#because all i do is sit in a comfortable desk chair and spin around and make calls all day no manual labor necessary 🎉

[pepperyduck]

“office secrets” with kento nanami

this is part one of my kinktober event!

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nsfw, roleplaying (boss x employee), unprotected, p in v, finishing inside, sir kink hehe, "mister nanami" is used, established relationship!!!!, a little fluffy :3. (18+ mdni!)

notes: first kinktober fic pls enjoy! mwah. i'm making a separate taglist for these things, so lmk if you want to be added!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

“mister nanami? are you free?” you squeak, knocking on the door of your boss’s office lightly.

“of course.” he replies, turning around in his leather office chair.

hips deliciously clad in an office skirt, shirt buttoned up just enough for a good eye of cleavage to be seen, you were a sight to see. nanami peeks over his reading glasses set atop his nose, dark eyes lingering on every curve of your figure. you couldn’t deny your attraction to your boss – he was delectable in a sense like no other man you’d met.

mister nanami was commonly fawned over by many of the girls in your office – with his perfect hair, chiseled jawline, and the overall composition of himself. a professional from the start. many of your peers found themselves frustrated with the way he never seemed to crack.

“i um—just came by to give you these,” you state, awkwardly smiling and holding up a manilla folder filled with seemingly important reports.

“ah,” he tuts in return, “going home for the weekend?”

“yes, sir,” you nod slightly, walking over and sitting the folder down on the chestnut desk.

“any plans? boyfriend taking you out?” nanami questions, opening up the reports and skimming through. his focus immediately turned to the papers, as if the question he asked wasn’t out of the blue for him.

“um, no…no, sir,” you make a confused face he doesn’t care to look at, “we broke up last week. sorry. don’t know why i said that.” you blurt and catch yourself. this peaks your boss’s interest, and he looks up at you over his glasses again.

“oh? sorry to hear that, dear.” nanami blankly consoles you, a sweet name rolling off his tongue naturally – though, he hadn’t ever called you that.

a silence you find awkward, and kento finds natural, fills the space between you. honestly, you understand why the girls you worked with always said there was a tension in the air every time he was one on one with them in his office. yet, unbothered as ever, nanami looks back down at the documents now laid across his desk.

“these are good, really good work. you got one calculation wrong though.” he beckons you over to behind his desk, rather than spinning the paper around for you to see.

so, you strut your way over to beside his chair, testing your luck when you decide to bend over and place your palms on his desk, arching your spine ever-so-slightly. positioned in an awkward pose, you try your best to focus your attention on the paper that held nanami’s attention. his words explaining how the wrong percentage was multiplied against … something ... wages … something … income and revenues ... maybe … taxes ...

oh, and his hand running over your waist.

a feathery light touch as he ran over the small of your back, mumbling something about how you just need to do it differently next time, it’s okay. you swallowed as you tried to ignore the contact, to no avail, because your head suspiciously creeped to look at nanami. his gaze caught yours only after long a few long moments, noticing your look of uncertainty. he gives you a comforting smile, only before uttering something awfully unprofessional,

“you want this, yeah?”

a small sentence, yet the meaning behind the four words dirtier than the dishes in your sink. something out of character for the noble man you had for a boss. it all lets you know he notices the lingering stares, the tension in the air every time he looked at you, the sheer longing that cumulated between you and your coworkers. and here you are, the seemingly unachievable task of sleeping with your boss laid out in front of you as if it was a four-course meal.

you eagerly nod your head, and as soon as that motion is completed mister nanami swiftly stands up, effectively locking you in between his huge frame and the wooden desk behind you. your body shuddered at the positioning, caught by surprise when he didn’t waste a second before leaning in to kiss you. he melted against your lips as if he never wanted anything more, a soft passion allowing him to let go.

it all happens so fast,

you throw your arms around his neck, and nanami is instantly splaying you over his desk, messing up all the papers you worked so hard on. you’re pulling up your skirt and taking off your panties while your boss hastily unbuckles his designer belt and unbuttons the slacks that had grown to be too tight around his raging hardened length.

nanami shudders when you – his pretty little office worker – wrap your hand around his stiff cock and lock your legs around his waist to pull him in closer. he leans over you, placing a hand on the desk beside your hair and using the other to cup your face and silence you with another kiss. the whimper you let out when kento finally pushes inside is simply exquisite. he’d pay to hear it again.

your boss groans at the feeling the further he goes, tight, wet walls squeezing around him so pleasurably, not giving him any room to pull back out. he stands up for a moment to compose himself — as well as linger in the image of you sprawled out on his desk, taking all of his inches so well — and he groans again when you rush to clumsily unbutton your shirt, gaining sight of the slutty lacy bra you hid so well under your clothes.

seemingly forbidden, but so damn enticing. mister nanami was sure he was on the way to hell as soon as he took you over his desk. all this was supposed to be wrong, but it all felt too good.

nimble fingers of nanami’s come to untie the printed tie around his neck, making haste to unbutton his own shirt — not bothering to discard the blazer on top — and show you his own torso, you swear he was sculpted by a god or something. your hands run over his chest before pulling him back in by his broad shoulders, locking mouths once more. then, he starts to move, sliding out for a quick second and sheathing himself back inside you, burying his way in your cunt until his pelvis was flush against yours. the whimper you let out is heavenly.

“o-oouuh, kento,”

you whimper his name so naturally, it almost drives him to the point of being feral — but mister nanami is no animal. the way he continues to handle you, though, proves to be on the contrary. his hands grip your waist tightly, securing you to the wood below as he begins a downright brutal pace, pistoning his hips ruthlessly into you.

you feel so good, so tight, the expectation set in his head for you has been ultimately blown out the water…because you just feel divine. nanami takes notice of your walls squeezing even more the second he brings an experienced thumb down to rub at your clit, swiping small circles over the bud.

his plush tip hits so deeply, kissing your cervix with every gyration he makes. with the combination of the sensations your boss is causing you to feel — you can sense your orgasm beginning to build earlier than expected. whimpering and crying his name, you tell mister nanami how good he makes you feel, how close you are; and it only makes him speed up his hips even more.

it’s like he already knows your body like the back of his hand.

“so close, sir—,” uttering that sweet name he adores so much, “can i—can i cum, please.” you beg, and nanami throws his head back at your pleas, all being music to his ears.

“mhmm, cum for me,” he groans in return, dropping his head to make vicious eye contact again. he’s all sweaty, his glasses almost falling off his nose, and in pure ecstasy. hunger sits obvious in his eyes as he looks at you, his intense gaze pushing you over the edge as you gush and cum all around him. without any words, nanami cums alongside you at the same time, grunting and groaning sweet praise as he fills you up to the brim.

after the both of you unravel, kento holds you against him for a while, keeping your body trapped underneath him.

“that really did it for you, huh?” you tease your husband a while later, after he had cleaned you up and took you to bed. you laid next to him as he read a book, shed of his work clothes and in something much comfier. “don’t tell me you’re going to actually start doing that.”

“no, dear,” kento cocks a brow at you, looking over the rims of his reading glasses, “but i did enjoy you playing the part.” he smiles as you lean up to kiss him and roll over turn the lamp on the bedside table off. even as you’re turned over, kento watches your figure, the small movements you make turning into sleeping,

thinking about when he’d get to do that again.

[threnodians]

don’t mind me, just rambling about my new job:

we are processing all priorities (high ie: fire/burglary/panic alarms as well as low ie: trouble/supervisory/etc signals) all day until 2:30pm (we work 8am-4:30pm) and tbqh i would rather perish in a terrible fire lmfao but hopefully i just get a majority of low priorities and not a majority of high priorities OR hopefully people keep canceling before i dispatch 😂🤞🏻 also i’ve been so terrified of quality assurance and getting fired for being bad at my job but nobody has ever been fired due to quality assurance scores because the cool thing about this company is that they actually put their employees through training again and HELP THEM SUCCEED rather than punishing them which i mean the bar is in hell but it is very nice to know that i am not going to be fired if i make a few mistakes 🤷🏼‍♀️

[nervoussagittarius]

y/n and matt being the hottest couple for 4 minutes straight

matt sturniolo x influencer!reader

summary: hot moments caught on camera between matt and his girlfriend

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, i think that’s it

★ “hey baby will you film a tiktok with me?” you asked, lifting your head off of matt’s chest. it was a simple lip sync video to ‘spin bout u’ by drake. matt replied with a small nod before ushering the two of you over to his desk chair, placing you on his lap. you sent him a smile of gratitude.

matt wrapped his arms around you pulling you deeper into his chest. his head rested on your shoulder from behind. your phone was propped up on a random drink bottle, and you could feel matt’s eyes on you as you set up a good angle. his gaze was set on your face through the screen in front of him. a slight smirk could be found on his lips.

when the sound was heard you both easily remembered the words and began to sing along.

put hands on you in the past

insecure because your body is precious

matt’s hands began to roam from your abdomen to trail down the sides of your thighs. you glanced back at him slightly to see a devious look on his face.

four words when i think about them is crusty, musty, dusty, rusty

both of your focuses were back on your phone screen for only a second before you found each others eyes.

eight words then i think about us is fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me

you looked up at matt through your lashes before your hand reached around to play with his hair. the playful look in his eyes was replaced with a seductive one, not going unnoticed by your fans.

★ today you decided to get ready and do your makeup while on a live stream. this wasn’t uncommon. you often went live when you were by yourself or bored. it felt like a facetime call with your friends. you spent a majority of the time answering questions or talking about your day thus far.

matt walked into your house and upon hearing your talking he assumed you were on a phone call. he made his way to your room to find you sitting in front of your mirror. he quickly walked to you and placed his hands on your shoulders to greet you.

his mouth found your neck soon after and began placing short pecks on it. “hi baby. i missed you.” he said in between kisses. a blush took over your face in no time. you hoped the live stream viewers didn’t catch on to the needy tone in matt’s voice.

your comments came flying in. all talking about matt’s actions. “matt. i’m live.” you got out as fast as you could.

his head quickly popped up to notice the placement of you phone only to put his head hidden back into your shoulder with a groan of faked annoyance. you laughed at his actions. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know.” he drug out, causing you to laugh even harder.

you spent the next 5 minutes covering up the red mark forming on your neck.

★ you had finally convinced matt to go to one of tara’s parties. he missed out on her one million party and you were destined to make sure he had a fun at this one.

with the help of nick and chris you were able to hype him up enough. you went as far as giving him little incentives if he reached certain time stamps throughout the night. matt wasn’t complaining about this in the slightest. what you both were unaware of though, was that tara had multiple people filming her party that night.

“will you come dance with me?” you asked matt as you slid your hands up his chest. he wasn’t going to deny his girl a dance. any chance to be close to you was enough for him.

matt kept a comforting hand on your lower back as he directed you both through seas of drunk partygoers. his hands found your waist as you both moved to the rhythm of the song playing.

“you look beautiful. i’m so in love with you.” matt had said while leaning into your ear. it was hard to hear what he was saying over the loud music.

“thank you for coming. i’m glad you’re having a good time.” you responded in the same manner. the song changed and you began to slowly grind into matt at the new tempo. matt’s grip tighten on you and you ran your hands through his hair and down his neck.

tara posted her video a week after the party and at this point most occurrences were put to the back of your head. almost instantly you and matt were being tagged in endless videos of you two throughout the night. a fan favorite was you guys dancing together.

comments:

GODDAMN

i don’t know which one i want to be atp

i think they do these things on purpose now

they have to know they’re the hottest couple out there

i must be doing something wrong.

an: a bit shorter but i think they’re cute and i love matt x influencer

taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp

[natstulip]

Good girl ♡ ︎𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

I’ve never really written smut before so I hope it’s okay!🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Imagine agreeing to let Wanda and Nat use you however and whenever they wish. No you’re not in a relationship, but you help to keep their own relationship interesting- as they like to say.

Both women had been out on a mission for a few weeks, with a lot of the team. You, not being an avenger, of course missed the company, the compound being fairly empty and so as a result really quiet. In fact, the team were due back yesterday from the mission, but fury let us know they’d been delayed so would likely get back soon.

——-

I was laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling on my phone as I watched whatever happened to be on the television. Although that didn’t take me long to get bored, it’s how I’d spent basically all my time since being left all alone. I pick up my phone deciding to listen some music, and I grab my headphones because come on, music is way better when it feels like it’s taking over your brain.

I’m dancing away and singing too, with my eyes closed getting really into it. I only stop when I feel a tap on my back. “AGHH” I can’t help the scream I let out, as I rip my headphones off and spin around with a fighting stance ready.

When I realise it’s in fact Wanda and Nat and they’re back from their mission, I feel my face burn in embarrassment. The massive smirk on Nat’s face speaks for itself, as she mumbles “I wasn’t expecting a welcome back show but I have to say I really enjoyed it.”

I blush a deep shade of red at her teasing, only giving a little smile of my own when I see Wanda smack Nat’s arm saying “Hey, leave her alone.”

Nat huffs “Why should I? Look at her cute red face.”

I’m avoiding all eye contact whatsoever right now, not wanting to make a fool of myself any more than I clearly already have.

Wanda chuckles in response to Nat’s words “She’s totally adorable, you’re right about that.”

I don’t even know what to do with myself when they’re practically talking about me as if I’m not standing right here.

Wanda interrupts my inner battle, “Come here baby, I want a hug.” I look up excited, I’ve really missed her touch, and I see her arms opened wide. I rush into her, making her laugh, as she wraps her arms tight around me. I nuzzle my face into her neck, always feeling more at ease from her comforting smell. She rubs my back and mumbles against my head “I’ve missed you so much my sweet girl.” I move my head so I can reach her face, giving her a quick peck on the lips, with a shy look on my face “I missed you lots mommy.”

I hear a cough behind us, “What about daddy, huh?” I’m spun around rather quickly, and Nat’s finger is under my chin. I murmur “I missed you too daddy, a lot.” She hums what seems to be an approval to my words, seemingly waiting for something. I’m not as bold with anything when it comes to Natasha. I’ll kiss Wanda sometimes by me initiating because she’s so comforting but Nat scares me a little. She stares at me until I cave, and hesitantly lean towards her, with a burning face, and kiss her lips quickly.

After an anxious pause, I get a “good girl” from her making me give a goofy smile, and I feel Wanda stroking my hair softly. “Our good good little girl, you going to let us take care of you tonight?” I look at her with wide eyes, causing them both to give each other a smile.

Natasha set herself down on the desk chair in my room, patting her lap while uttering “Sit baby.” I know better than to argue with her so I instantly walk over and make a move to straddle her lap. I don’t get very far because she places a hand on my chest and then does a ‘spin motion’ with her finger, telling me to turn around. Even though I’m a little confused, I turn and face Wanda. I feel Nat grab my hips from behind and pull me to sit, facing away from her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and Wanda crouched down in front of us.

I feel her hands on my legs, and Nat start to kiss my neck, making me instantly feel hot and flustered. I feel like my body stiffens since it’s been so long since I let them have all control.

“Baby, hey, look at mommy.” I move my gaze slowly to Wanda. “We’re here now, you don’t have to let your thoughts take over.” Natasha interrupts her to say “We’ll fuck the thoughts out of you baby, until all you can think about is mommy and daddy, yeah?”

Before I even have time to think about responding, Nat has spread my legs open wide, keeping her legs locked with mine- so I can’t move. It takes my breath away, not expecting her to be so upfront about it, as usually Wanda starts off more gentle, “What daddy let me go..”

Wanda cups my face to direct my eyes to hers, “shhh shhh, you’re okay, let daddy do what she pleases.” She makes no move to let go of my face, and I hope she doesn’t because her comforting touch really helps me through everything.

When I feel more kisses on my neck, and a rougher hand move down my stomach, I let out a gasp and grip onto Wanda’s arm. “Mommy’s staying right here baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel good, hm?”

At the same time as Wanda pulls me in for a kiss, Nat’s hand moves into my shorts, making me gasp. She cups me for a moment, not moving her hand, seemingly waiting for me to start squirming. Eventually she slowly runs the tip of her finger over my folds, just teasingly stroking there for what feels like a very long time, making me shiver.

I feel the soft breath of a chuckle on my neck, “You’re so sensitive huh my baby? I wonder if you could cum from just daddy barely touching you, and mommy kissing those pretty lips. We’ll have to try it sometime, because right now.. we’re trying something new” She raises her eyebrows at Wanda, who swiftly grabs something I assume with her magic, and holds it behind her back.

She moves back to stand in front of me, kissing my forehead, as she hands whatever she grabbed to Nat. I can’t see Nat’s face but I can picture her smirk while Wanda gives her a kiss, before returning to her position earlier, cupping my cheeks.

“Look at mommy.” I listen and look up at her. “We haven’t done what we’re gonna do now before. I’m sure you’ll like it darling but remember call ‘red’ if it’s too much or you want to stop at any point, okay?” I give her a nod, “Okay mommy, I understand.” I watch a smile arise on her face as she strokes my cheek, “My good girl.”

I feel a rush of cold air as Nat pulls the front of my shorts and underwear open for a brief moment, as she shoves something in there, to rest against my clit. “What’s that daddy?” Just as I ask the question it starts vibrating against me, making me let out a breath. She whispers against my ear, “It’s a vibrator baby, it’s gonna make you feel all better while daddy holds you open; and because you’ve been our good little girl we’re going to let you cum as much as you want.”

The first time she pushed me over the edge was nice, with Wanda stroking my face and a pleasurable vibration against me. Though it didn’t take long to get uncomfortable, when Nat said they were going to let me cum as much as I want, she definitely meant as much as they want, never seeming to let me stop and breathe. Every time I reach that point she just ups the vibrations and makes me go again.

I’ve lost count by this point how many times she’s made me cum, resorting to wriggling and kicking my legs and trying to pry her off with my hands; but that was silly as they’re much stronger than me. Nat simply shut me down by grabbing hold of my thighs with her hands and legs now- keeping me pinned to her lap. “Please daddy.. dadddy ‘s too much please…”

She presses a kiss to my shoulder mumbling “Just one more baby, one more, and then we’re done.” With Wanda gently wiping my tears, I can’t help the loud moan I let out as I reach my last climax. My legs are uncontrollably shaking, as Nat carefully removes the vibrator.

Wanda makes a move to pick me up into her arms, “I’ve got you my sweet girl,” as Nat makes her way to the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up with.

I’m laying down, on top of Wanda, while Nat gently cleans me up, and after only a few minutes I’m falling asleep against her chest, with only mommy and daddy on my mind.

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Big Boss

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're the big boss

You know that you're a very important part of the Not-Wolfsburg team.

Momma and Morsa tell you that a lot but, more importantly, so does Coach Emma. Coach Emma is kind of like Momma and Morsa's boss. She tells them what to do at training and on the pitch too.

You're her assistant coach so you're kind of like Momma and Morsa's boss too.

Sometimes, when training is going to be very intense and you can't sit and watch, Coach Emma will take you to her special boss meetings. They're very boring sometimes when you have to sit and watch a match from a different team and pick them apart so you know what to tell the Not-Wolfsburg girls at the next meeting.

But you sit through them because you're an important part of the team and one of the big bosses.

"Coach y/n," Emma greets you in the morning as she brings you into her office.

"Hi, Coach Emma!" You say happily, letting her sit you on the spiny chair behind the desk. It's meant to be her seat but she always gives it to you, sitting on the other side of the desk in the not comfortable seat that naughty people sit in sometimes. "I made sure Momma and Morsa got a lot of sleep last night! We went to bed early!"

"Well done. I'll need you to make sure you get them to bed early tonight too. Our match is tomorrow."

"I can do that!"

"I know, because you're the big boss."

You giggle hysterically like every time Coach Emma reminds you. You spin around on her chair as she does paperwork before she collects you for the video reviews.

You sit in her special chair there too and give the girls your best Coach Emma look. "Be quiet!" You say firmly," This is very important!"

Morsa looks like she's about to start laughing so you wave a finger at her.

"I'm not joking!"

"Okay, princesse," Momma says," We'll all be quiet."

"Good! You have to open your listening ears and your watching eyes because this is very important," You lecture them, nodding firmly.

"Exactly right, Coach y/n," Coach Emma says as she stands at the front of the room.

●～●～●～●～

You help her out on the pitch too, during warmups and actual games.

"Run faster!" You yell, arms crossed over your chest as you wear your 'assistant coach' jersey.

The Not-Wolfsburg girls are doing their sprints. They're not doing them very well but they're doing them.

"Faster!" You yell again, stamping your foot in emphasis. "It means more fast!"

Momma breaks out of her sprint to swing you up onto her hip, kissing your cheek.

"Momma!" You whine," You can't hug me like that! I'm being the big boss!"

She laughs and Morsa comes over too, playing with the end of your braid and kissing your forehead.

"And what a good big boss you are," Morsa says," Any advice for us?"

"Play good," You say, patting them both on the cheek," And don't let them get goals."

"Excellent advice," Momma compliments, placing you down on the ground again. "Will we see you in the coaching box?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. You have to remember to do what me and Coach Emma say. 'Cause we're the big bosses."

"Yeah, you are the big boss."

Momma's right, of course. You are the big boss, something that is only proven over and over again as you stand in the coaching box, holding Coach Emma's hand tightly.

Not-Wolfsburg are doing pretty alright against...well, you didn't really know who they were playing against but they were still doing decent enough.

But Coach Emma didn't really look happy so you don't want to look happy either, crossing your arms over your chest and widening your stance to copy hers.

You could tell why though. Not-Wolfsburg would sometimes lose the ball when they didn't need to and then had to scramble to fall back into defence.

Coach Emma mutters angrily under her breath as she watches on.

"They gotta stop seventeen," You say. You don't really like her strange muttering so fill it with your own babble," She keeps running left and passing before people can get to here." You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

"You're right, kiddo," Coach Emma says.

"You gotta get them to stop her, Coach Emma," You say," Or she's gonna win. You can't let her win. Gotta focus on her."

She nods. "Absolutely. Come on, Coach y/n, let's tell them that at halftime."

Both you and Coach Emma wear angry looks as you head into the locker room.

You mimic her in everything you do and scramble to stand on the bench so you can at least be of a similar size to everyone else. You wobble a bit and steady yourself against Momma's shoulder.

"You gotta stop seventeen!" You say to the Not-Wolfsburg girls," 'Cause she's causin' problems and you need to stop her!" You're completely serious and would cross your arms over your chest to emphasise the point but you're holding onto Momma's shoulder to stay balanced while trying to squirm away from Morsa's tickling fingers.

Coach Emma takes over from where you stop and you're left with no defence as Momma swings you into her lap, cradling you like when you were a baby and allowing Morsa to pull up your top and tickle your stomach.

"Alright, big boss," Momma says as halftime comes to an end and she lifts you so you're sitting upright again," Anything you need to tell us?"

You think for a moment. "Play good," You say," And stop seventeen...And...And...Good luck kisses!"

You grab at Momma's cheeks to press a sloppy kiss to her forehead before repeating the action on Morsa.

"Thanks, princesse," Morsa says when you pull back.

You give her a disgruntled look. "I'm the big boss right now, Morsa! You can't call me that!"

Morsa chuckles and Momma runs a hand through your hair fondly.

"Sorry, boss. When can I call you princesse again?"

You think for a moment then nod in satisfaction at your answer," When you win."

"Well, Magda," Momma says with a laugh at the look of disbelief on Morsa's face," It looks like you've got to sort out that pesky number seventeen."

"It looks like you need to score some more goals."

You stamp your foot and point to the door. "Come on!"

"Okay, boss."

[naturesapphic]

idk if you’d wanna do this or not but could you potentially write something fluffy with Billie and a gf who feels dumb all the time because she’s dyslexic and billie helps her and comforts her when she struggles?

Dyslexic

Billie eilish x dyslexic!fem!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Everyone who was in your life knew you were dyslexic. You had it growing up and you still have trouble with it today. You would get teased for it a lot when you were little and now since you were an adult. You never understood why people were so mean about it, it was just a learning disorder, but the people always made you feel extra dumb for it.

Here you were, sitting at your desk in the office of your shared house with your girlfriend, working on a class project. You were done writing your portion of the paper and sent it to the group chat. Billie was downstairs in the studio working on music. Almost immediately everyone responded, criticizing your work and how you wrote making your face heat up in embarrassment. One person even said that you were going to make them all fail if you don’t rewrite the whole paper.

You were confused but texted them back that you would look over it again. Going back to your paper you reread everything and you understood what they were talking about. What you wrote was jumbled and didn’t make sense at all. It didn’t fit what the whole project was about and you groaned out in frustration. You grabbed your paper and crumpled it up, throwing it behind you not knowing that it hit someone.

“Hey! Watch the tits bro.” Your girlfriend joked which usually made you laugh but all you let out was a little defeated sigh. “Sorry…” you apologized and you felt your chair spin around and you were face to face with your brown headed girlfriend. “Hey…you don’t need to apologize to me babe.” Billie reassured you and you just sat there staring off making Billie worry. “Okay what’s going on. You’ve been up here all day in the office and you look like you are about to pass out.” She said and you whimpered making her get down on her knees so she’s eye level with you.

“I just…I feel so stupid bils! My stupid brain and my learning disability.” You explained to her and how your partners were making you feel like shit. “Hey hey now. First of all, you aren’t stupid, second of all, they are shit heads who don’t know what they are talking about. Fuck them. You are the smartest and talented girl I know. Don’t let their peanut sized Brains make you think any differently do you understand?” Billie says and you nodded your head slowly. “I still have to write this stupid paper and on top of that I have to start completely over since I messed up.” You sigh and Billie gave you a comforting smile.

“Why don’t I read your project over and help you with your paper hm?” She suggested and you gave her a big smile. “Would you please? I don’t get it whatsoever and I feel like my head is gonna explode.” You explained and she giggles. “I know baby but how about I read it over and rewrite it to where you can understand it better how’s that?” She offered and you felt your eyes burn with tears. “Oh bils…you are the sweetest ever. What did I do to deserve you?” You say as you stand up from your chair and place a kiss on her plump lips, making her kiss you back immediately.

“Okay. Now go to bed and rest. I’ll be there to join you in a bit alright?” She softly demanded you and you nodded. You walked over to the bed and got underneath the covers as you watched Billie read over the project and write down some stuff before joining you. You couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend than Billie, who never made you feel stupid or slow. She loved you as you are.

A/n: thank you for the request anon! As someone who has a learning disability this was very nice to write. Anyone who has some sort of learning disability, know that no matter what anyone says to you, you are smart and capable just like everyone else and I’m proud of you :) remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! <3

[spncrscasey]

Workaholic (j.w.)

Fandom/Characters: House M.D. - James Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Children either bring couples together, or push them apart. Unfortunately in your case, it was the latter.

Warnings: baby talk, miscarriage, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, unhealthy coping mechanisms, tumor/cancer mention, happy ending don't worry, and a BUNCH of pet names (these people are sickly in love- its insane)

a/n: almost finished with season 1 of house and i love wilson so so much, he’s such a cutie patootie. anyway i don’t know how accurate this is because i haven’t seen much of the show yet so im going off spoilers and random reasearch lol but hopefully it makes sense and yall enjoy it <3

You were currently sitting in the bathroom of your office staring at the test in front of you. You couldn’t believe it. Two lines. You were pregnant.

You were elated. As the Head of Pediatrics, you had ample experience working with children, which made you even more excited about the chance of being a mom since starting a family has always been a dream of yours.

However, you were unsure about how your husband would react to the news. Although you had discussed having kids with James on a few occasions, you never officially agreed to start trying. So it would be an understatement to say that you felt nervous about telling him.

You let out a sigh, carefully sliding the test into your pocket before hesitantly rising to your feet. Despite your concerns, you had to tell him, he has the right to know. Leaving your office, you made your way to the Oncology Department to seek out your husband.

Once you approached his office, you noticed the door slightly ajar, letting you know he was inside. You took a deep breath before gently pushing the door open.

“Hey, dear,” you said smiling at him when he looked up from his files to meet your eyes.

“Hi there sweetheart, how's my favorite girl doing?” He rose from his chair and sauntered around his desk to reach you, where he wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You didn't respond right away opting to look at your shoes and avoid his eyes, anxious about the news you were about to deliver. He was instantly worried, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“James, honey, I have something I need to tell you.” You whispered but he heard it anyway.

“Of course Y/N, anything.” His voice dripped with fear as he anticipated what you were about to tell him. Considering you were wife number four, he was bracing himself for you to finally tell him you were leaving. Preparing for the worst, almost expecting the divorce papers even though your marriage had been nothing but perfect.

Yet his thoughts were cut short when you blurted out the information you'd been keeping in for the last twenty minutes. “I’m pregnant.”

You gazed into his eyes, trying to decipher his emotions, but they revealed nothing. His expression was unreadable, leaving you feeling even more uneasy.

“We're going to have a baby?” He questioned, shocked. You nodded and pulled out the pregnancy test to show him. He held it, staring at it, bewildered. It was clear he was processing the information, but his thoughts were kept hidden. Yet, you felt optimistic, hopeful that he wasn't showing signs of being upset.

“We’re having a baby!” He repeated with an enormous grin on his face, instantly enveloping you in a tight embrace.

As you hugged him back, a yelp of excitement escaped your lips. He lifted you off the ground, spinning you around as your laughter filled the air. You gently caressed his cheeks, planting quick and tender kisses all over his face. Joy radiating off of the both of you.

He slowly placed you back on the floor, eliciting a giggle from your lips at the way he was suddenly handling you with caution. “Relax, Jamie, I won't break. You don't have to be so careful, you know.” You reassure him, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You're carrying our baby! Some might say I'm not being careful enough!” He exclaimed back, resting his hands on your hips.

There's a comfortable silence for a moment while you both hold each other as everything sinks in.

“I'm glad you're okay with this.” You admit, leaning your forehead against his.

“Okay? Baby, I've never been happier! This is the best day of my life— well, besides the day I met you obviously.” He clarifies, earning a chuckle from you.

“You’re going to be a great dad, James.”

“And you're going to be an even greater mom, sweetheart.” He responds before delicately pressing his lips against yours.

You were eleven weeks pregnant. Your OB mentioned you'd be able to find out the baby's gender at your next appointment. Which you were on the way to right now. James couldn't make it due to a consult House had dragged him to but you reassured him that it was fine. You'd surprise him with a mini gender reveal celebration later.

You already had it planned. You'd go to the baby store and buy an article of clothing corresponding to the gender and wrap it in white to keep it concealed. It would be a special moment between you that you'd cherish for the rest of your life. Just the simple thought of it brought a smile to your face as you walked into the exam room, waiting to be checked out.

The nurse finally entered the room and began the procedure. She squeezed the gel onto your stomach and started the ultrasound. You watched intently, still struggling to comprehend the fact that there was an actual baby growing inside of you. The baby you and James had created, the baby your love had created. Your eyes twinkled in happiness at the idea of the family you'd soon become, the corners of your lips turning upwards.

Your smile faltered though when you noticed a momentary expression on the nurse's face that made you apprehensive. Before you were able to analyze it further, she left, informing you that the doctor would see you shortly.

Your heart began racing. What could that mean? Was the baby okay? Were you okay? What was wrong? Yes, you were a doctor, but suddenly all medical knowledge had left your brain. It's like you couldn't focus on anything but the notion that something was clearly not alright.

Your obstetrician stepped into the room, stopping you from spiraling further. A solemn expression on her face.

“Dr. Montgomery- How’s the baby? Is everything okay? Can we know the sex?” You hurriedly asked, letting it all out at once.

“Y/N, I'm sorry. You've had a miscarriage.” She said, looking at you sympathetically.

The world around you suddenly froze in place. Doctor Montgomery’s lips continued to move, providing information, but no sound reached your ears. It was as if her voice was distant and muffled, and all you could concentrate on was the fact that your baby was gone.

Your surroundings suddenly became blurry, hands trembled uncontrollably. How could this have happened? Both you and James had been incredibly careful and wary throughout the pregnancy. What went wrong?

You didn't even realize when she exited the room, leaving you in solitude with your thoughts. You felt numb, detached from the world that kept on spinning as if the devastating news didn't matter. Why was everyone going about their day as if nothing had happened when you had just received such heartbreaking news about not being able to have your baby? You hated it. You were mad at the world, mad at the doctor, mad at yourself.

You got to your feet and made your way to your husband's office, almost as if on autopilot. It felt surreal like your body was being guided by some invisible force through the busy corridors. It was as though your legs were moving of their own accord, taking you where you needed to be, letting your mind wander.

You suddenly found yourself standing in front of the glass doors, unsure of how you had ended up there in the first place. You hesitantly pushed the door open and entered.

As if you hadn't been through enough today, James’ office was found to be empty. The one person you needed at the moment wasn't here, which frustrated you even more. Logically, you knew it wasn't his fault. He's a doctor too. He probably got stuck with House’s consult, yet you were too distraught to think clearly, your distress clouding your judgment. So instead, you took a seat on the couch, waiting for his eventual return.

You sat there, lost in thought, staring into space, unaware of how much time had passed. Not even the sound of the office door being pulled and James entering could draw your attention.

He, however, saw you. Face instantly beaming. “Hey hun, how was the appointment?” He inquired, clueless to your expression since you had your back turned.

Noticing your lack of acknowledgment, he swiftly rushed over to you. Kneeling in front of your seated body, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

His touch finally snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to meet his concerned gaze. Tears filled your eyes as you whispered, barely audible, “I lost it.”

“Lost what angel? What's going on?” He questioned further, slowly moving his hands to cup your face.

“The baby, James. I lost our baby,” You explained, letting out a sob while falling forward.

He quickly caught you, putting his hands around you to hold you tightly, unable to believe the news himself. He clutched onto you, not only in a way to comfort you but himself as well. Tears kept streaming down your face, and the reality of the situation finally sank in. It felt like you hadn't come to terms with it until just now. You nuzzled your face into his chest, no doubt soaking his dress shirt, but you were too overwhelmed to care.

You could hear a few sniffles coming from him too, which only added to the heartbreak you were feeling. Knowing that you were the cause of his pain, the reason behind his tears. It made it all the more unbearable. The realization that you were the one who had resulted in the end of the life of the baby you both had hoped to raise was finally getting through to you, and it was crushing.

If you had communicated your feelings, he would have immediately reassured you that he would never hold you responsible for this. And he would have been right. No matter how upsetting it may be, these things happen, it wasn't your fault. But your brain wasn't functioning right presently, and all it could see was the pain you believed you were causing the both of you.

You lost track of how long the two of you held each other like that. Time was spent with you mostly crying, and him trying to hold himself together while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn't. Nothing he said would bring your baby back. You let him try regardless, knowing it was his way of coping with the loss.

It had been two weeks since you found out. Two weeks since your life changed for the worse.

There were many ways to deal with a loss. Attend grief support groups, see a therapist, journal, meditate— yet here you were, ignoring all of those and overworking yourself to death instead.

In your head, if you couldn't save and care for your own baby, you were determined to do it for others.

As a result, over the past two weeks, you've thrown yourself into your work. You'd been getting home late while leaving early in the mornings, picking up extra shifts, and spending more time at the clinic— all to avoid confronting the event that occurred.

Was it healthy? No. Was it working? Yes.

You found yourself isolating from everyone and everything. Even your own husband. You didn't mean to avoid him, it just happened that way because you were hardly ever at home anymore. Cuddy had even asked you to go home and rest up on multiple occasions but you refused each time, insisting that you were fine.

You were currently at the clinic, examining a patient who had an unknown mass in her stomach. It was likely a tumor so you were forced to page your husband, Dr. Wilson, Head of Oncology.

You didn't want to do it, knowing that if you paged him here, the conversation would end with him forcing you to open up. As it would be the first time you two would have an actual exchange in the last two weeks. But for your patient's sake, you were ready to set aside your personal issues and focus on her well-being. So you did what you had to do, and hesitantly paged him.

He was inside the exam room within five minutes.

Unbeknownst to you, seeing your name on his pager spiked his heart rate. He hadn't truly spoken to his wife in what felt like forever and seeing that she needed him was a relief. This was finally his opportunity to talk to you.

“You paged me, Dr. Y/L/N?” He asked as he stepped inside.

“Yes actually, Dr. Wilson, could you check what that mass is on the left side of her abdomen?” You pointed toward where the mass was.

“May I?” He asked the patient, motioning towards her body to which she nodded.

Upon receiving the woman's permission, he proceeded to examine the mass. He assessed that there was a high likelihood of it being a tumor, but a biopsy should be scheduled to confirm the diagnosis and see whether it is cancerous or not.

You thank him and turn back to the lady. “You're free to go, ma'am. I'll schedule the biopsy and the hospital will call to let you know when it is.” You inform her as she leaves.

After she leaves the room, you tidy up and restore everything to its original state before attempting to turn toward the door when you feel a tug at your wrist.

“That's it?”

“Is what it? I thanked you for your assistance now I'm going to order the biopsy you mentioned. Did I do something wrong Dr. Wilson?”

“You realize we're alone right? You don't have to be so formal.” He replies, tone filled with something you couldn't put your finger on.

Before you had a chance to reply he continued, “Why haven't you been coming home?” This time you understood his tone, accusatory.

“I have been.”

“Oh that's right, you get home every day past midnight and leave before sunrise. So you're home about what? 4-5 hours?” He summarizes.

“What do you want me to say, James?” You sigh.

“I want you to talk to me! Talk to your husband. Let me in! Stop avoiding me Y/N!” He raises his hands in the air, exasperated.

“I'm not avoiding you, I've just been busy with work.” You reply, purposefully ignoring the first part of his statement.

“Believe me, we've all realized how much of a workaholic you are.” He rolled his eyes.

You both stayed silent for a moment before he spoke up, voice softer this time, “Honey I know losing the baby was hard but-”

You cut him off before he could finish the sentence. The sudden mention of your baby made you see red.

“Don't you dare mention my baby.” You spoke, voice sharper than a thousand knives.

“That was my baby too, Y/N! This loss has been difficult for me too!” He yelled back, making you flinch yet you didn't back down.

“Really? Because I don't recall you being there that appointment.” It was a low blow and you were aware of it. You didn't truly blame him but you were being put on the defensive and you were willing to say anything that would get him to drop the topic.

“That's not fair and you know it,” He shook his head in disbelief.

“What's not fair is that our child is gone, James. Gone.” You let out, voice shaking at the last word.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He pulled you in and you let him, willingly giving into the embrace you'd missed so much. He held you with one arm while using the other hand to stroke up and down your back like he'd done many times before. The comforting touch, so familiar yet so longed for, enveloped you, evoking a profound sense of solace. In that fleeting moment, serenity washed over you, bringing a deep sense of peace, even if it was temporary.

“I don't deserve this.” You mumble into his chest.

He moves his hands to your shoulders, pushing you aside to get a better look at your face, “What do you mean?”

“I don't deserve your kindness. I killed our baby and here you are- comforting me.”

He looked at you dumbfounded. Like you had just said the most idiotic statement known to man. You were blaming yourself for this? He grabbed your chin, bringing your face up so you could look at him.

“Y/N, you know I never blamed you for any of this right?” He asked rhetorically. Knowing you wouldn't answer, he continued, “You didn't kill anyone. You're not responsible for what happened. It's not your fault. I need you to understand that.” He said firmly.

“I just feel so empty James, like a part of me is missing. A part that I'll never be able to get back- and I just don't know what to do with myself anymore.” You confess, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

He moves one hand to the back of your head, absentmindedly playing with your hair, soothing you while you speak.

“It feels like this emptiness is going to last forever and I'm not sure how I'm going to deal with that Jamie.”

Oh, how he had missed hearing that nickname leaving your lips. It made him feel at home.

Perhaps things were slowly getting better.

“It's going to take time, but we’ll get through it Y/N. I promise. Let's just take it one day at a time, alright?”

You nodded, lips slightly quirking up.

“I'm sorry for pushing you away and avoiding you for two weeks.” You look down, embarrassed. “I also apologize for not being there for you. I know you've been dealing with this too and it wasn't right of me to abandon you in a time of need where I should've been by your side instead.”

“That’s okay,” he says drawing you in closer once more, wrapping his arms around you making you sway back and forth. “Just promise me that you'll come home with me tonight, so we can enjoy a nice and relaxing bath together.” He adds.

“Oh, I definitely promise that.” You reply, smirking at him before adding, “I love you.”

“And I love you, angel.”

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

The past is not dead (you buried it while it still breathed)

hope here needs a humble hand - series masterlist here

pairing: platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic batfamily x reader

length: 1.8k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy (hopeful) ending

warnings: Bruce is,,,, not so perfect here, it's post Jason's death so uuh it's kinda about that, Timmy's also having issues, also he's robin rn, there's just a lot here but it's like the early days and things are gonna get better ya know

a/n: you would not believe the week I had to drag myself thru before writing this lmao

Tim is spinning around in the chair used for the Batcomputer when you come into the Cave, pulling your mask off and tossing it somewhere as Batman, himself, follows after you. He doesn't remove his cowl, content to fight with you while he keeps himself masked - hidden away. Tim can't find it in him to be surprised.

"You can't do that," you say to Batman, pointing a finger to his chest. "You can't just chase after me all night and step in to save me every time you think something might be going wrong." Tim stops spinning as he stares at the two of you, at Batman towering over you. You're good at pretending you're not afraid, he's realized. But no one's quite good enough when they're up against the Dark Knight.

"You don't tell me what I can and can't do," is Batman's only response. 

"This is my life, Bruce. My job. Not yours. You don't get to take this from me," you push back. He crosses his arms over his chest and Tim shifts in his seat.

"I'm not taking anything from you," Batman responds, and his voice is enough that you shift your weight on your feet, like you're trying to stop yourself from taking a step back, away from him. "This is my city. You are my responsibility. If you go out there and act recklessly, you'll be taking this from yourself. Do you understand that?" There's a part of Tim that feels he should leave, Batman's raising voice thundering through the Cave. This isn't really a conversation he wants to witness - it isn't a struggle he feels he should be part of. But mostly, he thinks that moving will get him caught, and he can't help but feel a bit like a rabbit caught in a snare that wasn't meant for him. Tim pulls at the fabric of his pants, rubbing a hand over the Robin insignia on his chest, and feels sort of like he's someone he shouldn't be. 

"I don't need a keeper," you bite back. "I need you to let me do my job - I need you to let me take care of myself."

"Then why are you here?" This time, you do take a step back, letting his words cut you. "Why are you part of this family, then?"

"Am I, Bruce? Am I really?" This time, Tim does let himself slouch down in the chair a bit, your own yells bouncing around the Cave. "Is that what you call a family? A bunch of strays you pick up off the streets because it makes you feel like a hero?"

"You need to stop," Batman presses, his voice loud enough to drown out yours, reaching forward to put his hands on your shoulders. "You need to let me -"

"I don't need to -"

"You need to let me take care of you, Jason -"

That, of course, is enough to make everyone freeze, your eyes wide as you and Tim both stare at Batman's heaving shoulders and the tight grip he has on you. You're sure his knuckles are turning white with the way he's holding onto your shoulders, but you make no move to stop him.

"I'm not… Jason, Bruce. He's… gone," you say gently, and something about it rips Bruce out of whatever state he was in, his hands pulling away from you as he takes a lurching step back. 

"Bruce -" you start, but he's already fleeing, his cape covering him as he turns and, before you or Tim can say anything, he's disappeared out of the Cave and back towards the streets of Gotham.

"I almost feel bad for the criminals he'll find tonight," Tim says - a desperate attempt to break the silence. You wince as you consider it, but shoot Tim a small smile, nonetheless, as you walk over to him. Sitting up on the desk next to the computer, you let your legs swing back and forth as you watch him, his hand absentmindedly rubbing over the Robin insignia painting his chest as he stares at where Bruce had just been.

"It's not your fault, Tim," you say quietly. He looks at you like you've just shot him.

"I didn't say it was," he splutters. You nod.

"I know. But… it's still nice to hear, sometimes, isn't it?" You ask. Tim pauses his hand's movement, bringing it away from his chest to grip onto the chair arm, instead.

"It's not… it's not your fault, either," he points out, and the chair arm creaks under the weight of his grip. "It's not your fault."

For his sake, you pretend to believe him. You hope you're a better liar than he is, just this once.

It's days before you see Batman again, the two of you flickering by each other like shadows, indistinguishable from the backgrounds of the dark corners you belong in. You're sure he's still around, sure he's still tracking you and making sure you stay in line. You're also sure you still don't like it.

You wonder if he's watching you the night you stumble into Red Hood, the cases you're working on tangling your paths together as you stare at him across the docks. His gun is in his hand, and you wonder, a bit abruptly, if he'll shoot you when you get in his way. 

"Thought the Bowery was your corner, Hood," you say cautiously, eyeing him under your mask. The moonlight above you ripples down between the clouds, casting shards of light onto your hidden faces. "You're a long way from home."

"Could say the same about you," he spits, his hand tightening on his gun. You shift your weight, bracing yourself for whatever fight this might turn into. "You're a bird flying too far from the nest."

"It's not my nest," you say back too quickly, and you wince internally at how directly his snub hurt you. "I'm not a Robin - as you can see through that helmet, I hope. These docks have known me longer than Batman has."

"Yea, but he owns you now, doesn't he?" Red Hood drawls, trying to push you - trying to bait you. You grit your teeth together. 

"And he doesn't own you?" You quip back. "You really think you're free of him?" He huffs at that, spinning his gun in his hand as he leans back on his heels.

"Yea, go on," he snaps. "Keep talking. See where that smart mouth gets you around here." "Are you threatening me?" You push. He slides his gun into his holster.

"I don't think I need to," he shrugs. "It'll catch up to you without my help." You sigh, ever so slightly, letting yourself relax a bit, letting the possibility of a fight cool from your mind. Red Hood pauses, the white eyes of his helmet staring through you. There's a drop to his shoulders, a heaviness to him that makes you wish you could see his face. You wonder if he would ever really shoot you - and then you feel a bit nauseous for ever thinking he would.

"I'm just saying," you push on, suddenly wishing you knew how to make peace - wishing your hands knew how to extend an olive branch. "The past doesn't die just because you bury it, Hood. Either dig it up, yourself, or it'll climb out of that grave on its own."

"Excuse me?" He bites back. You hold your hands up in surrender, already stepping back as you begin to let yourself disappear into the shadows behind you. 

"Hey, it's up to you," you say. "But… you know. Start running now, you'll never stop, right?"

Red Hood stands on that dock for longer than he cares to, after that - after you leave, disappearing in a way that feels an awful lot like running away. His ears ring as your words play over in his head, as he thinks of the boy who died and the thing that came back in his place. He wonders if you take your own advice, ever, then scoffs, kicking at a rock as he turns to leave. 

It's not running away, he tells himself. The boy I was is dead and the thing I am now might as well be.

You do go home that night - eventually, creeping back into the Cave. You're not sure if you expected Bruce to be sitting there, cowl resting by the desk as he stares at the Batcomputer. You're not sure if you're really surprised that he's tracking you up on the screen, having been following your movements all night. 

"You need to loosen your grip, Bruce," you say firmly standing behind him. He doesn't turn in his chair to face you.

"I won't have another one of you die because of me. I won't fail you like that." His words make you sigh as you reach a hand up to rub the back of your neck. 

"You won't have the chance to fail us if you keep pushing us away," you point out. This time, Bruce does turn in the chair, looking up at you where you're now standing in front of him.

"I met Jason tonight," you say honestly, your eyes searching him for any kind of reaction.

"I know," is Bruce's response, though. You roll your eyes.

"Does anything happen in this city without you knowing?" 

"No, that's the point," he says. It's as close as he gets to joking and you recognize it for what it is and what it isn't. An outstretched hand, but not an apology. A plead for peace, but nothing more. 

"If you want to talk about failing your Robins, maybe pay some attention to Tim," you point out. He stiffens.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying," you rock back on your heels, glancing over at where Jason's Robin uniform is encased in glass, a constant memory of the one Batman couldn't save. "You wouldn't want him to, ah, fall through the crack, so to speak. Slip through your fingers - you know what I mean."

Bruce stares at you hard after that, his arms crossed. You hold your hands up in surrender and wonder if he knows how much of himself is in Jason's demeanour, in his life, still.

"I'm not going back out there tonight, so," you gesture to the Batcomputer as you walk away, "you know." He doesn't respond and you don't wait for him to, slipping away from him and up towards the Manor. As you glance back on your way out, though, you can't help but notice him still staring intently at the screens, his profile on Red Hood up while he tracks the vigilante across the city. You wonder if Jason knows how much Bruce loves and misses him - and then you wonder if Bruce, himself, has realized it at all.

[erinfern0]

no words were needed.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you and simon were friends as long as you remember. maybe that was the reason why the two of you were so blind to the feeling hidden so deeply inside.

warnings: hurt/angst to comfort and fluff. cocky teasing, mention of abuse, swearing, smoking, terrible date, insecurities, self-doubt, jealousy, protective simon.

a/n: based on this lovely request, the only thing I decided to change is that i made the reader gender-neutral, not including any specific pronouns, just a little preference of mine.

You and Simon were always there for each other, since the day you two met. Not only because the two of you were neighbors — living just a couple of houses away from each other, but also because your parents were friends. Both of your fathers served in the military, and mothers always found time to chat and see each other when their husbands were away.

You always adored the tiny gentleman in him, he was like a brother to you, always finding ways to comfort you and help whenever you needed it. And you were there for him too, watching him exorcise or patching up all the little scruffs and wounds he had. You spent hours upon hours in your room just so he could escape from the rough household he had to grow up in.

Your house became his home, and he always felt like a brother to you, protecting you from possible dangers and people you'd rather not deal with. That was until high school, when you realized he's not the cute little boy he used to be. He turned a little colder, focusing on his grades and physique to appeal to his father's wishes.

Watching him lose himself broke your heart, especially after you realized you were catching feelings for him. You hid it well, trying not to get too close to him to not add burdens to his already high pile of them. You brought peace to his life that you didn't want to ruin.

No words were needed between the two of you to know exactly what you were thinking, well, most of the time. You always joked that you shared some braincells as you had the same type of humor and shared some interests.

He was slightly older than you, just a couple of months apart, and as soon as he turned 18, he started applying for the military. He worked his ass off, and you just supported him, reminding him how much he deserves to get in and how well he'll do as a soldier.

And you, too, had to work hard, studying for your exams. Ever since you turned 18 too, you felt the pressure of being an actual adult, having to apply for colleges and part-time jobs to not feel like a parasite to your parents.

Now, you were sitting in your room by your desk, spreading notes all over it and highlighting the most important parts when you heard footsteps coming upstairs. Not anyone from your family members. They belonged to Simon. Your heart rushed for a split second before he entered your room, hood covering most of his head and face.

“Learn to knock, Riley.” you turned towards him and smiled lightly. “I could have been naked, you know?”

“Wouldn't complain.” he chuckled as he walked to your desk and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Simon earned himself a light smack to his forearm for his comment. His head fell on your shoulder, watching you write over one of the pages. “Still studyin'?”

You groaned in frustration, head falling back against his body as he just laughed and ruffled your hair. Then, he just patted your shoulders and pulled away from the hug to sit on your parapet.

Closing your textbook and spinning around in your chair, you watched him lean against the wall and grab a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, um… How was your date?”

His question caught you off guard, stopping you in your movements and just staring at the ceiling, thinking about the answer. Telling him the whole truth might be hurtful, not only for him and you but also to him and you'd never risk that.

Well, the only reason you even agreed to go was because he was slightly similar to Simon, a tall blonde gym rat who likes books and video games. You were naive thinking that he'll ever replace Simon. By the end of the date, you decided to tell him the truth, that you already had feelings for another man, and you are sorry for possibly leading him.

He turned out to be less sweet than you believed him to be, immediately getting mad at you for, as he phrased it: 'wasting his time'. This made you think so hard, how could you be anyone's type if the only person you truly want is your best friend?

“It was fine until it wasn't.” you claimed, immediately regretting your words as soon as you looked at Simon.

The hood was gone, leaving you to see the expression on his face. The frown of his brows and that spark in his eye made a chill run down your spine. Concern? Worry? Anger? You couldn't tell, but it wasn't anything nice.

“What did that prick do, huh?” he asked and looked at you while blowing out some smoke towards the opened window. That's when the light hit his face, showing you the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“Again?” you whispered breathlessly, getting up from your seat to appear in front of him seconds later. Your fingers caught his chin, turning his face so you could see it better.

“Don't switch the topic on me.” he groaned with annoyance, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. Seeing your face so upset, analyzing every little scratch on his face, especially the purple mark splashed on his side, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Answer for an answer?” you asked, recalling a little rule the two of you had since your early childhood. His tongue brushed over his teeth as his mouth was closed, just accepting his fate.

“I asked first.” he barked, forcing a smirk on his chopped lips. His legs part, inviting you a little closer, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso. One of Simon's arms rested on your shoulder while the other held his cigarette away from you. “Plus, you already know the answer to your question so...”

“It wasn't that bad, it's just… We weren't a match, that's it.” you started, watching him raise his eyebrow in disbelief, knowing you too well to just believe it was the only reason. “God, you're annoying.” you huff and roll your eyes.

“Proud of it, too.” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window to watch you squirm and collect your thoughts. That's what you thought he was doing, but actually, Simon's eyes were just wandering over your face to admire you, even if for just a couple of seconds.

Every little detail of your face was mapped in his head, knowing every curve and blemish, every beauty mark or scar that you had. He adored every part of you, especially your eyes that looked so lost in thought, so easy for him to get away with his actions.

“He was nice, we went for a walk in the park nearby. Then I just realized he… Wasn't exactly the person I was looking for, and I told him that.“ you met his gaze, dark browns hazed with nicotine, eyelids heavier than usual. His pupils were blown out, twitching as he looked into your own eyes. “I think I wasn't too gentle with it, he got so upset.”

Your gasp made his body stiffen in alert, the hand that rested on your shoulder gently squeezing it to encourage you to speak. His expression was puzzled, as if he was shifting between different emotions, analyzing the way your eyes fluttered. Of course, he didn't miss the water collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and quieter than before, as if you were a deer caught in the headlights. A dainty, sweet little fawn that he wished he could take care of better. His expression softened, the clench in his jaw relaxing under your touch,

“Not upset like that.” you assured, pulling away to rest your hands on his sides, gripping the material of his hoodie. The material is soft and smells so comfortable. The mix of his cologne and cigarettes, despite how much you hated him smoking, the scent always warmed your heart.

“He said something, didn't he?” he asked, teeth clenching as you nodded your head. “Take your time.” as he soothed your hair, the cigarette was thrown into the ashtray you got for him. His now free hand reached to your forearm, drawing calming shapes on your skin, causing goosebumps.

“Well, he just said that I'm wasting his time, how much he regretted seeing me that day because I turned out to be an 'indecisive little baby'. He…” you let out a shaky breath, trying so hard not to show him how much the guy's words hurt you. “He said I was unattractive and boring anyway. He just left me there.”

“Why didn't you call?” he asked, his jaw clenching again, and you felt the muscles of his back tensing under your fingertips. He shifted uncontrollably, trying to stay calm for you. “He'd have to look for his teeth in the fuckin' ground.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the image of Simon covered in the guy's blood, panting heavily with anger. Knowing how much he cared made you feel even worse for telling him all of this.

Simon's mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course, he'd beat the living shit out of your awful date, but what mattered more, the most, was you.

“You told me not to go, and I didn't listen.” you reminded him, biting your inner cheek to keep your composure. “You were right about him from the start, I just… Didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never bother me, doll.” he assured, leaning closer to you. His face was mere inches away from yours, eyes scanning from your brows to your lips, stopping there for a second before he got right back to your eyes. “All he said was pure bullshit, I hope you know that.”

Your lack of response, and the nervous swallow you did, made his heart sink in realization. Of course, you'd listen to the man who was so direct rather than your friend who admired you in silence. You couldn't see yourself from his perspective.

You couldn't see how much he looked up to you, your soft and kind nature, how much he adored your voice when you rambled about school, friends, and your hobbies. Likewise, you didn't see your body like he did, as pure perfection. Furthermore, you didn't deserve to hear so many lies from such an insecure little fucker who got upset he wouldn't fuck you, as Simon thought.

The room was awfully quiet, as you closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. He could see it, and it made him even more mad, not at you. At himself. How could he be so blind?

Now, sitting so close to you, thinking over all the ways he could show you how wrong the guy was, it hit him. He felt it before, the way his heart sped up thinking about you. How you were the first thing he thought in the morning after he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. You were always on his mind, a fever dream of your touch, words, and smile wandering every time he needed comfort.

That's so obvious. He was stupid to believe the reason he was so mad when you mentioned your date was just because he had a bad feeling about him. He just wanted it to be him. All those years, he was just so blind.

Simon loved you like a madman, worshipping the ground you walk on and feeling lucky he could breathe the same air as you. He craved your comforting touch, you were the reason he liked to be touched in the first place, always pulling away from hugs too soon before he met you.

He swallowed harshly, shifting in his seat again, pulling you closer as he cupped your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, moving up to wipe a couple of tears that ran down your face.

"Look at me, please." his voice cracked, eyelids fluttering as his mouth felt incredibly dry. Licking his lips, he smiled softly as he saw you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with such a questionable mix of emotions. "You deserve way better than that dumb fuck." he spat out, holding back from saying 'I'd treat you better.'

"He was right, Si. I agreed to go even if I knew I didn't want any of it, I didn't want him." you whispered shakily, your hands resting atop his, Despite your state, you melted under his touch, hoping it'd last forever.

"Even if you knew that, he should be lucky you gave him a chance." his comment made the two of you chuckle softly, catching each other's gaze. You felt lost in his eyes, the dreamy brown making your legs feel weak like cotton. "Who did you want then?"

'You were the one I wanted.' you thought to yourself, immediately scolding yourself for even thinking that. His hands caressing your face felt warm, they felt like the comfort you so desperately needed.

You felt your cheeks get warmer as he got closer, and for a split second, you thought he heard your inner voice. Despite your worries, Simon didn't look away or leave, he just stared into your eyes as if they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

"He's a fool for losing you, sweetheart." his voice echoed in your head, making you feel giddy at the raspy sound of the nickname he gave you. He never called you that before. It slipped so easily off his tongue, sounding so perfect.

Seconds later, you felt courageous. 'Now or never.' the little voice inside your head whispered, taking over your body and inching closer to him. Lips almost touching as you clung to his hoodie, trying to pull him towards you.

Simon was faster, his lips hungrily latching onto yours in a rushed, messy manner. It felt like he waited for this moment all his life, fingers holding your face as close to him as possible. His body slid off the windowsill, standing on his feet and pulling your bodies against each other.

One of your hands rested on his chest, grasping the soft material with your shaky fingers, the other running up his body to find its' place in his hair, tugging on the ends. Your action caused him to groan, deepening the kiss with the way you tilted your head, allowing the two of you to lose yourselves.

It was fast, messy, and greedy. The way he turned you around so you'd lean against the wall, letting him cage you in his embrace made you gasp into his mouth. Simon felt himself growing breathless, but it didn't matter.

That's when you felt it. You felt his love in such a different way than before. It was strong, storming into you like a hurricane to leave your mind a hazed mess. All you could think about was the fast beating of his heartbeat under your fingertips, the way he melted into your body as the kisses slowed down, turning into short pecks.

A string of saliva connected the two of you as you pulled away, catching your breaths. Foreheads touching, Simon's thumb rubbing your swollen lower lip, feeling the mix of spit under the pad of his finger.

You felt heavenly, tears almost spilling again as you realized that your crush on him wasn't just a crush. It was hard for you to admit your love to him, but now you could hear the mean voices in your head go away with the way he held you so close to him.

And for the first time in a while, Simon felt at peace, knowing he was right where he belonged. You were the light he was chasing in the dark tunnel of his life and now he could just have you. He felt your arms wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't focus on anything else. He felt stronger than ever, cared for, loved.

No words were needed between the two of you as you just stood there, bodies tangled, and leaned against the wall to keep the two of you from falling to the floor from how shaky your legs were.

No words were needed for the two of you to admire the moment of quiet, peaceful breaths syncing with each other.

No words were needed for the two of you to admit how blind you were, not noticing or not admitting your feelings for each other.

No words were needed to express the love you felt for each other, just as it's always been.

masterlist | request info

[xwingsandohs]

‘Haunted Beauty’ | Spencer Reid

prompt: ‘Person A likes to sketch, and B catches them sketching, and asks what they are drawing. Person A had been drawing B, so they stutter out an excuse while slamming their sketchbook closed.’

word count: 2.3k

content warnings?: none. fluff

a/n: this is the beginning of a renaissance where i come back to tumblr. bare with me while i reformat stuff and checkout my recent posts if ya can

When you reach eleven days without being called out to the field for a case, there’s a lull in the BAU that leaves everyone bored and irritable.

Morgan sits at his corner desk twiddling his pen, spinning on his chair and occasionally ripping up small pieces of paper to aim at someone’s (usually Reid’s) head. His aim is terrible, only because the small, rolled-up balls weigh so little, so you can watch with suppressed giggles until Reid finally notices his game. A hit to the head leads to an irritated “Hey!” - While you and Morgan laugh openly.

Morgan walks over to ruffle the messy hair of your colleague and picks up the small mess he’s left on the floor around him- Spencer shuts the small notebook he’d been working in at the disruption.

You spin around on your chair to see Emily not-so-subtly looking for cheap flights on her laptop- one of her favourite ways to guarantee her time-off is approved is by booking the trip before she even puts in the request. There’s no need for the efforts really, Hotch has never denied a PTO request since your jobs are so demanding, though it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

JJ comes up behind Emily waving an empty mug, asking if she wants another coffee too. She nods, groans into a “God, yes please.” - before JJ begins to ask about her vacation plans and where she hopes to go, pointing at her computer.

Coffee sounds like a fantastic idea, so you stand from your chair and do a lazy spin towards Morgan - “Yes please, mama.” - and taking the empty cup from Spencer’s extended hand too before he even gets the chance to ask. You smile at him warmly- and before you even get a chance to lean over and see what he’s been working on, he’s slammed his notebook shut again and said “Actually, I could do with a break too, I’ll join you.”

You nod and shrug acceptingly, and Spencer jogs across to JJ when she shouts to make enough for everyone, and grabs the two mugs from her hand as well. “Thanks, Spence.”

It takes you only a minute to prep the coffee, replacing the filter and dumping in some grounds and Spencer has swooped in to fill up the water jug before you get the chance. You thank him, and watch as he turns to the sink in the small kitchenette, flicks the tap on and watches as the water fills its container.

He’s wearing a comfortable-looking navy cardigan, it’s well-fitting and you’re acutely aware of how he’s allowed his own sense of style to come through in his working wardrobe over his years in the BAU. You allow yourself an indulgent look at your co-worker while his back is to you, grinning slightly as you enjoy the view.

“How’s the case files?” He asks as he finishes loading the machine and presses the button to let the coffee drip. His hands glide in their motions after so long of using the machine most days.

“I finished all my consults, now it’s just an endless pile of cold cases to keep me busy.” You drag out a few vowels as you speak, teetering close to yawning in exasperation but the easy nights at home have kept you well-rested.

“Me too.” He shrugs, gently pushing the tub of sugar closer to the mugs to use when the coffee has finished.

“What are you making notes on?” You ask, and lean your body comfortably against the countertop.

“Notes?” He scrunches his face.

“You’ve been scribbling in your notebook for the past half hour.” “Oh!”

Realisation washes over his face, and you wonder if there’s a reason for his unusually cloudy brain. You laugh just once and raise an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Nothing in particular, just some musings to keep me busy.” He shrugs.

There’s an old metal tin sitting on the side, some cookies that an agent had made and brought in for everyone to take from. You reach across and open it, looking closely for the biggest one before taking it. You snap it in half and present the biggest piece to the man beside you.

“Thanks.” He utters, before taking an indulgent bite.

“What kind of musings are keeping Dr Reid busy on this fine Thursday afternoon?” You ask with a glint in your eye.

He shrugs, and begins to mumble through his cookie-filled mouth before pausing to actually swallow before he speaks. His action makes you giggle. “I was asked if I’d like to do a guest lecture on profiling for the FBI Academy and I’m not really sure if I want to do it.”

“Why not?” You ask sincerely.

“I think a lot of my stories about the job might change their mind about working here.” He smiles, you both laugh, and then he shakes his head. He’s not wrong. “No, I’m kidding. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for doing something like that alone, I think there’s a lot of pressure for lecturers to be engaging and informative, and I tend to go off on a tangent.”

“I love your tangents.” You reply honestly and with a smile, which he returns appreciatively, and a little rosy in the cheeks. “But I know what you mean, I’m a profiler for a living but I don’t think I could get on a stage and give a good lecture on it.”

“I, um,” He smiles wistfully and nods his head as he speaks, something he frequently does. “I’d love to run my own classes at the Academy or maybe Georgetown one day, but I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility yet.”

He’d be a fantastic professor, you know this. And you’re sure he’d have a lecture full of hopeful psychology fanatics just like you both once were. “Maybe a guest lecture is a good trial run, even if it’s a little out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, then begins to pour out the coffees. Each mug is almost identical- white or navy with some variation of the FBI logo on, but somehow he knows who’s is who’s, and leaves enough room for cream in cups that need it. “Which case would you choose?”

“For a guest lecture?” He nods. “Um…”

It’s difficult, while every case is important you know that a balance needs to be found in a case chosen for an Academy lecture- it can’t be too standard, it wouldn’t show off why your jobs are so important or might even struggle to keep the audience interested. But you can’t choose one of your worst cases either, some of them can be particularly heavy even for you all to think back on.

“Maybe the zodiac imitator?” You suggest with a shrug. “You can go through how you deduced it wasn’t the real zodiac, looking for messages in online articles, Garcia going through MENSA records, you could even talk about navigating all the reporters and public attention.”

“Y’know, I was thinking about that one.” He agrees and you tap his arm playfully. “The trainees always enjoy the imitator cases.”

“As much as you can enjoy this kinda thing, right?” You laugh humorlessly. Spencer knows everyone’s coffee preference off by heart, you know that, but it still makes you feel a little hot when he perfects your drink and holds it out to you.

“Maybe ‘interested in’ would be a better way to put it.” He corrects himself with a similar chuckle. You nod in agreement.

You both take a small moment to enjoy a sip of your drinks before taking the rest of the mugs to the members of your team- Morgan grins at Reid as he passes his mug, and JJ and Emily thank you when you bring their drinks too.

“What do you think,” JJ calls you by name. “Where would you go for a beach holiday?”

“Beach?” You say and laugh lightly. “Wherever Morgan’s not going.”

They both grin and laugh, and you hear Emily begin to say “Y’know I’ve seen those pictures of Morgan’s Jamaican resort…”

You head back to your own desk, you have Reid right in front of you and Morgan at a table across from you both, it makes for easy conversation and sharing of the sweet treats you bring in when you try to hide them from the rest of the team- more for you that way. Every so often you stop on your way to work and fill up a pick ‘n’ mix, you know by now that Spencer’s favourites are the chocolate jazzles and Morgan loves anything sour.

Emily shouts for Morgan to help her find a holiday destination, so he shakes his head playfully and taps you on the shoulder as he walks past you.

The coffee is perfect as you sip it, just slightly hot, not too sweet and not too strong. You cradle it between two hands as you step past your desk and stop in front of Spencer’s, leaning gently against the table. He looks up at you, mid sip, and raises his eyebrows to ask what you need from him.

“Can I see what you’ve been writing?” You ask innocently, pointing at the small brown book that sits central on his desk. A pen sticks out of the top of it to hold the page he was using, and he seems unusually shocked by your question.

You’re profilers, though Spencer is a surprisingly good liar, you have a feeling he wasn’t pondering a guest lecture for the Academy.

“There’s nothing important in there.” He shakes his head and instinctively goes to pull it out of reach.

“C’mon, Reid!” You giggle, putting your coffee cup down in a space on his desk. “I just wanna know what’s been keeping you occupied. You’ve been scribbling in it all afternoon, so secretively too.”

“I-I’m not-” He pauses, stuttering and puts his own mug down and out of reach before pulling the pen from between the pages of his notebook. He leaves the brown pad where it is. “being secretive, why do you want to see?”

“I’m just curious.” You say, bowing your head in apology. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’ll just leave you to it.”

“N-no, wait,” He stops you, seeing your small change in demeanour and immediately washing with guilt. Your body language changes just slightly, not quite closed off but a little less open and maybe a smidge of your own guilt for possibly upsetting him. He’s not upset, and he certainly does want you to be. “I’m sorry. I-I’m just, um,”

You turn back to him, offering another apologetic look. It’s not necessary, and he holds the notebook tightly in his hand, looking at it while he thinks. “Would you like to see?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Why not?” He hums, gently passing the small brown book to you. You take it, just as gently, curling a finger into the gap created by the pen to hold the open page.

The brown book is worn on the edges, creased from opening so many times and his recent page is over half way through. You’ve seen him scribble in it frequently, and you’ve seen the way he slips it into his satchel at the end of the day- it’s important to him, you know that.

You open the page and it’s a drawing, a sketch in black biro. You’ve seen some of Reid’s drawings before- wavy lines, shrunken eyes and wiry hair, it’s his own unique style of illustration and you love his hidden passion for it. His drawings have been of imaginary characters, animals, even halloween decorations; they have a haunted aspect to them and you admire his talent for capturing the way he sees the world. This one is adorned with small wavy lines bouncing off the central figure.

“It’s-” This one you recognise, an unhidden smile and the shape of the hair. “-me. You drew me?”

“Um… yeah.” He smiles, but it doesn’t hide his nerves as he shifts in his chair while you look over the lines he’s made.

It’s today, you know the top you’re wearing today and one wiggly line for the chair you’ve been perched on. Your hair is styled as it is today, but you haven’t smiled so brightly today, you haven’t had the reason. That part, you realise, is from his memory. You like that he thinks of you as a happy person- the lines show that too, they add a bright, liveliness to the illustration of you.

There’s small flowers on the page adjacent- lavender, daisies, chrysanthemums, with what you assume is the scientific name underneath. They dot across the page like a printed pattern, but with the handwriting you know of Spencer all around. Underneath the drawing of you, though you’re not sure if it’s meant to describe both pages, it says “Beautiful”.

“Wow, Spence- I mean- Spencer,” You stutter over your words, grinning and feeling flushed at the thought of him spending his afternoon drawing you so dearly. “It’s amazing, you’re really good at art, y’know.”

“Thanks.” He replies sweetly, face unabashedly pink and smiling from ear to ear. “It’s um, really tempting to draw you when you’re sitting right across from me. I wanted to try and capture your smile but my drawings have given you more of a… haunting beauty.”

You don’t know what to say, still smiling and stuttering over nothing at all as you look over to him, to the drawing, then him again. His pride in his work makes his face light up in a way you rarely see on the job. “A-and Spence is fine, if you like.”

“Thanks for letting me see, Spence.” You say, dancing lightly around the last word, an affectionate nickname you know is only reserved for the special few. It feels good to be special to him. “I’ve never been very good at drawing.”

“I don’t think skill matters when you’re passionate about what you’re trying to recreate on the page.” He says with a simple smile, then bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from being too bright.

“You think so?” “Yeah.”

—

a/n: and just for funsies…

[dartlekey]

Up and down goes the small pink pill, bouncing across Eddie’s hand. He twists it between his fingers, bounces it across his knuckles - it glances off one of his many rings occasionally, but never drops, is always caught by a steady palm, and flicked back into rotation. Steve watches idly - the movement is mesmerizing, even more so because he’s a little high, relaxing on Eddie’s narrow bed as Eddie scribbles into a notebook. 

Whether the scribbles are song lyrics or campaign ideas Steve doesn’t know; he’s asked before, but Eddie wouldn’t tell. He’s been weirdly uptight all day, actually, more quiet than usual, but asked Steve to stay when he offered to fuck off if Eddie needed some space. (It’d make sense if Eddie needed space, really; they’ve been hanging out so much recently, but there’s something about each other’s company that makes both of them feel safe, and neither of them usually gets much of that, anymore.)

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Steve says, stubbing out the joint in Eddie’s bedside ashtray. “What kinda pill is that?”

Eddie doesn’t glance up, but Steve feels the weight of his attention shift as his fingers pinch the tablet to stillness, at least for the moment. “Estrogen,” he says, sounding contemplative. “The other kind of E.”

Steve frowns, because he’s a little faded, sure, but not high enough for Eddie to be this confusing. “Wait, isn’t that like, hormones? Thought you only sold drugs.”

“Yeah, this is just for me,” Eddie says, then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Steve sits up, runs a hand through his hair - the kids like to joke about him having a “Mom-Sense” like Peter Parker has a “Spidey-Sense” (whoever the fuck that is), and they’re not wrong; he can always tell when someone is struggling with themselves. “Yeah?”

Eddie does look up at him, then. Doesn’t exactly look nervous, more… tired, if anything. 

“I think I’m a girl.”

Steve blinks, considers this. Doesn’t consider doubting Eddie, because that’d be fucking stupid - Eddie likes to act impulsive, but someone who can plan eleven-hour campaigns and still have four super-geniuses howling with shock and betrayal at the end of it? Someone like that doesn’t speak without thought. “How come?”

Eddie huffs out a long breath, spins around in the wobbly desk chair. “Wheeler Junior was being a sore loser, said I’m just like his sister. I know he was trying to piss me off, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought makes me fucking giddy.”

Steve nods a few times, plucks at a loose thread on Eddie’s comforter. “Huh. Yeah, kind of makes sense, actually.”

Eddie squints at him. “It does?”

Steve shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the weed has loosened his tongue enough to admit, “You’re pretty.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his - her (?) mouth. ”Boys can be pretty.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, girl-pretty. Don’t laugh, it’s a thing! It’s like - like, I can see a guy and go yeah, he’s good looking, and that’s it and I go about my day, but with girls there’s like this sense of awe? It’s like, wow, she’s pretty, can I get her to smile? I kinda wanna know what her hair smells like.”

Eddie stares at him incredulously, and Steve gives an annoyed huff, only just manages to restrain himself from overexplaining how last week he actually thought he was bi for a hot second, before he realized that apart from Eddie, guys still seem about as sexually alluring as housetrained rats.

Well, not apart from Eddie, now, because it turns out Eddie is a girl. Problem solved.

“So what do I call you now?”

“Hmm?”

“Like…” Steve waves his hand vaguely. “Do you want a new name? Or something?”

Eddie starts bouncing the pill across her fingers again. “No, Eddie is fine. It’s… neutral, I like that. But use girl words, I guess?”

Steve frowns. Maybe he is too high for this. “Like… babe? Sweetheart?”

Eddie barely manages to tamp down on a laugh. “Like she and her, dude. Like Eddie’s driving the other girls to Nancy’s because Robin doesn’t have a car and Max and El are underage. Five minutes as a girl and you already want to climb me like a tree, is that it?”

Steve blushes, lobs Eddie’s dog-eared copy of the Silmarillion at her, which she dodges expertly, cackling in that wild way that she has. Still Eddie. Still pretty. “Shut up, it’s not like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins, tugging her hair in front of her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

[poppy-metal]

Hi hello yes your creep!au is scratching an itch i didn't even know needed to be scratched! I absolutely love it and you 💖 especially your last post about her hesitancy to reveal herself I just augghhrheuehh like it's not that she thinks getting to know him will ruin the idea she's had of him because she does truly care about him under all that psychopathy. it's her fear that him finally knowing who she is will ruin this good thing they have going, like he's validating her and she doesn't have to be vulnerable. Maybe he starts hinting more at wanting to see her face, tries to trick her into meeting up, just wants to know her name and she's panicking but while all this is going on he's noticing his project partner being more aloof with him, like she's trying to detach herself, and he's worried about that now too wondering what he did??? Can you tell I'm invested heavily? Like I need to know more!

giggles and kicks my feet -

I'm thinking of reader being invited to his dorm to study - going to hers is absolutely out of the question, there's too much evidence of her obsession with him all over the place - and you already know where arts room is.

you give yourself away a little - when you walk ahead of him and catch yourself, making sure you trail behind him - can't let him know you're already well aware of the location of his dorm. stepping inside it and trying to be normal. you come across as stiff and stoic to art when really you're containing yourself.

he thinks you probably dislike him. the wooden way you walk over to his bed when he motions to it - "you can sit - here, let me -" he shoves some pillows back so you have space to settle. he takes his desk chair, spinning it around and straddling it to face you. "so."

you blink at him, owlish. inside your head, your brain is spinning spinning spinning. everything around you is just art. on his bed - on his sheets that he sleeps in. the room smells like him. if you flopped down and burried your face in his pillows you'd be enveloped in it. dry. your mouth is so dry. you touch your throat - swallow.

art straightens and pushes hair out of his eyes - his curls are extra curly today - he must have showered this morning - "shit. are you thirsty - i could go get you something -" he's already standing up, so you nod and he smiles, like he's relieved to do something. "what d'you like? the vending machine in this dorm isn't half bad. there's like, water and soda - or i could go get you something from the cafeteria? their coffee is shit but they have these like, fruit smoothies that are actually good -"

"okay." you mumble, staring up at him, nearly in awe. his voice is addicting to listen too - but his face was getting flushed, trying to figure out what you'd want. you actually would have preferred a coke, but when art raises and eyebrow and says - "right, cool. smoothie then?" you nod like that's absolutely what you want.

he pockets his dorm room key and walks backwards as he leaves, waves his arm in a vague 'do whatever' gesture - "make yourself comfortable or as comfortable as you can on a shitty dorm bed. I'll be quick."

you last about five seconds after the door clicks shut before you're diving into his bed. inhaling into his pillow and moaning. it smells so good. a full body shiver goes through you. you roll onto your back, bringing the pillow with you - covering your face. you want his scent all over you - you want it soaked into your pores. into your skin. into your bloodstream. it washes over you like a wave. warm, warm, warm. you stick your tongue out - press it against the fabric of his pillowcase. it tastes like plain old fucking fabric. but. arts art art art arts. you suck it into your mouth. clench your legs. you cant masturbate right now but you want to. want to hump against his bed -

arts phone pings. you sit up, blinking. you hadn't realized he'd left his phone here.

biting your lip, you pick it up. the notification was just an email from a professor but you swipe up. locked. thats fine. you tap in the date he won his first trophy in tennis - unlock his phone.

thumb through his messages. you halt at the message he'd last sent you - you haven't been able to check today yet.

would at least tell me your name? you know so much about me and i don't even know what to call you.

you cant, though. your name is recognizable. but still..... you think. what if he called me a petname..... what if he had a special nickname just for you.... then you'd be his, in a way. you already were but - it would just cement it even more. what would art call you, given the chance? given what hes learned so far? you would be anything for him. your real name doesn't even matter - just what he calls you. that might as well be the real you.

you set his phone back down exactly as it was. swipe a stick of his cinnamon gum from his desk and put it in your pocket.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on thomas shelby in which y/n is a girl in her early 20's who's his girlfriend. lately he's been super busy with work and they haven't spent much quality time together. during one of his dinners at arrow house she purposely acts flirty with some of the male guests just to make tommy jealous and get a reaction out of him. it works and after dinner he confronts her about it but she acts clueless. they have an "argument" during which he understands she actually did that on purpose. that soon turns into a heated makeout session cause they're both craving for each other and where he gets kinda "possessive" (in a good way).

thanks :)

Hey Love!

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it. The ending is a bit different, hope that's alright. I also may have thrown in more than kissing...

An extra super duper big thank you to @theshelbyslimited not only did Cass approve this outline and get me motivated to write it she also cooked up the best line in the story!

Warnings: smut, spanking, possessive dom, nothing super descriptive (compared to my other stuff), mentions of potential cheating, sad childhood vibes.

You woke up and sighed heavily at the neat blankets on the other side of your bed. Well, your boyfriend's bed. You looked around the massive room and felt a dreadful feeling start to creep up the back of your neck again. The hangover you had was making the room spin slightly as blood pounded in your ears.  

You and Thomas had been going out for almost 7 months. You had nothing personal at his house as you rarely slept there. Most of the time was spent at your flat in London. You’d spent the night last night because everyone was too drunk to drive you home. 

You rolled over onto your side running your hands over the silky sheets, missing your bed back home. Remembering that the big charity gala was tonight you realized you would need to get home soon in order to be ready in time. 

You moved to the bathroom and then pulled on last night's dress. 

_______

Your head was pounding as you moved down the stairs. Walking down the hall you heard a sound that made your stomach drop. 

A very feminine giggle escaped from Thomas’s office. You knew you should barge in there, all of Esme’s warnings flashed before you. A feeling that had been stuck inside you since childhood started to take over making you feel small and worthless. 

Stupid man. 

You knocked on the office door. 

“Come in.” Tom’s voice called out quickly. He was sitting at his desk looking unamused at his guest who was thankfully fully dressed and sat opposite to him. 

He introduced you and you immediately disliked the woman lounging in the chair. She was sprawled out looking much too comfortable, but there was something off about her. Her gaze and smile were eerie. 

“Sorry to bother you, I should probably be off.” You siad keeping your voice neutral. 

“I’ll take you.” He gave you a nod. “Thanks for coming by Diana.” 

“I’ll tell Mosley you got the message. It was nice meeting you.” 

She left the room and a maid took her towards what you assumed was the front door. Mosley? Anything to do with him is an absolute problem. The man was twisted and the evil sensation that clung to her like a cloud suddenly made sense. 

However, the woman was young, blonde, and reminding you of Tommy’s late wife Grace. Your mind had already started to prepare you for the breakup. You were caught up in your thoughts and suddenly you were in the passenger seat on the way home.  

“You alright?” Tom asked eventually sliding his hand across the seat to grab yours. 

“We haven't spent a lot of time together.” You blurted out. It was easier than asking him if he was cheating.  You knew his reputation when you had started going out with him, it wouldn't be unlike him to break promises. 

“Been busy.” He shrugged. “Lots happening with work.” 

“Is Diana just for work?” You whispered unable to speak clearly.  

“Yes.” He answered seriously. “Do me a favor?” 

“What?”” you asked still trying to decide if you should trust his answer about Diana. 

“Wear the red dress tonight eh?” 

“Alright.” You said thoughts spinning. He kissed you and you ran up to your apartment wishing you had someone to talk to that wasn't related to him. 

______________________

You were late to the party but as you weren't engaged or married to Thomas it didn't really matter. No one took you very seriously anyway. 

You wore the red dress paired with an elegant diamond necklace he had gifted you for your birthday. They felt heavy resting on your neck. No matter how much you tried to reassure yourself that he was just busy with work, the pain in your stomach wouldn't budge. Walking up the steps you saw a couple flirting with each other on a balcony. 

Watching them laugh you had an excellent and horrible idea. Maybe you could make him jealous? Then he would pay more attention to you, while also confirming that he is faithful. 

You decided it should be fine as long as you were subtle and nothing got too out of hand. 

Scanning the room your eyes landed on Tom’s favorite business partner and you smiled. This was going to be fun. 

“You're late.” His voice caught you as you turned around. 

“Takes time to look this lovely.” You smiled up at him as Tom’s blue eyes devoured your appearance. 

“What a lie.” He kissed the top of your head and for a moment you felt like maybe you wouldn't need your plan. “I have to keep a close eye on Mosley. Try to keep yourself out of trouble.” He whispered in your ear as he held you in an embrace. To anyone else, you would have looked like two lovers sharing a moment. 

You couldn't help but frown as he pulled away from you and moved into the sitting room. He didn't even introduce you to anyone. You stood there awkwardly watching all the wealthy people, a great deal older than you laugh and socialize. 

You looked around for your original lifeline and caught him by the window with a disgruntled face. 

Once reaching him you enjoyed the exasperated sigh he let out. Tommy kept you far away from all things related to the business, but no matter how hard he tried you had ended up running into Alfie a great deal. 

“Alfie!” You said in a cheerful voice. His eyes looked you over for a moment and for some reason you felt he already knew what you were planning. 

“Here to piss off your man then?” 

“How did you - Never mind. You stay by me it will prevent you from having to talk to the rest of the people here.” 

“And make Thomas angry.” He said with a smile and a glint in his eye. He reached out his rough calloused hand for you to shake. 

The rest of the evening you held on to his arm and enjoyed the stories he told you. You didnt need to fake laugh because his description of Tommy in most of his stories was genuinely funny. 

You saw Tom's eyes land on you a few times throughout the night. Other times tipsy men would come up and try to steal you away from Alfie’s side making you all the more grateful for his presence. 

You didn't want to fight off all the creeps alone. Another reason to be angry at Thomas. 

The night passed quickly as you and Alfie chatted about family, history, the world, conflicts, and religion. You enjoyed his company and started to dread the end of the evening. 

But the time had come when he had to leave. He gave you a large bear hug and wished you the best of luck with a wink. 

The rest of the guests left including the family which you thought was odd. Normally for late parties like this, they would spend the night. 

Polly gave you a hug and told you how pretty you looked in your gown. 

“Certainly made an impression on Thomas! He’s kicking everyone out. Have a good night!” She kissed your cheek and winked at you. 

He kicked everyone out? Your stomach twisted, this wasn't going to go over well. 

Your goal was to go to bed next to him, but your prize was appearing to be more of a night on the couch.  

You stood in the dining room watching the drunk socialites stumble out of the house. He shook hands and thanked people, but soon it was empty. Just the two of you. 

You watched him look you over from the doorway to the dining room, eyes dark, expression shut down. You thought about being the first one to speak but decided against it. He was the one that started this whole situation. 

“Had a lot to say to Alfie tonight.” He said in a cold voice. 

“Well, sue me for actually enjoying someone listening to what I have to say, unlike a certain someone who’s barely spoken to me in a  fortnight” Your words were equally as cold despite not wanting to fight. 

“Ah, and Alfie listened to what you had to say eh?” He laughed darkly. 

“Yes, he even did me the favour of keeping the creeps away. Should hire him for every-” Something flashed in his eyes preventing you from finishing your sentence. He caught you off guard by coming towards you. He walked towards you with such confidence and anger you had to fight your instinct to run away. 

His hands raised towards you and you flinched. You were relived to feel the nature of his touch was not something to run from. His hand squeezed the back of your neck tightly, forcing your lips up towards his mouth. 

His lips crashed against yours with passion and you let him take what he wanted. His other hand gripped your rib cage holding you in place.

"Mine." He breathed between kisses making your heart feel like it was about to explode.

You kissed him back feeling yourself start to slip away. He kissed down your neck, and suddenly your dress slipped down your body. Your mind briefly wondered when he got the buttons and zipper undone - all mysteries were banished as he tuned you around. He pushed you against the table and you shivered when your breasts pressed against the cold polished wood of the table. 

His hand came down on your ass hard enough that the sound bounced around the empty space. Pain and pleasure ran through you like electricity. 

“Don’t. You. Ever.” He said in between blows. “Go. Looking. For. Someone. Else. To Listen.” 

Embarrassment flooded your face as you felt the wetness between your legs begin to drip down your thighs. 

Looking up at the large space, knowing that any of the staff might wonder in caused a weird sort of chaos to swirl in your veins.

“I - I Won’t” You breathed. You expected another round, still unsure of why this was making you so turned on. His hand gently caressed the red flesh. 

“Please.” You whimpered with tears starting to spill over on your cheeks. He didn't waste any more of your time. He took you roughly on the table. Relentlessly forcing orgasms from your body. When you felt spent and overstimulated his words would soothe you back into doing exactly what he wanted and needed. 

Eventually, he wore himself out and you laid there on your back looking up at the chandelier, mind only processing the twinkles in the crystal. Your whole body was floating and you couldn't really think well enough to sort out what was going on. 

You felt rested. He laid on the table next to you, out of breath with his chest heaving. 

“You on the table like that really brings the room together.” He said with a smile on his face. You remember his family's hate for the room and let out a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long while.

"What?" You must have imagined him saying it because there was no way Thomas Shelby would be apologizing to you. He never apologized for anything - ever.

"I'm sorry, for being busy. For the party - and well -" his voice trailed off.

"Oh don't have to apologize for that." You laughed. His eyes roamed over your body and he rolled onto his side placing a softer kiss on your lips.

After that he carried you up to bed, settling himself next to you.

____________________________________

@theshelbyslimited Thank you again for “Well, sue me for actually enjoying someone listening to what I have to say, unlike a certain someone who’s barely spoken to me in a fortnight”

[thebest-medicine]

Day 14: Soft

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 - Caleb / Mollymauk - lee!Molly

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Based on “Date someone who will give you back scratches when they’re reading or watching something next to you, and when you squirm they just smile because they know you love it and continue until you’re giggling up a storm. Better if they sigh slightly “You’re disturbing my peace” and tickle you more until you’re a puddle and they have the goofiest smile on their face.”

Words: 1.2k

—

Caleb doesn’t look up from the page when Molly walks into the library. He doesn’t even look up when Molly makes it over to the desk, trailing a finger over the wizard’s hunched shoulders. “And how are you doing this evening, Mr. Caleb?” 

“Mm. Fine. And you?” Caleb replies, his gaze still focused intently on the text before him. 

“Just fine, myself—was wondering if you’d like some company.” Mollymauk hops up onto the table, watching for a look, a glance, a little more attention. But, Caleb is dedicated, persistent—something Molly admires about him greatly. He leans back and spreads out amongst the pile of books and scrolls, knocking a few to the floor. 

“You are just as bad as the cat, you know. Maybe worse.”

“And yet here we are in a home full of cats.” Molly’s voice is smug, teasing. “Do you just have a love for being close to beings that mess with you?”

Caleb rolls his eyes. 

There we go. The eyes aren’t on Molly yet, but they are torn briefly from the book. An in. 

Molly’s tail coils around Caleb’s wrist. “Take a little break with me, won’t you?” 

Caleb huffs an almost laugh. “Maybe, in a bit.”

Mollymauk releases his wrist, pouting. He taps his nails a few times, thinking. His tail flicks.

A few minutes pass. He spins awkwardly on the table, knocking off a few more books and nearly tumbling into Caleb’s lap; he turns his head to give him a look—a rather cute, pleading, eyes-wide, I-need-you-to-pay-me-some-attention kind of look. 

Caleb fights with a fond smile as his eyes flick up over the pages of the book to finally take it all in. “Alright, Liebchen.” He sighs, marks his page in the book, and closes it shut, scooting his chair back to stand. “Not a break, I’m not done yet, but… come.”

Molly sits up, stretches, and the pleased smile on his face is just as apparent in his eyes. He follows as Caleb gets up and makes his way to the much more comfortable, much better place to read —in Molly’s opinion. The sofa cushions are soft, and it’s long enough that Caleb can sit down and Molly can lounge about where he likes. The tiefling wastes no time crawling right into Caleb’s lap. He settles in face down, chin resting on his arms.

As soon as Caleb gets the book open and the bookmark safely set down, he reaches with the hand not holding up his reading materials to scratch gently at Mollymauk’s scalp.

Molly makes quite a few little sounds of approval as Caleb’s fingers card through his hair and he melts within a matter of minutes. Fingers slide gently down the back of his scalp, sending tingles down his spine as they travel down to his neck. Molly fidgets slightly, the feeling starting to prickle at the edge of ticklish. He hums, content and bubbly, against Caleb’s thigh and squirms into the nest of his own arms he’s made for himself in the wizard’s lap. 

The fingers continue, light and gentle and soothing, to make their way lower onto his shoulders and upper back. It’s considerably more ticklish, but still bearable enough to release all of the silly energy with a hum and a few squirms every so often. As Caleb’s fingers trail languidly over Molly’s shoulders, side to side, he reads away above him, by all appearances not noticing the twitches below. 

Each time fingers pass over a spot that hedges too close to ticklish to stay still, they continue on, not taking any extra time or particular care. But—the thing is, with how thoroughly Caleb is tracing over his back, scratching and caressing gently, he keeps going back to those spots, passing them over and over. And Molly already knows there’s a lot of them. It feels nice, it’s tingly and warm and close and just the right amount of teasing. He doesn’t want to give the wizard reason to stop any time soon, like squirming out of his lap after he just asked for attention. But also, he considers, maybe Caleb will abandon his studies and really have a go at him if he asks nice — it’s already gotten him this far. 

For now, Molly opts to keep quiet, as still as he can reasonably maintain, and enjoy the affection. He’s gone with the flow many times in his life, and Caleb’s flow seems like one he would very much like to follow.  

Caleb’s hand continues down, down, tickles along his back, down past his waist and Molly wriggles deeper into his lap and the couch. “Eehee- wa- heheheeEE—” He squeals into the crook of his elbow as Caleb’s blunt fingernails tickle softly over his ass, down toward the back of his thigh. “Fuck.” Molly hisses, muffled. The tracing, tickling wizard claw slowly makes it way down over his thigh to the back of his knee and Molly’s leg jerks closed involuntarily. “Nnggeh- naha shihit.” 

“Be careful with those.” Caleb says sternly, an unmistakable peppering of amusement in his voice. 

Molly whines quietly into his arms and lays his leg back out straight. 

The game continues to build pace slowly, one hand always on the book and the other slowly tinkering with various sensitivities he can find on Molly. His shoulder blades, the backs of his ribs, his spine, anywhere near the dip of his waist or tail, the small of his back, his knees, his thighs, his ass… no where was left safe and unscrutinized. And yet, it was still so delicate, earnest, curious, and innocent. Little tingles and sparks light up across Molly’s nervous system. He’s content to live within this afternoon for the rest of his waking hours. 

Then, the next time Caleb’s hand reaches up to turn the page of his book, it reappears just where the top of Molly’s thigh meets his ass. He gasps in a breath as the fingers wiggle, more deliberate and ticklish, over the skin there. They stay in that spot; unlike the skating, absentminded tickling of before — this has purpose, this has focus and intent. 

Molly tries to peak up at him, abandoning his arm nest to turn and peer behind him. He gets a face-full of book for his trouble. And a pinch to the back of his thigh. He squawks at that, kicking the cushions behind him. “MmPFF!” He reburies his face to try hiding the bright laughter threatening to spill over. 

“I’m trying to read, keep quiet down there.” Caleb, bemused, scolds cheekily from behind his book. 

Molly rolls his eyes and tries to sit up on his elbows while fighting off more laughter. Without looking, Caleb runs a few fingers clumsily down his tail. Molly falters and crumples back into the wizard’s lap. “N-no fair.” Molly whines through his giggling. “Are yohohou gonna read all night?” 

“It will take me a while, yes, if you keep distracting me.” Caleb replies, matter-of-factly.

[myosotisa]

Dial Drunk - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

ǁ  summary: Steve gets picked up drunk and taken to the sheriff's station. His emergency phone call goes unanswered.

ǁ  tags: major character death, angst, grief, very small amount of comfort at the end. mentions of driving intoxicated. reader uses she/her pronouns. its really, really fucking sad ok i don't know what else you want me to say. i was listening to Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan in a fast food drive through and had this idea and started crying in the drive through. so here.

ǁ  word count: 1.6k

When Steve got off work today, his intention was not to end up at a bar. It wasn’t to get drunk. It wasn’t to try to drive home anyway. And it certainly wasn’t to get pulled over, blow a 0.08, and end up handcuffed to a chair in the Hawkins Sheriff’s Office.

But what are intentions in the face of the consequences of your actions?

“Okay, Mr. Harrington,” the uniformed officer he didn’t recognize sighed as he slid into his office chair. “Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up? We’ve got a ticket written up – but because of your blood alcohol level, you might end up having to go to court.”

Fuck.

“Yeah…” Steve rubs at his face with his free hand, bringing it up to ruffle his hair, leaving it a total mess. He’s fucking exhausted, feels about ready to fall asleep sitting up. “Yeah, I got someone I can call.”

His vision blurs as the officer adjusts his desk phone to be within reach, the movement swimming like watercolor paint as he tries to blink back into focus. As soon as it’s set down, the officer pushes up out of his desk chair and disappears around a corner, leaving Steve alone with the phone.

The tremble of his fingers means nothing when he dials the number he knew by heart. Muscle memory he could probably follow in his sleep that would always lead him to the same place.

It rang once, twice, three times. Kept ringing. Then the voicemail recording kicked on.

“Hey! I’m not available right now,” your voice rang out, so familiar and comforting. He closed his eyes, trying to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat as he listened. “Sorry I missed you, but if you want to leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Breathing in deeply for the first time all night, and exhaling just as hard. “Hope you have an awesome rest of your day!”

The recording clicked off and the beeping tone telling him it had started to record came before he was ready for it. “Hey honey,” his voice caught in his throat on that godforsaken lump that he desperately tried to clear. “I miss you, I’m sorry I haven’t called recently.”

He took a deep breath, gripping the receiver so hard that the plastic croaked beneath his fingers. “I’m in some trouble, baby. I drank a little too much and tried to drive home. I know – I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Steve, you know Eddie will come and pick you up no matter what. I want you to be safe.’ And you’re right. You’re always right.” His next inhale feels like it’s choking him, tears springing to his eyes. “Anyway, I’m, uh, I’m at the Sheriff’s office. So if you get this… I’m sorry. And I love you.”

His thumb punched into the cradle, ending the call. Looking over his shoulder to where the officer had disappeared to, he took the chance. Dialed the number again, just as easily as he had before.

It rang once, twice, three times. Kept ringing.

“Hey! I’m not available right now. Sorry I missed you, but if you want-”

The line clicked dead. Head spinning on its axis, he saw a finger on the hook. Following the arm up, he came to the harsh eye contact of Sheriff Hopper. His mouth was set in a firm line, bags under his eyes, and skin lacking color. Like he’d been through the ringer, never quite recovered from his time in Russia.

“Hey Harrington,” his voice was gruff, stern. It made Steve want to shrink, want to duck out of the way of his ire. But he pushed that feeling down, numbed with liquor, and kept that steady eye contact. “A 0.08? Really?”

“Didn’t…” His tongue felt like dry cotton in his mouth, swallowing hard to no avail. “Didn’t, uh, think I’d drank that much.”

“Uh-huh.” Was the simple reply. Not uncaring, but also not exactly sympathetic. “I called Munson, he’s on his way to come pick you up.”

“No.”

Hopper almost cringed at the way Steve’s voice cracked on the word, expression shifting to one he couldn’t recognize in his intoxicated state. “No, she’ll call back. I know she will.”

The silence after his declaration was deafening. The only sound being the hum of the air conditioner that still ran on this humid summer night. “Okay, kid. Why don’t you come sit in my office with me?”

Before he could reply, the handcuff was being undone, left to hang off the arm of the chair while Steve brought his wrist up to rub at it. Hopper motioned for him to follow and, not having much option otherwise, Steve followed after with a slight stumble to his step.

The office was dark beside the warm toned lamp on the desk. There were papers everywhere, boxes of evidence stacked in the corner, a well contained explosion of empty coffee cups overflowing the trash can beside the table. Hopper pointed at one of the wooden chairs across from his office chair, one worded order of, “Sit,” which the younger didn’t hesitate to follow. The short walk had made some nausea kick up and he was eager to get back on solid ground.

A paper cup of cold water dropped down in front of him and when he opened his eyes again, Hopper was in his desk chair. Leaning forward with his elbows braced on the desk before him and focused entirely on Steve.

“I don’t have a better way to ask this, so I’m just gonna ask it.” His tone was softer, gentler. It made Steve’s skin crawl – being faced with that familiar look. The one that followed him everywhere he went. Pity. “Son, are you a danger to yourself?”

“No,” he was quick to reply, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring how he choked on the word. “Just… Just let me call again,” he pleaded, shifting forward to sit on the edge of the chair. “I swear, she’ll call me back. Just let me try one more time.”

“Hey! I’m not available right now. Sorry I missed you...”

“Steve.”

The refreshed recording – remembering what it sounded like, what you sounded like, had made the weight a little bit lighter. Made it a little bit easier to breathe. But he just wanted to hear it again, just one more time.

“Steve, look at me.” It took a monumental amount of effort but he looked up, blinking away the tears that were once again blurring his vision. Hopper’s face twisted in pain, faced with the sight of a sorrow he knew well. One he’d battled for years and years. Sorrow he’d accepted as his reality, been best friends with at one point. Sorrow that still hung in the back of his closet like a coat that didn’t fit right anymore but had too many memories to get rid of.

“You've got to stop doing this to yourself, kid.” The denial kicking in, hands coming up to fist in the ends of his hair that had gotten too long as he shook his head. “I know what you’re going through – really, honest to god, I do. But you’ve gotta stop doing this shit. She wouldn’t want–”

“What the fuck do you know about what she would want?!” He snapped, teeth bared. A wounded animal trapped in a corner. “You don’t know shit, nothing. Fuck…” His upper body collapsed, face burying in his palms as he hissed in breaths that felt like ice.

“... but if you want to leave a message…”

“It’s all I have, Hop,” came the broken whisper, muffled by clammy hands. “It’s all I’ve got, that’s it, that’s all.”

“I know,” was the grave reply. Stable, damning. “I know, kid.”

The crash of grief broke through the numbness – forced its way right through to the center and dunked him under water. Trickled out through his cold sweat, through his tears, through his sobs. It hit harder than any punch to the gut, any knock to the head, any beating he’d ever taken – and he’d taken more than his fair share. It tore him apart from the inside out and set fire to the pieces.

Reality cut through like a knife. Left him bloody, stinging, torn. The weight of the world falling back into place on his fragile shoulders. “I miss her so much… So, so much.”

“You’re gonna get through this. I know you are.”

He was shaking his head again. There was no way – it was impossible. There was no way to get through this, no way to get past this. No way to keep going.

“... I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Hopper stood, eyes looking out over the rest of the police station. “Hey, in here!” He called out the slightly opened door, which quickly squeaked wide on rusted hinges.

“Harrington, buddy,” Eddie knelt down beside his chair, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Are you okay?”

Half hysterical, half broken, half ruined, Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulder so tightly it hurt. “She’s gone, Ed. She’s… She’s not coming back.”

“No,” was the soft reply, and Steve couldn’t tell who it came from through tear-blurred eyes and his own blood rushing in his ears. “No, she’s not coming back.”

And then he was being hugged. Held together by a set of tattooed arms that knew the loss as he did. Held afloat as the grief tried to drag him under again.

You weren't coming back. But he was still here. And that had to be enough.

“Hope you have an awesome rest of your day!”

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