#and i was wondering why i was so fucking angry today. anyways..

[graveyarrdshift]

i just got my period

[orcelito]

Also the fact that it's 4/20. The holiday I "observe" (typically by making jokes) despite not being a weed smoker. And I spent all of today filled with dread, actively miserable, actively distraught, and then vaguely dissatisfied/depressed

😊✌😋 happy 4/20 to a certain dead bastard in particular

[goldenlockslo]

love when my best friend and housemate sending me messages bitching about my girlfriend to me by accident instead of one of her friends :)))

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[lizziesribbons]

So badly |

PAIRING: RICH STEPMOM! WANDA X FEM! READER

summary: Wanda is your dad's new wife and an incredibly talented business woman, you always liked her but you felt as if she didn't feel the same way about you, she was always cold with you truth be told you were too innocent to know what the real intentions behind the coldness was.

warnings: ****MINORS DNI***** *****MEN DNI***** ****CONTAINS SMUT LOTS OF SMUT****** degradation kink, hair pulling, praising, angst if you squint, mommy kink, r being head over heels in love with Wanda, Wanda being mean too mean but hot. SO HOT. squirting muahahaha, multiple orgasms, crazy crazy gay peOple, everyone's gay y'all are gay, gay gay gay. I need to drown in holy water cuz um yea.

author's note: I changed EVERYTHING CHANGED I don't know if y'all even know who I am but like anyways idek if this is gonna be a thing I just got an idea and I wrote it in my notes and now I'm posting here ‼️

Word count: 2.1k

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Wanda maximoff.

She was an intimidating woman. even her name is hot? When your dad first introduced her you immediately fell in love whenever she was around you were always squirming in her gaze, she was just too pretty too perfect. Too good for your dad. Your dad wasn't the best man in the world he was alright, he was always working always travelling he didn't have time for you or anything else that's why you were shocked when he brought her. Wanda.

Wanda was a business woman too. A successful one indeed, She had 2 twins Tommy and billy, who you instantly grew to love, you wondered how Wanda handled all of it, A husband, A business and still making enough time for her kids, she was like a super mom there was no single doubt her kids loved her. And she loved them.

Your dad was barely home so it was always just you Wanda and the twins, you never felt like Wanda liked you whenever you would try talking to her she would give you cold responses, always looking into your soul like she was angry at you. She would constantly taunt you whenever you would go outside with your friends and come home too late, or when you wore something a little too revealing. Some would say she was possessive you just thought of it as her being her grumpy self

but what you didn't know, Wanda wanted you. Every second of every day she thought about you but she knew it was wrong. so she would put up this act to hide her secret. her dirty little secret, no one except Wanda knew what kind of thoughts ran through her mind, what she did at night thinking about you when her husband was asleep beside her.

she thinks about how her fingers would feel inside you, making you scream her name, whispering all kinds of dirty things in your sweet little ears

how good it would feel to fuck you with her strap until you couldn't take it anymore, she often gets off thinking about you but you weren't aware of any of it. She sometimes thought you knew cause of how you would bend over in front of her wearing the most smallest skirts possible but she knew you were just as innocent as you look, she also knew about the crush you have on her, it was too obvious with how you would look inside her shirt every time she bent down to pick something, how quickly you would respond every time she calls for you, how flustered you would get when she's around. she wasn't blind she could see right through you.

You were always home nowadays as your college was off and your friends were either on vacation with their family or they just didn't have time. Wanda had a business event today on which she asked you to come with her as the twins were at their dad's and you would be home alone, she even picked up an outfit for you, it was a cute black dress simple and elegant not too small just how Wanda liked. She was so sweet with you today. too sweet. even offered to make your hair and do your makeup and you let her. cuz how could you deny it? you let her dress you up like you were her personal doll she gave you a kiss on the cheek that made you blush so hard Wanda immediately noticed and smirked.

the car ride from the house to where the event was being held was filled with tension. Wanda's eyes were constantly on you eating you up she noticed the way you clenched your thighs under her gaze and how you shied away every time you two would make eye contact, when you reached the destination, Wanda opened the door for you holding out her hand to you. Your fingers intertwined with hers following her between the crowd of people.

You insisted on staying behind as she went on the red carpet. admiring her you noticed how beautiful Wanda really is, she is hand-crafted by the gods you wondered how it would feel to touch her. every inch of her body you wanted to kiss her so bad the urge to do it was strong. Wanda noticed, Ofc she noticed she smirked knowing your gaze was on her and all her attention too, you looked at her coming back to you as you straightened your back and smiled at her, she held you by your waist and told you "I want you to meet some people malaysh" the nickname made you weak. you just wanted to fall on your knees and beg Wanda but you couldn't.

After meeting those people Wanda left you alone to go and sort some business deal you didn't care about. Wanda saw you laughing and chatting with some people she thought it was nice you were getting along well, until. she saw this girl put her hand on your thigh and getting too touchy. Wanda felt something burst inside her she interrupted the conversation she was having came behind you and pulled you back from your waist making you push yourself into her crotch.

Wanda looked at the girl and raised her eyebrows, the girl was out of there in a second. It was hot. so hot the power Wanda holds, you were about to ask what that was when suddenly you felt her fingers hold your ass tightly as she whispered in your ear "Stop flirting with every person you see just to get my attention" Your legs failed you as you moan slowly in wanda's grasp, her hold was bruising on you as she whispered again "don't be a whore now, go wait in the car I'll be there in a bit"

as you were waiting for her impatiently in the car and afraid of what to expect next, you heard the car door open and Wanda got in, you didn't say anything. not even a word. her too. the car ride was silent. so silent you could even hear your heartbeat and it was fast. you were sure Wanda heard it

after getting home Wanda softly told you to go and wait in her bedroom like a good girl and you did. not cuz you were a patient woman no no no you were the most impatient girl in the world according to Wanda but you just wanted to make her happy.

after a bit she came in. You saw a bulge inside her pants. looking up at her, sitting on the bed on all your fours she came up to you and held your jaw softly

"you look so good like that, on mommy's bed like a good little slut" Wanda wouldn't be at fault if she thought you came right there, and then because of the moan you let out on the nickname Wanda referred to herself as. but she shrugged it off only smirking at the sight

"strip. slowly." you start striping taking off your dress first, Wanda's eyes on you as she starts undressing herself too making you gasp at the sight of her.

"you're so beautiful," you said as you worshipped her body just by your eyes, giving herself a moment or two to smile and blush at your compliment, she said sternly "Less talking, let's put that mouth to better use yeah?"

she took off her pants and underwear revealing a scarlet strap attached to her as you look at it and drool "Open up show mommy how good of a slut you can be" she said as you open your mouth tongue out, she guide the strap inside your mouth not even half of it and you were already gagging, it was bigger than anything you've taken before but Wanda didn't care, your gags and whimper were music to her ears.

losing herself in the pleasure she started thrusting inside your mouth as you sat there drooling, she threw a sadistic smile your way and said "I think we just found the perfect way to keep your mouth shut"

Wanda pulls out suddenly, your face covered in sweat and tears, and lays down on the bed

"come here ride my strap," she said patting her lap, gasping for air your breath shaky from the previous encounter you said

"y yes mommy"

slowly, you lower yourself onto her strap, your eyes locked with hers as you whispered "It's too big"

Wanda pouted her lips with fake pity "Aw is it?" you nodded as she looked at you "Is it too big for my little whore huh?" you nodded again not breaking eye contact

"fucking say it then. you can speak" Wanda said sternly placing a sharp slap on your ass, just as you were about to say Wanda force your hips down onto her strap "Too late" You bit your lip feeling her strap penetrate deeper into your wet slit

"Mommy hurts please ah" moans and gasps. it was all you could let out as Wanda ignored all of it and thrust your hips up and down on her strap, tits bouncing with the force.

your body trembling as you take her deeper inside you, suddenly you feel a sharp slap against your tits just as a humiliating spit was delivered on your face, spit drips from your mouth onto your chest as she slaps your tits repeatedly

"Mommy too much-gonna cum please" you plead at her "Come for mommy honey let it out" You came just as soon as those words left her mouth, she didn't stop. turning you guys around so she was on top she started thrusting with all her might as the bed started moving

"you know how badly mommy wanted to fuck that pussy from the very first time she saw you huh?" she whispered in your ear making you moan as she kept thursting "How I touched myself at the thought of being inside you fucking you so deep your legs wouldn't work for weeks? it was a torture not being able to fuck you every moment I saw you I just wanted to bend you over and take you" The dirty confessions only added fuel to the fire as you were already close

"please Mommy" you said weakly as she thoroughly fucked you, the room filling with noises of skin slapping together, "Please what? say it, baby"

"please I'm gonna cum again" you say looking up at her, "cum again for me then you don't need my permission"

just as you were about to cum she reaches down to rub your clit "NO PLEASE NO!" was the last thing you said when you lost control completely and squirted everywhere, not knowing what happened you looked at Wanda who was smirking smugly as she pulled out of you slowly and took off the strap throwing it down the bed

"Mommy I've never done that I'm sorry I don't know what happened" Wanda looked you down with admiration as she cooed cupping your face "Oh baby no that's okay you did good it was so good" she softly kissed you, leaving small kisses down your neck to your stomach until she reached between your legs

"no too much, can't." you tried squirming away but her strong hands held you in place "Just trust me" She raised her eyebrows and scanned your face for any hesitations as she dived down and carefully cleaned you up making sure not to overstimulate you

she sat back up "You taste so good", blushing at her compliment you muttered a "thank you"

"so adorable" Taking you in her arms and holding you against her she whispered sweet nothings into your ear through the whole time until you fell asleep in her arms, she looked at you knowing you were hers now. for forever.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

An Unwelcome Guest (part 5)

First | Previous | Masterpost | Next

Thank you to mossycobblestonewrites for betaing for me!

----------

Something was off with Danny, he had been twitchy since earlier that day. Jason wondered if it had something to do with the meeting with Batman he’d agreed to tonight, but he didn’t think that was it. Batman didn’t scare Danny, Jason getting hurt might, but Jason was ready for this and with Danny there he wasn’t going to get hurt. 

As much as Jason wanted to let Danny talk about this when he was ready, they needed to be at their best, and on the same page. “Fox, in my office,” he demanded, using the false name Danny still went by in public after Danny had twitched one too many times. The goons around them cackled and nudged Danny with their elbow or slapped him in the shoulder, probably expecting them to go fuck which… it was a fair assumption, they did that a lot, but not today. 

Still, Danny smiled at them in a way that gave nothing away before sliding into the office after him. “So, are we here for you or me?” Danny asked, slipping past Jason to lean against the edge of the desk, smiling at him a little. 

“You,” Jason stated. It could have been him. He was pretty stressed about the meeting and he wouldn’t have minded taking it out on someone. Not today though, not when Danny was already upset. “What’s got you so twitching, Moonlight?” Jason questioned gently, stepping forward to rest his hands on Danny’s waist, forcing himself to be a calming and caring presence right now. 

“It’s nothing, Jason, really,” Danny reassured, giving Jason a small smile. 

“It’s not,” Jason argued, brushing Danny’s bangs out of his face. “I’ve never seen you this twitchy. What’s got you spooked?”

Danny looked down, unable to meet Jason’s eyes as he fought with himself, conflicted about what, or how much to say. Jason waited patiently. Danny sighed and looked back up at him. “You know I haven’t told you everything. You’ve been really good about letting me keep my secrets, and I appreciate that. I told you I wasn’t human and you didn’t push to know what I was. I appreciate that, and I’m still not ready to talk about it, But… I felt a new presence in Gotham this morning. I mean, people come and go all the time, I wouldn’t think anything of it really. But they tried to See us. I blocked their vision, but I’m worried about why they tried to look at all.

“I think that Batman might have something to do with it. I got angry when Batman tried to insist on meeting with you alone before and slipped a little. I’m worried they clocked me as not really human and if they did… what if they contact the GIW or something? I’m not ready to face them again,” Danny admitted with a small shudder. It was a very good reason to be jumpy really.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let them have you. We don’t have to go to the meeting if you don’t want to, or I can go alone,” Jason offered softly, but he knew Danny wouldn’t agree.

“No,” Danny snarled, grabbing onto Jason’s shirt. “No, I'm not letting you go alone! We’ll go, but it’s… Jason, if they try to get me I need you to run okay? Don’t try to save me. I can save myself, but not if I have to worry about you getting hurt. I just need permission to defend myself if it comes down to that. I can’t promise there won’t be collateral damage, it’s been a long time since I did anything full strength. I don’t know how… explosive it’ll be.” 

“You don’t need my permission to defend yourself,” Jason told Danny disbelievingly. “But you have it anyway,” Jason added immediately when he saw the dubious look on Danny’s face, deeply relieved when he felt his boyfriend relax slowly.

“Alright,” Danny said with a little smile, “then we’ll be fine. Let’s go ahead with the meeting,” he encouraged, stretching up to kiss Jason sweetly before they went back to work.

--------

That night Jason and Danny went home a little early. Cooking and eating a quiet dinner together, letting the calm brace them for the meeting that night. Once they were finished and cleaned up they suited up again and headed out to the meeting spot they’d arranged with Batman; a warehouse just inside their territory. They had it staked out all day so there was no chance for a trap and arrived just before the time of the meeting so they would be there first. 

Both Red Hood and Hyena were leaning against one of the pillars together, Hyena tucked under Jason’s arm when Batman and Robin came down from the rafters. Those two could never use a fucking door! Jason rolled his eyes in irritation, irritation that turned to anger when he realized they weren’t alone, shooting to stand up straight and face the newcomer. Someone was with them, a blond man in a brown trenchcoat. Constantine. 

The temperature in the room dropped nearly ten degrees. Jason shivered, looking back at Danny for an explanation. Danny’s eyes were entirely green, no whites or pupils to be seen as he stared at Constantine, who at this point, was visibly cowering. Even Batman looked shocked by the shift in the air. 

“You do Not have permission to enter My Haunt, Hellblazer,” Hyena hissed, his voice echoing oddly as he stepped forward, in front of Jason, his arm half out as if to shield him. 

“I’m so sorry! Batman insisted I come, I promise I wouldn’t have come anywhere near your turf if it was up to me!” Constantine insisted, holding his hands up placatingly. 

“Were you at least polite enough to bring an offering?” Danny questioned, his glowing eyes narrowed. 

Constantine looked panicked as he quickly patted down his pockets. It seemed like the only thing he had was a pack of cigarettes. Danny laughed at him but considered the offering anyway, cocking his head. “They’re the brand Red Hood smoked, I’ll take them,” he decided. He held out his hand and Constantine tossed the pack to him, unwilling to get closer to a potential threat.  Danny caught the pack easily and passed it off to Jason, who pocketed it. 

“You smoke?” Batman asked Jason, sounding betrayed for some reason. 

“Really!? That’s what you’re worried about right now?!” Constantine squeaked at Batman indignantly. 

Danny cackled, shaking his head at them before looking at Batman with a thoughtful expression. “I’m assuming you brought him because you have questions and suspicions,” Danny asked with some disdain. 

“And here I thought this meeting was because you wanted to see me,” Jason put in, holding his hands to his chest as if he was hurt. 

“It is! I do! I’m just worried about you, this isn’t like you and if-” Batman started, sounding more and more like Bruce before Jason interrupted. 

“If what? If he's manipulating me?” Jason scoffed, and shook his head. “He’s not, and you don’t fucking know me!” 

Danny looked back and forth between all parties present before shrugging. “Do you know what I am, Hellblazer?” He asked curiously, looking back at Constantine, who hesitated, and then shook his head. “Do you have any skill with magic?” Danny continued. Constantine hesitated again, and then nodded. “Good. I will let you cast One spell, for honesty. Not to be forced to answer, not to bind me, but One spell circle to ensure I won’t lie. Then you,” he said looking at Batman defiantly, “can ask me your questions.” 

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Jason asked, reaching out to grab Danny’s arm gently. “You don’t have to, you know it doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Ya, Jason was a little freaked out by the change in Danny here, but it didn’t really matter right now. They could talk about it later. 

“I know it doesn’t, but there are some things I want to tell you too, and this will make it easier,” Danny reassured Jason, clearly smiling behind his mask. 

“Um, if you’re sure?” Constantine hesitated, reluctant to piss Hyena off. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll watch you make the circle,” Danny confirmed, stepping forward as Constantine started to draw the circle. “You were the one who tried to spy earlier today, huh?” Danny asked and Constantine flinched.

“Ya, sorry about that,” Constantine apologized, his hands remaining steady as he drew, despite the nervousness in his voice

“Don’t worry about it. I’m relieved to know who it was,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “Just don’t try that again,” Danny added, shooting Constantine a glare. 

The silence was heavy as Constantine finished the circle. Danny gave a satisfied nod as he stepped inside. The signs activated, glowing gold and then green. Danny seemed relaxed and comfortable again. “Right, spells’ active. I won’t answer everything but I can’t lie. Ask away,” Danny said smiling at Jason and spreading his arms a little. 

It was Batman who managed to ask first; “What are your intentions with my Son?”

“To fuck him on every flat surface from here to Star City,” Danny stated, completely seriously, making Jason burst out laughing, Constantine choke, and Batman look like he’d bitten a lemon. “And to love him, truly and unconditionally,” he added, his expression softening as he looked back at Jason. 

“I love you too, Cub,” Jason said fondly. He switched his attention to Batman with a frown, “I am Not your son. Fuck you.” 

The lemon-bitten expression on Batman’s face got worse. 

“What are you?” Constantine asked hesitantly and Danny shrugged. 

“I’m a myth. If I told you what I am you’d probably think the spell failed rather than thinking I was telling the truth. I am an impossibility and a fact. That’s as much as I’m willing to say,” he declared, glancing at Batman. 

Jason bit down another laugh at how dramatic and romantic Danny made it sound. Though it did make him wonder What exactly Danny was. 

“Are you human?” Jason asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted Batman to hear it. 

“I was human, not that long ago, and I’m not Not human now. I am as much human as I am anything else.” Danny mused, giving Jason a look that told him Danny knew he was being a little shit, and he was enjoying it. Honestly, that he had ever been fully human was news to Jason, he thought Danny had always been half. Had it been the tests that made him Something Else? Some new version of those chemically induced Metas?

“How powerful are you?” Batman, again.

“I don’t entirely know, it’s been a few years since I’ve really tested my limit,” Danny admitted with a little frown, “I do know the last time I was measured, I could have theoretically fought Superman and won without much trouble.” Behind him, Jason whistled softly, impressed. “I don’t use them because I’m not great at pulling my punches and I don’t want to damage Red Hood’s city.”

Constantine was glaring at Batman and making a quite clearly telegraphed ‘See?! I told you so!’ motion. Batman did not look pleased. 

Hood stepped a little closer to the edge of the circle, drawing Danny’s full attention, turning more towards him. “That was why you asked me for permission to defend yourself if you needed to before we came here?” Danny nodded, looking a little bashful. “So you’d use them if I asked you too?” Red Hood asked. Danny hesitated, then nodded again. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he confessed. The honesty was ragged, it dropped heavily into Jason’s chest as he realized the true weight and responsibility of that. 

“Do you have a deal with him?” Constantine asked Danny, gesturing at Jason.

“No, no deal, no contract. I can’t be bound by such things,” Danny said, shaking his head. 

Constantine looked a little green at that, though the non-magically inclined people in the room don’t know why. “Then why…”

“Because I love him. Because he gave me purpose and Home when I had none. Humanity ripped my haunt away from me and desecrated my grave. I don’t want to think about what I could have become if he hadn’t found me,” Danny admitted with a little smile, looking down almost bashfully. 

“Your grave? So you are dead?” Constantine asked. Batman had fallen silent, probably pretty lost.

“There are many ways to be dead or undead, and having died is not the same thing as being dead,” Danny said loftily. 

Jason was pretty sure he was enjoying being cryptic and mysterious, it made him snort an inelegant laugh. That made Danny’s mysterious composure break and he cackled as well, grinning back at Jason from behind his muzzle, so familiar and wonderful. Jason loved him, no matter what he was. 

Danny’s eyes were back to normal as he looked back at Constantine and Batman. “What you need to know is that I am not a demon or a monster. I am not controlling or manipulating anyone, though I probably could if I tried. I have Claimed Crime Alley as my haunt on Red Hood’s behalf because I am loyal to him. I have no interest in the rest of Gotham, or in the rest of the world for that matter. Stay out of our way and you have nothing to fear from me.” Danny splayed his hands in a peace gesture. 

After a few moments of silence, with no more questions, Danny steps out of the circle and ducked back behind Jason. He could feel Danny press against his back, leaning against him a bit more heavily then he normally would, betraying how much this had taken out of him. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Jason said, crossing his arms and glaring at Batman. 

“But-” Batman started, sounding startled. “No! Next time, maybe try meeting in good faith without any uninvited guests. If you pull any shit like this again there won’t be any more chances,” Jason warned before turning away, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders and ushering him out. Making a hand gesture to the waiting goons and gunmen as they left, signaling them to make sure Batman and Constantine left as Jason took Danny home. Not that it was needed, Constantine practically ran as soon as he got the chance.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling my boyfriend out after a party after he very Frenchly insulted our cooking?

I (25M) am dating J (27M), and we live together. For the most part he's wonderful, super sweet, and perhaps the most French man living today. He's a walking stereotype, right down to the sexiness. He's Parisian (we live in the states) and has a huge obsession with wine and cheese, and I'll be honest, he can be pretty snobby. He was raised by some well to do old money family that disowned him when they found out he was gay and it shows. He has a few antiquated ideas of what America is like, especially when it comes to food. Anything that has roots he doesn't recognize gets criticized. It's a classism problem, we recognize that, and he is trying to work on it. He slips up sometimes.

We went to a housewarming party two nights ago. It was a potluck deal and I brought a beef chili I had been working on for like two days, it was my pride and joy, and J didn't even have anything bad to say to me about it.

Anyway, an hour or so into the party we went to get food. He had a few glasses of wine, so he wasn't quite thinking straight. It turns out somebody brought homemade Frito pie (and pretty fancy frito pie too, with jalapeños and sour cream and pico de gallo, it was amazing and delicious and I am still dreaming about it), I'm southwestern and it was a staple for me growing up so I tripped over myself trying to get at it. He noticed how eager I was and scoffed at me. I asked what was so funny, and he said it was baffling that I'd go for that first since it was "comically American, down to the fried chips riddled in it." I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

Turns out the friend who made it was standing a few feet away and overheard him. She told us that she worked super hard on making the chili and cooking the pie, and if he didn't like it, he didn't have to have any. I was so fucking mortified I felt like dying. I apologized on his behalf and we stayed for a bit longer, but I was so embarrassed and angry that we left about an hour after that. I couldn't make myself have a good time. As a bit of an apology I left our friend a container of the chili I made and said if she wanted to make a pie out of it I'd be honored, and she happily accepted.

This is where I may be TA. As soon as we got in the car I blew up at him. I told him that he disrespected my culture, my cooking, my taste, and worst of all, embarrassed me in front of a friend and insulted something that brought her joy. I said "if you see Americans as so lazy, stupid, fat, and disgusting, then why are you even living here? Why the fuck do you even wanna be with me? Am I just the only good one to you?" I was laying into him for about 5 minutes. It was the worst fight we'd ever been in, not that we get in many.

He got really quiet after that and just muttered out an "I'm sorry." We were silent the ride home and we went straight to bed when we got there. I even heard him sniffling when we were trying to fall asleep, which was heartbreaking and started to make me feel like I'd fucked up, too. He's been distant for the last few days and I feel like I need to apologize.

Do I? Was I TA? I just got so upset that I couldn't take it anymore. I really love him and I just keep worrying that any second he's gonna say he wants to break up, and I never want that to happen. Any advice is appreciated.

[jockwrites]

LUST - p.b

hi this is chapter two lol

warnings: angst, asshole paige

part: 2

a/n: this is pretty short lol. also the songs i put are basically what the chapters are based off of! sorry if that wasn’t clear, it’s basically some “playlist” thing i see other writers do!! 🙂‍↕️ also im basically putting you guys on..

its been 6 days since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend.

you and paige have been hanging out every day since, and you can say these have been the best days since you two have met.

right now, she’s at practice. that means you’re all by yourself.

you decide you wanna go down to the lobby, maybe grab a few snacks.

you check your phone before you leave, no calls or texts. that’s boring, and it sucks.

anyway

you put on your slippers and head out. as you’re walking you see paige’s teammate, ayanna.

“hey, ayanna. don’t you guys have practice?” you ask.

“huh? practice is tommorow” she says, laughing.

but you found nothing about that sentence funny. at all.

“well.. paige told me you guys have practice today?” you say confused.

“well blondie is lying. why she tell you that?”

“i don’t know. she said she had to leave for practice around like 1 earlier and i haven’t heard from her since.” you say, annoyed.

“whattt? girl its 9pm. no practice lasts that long regardless.. how vulnerable are you?” she says, giggling.

“ok shut up. can u text her? ask where she is? pleaseee?” you ask with puppy dog eyes.

“alright alright. gimme a minute,” she pulls out her phone, going to text paige.

as she texts her, you see her expression change. she’s looking weird.

“what is it? where is she?” you say, worried.

“she’s- she’s at her cousins.” she says nervously.

“are you lying?”

“no? i’m not. but i gotta go, ill see you around.” she speaks, walking away hurriedly.

you look around, wondering if you’re crazy.

you pull your phone out of your pocket, going to text paige.

hey, where r u?

you sit and wait. might as well get your rice krispy treat you’ve been wanting.

you walk over to the vending machine, putting in the dollar to buy your treat.

*ding*

*ding*

*ding*

“holy shit what the fuck dude” you whisper to yourself as you get 3 messages back to back from your friend.

you open the messages, and your heart instantly drops.

“what. the. fuck.” you say in your mind.

what the fuck? don’t you guys like .. idk talk?

that’s exactly what your friends message reads.

it’s three pictures of paige walking with some girl. and the third picture..

they’re holding hands.

all of a sudden, an incoming call pops up on your screen from your friend.

“holy shit girl isn’t that your little girlfriend?” says your friend over the phone.

“dude. where are you? how’d you get those?”

“i’m at chick fil a right now, and then i seen THEEE paige bueckers like omg woah then i see her with some girl that wasn’t you and that’s definitely like a omggggg woahhh reaction and so i-” she rambled.

“shut up for a second jesus. holding hands is like actually crazy. alright i gotta go.”

“alright bye babe but talk to her or something and fill me in on the tea pleaseee ok bye love you!!!”

you hang up. you don’t know how to feel right now.

you’re so overstimulated.

you walk back to your room, tears ready to fall from your eyes.

you check the message you sent earlier, and you realize you’ve been on read for ten minutes.

you put down your phone & sit back against your head board. you’re so confused, so upset, so angry.

you feel so stupid.

you start to cry, looking back on everything you’ve done for her. everything you’ve done with her.

she turned you gay, she made you breakup with your boyfriend, and now she’s cheating.

not necessarily cheating, since you guys aren’t technically together.

but that doesn’t matter, you’re off limits to other people and she’s supposed to be.

you don’t hold hands with your cousin like that.

after about 20 minutes of crying, you hear your door open. and speak of the devil, it’s paige.

she walks in, noticing you crying and immediately comes over to you.

“woah woah baby, what’s wrong? are you okay?” she says, confused.

“who is the girl.”

“what? who?”

“the girl! who is she paige?” you yell.

“i don’t know who youre talking about.”

“you know exactly what and who the fuck i’m talking about dude?!” you jeered.

“chill the fuck out,” she tempted, “and if you want me to be honest, she’s just a friend of mine.”

“nobody holds hands like that with their friends. you’re a liar.”

“no way you’re calling me a liar now. i said she was my friend and that’s what the fuck i said. drop it.”

“drop it? you literally said im off limits to other people, so how does that change for you?”

“it doesn’t. i’m just saying, she’s just a friend.”

“whatever paige. i don’t even know how you could do this to me after everything we’ve done for and to each other.” you whine.

“don’t act like a baby now. i’m not the bad person here, you are.” she huffs.

“how the fuck could you even say that?”

“well i’m not the person who left their boyfriend for a girl! i don’t know what you’d expect from me.” she snaps.

“what the fuck? you made me leave him paige! you asked, you convinced, you nagged. don’t flip this shit on me!” you snap back.

“well maybe i wanted to have a little fun. that’s all it fucking was.” she says, an angry look in her eyes.

“take a look around paige, nothing about this is fun to me. read the room. think about how i would’ve felt.”

“how the hell did you even find out?”

“doesn’t matter. don’t flip the subject.” you sass.

“whatever. i don’t know why you thought we were more than a hookup anyway. you’re obsessed and crazy.”

your heart drops. you immediately turn away from her, tears about to form in your eyes.

“get the fuck out.” you snarked.

“alright. i’ll do that then.”

“bye. don’t come back.”

and just like that, you hear the door close. she actually left.

tears immediately start flowing. you feel so hurt, neglected, ridiculed.

you cannot believe the words that came out of her mouth, after everything.

you sniffle and cry, thinking back on the memories you two had.

it would be insane to say it wasn’t more than a hookup. but you guess it was.

as you slowly cry yourself to sleep, you realize this was a mistake.

a/n: hi so this is horrible but pls stay tuned for next chapter, maybe smut maybe not 👅 also someone teach me how to make a masterlist pls??!!!

[honeygrahambitch]

"He is...he is..." Will said as he looked at the pictures taken at the crime scene. "Frustrated. He is not trying hard to impress with his murder spree, he is angry and he wants to draw our attention, it's not his design that matters, it's... something else." Will added as he paced back and forth in Hannibal's dining room, trying to put together everything he knew. "He is feeling...fuck if I know."

Hannibal sighed softly and started arranging the pictures into a pile.

"I am not done, let me pull myself together." He said as he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"It's more than enough for tonight." Hannibal replied and as soon as ge gathered the pictures he headed towards Will and placed a hand on his forehead.

Will did not try to escape his touch.

"You're burning."

"One of my dogs got lost last night and I went to look for him. It was cold."

"Why didn't you stay home today? You could have come here, I would have cooked for you and made sure you are actually taken care of." Hannibal said and realized he might have overstepped.

"I can take care of myself."

Hannibal arched an eyebrow in a loving way. He sighed relived when Will laughed.

"As self-reliant as I am, when I was driving to work this morning I considered just coming straight to you. And I know you would have hidden me from Jack Crawford."

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat. Will had wanted to seek shelter in his home.

"I would definitely have. Why didn't you?"

"I can't just run away from work whenever I feel like it." Will said as he tapped the edge of the table with his fingers. He was fidgeting. "Besides, you can't plan your life around my problems."

What if he would just inform him that all his problems paled when it came to him? He would indeed abandon everything if Will needed something from him.

"I can certainly try. I made pancakes this morning." Hannibal said, earning another smile from Will. "Just know that I could never mind your unplanned visits."

"Thank you. If you did, you would be the worst husband in the world, anyway."

"I already feel like the worst husband in the world since we are living in two different states, darling. The least I can do is to make sure you don't ignore your fever."

"I believe the most beautiful aspect of our relationship is that we get to keep it just for us. I don't want them to know." he said, referring to Jack, Alana, Chilton, Freddie Lounds even. "They don't deserve to know."

The last sentence melted Hannibal. Even though he would have preferred to tell everyone about the fact that he has the most wonderful husband in the world, he agreed to Will's perspective. Those people really did not deserve to know. Not only because of the judgmental glances, neither of them cared about that. It was the fact that they wouldn't understand.

"Did you find your dog?"

"Yes. So stupid. Found him with a frozen squirrel. He was quite disappointed that I wasn't impressed."

"I get just as excited about my prey."

"You do." Will agreed. "I hate to say this but would it make you happier if I spent the night here?"

Hannibal thought he hadn't heard it well. He grabbed Will's hand and held it to his chest, as if he was trying to check if he had been indeed genuine.

"So you get to take care of me. And I don't feel like the worst husband in the world. And you too."

"Then neither of us is the worst in the world. Yes, that would make me very happy." Hannibal left a kiss on Will's hand.

One day I might stop driving back to my place, Will thought as for a second, the simple thought of making this man happy felt enough.

[daydreams-after-dark]

PLS I NEED A FIC WHERE BIG DICK HAN IS TIED UP AND EDGED FOR HOURS BY M!READER UNTIL HE SHAKES AND WHINES 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

"h-hyung, p-please, I'm begging, I need to- ah-!" (Edged again) "Please h-hyung, it really hurts, it hurts" then he cries then you edge him for another hour 😩😩

Edge and ruin his damn orgasm atleast 20 times and he will literally cry and beg and shake just to cum

(in my Dom era, yes I like being both so I read both XDDDDDDDD)

So, after a little chat behind the scenes, @chuuchuu1224 is happy for me write this as a Minsung piece 😃 I don’t think I’ve ever written them by themselves before 🤔 … anyway we’re going classic Minsung with a needy Ji and a domming Min.

Hope you like it 😘 x. Sorsha

“M-min…p-please…” whined Jisung. “Need to cum… please…please let me…baby, please!”

“Shh! What did I say about your whining, Hmm?” Minho said coldly. “Just shut up and take your punishment.”

“I’m s-sorry, hyung!” He sobbed.

Jisung had been tied to bed for 3 hours now, and he was almost at breaking point. He looked a sight. He was completely naked, sweating, his big delicious cock swollen, angry and leaking, resting against his taut abs. Tears running down his cheeks.

Minho thought he looked perfect being this helpless. That’s why he has really taken his time to tease torment his lover. Just like he himself had been tortured all week by Jisung.

For the past six days he’d been teasing Minho, avoiding his touch and ignoring his glances, flirting with Hyunjin. Grr. It’d been driving him fucking crazy. Cock tease. “I promise you’re gonna pay for this.” He’d told him the other night. He was met with an attitude of “what are ya gonna do about it?”

Well, now Jisung knew exactly what Minho was doing about it.

“You can’t do this to me!!! Aahhh p-please.” He scrunched his eyes as he sobbed loudly.

Minho hovered over Jisung’s cock, taking it in his hand and squeezing it slightly.

“Fuuuccckkk!!! H-Hyung… stop teasing… I’m gonna die!”

Minho licked the dribbling pre-cum from the tip. It was probably the fifteenth time he’d done so today. Edging poor Ji until he was almost there, then simply licking the precum away and leaving him writhing on the bed.

His balls were so tight and painful looking too. Minho wondered how he’d react if he squeezed them?

“Hyung!!!!” He sobbed. Minho smirked.

“Sungie. You need to listen very carefully. I’m going to untie you now. But only so you can roll onto your stomach. Then you’re going to be tied again. No funny business.”

Jisung whined. “O-okay…”

Minho repositioned Jisung so he was lying on his stomach, arms stretched and tied above his head. He immediately started grinding against the bedspread.

“Ahh… fuck!”’ Jisung squealed as a hard slap landed on his ass.

“No grinding.” Growled Minho.

He bit his lower lip as he caressed the curve of Jisung’s back, causing the boy to shudder, then parting his cheeks and nestling his face between them to lick his hole.

A low groan came from Jisung as Minho ate him out. He knew it would drive him absolutely crazy. But there was something that he knew would really torture his poor boyfriend. He slipped a finger into his hole. Just to the first knuckle. He gently thrust into him one, two, three times, then removed his finger entirely.

“Fuck you, Minho! When I’m not tied up I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.” He growled, trying to look back at him.

So he was at the stage of throwing threats now? He’d already begged and bargained to no avail. Desperate, needy boy.

“I mean it. I’m gonna fuck you up—aaahhh. F-fuck.”

Minho couldn’t hold out any longer and laid himself on top of Jisung and pushed his cock into his tight ass.

“Min…fuck…fuck…I’m… fuck you’re deep. P-please…ngh…”

Three deep, precise thrusts from Minho, and Jisung came with his cock squished between his stomach and the mattress. He shook and convulsed underneath Minho, making him almost come too.

“Min….no…too… it’s too much!”

“Shut up. Don’t you fucking know how much I’ve wanted to be buried in your ass this week?” He panted as he snapped his hips.

“Hyung…I love you.” Whimpered Jisung into the matress.

Minho’s thrusts halted for just s moment as his heart burst inside his chest.

“I love you too, Sungie. But for now I need to be a good little cocksleeve for me and be quiet.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

[passivenovember]

(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

--

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red. 

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here-- 

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag. 

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows. 

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close. 

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar. 

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him? 

About his bones and blood. 

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--” 

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull. 

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

--

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue. 

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking. 

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black. 

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back. 

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness. 

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him, 

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock. 

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong. 

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies. 

If it kills him. 

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers. 

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington?  What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away. 

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky. 

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks. 

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks. 

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this. 

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

--

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt. 

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard. 

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door. 

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up. 

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him. 

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy. 

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?” 

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him. 

He smells like peaches. 

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch. 

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare. 

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image. 

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Billy stops. Waits. 

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning. 

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And. 

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does. 

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now. 

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then. 

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy. 

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

[ozzy-boy]

Hii! Volks, Scale and Cole's reaction (separately) if someone calls their s/o ugly?

Volks:

-Volks doesn't do social media. He doesn't have any and he doesn't look at it either.

-He finds the whole thing kind of ridiculous anyway- why would you care what strangers online have to say? You show him cute videos of dogs sometimes though, so he figures it can't all be bad.

-When Volks notices that you're a little downtrodden, he doesn't suspect that social media would be the cause.

-You brush him off and say that it's stupid when he asks what's wrong, which immediately rubs him the wrong way.

-He's your boyfriend- he doesn't care if it's stupid, if something is bothering you, he wants to know.

-If you keep trying to avoid it he'll end up putting his forehead against yours and staring into your eyes until you say it.

-You eventually give in and admit that someone called you ugly under one of the new pictures you posted.

-Normally Volks would probably agree that it's stupid to be upset over a stranger's opinion, but that kind of thing doesn't bother him. You're more sensitive than he is though. (unbothered king)

-He assures you it isn't true and is extra sweet for a while to make you feel better. He also goes on your phone later and deletes any comments that aren't compliments (even if it takes him a while to figure out how bc he's an old man with technology 💀)

Scale:

-Scale isn't huge on social media either, but he makes accounts so he can like your posts and so you can send him things.

-Honestly if he didn't have the whole 'assassin secret identity' thing going on, he'd probably post stuff about his workout routine. He's fine just sending those videos to you, though ;)

-He likes to go to your insta and look at your pictures when he's having a rough day with training, just as a little pick-me-up.

-Though, today he notices a comment under your most recent post.

-Immediately confused. ("Huh?")

-Refreshing the page constantly, as if expecting it to be a mistake. ("Who?")

-You? Ugly??? ("What?????")

-Genuinely dumbfounded. He's never heard something so ridiculous in his life.

-You're equally confused a few hours later when you log on and see your boyfriend getting in an online slapfight with a random person under your post.

-It's very endearing that Scale is so willing to go to bat and defend you but you're gonna have to give him a lesson in online safety and teach him how to block people that make him angry and move on -_-

Cole:

-Cole is your number 1 fan he has all your accounts on notification. He is your first like on every post.

-He kind of hates that your pictures are online for anyone to see but he deals with it. He has his own collection of pictures to admire but he often refreshes your pages to see what you're up to.

-While you're out together one day you decide to take a quick photo and post it since you're feeling cute.

-It's not until a while later that Cole watches you check your phone, only for a sad look to pass over your features. He quickly investigates, and finds a bubbling anger rising in his chest when he finds that someone's insulted you.

-'I have to kill this guy right fucking now-'

-'No, no, calm down Cole. You need to keep your cool in front of Marshmallow.'

-'Wait a second, they look sad. I'm going to kill-'

-Cole does a few deep breathing exercises, gets his head on straight and repeatedly tells himself that he can't run off to track down an internet stranger while you're sad.

-"My darling, have I told you how wonderful you look today...?"

-He spends the next several hours spoiling and complimenting as much as you'll allow.

-After all, you need no one else but him.

[3liza]

I have to go to a wedding today and was told "no dogs" and decided not to cause a Service Dog Disability Rights Incident out of the pure goodness of my heart, so Churchgrim was dropped off at Simon's place last night to be babysat. Grim has something about him--size or maybe some secret dog problem related to ear set or posture--that makes small dogs absolutely feral around him, despite Grim himself being so averse to violence that he got into a "fight" with a raccoon once and never even tried to bite it. so immediately upon our arrival he had three dachshunds screaming bloody murder at him while everyone tried to speed-desensitize the ringleader with freeze dried duck treats. bless him, Grim can have a hostile dog barking and snapping directly in his face for an hour and all he does is sit there looking dumb like "WOW KIND OF NOISY IN HERE HUH". one of the little terrors even nipped his muzzle when he accidentally stepped over her while trying to move past, and all he did was get out of the way and look put-upon.

the little dogs will eventually run out of energy and they need to be socialized with big dogs anyway so this was a predicted outcome and everyone was prepared to deal with it, but it is so sad to see Grim just standing in the middle of a swarm of angry little critters, slowly wagging his tail and wondering why everything has to be a federal fucking issue

[teardrop-scales]

For once a number one

(Adam x female!reader)

A.N: this is purely self indulgent, but I decided to publish this anyway. Hurt-comfort I guess and general fluff, although this is Adam we're talking about, so of course there are swear words and some suggestive stuff.

Please note that english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Also, my Adam is probably ooc.

(Also I suck at beginnings, endings and titles, sorry ><)

You don't even hear him come in.

No wonder, since you are currently blasting his band's music on full volume. Mostly 'Stick it to the man' to be honest; until now it always helped you cheer up and relax a little if you were angry at something or someone. But this time even this wasn't helping. Still you refuse to turn it off because you love your boyfriend's voice and his music (even though you won't ever tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is).

So here you are, laying on the couch with 'Stick it to the Man' blasting in the background, still in your more formal and nicer clothes, not even having the strength to change into more comfy ones, only forcing yourself to take off your boots once you got inside.

Pathetic much.

And so, that's why you almost have a heart attack when the loud music suddenly stops and you hear the voice of your boyfriend, this time talking and standing a few meters away from the couch.

"Heyyy, I see your music taste is still intact, babes! Though if you wanted to hear my singing, you could've just asked me for a private concert. For a price, 'course~."

You don't bother to look up at him, but you can imagine the smug grin on his face and the wiggling of his eyebrows.

To be honest, you thought you had more time until Adam comes home. You didn't want him to see you like this. He never was very good at this 'mushy, sappy emotional shit' (his words). And you really don't have the strength now to deal with his mocking and teasing.

So you just groan in response.

Even though Adam isn't usually really good at reading people and their emotions, your state makes it clear even for him that something is wrong.

"Geez, the fuck is up your ass?" He hisses, walking towards the couch and putting a cold palm on your forehead to check for fever. "You sick or somethin'?"

You, albeit a bit reluctantly, swat his hand away.

"I'm not sick. I have some other problems, you wouldn't understand." You respond, still laying on the couch, pathways made from tears still visible and fresh on your cheeks.

Adam scoffs and puts his hands on his hips.

"Try me, bitch."

You finally look him in the eyes, skeptically.

"Are you really gonna listen to me yap about this? Without cutting me off and mocking me?" Somehow you want him to both go away and stay right beside you.

"You always listen to me when I'm fucking mad at something and need to talk it out." He shrugs. "The least I can do is return the favor for once, since I'm so generous and in a good mood today. Now move your ass."

Adam makes the 'shoo' gesture with his hand, and you move a bit to the side on the couch, making space for him to sit down. Once he plops down on the couch, you put your head in his lap.

"Where to even start." You say in a bit of a sarcastic manner, your voice breaking just a bit once again.

You tell him everything, somehow managing to not break down again during the tale. You tell him how your friend got bored of you when another, seemingly more interesting and fun person than you appeared. How when the tree of you hang out, they paid more attention to the new person, only rarely talking to you and when they did, they were a lot colder towards you. It wasn't fucking fair. You were there longer and you always tried your best to be a good friend, the best you could be. And it still wasn't enough.

Surprisingly, Adam kept his promise and didn't cut you off even once. Instead, he was on his phone the whole time, but with his other hand he played with your hair. He only let out some hums of acknowledgement every now and then, not looking at you at all. It may have seemed like he was disinterested in your problem, but the way his fist clenched around the strands of your hair during certain parts of your story suggested otherwise.

"...and that's the situation." You sigh heavily finishing your rant after a while.

Adam scoffs and puts his phone down.

"Well, what do you want me to say, bitch?" He shrugs. "I mean, yeah, sure sucks to be you I guess, but why the fuck are ya getting so worked up over this?"

"Well, that's because--"

"Honestly, thought you were tougher than that. Thought you were a badass, not a pathetic little cunt--"

"Adam, you promised you wouldn't cut me off." You remind him coldly, lifting your head from his lap and glaring at him.

Adam rolls his eyes.

"Fine, fine, jeez." He tsks. "Sorry, babe."

You stay quiet for a few seconds, searching for the right words. This is tricky, your boyfriend is not the best at dealing with emotions like this. He can't relate because he has a totally different strategy when someone doesn't like him. Heck, most of Heaven doesn't like him, he just doesn't seem to care. He always makes it seem so easy. You envy him in that aspect, you envy his ability to not give a fuck.

"You know what?" You finally say, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I wouldn't care if this was a first situation like this. I wouldn't give a damn. But the truth is, this happens to me every single motherfucking time I manage to form a meaningful relationship with someone." Despite your best efforts, frustration tears appear in your eyes. "I'm tired of this. Tired of being thrown aside once everyone gets bored of me, tired of always being second-best, of being the spare friend and 'number two'. "

You shake your head and then say quietly:

"I bet sooner or later you're gonna get bored of me and leave too."

Silence falls. You don't dare to look Adam in the eyes as you sit beside him on the couch, but at a slight distance.

You're not looking at him, so you fail to notice the flabbergasted and almost offended look on his face.

"The FUCK!?" Adam suddenly breaks the silence with his angry shout as you look at him confused. "I'm not fucking going anywhere! You're stuck with me babes, whether you like it or not. Also, geez, I know I'm a major jerk but I'm not like those trash you call friends!"

You finally dare to look at him, amazed. He really seems put off by your suggestion. You feel your heart flutter at his words and his statement that he isn't gonna leave no matter what. Despite his many flaws, Adam always has been very loyal and dedicated to you. You feel ashamed that you doubted him. Before you can apologize however, he continues his rant:

"And anyway, fuck them--"

You raise an eyebrow in amusement at his wording. Adam sees your expression and scowls before smirking.

"Look who's dirty minded now, bitch~" He teases you, earning a light slap on the shoulder.

Adam chuckles and you roll your eyes, but with a small smile dancing on your lips.

"Whatever." You say, wanting him to continue.

"I meant like, stop giving a fuck about those fake-ass people, y'know! You fucking rock babe, and if they can't see that, it's their loss. Don't waste your precious time on those who don't deserve it."

Your smile kept growing the longer he kept talking. Of course, his rant didn't magically solve your problem, you were still mad and sad, but less now. Because now you are sure that Adam will always be on your side.

"...you should focus on people who really deserve your time. Like me." Adam finishes with a smug grin as you slap his arm lightly, both of you chuckling.

Then you climb in his lap and hug him by the neck, minding the spikes on his collar, but still pressing your face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Adam smells of his usual cologne and you can sense a faint scent of ribs, which he must've had for lunch.

"Thank you, honey." You say softly. "I think I needed to hear that."

You can feel the First Man shiver slightly at the sweet nickname. You know that that's his weakness, even though he always tries to act like he doesn't like it.

You wait for him to tease you or try to make this moment sexual like he usually does. You expect Adam to go back to his usual annoying self. But instead, he sighs through his nose and slowly wraps his arms around your back and waist, hugging you tightly and pressing you even more into his soft chest and stomach. He even wraps his beautiful golden wings around you for extra comfort.

"Anytime, sweetie." Adam says softly while caressing your back gently.

Something swells in your chest at the nickname he almost never uses. The only times Adam uses this particular one is when he's mocking you or someone or when he's feeling especially soft and at ease. Even though you two have been dating for quite some time now, you only recall one or two instances of him using "sweetie" as a nickname for you in a soft manner, not counting now of course.

You smile into his neck and raise your head slightly to press a kiss to his cheek.

You both stay silent for a while, just enjoying each other's presence and touch.

"You know" Adam says suddenly, still embracing you. "If you need friends or some shit, I can set up a meeting for you with my girls and Lute. They've been up my ass recently about wanting to 'get to know you' ".

"That's actually not a bad idea." You reply, pressing your cheek against his.

"Yeah, it's a win-win situation, babe." Adam muses, squeezing you momentarily. "You get new friends, and I get some fucking peace from their pestering."

You giggle.

You were scared to talk to him about your problems, knowing how he is. But now you realize that was stupid. Adam is a jerk to everyone but you. He's always been more patient, gentle and soft with you than with anyone else. You feel really ashamed for thinking he wouldn't listen to you and support you in your problems, even if they are trivial to him.

"I'm sorry for not believing that you'd listen to me and my problems." You sigh. "And I'm sorry for saying that you'd leave me and comparing you to my ex-friends."

"Yeah, you should be fucking sorry." Adam grumbles, grabbing you to lean you away from him a bit and then embracing your face with his palms. "You're one of the best things to ever happen to me, truly babe. I love you, you're my bitch and I wouldn't trade you for anyone."

You smile brightly, placing your smaller hands on his bigger ones on your cheeks. Then Adam continues before you can say anything, like he usually does.

"And if I ever hear you doubting yourself like that again, I'll literally fuck these thoughts out of you. I'll fuck you until you start to see yourself as a motherfucking goddess." He threatens with a grin.

You laugh. This time not a giggle or chuckle, but a big, bubbly laugh. You don't fail to notice the soft, fleeting smile which appears on your boyfriend's face at the sound of you laughing, but don't comment on it.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darling." You tease after you calm down, putting your hands on his cheeks and squeezing them a bit. "I love you too."

Then you lean towards him and carefully place your lips on his in a gentle kiss. And for once, Adam doesn't make the kiss more heated, instead kissing you back just as softly.

For once, you feel completely and utterly loved and appreciated. For once you're someone's number one.

[via-l0ve]

ok so hear me out, ( Supernatural), french mistake where they find out that the actor/actress who plays their s/o is dating a different castmate and having to watch them kiss and be all lovey dovey with eachother.

Alternative Universe (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: i fucking LOVE this episode. i also love this prompt. thank you so much anon, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Dean:

he’s looking for you - you’re his top priority

being called ‘Jensen’ left and right all he wants is to see his wonderful s/o and have something normal

he turns the corner and sees you

“oh my god. yes. y/n!”

and then he walks closer

you’re kissing fucking castiel

“what the fuck??”

“hey!! y/n!!”

you pull away all confused.

“hey.. dean?”

“since when are you dating cas?”

side eye

“Jensen… you okay? Misha and I have been dating for like… ever.”

he’s gobsmacked

“what the hell.”

he walks away

he’s so angry

you guys are holding hands and smiling and he’s STARING YOU DOWN

“hey y/n. when do we kiss on screen?”

“um… i think today? why?”

he’s making sure you guys get to that kiss scene

“that do anything for you?”

“Jensen!”

definitely holds a grudge when he goes back and he sees castiel

—

Sam:

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. if there was a word for sam it would be Flabbergasted

he’s searching around frantically for you bc where tf is he and wtf is going on. why are people calling him Jared??

anyways

he sees you and he’s so happy

“hey y/n!”

you smile over at him and wave.

“hey!! whatcha doin?”

“just looking for you. aren’t you freaked out?”

“um… should i be freaked out?”

he’s confused now.

He’s even MORE confused when GODDAMN Dean Winchester comes up to you and kisses you on the cheek

him^

“dean??!” he’s shocked.

“oh. are we supposed to be in character right now?” -jensen

“what the hell?” sam is CONFUSED

“Jared.. you good? you okay?”

he walks away

“i have to get out of whatever hell this is..”

when he gets back he can’t look at Dean the same lmfao

—

Castiel:

Cas is trying to keep his cool but who tf is misha

he finds you and he’s so happy

finally someone he knows that he knows

PLOT TWIST

you turn around and MOTHERFUCKING CROWLEY IS KISSING YOU

cas rn^

he’s SO SAD

“y/n.”

“oh! hey Misha!”

“not you too!!”

awww poor baby

apologize RIGHT NOW.

he gets back and is so happy to see you

he’s hugging you and won’t let you near crowley

—

Crowley:

he sees you kissing sam mf winchester and is SO DISTRAUGHT

“y/n!!”

“oh hey!”

“what the hell is this?”

“… what’s what?”

*frantically motions between the two of you*

“…we’ve been dating for four years?”

he’s mad mad

he’s also just confused

“how could they pick HIM over ME??”

he gets back home and def gives you the silent treatment for like a day

i’m sorry