair, bloodshot eyes and melancholy expression. “What happened to you?”

The other guys were deep in conversation about the latest campaign. You leaned closer to Eddie. “I skipped my period. And now I’m getting sick.”

Eddie just blinked at you. He looked like he didnt understand - you saw the moment the realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking down at the table. “Oh, shit.”

“Did you…take a test?” Eddie whispered, leaning in closer to you.

“No.” You picked at a loose string on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I figured I would go to the doctor so I don’t fuck it up.”

Eddie looked around the cafeteria before his eyes landed on you again. “Do you want me to take you?”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “You would do that?”

Eddie smiled. “Well, yeah, of course. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna make you go alone.”

You felt relieved to hear that. This was scary enough without having to go through it all alone. “I don’t know how I would have even made it there by myself without alerting my parents anyway.”

“Eddie Munson chauffeur, at your service,” he said with a bow. You snorted.

“Thanks, Eds.”

That evening after school you rushed home before your parents could get there and picked up the phone. You dialed the number for your primary care doctor’s office with shaking hands and made the appointment, not telling the receptionist over the phone what it was for. You figured you’d deal with that when you got there.

The next day passed in a blur. You looked presentable at least, but you had to leave class twice to go throw up in the bathroom. Billy gave you a concerned look when he saw you in the hallway again, but you ignored him.

After school you met Eddie at his van. He opened the passenger side door for you - “My lady,” he said with a dramatic bow - before jumping in the driver’s seat and starting up the old vehicle. You noticed Billy watching you from his Camaro where he waited for his younger sister.

Eddie blasted music over the radio while you drove. It made you feel better because you weren’t in the mood for conversation. The butterflies in your stomach made you feel like you could throw up again. You took deep breaths as he drove to keep the nausea under control. Eddie always drove like a maniac.

He pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, some older ladies standing by their cars giving you a dirty look as the van tore into the parking lot blasting Metallica. Eddie didn’t notice.

He walked with you into the office, taking a seat in the waiting room while you went to reception to check in. You gave the receptionist your name, and she handed you a clipboard and pen and told you to take a seat.

The questions on the forms were standard. Your personal information, health history, medications, etc. By the time you finished with it, a nurse was opening the door and calling your name. Eddie squeezed your knee before you stood, letting you know he was here for support and would be right where you left him.

The nurse had you do the usual tasks - your weight and height, pee in a cup, and they took some blood samples. You waited in the exam room for the doctor, kicking your feet as you sat on the tall table. You felt more like a child than you had in the past few years.

When the doctor walked in carrying a clipboard and saying your name, you felt like you could throw up for the millionth time. He looked at you solemnly, and you knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“Your pregnancy test came back positive,” he said. “Based on your bloodwork, I would estimate you at about 6 weeks.”

The room spun around you. You suddenly felt way too hot and claustrophobic in this tiny room. You wished you had asked Eddie to come back with you. You felt incredibly dizzy, like you could pass out. This was not happening. It was not happening.

“You’ll need to start taking prenatal vitamins,” he continued, oblivious to your internal panic. “I’ll give you some brochures with information and resources.”

You left the doctor’s office with a handful of pamphlets on pregnancy, birth, babies, and motherhood. Your face was white as a ghost, and Eddie clocked it the second you walked back into the waiting room.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing as you approached him and wrapping you in a tight hug. The tears fell as you buried your face in his chest. He stroked your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out. You’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie helped you walk back out to the van on shaking legs. You couldn’t stop the tears now. Your life was over. Billy was never going to want to stick around for this.

Oh, god. Billy.

You didn’t even want to tell him. It was going to be a disaster. He was already embarrassed for anyone to know you were hooking up, but for the whole school to know he had gotten you pregnant? He would never allow that.

You were on your own.

Fuck.

You wanted to skip school, but your parents weren’t buying the “I’m sick” excuse. Of course it was the one morning you weren’t throwing up everything you’d eaten the night before. You got yourself together as much as you could, dressing yourself in a band tee and your favorite ripped jeans.

Eddie stayed by your side as much as he could at school. He met you in front of the school and walked you inside to your first class. You were grateful for his support.

It was halfway through first period when the nausea hit you again. Your hand shot up, asking “Can I go to the restroom?” and then sprinting out of the room before you even got a response. You barely made it to the bathroom in time, locking yourself in a stall and falling to your knees as you threw up.

When you were done, your eyes were watering. You grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your face, flushing the toilet and standing up shakily. You straightened your clothes and unlocked the stall door, walking out into the bathroom.

Only to see Carol Perkins, of all people.

She gave you a smug smile, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Hope you feel better, Freak.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past her back into the hall, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, the voice in your head telling you this is very, very bad.

You were surprised that nothing seemed to come of it as you moved on to your next classes. By the time you went to lunch, you were wondering if maybe she just kept it to herself for once.

That bubble was popped by Gareth Emerson.

The second you and Eddie placed your trays down at your usual spots, all the boys looked up at you. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant all looked at you with pity, which made your stomach twist into knots.

“…What?” You asked hesitantly, your blood running cold.

Gareth looked at Eddie, then back to you. “Uh…Carol Perkins is telling everyone you’re pregnant.”

If you weren’t already nauseous, you certainly were now. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your hands gripped onto your tray tightly as you tried to focus and calm yourself, but it wasn’t working. Your breaths were coming in shorter, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

The feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing your arm brought you out of it. His rings were cold against your skin, grounding you to reality. Your reality wasn’t that great, though.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“It’s not…true, is it?” Gareth asked, his eyebrows raised.

You burst into tears. You couldn’t help it. You covered your face with your hands, crying your eyes out. This seriously could not be happening like this. You knew it would come out eventually - I mean, you could only hide it for so long - but you weren’t ready for it now. You’d only had one night to wrap your head around it yourself.

“Oh god,” Gareth said. “It is true.”

Eddie pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back and giving Gareth a dirty look over the top of your head. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed into his shirt. “Everyone knows. That means Billy’s heard. The whole school has heard. My life here was shitty enough, this is a whole other level.”

“Wait, Billy?” Gareth said, exchanging a look with Jeff and Grant. “Billy Hargrove?”

Eddie gave him another look. He stroked your hair, the soothing gesture helping to calm your racing heart. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Billy flicked the ash off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. He leaned against his car, talking with Tommy Hagan. He was just about to leave when Carol came walking over, smiling like she knew something they didn’t.

“Hey baby,” Tommy greeted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Have you guys heard?” Carol asked, like she couldn’t wait to say whatever she knew. Billy wasn’t particularly interested, dragging on his cigarette one more time.

Tommy took the bait, however. “About what?”

When it was your name that came out of Carol’s mouth, it grabbed Billy’s attention fully. He glanced up at Carol nonchalantly, but he was listening intently.

“What about that Freak?” Tommy asked with a laugh.

Carol giggled. “She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up in the bathroom during first period.”

Billy felt sick to his stomach. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his boot. “No way that’s true.”

“Why?” Carol asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Billy.

Because you would have told him, right? And he always used a condom. There was no way. “That Freak? No way she’s getting any action.”

Carol and Tommy laughed like Billy had said the funniest thing they’d ever heard. “I don’t know though,” Carol said, “Tina said she’s been running out of class to go to the bathroom all week. She’s definitely knocked up. It’s probably Munson’s. Two freaks in love.” Carol giggled, and Tommy started laughing again.

Billy forced himself to laugh, but nothing was funny. He wanted to throw up himself. “Hey, I left something in my locker. I’ll see you guys later.” He pushed off his car and walked back into the school.

He had to find you. He had to find out what the hell was going on.

You closed your locker as you got the last book you needed for your homework. You had waited until most of your classmates had left, the hallway deserted. The looks from your classmates all day had been enough. You shoved your stuff into your backpack, preparing to leave to meet Eddie at his van.

As you were walking down the hall, the doors opened and you saw Billy walking towards you. You felt like turning and running the other way. As he reached you, he nodded towards an empty classroom.

You thought about ignoring him, about leaving and letting Eddie take you home and maybe transferring schools and never seeing any of these people again. Instead, you followed him into the classroom.

Inside the empty room, Billy was pacing, running his hand through his dirty blonde curls. Your stomach hurt as you closed and locked the door behind you. When you reached him Billy spun on you, his eyes wild.

“Are you pregnant?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not how you wanted him to find out. You thought you’d have more time, time to think about what to say and how exactly to break the news. Fucking Carol Perkins.

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes to look at Billy.

He looked horrified. “You’re- it- it’s…mine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

Billy let out a rush of air. He started combing his fingers through his mullet again, pacing back and forth in front of you. “I- we- there’s just no fucking way. I used a condom every time.”

“Condoms can fail, Billy-“

“Bullshit,” he said. “I mean, yeah, but it’s so rare. There’s…there’s no fucking way you’re- pregnant with my kid.”

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with,” you reminded him, your voice small. You knew you weren’t the only girl he slept with. “And I went to the doctor. They did blood work. I’m definitely…pregnant.” The word was still hard to say.

Billy shook his head. “You- this is fucking insane. I’m not raising some kid.”

Your stomach dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” he breathed out another rush of air. “I’m not doing this. Whatever you want from me, I’m not doing it. I’m not ruining my life to raise a kid.”

The tears welled up in your eyes. “So you’re saying you’re abandoning us.”

Billy scoffed. “‘Abandoning.’ I have more to live for than this. I was gonna…I was gonna get out of here.” He laughed humorlessly. “I was gonna get the fuck out of this shithole town. I was gonna go back to California. I…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’ll give you money for an abortion, I’ll take you to get it, whatever. But I’m not doing this.”

And with that he left, slamming the classroom door behind him and leaving you alone.

The tears really fell then. It was worse than you imagined. You were really all alone in this. Just you…and your baby.

On your own.

tag list

@rincallistis

[atangledfate]

Lanolin wasn't going to let the current situation get in the way of helping the people here at the infirmary. Especially with the short staff and, Getting some help would let Dawn take a break. She clearly needed it. She knew even she had limits and, even if she said she was fine she had a hunch that wasn't true.

" Then get in touch with them and see what can be worked out. I doubt altriss has time to stop caring for his patients to bother, but i'm sure Nurse Dawn can give you what ever you need. If we can get the civilians to safety then i'm willing to deal... there safety is more important then anything right now. "

Dawn gave Lanolin a nod as she eyed the old man, as she still didn't like him or his wife. but they did need help and the mouse had access to files, numbers, and anything else they might need. Plus she could keep an eye on the GUN soldiers and doctors that came in, just in case they were up to no good.

" I can give you what you need, Altriss is swamped right now... unlike me he can't just make copies of himself... he doesn't have time to stop but, i can cover it! guess i'll be earning that overtime pay... "

=============================================

Her carapace was cracked, it was the equivalent to a concussion for anyone else. But her shell acted as an extra layer of protection. It still hurt and made her feel dizzy and nauseated. Though she expected the worst from the Skunks, it seemed they just wanted to get out of this bad situation. Knowing Clutch he probably didn't give them any other choice. She just needed her world to stop spinning for half a second so she could move.

She opted to just relax but knew closing her eyes was probably a bad idea. She gingerly touched the crack and winced, but at least it wasn't to bad. With a bit of tape, and a bandage she was sure it would heal on its own. The real trouble here was just getting out of the rubble and somewhere safe.

" I had a feeling Clutch swindled you both... Vanilla told me she had a talk with you both. I didn't think it would be enough but ... she had faith in both of you "

She spoke in a softer tone, as she leaned against the one holding her to steady herself.

" I came to get you both out of that cell, before something bad happened. I guess i wasn't fast enough..."

She gave them both a glance and was coming to realize that they maybe weren't so bad. A Little rough around the edges, maybe they just needed a guiding hand and a chance to do the right thing. She'd see if that was true, if they meant what they said---and Vanilla seemed to think so.

" GUN has the place surrounded, isn't anywhere for you to run anymore. Isn't anywhere for any of us to run anymore... if we want to make it out of this Crisis... we need to work together. "

She sat herself up but had to lean against the skunk boy just to steady herself.

" So, How about you two just come work for me... until this is over, i'll consider you my personal body guards. I'm starting to think i could use a couple..."

Twist would keep his opinion on Lanolin's comment about G.U.N to himself as there were more important things. "My contact ain't that high up, though they should be high enough to convince letting us move out civilians. That said, they might ask your crew to help out with that so they may let some more in, though that's a guess." The lemur wasn't sure what policy's had changed since he was honorably discharged from his service due to his injury.

"Though they may want to talk to the head doctor to confirm the number of injured as well as being short of staff. As long as they don't mind being drawn away from their work for a minute or two." Twist knew it wasn't as simple as that as if someone was heavily injured then stopping for even a moment could be dangerous. Still, there is a possibility they'll want to talk to the head doctor.

===========================================================

Tumble was a bit surprised when Jewel just, gave up and let herself fall. The skunk was quick to catch her and it was clear she wasn't looking so hot. "I think she has a point bro. She clearly isn't looking so hot." He was holding the beetle has gently as he could, not wanting to make things worse if he could help it.

"Then we just have to be careful and find a med kit somewhere! I'm doing the best I can!" Rough shouted as he finished busting the hole open and made it into the sewer line. "Sorry for shouting, though we're already back in trouble. I swear, we try to go straight like Ms. Vanilla said, though Clutch just kept asking more and more," the skunk said as she slipped into the hole.

"I guess that's true," Tumble said as he walked over to the hole and gentle lower Jewel in first for Rough to carefully grab before jumping down himself. The two skunk brothers starting to walk down. "Yeah, Ms. Vanilla was very strict about that, though we did try. Clutch just wouldn't stop asking us for stuff." They tried to stay on the straight and narrow, though so much for that.

"Stupid opossum getting us into more trouble. Just when we were about to talk to start talking Mamá again and work things out." Rough would beat up Clutch if he could, though a guy like that was too well connected and had way too much security so what choice did they have. "All we did was sign up to be the mascots, not all of this."

[drunkoffsmoke]

Hi I’m back again!And if you don’t mind do you have any more platonic Headcanons but this time for Erwin or Levi as a father figure?

a/n: erm. ermmm. we are not going to talk about how extremely late i am. let's just say i forgot about writing this and hope that you forgive me🙏 decided to write for both as a little treat for being this patient with me. (im 100% sure you forgot about this too).

PAIRING: FATHER FIGURE!LEVI ACKERMAN x GN!READER, FATHER FIGURE!ERWIN SMITH x GN!READER (both separate)

FANDOM: SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN // ATTACK ON TITAN.

GENRE: PLATONIC, FLUFF, HEADCANONS.

! WARNING ! none.

Levi Ackerman.

He knows his job very well, he knows he's bound to serve and protect humanity for the rest of his life. Not like he wants it any other way, somebody needs blood on their hands so others can live peacefully. He'll be the one to bare his teeth.

But one thing he couldn't understand is you. You in general. No matter how many times he shoo's you away or throws snappy remarks, you always seem to be trailing around him like a lost dog. You don't ask for his attention, you just — sit there. Admiring him, even.

He's used to people admiring him. He's Humanity's Strongest Soldier after all, but your admiration is different from the rest. At first he thinks it's love and he was more than prepared to turn down your feelings for him, but then he realized;

It's not the romantic kind of love.

He overhears one of his subordinates talking to another one about you, specifically about how you constantly trail around and the reason why. Turns out your father packed his bags and left when you were young, leaving you and your mother behind with little to no pity.

Suddenly, it all clicks together. The greetings, the constant following, just the desire to be near him likely filled the empty hole in your heart, the hole your father left once he did too.

Truth to be told, he doesn't know how to act, how to think. He can't look at you the same anymore.

He no longer ushers you away. He kind of stopped with the remarks, too. They're still there, but they only come out in order to remind you that you need to do better in training or while on expeditions. Other than that, it's just pure silence.

He doesn't get affectionate in public, but while you two are alone, he might praise you or even pat your shoulder in comfort. His cold heart warms at the happy look you have on your face after he does that.

You might get accepted at the 'big guys' (where Levi and the other superiors sit) table, but it's unlikely. Still, he does glance at you from all the way over there.

Despite all of this, the training isn't easier — it's harder. He makes you do a couple more push-ups than the rest, make you run a few more laps and chooses stronger opponents during sparring. You have to be prepared if he's not with you on a mission, he can't afford to lose you.

He won't admit it, but he's afraid. Deeply afraid of growing too attached, of having to see you die just like the rest. That's the reasoning behind the harsher training. But in the end, your hard efforts are rewarded with a cup of tea he made for you and a few words of affirmation. Levi wasn't one to use many words either way.

Comforting is not his strongest suit, but if anything ever bothers you, he can listen. He can and will be the shoulder you can lean on.

You've never expressed your issues to him, or anyone for that matter — but Levi always seemed to know. Whatever troubled you, he knew. Or at least, had a slight idea. Sometimes he could relate, sometimes he couldn't, but he always cheered you up at the end of your rants with silly jokes.

While on expeditions together, you bet that he will be by your side constantly. If you ever get out of his sight, he'll begin silently panicking and desperately search for you. At the end of the day he won't scold you for leaving his side, but if you end up getting hurt, he'll either blame himself or grow irritated. You knew how to protect yourself and use the ODM gear, he was training you himself — so why is there a big gash in your arm?

He never says it but, he's sorry things have to be harsher with you. He wished he could be at ease more and actually be a decent father figure. It's just not in his nature to be like that.

But you know and understand that. And he's forever grateful for it.

Erwin Smith.

He notices almost instantly — the way you work extra hard whenever he's supervising the training alongside Levi, the way you always greet him and ask about his day, how you always tried to cheer him up after a tough expedition.

You're young, he's old. He knows not to confuse these feelings with romantic ones, so there's really just one option left:

You see him as a father figure.

He's heard of your issues from Levi. It wouldn't affect him if it were any other cadet, but it affected him because it was about you. The lovable and cheerful recruit who was never seen with a frown on their face. I guess it affects him because you're always present in his life, whether it be day or night.

He swore to keep things professional either way, to treat you just like he treats the others, that you're nothing more than a subordinate even with this growing fondness you had for him.

But subconsciously he grew attached. Subconsciously, he gave you soft smiles from across the room whenever your eyes would meet, waved at you and asked about your day whenever you passed by eachother in the hallways.

Much like Levi, he will train you just as hard. He can't risk it. He's getting older and older, who knows how long he'll be able to protect you?

But to his ease, you put up with such exercises and ever surpass his expectations. He can't help but feel proud whenever you return to him after running countless laps with sweat glistening on your skin. He can rest well knowing that you're capable of taking care of yourself.

Unlike with the captain, the conversations with him are always deep and meaningful — either about history or poetry, sometimes even about the unknown. Debates between you two happen often, and he enjoys every one of them because he's getting to know you and your morals better.

He's more prone to showing affection in public and that can sometimes get other recruits jealous. If they make ill-intended comments on your relationship with him, he'll step in and show that it's not their business.

One of his favorite activities with you is play chess. He, almost all the time, is black — that's because he wants to know what your first move is. He needs to know if you're learning from him or not.

Will probably not invite you to the 'big guys' table. He thinks you should spend time with your friends instead of with some old blokes who are also your superiors. But if you have none (you're not the only one) and the others are fine with it, he'll invite you over on small occasions.

Doesn't know how to comfort either, but he will give you his opinion on things that bother you. He'll hold you close as your facade finally breaks down and affectionately rub your back.

Asks Hange about things he could do with you. He wants to spend time with you and fill that gaping hole in your heart because you deserve better.

On expeditions, you will also be under his watchful gaze at all times. Won't panic if you're out of sight, he trusts that you know how to take care of yourself. Is proud whenever you return unscathed, but if luck is not on your side and you wound your leg, he won't be mad nor dissappointed. He'll spend some time with you and get your mind off the expedition, then return to his usual duties.

It's a bit harder for you two to spend a whole day together, mostly because Erwin is a commander and all of the responsibilities are on his shoulders, but those little moments where you just bring him a cup of coffee whenever he's been at his desk for more than two hours and leave right after make him smile.

He's thankful to have you.