#I’m just kidding they wouldn’t do that

[sloaneispunk]

“too sweet for me”

frontman!in-ho x you

when in-ho developed feelings for you in the games, he realised how much older he was compared to you. but age is just a number…right?

๑⋅⋯ ──── ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ──── ⋯⋅๑

after the first games, reality set in. you sat on your bed, trying to scrub the blood off your hands and face. you were practically clawing at your arms, but the blood wouldn’t come off. then, you were approached by a man. ‘player 001’ it said on the jacket.

“you’re hurting yourself like that.” the man said to you, kneeling down by your bed.

“i’m fine.” you gave him a weak smile as you stopped.

“come, let me help.” he took your hand, taking the sleeve of his jacket, gently rubbing the dry blood off of your arm as you watched.

“thank you.” you whispered.

“you’re welcome.” he looked up and smiled. “you have some here…” in-ho licked his thumb, hesitating as if he was asking for permission, when you nodded, he cleaned your cheek.

when he was done, you thanked him once more.

“what’s your name? you look awfully young.” he commented.

“y/n…” you said shyly, making his heart swell.

“i’m young-il, it was nice to meet you.” he said before he got up, but you grabbed his arm.

“wait, i uh, c-can you stay?”

in-ho looked down at you, why would you want him to stay?

“i shouldn’t, i-” then, he heard a group of rowdy boys on the other side of the room, the leader with purple hair picking on a weaker girl. “on second thought, i think i should.”

in-ho stayed with you until lights out, keeping an eye out for thanos’ group and making sure that you were safe from them.

how old were you? definitely much younger than he was, but you were so sweet, so innocent. he loved it.

the next day, in-ho hadn’t slept. he had been too caught up watching you sleep, admiring as every hair fell in place, your chest heaving with every breath you took. he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t approached you with a motive. he knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from going to the bathroom when everyone was asleep to jerk himself off to the thought of you.

“y/n, come, have mine. you need to eat more.” in-ho said sternly, passing you his packet of milk as he ate his breakfast with you.

“why? you should have it.” you rejected him, tossing it back to him.

“you need it more than me.”

“i’m not a kid, young-il.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him causing him to chuckle.

you weren’t. so why did he have the urge to protect you?

then, he heard the voice of gi-hun, he turned around. there his real target was. in-ho brought you along as he made his way to the group, approaching them with a friendly smile.

easily, they welcomed you both with open arms, just like how in-ho knew they would.

“so why did you pick ‘o’?” jung-bae asked, mouth stuffed full.

“oh, i just need more money to pay off my debt…” in-ho started. “… i had a wife and kid but i lost them because of my gambling habits.”

the whole atmosphere of the group fell, everyone didn’t know what to say.

you somehow felt guilty. this man was old enough to be your dad, why were you attracted to him? besides he already has a family outside this place. your heart sank, making you look down at your food as the others continued to talk.

“what about you?” you heared in-ho ask, making your head shoot up. “i’m sure your parents must be worried, why do you want to keep playing?” he pointed to the ‘o’ on your jacket.

“it’s just me.” you replied solemnly, “i don’t really have anyone waiting for me.”

you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring into your soul as you immediately regretted revealing that part of yourself. you mentally slapped yourself, you were being too vulnerable too quickly.

“hey, it’s okay. when we get out of here, we’ll all continue being friends!” jung-bae nudged your arm, making you smile.

“yeah! we’ll all go eat a feast when we get out!” dae-ho agreed.

in-ho didn’t like that idea, and his face didn’t even try to hide it. he didn’t like that you would hang out with anyone other than him.

‘players please proceed to the next game’

you were terrified. after knowing the stakes at hand, you knew it was suicide continuing, but you didn’t have any other choice. in-ho noticed you stiffen, he gave your arm a squeeze, letting you know that he was still there.

when you reached the second game, you learnt that it was going to be played in groups of five. luckily for everyone, your team already had five members.

you took your seats in a line on the floor, awaiting instructions. in-ho sat in front of you, still ensuring that you were sat close to him as the game commenced.

the first two teams took their places at the start line, both eager to win the games. but it was harder than anyone had thought. eventually, neither was able to complete all stations in time. you watched as they were being taken out by the guards, shot down with no remorse.

you instinctively grabbed onto in-ho as you gasped at the gnarly sight in front of you. if you didn’t get your head in the game, that would be you soon enough.

“what are you thinking about?” in-ho questioned when you had failed to answer him, lost deep in your thoughts.

“i’m scared, young-il.”

“nothing will happen to you, i promise.” he replied, ruffling your hair. “stay strong for me.”

you nodded.

when it was your turn, you could feel your legs shaking with every step you took. in-ho was the first to link your arms with his, giving you a subtle smile to calm your nerves.

as the game started, the team made their way to the first station. dae-ho picked up the ddakji, throwing it once, hard onto the ground. by some miracle, the blue envelope had flipped and everyone cheered.

at the second game, jung-bae took the stone from the guard. you shifted closer to in-ho, giving him space to aim. in-ho took the opportunity, pulling you close against him, you were everything at that moment. he could feel the warmth radiating off you, your smell filling his nostrils, making his head dizzy. he barely noticed when everyone cheered once more ehen the stone had been easily knocked down.

then, it was your turn.

“breathe.” in-ho whispered in your ear when he noticed how shaky your hands were.

to his surprise, you had managed to pass within a single try. he cheered you on louder than anyone in the team, moving on the the next game.

even as he spun the spinning top, your arm never left his. maybe it was a good luck charm, because he too was able to spin it on his first try. part of his was relieved because he didn’t embarrass himself in front of you but another was disappointed. in-ho had planned this moment out for so long, he would fail multiple times to keep gi-hun on edge. it was funny how just by having you there he had screwed up his whole plan, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it.

naturally, gi-hun had also made it without having any redo’s. everyone was estatic as they were being led out of the game room, but in-ho was off.

then, he felt a small hand on his shoulder causing him to turn around only to be met with your face.

“are you okay?” you asked as you caught up with him. “we did it, why do you look so down?”

“just surprised i guess.” he said, trying to brush it off.

walking back into the room, you were approached by thanos and his team.

“you goons made it back, huh?” thanos jeered, arms crossed as he looked you up and down.

that didn’t go unnoticed by in-ho. he slapped the boy across the face, shocking him as he gasped dramatically.

“look at me when you’re talking to me.” in-ho spat.

“who are you? is this your boyfriend, girl? isn’t he a bit too old?” thanos laughed. but in-ho didn’t take it lightly, punching him, causing him to fall to the ground as his nose started to bleed.

“young-il, that’s enough.” you stopped him before he could take it further.

with one last look of disgust, in-ho walked off, leaving the boy on the floor.

in-ho might not have realised it but that comment took a toll on him. it made him realise how true his words really were. he was in his 50s and you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right for him to feel how he felt towards you.

“young-il, what happened-”

“go away, y/n. i don’t even know why you care so much.” he raised his voice, pulling his arm away before you could touch him.

you were dumbfounded, taking a step back as your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill.

did that come out too harsh? he hadn’t mean to snap at you, he was just so caught up in everything.

you simply nodded, heading back to the team as he stood there alone, regret overwhelming him as he cursed under his breath.

that night, he couldn’t sleep. how could he? he tossed and turned in his bed, trying to erase your pitiful face from his mind. eventually, he got up, walking towards your bed, but you were gone.

he started to panick, rushing towards the guards, pushing pass them to leave the room. as he practically ran pass the bathroom, he heard soft cries. shit.

he barged in, “y/n? are you here?” you didn’t reply.

he went to the only closed stall and gently knocked, making sure that he didn’t scare you. “y/n, open the door. it’s me.”

“go away.” he heard your muffled voice.

he really did mess up.

“honey, open the door, let me in.” he pleaded.

after a few moments, he heard a click. then, he saw you, sitting on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, your eyes and lips puffy from crying.

“oh, darling.” he cooed, kneeling down, just like how he did when you had first met. “why are you crying?”

you didn’t reply, only gazing up at him with sadness in your eyes. he didn’t need you to tell him what was wrong, he knew.

he sat down, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his chest as he held you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it.” he murmured into your hair. “please don’t cry.”

his heart broke all over again with every tear that fell. he had hurt the only person that didn’t deserve any pain in this place.

what was he going to do? he had never felt this kind of weakness before, he almost felt vulnerable with you. you needed him and he needed you too.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[homebody-nobody]

When a dirty, scared, brutalized teenage girl shows up in my living room, covered in blood, all I can think is ‘this isn’t how I planned on becoming a father.’ 

I recognize her immediately. Petite, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes. It’s Joanie Wyatt, the girl I’ve been hounding with nightmares and chasing through the woods with monsters for the better part of a year, trying in vain to write something my publishers might not immediately hate. I even told Sarah, my wife, that I was ready to start trying for kids, in the stupid and foolish hope that news of a pregnancy might get my agent off my back. That’s how incredibly deep this stubborn procrastination runs.

But now here’s Joanie, screaming at me, dripping blood on the carpet, scaring the dog, and Sarah -- Sarah is laughing. 

“A fucking skinwalker? Really?” Joanie is yelling, and I remember I made her righteous and socially aware. “Do you know how gross and appropriative that is?” I don’t answer. Sarah is still laughing. Kenny -- the dog -- is sniffing Joanie’s ankle. 

“And then to not even -- get the fuck away from me --” she says, shoving my border collie in the chest with her foot. Peripherally, I note that she’s evidently not a dog person, maybe I can use that -- “And then to not even research the culture of the natives who literally inhabited the area you’re writing about but still using their lore as a part of your premise --” 

“Wait,” I say, daring to interrupt, “Are you more pissed about the cultural appropriation, or --” she holds up a hand, stopping me. Sarah snorts, completely overcome. 

“I’m getting there,” Joanie explains. “To not even do the research --” she goes on, “What kind of an asshole writer are you?” I don’t answer. I don’t think I’m supposed to, and at this point, I might be a little terrified of her, honestly. Joanie doesn’t care. She keeps talking. I don’t remember writing her as quite such a spitfire, but maybe that’s what my problem is -- maybe I’m underutilizing her character. Maybe she needs a little bit more agency. 

Moving slowly, I pivot towards my desk, reaching for a notebook as Joanie continues to harangue me for my various sins, including a few egregious continuity errors and killing her childhood best friend at the start of the story. This, I gather, is what the whole monologue has been building towards, because her voice -- if possible -- raises a few more decibels, and she starts gesticulating wildly. 

“Like, what the fuck was that for, Mark?” When she gestures, a piece of viscera flies off her 90s-era denim jacket and hits the painting on the wall with a sickening thwap. “You couldn’t think of any other way to split us apart and then bring the whole gang back together? You just had to kill a fifteen year old girl, huh?” 

My hand pauses mid-sentence, and I look up at her over my reading glasses, realizing she’s expecting a reply. For the first time, Joanie notices the legal pad in my lap. 

“Are you taking fucking notes right now, Mark?” 

Sarah, giggles finally calmed, looks at me from the couch, with that expression she has when I’ve done something wrong. 

“Honey,” she says, disapprovingly. Carefully, as if trying not to spook a frightened animal, I set the notes aside. 

“Not to be disrespectful,” I start. Joanie snorts. 

“We’re way past that, buddy.” 

“But how… exactly… did you get here?” 

Joanie throws her head back and laughs with a kind of dark cynicism I wouldn’t have expected from the shy, diminutive young woman I’d decided she was. 

“Oh!” she cries, “Big man writes inter-dimensional portals into his fucking monster-infested forest and wonders how I ended up in his living room? The great master and creator, everyone!” Joanie mimes looking around, as if to an audience, and claps her hands together, dried blood flaking off her palms and drifting to the floor. Kenny, feeling brave, creeps over to investigate. 

“You’re the one who wrote me with a genius-level IQ, nimrod,” Joanie expresses, shouting once again. “You think I couldn’t figure out how to manipulate the laws of reality in order to end up here?” 

“I honestly didn’t expect that, no,” I say, without really thinking before I speak, which is a bad habit I’m trying to break. Sarah, recognizing it, sucks her teeth in my general direction. 

“Well,” Joanie says, settling her weight back on her heels and propping her hands on her hips. “Then clearly, you’re dumber than you look.” 

“Sweetheart,” my wife says, standing up from the couch. “Would you like to take a shower?” 

Once Joanie is sufficiently occupied in the upstairs bathroom, Sarah comes back down for our requisite hushed argument. 

“What are we going to do with her?” I ask. “Obviously, I have to find some way to get her back in --” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Sarah says, interrupting me. “You’ve been torturing that poor girl for months, and besides, I like her.” 

I reach for her, and Sarah lets me settle my arms around her waist. Holding her is grounding, meditative -- like it makes perfect sense that we’ve got a fictional character of my own invention clogging up the shower drain with monster guts. In the back of my mind, I wonder if Resolve Pet Cleaner will work to get the blood of an eldritch being out of the carpet. 

“Darling,” I say, dropping my forehead to her shoulder. “We can’t just keep her. What will we tell the neighbors?” Sarah reaches up to run her fingers through my hair and I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling. 

“That we adopted,” she answers, like it’s obvious. “We’ve been talking about starting a family for years.” 

“Mm.” 

“Mmhm,” Sarah confirms. Upstairs, the shower shuts off. “I’ll call the school in the morning,” she says, detaching herself from me with a short kiss. “And we’ll get her enrolled.” 

“Sarah --” I start to protest, but my wife only pats me on the shoulder, more than a little patronizing. 

“Think of it this way, darling,” she tells me. “Maybe now you can finish the book!” 

You, a famous horror author, had just seen one of your characters - a young teenage girl - peel herself off the page and appear before you. She’s screaming, your wife is beaming, and this is not how you expected to become a dad.

[steddieas-shegoes]

you and all of your new perspective

for @steddiesongfics using 'new perspective' by noah kahan

also on ao3

rated m | 3,513 words | no cw | tags: rock star eddie munson, good uncle wayne munson, mutual pining, yearning, post-vecna, love confessions, idiots in love, first kiss, implied sexual content, getting together

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

He’s looking down at the letter and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to be normal about Eddie visiting him.

In Hawkins.

Where Eddie swore he’d never come back to the moment he got his ticket out of here.

“Starin’ at it ain’t gonna make him not come,” Wayne says from across the counter. “Surprised he didn’t call ya to tell ya.”

“He…he left a few messages,” Steve explains, setting the letter down and resting his face in his hands. “I just figured he wouldn’t come if I didn’t call him back.”

Wayne raises a brow, gives him a look that Steve’s perfectly familiar with by now. Four years of weekly dinners with a man that’s well aware of your feelings for his nephew leads to some knowing looks and light teasing.

“Only reason he’d ever step foot in this town again is for you and you know that,” Wayne says as he opens another beer. He has three every Friday night, but no longer indulges during the week. Ain’t so young anymore, son, and I gotta stay active to keep up with all your chores, he’d told Steve when he asked. Steve thinks the doctor told him to take it easier. “I don’t think he even told the kids.”

“Don’t see why he would. They’re all over. He’s probably seen them on tour.”

Steve tries not to sound bitter. He woke up in his own bed or whatever the saying is. He can’t blame Eddie for doing exactly what he said he would, following his dreams, getting the hell out of Hawkins the moment he could. The kids did the same, but at least they visited.

“Well, they’ve been houndin’ him to come visit you.”

Steve lifts his head. “They what?”

“They just worry ‘bout ya,” Wayne shrugs. “So do I.”

“I went on a date last week! Robin visited two months ago! I see you every Friday!” Steve stands and starts pacing. “I’m gonna go visit Dustin at school in a month. And Will has his freshman exhibition that we’re all trying to meet up at. It’s not like I’m lonely.”

“Son, I think the only person lonelier than you is Eddie,” Wayne gives him that sad smile he gives whenever they talk about Steve’s social life. It’s like he knows it’s pitiful, and he knows Steve knows it’s pitiful, and he’s making sure Steve knows that he knows. “And he’s stubborn as a mule, but he cares too much about ya to let you suffer.”

“Who said anything about suffering?”

“It’s implied by the way the kids talk about you.”

“How’s that?”

“The word hermit has been used a bunch,” Wayne explains. “Now, I’m gonna finish this beer and you’re gonna stop workin’ yourself up over something that’s still days away.”

Steve rushes over to his calendar, holding up the letter, then checking the calendar.

“He’s gonna be here in three days!” Steve yells. “I can’t be ready by then!”

“What the hell do you need to be ready for? It’s just Eddie,” Wayne is smirking again and Steve’s tired of his teasing, but he’s not gonna say anything because it doesn’t do any good to draw more attention to it. “He ain’t expecting a welcome committee. Maybe a balloon or somethin’; You know he likes the show of it all.”

Steve groans.

He does know. Eddie loves dramatics, that’s what makes him such a good performer on stage. That’s what makes him a great DM.

That’s what made Steve fall in love with him.

“I don’t even know where to get balloons,” Steve says, resting his forehead against the wall.

“The new Wal-Mart should have some,” Wayne pats his shoulder. “We watchin’ the game or standing around havin’ a crisis in your kitchen?”

Steve breathes in. He breathes out.

“I’ll have a crisis tomorrow, I guess.”

“That’s my boy!”

++++

The crisis does come the next day, but this time Wayne isn’t there to make it worse or better. He considers calling Robin, but he knows she’ll just tell him to use his good cologne and try not to be weird. He even thinks about calling Dustin, but immediately shuts that down when he remembers that Dustin is the one who called him a hermit to Eddie’s face.

He finds balloons at the store, and adds streamers to the cart on a whim. He’s sure Eddie will love it. Eddie loves that kind of shit.

He also grabs a pie crust and apples because he remembers Eddie saying how much he loves apple pie with vanilla ice cream one time nearly five years ago.

Okay, maybe it’ll be weird that he remembered that.

He goes to put the apples back when Joyce bumps into him as she’s reaching for a bunch of bananas.

“Sorry honey!” She throws her hands out to catch him, even though she’s the one who almost falls. “I wasn’t paying attention. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, how’re you?” Steve gives her a small smile, trying not to show how panicked he is.

“Sweetie, you look stressed. Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just preparing for a guest,” Steve says, unsure if Eddie’s told anyone else in Hawkins he would be visiting and not wanting to ruin any surprises if he intended on doing that.

He doesn’t even know how long Eddie’s staying; He didn’t say in his letter or voicemails. Wayne hasn’t mentioned it either, which means he probably knows exactly how long he’s staying.

“Oh, is Eddie staying with you?” She asks, brows furrowing. “I assumed he was staying with Wayne. I helped him find an apple pie recipe for his visit.”

Steve looks down at the ingredients in the cart, the evidence of what he’s going to make even more obvious now. Joyce’s gaze follows his and she bites back a knowing smile.

“Ah.”

“Ah?” He asks.

“Uh huh,” she says, nodding. “I would make sure to get the green apples. He likes sour more than sweet when there’s ice cream.”

Steve looks over at the green apples and back at the red apples he was planning on buying. Joyce winks at him before she grabs the bananas and starts to walk away.

“Enjoy the visit!”

Steve doesn’t respond.

He grabs six green apples and shoves them in a plastic produce bag.

He’ll make the damn apple pie and Eddie will love it. Steve will pretend the apple pie isn’t filled with the love he can barely contain for the man, and maybe Eddie will enjoy it and leave as if he never came.

Maybe Steve can make it through this visit with dignity.

****

Eddie shows up at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Technically, it’s 3:03, but Steve wasn’t watching the clock or anything. That would be ridiculous.

He looks just like he always did, just like Steve expected. He’s smiling, and playing with the ends of his curls. Steve is never gonna make it through this visit with dignity.

“Stevie!” Eddie rushes in for a hug, and it should be more awkward than it is. Eddie didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms with Steve. They really only spoke a handful of times over the last few years, and most of those were forced by Wayne or Dustin. But it’s like he never left, like he’s been hugging Steve every day for years.

Steve soaks it up, falls into it and doesn’t care how it looks. If Eddie has a problem with it, he doesn’t say so. He holds Steve tighter, his breath warm against his neck.

Eventually, Steve invites him inside and it does start to feel awkward.

Eddie’s a rock star now, and despite how normal he looks, he’s different. He’s here to see Steve, but is he here out of guilt that it took him this long to visit or because he actually wants to?

Steve talks about work, and his dinners with Wayne, and spends more time than he should explaining Robin’s degree program even though he knows Robin already talked to Eddie when she got accepted. He goes on and on about what everyone else is up to because his life is pretty boring in comparison and he doesn’t want to bore Eddie away.

“Sounds like everyone’s doing good, but I already knew that,” Eddie eventually says when Steve’s rambled for much longer than he planned. “How are you?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Steve says. “Kinda boring around here, honestly. How’s the tour been?”

Eddie laughs and Steve tries not to let it hurt. He doesn’t think he means it in the way Steve’s taking it and that’s a Steve problem, not an Eddie problem.

“I called you 37 times,” Eddie says instead of answering him. “Every city we had a show. The first few I figured you were just busy or asleep. I didn’t think about time zones. But then I started to realize you were avoiding me.”

He isn’t mad, or at least he doesn’t look mad, but Steve feels like he needs to apologize anyway.

“Yeah, sorry. After a while, it kinda…”

“Seemed worse to call since it was so long?” Eddie asks, small smile falling from his face when Steve nods. “It’s never a bad thing to hear from friends, though. You could’ve called the bus phone anytime. Left a message. We got an answering machine because Gareth’s mom always calls when we’re on stage.”

“Right. Good to know,” Steve says. Which, it is good to know, but he doesn’t plan on calling unless there’s an emergency. He can’t look as desperate as he feels and if he calls once, he’ll call twice, and then a hundred times. “What city was your favorite so far?”

Eddie tilts his head, looks him over for a moment before responding. “I liked Boston. All the kids were front row. Except El, she somehow got backstage. Still not sure how. Missed you, though.”

Steve feels his face heat up at the words. Eddie always said things in a flirty way, even though he doesn’t really mean it that way. Steve can’t let himself think that he means it that way.

“It’s a pretty big trip, so. I couldn’t miss work.”

It’s a shit excuse because he absolutely could miss work. It’s a grocery store in a small town, and he doesn’t care that much about it.

“They couldn’t find someone to cover a couple days for you?” Eddie sounds hurt now, and Steve can’t let him think that he’s the problem.

“I didn’t ask. I-” Steve has to be brave now. Wayne’s voice is in his head telling him to just tell Eddie why he’s been so distant, why he hasn’t been the one to reach out. “I was scared to go.”

This seems to throw Eddie off balance. His eyes squint and forehead wrinkles adorably as he tries to do mental gymnastics to find out why Steve of all people would be scared to visit him. Steve is known for throwing himself in the line of fire, being the first one to step in when everyone else is scared. Too bad this type of courage is different.

“Are you scared of flying? I didn’t know, maybe we could have figured out a hired car.”

“No, I don’t mind flying,” Steve admits.

“Then…why were you scared?”

“Because if I let you in, you’ll see how much I miss you and if you see how much I miss you, you’ll see how much I love you. And then you’d never wanna have me around and it would be just like everyone else I love who leaves because I’m not enough to keep them around,” Steve lays his head back against the couch. The Wayne voice in his head is suspiciously quiet.

So is Eddie.

Steve isn’t going to talk anymore; He’s said enough.

Eddie’s hand covers Steve’s. It’s warm and surprisingly soft, and bigger than Steve’s. He never realized that before, not even when he held his hand while he was in the hospital after Vecna or when he watched him play guitar for hours while he was trying to gain his confidence back.

“People don’t leave because you aren’t enough, Steve. They leave because the world is big and they want to be a part of it. Everyone wants you to do that, too,” Eddie says softly, carefully. “I think most of the kids hoped you’d leave Hawkins once they did. Dustin thought you’d come on tour with me.”

“Why would he think that?” Steve doesn’t remember ever having a conversation with Dustin that would make him think that, but his memory isn’t the best.

Eddie’s lips curl up into a smile and he leans forward.

“You know you’re incredibly obvious, right?” Eddie whispers even though they’re alone and there’s no need to be quiet. “You’ve always been easy to read.”

“What does that mean? Read what?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s been right there with Eddie written across it since I was in the hospital, sweetheart.” Eddie points to Steve’s arm. He looks down as if he would be able to see the heart Eddie’s talking about. “You’re an open book.”

The timer in the kitchen goes off and Steve jumps up. He rushes to the oven, grateful for the distraction.

“Is that apple pie?” Eddie asks from a few feet away. Steve really should’ve known he would follow him.

“Yes, it’s gotta be perfect.”

“You made apple pie for me?”

Eddie’s right behind him now, and when he turns, there’s no space between them at all. Steve smells the airport on him, the rental car, the cologne he’s worn since Steve bought it for him before he left Hawkins.

He looks up and sees the years that have passed in smile lines on Eddie’s face, in a single gray hair that Eddie’s probably keeping because it makes him look cool. Steve hasn’t found any gray hairs yet, but he’s only 25. Eddie always said Wayne went completely gray by 30, so his genetics wouldn’t be as kind to him. Steve kinda hopes he’s right. Eddie would be beautiful with gray curls.

“Just like I said: heart on your sleeve,” Eddie whispers, leaning in until his lips are just barely brushing against Steve’s.

He’s waiting for Steve, to see if he’ll finally give in after years of near-silence, after whatever flirty and semi-codependent friendship they had before Eddie left to be a rock star.

Steve’s spent enough time waiting, and he thinks Eddie probably has, too.

His lips press against Eddie’s, sure of their movements despite the anxiety crawling through his chest and the unfamiliar taste of him on his tongue.

It’s full of hunger even though it only lasts a few seconds. Steve’s wanted this, wanted him, for so long, he puts everything he has into this moment. If it’s all he gets, he wants it to be perfect.

“You’re kissing me like you’re sending me off to war,” Eddie says when they’ve caught their breath.

“Feels like I am,” Steve admits, corner of his mouth turning up in a sad smile. “At least a little.”

“I think the odds of me dying on stage are probably extremely slim,” Eddie laughs. Steve doesn’t laugh with him. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

Steve pulls himself away, ignoring the way his chest aches at the separation. He’ll have to get used to that when Eddie leaves.

“You have a whole new life. You’re a rock star, Ed. I can’t force my feelings on you now.”

“Who said you forced anything on me?”

“I made you apple pie!” Steve exclaims, pulling away so he can breathe again. Having Eddie in his space alters his brain chemistry, maybe his DNA. “I bought all your favorite things so I could try to convince you I’m worth staying for, even though I can’t compare to going on a world tour with your band. I cleaned out the guest room and made sure I put your favorite shampoo in the shower as if you would even notice that. As if it would be enough to keep you around.”

Eddie steps closer, but Steve steps back.

“Your life is different now. It’s good. I wouldn’t add anything to it, and I don’t know why I even tried to make it seem like I would.”

Eddie steps closer, and there’s nowhere for Steve to go. He’s boxed in against the counter, and Eddie’s face is red with anger. He’s not scared– he could never be scared of Eddie– but he does swallow around a lump in his throat and try to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“My life is different now, you’re right about that. My life doesn’t even feel like mine most days. I belong to fans, and the guys, and the record label. But you know what does feel like mine?” Eddie leans in close enough that his breath is hot against Steve’s face. “How much I love you. How much I have always loved you. You’ve always felt like mine, Steve.”

It’s a hell of a confession, and definitely not what Steve expected from this visit.

The Wayne voice in his head decides to speak again. Except this time, it’s something he’s said to Steve in person before.

He’s surrounded by people, but he seems pretty lonely. Kinda like he still needs a certain someone.

Steve’s brows crinkle as he thinks about the words Wayne said after a phone call with Eddie during the first part of his first tour nearly two years ago. The words were accompanied by a look that Steve has since come to recognize as his sad puppy look.

The same one Eddie’s giving him now.

Steve can’t help it; He laughs.

“You and Wayne could bottle that look and sell it to people who need someone to feel bad for ‘em,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cheek in his palm, rubs his thumb against the angry red that turns into a flushed pink. “I don’t know how you could love me-”

“Steve-”

“But!” Steve interrupts. “I know you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have taken the time to come back here at all, let alone stay with me. I won’t understand it, but I’ll believe it.”

“That was easier than Wayne said it would be,” Eddie’s smile grows slowly, lighting up his face and the room.

“He’s been buttering me up for years,” Steve shrugs.

“Doing all the hard work, more like,” Eddie leans forward, rests his forehead against Steve’s. “He must’ve been sick of hearing me yearn for your love.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, you could have come back sooner. You didn’t have to wait until I was convinced I’d be alone forever.”

“And you could have called me to let me know I could visit sooner.” Eddie pokes the tip of his nose with his finger, smirking as he leans away to look back at the apple pie on the oven. “Especially if I could’ve been having apple pie on every break.”

“It might not even be good,” Steve says as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Is there vanilla ice cream?” Eddie pecks his lips.

“Mhm,” Steve kisses his cheek. “And you can have some if you promise to sit down and tell me everything about the band.”

“You wanna waste time hearing about Gareth drooling over every woman who looks his way? We could be making love on the couch.”

Steve raises a brow. “We won’t be making love anywhere but my bed. And it won’t be until we’ve talked more.”

“Fiiiine,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but grabs for the pie cutter on the counter. “Cut me a piece of pie and I’ll do my best to resist taking all your clothes off.”

“I never said you couldn’t do that,” Steve grabs the pie cutter.

“So I can take your clothes off?”

“Shirt only. And after pie…we’ll talk.”

“I thought after pie we’d be done talking.”

“How long are you staying?” Steve asks as he puts the slice of pie onto the plate and hands it to Eddie.

“Four days.”

Steve tilts his head side to side, considering what he can accomplish in four days.

In any other situation, he might be worried about how quickly he throws off his shirt. In any other situation, he would probably insist on talking to Robin before throwing his heart on the plate next to the scoop of ice cream Eddie just put next to his steaming slice of pie. In any other situation, he would take things slow and get to know rock star Eddie who left Hawkins to be someone.

But he’s finding that he’s okay with speed-running things.

He’s got a new perspective on Eddie’s visit, and maybe a new perspective on what their future will look like.

Steve drops his pants. Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Eat your pie. We’ll talk while we make love on the couch.”

[luveline]

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

[scoupsakakitty]

Hiii can i request something like this mingyu's story, so basically a oneshot maybe longer oneshot 🛐🛐🛐 so yeah they meet again maybe mingyu recognize her but she doesn't recognized him until mingyu told her so yeah and the story continues HAHAHAHA

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6QD4gYn/

Childhood Love | idol!Mingyu x Reader | fluff

The sound of chatter and laughter filled the café as Y/N walked in, her fingers brushing against the strap of her bag. It had been a long day, and she needed a moment to relax. She ordered her usual latte and scanned the room for an empty table.

At the corner of the café, Kim Mingyu froze mid-sip of his Americano. His eyes widened as he watched her. It had been over a decade, but he would recognize her anywhere. The confident posture, the thoughtful way she glanced around it was all the same.

“Y/N…” he whispered to himself, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his lips.

He thought he’d forgotten about her. Life had moved on, and so had he debuting with Seventeen, countless schedules, and fame that had taken him far from the quiet town where they’d first met. But there she was, the girl who had stolen his nine-year-old heart without even knowing it.

Mingyu hadn’t planned to approach her at first. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Maybe she wouldn’t remember him. But as fate would have it, Y/N ended up taking a seat just a table away from his.

“Mingyu, don’t overthink it,” he muttered under his breath, taking another sip of his coffee for courage.

He finally stood up and walked over, clearing his throat softly. “Excuse me, but… is your name Y/N?”

Y/N looked up, slightly startled. Her eyes met his, and she tilted her head, studying his face. “Yes, that’s me. Have we met before?”

Mingyu chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It’s been a long time. I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. We were in the same class in elementary school.”

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to place him. “Kim Mingyu… Wait, were you the tall kid who always forgot his homework?”

He laughed, a deep, familiar sound that tugged at something in her memory. “Guilty. And you were the class president who always reminded me to turn it in.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my God, Mingyu! I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” he said with a grin, taking a seat across from her without asking. “It’s really been that long, hasn’t it?”

She nodded, still processing the sudden reunion. “It has. I think the last time I saw you was… when I transferred schools? I was, what, nine?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said softly. “You just disappeared one day. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a wave of nostalgia settling between them. Y/N smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about that. It all happened so quickly. My parents decided to move, and before I knew it, I was in a new school.”

“I figured as much,” Mingyu said. “But I always wondered how you were doing.”

Over the next hour, they caught up, sharing stories of what had happened since those childhood days. Y/N talked about her career, her hobbies, and how much she missed the simpler days of childhood. Mingyu, on the other hand, hesitated to bring up his fame.

“So, what do you do now?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Mingyu shifted in his seat, a sheepish smile on his face. “Well… I’m in a group. A K-pop group, actually. Seventeen.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Wait, the Seventeen? You’re kidding.”

He laughed. “Nope. That’s me. I guess I grew up a bit from the kid who couldn’t even remember his homework.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you right away. I’ve seen your posters everywhere.”

“You didn’t recognize me because I don’t look like the nine-year-old kid you used to boss around,” Mingyu teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

She laughed, and the sound sent a rush of warmth through him. He had missed this missed her.

As the conversation continued, Mingyu found himself unable to hold back any longer. There was something he had to say, something he had carried with him for years.

“Y/N,” he began, his tone more serious now. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” she said, leaning in slightly.

“When we were kids… I had the biggest crush on you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and a soft blush crept up her cheeks. “You did?”

He nodded, his smile turning a bit shy. “Yeah. You were always so smart and confident. You didn’t even notice me half the time, but I thought you were amazing.”

Y/N blinked, a mix of emotions flashing across her face. “I had no idea.”

“I figured,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “You were focused on being the perfect class president. And then you left, and I never got the chance to tell you. But now that you’re here… I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

Y/N smiled warmly, her gaze softening. “Mingyu, that’s really sweet. I’m sorry I was too busy being bossy to notice back then.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he said, though his heart raced as he looked at her. “But maybe… we could make up for lost time now?”

Her smile widened, and she nodded. “I’d like that.”

As they left the café together, Mingyu couldn’t help but feel like fate had given him a second chance. The childhood crush he thought he’d lost forever was now walking beside him, and this time, he wasn’t going to let her slip away.

————————————————————————————-

[badgerflavored-fruitloop]

I’ve been a fan of Danny Phantom since like I was alive. I was born 2002, show came out 2004, so I never got to enjoy it until consciousness hit me and I started joining in on fandom activities in 2013ish.

I have ALWAYS either made art, talked about fan theories, or just interacted with the fandom. From my experience alone, it’s the oldest fandom I’ve been a part of, considering it’ll turn 21 this year in April, which speaking of, we’ll promptly have a takeover like we do every year for the shows (d)anniversary

This wouldn’t be possible without people still posting to the fandom space. We wouldn’t have memes in this fandom or a fandom PERIOD if we just. Stopped posting the year after it came out. The reason why newer fandoms die out is because when kids got trapped indoors in 2020, they latched onto whatever was popular and thought “okay, gotta keep with the times. I shouldn’t like this thing anymore because there’s no content for it”. I’m not saying it’s wrong, as it’s just a result of what happened during the pandemic. But we NEED to normalize that you can stay in a fandom long after it’s dead or inactive. You can stay in a fandom space even if it’s not popular anymore. You can stay with fans even if your friends have moved onto something new. It’s OKAY to still like something a year, five years, or even a whole two decades after it’s been released

I see a lot of kids nowadays saying how they wished they were online when Gravity Falls was big or Voltron was popular and how they would’ve loved to be part of the fandom space, despite all their flaws, but it wouldn’t have been possible without people still posting as they waited for the next season, or people posting about their fan theories, or even just posting about shipping. I wanna say to that younger audience:

Someday, YOU will be part of that original fandom. Mouthwashing, Dandy’s World, etc. someday, YOU will hear from 9 and 12 year olds online that they wish they were part of that fandom space but now they have this show and that show and “the fandom doesn’t feel like those older nostalgic shows :(“ it is your job, as part of the youth, to keep your fandom alive. Post videos. Make art. Make fanfic. Do it months or even years after the show lost all popularity. Do it even if the creator is a POS (look at how the fans of Danny Phantom and Harry Potter are doing without acknowledging their media’s creator). Do it even if the show got canceled or ended. Just create and keep fandom spaces alive. YOU are responsible. Make it even if it’s bad.

Ask yourself this: How can you keep food on the table if you don’t go to the store and get it?

"Imagine still posting fanart a whole year after the game came out" brother what are you talking about

[cleverpapershepherdsludge]

Now normally I go for fluff, but I saw this fic where Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman get hit with something that makes them loose their inhibitions. And everyone is like “oh no, Batman is gonna blow up Arkham.” But he’s just a really good father who wants to hug his kids.

I want something similar but where nightwing is in the JL and gets hit with that stuff and all of the anger he represses and controls come out. Like Bruce made him a vigilante so that he wouldn’t murder his parent’s killer. I think if Dick got hit he would just hunt down the joker for what he did to Jason. So the whole JL is like “he’s gonna be even sweeter and give lots of hugs and joke around” and Batman is like “oh no. He needs to be on lockdown”. And then the JL is baffled when his concern is proven worthwhile.

Bonus points if dick says “I’m going to do what you should’ve done years ago” to Bruce!

[i-dared-myself]

Wrong Assumptions

In which Stray Kids jump to dumb conclusions about their ninth member

You carry the pile of your old clothes across the living room before dumping them into a bag. Your phone is pressed up to your ear, resting on your shoulder.

“I don’t know where to find any maternity clothes!” you mutter to your sister, who’s on the other side of the call. When she begins to whine, you cut her off. “Hey! Don’t complain to me!”

You walk past Chan on your way back to your room, bag hanging from your arm. Your sister goes on about how her partner refused to take her shopping because they had to work.

“I’m not going with you. You have terrible taste,” you tease. You smile as you listen to her beg. “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t tell mom about any of this.”

“Right.” Your sister sighs. “You should just go shopping with her one day. It’s a bonding experience for her.”

“But then she’ll be all controlling.” You shake your head, taking your phone in your hand now. “I have my own opinions.”

Felix smiles at you as you pass his room. He usually keeps his door open, unless he’s not in the mood for socializing. You return the grin as your sister rambles on and on about the food cravings and such.

“At least no more periods for a while,” you tell her, trying to cheer her up. Jisung slides past, using his socks on the hardwood floors to go further.

“At least,” your sister mildly says. “Are you coming for my baby shower?”

“Baby shower?” You frown. You hate to disappoint her, but… “Sorry. I have recording that day. Mom has my gift, though.”

You hear something in the background before she says her goodbyes. You throw your phone down on your bed and rub at your face tiredly.

A long day of recording the next day meant you needed to get up early for makeup and styling, which meant you needed to go to bed earlier, and-

“Hi.” Jeongin pokes his head into your room. “Wanna steal Changbin’s clothes and swap them with identical ones that are bigger?”

“Sorry. Can’t.” You grab your keys and hold up the bag of old clothes. “I have to go shopping and deal with this.”

“What’s that?” Jeongin motions to the bag curiously.

“Old clothes that aren’t gonna fit soon.” You scowl at it in frustration. The stupid music video that was coming in a couple months had a scene that required you to do some exercises. Which meant you were gonna get as buff as Changbin and the clothes wouldn’t fit you anymore.

Obviously.

“Oh, okay.” Jeongin seems slightly confused as he leaves you alone.

You stuff your phone and your keys into your purse. You make sure to bring a mask and a hat with you, not wanting to be recognized in public. Not that there would be a lot of people at the store your sister had picked out.

“I’m going out!” you yell as you walk to the front door. “I’ll be back to cook dinner, you idiots!”

“You’re the bigger idiot!” Seungmin shouts from wherever he is. You snort as you leave the apartment, unaware of the chaos that is about to unfold in your absence.

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

“Hey…” Jeongin sheepishly says, standing in the doorway to Chan’s room. “You busy?”

“Never too busy for you guys.” Chan puts his headphones down next to his laptop. “What’s up?”

“She was throwing out some clothes because she said it wouldn’t fit soon.” Jeongin enters the room and sits on the bed next to Chan. Chan hums, a signal for him to continue. “Is the company making her go on a diet or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Chan frowns and taps his thigh. “I was pretty sure I convinced the company to leave us alone with those.”

Jisung grins awkwardly as he steps into Chan’s room. “What’s going on?”

“What is it?” Chan looks up at him expectantly. Jisung is sporting that expression which means he’s worried about something.

“I heard her say something about a baby shower. Do we have to do that for a video? Because I really don’t want to.” Jisung rolls his eyes and shifts his weight between legs.

“Nope.” Chan leans back against the wall pressed against his bed. “No baby showers. Did you catch exactly what she said about it?”

“No, just the words baby shower and gift.” Jisung settles next to Jeongin. “Oh! And something about no more periods.”

“Wait, you can do that?” Jeongin puts his head in Jisung’s lap. Jisung automatically begins to run his fingers through his hair. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“No, unless it’s menopause or you get-“ Chan cuts himself off. His face drains of colour. “Oh no.”

“What?” Jisung demands. “Tell me!”

Jeongin pouts. “And me!”

“Or unless you get pregnant,” Chan slowly says. His face is a dull grey colour. “I heard her say something about maternity clothes.”

“Do you think she’s-“ Jisung begins to laugh nervously. “No way, right?”

Jeongin sits up suddenly. He gives the other two a wide-eyed look of panic. “That could be why she was throwing her clothes away!”

“Get the others in here. Now,” Chan orders as he starts to Google pregnancy side effects.

Jisung and Jeongin bolt away, quickly gathering the other five members. They’re mostly confused as they wander in, having only gotten the quick version of the story.

“This says a side effect is frequent urination!” Chan hisses out as he reads off his laptop. “She had us pause the movie last night so she could go pee!”

“She’s totally pregnant.” Jisung falls to his knees and claws at his hair. “No!”

“Who’s pregnant?” Hyunjin says before he recoils and gags. “Wait! Is it her? Please tell me it isn’t.”

“It is,” Jeongin grimly says. “She’s been knocked up by some bastard!”

“I fucking knew it!” Minho announces. “I knew she was pregnant!”

“Why?” Felix facepalms. “Why did you know?”

“She went to bed early last night! Pregnant people are tired a lot!” Minho grimaces. 

“We’re Stray Kids!” Changbin exclaims. “We can’t have an actual kid!”

Seungmin clears his throat. “Who’s the father?” 

“We have no idea.” Chan shakes his head. “Quick! Everyone think about who she’s dated recently!”

“No one!” Seungmin snaps. “She’s an idol! How would she have had the time and privacy for a relationship!”

“It was a random hookup!” Felix yanks Jisung back up to his feet. “But still… she hasn’t left the dorms at night ever…”

“Unless…” Minho looks around, eyes narrowing in suspicion, “it was one of us.”

Chan throws his hands up to intervene. “It wasn’t! None of us would be unprofessional like that!”

Felix nods. “Yes. We’re all professional professionals here.”

Changbin raises his hand. “I say we find the father, and beat him up for this.”

Chan pinches the bridge is his nose. “Well we don’t know who the father is!”

“Hey!” Jisung places his hands on her hips. “Who says it’s a father? It could be a mother! Be inclusive!”

“He’s right.” Seungmin smirks at the vein throbbing on Chan’s temple. “Jeez, I knew you were old, I just didn’t know you were that old.”

Hyunjin clears his throat. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not raising that kid. It’s not my problem.”

“Be supportive!” Jeongin lectures. His lips tug down in disappointment. “We’ll all adopt it and treat it as our own.”

“So… All of our sperm fathered this kid?” Felix scratches at the back of his neck. “What kind of freak is this kid gonna come out as?”

“No,” Jeongin scolds, “you don’t understand! It’s not biologically our kid! We’ll just pretend it is!”

“So it’ll have nine dads,” Seungmin points out. 

Minho curls his upper lip. “I’m not marrying any of you. I don’t want in on whatever orgy freak show this is.”

Chan’s face is promptly buried in his hands. His shoulder shake as he silently cries. “Minho… No…”

Hyunjin puffs out his chest. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

“Not it for diapers!” Jisung’s hand shoots up. The others all mimic him until Chan is remaining.

Chan ignores him. “We all need to show her that she’s supported. We love her and-“

“Are we going to have to dissolve the band?” Changbin realizes. “This is so scandalous I feel like I’m in one of those dramas she always watches.”

“Exactly!” Felix snaps his fingers. “We have to think like those shows! What would they do in them?”

Jisung hums in thought. “Oh! They would all live in the country side as their happily ever after! They’d be successful and normal and-“

“This isn’t normal,” Hyunjin reminds him. “And I’m not doing any farming.”

“Bitcoin,” Seungmin seriously says. 

“What?” Jeongin glances over at him. His eyebrows pull together. 

“We harvest bitcoin, make millions, and raise the kid with that.” Seungmin nods victoriously. “Problem solved.”

“Or we just get normal jobs,” Chan counters. “Like in an office. Or we go solo.”

Minho frowns. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell us she was pregnant.”

“I know!” Jisung groans. “Like, if I got pregnant you guys would be the first ones I told.”

“You can’t get pregnant.” Changbin deadpans. 

“Yeah, so don’t go around trying to understand her!” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “You don’t understand what she’s going through!”

“I support pegging,” Jisung randomly says.

Felix blinks. “What?”

“Huh?” Jisung stares at him.

Felix and Jisung hold eye contact for a minute before Chan redirects the group’s attention.

“No one tell her we know!” he urgently tells them. “If she hasn’t said anything yet, there could be a reason.”

The door opens before slamming shut. You’re home.

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

You put your phone down on the counter. “Guys! I’m home! And I picked up food since I’m too lazy to cook tonight!”

They all wander into the kitchen, apprehensive. Some of them seem pale, while others are on the verge of tears.

“What happened?” you worriedly ask. 

Chan sighs, looking to the others. “Nothing.”

“Really?” You cross your arms. “You’re not gonna tell me?”

Jeongin breaks first.

“We love you and care about you!” he cries out. “Just tell us who the father is so we can go deal with him!”

You blink in surprise, putting the takeout bags on the table. “What?”

“Who is the father to your child?” Changbin demands.

“Uh… Park Seonghwa?” You begin to unpack the bags. “What’s happening?”

“That motherfucker!” Minho spits before running out the door.

“What are you-“ You watch as Jisung chases after him. “Guys, someone catch me up on what I missed.”

“We know you’re pregnant.” Chan shakes his head in exasperation at the door. “How did Park Seonghwa end up… Y’know?”

“Oh my gosh!” You cover your mouth with your hands. “I was just being hopeful! He didn’t- We didn’t actually! I’ve never even met him! I’m not pregnant!”

Felix purses his lips. “Oops.”

“Why did you think I was pregnant?” You face them all with a fierce scowl. 

“You threw out some of your clothes!” Changbin defensively says. “You said it wouldn’t fit soon!”

“Because I’m gonna start working out and getting buff!” You throw your arms up into the air. “Remember?”

Chan says your name slowly before standing up. “It’s for your weak wrist! You’re doing physical therapy exercises!”

You run your tongue over your teeth. “Oh.”

“Whose baby shower is it, then?” Jeongin asks. 

“My sister’s,” you answer, continuing to bring out the food. “She’s pregnant.”

“Uh…” Changbin coughs. “Minho and Jisung went to go hunt thay guy down.”

“They probably don’t even know who he is,” you breezily say. “He’s fine.”

“I never thought she was pregnant,” Seungmin reveals. “She told me about her sister like a week ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that?” Felix rounds on him furiously.

Seungmin shrugs casually. “I thought it was funny.”

You turn your back to them with a heavy sigh. You really need to go to bed early tonight. Days like these are exhausting.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[peachhcs]

there’s another trend going around tik tok rn of girls telling their boyfriends that they’re not gonna sleepover tonight and it’s seriously sooo cute. could you do something like that for Will and samy?

WAIT YES also the tiktok ban is making me so sad omg ive been on that app since MUSICAL.LY DAYS (edit: ok tiktok is back so crazy)

i feel like will would be really confused honestly because it would be like samy’s visiting him and he’s like what do you mean?? where else are you gonna go?? 🤨🤨

au masterlist

the fans loved whenever samy posted a tiktok with will because it almost always meant she was getting him into some trouble or poking fun at him without his knowledge.

she set up her phone where will would just think she was doing something on it and not think she was recording him. he was in the kitchen making them something for dinner as samy started recording and trying to act causal so he wouldn’t catch on.

“by the way, i don’t think i’m gonna sleepover tonight. i’m not really feeling it,” samy said and angled her phone to catch her boyfriend’s reaction.

his head popped up, “what do you mean?”

“like i dunno, i don’t really wanna sleepover,” the brunette shrugged.

will stopped what he was doing to fully look at her while samy sort of avoided his gaze and tried keeping the smile from catching her lips, “are you okay? is something wrong?” the boy grew concerned and confused.

“i’m fine, just don’t wanna sleepover.”

his puzzled expression was taking everything in the soccer player not to laugh, “uh..well..okay. where are you gonna go then if not here?”

“i dunno. maybe mack’s place? or i’ll text blaire. i’m sure she’ll love to have me,” samy chuckled.

will stood there dumbfounded. he started picking his brain for anything he did wrong or something he said that was making samy not wanna spend the night with him. he was so just confused because there wasn’t really anywhere she could go but his place.

“are you sure you’re okay? did i do something?” will finally walked away from the kitchen to stand a bit closer to the girl on the couch.

samy shook her head, “no, i’m just..wanna sleep somewhere else.”

the blonde tried to not let the hurt show on his face while he felt it in the tug of his heart, “o-okay. i-i mean i can sleep on the couch? we don’t have to sleep in the same bed if that’s..if that’s the problem..”

“no, no. i just..wanna go somewhere else is all,” samy finally caught his gaze and she did see the hurt slipping through it as much as will tried hiding it.

she couldn’t take it anymore seeing her boyfriend look at her like that. she quickly jumped up to throw her arms around him and stopped recording.

“i’m just kidding, it was a prank, i promise. it was for tiktok,” the girl quickly giggled.

“seriously? i thought i did something wrong,” will rolled his eyes and playfully pushed her away.

“i’m sorry, baby. i was just kidding. i do wanna sleepover with you,” she kissed his cheek and followed him back into the kitchen.

“i was just so confused because i didn’t know where else you could go that wasn’t here. those tiktok pranks are mean,” will pouted a bit dramatically making the brunette chuckle.

“i know, i’m sorry. you did nothing wrong. i love you and you’re perfect,” samy pecked his cheek again.

“i love you too,” will mumbled.

needless to say, the fans ate the video up and mostly loved how concerned will was that he might’ve done something wrong to upset the girl.

[kyyupidz]

Hey hey :3! Soooo it’s my birthday in acouple days and I was wondering if I could request some x reader content with Floydie. I love him very dearly and would like to spend my birthday with him pls and thank u :}

hey siri: is my boyfriend love-bombing me? (g/n reader x floyd leech)

★ after dating floyd leech for a week, you come to the sickening realization (before your birthday no less!) that floyd leech may or may not be love-bombing you. dammit! well, no relationships stay perfect forever, right? ★ hurt/comfort, preestablished relationship ★ 2.75k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, reader is called shrimpy, brief ace, deuce, grim, and azul mention, happy birthday user cryptidsandcreepycrawlings! <3

a week ago, you confessed your undying love to floyd leech of octavinelle. 

stupid? maybe. when you brought up the idea to your friends, they pretty much all told you to drop it. ace had called you as senseless as deuce, deuce was too surprised to respond to either of you, and grim had begun shaking even thinking about floyd.

unfortunately for them, all their warnings went through one ear and out the other. what’s the worst he could do? kill you? bring it! you’re not afraid! 

...okay, maybe you were a little scared. when you decided to completely disregard all warning flags and desperate mewls of mercy from grim, you were, admittedly, extremely nervous. you had locked yourself in the bathroom, and while grim clawed at the door trying to stop you, you texted floyd to meet you at the courtyard in the evening.

his response?

nah

…oh. well–

kidding dw ill be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  wait for me okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

and that’s how you managed to drag floyd leech out to the courtyard to spill your heart out to him!

…too bad the confession itself was… well… a whole stumble of words. nobody said it was going to be easy confessing to a 191 centimeter eel! you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, you were so scared! at the very least, he had kept quiet the whole time you were word-vomiting, patiently waiting for you to finish.

and when you were done… you had glanced up at him and… and…

he was smiling like crazy. like, maniacal crazy. your heart had practically stopped in your chest when you looked at him, and not because he was pretty, but because you were scared he was going to pull out a scalpel and carve it into your flesh!

…okay, maybe it was because he was pretty. but that’s not the point!

surprisingly, instead of laughing in your face or torturing you or just walking off, he immediately made a grab for you and pulled you into his arms, long arms encircling your torso and crushing the ribs inside to dust. 

“aww, shrimpy! let me give you a big squeeze!” he had squealed excitedly,  “ahaha!~ ain’t you just the cutest? okay, let’s have fun and play together forever and ever!”

admittedly, his acceptance of your feelings was a little creepy and ominous. it didn’t feel like he reciprocated more so that he was chaining you to him and dooming you to be his eternal plaything. but those are just details! what’s important is that he said yes, and now you’re officially dating floyd leech!

and really, it’s been a dream. more than that. he’s everything you wanted. even though grim immediately scampers upstairs into the safety of your shared room when he visits and ace keeps gagging every time you talk about him, he’s perfect. 

when he enters a conversation with someone, he immediately goes on a tangent about how “shrimpy just confessed their feelings to me!” which is quickly followed up by “you better congratulate me or i’m gonna squeeze you.” 

the thought of him showing you off to other people really makes your heart warm! 

and when you initiated the first kiss, a chaste peck on the cheek, he immediately pounced on you and gave you thousands more in turn. your friends are sick of seeing him draped on you and making kissy faces at you all the time, but you wouldn’t have it any other way! 

better yet, he’s been walking you to class every morning and walking you home every afternoon, saying that he just wants to spend a little more time with his favorite shrimpy. he doesn’t always lead you to class like he promises, sometimes dragging you along to skip in his room, but where floyd goes, you follow!

you guys are perfect. at least, you really thought you guys were perfect. but last night, ace had crashed on your couch, and made you rethink your entire relationship.

“are you sure he likes you, prefect?” he had asked you. and you immediately rolled your eyes, prepared for another lecture about how you need to rethink your love life choices.

“stop trying to break us up already,” you replied, swatting his shoulder, “this is why you keep getting collared.”

yet instead of just sighing and letting it go, ace had fallen eerily silent.

“i don’t know, prefect,” he muttered, “what if he suddenly decides you’re not fun anymore and dumps you? you know how he is, with his crazy mood swings. what if you do something he doesn’t like and he decides then and there, ‘it’s over!’”

at the time, you had swatted at him again, scowling.

“floyd would never do that!” you said, “he isn’t like that!”

but now… you aren’t so sure.

you know, it’s awful of you to think this way about your boyfriend! especially when he’s been nothing but kind to you. but you just can’t help yourself, this irrational feeling taking root in your mind and infesting your every thought. 

what if he really is just dating you because he thought it’d be fun in the moment? what if he really does dump you the moment you become boring? oh sevens, is this what they call love-bombing? are you being love-bombed?

you feel a pit forming in your stomach. worst part? tomorrow’s your birthday. your birthday! and you’re spending it stressed and worked up over a hypothetical chance of your boyfriend not liking you. dammit, that’s not fair!

in hopes of at least having a relatively decent birthday, you do everything that you can to put yourself to sleep. warm milk, counting sheep, running around a few times… 

it doesn’t work. you keep tossing and turning and groaning with exasperation.

and when floyd shows up at your door the next morning, you find yourself not overwhelmed with love, but doubt. does he really like you? or is this just one big game to him, where he sees how much fun he can squeeze out of you before you’ve run out of entertainment value? 

is that what this is? a game?

“hey, shrimpy,” floyd says, snapping you out of your thoughts. he’s pouting, clearly displeased that you’re ignoring him. “i’ve been calling your name for like, the past five minutes. what’s got your brain so scrambled today?” 

you smile up at him, standing on your tip-toes to give him his morning kiss. for some reason, it feels wrong. hollow, devoid of any sort of affection. 

…you make sure to give him a few more to make up for it. it makes him giggle and kiss you back. 

“sorry,” you respond back as cheerfully as you can, “it’s nothing, really! guess i stayed up a little too late today.”

…sevens, what are you thinking, doubting your boyfriend? you’re just the worst, aren’t you? he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he’s done for you! someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t walk you to class every single day. he’s done too much for you to chalk it up to simple love-bombing!

besides, who knows floyd better, ace, or you? obviously, you! you’re his partner! so why are you even bothering listening to ace? ace, of all people?!

you know what floyd’s like. you know that if he’s interested in something, he’ll chase after it for a while before it gets old and he ditches it. but those are things. objects. you do the same thing sometimes, abandoning a book if you start to get tired reading it. but people are a whole different matter. he wouldn’t do that to people, would he? would he ditch a person like that?

no. he wouldn’t! you know he wouldn’t.

…would he?

“hey,” you say suddenly, and he peers down at you curiously. 

“yeah?”

“if… hypothetically,” you start, trying to figure out how to articulate your thoughts, “jade wasn’t cool anymore, would you… abandon him? like, you weren’t having fun anymore with him.”

“if jade wasn’t cool anymore, huh…?” he hums in thought, shoving his hands into his pocket, “...nah. that’d never happen.”

you blink. okay, maybe his brother was a bad example. blood is thicker than water, or something. you can’t say you’re too surprised. 

“really?” you prompt, “not at all?”

“no way,” he shakes his head, “i mean, if he was, i’d totally drag him to the bottom of the ocean and let him get ganged up on by sharks. but i’d never get bored of jade!”

on second thought, maybe blood isn’t thicker than water. you shiver despite yourself. if that’s the treatment jade gets, you’re horrified to even think about what’s going to happen to you. maybe ace was right after all…? 

“why’d ya ask though, shrimpy?” he says, pinching your cheek, “someone got ya thinking that i’m gonna ditch you if you get boring?”

wow. bullseye. you forget how perceptive he can be sometimes. you laugh nervously, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“nothing like that,” you say, like a liar, “just thinking.”

yeah. yeah! you’re just overthinking it all. you mentally kick yourself for believing ace’s stupidity once again, and vow to make it up to floyd by being extra sweet and nice and cool. good thoughts, happy thoughts. you’re going to have a good day with your boyfriend and you’re going to celebrate living one more year with absolutely zero negative thoughts! 

(and yet, you still find that nagging “what-if” gnawing at the back of your mind.)

“floyd…” you manage to work up the courage to call out as you both sit in one of the mostro lounge booths. he’s supposed to be on the job, but he decided on a whim to skip and hang out with you. he says it’s more fun being with you than running around taking people’s orders. 

you didn’t know how you felt about that, considering your recent revelations, but you smiled back regardless. after all, doubts or no doubts, he is still your boyfriend. and you want to spend your birthday with the guy you really like! 

“what’s up, shrimpy?” he responds, chewing on your milkshake straw. despite serving it to you, he’s taken it for himself, the thief.

you steel your nerves, drawing in a breath. even though you told yourself earlier this morning that it was all nothing, you couldn’t stop thinking about ace’s words all day. so, you’re going to confront him for the second time today! but not in a roundabout way like before, no no no, you’re going to ask him head-on if he’s gonna leave you if you become a bore! as they say, communication is key, right?

“do you…” you pause, palms suddenly feeling very sweaty, “...like me?”

floyd blinks at you. once… twice…

“are you confessing to me again?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“huh?” you sputter out, “no, no, i’m not confessing to you again, i–”

“awh, shrimpy, i already told you i liked you a week ago! your brain’s been real scrambled today, huh? don’t worry, i know just the way to unscramble it!” 

and with that, he jumps up from his seat and runs off. you can only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he pushes his way towards the mostro lounge kitchen and disappears behind the double doors. 

you thought he’d come back in a few minutes or so, but no. he took until closing. had he done this any day but today, you would’ve let it slide. even before you two were dating, you used to wait for him all the time in this specific booth, waiting for him to finish up. but now…

you just feel bad. like you got stood-up or something. you couldn’t even finish your milkshake, you were so down in the dumps. not that you could’ve anyway, floyd chewed your straw to bits. the downsides of having a boyfriend with sharp teeth, you suppose.

but just when you were about to give up, go home, and text him later that you weren’t feeling well, floyd bursts out from the kitchen and places an absolutely huge ice cream sundae on the table. 

“ta-da!” he beams, sliding into the seat across from you with a grin, “whaddaya think? pretty cool, right?”

you gape at the monstrosity that floyd just laid before you. you’re not even sure what flavor the ice cream is. you think he took a scoop from every single tub the mostro lounge had and threw them all in, though it’s hard to tell by the way he’s drowned the whole thing in sauces and whipped cream. you look closer and spot a brownie and cookie layer completely drowned in the mess of sugar. are those… gummy worms too?

“this is…” you start, then immediately clamp your mouth shut. you’re not sure what he’d do if you told him this is simply too much. 

floyd’s smile only grows. “totally awesome, i know. i’m a cooking prodigy! azul chewed my ear out about it, saying that i’m wasting resources ‘n’ that i should be at the front helping the actual customers, but he let it go eventually. he’s gonna force me on dish-washing duty later, but it’s okay because i did it for shrimpy!”

your heart thumps loudly in your chest, the negative thoughts you were harboring seeming to fade away at his declaration. you can’t help but smile back at him, the way he so eagerly awaits your praise melting your doubts away.

“it is awesome,” you say softly, “you’re awesome. thank you so much.”

floyd seems to practically radiate pride, that maniacal smile you’re all too familiar with on full display. you gaze affectionately at the sharp row of teeth he sports. that’s your man right there!

“look, look,” he presses, “let me show you the best part.”

he turns the sundae around, and lodged haphazardly in between the glass and the sundae are two sugar cookies. 

they look like… you. and floyd. 

the one resembling floyd is messily frosted. there was an obvious attempt to create his signature smile, but it seems like the frosting tip was just a bit too big. and the frosting tip for his hair seems like it was too small, so every strand just looks like well-cooked blue spaghetti. 

but yours is almost identical to you. obviously, he’s taken a few artistic liberties, but compared to floyd’s? yours looks like a professional baker did it. it appears to you that between the time it took for him to make his cookie and the time it took to make yours, he got a rather significant boost in cookie decorating skills. 

“aren’t they cute?” he says happily, “i worked really hard on them, y’know. never knew how hard it was to frost cookies!” 

you gingerly pick your cookie up. the more you look at it, the more you feel your face warm. it’s like you’re falling in love all over again. 

it really does look like you. you wonder how long he had to stare at a picture of you to get it down so well. or maybe he’s got your face memorized so well that he can recall every detail? either way, you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“hey-hey, shrimpy,” floyd calls, “show me your cookie real quick?”

you blink. slowly, you turn the cookie to him, and he smushes the face of his own cookie onto the face of yours. the frosting smears against your fingertips as you gasp at the sudden destruction floyd has caused. 

“look, they’re kissing!” he giggles childishly, unfazed by the hours of his hard work he just disregarded. you stare shocked at the cookie sandwich that floyd has just created. 

he smiles at you, with his sharp teeth and stained uniform, and boops your nose with his finger. “happy birthday shrimpy.”

and then you realize, sevens, how could floyd ever leave you?

“...you know what,” you say breathlessly, “you know what, i think the real floyd should get some love, too.”

you reach over the table to grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. it’s just as calamitous as the cookie kiss, just lips smashing against lips, but you both pull away laughing and red-faced and wholly in love. 

“so?” he prompts, propping himself up on one hand to stare at you, “your brain all fixed up now?”

you smile at him. really smile at him. “yeah. all fixed. thank you, floyd.”

…wait, so, you have to eat this mess of a sundae he created now, right?

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! not only is this my first request, this is also a BIRTHDAY REQUEST??? oh boy. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE this fic gives you nothing but good blessings and much fortune because by the time i was done writing i realized maybe writing a hurt/comfort fic wasn't the way to go for a birthday present. NONETHELESS i do hope the comfort balanced out the hurt and that the hurt didn't hurt too bad!!! may you receive nothing but the best and may you live to see the next birthday with mr floyd leech himself! <3 <3 <3 <3

[witchygagirlwrites]

Jay Halstead x Reader

He keeps crawling into your bed and taking a piece of your heart every time.

Smut with a little plot??

You followed Kevin through rollup and could feel Jay’s eyes on you as if they left a physical trail behind. He was pissed, you knew he was. Every time you pulled a stunt like you just did it pissed him off. Even when Voight let it go because you got it done, you got the case closed and no one was killed he wouldn’t let it go.

You had a gun pointed to your head “Stand back bitch” you grinned “That’s detective bitch and let the kid go then maybe I’ll step back” you were antagonizing the guy at this point but you needed his eyes on you along with that gun being pointed at you instead of the fifteen year old he’d grabbed. He tossed the kid to the side and raised the gun higher “I’m going to prison anyways, might as well kill a lady cop” you flinched when a shot was fired but blood splattered across the ground in front of you.

“You’re welcome” Jay’s voice came across the com. He’d taken the shot in the half a second before the guy managed to pull the trigger, just like you knew he’d be able to. You weren’t the only member of the unit to have ever placed your life in Jay’s hands when it came to his sniper capabilities. Hell Voight himself had done it.

You made it up to the bullpen, unbuttoning the collar of your gear as you walked and felt Jay’s hand barely brush against yours as he walked past you,a little too close. “I’ll see you later” it was all but a whisper but he knew you heard him. The promise in his words made you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

This thing had started a while back between the two of you, you were friends and worked in the same unit so you understood the high stress of each other’s jobs and why neither of you had the energy to pursue dating. The solution was to use each other as a means to blow off steam when needed. How did it even start? Hell at this point you couldn’t quite remember. The rules were simple, no overlap into your job and no catching feelings.

Easier said than done when you had Jay Halstead’s hands and mouth all over you multiple times a week most of the time. You’d never meant for it to happen but every single time he came crawling into your bed you fell a little more. Everyone was finishing up their reports to head home. You cut your eyes at Jay about the time he glanced up at you and winked before turning back to his paperwork. Yeah, you were fucked.

You had your hand on your truck door when you felt that familiar arm slip around your waist followed by Jay’s warm breath hitting your neck “If we weren’t in public right now I’d have my head buried between your legs. Do you have any idea how bad you pissed me off?” you glanced over your shoulder at him, letting a smirk slip onto your face “I got the kid, you had my back. No big deal”

You saw a flash of anger in those sea blue  eyes, “No big deal? I’ll follow you to your place. I may just cuff your ass to the bed so you can’t push my head away after I make you cum” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth at his words and felt your panties soak when you saw the way his eyes tracked the movement “Yeah, I bet you’d love that” you shook your head “See you at my place” then shrugged his hand off and opened your truck door. He took a step back, that damn smirk of his in place.

____________________

You parked and the moment your truck was off and you were out of it you spotted Jay’s truck pulling up behind yours. You didn’t bother a look back and just walked up to your steps. You barely got the door open before he was slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. You smiled despite yourself when you felt his teeth teasing at the sensitive flesh of your neck “Can we make it inside Halstead?” you asked and he barely made a sound in response, guiding you over the threshold. You could feel him kissing and sucking the skin at the bend of your neck but he’d never left a mark before so that wasn’t a worry. A light moan escaped you when he caught a sensitive spot and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You reached out to lock the door but his hand came out to cover yours. He broke away from your skin and spun you around to face him, you tried and failed to not smile at him “You’re kinda hot when you’re mad” he shook his head. “Come here” he leaned down just far enough to get his hands under your thighs. You gasped lightly when he scooped you up into his arms, leaving you no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist. “Jay?” he grinned “Since I’m kinda hot, I’m taking you to bed. Now” you shrugged “I’m not complaining”

He knew the way through your apartment by now just as well as he knew his own. He kicked open your bedroom door and had you on the bed, stripping both of you free of clothes within minutes. 

Once you were down to your panties Jay leaned back and let his eyes roam across you “What?” you asked and he shook his head with a grin “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this for me” you felt your face warm “Christ Jay.Not so tough now, huh? What happened to being pissed?” He raised an eyebrow “Oh  I’m still pissed” and caught your lips in a rough kiss as his hands slipped under your panties, tugging them off your legs.

You felt one of his thick fingers slip through your folds before plunging into you.When you moaned into his mouth he grinned and added a second digit, curling them up until he hit that spot inside of you that made your back arch off the bed. He broke free from your lips and watched your face “Come on baby, let me see you fall apart. Be a good girl and spread your legs just a little further”

Your legs fell apart and he lowered his lips to your breasts “You feel so good, squeezing my fingers like that..you wanna cum?” you nodded, practically panting from how close you were to an orgasm. He grinned “Admit what you did was fucking stupid” you shook your head, stubborness winning out over just how bad you wanted him to pleasure you. You hadn’t been in the wrong, dammit.

He pulled his fingers out of you with a shrug “Ok then” you whined, fully whined at the loss of contact “You fucking asshole! I was right there!” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips “Admit I’m right” you glared at him “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself” and slid a hand down towards your pussy but before you could touch it he was grabbing both of your wrists in one of his, pinning them over your head “No ma’am”

You glared up at him from your position under him. You could feel just how hard he was through his boxers and that mixed with the denied orgasm had you pissed “Jay, I swear on everything just please fuck me already!” He smiled “Don’t worry i’ll take of you” he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips and released your hands, pressing them into the mattress with his own as he laced your fingers together, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he rutted his hips down against yours.

You whimpered in his mouth, the contact not what you needed but better than nothing. He bit your bottom lip gently then pulled back from the kiss to reach down and slip his boxers off “Grab a condom” 

You turned enough to slip a hand in your nightstand and felt him curl his palm against your ass as you did so. You pushed back into his touch and he chuckled lightly. 

____________________

Once he had the condom on he caught your chin to press another kiss to your lips “Turn over baby” he helped you move over onto your stomach and slipped a pillow under you before pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. You felt the head of his cock teasing at your opening before he pushed into you, bottoming out with one hard thrust. A loud moan of his name escaped you as your head fell to the bed. 

“You good?” he asked and you nodded “So damn good” he laughed “Good” you felt one of his hands on your hips, gripping tightly as the other pushed your shoulders down further into the mattress. 

Your hands balled into the comforter, every snap of his hip pulling screams of his name from you. It felt so damn good but  was borderline too much, “Can’t you handle it, baby?” he asked through gritted teeth.  “I can-fuck, I can handle it” you moaned. You were so damn close. He folded his body over yours, one hand supporting his weight on the mattress while the other slipped under you to find your clit, rubbing tight circles. You felt your orgasm slam into you as you clenched down on him, your entire body shaking slightly. He buried himself into you with a final thrust and came with a low moan of your name.

He stayed like that for a little while, hands rubbing across your body and lips following them. Working to soothe the muscles. “You ok?” he asked and you nodded “I’m good” he kissed your shoulder then gently pulled out, apologizing when you hissed between your teeth from the action. He helped you turn on your side then kissed you “I’m gonna toss the condom and get cleaned up. You need a water?” you nodded and he smiled “I’ll be right back”

________________

Once Jay came back you took the offered water and thanked him with a smile. He offered you his shirt from the floor after he slipped his boxers on and you slipped it over your head in favor of not being completely bare. He sat down on the bed next to you, fingers trailing over your thigh “You seriously pissed me off. What if he moved just a little faster? What if I missed?” you cut your eyes at him and shrugged “He didn’t and you didn’t. I trust you Jay, hell the entire unit trusts you. We could have swat on scene and Voight will look at the man in charge, literally roll his eyes then say get Halstead on the roof. I knew I was safe with you”

He shook his head “I told you over the com to back off” you grinned “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked” he glared at you “I’m well aware of that sweetheart”  you laughed “I can lie and say it won’t happen again but it will. You’ve known me for how long?” he laughed “As long as I’m there I’ll do my best to get you home” and leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

You looked down at the shirt you were wearing “You need this” he nodded “Unless I can stay here tonight?” you raised an eyebrow “Jay you don’t do overnights” he shrugged “It’s not the same thing with you” “What about work? They’ll notice you wearing the same shirt two days in a row” he shrugged “I’ll leave early enough to swing by my place, c’mon. It’s late and I’m tired” you shook your head “Fine”

He grinned and slipped under the sheet next to you. He turned to face you “Are you coming out on the water with everyone this weekend?” you nodded “Yeah, Kim and Hailey already asked me to go shopping with them for new swimsuits” he raised an eyebrow “Do I get some photos from the shopping trip?” you shook your head “That’s not very friend material there Jay” and turned with your back to him.

He slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you back against his chest before saying “If a friend can’t tell you what bathing suit makes them hard, what good is that friend?” you shook your head, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating “Go to sleep Jay” he pressed a kiss to your neck “Goodnight” “Night Jay”

You hated the fact that you were falling for Jay. Why did you think you could ever manage to have sex with him on a regular basis, have his hands and lips all over you, hear him call you baby and sweetheart and not fall? 

You’d had casual sex before,a random hookup here or there. Maybe that’s why you thought you could sleep with one of your closest friends and not fall for him? Not catch yourself looking towards him in the field, not catch yourself smiling slightly when he had your back despite arguing with you over it. You knew it didn’t mean to him what it meant to you. Jay was such a good man but to him? It was just blowing off steam with a friend. 

When the weekend rolled around you found yourself almost backing out, almost. Kim and Hailey would kill you if you didn’t show up.

__________________

You stepped out your truck at the docks and heard a loud whistle but knew it was Kim from the tone. You turned and saw her standing next to her car with a grin “Looking good!” you did a little spin, despite the fact that you were just wearing sandals and cut off shorts over your swimsuit. She nodded towards the water “Let’s get a move on, the guys are already on the boat”

You grabbed her arm and the two of you headed that way. You locked eyes with Jay as you made it to the boat and his eyes trailed down your body before he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked away. Adam moved to help Kim onto the boat and you started to take Kevin’s hand but to your surprise a different hand was offered to you. You smiled when you locked eyes with Connor, your only ex you were still friends with “Will didn’t say he was bringing the riffraff with him”

He grinned “Well yeah, he wanted to make sure you actually came” you laughed and stepped over onto the boat, pulling him into a hug. “Good to see you Con” he nodded as he pulled back, his hand on your side “Especially since it doesn’t involve you being in med”

You cut your eyes up and saw Jay staring at you. What was going on with him? He slipped his shirt off and tossed it into the growing pile the men had started before grabbing a beer from Adam and going to the other side of the boat. All of you were leaving the dock.

___________________

You laughed at something Adam said as Kevin and Antonio dove off into the water. This was actually the most fun you’d had in a while. “Not swimming?” Connor asked, stepping up next to you and you shook your head “Naw, I’m not feeling up to that” he laughed “Still not too big a fan of open water swimming unless it's a necessity?” you nodded “Yup”

He laughed and shook his head “Can’t blame ya” Kevin had climbed back up on the lower level of the boat and whistled up to you “Yo partner! Grab me a beer!” “Two please!” Antonio hollered and you nodded “I got ya” and patted Connor “I gotta get my fellas some drinks” he nodded.

You headed for the cooler at the far end of the boat and felt someone behind you when you leaned over into it even before you heard Jay’s voice “You and Connor sure have been talking a lot” 

You grabbed the two beers and straightened up before facing him, the sun was beating down on him and he was covered in a fine sheet of sweat which made it a little hard to be mad at him when he looked so damn delicious. “He’s my friend Jay, same as you” he raised an eyebrow “Oh he’s nothing like me”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked and he smirked before stepping closer “He never fucked you like I do” you rolled your eyes and bit back the response you wanted to give which was “Maybe but he actually deemed me worthy of dating” and instead you “How do you know how he fucked me?” and turned and walked away when his eyebrows were still scrunched together like they got when he was good and pissed off, trying and failing to keep the proud smirk off your face.

_______________________

You were sitting on a lounge chair with Kim when you spotted Jay talking to a nurse from med, no he was flirting. Right in view of you. Fucking asshole. Kim called your name and you blinked then looked at her “Yeah?” she laughed “I was asking have you thought about that task force position? They’re really hungry after you”

You shrugged “I don’t know, I would be gone for a month and half. I wouldn’t know my team plus the feds?” Antonio shrugged “It’s only six weeks. Plus you could wrack up some favors for us in that time” you shook your head “Thanks Dawson, spin it to me that I need to do it to help everyone” and that caused Kim, Adam and Kevin to laugh. You started in major crimes before intelligence and now had a task force wanting you on it. They’d approached Voight about loaning you out but he’d told them “I don’t loan my people without them being ok with it” so now it was up to you.

You cut your eyes back up and saw the nurse with Jay’s phone, typing in it. She was adding her number. You were falling for him and he was getting someone else’s number in front of you. “Maybe I’ll do it. I’ll schedule a meeting with them and Voight monday” you said and Antonio patted your leg “Attagirl! You can handle it” Kim grinned “I’ll take care of your place while you’re gone”

_____________________

When you got back to the dock Antonio helped you off the boat and you practically ran to your truck. You didn’t want the risk of seeing Jay or the damn nurse. The moment you were in your truck and pulling out you spotted Jay and his eyes followed you. You tried not to let your heart hurt, you’d known what it was when you two started but did he have to get her number in front of you?

____________________ 

You were showered and in just a big tshirt and panties when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You snatched open the door to find Jay standing on your doorstep. His eyes widened “Sweetheart, it’s still early enough people can see you” you shrugged “Oh well. Where’s your nurse?”

He chuckled lightly, “What’s wrong?” you shook your head “Nothing” he grinned “Can I come in?” you stepped back and waved a hand “By all means Halstead” he walked in and closed the door behind himself “Why did you run off?” you shrugged, crossing your arms “You looked busy”

He shrugged “Figured you may be leaving with Rhodes” “Fuck you Halstead” a smirk slipped onto his face “Is that what’s wrong? You need a fuck?” you rolled your eyes “Why? The nurse wouldn’t give it up so you went to the easy option?” He took a step towards you and you cursed when your back hit the door. He placed a hand on either side of your head “Don’t talk about yourself like that”

“Fucking bite me” you growled and he grinned “If you want” before you knew what was happening the fucker had one hand around your throat, loosely but firm enough to hold you in place and was leaning down to sink his teeth into the soft skin of your neck. You moaned low and your hand went to his wrist, nails digging in but not trying to move it. He pulled back from your neck and smiled “Look how pretty you are with my hand wrapped around your neck” he squeezed gently and you felt your eyes roll back in your head.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before whispering in your ear “How about I fuck you hard enough you forget how Connor ever fucked you?” you cut your eyes up at him “What about your nurse?” he grinned “She can wait” you shook your head “Fuck it” and pulled him into a kiss.

You were half asleep with Jay’s arms wrapped tightly around you. He was fast asleep behind you with his face buried in the bend of your neck, you were startled by his phone chiming. You reached for it with intentions to wake him up and hand it to him before you saw the name Erika as an incoming text and read that it say Call me Jay. Would love to get together again soon

Again? AGAIN? Had he left her and come fucked you? You felt your stomach roll and it took everything in you to not wake him up and kick him out then and there. You felt nauseous. You grabbed your phone and checked the time to see it was still early enough to send Voight a text I’m taking the task force position for 6 weeks you laid your phone down and then scooted your way out of Jay’s arms. Once you were sure he wouldn’t wake up you grabbed your shirt off the floor and slipped it on. You needed a hot shower and then you’d sleep on the couch and possibly burn the sheets you’d just fucked him on come tommorow.

 Monday morning, the lead agent on the task force was in Voight’s office when you got into work. You cut your eyes at Kevin who gave you a nod. You walked into Voight’s office as she stood up and offered her hand “Detective. I was happy to get your sergeant’s call” you smiled “I’m agreeing to the six week but then I’m coming home to my unit, understand” she nodded “Of course”

You sat down across from Voight and he nodded “Don’t worry sweetheart intelligence is your home. It’ll be waiting” so you started talking to Agent Miller about what the task force would entail, your living and travel expenses.

“So you need me to leave tomorrow? That’s short notice?” you asked and Voight shrugged “We kind of waited until last minute to get back to them” you glanced out at the bullpen where everyone kept looking at the office door. “Ok, I’ll have to make some arrangements today but I can swing it” 

Agent Miller looked at Voight “She seems like she’s going to be as good as you say” he shook his head “She’s better”

You were walking out of your place with your duffle bag when you heard a truck door slam and looked up to see Jay storming up the sidewalk “You’re fucking leaving?” “It’s six weeks” you replied and he scoffed “In D.C! You don’t know those assholes! How do you know they’ll have your back! What if something happens?” 

You shrugged “Then I guess Voight is gonna have a slot to fill” his face fell at your words “And what about me?”  “I’m just your friend Jay, you’ve got plenty of those” you told him, sighing in relief when the taxi pulled up. He followed you down the steps “We’re not just friends you know that” 

You tossed your bag in the trunk of the taxi then turned to look at him “Yeah? Tell Erika that. I’ll see ya in six weeks. Then I’ll have an option to come home to intelligence or join the international team” you pushed past him and climbed in the taxi, telling the driver you needed the airport.

______________________

“Tell Erika that?” Jay repeated your words. What the hell did you mean by that? He hadn’t seen her since the day on the water. Hell he’d only gotten her number because he was being a jealous asshole when he saw you with Connor most of the day. He remembered when you were with Connor, everyone thought that was it, that you were gonna marry him. 

When he saw you in that damn swimsuit, the way it hugged your curves…then to see Connor touching you to help you on the boat and you hugging him? He’d wanted to knock him off the damn boat. That was why he’d come to your place that day, to see if Connor was there. What he would’ve done, well he didn’t want to think about because taking you out of the equation he liked Connor.

He pulled his phone out and clicked through his texts and saw an unopened one from Erika that read  Call me Jay. Would love to get together again soon Again? He hadn’t gotten together with her past being on the water. He checked the time and cursed under his breath. That was after he fell asleep, meaning you were probably either awake or woke up by the text. If you saw the word again after specifically asking about her….FUCK

He clicked your name and texted you Sweetheart I saw the text from her, It is NOT what you think it is. Please call me when you land

What was he supposed to do if you didn’t believe him or if something happened to you or hell if you chose the international team? He never should’ve let this go this far. The moment he started feeling something for you he should’ve manned up but he hadn’t wanted to lose you. Joke was on him, he lost you anyways.

You checked your phone to see what Jay had texted today Can you just let me know you’re ok? He knew you were ok. You talked to Hailey or Kim every day. He was just trying to get you to talk to him. “Boyfriend?” Charity asked with a raised eyebrow from where she was breaking down her long gun across from you. You shook your head “Friend from back in Chicago” 

She nodded “They the one that’s been blowing you up?” you nodded “Pissed me off pretty good before I left, trying to make sure I come back and not just to pack my shit up” she laughed loudly, her bright green eyes sparkling “Have you made a decision yet?” you nodded “I have really enjoyed working with the task force and anytime I’m needed in a temp position I’d hop back in but Chicago is home”

She grinned “I get it. You miss your unit” you nodded “That too” she cut her eyes at your phone “What ya gonna do about the friend?” you rolled your eyes “I have no clue” and she laughed “You poor thing”

“Coming home tomorrow” “Is she staying?” “I don’t know yet” that was the conversation Jay picked up between Antonio and Hailey but it was enough to figure out you were finally coming home. He’d talked to Erika, gotten slapped for using her as a jealousy plot and then got forgiven when he explained that he truly had feelings for you. 

Hopefully you’d forgive him with just a slap. Hell he’d let you get by with a lot more than a slap if it meant you forgiving him. 

He was quiet, trying to hear anything more. When he didn’t he figured he’d just go to your place after work. If you were there he’d try to talk to you and if not, he’d wait.

When the taxi pulled up in front of your place you cursed under your breath when you saw Jay was sitting on your steps. The driver looked at him then back at you “Everything ok? Should I call the cops?”

You laughed lightly “We both are the cops sir, it’s fine. He’s a friend” you paired the fare and grabbed your bag then climbed out. Jay stayed leaning against the rail but his eyes tracked your every movement “Hey” he greeted and you nodded “Hey” you walked past him, shifting your bag to your left hand to offer him your right. He gripped it with his larger hand and pulled himself to his feet. He looked down at you for a moment before you turned to unlock the door. 

__________________________

You walked in and cut your eyes back at him before heading to the laundry room to drop your duffle to the floor. You walked back into the living room to find Jay standing next to the couch. “Gonna sit or stand there?” you asked, sitting down on the couch. 

He sat down next to you, watching as you took your boots off and tossed your jacket too. Once you were comfortable he said “I missed you” you laughed lightly “Erika not good company? Or you already got a new one?” he sighed “I wasn’t with her before I came here that night. I know your line of thinking”

You cut your eyes up at him “Then why did she text that?” he shrugged “She said she hadn’t thought to text before then” you nodded “So you talked to her” “To explain that I never should’ve asked for her number and apologize for doing it” “Why?” you asked and he shrugged “Why what?” “Why shouldn’t you have gotten her number?” you asked and he turned his head to be fully facing you “I came here that night to see if Connor was with you”

“Why?” you asked and he smiled “Because I would’ve probably taught him not to touch things that aren’t his” you laughed “Oh so I’m just your friend but you can claim me?” his head fell back on the couch “Dear lord woman, I am trying here! Go ask Erika if you don’t believe me. I told her I was being a jealous asshole because you were talking to Connor and I just wanted you to want me like you once wanted him!”

“What?” you asked,honestly in shock and he nodded “I want you, fully” you swallowed hard “Really?” and he nodded “More than anything” you rolled your bottom lip then turned to slip your leg over his waist, effectively straddling his lap. He grinned once you were settled and put his hands on your hips. “Jay?” you called his name quietly and he nodded “Yeah?” “How long were you sitting there?” he flinched “A few hours”

“Guess you should get something in return then huh?” you asked before pulling him towards you, catching his lips in a kiss that started gentle but when you rolled your hips down against his he nipped at your bottom lip causing you to gasp lightly and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, rolling it against yours. 

Your hands went to his shoulders, gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss then broke from your lips to kiss across your jaw then down to your neck “Jay?” you called his name and he cut his eyes up at you “Yeah baby?” you smiled “I’m yours?” he nodded “And I’m yours baby” you looked over your shoulder towards your bedroom before asking “Stay with me tonight?” a broad grin split his face “That’s the first time you’ve asked me to stay” you pulled him into a kiss before saying “First time you’re my boyfriend instead of friend. Now take me to bed Halstead” 

He grinned against your lips and stood, causing you to have to wrap your legs around his waist “Anything you want baby”

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Regarding Beasts” 

Author: Altiria Artist: CJ || ColorlessJay @colorlessjayblog

Rating: Mature Archive warnings: None Length:  55,000 words Tags:  Fluff, Eldritch Monster!Castiel, Kid!Sam, War Scenes, John's A+ Parenting, Comedy Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Colette/Cain

Summary:  

“Legend tells of a beast within the woods. A creature that lives where the trees grow taller than the highest castle, and the darkness swallows all light. None dare tread where it walks, for if it catches sight of you, you’re already lost. The beast devours the hearts of young men, its hunger never abating. So beware, young souls, of the forest and its protector, and do not venture forth into the woods.”

Or:

Dean has protected the forest for his entire life, but when he is cursed with memory loss, he wanders into the beast's territory. But the creature has no interest in 'eating' his heart; rather, it would much prefer to capture it instead.

Excerpt: 

“I am Castiel. Seraph of the Forest.”  

“Hi, Castiel… of the forest,” Dean repeated after the guy. “I’m Dean, Human of the village?” 

The feathers on Castiel’s head poofed up again as he shuffled. His wings extended, revealing their full length, while his tail flared out in tandem. He looked at Dean as if to ask his opinion. 

“Cool,” Dean choked. “You, uh… those are huge wings.” Stunning, actually. Dean wanted to touch them, wanted to run his hands all over Castiel—not just because he was a Forest God and meeting one was rare, but because they looked ridiculously soft. 

Castiel’s wings settled down. Was he preening? What did preening even look like? He didn’t know shit about birds.

“Well,” Dean drawled. “I should go… my brother is probably going crazy wondering where I am.” He was painfully late to pick Sam up from school; he had probably gone home alone, frantic and worried. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had contacted the rangers to send out a search party. 

Castiel’s head bobbed. “I understand; your hatchling is waiting.” 

“Exactly,” Dean said, half-turned. “So… thanks for everything. I’ll just be on my—”

Talons wrapped around his middle, cutting him off. Dean had barely a second to process before Castiel shoved off the ground, his wings barely making a sound as they beat. 

The forest was below them, zooming at a ridiculous pace, as they raced to the village up ahead. He was in the sky. Dean, the completely mature and level-headed adult he was, screamed.

Posting date:  March 13, 2025

[lonesilverw0lf]

Amazing and hilarious huh? Well your praise is much appreciated and I do try my best! Hopefully I will continue to do so as well!

Shadow of the Heroes! That is so….WRONG! This is a modern anime, you can’t have a short and punchy title! What is this the 90s or 00s where we have things named like Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon, Pokémon, Bleach, Naruto, One Piece, and what have you?! This story needs an ultra long and convoluted title that wraps around the whole cover of the manga and nobody is going to bother reading! Something like… I Was Almost Executed For Daring To Be Near My Summoned Classmates Who Are Heroes, But I’m Not A Twelve Year Old Edgelord With A Chip On His Shoulder Who Would Go On Some Inane Revenge Plot Using Unimersive Computer Stat Screens So Since I’m Not An Asshole I Shadow Them So We Can bantibrbskavhfjagtbkdhwbkfh! Seriously though, what is it with these ridiculously long anime titles?

I’m not against the Party having an affect on this world’s technology, but I wouldn’t have them do something like putting a whole village through the Industrial Revolution. Such an event would require a whole heap of time, work, technology, resources, connections, and such, which one village wouldn’t have and is highly doubtful the Party could spare. Not to mention the groundwork necessary before such an event could happen. This also runs into a little pet peeve of mine that some people are arrogant enough consider anyone in ancient or even older times to be complete morons. We have had geniuses all throughout history, just look at the architecture of the various empires and cultures! Ancient Egypt made all those monuments with nothing but a hammer and chisel! They knew that things worked, even if they couldn’t explain the hows and whys like we can. The Greeks had a working prototype steam engine, they just didn’t have the resources to make the iron necessary to make it fully work. We still can’t figure out Greek Fire and I think we just recently rediscovered how to make Roman Concrete which is still leagues better than modern concrete. And then there’s the experiments with Bald’s Leech Books that’re proving effective, the Aztecs had a whole empire without a single wheel, they had the Antikythera Mechanism that mapped the stars with insane accuracy, the 12 Angled Stone of Peru, Roman aqueducts, Damascus Steel, that Chinese earthquake detector, and so on.

Sure with magic that can cut a few corners, but that also begs some further questions. How widespread is magic? Is it like Harry Potter where it’s everywhere, bending like AtlA where it’s known and could be used with proper training, only for a select group like in Skyrim/Witcher who are then shunned, or is it a closely guarded secret bloodline capability like in the Mistborn trilogy? Each group has its own cultural impacts and would affect how the Party advance things. Hell, such varied views can be in each different kingdom! Then we have to question the particular rules of magic: hard or soft magic systems, the effects on the environment and human body, materials required, and so on. There’s also the issue with power and control. Those with better technology, resources, weapons, etc. can and will boss those around who have less power or who just can’t defend themselves(every tyrant makes sure to have their population unarmed for example). Depending how prevalent magic is in this world, there will be certain groups that wish to restrict magic and technological advancements to themselves so as to better control the lesser folks. I mean, it’s not like it’s too different from the real world but I digress. Those in power wouldn’t likely be ok with a buncha random kids just boosting the power in the boondocks if they can’t control them. That could cause a cascading effect that might throw off the whole power dynamic if they let it.

There’s also the problem with the actual manufacturing and distribution of said goods. You can know how an incandescent lightbulb works, what it’s made of and such, but that doesn’t mean that you can create one yourself. Edison failed over a thousand times before he figured it out. If you make a whole mill to make textiles, you’d better have a good supply of raw materials to make such an investment worth it. Depending on the village, they might have to import the wool and cotton, which means the suppliers will have to have the necessary advancements to keep up with the demand. And even if you can manufacture certain product, that doesn’t mean much if nobody else but this one village has the infrastructure to use them. Think of how EVs can be used in big cities but in the deeper countryside they’re basically worthless. A high quo toilet is worthless in a house without a decent plumbing system already installed.

Sorry if that seems like I was looking too deeply into it or sound ranty, but I had to get that off my chest. Seeing some anime go from Dark Ages to near modern day in a like a week with zero reason or buildup while skipping a buncha steps kinda irks me. I’m trying to create my own worlds and I know these are things to think about. Learning about history shows just how interconnected such events are and is simply fascinating. There has to be a foundation before such large jumps can occur. So if anything the Party wouldn’t necessarily put them through an Industrial Revolution, but at least with having a decent foundation or similar in progress could help out in filling in some gaps, pointing out some possibilities to be had, expediting certain aspects, fixing certain flaws, perhaps even helping to rediscover older technologies or magic systems. Human ingenuity and drive will push them the rest of the way. Help shrink the power gaps that exist. Perhaps at least set the jumpstart an Agricultural Revolution, which was a thing I didn’t know existed until I started looking for videos about the Industrial Revolution, so the Industrial one has a strong foundation. You need a surplus of food before things like industry can thrive. Depending on how advanced the world is, they could force certain developments by accident to open the door for others. In turn the Party can also learn/be reminded that people aren’t stupid(well generally at least), they just have a different perspective and experience than you do while the Party is used to having the collective knowledge of humanity at their fingertips, and that traditions and beliefs have a greater meaning and purpose than you realize.

The Party needs a Guide, and an adult figure, other than those that the Summoning Royals insist that go with the Party to keep an eye on them and report back. They may be the protagonists of this story and the summoned heroes ‘meant to save the world’ as so claimed, but they’re still teenagers and have a lot of growing up to do. So how about one that casually inserts himself into the Party and rejects their rejection of his presence. He gets around, seeing as how he just so happens to know quite a few people in just about every big town they visit. That one wench in that tavern, that drunk on the street, that one fisherman, that particular shepherd, and on. He’s not very well liked at first, they are fresh in a new world and their first interaction with this world nearly got MC murked, but he makes himself near invaluable due to his knowledge and connections that aren’t that the Party just can’t get. He knows the local rules and history that aren’t written down since they’re just common sense around these parts. The map might say there is a bridge in the area, but he knows the better paths to get there. He can point out when a particular quest is most likely a trap because things aren’t squaring up. The locals are 50/50 on whether they like the Party or not, for various reasons, so Guide would be a huge help there as well.

For as much Guide likes his drinking, smoking, gambling, and such, he also helps tremendously with guiding the Party into being better people. Having someone there to actually teach is an irreplaceable thing to have. And they don’t even realize how much he’s teaching them! He helps Prez learn how to be a better leader(Optimus Prime origin), shows Tomboy how to better handle her emotions, teaches Bully how to be a better person, actually mentors MC how to fight and a few other tricks to help him in his Shadow business since nobody official will or even can, teaches Mama and Clown how to hold back their helpfulness slightly to force their classmates to embrace hardship and the suck to grow as individuals, and so on. He identifies and empathizes with each one. He takes time to individually teach the Party and cater to what they need instead of shuffling them through a system like how schools are wont. He takes time to sit with MC and just let him be. Guide understands depression and anxiety, so steadily helps him overcome it alongside the Party. Guide attacks the core of the problem instead of focusing on the effects of it which is far too easy to do. The class may very well like him and want the best for him, but it MC isn’t ready for that then no amount of affirmations will do anything. It’s like that saying that no matter how much support you give someone, they have to take the steps to recovery/improvement.

Guide backstory! I don’t know whether to equate him to Uncle Iroh, Gandalf, or whoever but you get my jist. Guide takes a backseat after the Party get their feet under them and allows them to actually do the things they do because they need to, but he’s like MC in the background shuffling things around to help them on their quest. If anyone has read ID: Greatest Fusion Fantasy, and I will shamelessly plug this one, then I was thinking Krevitz at the start. I will be forever sad that said story will never be finished. It was so darn good too! But anyway, Krevitz isn’t a mentor figure in this but still a cool character with an interesting twist. Krevitz was introduced early and returned later revealing himself to have certain connections and an absolute beast in his own right. (I wanna geek out about this but I can’t because spoilers!) So for Guide perhaps he has similar connections to a rival kingdom of the Summoners Kingdom. He originally was just going to spy on them because valid, but then see that these ‘Summoned Heroes’ are just a buncha kids?! What?! So of course he decided to help them become better people in a bid to gain their trust and just help them because the Summoners surely aren’t going to considering they tried to axe MC from the jump. He’s a veteran from the previous big war so it’s easily accepted that he doesn’t like to give too many details of his past and how he has a wide spread of knowledge and deep wisdom.

The Rival Kingdom is situated to the North or West of the Summoners, and the Summoners make sure to tell the Party everything bad about the Rivals to prevent them from going there. While the bad things aren’t necessarily incorrect per se, they obviously aren’t the whole story. It’s not like the Summoners don’t have more than their fair share of skeletons in their own closet either. Thankfully the Party is smart enough to not fall for such an obvious ploy, but still remain guarded for good measure. The main thing that separates the Summoner from the Rival kingdoms is that the Rivals have a long standing tradition and law to NOT use summoned heroes from other worlds. They are firmly of the belief that this world’s problems should be resolved by this world’s inhabitants. If an Otherworlder happens to fall through the cracks of reality and land here that’s one thing, but to summon a host to do your dirty work is something else. Sure that can leave them on the back foot on occasion, but then that just means they have to compensate and reinforce in other areas. Once Rival learns of the Party, their first hope is to send them home. Not only to short the Summoners a powerful task force, but also because ripping people away from their homes for your own gain is just wrong. Of course sending them home immediately isn’t such an easy task, since Rival will need to find the exact formula that brought them so they can safely send them back.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[adoresia]

contains ★ fluff ft Bachira Meguru :: cuddling, playful physical affection , light teasing / banter with romantic undertones , exaggerated humor . W/C ★ 0.7k

You were stood in the shower with water running into your hair and down your back, staring at the questionably empty bottle of shampoo in your hand that was only bought a few days ago. And of course — today had to be the day it ran out, you’re hair already soaked and dripping. How did it run out this quickly? Surely you don’t use that much shampoo, or so you thought. You sighed opening the curtain and aiming the bottle for the trash. Great. Now what?

Your eyes desperately scanned the shower area before landing on a bright, obnoxiously colorful bottle sitting lazily on the hanger, with Bachira’s shampoo drawn in bold sharpee. Your eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. “Couldn’t have been anymore obvious” You thought before grabbing the weirdly shaped bottle and bringing it up to your line of vision, blurred by the steaming water.

You already knew what was going to happen if you used it ; he’d figure it out somehow and he definitely wouldn’t let you go. Still, it was your only option. Defeated, you opened the bottle and lathered it into your hair, hanging onto the 1 percent possibility that he wouldn’t.

Who were you kidding?

The moment you stepped out of the tub and walked towards the door, towel still wrapped around you soaking up the left over droplets of water, his head snapped up. Nose twitching slightly, the same way it always did when it caught a familiar scent. He blinked and sniffed the air dramatically, and then his eyes lit up signaling that he had already caught on. Though the steam from your shower leaking into the room wasn’t doing you any justice, You hadn’t even got to walk out of the bathroom yet.

“Hey…” Bachira got up and practically floated toward you, leaning uncomfortably close to your face. “You smell like me!”

You backed away, trying to hide your deadpanned expression, you weren’t in the mood for his antics on this cold Tuesday night. “Really? I don’t think so.” Bachira squinted, his amber eyes narrowing suspiciously, but then his grin widened, playful and mischievous. “You totally do! Did you use my shampoo? You did, didn’t you?” You opened your mouth to deny it, but your face betrayed you. The way your eyes darted gave you away instantly.

“I knew it!” He tilted his head closer, his grin somehow becoming even more ridiculous. “Look at you being obsessed with me.” You groaned while rubbing your temples. “You’re so annoying. I just ran out of mine.” He raised an eyebrow, still grinning stupidly. “Are you sure? Didn’t you buy a new bottle like… two days ago perchance?” Your brow furrowed as you thought back. “That’s what I thought! I’ve only washed my hair once since then.” He didn’t reply, but the grin plastered on his face grew even more absurd. You squinted at him, trying to figure out what he found so funny. Then it hit you.

“You finished my shampoo didn’t you.”

“Me? Why would I do that?” he replied, feigning innocence, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck as if he were blameless. “This is the second time Bachira. You can’t keep doing that just so I can smell like you, I’m tired of having to use your 5 in 1 head and shoulders shampoo.” He blinked once, twice, and then burst out laughing, his voice bubbling with unrestrained delight. “Okay fine, You caught me. But…” he said, inching closer, “It smells so much better on you.” You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your freshly washed hair, taking a deep exaggerated whiff. “You just want us to smell the same. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m a sweaty football player.” you protested, trying to escape from his grasp. “Mmmmmmm, I don’t mind.” he hummed into your hair, his voice muffled but full of satisfaction. “I can feel you smiling,” he teased. “Shut up,” you groaned, but the warmth in your tone gave you away.

For the rest of the night, you found yourself curled up with Bachira on the sofa. His head rested against yours, nose buried in your roots as if he couldn’t get enough of the scent he used everyday. Every now and then, he’d hum in satisfaction or press a quick kiss to the top of your head, his arms snug around your waist. You rolled your eyes playfully, but you didn’t push him away. Because, despite his antics, being wrapped up with him like this was the kind of warmth you didn’t really mind.

© ⋆ Please do not copy / translate any of my writing onto different platforms or in general !

— I appreciate reblogs more than likes !!! <3

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 5

Part 1 | AO3

The suit, respirator, goggles, gloves combo had you sweating like the devil in church. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, except your in-ear headphones were overheating and not responding to your taps to change the song. Somehow you had been stuck on the same song for damn near forty minutes. It was a good song, don’t get it twisted, but if it didn’t require leaving the house and pulling off all the gear to change the song you would have done it on the third repeat.

With the last of the lathe and plaster removed and swept from the room, you detach the chute from the window. Carefully you strip off the protective gear, clothes soaked with sweat beneath them. The next thing you do is pull your headphones out and pause your music. Sliding between the layers of plastic keeping the dust from invading the house you make your way outside to breathe fresh air.

The boys were all at Lydia Fisher’s house as her grandchildren had finally arrived for the summer stay. You had already confirmed with Lydia that the pizza delivery you were paying for would arrive at five and she would send the boys home at seven. They would absolutely all need a bath before bed.

When you open the front door all of your focus is on laying out the gear to dry over the porch railing. The respirator and the goggles go down easily, the suit gives a wet sound when you snap it to straighten out all the wrinkles. That done you look up and nearly have a heart attack.

“Jesus and a chicken!” Your hand ends up on your chest as you heave in breaths.

Where you had expected empty space stood three of your neighbors, all watching you with various expressions of quandary.

“Why a chicken?” Kyle asked as he shoved one hand into his pocket.

Your brows pull together. “I don’t know, that is what came out of my mouth in a moment of shock.”

He gives a look of acknowledgment and glances at his counterparts.

“Did you guys need something? I’ve been upstairs stripping a bedroom to get insulation and new walls put up.” You brush your hands down your shirt, now quite aware that even in the moist heat your pits, under boob, and groin had yet to dry.

“Wanted to see if there were any neighborhood events we should be aware of,” Johnny spoke up, moseying up to the porch railing and hanging over it to talk to you.

You leaned against the main post, folding your arms as you thought.

“Nothing formal, but every third weekend a few families get together over at my place and we grill and let the kids run wild.” You direct your answers to the group but look mostly at Johnny.

Simon and Kyle step closer, like wolves you had watched on nature documentaries. When they close in you snap your gaze to Kyle and then to Simon. It gets trapped on Simon, the dark pitch of his eyes pulling you in like tar that swallowed ice-age animals whole.

“You need anything, bonnie?”

The hum of question you give is distracted. Turning your face away from Simon, it takes extra effort to drag your gaze to Johnny. Blinking a few times to clear your mind you process what you heard.

“Mmm, don’t think so. Unless you guys can sheet rock and mud a bedroom in under a day?”

Johnny grinned and Kyle chuckled, Simon let out a small huff that could be construed as a laugh.

“Can’t say we know how yet, but we will by the time we are done fixing up our own house,” Kyle smirks up at you.

“Been meaning to ask you about that. Are you all together or just really good friends?” They share a look and you go on, bulldozing past any awkwardness creeping up your body like kudzu. “I only ask because folks around here will talk and if I can head off the rumors your time here will be easier. Lord only knows why I’m their favorite subject.”

“Na, we work together. Military stuff and we find it easier to feel safe when we know there is someone who can watch our back as we rest,” Johnny gives a small smile to the gaps between the porch slats.

Nodding as if you understand, you most assuredly do not, you tuck that information away for your next run-in with any of the town gossips, Cherrie and Marline. They would be after you like hens after a chick when they found out you were now living next door two four presumably eligible, and decidedly, attractive bachelors.

‘What about your everlasting soul? Living so close to such men might tempt you into sin.’ They would always whisper the word sin as if one woman’s boy hadn’t been born out of wedlock and the other hadn’t been caught having an affair ten years back. One of these days you would remind the two of them of what Jesus actually called a sin, and it wasn’t ‘treating your neighbor as yourself’.

“Where are your boys today?” Simon speaks up now, everyone turning to look at him as he stares straight at you.

“They are at the Fisher’s. Lydia’s grandchildren have arrived and we have a standing agreement to timeshare the children until school starts back up,” you grin wide thinking about your boys. “I don’t know if you’ve met them yet, they live in the opposite direction from my house.”

Your former pastor had commented on it once. You didn’t go to church anymore, for too many damn reasons to recall or recount but Pastor Harry had been a good man and reminded you that there were people in the world who practiced what they preached.

“I know you never wanted to be a mom, but those boys? I can see the love you have for them written all over your face when you talk about them. I’m real proud of you for taking them in and fighting for them,” he laid a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

The quiet comfort and confidence Pastor Harry had given you that day had fueled you for weeks and helped you swat away the nastier comments lobbed your way from parents of your students, the administration, and even the cashier at the local stop and rob.

Looking back to the men standing in the heat of the day you make a decision.

“Why don’t y’all take a seat and I’ll grab us all some sweet tea and ice pops.” Turning around without waiting for an answer you let the screen door slam shut behind you.

When you return the only seat available is next to Simon on the porch swing. Passing each man a refreshment you settle into the cushion and try to toe the swing into motion. When nothing happens you glance at Simon who is staring at your nice glass with something akin to mistrust in his eyes.

“You don’t have to drink it but can you at least lift your feet so I can rock the swing?” The single brow lift seems to do the trick.

“This is delicious!” Johnny cries as he stares down at his glass. “Never got the appeal of hot tea but this? I will miss this when we go back to work.”

The swing begins a soft back-and-forth movement. Glancing down you see Simon’s boot flat on the porch; his thigh bunches and releases in time with the movement.

“What do you think Kyle?” Sipping at your own tea you watch him for an answer.

“Might need this recipe for my mum, to be frank.” He looks down at his glass with a mixture of pleased concern written across his face.

“Be happy to send you with a recipe card.” You can’t wipe the smile from your face. Your front porch didn’t get as much use as you would like, they were the first visitors to use it this year.

Kyle and Johnny chat with you for nearly a half hour before by the winding down of the conversation the men stand in tandem. They all trail into the house to deposit their glasses in the sink before saying their goodbyes and rounding the house for the trail that would lead them back to their own home.

Placing your cup in the sink next to theirs you are surprised to see three empty glasses and a bone-dry sink. Seems the quiet man had sipped at his drink after all.

You would need to be sure to offer it again. Best to be sure if he liked it or if his mother had taught him it would be rude to reject an offer of a refreshment. Neither said anything bad about a person but it would help future interactions to know what your neighbors liked.

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

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