#i hope you get to talk to them again soon!

[mggslover]

Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories. 

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed. 

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted. 

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.” 

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.” 

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid. 

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod. 

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head. 

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor. 

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?” 

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear. 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. As his best friend, you were the one he turned to, the one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could. 

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for. 

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island. 

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.” 

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was. “I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling good. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered, your tone icy.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling. “I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you said defensively, crossing your arms to shield yourself.

“Oh, so Hotch knew?” His tone turned bitter, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you reached out to him, but he instinctively stepped back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible, terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled shakily. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m someone who bothers people with my problems?” he asked, his voice raw with vulnerability.

“No!” you said quickly, the desperation clear in your tone. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, his exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.” He said, his tone filled with hurt. 

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. You bit your lip, trying to hold your words in.

“Please,” he whispered, his hand gently taking yours. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.” 

You stared at him, your chest aching. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with this truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat as he loosened his grip on your hand, making you regret speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?” He asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “I’m an awful friend,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs, hating to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His arms tightened around you, his hold warm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he reached out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, the warmth of his hand calming you. “You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.” 

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied, lifting your shoulders. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His eyes softened, his expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.” 

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently pulled you closer, the simple comfort of having you in his arms overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.” 

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch, not finding the words to express how you’re feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, but his eyes softened, filling with an emotion that made your chest ache. He nodded, “Yes. Please.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — urgent, raw, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat, conveying all the need you’d kept bottled up for so long. Spencer seemed to feel it, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

As you moved to the buttons of his shirt, Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. The moment your hands met his bare skin, his breath hitched, and his grip on your hips tightened. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and every inch of him seemed to respond to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him. 

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. The warmth of his touch had you gasping, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, consuming. One hand gripped your waist, holding himself steady, while the other hooked beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you closer. The heat between you is overwhelming, every touch igniting yet another spark. 

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours. 

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened. 

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of desperate whimpers from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper, determined to hit the spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

His low, breathy moans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you just as he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they can’t believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry 😣

I kinda made Tim’s as bit different than requested, but I couldn’t help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.

Dick

Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

‘What’s wrong my love, why the saddened face?’ He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.

‘Oh don’t worry yourself with…that thing dear Richard, they’re too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldn’t get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.’ One of them sneered and Dick’s jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.

‘Do you wanna leave?’ He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.

‘Yes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.’ You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dick’s face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.

‘If you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?’ He then leans close to them. ‘You don’t have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?’ He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldn’t help but smile back.

‘They are my everything. I couldn’t think about living without them, not when they’ve don’t nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I don’t deserve them but neither does this city, they’re an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as they’ll let me.’ You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.

‘So if you’ll excuse me kindly.’ Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.

‘I am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone else’s relationship.’ Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.

‘It’s okay Dickie bird, let’s just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.’ You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dick’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Can we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as you’d soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. ‘Of course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.’ You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.

Damian

Wishes Bruce didn’t confiscate the sword from him.

He’s the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.

He’s quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins don’t deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. ‘I don’t believe that my relationships are your concern,’ he begins, ‘you’re not kin and thus should’ve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.’

‘Wha-‘ they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.

‘Also I could hear you from across the room, didn’t your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?’ Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.

Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.

The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom he’s up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.

‘Enough, don’t hurt yourself trying to think with whatever’s behind those pompous eyes of yours.’ Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. ‘Let’s go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.’ He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.

‘Why’d you do that?’ You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Do what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?’ He says with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.

‘You’re right I’m sorry, I’m just being a little stupid.’ You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. ‘Do not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isn’t in due to money. Ours is genuine, if there’s anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.’ Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.

‘That’s not true.’ You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. ‘You’re perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and I’m happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.’ You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.

‘See, this is what I’m talking about.’ Damian says softly. ‘You are perfection, a being beyond words and I’d be a fool if I didn’t treasure you entirely.’

Jason

That’s it, you’re leaving.

Jason tried to be civil but it’s hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldn’t fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone else’s job.

He’s not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like ‘protect and serve’ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.

He’s marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he’s walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.

‘No… I want to go home.’ You admitted, their words cutting deeper than you’d ever think imaginable.

Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. ‘Then we’re going home.’ He says with certainty.

‘What about Bruce?’ You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.

Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasn’t going to let it slide in the slightest. ‘Fuck Bruce, you’re what matters to me.’ Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. ‘Now let’s ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?’

You chuckled. ‘Can we get some fries too.’

‘Of course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.’ Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.

Tim

Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.

Every scandal, every controversy, every crime they’ve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and he’s not afraid to use it.

And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.

‘I know what you did.’ He’d say.

‘What are you on about?’ They’d ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.

‘Friday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which you’ve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesn’t leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.

‘Only to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money you’ve initially lost.’ Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.

He’ll say or this or just say ‘they are after what they’re owed.’ And leave it at that.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. ‘Are you okay lovely?’ He asks you as he sees just how small you’ve made yourself because of them.

‘I’m fine Tim thanks to you.’ You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. ‘ I thought they wouldn’t shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.’ You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.

‘All you need to remember is that they’re more flawed and easier to expose, you however,’ Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, ‘are more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldn’t be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.’ He finished.

‘I’d choose you every time Tim.’ You replied.

‘Then expect me to do the same bedside there’s no one else I’d rather have them you.’ Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.

[willowpains]

can we please get a latina!actress and drew imagine where of how they got together or meeting his family??? I LOVED the first one sm!

meeting the fam

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

the parents

Drew’s parents were in Charleston for the weekend, visiting him at the set of the show for the last few shooting days before wrapping season one.

They had kindly invited you all out to dinner to finally meet Drew’s friends.

He was so excited you were finally meeting part of his family.

Everyone who knew Drew knew how much he loved and cared for them.

So getting to finally meet them was exciting and nerve wracking at the same time.

Madelyn, Chase, Rudy, Madison, JD, Austin and you had finally arrived at the restaurant, where Drew and his parents were already waiting for you all in a table near the back of the place.

A little Italian restaurant in downtown Charleston.

Was there a more perfect place than that?

The moment his parents saw you all approaching, they stood up embracing you all in tight hugs and lovely greetings, Drew standing on the side smiling widely.

You walked to his mom as you offered her a big smile.

“Hi, I’m…” you said looking at her excitedly.

She made a happy high pitch sound as she looked at you, pulling you in for a hug.

“You must be y/n!” she said giving you the biggest bear hug. “Oh my God, you’re so much beautiful in person” she said as she pulled back to look at you with bright eyes.

You blushed at her comment.

“You’re too nice…” you paused with a smile, not sure if you should address her by her name or if that would be too impersonal.

She smiles as she gives your arms a little warm squeeze.

“You can call me Jodi dear” she smiles at you as she hugs you one more time before letting you go.

You move on to greet his dad, Todd, introducing yourself as well, making little small talk as you all settle yourselves on the table ready to order.

The night goes on smoothly, filled with laughs and anecdotes of baby Drew, courtesy of his lovely parents.

You were all having too much fun hearing his embarrassing baby stories and juicy teenage drama.

As the dinner went on with chatter, pasta and wine, you couldn’t help but smile at how happy and at ease Drew looked around his parents.

It made your heart warm.

Before you all left after having spent a wonderful night together, you approached his parents to wish them a good night.

“It was lovely meeting you two” you say smiling up at them. “I had so much fun, and now I know where Drew got his sense of humor���.

Todd laughs at your comment as Jodi hugs you.

“It was so nice meeting you too dear” she says as she leans back smiling at you. “We hope you can visit us back home soon, you’re welcome anytime” she looks at you and then at the rest of your friends. “You’re all welcome”.

You blush at her words, feeling their love and affection.

“Thank you so much” you say smiling at her. “You’re more than welcome at home back in Mexico whenever you want” you smile sweetly at them as you eye Drew smirking from behind them.

Jodi hugs you one last time before letting you go.

“We might take you up on that offer” she says laughing looking at Todd.

Everyone bids their goodbyes before Drew approaches you as you all walk out of the restaurant.

“Your parents are amazing” You say as you give him a smile.

She shrugs cockily as he looks at you.

“What can I say?” He says smirking at you. “They did raise a pretty cool kid”.

You laugh at him as you hit him playfully.

“A pretty humble one” you say sarcastically with a smile.

He laughs softly, throwing his head back and looking at you again.

“They really loved you” he says, looking attentively at you. “All of you” he lets out, his gaze never leaving yours.

You blush at his words.

The night had gone as perfect as you’d imagined.

the siblings

This was not how you imagined your morning starting.

The night before had been quite successful, if you could call it that.

Madelyn and Drew had invited you all over to their place, for a typical drinking night at their place.

So you all had gathered there to drink and chat, as usual.

But things might have gone a bit overboard than usual.

You had a few free days from filming, so you all took that and rolled with it, not caring about anything besides having fun all together.

And that’s how, that morning, you woke up with a headache and no phone at your place.

You had no idea how you had gotten to your apartment and tucked yourself in bed. You tried to remember but your mind was hazy and blurry.

And as you tried to find your phone, it was nowhere to be seen.

That’s how you ended up going down in the elevator to Maddie’s and Drew’s floor.

You prayed your phone was somewhere in their place, cause if not, you’d be cooked.

On your way down, you cringed as you caught the reflection of yourself in the elevator mirror. This was not your best look.

Your hair was messy tied in a low bun, and you were wearing a big oversized t-shirt with the obx logo, and underneath, some very small sleeping shorts that were invisible under your big tee and sleepers.

Yeah, you were not beating the hungover allegations.

As the doors of the elevator opened, you walked to their apartment as you knocked on their door.

You closed your eyes as your head throbbed a little, you just wanted to find your phone, and go back up to your place to drink a gallon of water and maybe take some aspirin.

And then you thought, where they still hungover and asleep? You hadn’t even taken a second to wonder that maybe you would be waking them up.

In all honesty, you didn’t even know what time it was.

But just then, you heard footsteps coming from inside the apartment and the door being opened.

Revealing a man with an unknown but familiar face at the same time.

Were you at the wrong floor?

This was too much for you and your brain in this state.

You squinted your eyes a little as you looked at the man in front of you. You looked from him to the apartment number, wondering if you had messed up. As you opened your mouth to speak his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“Can I help…” his eyes went from squinting to surprised. “You’re y/n!” he said smiling at you, looking happy and surprised. “I’m Logan, Drew’s brother.

You blink while looking at him.

He was Drew’s brother.

Now you remember. He had said his siblings were coming to stay with him for a few days to spend the break with him.

Oh dear God. You had totally forgotten.

And now you were standing in the door, in front one of his siblings, in pijamas and hungover.

Worst first impression ever.

“Oh my god, hi!” You say, accidentally sounding a bit too excited than you intended. “It’s so nice to meet you” you smile, clearing your throat, feeling too embarrassed to think of something else to say.

He laughs softly at you, and before you can say anything else, another voice from behind echoes.

“Logan, who’s that?” A girl with brow hair pops up from behind him while looking at you.

You wished the earth could swallow you whole.

“Hi, I’m y/n” you say smiling anxiously at her.

Your appearance definitely was not giving you any confidence at the moment.

“Oh my God” she says smiling at you while shoving his brother aside. “You’re the y/n!” she says excitedly while approaching you. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long” she finishes as she pulls you for a hug. “I’m Brooke”.

The only thing you could do was return the hug while laughing nervously.

“Come in, we’re making breakfast” Logan says as he invites you in, closing the door behind you.

You really didn’t wanna be there in that moment.

Like, it was lovely meeting them, they seemed like the sweetest persons ever, but, you were feeling sticky, nauseous and embarrassed that they had to meet you like this.

Just your luck.

“Oh thank you so much, but…” you were interrupted as a girl with blonde hair walked out the kitchen.

She paused her steps looking at you.

“Mackayla, you’re not gonna believe this, she’s y/n!” Brooke said to her sister, as she side hugged you.

You smile at her softly while waving at her.

Her eyes brighten while she smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” she says excitedly. “Drew didn’t tell us you were coming, we would’ve cooked something better than pancakes” she smiles at you.

God how you wished you could’ve showered before coming down.

“No, please don’t worry!” you say a little too fast, looking at them, causing them to eye you with a confused look. “I really don’t wanna interrupt your breakfast” you say smiling at them embarrassed.

This was the worst situation ever.

Or that’s what you thought.

Because as you finished talking, Drew came walking down the hall, shirtless, with only some sleeping shorts and a towel on his hand while he dried his hair.

“What are you guys bickering about?” he says walking to his siblings before he stops and notices you.

You look at him while giving him an awkward smile.

His eyes open a bit too much in surprise.

“Hi” you mumble out sheepishly. “I just came by to see if I had left my phone here” you say blushing a little at the attention. “Cannot find it anywhere” you say moving your hands, showing them how they’re empty.

God you were being pathetic.

Was this how animals at the zoo felt?

“Uh yeah yeah” he blinks at you. “I was gonna bring it up to you later” he says walking to the couch, picking it up and handing it to you.

You take it from him while sighing in relief.

“Thank you so much” you say as you hug your phone dramatically. “I was panicking” you say laughing while looking at his siblings.

They all looked between you and Drew smiling.

You cleared your throat.

“I should get going now” you say smiling softly at them. “It was really nice meeting you” you say, feeling way embarrassed as each second passed.

Mackayla shaked her head looking at you.

“Please stay, we’d love for you to join us!” she says smiling at you hopeful.

“I really don’t wanna impose” you say giving them a sheepish smile, before Brooke shrugs and shakes her head.

“None of that! Maddie will join us too” she smiles at you.

Drew lets out a chuckle.

“If she wakes up” he says laughing softly.

In that moment, Maddie walks out of her room towards the bathroom, stopping herself to give Drew a humorless look.

“I am wake” she says before hiding herself in the bathroom.

You all burst into soft laughter before you can feel all their eyes on you once again.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Give me 5 minutes to shower and I’ll be down with a brand new box of cookies from home I have in my place” you say giving them a smile.

They all laugh while you’re already walking out the door.

“Deal!” Logan laughs as they all see the door close behind you.

You run up to you place, chugging an aspirin and getting into the shower to get yourself looking decent and to try and fix your first impression on Drew’s siblings.

Down at his place, they’re finishing setting the table and cooking breakfast.

“She’s cute” Mackayla says as she gives Drew a look.

He laughs softly under his breath looking at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, she can pull that hangover look, not everyone can, it’s hard” Logan lets out before Drew smacks him playfully in the head.

He groans while his sisters laugh at him.

“She seems funny too” Brooke says walking to them. “That’s a good quality to have you know” she lets out while looking at Drew.

He rolls his eyes at his siblings comments, trying to act nonchalant.

“Don’t be weird around her” he lets out, smiling at the memory of you at his apartment in your disheveled look.

How were you able to make the best impressions even having just woken up?

*

omggg I loved writing this request! thank you so much for sending it and liking my work, hope you love it<3

sorry for taking a bit to post it, I have been feeling a little off my game

please feel free to send in asks and requests if you wanna know anything about latina actress reader!

headcanons, blurbs, moodboards, social media posts, I’m open to anything!

[thetadispatcher]

Fern frowned slightly as he picked up on Rook's use of the word future. His LED spun yellow and red, but he made no move to question her as he felt it wasn't important and might just be an accident.

He instead took Willow's hand and allowed her to see his memories. The street sign as well as the house he allowed to be viewed first before showing more of experience with the human who repaired him.

He couldn't see much during that time thanks to the damaged that had been caused to his body, but he could hear thanks to the pair repairing his ears first. He could hear the human speaking to him in a soft, gentle tone as he explained to Fern what was being done to him, and reassuring him he'd be okay soon.

Eventually they managed to get his vision back, even if it was very limited and he could only see a rather zoomed in view of everything, but again he was reassured the issue would be fixed. The first thing he did was take in the room full of equipment meant to help repair androids, then he looked at the JB300 and took note of how odd he looked, not being one of the common appearances his model had. Next he looked to the human, he was turned away from him and working on one of the laptops.

Instantly Fern noted the man's teenage like appearance, memories of his teenaged attackers were quickly recalled. The feeling of them caving in his limbs with steel bats, the predatory grins on their faces as they surrounded him, and seeing his fellow WR600 being beaten till he shutdown with Fern feeling helpless as he could do nothing but watch the other androids LED go dark, signaling he was gone. But he was quickly drawn from his panic as he registered someone was holding his hand and talking to him, he focused on the voice and used it to escape from the memories replaying in front of his eyes.

"Fern, hey! You're alright, I promise, focus on me. I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe here." Fern met the young human's wide blue eyes, finding nothing but genuine concern and worry for him instead of the look he expected. Once the man was certain Fern was actually looking at him, the glint in his eyes shifted to relief and a kindness Fern had never seen a human look at him with before. "Glad to have you back, buddy. You're in good hands, I promise." His gaze shifted to where the man was holding his hand as he hooked his pinkie around Fern's and shook. Fern realized just how hard the human was working to show him he was in no danger and the last bit of fear he had metled away.

He let go of Willow's hand after that, cutting off the connection. "I hope that helps." He said as the skin of his hand returned. "I'm sure he can help out with whatever you need." He smiled a bit, showing the young man had made a positive impact on him as he clearly trusted him enough to send people and androids his way.

"And they just leave you there to die. What's wrong with the future and leaving machines on forever?" Rook held her hand up, "Don't answer. I'm glad you’re doing better."

Indeed, he knew how to read the room. Bishop silently took note of the information they were provided, in the remote chance Willow wouldn't be around to guide them to their destination in the next ten minutes.

He had a feeling the cyborg was already piecing together where to find this guy on her own.

"With how versatile androids seem to be, Cyberlife should own the world by now."

"They would be if the androids didn't keep deviating." Willow replied. She wasn't particularly eager to have a talk that way, but she reached a hand out so Fern could show her the information they wanted.

[starryjake]

thinking about toxic situationship!heeseung :(

you’re by far his favorite out of all the girls he fucks but he’s too cocky to let you know that. in the back of your mind, though, you know. you can’t imagine that he takes his other girls out for late night ramen or lets them sit on his lap and watch him play video games.

you can’t imagine he’s as gentle and sweet during aftercare with anyone else. in fact, you really hope he isn’t. you hope he kicks out all the other girls he sleeps with as soon as he’s done with them. you hope that he doesn’t let them spend the night like he does with you, even going as far as to make you breakfast or take you out the next day.

every time he’s with another girl, he can’t stop thinking about fucking annoying they are and can’t help himself from comparing them to you. he knows you would be so much better: better at sucking his dick, better at riding him, just your pussy in general was better.

he’d text you when he was hanging out with other girls, not even waiting for them to leave the room but doing it right next to them. he didn’t care if they could see, even when he was texting you about how bad they were and how he wished he were with you instead.

heeseung: this blows

y/n: whys that?

heeseung: bc she isn’t you baby

y/n: you could always leave and come over :)

heeseung: aww my girl wants me to ditch this chick and come fuck her instead? is that what you want, little princess?

y/n: fuck hee…please :(

he could not say no to you. 10 minutes later and he’s ditched the random girl he was with and was instead pounding you into your mattress, grunting loudly as you clenched around him.

“fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned, hips drilling into you. “you’re such a good girl. so much fucking better than anyone else.”

and you took it so well, eating up every last word.

he also loved that you didn’t talk to any other guys. you just wanted him and only him so, so badly, and maybe if he did relationships, he would choose you to be his girlfriend. but, he didn’t date and he made sure you were aware of that from the start your situationship. but the point was, he loved that you were still loyal to him, not even wanting to talk to another guy because they just weren’t heeseung. no one did it like him.

no one ate you out until you were squirting everywhere and shaking like he did. no one fucked you until your eyes were rolling into the back of your head and drooling onto his sheets like he did. no one made you feel like passing out from intense pleasure like heeseung.

you liked him. you were probably in love with him. you hated knowing he saw other girls and he loved knowing it made you upset. he loved knowing that you liked him enough to get so jealous of other girls.

again, he would never tell you that he couldn’t give less of a shit about the other girls. in fact, he would purposely use them just to make you jealous, fucking them for the sole reason of knowing you would hate it. your jealousy was what got him off because it showed that you cared about him, that you wanted him all to yourself.

he thought about you every time he thrusted his cock inside another girl’s pussy. he thought about how much tighter you were than them. how much warmer, wetter, and more delicious you were.

heeseung liked you a lot too. he was also probably in love with you and he realized that when he was finishing on the tits of someone else and moaned out your name instead of theirs.

-

like sorry i just needed to get this off my chest bc heeseung is FUCKING WITH ME TODAY!!

anyway how are y’all? :3

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[thankskenpenders]

IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

[puckinghischier]

quinn fucking ur face to shut u up after the game

WHATTTTTTT

“yeah? got something to say now, huh?” quinn spits down at you, watching his cock slide in and out of your mouth through the swell and deflation of your cheeks.

you tried to respond, but all that came out was a strangled gargle, the sensation of your throat closing around his tip only spurring him on further.

“knew i was gonna have to find some way to shut you up as soon as i walked in the door. so many questions, so many opinions on the game tonight,” he grunts, gripping the back of your head and pushing it forward to meet his thrusts. “think this is a much better use of your mouth, personally. you agree, pretty girl?”

your wide, tear rimmed eyes look up at him. he watched the moisture stream down your already stained cheeks, bringing a thumb up to wipe the drops away. you try to nod, but his firm grip on your head stops you. he notices the slight movement of your fingers between your legs, shocked to see the drip of your arousal onto the floor beneath you as your fingers toy with your swollen clit. you were wearing one of his t-shirts with nothing on underneath, he assumed a surprise for him when he returned home from the disaster of a game.

he cocks an eyebrow, bringing his gaze back to your face. “you like this, huh? like me filling your mouth so full you can’t get a word out otherwise?” his thrusts get sloppier, harsher.

you whine around him, trying to keep your breath steady and even. his words cause your fingers to circle faster against yourself, thinking about how inadequate they are in comparison to his thick digits.

“well, as much as i love to see you get off to me fucking your throat raw, i never said you could touch yourself, did i?” he tsks, watching your eyes widen even more, your hand never leaving your cunt.

you sputter and struggle to convey your apology. the vibrations mixed with the constriction around his cock while you gag slightly has him shooting his release down your throat, no warning other than a sharp tug of your hair.

you lap up every drop he has to offer you, whining at the feel of your now empty mouth as he pulls back, drool mixed with his come dripping from your open mouth.

“quinn, m’sorry, was just so wet, needed something. i-“

“shhh, never said you could talk yet, did i?” quinn interrupts your hoarse plea while caressing your swollen lips with his thumb. he watches your mouth snap shut, both hands now resting on your bare thighs. he bends down to be eye level with you, reaching a hand out to collect some of your juice on his fingers, teasing you with a quick circle of your clit.

you shudder, a strangled moan leaving your spent throat as he smirks at you, not realizing how sensitive you were. “please,” you beg him, trying to rock yourself back and forth across his fingers.

he jerks his hand back, looking at the sticky coating on his fingers. “oh, sweet girl, you really did enjoy that didn’t you?” he brings his fingers to his mouth, cleaning your sweet taste off of them with a moan of delight. “god, you taste so good. swear, there’s nothing better than your flavor.”

your chest fills with hope, hope that since he’s had a taste he’ll want more. and more and more and more.

that hope is deflated, though, when he stands, towering above you once again.

“too bad you broke the rules, and i can’t have my favorite treat after such a bad game. cruel of you, really,” is all he tells you, trailng a finger down your still wet cheeks before he turns and walks away from you.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

[azlovesem]

I dont knpwcwhat one is. This .22 under my chin and sqeeze and im gone from this dhittybworld i fiucking hare. May you all contract fucon sids and die for xmas. I hope an asteroid hits this earth and kills every fuckn single ladt one of you or somehow you all contract aids for xmas. Nobody wants me to have any ending ket alone a hspoy one. Mybryes are turing black. Im gonna hate you all soon. Then there is no forgoveness for snyone if you fo tnoer me see her. Ill mske xmas a living hell this year gor some. Surrender i ssid its the inly wey thete is no other way. Ivwant yo see her imor we kill her mom n dad we will get her. It has to be done your daughter comes or dues pick one. Fuck you i dont jnow you fuckn asshole lawyers i jnow youre kind i dont mean nice. Mist kawyers i wanna boit them in the face. But not sll and its not likd we can live eothout sny law of lawyers. Just trying everything ip nicely is what you do. This isnt a case ill talk to your dsughteer sge has no choice now. Or no one dies ever again soon. My troops need my head clear. It might mean removing her prwtry one. Ivd had enoughh of ganes i obviously ein and i live her. Nit in a cheap chimp chimp ass way like sny other monkey. Well i want her to clear thongs up heraelf utll be goof for her. Or youll be cleaning her up off the fuckn ground.

Oh, I just love happy endings.

[srslylini]

okay in all honesty Sevika's character is so interesting and one of the things I loved the most about season 2 is watching her.

We see her character as soon as act 1 in season 1 and we also know that she used to be loyal to Vander, but because she is a character who rightfully wants to fight she sees Vander as someone who she can't continue to be loyal to

"Vander had his chance"

she hands the people she follows/gives her loyalty to chances. We see it time and time again with Silco. We see her loyalty waver but we also see it strengthen. She is extremely smart and cunning. She knew immediately what kind of powerplay Finn wanted to start and played along with it, so he wouldn't catch on (letting him light her cigar, dusting of his place before he sits down during that scene with Silco where Finn then gets killed)

But she also made a display infront of Silco to show him her patience is running thin. One of the reasons she went along with Finn is to show Silco that, while Finn isn't the one, there is always others. This also shows how damn respected she actually is, like lets imagine basically any other character having such a severe power play with Silco, she knew that he knew that there was a possibility she could kill him.

Her patience for Silco is also mostly running thin because of Jinx. Not because she genuinely just hates Jinx but more so because Jinx is in fact a disaster (sorry sorry) and DOES get in between her missions. And well Silco basically shrugs and goes your fault have fun cleaning that mess up. If we go and only take season 1 it's actually easy to think that Sevika really dislikes Jinx but with context from season 2 I just don't think that was the case and it was moreso frustration.

and now Silco is dead and she has placed her hope in him and his nation of Zaun. That talk with Jinx in season 2 is genuinely one of the best, if not the best, scenes out of that season. Her and Jinx begrudgingly get closer. She is still loyal to Zaun and well they don't give up their people and Jinx is one of them.

As early as act one she is shown to literally be ready to jump to death if necessary to be of use and like??? they utilized her character perfectly in season 2 before they decided to write her out of act 2 for what ever reason (still salty about that)

Their little found family coming because Sevika is admirably loyal and extremely smart but also just unwilling to relent to anyone and still always the fighter is the best the writers could have done.

edit: lol dumb thing to forget, genuinely I'm tired but the continuity of her gambling addiction and it also being a thing Jinx and her bond over in season 2 because Jinx gifted her a gambling arm was genuinely peak writing. Also there is something to be said how she also gambles with the lives of others (Silco in that scene, cause he HAD no idea if he would survive "where you tempted" "not for a worm like him but there will be others" like OKAY DAMN) and how she ALSO uses her own experiences to guide others, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much.

just in general, I appreciate her character so much and I hope they don't disappoint in act 3

[court-jobi]

hi! i love your works so much!!! i was wondering if i could request a hawks x pop princess f! reader?

like he does security for her groups concert and hes like “pffft im number 2 why do i need to be here”. then he watches her during sound check and is like okay i need to know more about her. so while shes getting ready hes just hovering backstage trying to talk to her. after the show she finally gives him her number (def against her companies wishes) and hes like trying to be suave and flirty and shes like “oh my god why is this working”. just a lot of hawks being a lover boy and sending gifts to her company anonymously and cutesy stuff like that lol. they have to keep their relationship a secret bc her company has a very strict no dating unless we agree rule. can be pre or post war hawks btw! you can take this wherever you want with it as well! can be nsfw or not.

im sorry that was so long! i was trying to make sure my thoughts were coherent lol.

Ooooo I love this idea so much, what a lovely dynamic to picture: a fanboy Hawks for a change, perhaps?? ~ this was a fun one to work on! @strwbrrykthv i sure hope this one was worth the wait and that I've done it justice!

You all are seriously the best readers a gal could ask for, and these requests are ✨giving me life✨~ Keep 'em coming!!

Who Has the Mic

Words: 4.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: Pro Hero!Hawks x popstar fem!reader, forbidden romance, flirting, mostly FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical threats, protective instincts, Hawks is a little shitTM, we love him your honor

for my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Hawks falls prey to a special thrill out of extending favors to others. 

‘I owe ya one’-- such a simple nicety that in the beginning, he doubts anyone would truly come to collect on it. It makes him sound agreeable, charming, starved for connection even before the height of his inevitable fame. 

Then he rose and rose in the hero rankings, securing himself into the very visible and wildly popular top spot, in terms of viewer popularity. 

It’s now that the redemptions of Hawks’ pro-hero favors have come rolling in… The unexpected keeps him on his toes and entertains him for the most part; and if it’s all for the sake of protecting others, then why not have a little fun with it? 

Once upon an overbearing press conference, back when he was first tiptoeing into the public scene… Hawks begged a makeup artist on staff for a spot to hide out in the green room and sneak a snack or two (or ten). He was granted pity for a teenager expected to take a seat at the table of an albeit boring Commission presentation. Well, it seems that particular makeup-artist rose within the talent realm themselves, and ended up reaching out to “that flyboy kid” back for a surprising accommodation: 

Top tier talent warrants top tier security.

Hawks takes a call at his agency and soon finds himself ushered in for the Tokyo opener of the reigning top-of-the-charts pop star with a voice of gold. The first meeting of old acquaintances led the Pro-Hero to tour the brand new, sky-high facilities, then return for the load-in day of the stage. Again for first dress, and each night of the week-long residency.

He carries his presence on the stealthier side, far above the stage floor in the scaffolding. Up here, lights are rigged with steel supports running every which way, where he executes perfect balance while walking in a straight line atop them. He’s checked -double and triple- that each outlet is free from hazard, each line of multi-ton equipment has been secured and safe, so that even his ‘adventuring’ from up high is not a risk.

He’s happy for the variety of work he faces as a hero- but right now, he’s bored. He shouldn't be feeling so dreadful, especially on the job, but he is. It’s not his style to be so down, after all. But Hawks has checked into every nook and cranny of this place and for the sake of an understandably hypervigilant security team, has an eye for which points of entry and exit could use a bird’s eye view come showtime.

His muscles are used to far more fast-paced antics and time-sensitive chases; not traipsing around like a literal vulture ready to swoop in at any moment. Surely he’s needed elsewhere.

But the threats have been rolling in… as they do for all of these larger-than-life musician types who found their way into the spotlight. They’re at risk of going in blind if they don’t have a good team around them to help them see.

So here he is, playing guardian angel to do his part and make sure all goes smoothly. It's a big operation by his count; there’s sixty members on the tech roster, plus the venue stage manager and their contracted staff, then all performers, and of course the headliner. Now where she is, he’d like to know– for not so selfless reasons.

He’d know her music by heart, given how much of an earworm and personal anthem her songs have become for him. It’s rare that the tables are turned, where Hawks is the fanboy and someone else is the idol. That dream is his dangling carrot for completing this mission successfully: he has the most sought-after bodyguard duty in the nation, and as good as a front row seat to her show.

Yet in a weird sense, Hawks also kinda hopes he never meets her. Doesn’t want to crush that bubble, ruin the allusion of the woman he’s got set as his ringtone.

So, he just runs his headcounts on all bodies supposed to be present at the top-of-show meeting to busy his mind. All is in order. ‘Cues’ are rounding up the pre-show acts, each in plainclothes for this rough stumble-through. Still doesn’t see the little starlet yet, and he gets the residual feeling that this might be typical behavior of ‘the talent’ to show up whenever she damn well pleases. 

Though funnily enough, he spots a pretty thing down there sporting some Hawks merch! Always nice to see a supportive fan in the most unlikely places… 

It's a well-fitting quarterzip sporting his red feather blades down each arm, an item he vaguely recognizes from this season’s newest launch. She’s got headphones on and subtly bopping about in her own little world, perhaps running through tonight’s set under her breath, if her self-contained taps of the fingers are an indication of her keeping beat. 

Hawks’ curious attention to that girl on the fringes of the stage is pulled when he hears the strict timbre of the stage director he’d met on day one take center stage.

“Ok, time to rein it in. As we covered in the email from Sec-Eng- which I’m assuming you gen-z’ers have read,” the bossman snarks to the younger members of this crew down below, “we’ve got some additional eyes in the sky pulling security for this leg in the tour. So, I want to give you all a chance to get your excitement out -along with your thanks- to our equally chart-topping hero, Hawks~ who’s… somewhere around here.”

Hoodie girl blanched– as if she’d been told she’d need to share her internet history to her grandmother. Immediately, she tosses off her headset and starts frantically stripping herself of the jacket she wore. While enthusiastic heads all fly around in every direction in search of the hero, Hawks chuckles at the sight of her alone. 

“...//Well, he’s probably checking the perimeters anyway//. How bout we all just send a big thank-you, eh?”

The couple of ‘Hoodie’s fellow dancers were poking fun at her -poor thing still flushed and clammed up- while the group gave a loud, singsongy ‘thank you!!’ up to the stage doors, assuming the Pro-Hero might be busting in, grand entrance fashion on command. The love-laden response from the dancers makes Hawks roll his eyes lightly, but he appreciates their praise all the same.

They giggle about in jazzed excitement with one’s voice carried out squealish and feminine, despite their professional assembly,

“Oh my god, you must be in HEAVEN!! He’s gonna be watching you ALL NIGHT!”

‘Hoodie’ looks downright mortified. The others have seemed to gather around spouting nothing but encouragement to this little fan girl who's doing her best to put on a poker face. Adorable. 

“Now we also need to make some edits before the crew breaks for lunch, everyone, so we are gonna start today with opening of Set 5 instead- hold.. Hold on… WHO HAS THE GOD MIC??”

The mics table scrambles for the one handheld microphone with omniscient audio range to the house. Surely it's the one thing they wouldn't lose and should hand straight to the Stage Manager, right? 

Well, said mic was sitting unattended there on the cart earlier… all for the Winged Hero’s taking when he was making his preliminary sweep earlier. 

From his inner jacket pocket, Hawks catches his lip in his teeth as he remembers where to turn the thing on. Once his throat cleared and the mic blinks red in sync with the soundboard, he amplifies a little trademark bird whistle: for each and every soul in sight to hear. 

The stage erupts in excitement, as planned. ‘Hoodie’ immediately teeters over to one of the props hideaways and stows said jacket away. 

Hawks chuckles with the mic at chest level– only to call her out from his perch,

“Saw that, dear~”

Seems logic caught up with the poor thing, as she -finally- pieced together the true vantage point of her idol’s presence, and looked up. 

Sparing her too much embarrassment, Hawks simply cocked his head on a folded up fist and gave a little wave of some fingers to her. 

Despite her clear shock and surprise, she did smile brilliantly back and gave a little signed ‘thank you for being here’ rather than a scream like all the others.

The stage manager followed her line of sight to where the hero stands in wait, ready to dismount and return his bit of cheekily stolen equipment. Despite some bewildered aggravation to Hawks’ antics, he gestures with the exhaustion of a high school teacher.

“There now, see kids? That's how you protect your voices before a show!! Better than belting your way to the doctor’s office. Our star here sure leads by example now doesn't she–” 

In rare form for the hero, it's Hawks’ turn to be stunned. His fangirl: it’s you.

Everyone else may be calling that first call time your lucky day… but you were intimidated to the point of feeling ill. Thank goodness for your poker face; because locking eyes with Hawks’ stunning crimson canopy and giving you that wink and a grin about sent you into a heart attack. 

You're starstruck. The absolute heartthrob of an idol you revere as your favorite Pro-Hero has been standing over 150 meters above your head, watching for every sign of danger that could threaten you for the last week. 

That near guarantee of safety would trump your fleeting nerves– if you hadn’t given the first impression of a closeted fangirl like you did!!

Nothing short of awe crossed your mind when you so much as think of the hero. A very vocal fan whenever he came up in the news or your social feed amongst your inner circle. Hawks is a household name for you, who you were incredibly fond of… both in how he handled massive crowds or charmed in intimate, one-on-one interviews. 

You know the role; you suck up for cameras, too, as it's all in the optics. But for every PR-guided response you know is crafted by easy-going smiles or a disarming tone, you remember to see past the spectacle of Hawks and look for ‘him’. Remove the wings and hero getup: who is he? Can you spot the tells on camera like your mom can when she watches you? No matter how big of a global phenomenon her baby girl gets, she can still tell when you have a headache while having to give an appearance on a talk show. 

The man you spot on screen has to have a series of faults and slips. Even battle-ready heroes put their shoes on one at a time– just like everyone else. He’s sure to have a favorite lunch spot, a favorite pen to use for autographs, a favorite singer, even… 

Surely not you, but a girl can dream.

There’s a glazed-over glint in Hawks’ eyes when he very subtly checks out when being spoken to which gives you the strong suspicion you two may not be so unalike. And that list of little mannerisms has grown exponentially– with every day that's passed:

Hawks has difficulty staying still, you've learned. He’s also much younger than people assume. Carries a crafty habit of popping up unexpectedly in a way that’s youthful– and borderline cheeky. From atop a stack of amps, to a crowdless green room, to the rigging of lights where you've stunned the crowds for the last four nights, he’s perched out of sight from your thousands of fans. 

Though each little comment thrown here and there in praise has floated down to your ears in sweet jest, things come to a head when the last night of your show arrived: where the crushing realization sought to dampen your mood. 

After tonight, you wouldn’t have your angelic, crimson-winged shadow anymore. 

But Hawks surprises you once again. 

You nearly miss it, too, once your final round of ‘surprise songs’ is revealed and you are snuck down to your assigned hideout to get ready to leave the venue. It’s back in your can-lit dressing room that you’re making double takes down the hall looking for any sign of your security team; especially the one to whom you owe a hefty ‘thank you’ to for all his efforts.

-but as your half-redressed form has donned your beloved Hawks hoodie once more, you’re not so spooked to hear a familiar whistle from behind you this time.

Headphones slung back down around his neck and wings slimmed down to a more presentable manner for tight hallways like these, Hawks slips into your prep space with a speedy uptick of steps. A knowing whisper to ‘shut the door fast so no one notices’ eeks out of him, eliciting a smile from you.

Each one of your suspicions are confirmed with that one comment alone; he knows this game well. Still, playing along with his dance of keep-away from any prying eyes (or cameras) doesn’t mean your heart isn’t  hammering away in your chest at the knowledge of getting your hero all to yourself.

So here, Hawks traipses around your makeshift room with unbidden interest– which, for such a small space, is cute to know how many little details pique his curiosity. Your various outfits still hang all facing the correct way, your personal backpack sits beside it on the end featuring your mess of pins and collected patches from the locations you’ve toured thus far. The run schedule is still taped on the wall, and below it, your laptop has your notation software open and idle onscreen.

“Well, now,” Hawks chimes in with a little crouch over the back of your empty chair, “Surely I’m not looking at our next chart-topping hit in the making, am I?”

“Maybe!” you chuckle, joining his side to quickly save your work before you forget. “It’s getting the lyrics and melody to marry right that’s the hard part. Working out the latter right now, and it’s kinda kicking my butt.”

“But you’re doing it! Look at all this– wait. Is this what you were dancing to earlier?”

Damn his powers of observation. You’d been testing out the rhythm of the hook this week– when you’d been caught under his attention.

“...M-maybe?” you hedge again.

“I knew it-” Hawks beamed, “A stunning starlet and a mastermind. What can’t you do?”

Flattered beyond belief, you answer honestly, 

“Keep myself outta trouble with my managers. Trying to, at least,” you close the laptop to conserve its power, “but between the shows and speaking engagements, it’s left me a bit starved for time to actually make the music.”

“N’why would writing get you in trouble?”

“It takes me away from all the other things I ‘have to do’,” you sigh easily. “They can bring in anyone to make the music and keep pitching songwriting teams to me to take the load off. Just think something’s gotten a little out of balance.”

Without meaning to, you held Hawks’ attention– enough to make him sit back on the armrest of your couch and listen with undivided attention while you explained your creative process more. While most J-Pop performers would be thrilled to have outside writers create the work and easy into a performance schedule with pre-set work to learn, you loved to have a hand in the writing process too. As an art form, it’s personal when you have to perform season after season. 

You’ve chatted quite a bit here and there over these last several days, though not this extensively. He was interested in so much about this whole operation, to the point where you wondered if he’d ever met any of the performers who you knew presented at some of those hero galas he went to. Apparently not, by the way he’d lock onto your every word when you spoke. Either your timekeepers (or his) would inevitably interrupt you, so back to work you two would fly off to.. though you’d seem to circle back to one another and chat about anything and everything if given the chance- little spurts of talk that always left you wanting more.

He’d commiserate with you on that front as well– the balance of stardom and freedom. Bogged down by meetings and public appearances wore on him just as much as you. With every roadblock you described about your recent album development, Hawks nodded along with expected understanding. 

The revolving issue of personal safety might have brought him into your employ, but you know more and more cases like yours filled up his day-to-day life in ways you couldn’t imagine… but he even shed some light on that as well to you. He’d burst the bubble on hero work as an industry through little asides with you offstage: comments he’d likely get reprimanded for if he ever spoke them in a public statement. 

But you’d keep his secrets safe. What happens on set stays on set.

So even now, as he’s tucked himself into your dressing room while you puttered around chatting about your true dreams of getting a new concept album wrapped by the end of the year, Hawks tuned in with genuine interest that only made your heart skip a beat for him more.

“I haven’t always gotten the time to work on it lately… though this week, I’ve had a clearer head to be in here rather than under lock and key with a security force breathing down my neck– which is largely thanks to you, Mr. Hawks.”

“Oh please,” Hawks scrunches his nose and teases, “Mr. Hawks is what the lawyers call me. Just Hawks is fine!”

You exhale, squishing back any girlish outburst from your voice at how fussy he looked. 

“All the same, thank you for your help this week,” you pressed, “It’s -uhm- not often I get to meet my favorite Pro Hero on the job…”

A pleased smirk lifts Hawks’ cheeks, though you spot a funny kind of shyness in them when he studies your sleeve rather than look you in the eye-

“Favorite, huh?” Hawks smiles, “ n’here I thought I was the lucky one, sweet’eart-” he taps his headphones for emphasis, “One day I’m listening to you on repeat on my morning commute– and the next, I’m standing two feet from you!”

“--You’re kidding.”

From his pocketed phone, Hawks challenges you with a press and hold on the speakers to boost the volume as high as it could go. Faintly, you caught your own pop vocals from your second ever album casting from Hawks’ headphones. 

You can’t believe your luck– he’s really a fan? Of yours?

The mix of sentimentality and surprise must be palpable on your face as you grasp exactly which song has Hawks spellbound before he cocks his head with a sheepish grin of his own, 

“Believe me now?”

Words fail you, but you shudder out a little giggle that speaks volumes. He tests with a smile,

“Soooo guess you wouldn’t mind if I asked a horribly stereotypical favor and snagged a selfie while I’m here?” 

Eyebrows shot up to the sky as Hawks dangled his phone between you, you immediately pause. No one on your Communications team is still backstage (to your knowledge), but the engrained warning about checking your professional list of partnerships before posting comes to mind… annoying as it is. All you want is a pic with him, too!

“Nothing for socials-” Hawks assures you with a gloved hand, “If your handlers are just as pesky as mine, they’d never let me live it down. Just– something to keep me grounded, on the hard days.”

That reasoning… it almost broke your heart just as quickly as your potential disappointment had been earlier. 

With a knowing smile, you nodded sweetly to Hawks- he’s charming in a whole new light to you.

“Only if you send it to me too, hm? Favor for a favor?”

“ ‘Course!”

Sliding up into his open space, Hawks clearly knows his best side but keeps you right in the center of his shot. That smile he makes… you are going to keep this proud glint in his eye and sight of his hand around you locked into your mind forever– even if he forgets to send it to your insta handle after this. 

It’s too brief of a moment, watching his wing curl around you though the phone’s front-facing camera burgeoning you close, head tilting gently against yours. Keeping a close-lipped smile seared into your mind when you think of him now.

Then in an even more lightning fast moment, while he’s fussing with a weird flip of his bangs, you reach to tap the shutter as you sneak a kiss onto his cheek. 

He’s stunned by the move, but by the even brighter muted smile, you stand by with pride double checking his photo gallery that the shot made it. It surely did. 

“You have a hard job, Hawks; harder and more dangerous than anyone I know,” 

You step away casually.. Though the need for distance is more for your sake than just optics of your forwardness. 

“... Thought you deserved more than one lil selfie. Hope that’s ok?”

“H-okay?” Hawks breathes out, studying his camera roll with reverence, “Better’n ok..”

Outside a muted feedback from the PA system is calling for Exit team to assemble– get staged for your departure from the venue at last.

“That’s me. Better bounce-” Hawks piped up after a small clearing of his throat. You’re nearly too shy to look at him after this-

-but when a kiss greets your hand, lifted imperceptibly fast and squeezed just as fleeting as his words grace your ears- you couldn’t look away if you tried.

“- a pleasure, dear.”

And before you can utter any further word of thanks or manage something other than a shocked smile, Hawks slips out of the room and off to hand the reins back to your team. You can barely hear from the still-live walkie talkies that your security detail is back at their regular stations, and your Pro-Hero is off for his final step of his hired work. Soon he’d be relieved of his station and off to save someone else from an unsavory fate.

He doesn’t forget to send you the photos; and you now have his private insta handle.

The photo where you snuck a peck onto his cheek would be set as your internal screenshot if it weren’t for your niece’s constant borrowing of your phone when she visits you on set… 

But now, you’re back for a month-long stay at the studio– your reward for a successful first half of the Tour.

Encouraged by your protective muse’s spark at the thought of your new music, you decide to take that energy back to Chichibu. Your headphones might as well be glued to your head, with how much you’ve head-dived into your sound mixing apps and sampling library. In fact, it’s that unwavering attention to your music that you nearly miss the most obvious sight walking through the lobby of the unassuming recording studio. Almost.

But how could you really– when the largest floral arrangement you’d ever seen is gracing the reception table? That stunning piece looks like it costs more than the linoleum flooring the desk sits on. 

A few aides have been distracted by the sight, studying the typed message attached and racking their brains for any sign of a calling card. One of your cutting room techs was currently rounding the base of the standing arrangement for some tucked note, which made you giggle how intently she was studying the thing. 

You know the sound booth manager best out of this group of other visiting accompanists,

“Lucky, lucky girl~” she reels you in excitedly, plucking the card from the other’s sights and handing to you directly. “Sorry to say there’s no hint who it’s from… but it’s for you, little bird!”

You hedge at the pet name once again– the nickname stuck unwillingly not only for your melodic talent, but the association with your clear celebrity (heroic) crush. 

However, as you read the note, the immediate assumption that this may have been another gift from a venue host was thrown right out the window…

This was a personal gift:

To keep my genius company while she makes her magic~ No one can give us the stories you can; don’t ever  let them take your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. Can’t wait to hear the new demo!

“No matter how high or low I am.. a piece of me will be here with you. It’s- where I'd rather be... Till next time…”

“Next time? Wait, who sent these again?!”

“It was just the delivery guy, from that really flouncy place downtown~” the receptionist answers with interest.

“Nooo, I mean on the card! Who signed the card?

“There's nothing– no initials, nothing..” you confirmed, still reeling over the message. But as you trail off over the cascade of tropical flowers, the flecks of red blooms catch your eye and bring you to study harder. 

Then- tucked under some deep green curls- a spot of red hides. A quill amongst the mossy padding of the arrangement- not unlike a surprise found in a nest.

Sifting through under the guise of feeling tender petals, you grasp the soft, downy feather which bears a small post-it flag on the underside with a sequence of numbers on it. 

“Do you have any idea who?”

Balling it carefully in your fist just as quickly, you answer, “Couldn't tell ya. But the pop of red sure is pretty, isn't it?”

In your booth -set up with your sticker-laden laptop and butterflies in your stomach- you hold the sticky note in one hand, pinching the crimson feather precariously in the other. 

Face warmed and unbelieving of your luck, you think on what to send first to your mic-stealer…

To be continued?

[typicalopposite]

WIP Wednesday

thank you thank you @bidisasterevankinard for the tag! 🫶🫶🫶

take me back - Tommy amnesia fic - from ch 3

Evan: Hey! Hope you have a great first day back! Be safe! 🙂

Tommy’s heart skips a beat… he said– he said their thing… Be safe / Of course. Like Bobby and Athena’s Home Safe, or Howie and Maddie’s Miss you already / Miss you most or Han and Leias I love you / I know. It floods his brain with memories of what feels like just last week; him telling Evan the same thing when he called to let Tommy know they were going on a pretty serious call. It stabs him in the chest, and tears sting at his eyes that he quickly blinks away because, no… Evan is allowing him a friendship when he doesn’t deserve one. He will not screw it up this early in because he has a giant sack of unresolved emotional baggage that he filled himself. He replies: I will be he hits send, reels at the sting of making it different, then he sends and thank you :) to balance it out.

The messages are instantly read, and Tommy waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else. He doesn’t, so Tommy grabs his keys and heads out the door to his truck. The engine roars to life and he turns his music up loud enough to make his ears hurt— from the volume and the fact every song reminds him of Evan— as he drives the miles to Harbor Station. 

He is actually pretty surprised at the effort his team put into their welcome back, complete with a banner and cake. (If Tommy is being honest he is just about cake’d out from his birthday… but he appreciates the gesture… Especially if— unless they changed a lot in the span of last year to now— this isn’t usual for the 217. This is more of the 118’s style of celebration. He’ll take it.) “Thanks everybody,” he says humbly. 

“Good to have you back,” his captain says, shakes his hand then excuses himself to his office. 

He is approached one by one by his other coworkers ending with Lucy. She grins widely at him, and throws her arms around his neck; a gesture he was used to from her… but things are supposedly different between them now, so it’s an unexpected surprise.  

“How’re you feeling?” she asks. Her– usually sharp, ready to give as much sass and shit as she receives among a crew of mostly men– eyes are soft and sincere. 

“Better… I– I guess,” Tommy replies. “Doc said as long as I don’t crack it open again, staples can come out next week.”

“You still don’t know how that happened?” 

Tommy pulls his lips down into a frown and shakes his head. “That garage is a mess… Evan is always– or… was always–” he stops and sighs, running a hand over the back of his neck, wondering if one day talking about Evan will stop hurting. He doubts it’ll be anytime soon. “He always said I needed to organize my stuff better– guess I should have listened.” 

She gives him a sympathetic smile, hooking an arm around his arm and leading him through the hangar. “Well at least you have plenty of paperwork to keep your mind off of… everything, until you’re cleared to get back in the sky!” 

“Oh, great…” He groans at the piles of unorganized files left for him to keep busy while he is on temporary light duty, and drops into his chair to get started. 

Or rather try to get started… except everything reminds him of Evan– of the accident– of what he lost— of how miserable he is. 

Calls where their stations worked together. Calls with people named Evan, or Tommy, or even worse Dylan. Calls involving head injuries, and memory loss, and extreme depression, and anxiety– a call involving a person giving a statement so filled with regret and despair Tommy has to stop what he’s doing and walk outside for some air. 

“You okay?” Lucy asks, sticking her head out of the helicopter she is running a safety check on. 

“Fine…” Tommy lies, still unable to suck in a deep enough breath that it will stop feeling like he’s being suffocated. 

Lucy sighs and turns the helicopter off. She hops down and walks over to him, face determined. “Seriously, Kinard… I’m not saying you have to be an open book; hell you never were, even before— But don’t start shutting everyone out again. We’re a team and if you’re going through it and your mind is not clear it’s not safe– you could get hurt… again. So we’re not going back there, okay?” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to hers and nods. 

Lucy calls out for Melvin to finish the inspection and she tips her head towards the side of the hangar. They walk down alongside the metal wall towards the water’s edge. She picks up a rock and flicks it out onto the water; it skips three times before dipping under the surface. She glances over at Tommy, giving him the floor to start the conversation. Tommy doesn’t speak and instead repeats her action– picks up a rock and skips it across the lake. Seven skips before it disappears and Lucy scoffs, calling him a show off. 

“I don’t know why I broke up with him…” is Tommy’s reply. 

Lucy stares at him for a second, like she’s trying to formulate a response. “I– I mean… I’m sure once the amnesia–”

“It’s not because of the amnesia, Luce…” Tommy interjects. “I–” He exhales, long and deep. “I don’t know why I broke up with him because I don’t want to break up with him.” She furrows her brows and he continues before she can speak. “Lucy I woke up thinking it was our anniversary. Just a few days before I dumped him, for– for the stupidest reason!”

“Wait, you know the reason?”

“Ye– Yeah. Evan told me.”

“You spoke to Evan?!”

Tommy sighs. “That’s not the point. The point is that I don’t— or— or I didn’t… I still don’t want to not be with him. I– I was ready Lucy. Ready for the next step– granted the next step was telling him I loved him… whereas his was moving me into his loft–”

“Wait…” Lucy pushes forward from where she had been leaning against a tree and starts to pace. “He asked you to move in– into the loft?”

“He did.”

“But you have a house…”

“Yes but– dammit Lucy this is still not the point! I love him! I- I would have said yes. I s- should have said yes! I don’t–” His voice breaks, he covers his face. Then Lucy’s arms are around him, tugging him down to her level, allowing him to hide his face in her shoulder instead. 

No Pressure 🏷️ (even though I know it’s late 🫣) : @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 @hyperfocusthusly @weewookinard

@beanarie @leashybebes @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @bucksxkinard

@sweaters-and-silly @quintessenceofdust88 @sierrarreads @saibowtie @kinardsevan

@unhingedangstaddict @portinastorm @ladyeyrewrites @rubydaiquiri

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @fenrirscarsback

(I am so sorry if I missed someone! Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[6lytherinn]

a little fic based on this gift of sterek<3

The Hale house was tense. Even without the voices that were now raised, you could feel the thickness in the air.

It wasn't often that Stiles and Derek would fight. A mere argument here and there that usually involved snarky comments and rolled eyes, but nothing like this.

The event that was unfolding in the kitchen of the Hale house had been brewing for weeks now. It had begun as Stiles was trying to conversate with his fiancé over dinner about the idea of adoption.

It was no secret that Stiles Stilinski was ready to be a father. He and Derek had been together for 3 years now, and were planned to be married in less than 6 months.

Each time Stiles would bring up the topic, Derek would either get quiet or change the subject. The first few times this happened Stiles brushed it off, thinking maybe Derek had misheard him or not heard him at all. But after a while he seemed to understand what was happening. Derek was avoiding the conversation.

That's exactly what led them to tonight. The night was tense as soon as the couple had sat down to enjoy their takeout Derek had picked up on the way home. It was Stiles' favorite Indian food and despite being pleased to have it, he couldn't shake his grumpy mood.

He had spoken to his best friend, Scott earlier in the day about what was troubling him and Derek. Scott's advice was of course to be honest with Derek and ask him what the issue was.

‘Just ask, Stiles. C'mon this is Derek, you guys talk about everything together,’ was his advice. And he knew Scott was right. They were open books when it came to each other, and that's exactly why this was bothering Stiles so much.

“Why are you avoiding me everytime I bring up adoption?” Stiles decided to just go straight for the question. He was always blunt and right now he needed answers.

Derek closed his eyes and Stiles saw the man breathe in deeply.

“Can we please talk about this later? We're having dinner, Stiles.”

The younger man felt his blood rising, he refused to let Derek push him away again.

“No. I think we should talk about this right now, Derek.” He spoke as calm as he could but he knew Derek could sense his frustration. Even without his werewolf senses.

“Stiles, why do we need to do this right now? Can't we enjoy our dinner?” Derek refused to look up from his plate. Avoiding eye contact was a major tell that Derek was hiding something. Stiles felt tears pricking his eyes now. Why was his fiancé being so dismissive of something he felt so passionately about?

“Derek, be honest with me right now. What the hell are you trying to avoid? Fucking look at me, Derek.” Stiles was yelling by now, something he tried not to do.

Derek was angry as well. Stiles was so stubborn. He would never drop things when he set his mind to them and right now he wanted to discuss something Derek did not want to talk about. His nostrils flared as he finally looked up, both men were worked up now, the dinner in front of them completely forgotten.

“Because I don't want to fucking have kids, Stiles! You want to be a dad, I get it but I don't fucking want that. You never ask what I want, you just assume that having a family is something I want and it's not. I have you and that's enough, okay, I don't want to talk about adoption because I don't fucking want kids. God, you're so fucking stubborn it's driving me nuts.”

Derek regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, the shock and sadness that replaced the anger on Stiles face was immediate. He knew his words had hurt Stiles deeply and he didn't know what to say.

Stiles said nothing, his eyes shining with tears. He stood and without saying a word walked down the hallway and into their guest bedroom where he locked himself in and didn't come back out for the whole might.

—-

The next morning Derek awoke to his alarm. 6:30 AM, it was time for him to start the day and head to work. He hoped to find Stiles in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers like he always did but Derek found the kitchen empty.

He didn't have but 30 minutes before he left for work, not having enough time to do anything but shower and grab a poptart from the pantry. He walked to the guest bedroom door and debated on whether he should try to talk to Stiles before work. He figured the conversation they needed to have would require more than 5 minutes so he decided to let the young man sleep as he headed out the door for work.

6 hours later Derek was stumbling through their front door, completely worn out from his day of work and ready to mend things with Stiles and tell him how sorry he was for exploding on him the night before.

Once again upon entering, Derek noticed how quiet it seemed in their home. He checked the kitchen, and then the bedroom. Both bathroom doors were ajar which meant Stiles was not in those rooms either.

Derek ran to the front door and onto their porch where he noticed for the first time Stiles' jeep wasn't there. He had been so lost in thought when arriving home that he hadn't noticed the jeep was missing. He went back to the bedroom and noticed a few of Stiles' things were also gone, including his overnight bags he had used at the beginning of their relationship when he would stay over, before Derek had asked Stiles to move in with him.

Grabbing his phone he clicked Stiles' contact and felt his heart drop as it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, you've reached Stiles. Leave a message and maybe I'll get back to you.” Came the voice of his fiancé.

The older man rubbed his face as he thought of what to do next. Stiles has left and it was all his fault. He went too far and now Stiles was done. He would never see the boy again. Never hug him or kiss him, or tell him how much he loved him.

He quickly dialed the sheriff's number hoping that Stiles went back to his childhood home. However he was no closer to finding him after his short, and now hostile conversation with said boy's dad. Neither Scott, Lydia or even Liam had seen the man and Derek was beginning to worry even more.

He decided he'd just go drive around and look for him.

—-

After about 30 minutes of driving around aimlessly, Derek finally picked up on what he had been looking for. The sweet minty smell that belonged to none other than Stiles Stilinski himself.

He was at a coffee shop, one that he and Stiles had attended many times in their relationship. They had spent many hours here just sipping coffee and enjoying each other's company. The memories made Derek smile for a split second before he remembered why he was there in the first place.

He quickly exited his car and walked inside, he smelled the familiar scent even stronger now and it made his inner wolf relax.

Stiles smelt like home. He smelt like peace and family and happiness. He looked around the cafe and his eyes settled on the beautiful boy he called his lover. It was as if Stiles felt his eyes reach him because at the same moment he looked to his left and made eye contact.

Stiles looked miserable. His face looked as if he had been crying for hours, his complexion paler than usual. He held no traces of a smile, instead he seemed as if he had all happiness drained from him.

He looked heartbroken.

Derek held eye contact as he walked forward and settled across the table from Stiles who now refused to look at him.

“How'd you find me here?” He asked, still staring down.

“I didn't. I was driving around just looking for you, and then I smelled you.”

Stiles laughed dryly. “Of course you did. Can't get away from a werewolf, can you?”

Derek frowned slightly. Stiles was still mad.

“Stiles-” He was interrupted immediately as Stiles looked up. His eyes were red.

“Don't, Derek. I got the point last night and I'd rather not hear it again. I didn't know you felt that way and maybe it's best we leave each other alone for a bit. I wouldn't want to push you into doing things you don't want to do.” His voice was full of disappointment. Stiles began to rise from his chair and Derek grabbed his hand and tugged him back down softly.

“I do want kids with you, Stiles. I'm just scared.” He admitted.

This caught Stiles attention. His face softened and he sat down slowly.

“What are you scared of?” He whispered. “What if I can't be a good father?” It was time to confess his worries now. No reason to hold them back.

“Of course I want a family with you. That's all I want if I'm being honest. But what if I can't keep you both safe? Bad things seem to follow me Stiles, you know they do. I worry all the fucking time about keeping you safe, and the thought of failing you is hard enough. I can't imagine if I failed you and our children. I'm just so scared.” Stiles felt his heart sink as he listened to Derek’s confession. So this is what all of this avoidance had been about. He was scared.

“Derek, you are the strongest, bravest man I know. You would do anything to keep your family safe and that's how I know you will be a wonderful father. You would be such an amazing dad. Nothing would happen to me or to our family. I am here to stay forever, Derek. You will never lose me.” These words seem to break through the wall Derek had subconsciously begun to build up surrounding the topic of starting a family.

He was still terrified, but he would rather spend his life protecting Stiles and their future family than to live easily without them. He reached across the table and grabbed the others hands in his. He gave a loving smile as he spoke.

“I think I'm ready to talk about it now.” He squeezed his hand as he spoke. “What do we need to do to start the process?”

You guys these manips are getting too good . .

[blorger]

Malfoy’s mouth twisted; he darted a look over his shoulder like he was afraid someone was listening in. “I got this,” he said, and shoved a crumpled piece of parchment at them. “Late last night. I didn’t - I don’t understand it. I thought maybe you might.” Hermione took it reluctantly, running her thumb over a hastily smeared broken red seal. She said, “What is it?” “Open it,” Malfoy said, folding his arms. Unwillingly, Hermione flipped it open, and then her breath caught; it was Harry’s handwriting, scrawled and only half-legible and unmistakable. “Oh my God,” she said, and Ron leaned over her shoulder. The letter was short. In its entirety, it read： Draco-- It’s you, right? Is it you? What are you at Hogwarts for? I’m sorry, I’m trying to lay low and it’s taken me a week to work out what’s going on in this fucking place. I’m on my way. See you soon. Kisses!!! HP x Hermione stared. She read it again. She stared some more. “I, uh, I don’t get it,” Ron said. “Is this a joke?” “I don’t know,” Malfoy said, voice tight with disapproval. “I hoped you would tell me that.” “This makes no sense to me,” Hermione said, reading it rapidly a fifth, sixth, seventh time. “This has to be some sort of prank. It’s awful. That’s not how Harry talks!” “It’s, uh, it’s sort of how Harry talks,” Ron said. “Except for, you know, the--” “Kisses,” Hermione repeated disbelievingly. “Kisses.” “None of it is how he talks to me,” Malfoy snapped. “So it makes no sense at all. So - fix it!”

from In The Hand by aideomai 🔒

[a3r3n]

[8:18 am] || Na Jaemin

«Na Jaemin,» the teacher called the boy who was trying to get to his seat without being noticed. «You're late, again.»

«I know, Mrs. Park,» the boy said with a slight subtle smile, «and I'm deeply sorry for it. You know I'd never miss one of your interesting lessons, and I promise it won't happen ever again!»

The teacher smiled back and let him reach his seat, only giving him a – vain – warning. You rolled your eyes at your teacher's reaction and wondered how many times Jaemin would have to promise not to be late for her to realize that would never happen.

«Good morning, beautiful,» the boy greeted you, sitting at the desk right beside yours.

«Good morning, Jaemin,» you replied, not sparing him a glance. If you had, you would have seen a pair of bright eyes and a warm smile dedicated only to you, but you knew he was like this with every girl he talked to. And, as usual, every girl would immediately fall for it.

But you didn't want to be like them. After all, what was so special about him? He was an average guy like all your other classmates and nothing more.

«Did the teacher say something important before I arrived?» he asked, and you made the mistake of turning your face to him and letting your gazes meet. No, he definitely wasn't like all the other boys you knew. Even when he didn't have that stupid smile on his face, even when his eyes weren't on flirting mode, he still had something special that charmed everyone around him. And no, you weren't so immune to it as you liked to think.

«Hello? Is anyone there?» he asked, tapping your forehead and chuckling a little at your startled reaction.

«I'm- I'm sorry, what did you say?»

«I asked you if the teacher said something important before I arrived.»

«Uh, well... yes, she started to explain the third chapter. I- uhm, I can lend you my notes if you think you might need them.»

Jaemin kindly accepted and kept your notes until the end of the lesson. As soon as the bell rang, he grabbed his stuff and left in a rush to join his friends, leaving your notes on his desk. When you went to take them back, however, you noticed there was another sheet of paper between the ones you had lent him. It was pink and signed by Jaemin, but you could already tell it was from him from his recognizable handwriting.

"To my favorite classmate.

Thank you for the notes.

Also, I didn't understand anything of the things Mrs. Park explained today, so, if you're willing to help me, I'll be at the school library by 4.

Hope you'll join me.

In the meantime, think about me but not too much, or you'll get too distracted.

I'll be thinking about you ;)"

Na Jaemin, he'll be the death of you.

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