#i think the only thing i could add is that in the offical high school au

[samuraionyourmom]

I don't have anything to add. I just think Dazai's face after he gets smacked is hilarious to me and I had to comment on it. Bug eyed Dazai ftw.

I think we should start a collaborative collection of minor bsd lore/character facts that people forget/don't know about because they're manga or light novels-exclusive because there's so many of them

Like Dazai making extremely good tofu while trying to make a saying literal by hurting his head on tofu and being mad about it in Dark Era

[miange1]

YAY

okay so i wanna request something where donnie is talking about his crush on reader(male) to his therapist and it's sorta like the situation where he almost jerks off in her office yk?

but he starts to spill too much saying that he's basically a really gross and stalker pervert towards you😪

maybe add something a little cute at the end after all of that :3

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, perverted tendencies, donnie starts seeing reader in hallucinations, wet dreams, stalking, taking underwear and 'using' it, reader has a crush on donnie but doesn't know what he does, a full fic instead of head cannons for once, slight homophobia even though donnies friends were talking about a gay smurf

"Donnie.." his kisses trailed along your soft skin, grabbing hold of your waist harshly to keep you still and close to him. He loved moments like these with you, moments where he could have you all to himself and use you as you pleased because you would never say no to him, right?

You loved him, and he loved you. "Hm." He hummed, glancing up at you a bit as his kisses stopped at you hip, and his hands moving towards the bottom of your pants.

"Donnie no," He was confused, why were you saying no? You never say no, what was wrong now? "What, why? You're hard for me, why are you.." you shook your head and shushed him. "It's time for school."

Of course it was a fucking dream, he could even remember himself sighing and realizing in his head before he had woke up.

He was in no mood to deal with anyone today, more than usual. The boy was so close to punching his friends in the throat if they made fun of that girl one more time. He just wanted to get on the bus and be able to see you for the few seconds he could, and then for the hours he could stare at you through eyes you couldn't see.

"Guys, just leave her alone. Bus is about to come anyway." Even as he spoke he was only thinking of you, the cigarette burning to the curb right before the bus had pulled over to the curb, and he'd let the stick fall onto the concrete.

Neither of you had classes together, you'd just see each other in the hallways and it was a miracle you had looked over and waved to him. First thing that went through his mind was that you were the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

First thing that went through his friends minds was that you were a faggot. "He's into you man." Donnie scoffed, head shaking in disbelief, "All he did was wave at me, I mean we barely even know each other." Which was only partially true, he knew almost everything about you. Knew of your interests, knew what you liked to watch and read, knew what kinda porn you liked, knew what brand your boxers were, and could probably guess which you were wearing right now.

Even last night he had watched you be confused as to why half of your pairs were missing. Sometimes he wished you could see it, see his eyes rolling back as his own hands were working at jerking himself off— taking in your scent and feeling so high off of it.

"Donnie!" He jumped up a bit, realizing he had been in class. Jesus, when had he gotten here? "I said do you have a pencil for me to borrow?" Blinking a bit, he nodded his head. "Yeah..yeah, here man."

"What's gotten into you, snap out of it." He wished he could, if he hadn't met you everything would go somewhat smoothly and he could continue along with his day.

"Hey Donnie!" Hearing your voice, he instantly turned his body around and started walking next to you. "Hey," he felt shy, itching to hold your hand but he just shoved it in his pocket. "I'm gonna be going to the movies later, you wanna come?" God, he wanted to say yes, say yes so so badly— but he couldn't. The hope in your eyes slightly went away as he said no, "Ah, I understand." No, no you didn't understand. He didn't want you to understand it that way, he needed you to understand how badly he needed you.

"Hey, hey, look." He blocked your way, standing in front of you as the gravel crumbled underneath his feet. "Look.. I have a therapist, and that's the reason I can't make it tonight." His heart skipped a beat as you smiled slightly, this time actually getting it. "Oh, then there's no worries! I just thought you didn't want to hang out with me." Never in a million years would that be possible, not now or ever.

"Of course I wanna hang out with you." He grabbed your face, almost till it hurt. "What makes you think I don't?" You laughed, your cheek squishing together more as you did so. "Well, maybe the fact you're trying to pop my head open."

His hands let go, heading to his sides while he tried to laugh it off.

Hypnotherapy. Donnie wasn't sure how to feel about it, each and every time he'd 'wake up' hard, and his dick almost out.

"So..Donnie." Dr. Thurman walk back and forth around the room, "Have you met anyone new?"

Donnie nodded, taking a bit before answering. "I met a boy.." he muttered, already feeling a slight twitch in his pants.

"That so? ..Is he like Frank?" Donnie shook his head, no. "No..no, he's nothing like Frank, he's.." He bit his lip, slightly giggling. "He's real." Dr. Thurman took that as a note to most likely stop. Because if Donnie liked this boy, then his pants would be unbuttoned again.

"Do you have any romantic interest in him?" Donnie looked over at her, eyes practically closed but not too much. "You gonna call me a fag if I say I do?" Dr. Thurman shook her head. "No, if you have interest in him we should discuss it." She almost felt the need to say 'For his safety' but she kept it shut.

"Would you mind explaining more?" Bad idea.

"Mh.. well.." His body shifted on the couch a bit. "His body..I love it..I wanna be all over it." Taking a breath, he continued on. "And fuck him..really really hard, feel him squirm and moan out my name." His hands went to his pants, unbuttoning somewhat slower.

"He's so sweet to me..wonder if his moans are sweeter..if his hole is as tight as my fist when I—" "Donnie. I need you to..explain something else." She didn't want to hear that.

"Explain what..how I look at him while he's asleep and awake? Sniff his clothes? Fantasize about using his body how I'd like? That what you wanna hear?" Dr. Thurman clapped her hands.

"that's enough for today Donnie."

"Morning Donnie." You gave him your usual wave, smiling over at him. He reciprocated, before reminding himself of something.

"Oh— hey, wait a minute." He stopped you, grabbing your arms. "Do you wanna..go out? Somewhere? Sometime?" He went silent as you seemed dumbfounded, his heart feeling heavy and he felt sort of angry.

Why were you looking at him like that? Confused? Did you not want him like he did? "Like, today? Sure why not." Then you smiled at him, and he felt himself get less tense.

"Great."

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[angelwhisp3rs]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ man like me

Pairing: RE!2 Leon x fem!reader

Summary: Leon has gone through so much training, life always made it look like he didn't luck out. Always the butt of the joke, he questioned if he would ever be a man. His partner seems to think he is man enough for her <3

Tags: Smut; bj; he cums in her face; slight sub!leon; leon gets called a fairy because he is not considered a "macho man" (i hate m*n)

Notes: First post! I'm so excited, i've been brainrotting for RE for years, and just now decided to add to the community. Love you all! Feel free to give me any tips for my writing or some prompts!

Also, please! If you are a minor, i don't feel comfortable with you interacting with my content, so no minors allowed ok?

Have you ever felt like you weren’t blessed? Well, Leon felt that every day of his life. His parents dying, his rough childhood in the orphanage, he had to work twice as harder than anyone of his peers to achieve anything. Now, as a cop, he believed that this was all in the past - he chose the manliest job of them all.

Oh, well. Turns out that stations were just an adult hangout spot for jocks that never grew out of their high school days.

The women would coo at him, calling him cute and adorable, while the older officers would sneak some comments about him being a “fairy”. Fucking idiots. 

After some months working with them, Leon managed to gain at least some respect among his colleagues - he was a great cop after all, and he even managed to tone down some of the ridiculous teasing (and plain homophobia, if you ask him). 

To the surprise of everyone there, a new recruit would be coming in, making Leon celebrate a little on the inside - maybe it would be his chance to stop being the butt of the joke and finally laugh along with the rest, not being the one laughed at.

He couldn't wait to finally turn his luck around.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Turns out he is wrong. Of course things wouldn’t go his way once. The rookie was a girl - well, a woman, and a pretty one at that. 

The men there went ballistic. The single, desperate for attention, and the married, aching for an affair. Used to the calm and pliant women in the precinct, the men didn’t wait for even 5 minutes to let out their disgusting comments, calling her a hot piece of their ass, some even suggesting that they could ‘teach her’ the ways around there.

They were so wrong. Cutting their comments short, she looked at them in disgust, and distributed answers that put them back into their places. Hell, she even dared to ask how the deputy’s wife wasn't arrested for animal cruelty for sleeping with a pig like him.

Leon looked at her with stars in his eyes - she was different from him after all, not letting those idiots run through her. The bigoted idiots decided that as a “punishment” to her, she would be his new partner, matching their work hours and patrolling together. That fact made him excited, but not for long. Unfortunately, his intrusive thoughts began swarming his head: “Do you really think she won’t make fun of you?” and “A woman like her would eat up a man like you”.

The only thing he could do was stand a hand to her, offering a handshake “Hi there, partner. I’m Leon Kennedy”.

She had a predatory smirk on her face, looking at him up and down. “Hi, Leon. I think we’re gonna be great partners”.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

When Leon thought she would eat up a guy like him, he didn’t think it would be like that. It was way after the time they had to clock out, and they were the only ones left in the station. Leon was backed up in the evidence room, his pants on the floor as her mouth worked around his cock, drenching it with her spit. The only sounds heard were the man trying to drone out his moans with his hand on his mouth, and her gagging as she took him as deep as she could in her throat.

To Leon, this had to be a dream - no way that would ever happen. But as he looked down, her sinful eyes looking up at him, he knew that he couldn’t even dream of something as good as this. He had to be careful not to knock out the evidence in the surrounding files, choosing to rest his hand on her ponytail - quite convenient for the situation.

“You are doing so well, baby. Why don’t you come in my face, and show them that you are the only man able to do that, huh?” She taunted him as she kept pumping his cock his her hands, slick with her saliva and the precum that drooled on his tip

Her mouth returned to his member as she kept her hands going, thriving at his blushing face and his desperate whines. The man was going crazy, it’s been so long since something other than his hand touched his cock, that the 8 minutes of her mouth - which he believed to be 30, were enough to bring him to the edge. Soon, her mouth pulls back as she jerks him faster, angling at her face as he coats it with his pearly cum, hitting her cheeks, mouth and chin.

While he believed that his soul had left his body and come back, she stood up and grabbed some tissues there to clean her face. All cleaned up, she helped him put his pants back on and pressed some kisses to his jaw, whispering to his ear “Why don’t you come over to my place and show my cunt who is the only man to fill it up?”. After that, she left the evidence room with a smirk, looking back at him once and throwing a wink at him.

Well, it turns out that luck was a person, and it finally caught up to him.

[demigodsanswer]

Percabeth + coffee shop au + holiday au?

The holiday part of this is a bit squint and you miss it. I meant for there to be more, but alas.

Percy had wanted to open up a bakery, but a coffee shop that sold pastries seemed more lucrative. In hindsight, he was glad he made that choice. He wasn't sure Annabeth ever would have stepped inside if he only sold apple turnovers and cupcakes.

She came in every morning, dressed like a young professional, her hair back in a ponytail usually, high heels sticking out of her purse, flat shoes on her feet. When she got in line, Percy knew to start making her soy latte extra shot before she even made it to the register. Sometimes he slipped one of their vegan brownies in too, on the house.

(He never asked if she was vegan or if soy milk was just a taste thing, but his ex was lactose intolerant. Last thing he wanted to do was ruin her day.)

"Thanks Percy," she said, grabbing her drink seconds after paying for it. He handed her the brownie, in a clear sleeve with their "vegan" sticker on it. She smiled and accepted it graciously. "You're a hero," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he promised.

So, maybe he had a thing for one of his patrons. It didn't matter that much. She was about his age (probably), and never yelled at his staff. Her seven dollar daily latte was keeping his lights on. And she was maybe the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Do you think I should add more vegan options?" He asked Grover. Grover was the lead barista and his business partner. He some how sourced fair trade coffee they could actually afford.

"It's better for the environment," was Grover's response.

"So, yes?" Percy asked.

"Give it a shot. Everyone loves a little vegan treat."

"No, you love a little vegan treat. Most people think they taste like sand," Percy said.

"That's an exaggeration. Your brownie is delicious. And I'm sure whatever you make, Annabeth will love it."

Percy bright red face ended that conversation. "I'm going to to hang the Christmas lights," he said, heading out into the cold without a jacket in the hopes that his face went back to normal.

~

Percy kept the coffee shop opened later than was maybe wise, but he worked most of the late shift hours by himself or with Meg, a high school kid working after school. They always got a few late afternoon coffee drinkers, and a couple of high school kids sitting to do homework.

Percy had to be there anyway. He was working on a few new vegan options. The holiday season was a good time to find out what people liked; they were more likely to treat themselves to something sweet.

He'd worked out a good vegan pumpkin pie, which they sold by the slice. That was a hit, although he was still working to get the crust perfect. The oatmeal cookie had been easy enough. The Nutella banana bread was actually so good that Annabeth ordered it the next morning. Percy made a note to keep it on the menu.

The holiday brought festive drinks too. He needed to compete with Starbucks, so he offered peppermint ... everything, caramel everything, and pumpkin everything. He was hanging a sign in the window advertising their peppermint mocha when he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the glass.

Annabeth smiled at him. It was six at night. They were only open for another hour. And she never stopped by after work. She must have come right from the office, because she still had her heels on.

The bell rang as she opened the door. "Are you still open?" She asked.

"Sure am," Percy confirmed. He would have said yes even if that wasn't true. "Soy latte?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Um, what about that --" she pointed towards the sign, "peppermint mocha?"

"You got it," Percy said, heading back behind the counter. "Soy?"

"Sure."

"I don't have a dairy-free whip cream," he said. He made a note to try and find one. Frank would like it.

"Regular is fine," she said. "I'll treat myself. Decaf though," Annabeth added.

"Are you vegan?" Percy asked as he brewed the espresso.

"I try but fail a lot. I'm pretty good at avoiding meat, but real dairy is just too good," Annabeth said.

"Easier to bake with too," Percy said. "For here or to go?" He had a to-go cup in his hand out of habit, but Annabeth had settled down at one of the open tables.

"Here," she said. Percy made the drink in a large ceramic mug.

"What brings you in tonight?" He asked, as he dropped off the coffee.

He didn't have anything pressing in the back, and there were only two college students diligently working on the other side. He could chat for a while.

As if reading his mind, Annabeth used her foot to push a chair out for him. Percy said down as she took the first sip. She closed her eyes and sighed happily.

"That's so good," she said. Percy was pretty sure he was flushed again. He hoped it went away before she could open her eyes. "It was just one of those long end-of-the-year work days, you know? Everyone rushing to get things done. I wanted something to cheer me up, and I walked by and thought ..." she looked at him in a new, attentive way he'd never caught before. "... a warm drink sounds nice."

"I hope it helped," he said.

"It is," she promised.

"I've got a new vegan cinnamon roll I'm testing. Want to try it?" Percy offered.

"How is it?" She asked.

"Not sure, they're fresh, first round," he said.

"I guess I can help test it for you," Annabeth said with a smile.

Percy jumped up and came back a minute later with one round roll on a plate and two forks.

He tried not to be too creepy as he watched her take a bite, savor it, and then carefully make up her mind.

"It's a little dry," she determined. "The icing is great, and the taste is good, but ..."

Percy took his own bite and nodded. "Too much cinnamon. It dries it out."

"Still pretty delicious," Annabeth said, going for another bite, "especially for not having half the ingredients that make food taste good."

"Thanks!" Percy said with a wide smile. "You know, my co-owner Grover is vegan."

"Oh, is he the motivation for all the new treats?" Annabeth asked.

"Uh, sure," Percy said, barely playing off that she was the real reason, not his best friend of almost twenty years, "but he was telling me about this new vegan restaurant. He says it's pretty good."

Annabeth was smiling, and she had a mischievous look in her eyes that told him she was six steps ahead of him.

"Oh?" She said innocently, going for another bite of the cinnamon roll, but not actually putting the fork in her mouth yet. "Have you tried it?" She asked, finally taking a bite.

"No, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go with me? If you're not too busy?" He hadn't planned to ask her out today. He was thinking of maybe doing something corny and easy to ignore, like writing his phone number on her to-go cup. But he was in it now.

"I'd love to," she promised. Annabeth reached into her bag and pulled out a business card, and then shook her head. "Is this horribly impersonal and --?"

"It's alright," Percy said, "as long as I don't have to fax you the date information." There was a fax number on the card.

"Please don't, it's a communal machine," she said, "and older than I am."

"Alright, I won't," Percy promised. He didn't have a business card of his own, just ones with the coffee shop's information. So instead he did what most modern people did: he texted the cell number on her business card with a simple hey it's percy and a coffee cup emoji.

Annabeth smiled and took a second to save the number.

"So," she said, picking up her still-full drink. "Why did you start making vegan pastries?"

She had that I'm way ahead of you look in her eyes again. Percy swallowed hard.

"Um ..."

[christinesficrecs]

Also, these gems are still on tumblr for your enjoyment. 🧡💙🧡 here, here, here, and especially this one. Oooh, this one too.

the lunch table configuration | 16.6K | Explicit

When Isaac makes Derek switch lunch tables, the last thing Derek expected was to fall for Stiles.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream | 105.1K | Explicit

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

The Hollow Moon | 180K

It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.

Blind Date With A Book  | 30.3K

Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books.

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This Started As Only Make Believe | 44.1K | Explicit

Derek is trying (and failing) to juggle his career, coach lacrosse, and raise his 5 year old werewolf daughter. When he adds his bitter ex-wife and his daughter's slight attachment to him, Derek knows he doesn't have any time for a life of his own - and definitely no time for the super cute daycare teacher.

Past The Breakers | 40.7K

Stiles and Scott get summer jobs at the exclusive Seawolf Beach Resort, and the last thing Stiles expects is to start taking surf lessons from the hot lifeguard.

This Might Be Irony  | 38.3K

Stiles and Derek have been close friends since the Hale siblings moved in next door after their parents’ death. But Derek’s in the popular group, he’s a star baseball player, and he dates popular Pep Squad captain Jennifer Blake. Stiles doesn’t have any of that, just his skateboard and a hopeless crush on Derek (oh yeah, and his Vote Lydia Martin Prom Queen button). As prom and the baseball state championship grow closer, Stiles and Derek start rekindling their friendship.

And it all begins with two white boards.

heart as black as night | 97.7K | Explicit

It's 1924, and Derek Hale is a bootlegger and runs one of the many speakeasies in New York with the help of his Pack. They don't know, however, that he's also a hitman for his Uncle Peter, a shady Omega with mafia ties to whom Derek owes a huge debt.

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my heart’s been offline  | 58.8K

31/M/New York. Rich, lays in bed all day, likes to read (aka Derek Hale, son of an Oscar winning actress, brother of one obnoxious reality star and one rebellious fashion designer, hates the paparazzi so much he’s a recluse)

26/M/California. Boring office job, likes to read (aka Stiles Stilinski, co-owner of a 100 acre organic farm with his dad and two best friends, writer of obits for a newspaper, has absolutely no life)

Or, where Derek and Stiles meet online, and Stiles has no clue Derek’s part of a famous family.

I Ran (So Far) | 33.7K

In which Stiles’ summer starts off so badly he starts running, gets pelted by paint balls, and decides he is, in fact, going crazy if he willingly wants to hang out with Derek Hale.

But The World Won’t Stop Turning  | 19.9K

Derek glances at Stiles, who is watching him with a curious expression.

“Oh shit,” Stiles exclaims as comprehension dawns on him. “Everything makes sense now. Derek, I know what the witch did, she cursed you with – “

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I'll Be Seeing You | 81.4K | Explicit

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no aphrodisiac like loneliness  | 19.7K | Explicit

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn’t include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

[mammalsofaction]

HUMAN PERRY AU BACKSTORY

I've been having a lot of thoughts lately about Human Perry headcanons as I read a bunch of fic and rewatch phineas and ferb. You know you're hitting the nail on the head when scenes from a fic you might never write dog your every waking step and haunts your dreams so, I thought putting it on paper will help.

A lot of fics like to suggest that Perry's full name is Peregrine, which is understandable, but ever since I've rewatched 2D and found out their first name for him was actually Bartholomew my life was never the same. So Perry's actual name is Bartholomew. But nobody actually calls him that least of all himself.

FAMILY RELATIONS

-I really like winding headcanons that Perry is Ferb's biological mom's BROTHER, which honestly makes so much sense as to why both he and Ferb have green hair. Here are some add-ons that may get depressing;

Ferb's mom was Eve, or Evelyn. Her codename was E, for Echidna...because egg-laying mammals native to Australia. They were both orphans, and attached to the hip. They were each other's partner in crime.

-They were scouted for OWCA one day, bc the agency liked picking up kids with potential as young as possible. So Perry and Eve were trained for the agency since the start (which is why Perry is such a good agent at what seems to be a young age)

MY HEADCANONS FOR OWCA

-Owca is a largely independent authoritarian enterprise with branches all over the world. They aren't the only ones, obviously.

-OWCA also prefers training agents as early as they could. Sometimes that entails scouting talent. Sometimes that means taking in kids of employed agents. Either way, this means OWCA has elementary and high schools that are more akin to militant training camps. It's not cruel. The kids are well cared for and well fed, but OWCA prioritized competency, obedience and discipline.

On every level of OWCA recruitment, training and employment, there is a fedora, and band to mark whichever level you are on the totem pole.

1) Middle school kids are given a bandless fedora.

2) High school kids (soon to be graduates) are given a white band

3) Fresh graduates, training into full employment, are Yellow Bands. Here you start being assigned to full branches, and trained by field work professionals. Think OWCA Files.

4) It's fairly easy to graduate from Yellow Band into a Purple Band. Purple Bands are largely refereed to as Junior Agents, but that's not quite accurate. Purple Bands are the highest reporting authority in any division that ISN'T FIELD WORK. The OWCA Tech, Clerks, RnD and Science Divisions all have Purple Bands to signify they are fully employed, or Superior Officer. Pinky has a Purple Band.

5) It's VERY DIFFICULT to graduate from a Purple Band to a Black Band, not least because there IS NO PREDETERMINED TEST. Black Band agents are Superior Agents, only one level below Division General. There's no telling what could turn you from a Purple to a Black, because the agent has to prove unwavering obedience and faith to the agency in dire circumstances. It's saying "I am willing to do anything for the Greater Good."  Often it entails a death of some sort. OWCA often says Black is the band soaked in blood. Black Band agents have licenses to kill. It's why Black Band Agents are few and precious far in between.

6) After a black band, and you live long enough to retire, you can choose a bunch of things. Most agents choose to become Division Generals or Branch Managers: think Major Monogram. They're basically glorified "Guy in the Chair". Some agents choose to become educators, in which case they are given White Fedoras. White fedoras arent exclusive to black bands though; there are plenty purple band white fedoras. In fact most educators are purple band white fedoras.

-Perry's Black Band Event was Eve's death

-At the time of Eve's death, she had already been married to Lawrence. Ferb was barely a year old, maybe 10 months old?

-Lawrence was told it was a car accident: drunk driver. Truthfully it was a mission gone wrong, involving an underground child trafficking ring, and she stayed behind to give them all the chance to escape. She didn't have the chance to escape when security explosives around the building detonated, and she got caught in the crossfire. Perry had to leave her behind.

-This is why Perry refused to get a partner btw, aka his Lone Wolf tendencies come from.

-In the aftermath, OWCA agents approached the family to give them their condolences, and offer to take Ferb into the fold. For the first time since Eve's death, Perry practically lost it. He didn't hurt anyone, he's much too professional, but he knew Eve didn't want Ferb to get wrapped up in OWCA, and for good fucking reason. Due to their training, neither he nor Eve had much of a childhood, and he refused to subject Ferb to the same kind of life experience.

OWCA was NOT happy. Things were tetchy for a while, at least until Perry was approached by Major Monogram. Francis had a wife, and a son, and he understood where Perry was coming from. He suggested taking a permanent residence in Danville, which was his branch division. It was more stability than Perry ever had working in England, where he and Eve was originally stationed, and it was easy enough to come up with a work-related story to convince Lawrence, who was more than ready enough to leave the house where he and Eve originally lived.

-It was after moving did Lawrence meet and fall in love with Linda.

Edit; I've decided to change Ferb's bio mom's name bc I found something that fits better to me :) She's Eve now

End Backstory.

[dark-academia-alcoholic]

Life in the office can be a bit dull, but the routine of daily activities promises stability, and a decent paycheck. Sitting in the break room during lunch is often the best time of day. Aside from enjoying whatever lunch has been packed for the day, there's also ample time and space to do some people watching.

It's interesting how even in "adult" life, the break room is split into clicks like back in high school. From the production line workers, to the scientists, and even the administrators. All of them sit within their groups, only a few venture to the table of another.

There's also plenty of time to watch the people behind the scenes: the janitors who clean the tables and microwaves, the Coke employees who stop by only to restock the vending machines, and the coffee pots which are tended to by ...wait, who tends the coffee pots?

Stop and think about it for a minute. It seems that no one ever fills the water, adds the beans, or brews the coffee, yet there are always four pots full. The deluxe machine has two brew stations, and two additional heaters, all of which are always full and piping hot. People come and go, grab some coffee, yet the pot remains full.

But how?

This situation is most troubling, only because there is no obvious answer. Days are spent observing the machine, always with its full pots of coffee, never with anyone brewing any.

Could it be that the observer is being observed? Ridiculous. Yet the googly eyes someone stuck to the machine certainly don't help. And the fact that the eyes just moved on their own doesn't help either.

Wait.

The googly eyes just moved. Now there's a sound, a familiar sound, but it seems strange in this setting. The sound of coffee brewing.

There's no one else in the break room. Yet the coffee is being brewed. The googly eyes are definitely watching.

Then the answer becomes clear:

The coffee machine is a mimic.

Yet there have been no cases of injury or dissapearences. The electric OSHA sign proudly reports that the warehouse has gone 281 days without incident.

So then why would a mimic choose the form of a coffee machine? Why does it not do normal mimic things? Hundreds of people must interact with the mimic daily, yet it does nothing but serve fresh, hot coffee.

Could it be that this office mimic loves the employees? Is it an employee itself? Does it just have a passion for making coffee?

Perhaps these new questions are more unnerving than the original mystery of the bottomless coffee pots.

But, lunch break is over, so we must depart from our Office Mimic for now.

~ Abadon

Have a random story about Office Mimic who loves you (or loves making coffee, you decide which)! This was a random idea I've had floating around my head for some time, based on real experiences. I'm not entirely convinced our own coffee maker isn't a mimic.

I wrote this in one pass, with no editing or even rereading, cause I live life on the edge like that. I wanted to try to write something from the perspective of a non-present observer (save but the final line). So no "you notice" type phrases. There's probably a term for that type of perspective, but I'm no lit professor.

Also uh, @churchofthemimic may enjoy this. Your posts are a good reason why I felt compelled to jot this down, so.

[discoscoob]

Um...How about Neo?

This is also for @scarlettspectra who requested Loser!Neo (alongside her beau Jack which will be coming later) This is my speciality!

He is an orphan, he was given up as a baby. (I know his parents are on his file in the interrogation scene but let’s say it wasn’t hard for the Agents to find out who they were or Neo maybe already tracked them down himself but he avoided getting in contact.) This gave him abandonment issues and avoidant personality disorder — partly the reasons he has never been in a relationship. When he finally gets into one he is terrified you will leave him. He will worship you like a goddess but also questions what you see in him. He feels insecure and often needs reassurance but he will avoid telling you that because he doesn’t want to seem needy, so he is the suffer in silence type. You learn how he is feeling through his behaviour, if he becomes quieter than usual you can generally tell something is wrong but you practically have to beg him to tell you. Of course, once he does, you’ll do everything in your power to silence the insecurities, but it’s not an easy battle, one you can’t fight alone and he might have to consider therapy.

He’s inexperienced, which adds to his insecurities. When it didn’t happen in high school, he told himself it would happen in college. When it didn’t happen in college, he told himself he’d meet someone at work. Eventually he stopped expecting it to happen. He finds it hard to approach women, he doesn’t really know how to flirt or engage them in conversation, the few times he has tried still haunt him late at night because of how disastrous it was. Now he would rather save himself the embarrassment.

Sarcasm is his defence mechanism. He struggled a lot with authority growing up with teachers and different foster parents — think “how about I give you the finger and you give me my phone call.” He might be quiet but he’s not a total coward, granted before he learnt how to fight outside the Matrix, he wasn’t exactly the best fighter but he has quick reflexes and at least learnt how to dodge punches (before dodging bullets) and run away really fast. Despite being bullied growing up, he would still manage to get a few verbal jabs of his own in even though that probably only made things worse, he couldn’t help it. He’s smart and could figure out their insecurities, if not he would hack the school’s system and mess with their grades.

He looks after a stray black cat that lives near his apartment. He brought it inside once, despite his landlord having a no pets policy, when it chewed through one of his computer wires he took it back outside, but he still leaves out tins of cat food and sauces of water for it.

Wears black nail polish. Not much since he got a corporate job, he doesn’t really want to show up to the office with chipped black paint on his nails but he wore it a lot more in college.

[lollystocks]

Therapy for the Dead and Buried, Chapter 4

Chapter three here

Masterpost here

AO3

“Patient 17-A-2, session four. Have officially designated the patient as an ‘A’ type, specifically emotion-alteration, as well as some unspecified action-at-a-distance ability. While both may fall under ‘A’ categorization, I’ve yet to see two such different abilities manifest in the same patient. Though a surprisingly wide range of atypical abilities can manifest in the blowing of my light bulb…”

“Today I want to work on exploring the capabilities of the emotion-alteration. I believe that full control is the path to dampening, and that focussing only on suppression would be… ineffective.”

“Patient has said some things in previous sessions that I find intriguing. References to events that are untrue, a strange usage of the word ‘here’ when talking about the world, and an off-hand reference to ‘they are out to get me’. While most patients are naturally suspicious of my intentions, James is unusually guarded.”

“Note to self: investigate the known limits of ‘D’ type abilities. As… sore, a subject that may be for me.”

--

“... and let the leaf float down the stream. When you are ready, exhale, then open your eyes.”

Danny did as she said, wincing a little as the bright sunshine of the office met his eyes. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on his knees.

“How do you feel?”

“Um. A bit more relaxed, physically? I guess some nice deep breathing for ten minutes is like, actually good for you.”

“Just physically?”

“Yeah, um. I’m not sure I’m very good at the exercise. Acknowledging the thoughts and just… letting them go down the stream. Like, if a thought comes to me, it sticks around, you know? I can picture a leaf or something drifting away from me but like, the actual thought is still in my brain. So rather than letting it drift away it sits there, and then to do the exercise right - having a new thought arrive on the stream - I try to think of what else could go on a leaf, and now I have a new thought, and they’re all piling up in my brain like a rotten leaf pile in the fall. You know?”

Doctor Bright nodded. The corners of her eyes softened a touch and the side of her mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t be too worried about how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are at meditation, James. This was your first attempt, and it might take some time and work for it to click with you.”

“I guess. Just feels like another responsibility, you know? Chores and grades and my job and paperwork, now I’ve got to add another thing to the list?”

“I suppose you could think of it that way, James. Our mental wellbeing is something that takes work, and sometimes doing so can infringe on other things in our life.”

“Yeah!”

Against his better judgement, Danny liked Doctor Bright. A bit. That she often simply agreed with what he said was… well. He wasn’t exactly used to it. He craved both her approval and disapproval in equal measure, so couldn’t help himself from pushback when the opportunity arose.

“And like, I know you’re gonna say it needs to be a high priority, but everything’s high priority. I need good grades if I’m gonna have a future, I need to keep the apartment clean if I don’t wanna get evicted, I need to keep myself clean and fed so I don’t get sick, I need my job to get money to do any of the above. It’s just, like. It’s a lot. Twenty minutes a day is a lot.”

“Many teenagers find their lives to be uniquely pressured. All the responsibilities of adulthood are coming in, with all the restrictions of childhood. Many feel a sense ‘now or never’, and that their future success is totally determined by their achievement as an adolescent.”

“But it’s hard not to think that, when that’s what every adult is telling you. Like, I can know logically that it’s all bullcrap and that teachers and school admins tell you that so you get good SATs and go to a good college ‘cause then they get better funding and reputation and stuff, I know all that. And that like, plenty of people turn their lives around when they’re an adult. But in a way it is kinda true for me ‘cause I have nothing else going for me right now, Doctor Bright.”

He sat up straight and, clutching his imaginary pearls, recited, “I’m seventeen, I’ve no money and no prospects. I’m a burden on… the state? And I’m frightened.” Accent and everything.

Doctor Bright’s eyebrows raised at that. “Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yeah. My si-. Um. I used to know someone who was obsessed with it. I could probably quote you the entire film.”

“Film? I thought it was a miniseries?”

“Oh. Yeah. Anyway, yeah, I don’t have a backup plan. If I flunk out now, I have no real future. I need to do well now to go to college so I can make money and have an actual life.”

“Unfortunately, your stress is understandable. Many of your personal circumstances - poverty, emancipation - these are significant obstacles. Whereas others your age can afford to spend some time finding their feet in their adolescence, you’ve had extra responsibilities placed on you, many that your peers could never understand.”

“Wait, so you agree? That I'm screwed?”

“Not at all, James. From what I’ve seen, you are more than capable of making your way in the world. You’re smart, driven, and passionate, and I believe wholeheartedly that you can succeed. You have a future, James. You’re right in that it will be more difficult for you than for others, but you need to allow yourself some grace. The occasional mistake, or even failure, will not doom you.”

Danny didn’t answer, and took a deep interest in the decor instead. There was a strip of sealant around the doorframe that was coming off, just slightly. He wanted to rip it off all the way.

It was moments like this that really drove home that therapy with the doctor could only get him so far. The occasional mistake will not doom you.

Only last week, he’d nearly had a panic attack when he’d seen another kid surreptitiously check their phone during a surprise test. Danny hadn’t even been the one cheating, but simply being witness to it had brought on visions of bombed-out cities.

Doctor Bright already knew more about him than he was comfortable with. His lingering terror-guilt-disgust over that one potential future would not be something solved in this office.

The doctor’s voice snapped him back.

“If I may, James, I’d like to come back to what you said earlier about the leaves stacking up in your mind during the visualization. Do you often feel like that?”

Danny scoffed. “Oh, a hundred percent. It’s constantly like - you know that thing, where if someone says, ‘don’t think about penguins’, all you can do is think about penguins?”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

“I feel like that all the time. Like there are thoughts I know I should be having, like my internal to-do list, or concentrating on the lesson, or looking at someone in their face when they’re talking to you. And then there are the thoughts I really don’t want to be having, but I’m always aware of what I’m trying not to think about, so. I think about them. And then it all stacks together and it’s like everyone talking at once, the good and the bad and the necessary, and then it’s all ‘Hey, kid, you listening?’ and someone in the real world is snapping their fingers in my face.”

“That must be stressful.”

“It is. And even though the meditation was kinda the same, it was… less, I guess? Like rather than try and push the bad thoughts down, just having them sit there visually, I don’t know. They stayed more like surface thoughts than anything deeper. Like the leaves were still there, but I was holding them in my hands rather than having them sucked in through my ears into my brain. You know?”

“That’s excellent, James. I think if you can try to find any calm moments in the day to practice this visualization, you’ll get better and better at identifying and diffusing these discrete thoughts. Not to mention the physical benefits you mentioned.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Danny didn’t want to get into a discussion about how there were no ‘calm moments’ in his days. But this did bring him onto something he’d been wondering about.

“Um, Doctor Bright. I gotta ask - why are you teaching me meditation? I thought we were gonna work on my ‘scary thing’, now that I know you know that I’m a, um. An Atypical.”

“Ah, I should have explained better. While anyone can benefit from meditation, there is a wealth of evidence that it is particularly useful for Atypicals who are learning how to control their abilities - especially those that are linked to their emotional state. Which, to be honest, is most of them.”

Danny felt his eyebrows furrow. “‘Linked to their emotional state,’ how?”

Barely perceptible, Doctor Bright’s eyes lit up slightly. “Here’s one example. A fytokinetic is someone with the ability to control plant matter with their mind - it’s a very broad ability type, with many manifestations. Someone with limited control over their ability - say, a young person who’s new to their powers - would likely find the plant matter around them acting in direct response to their mental state. Intense sadness could cause wilting, or feelings of self-disgust and loneliness to plant matter rotting and decaying. Bursts of joy could cause flowers to bloom.”

“So, classic X-Men stuff, right? Powers as a metaphor, ‘show don’t tell?’”

“In a way, although I encourage my patients not to equate their lives with fictional worlds and people. You, your life, and your powers are real, James. Your ability isn’t a metaphor, it’s just a fact of life.”

“A shitty one.”

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“How could it not be? Say I get full control, what then? It’s hardly useful, the ability to scare people sh- witless. It’s not something I need any more, but it’s still here, making me miserable. It’s stopping me from making friends, or keeping a job. The best thing I can do with it is stop it.”

“I wish I had more answers for you, James, but I don’t. Your ability is a part of you, whether or not you like it. And you have to learn to live with it.”

“Hah. Live with it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Never mind. So coming back to the mental state thing - if I can better control my emotions, I can better control my abilities?”

The Doctor looked like she went to write something, then thought better of it. “That's the case for most Atypicals, yes. Especially so for those whose abilities are of the psychic type, interacting with others’ minds, as yours is. I've already seen good evidence that your own mental state influences your ability.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. I'm pretty attuned to identifying when my mind is being influenced by an Atypical ability, as you might imagine, but even without that, I think I would have noticed a difference. My sense of fear and unease spikes when you appear to be agitated or distrusting; it eases when you're relaxed. You may not feel that our visualization exercise was working well, but I experienced a significant drop in my fear.”

“Oh.”

In all honesty, Danny had forgotten that his Fear was continuing to influence the doctor. She certainly didn’t act afraid of him - or any of the other manifestations he experienced. Scorn. Anger. Disgust.

Danny didn’t want Doctor Bright to be scared of him. That she so readily admitted that she still was, in such a dispassionate, clinical matter-of-fact way, was kind of a bummer.

“Does that surprise you?”

“I mean, it shouldn’t. I've always… um. Just like, everything else I do in life is harder when I'm anxious, so I guess the same goes for this. So are you saying the key to managing this is to just what, be happy?”

“That's an overly simplistic way of looking at it. No one can, or should, be happy all the time. But I believe that addressing the root cause of your own fear and anxiety may be the best course of action.”

“Wait, so this is still just like, normal therapy? Talking about my feelings and not like. Doing tests? Taking samples?”

“Yes, James. My therapist practice isn't some front for Atypical coaching, it's still therapy. It's simply that effective therapy for Atypicals is necessarily holistic - better mental health leads to better control over abilities, which improves living conditions, which in turn improves mental health.”

“But there’s got to be more to it? Like, you talk like there’s a whole science to studying Atypicals. Do you not have some kind of like. Um. Lab?”

Danny was not a fan of his voice crack at the end there.

“I don’t personally believe that is necessary, James. There is already a wealth of evidence on psychic-type abilities to reference. This is talking therapy.”

“Okay. So we just, what, talk about my anxiety at school? And boom, I’m cured?”

“‘Curing’ is not a model I subscribe to, James. You are not sick. What I’m here to help you with is control. But there are other things we can do, besides addressing your mental health.” She adjusted her glasses. “I find that discussing my patients’ experience of their abilities often yields fruit in opening up new ways to control them. Would you be up for that kind of discussion?”

Dangerous territory. You’re not a fucking ‘Atypical’, Danny, you’re dead.

What if the way he described his abilities was totally unheard of for the Doctor? What would she even make of that? He didn’t know the first thing about the people he was trying to mimic.

Play it cool, play it cool. You’re a scared little mutant with one inconvenient power, in a world full of scared little mutants with inconvenient powers.

“Um. Sure? But uh, I don’t know what’s normal. Like, how do other people describe their abilities? Actually, I know nothing at all about like… typical Atypicals. If that makes sense?”

“I'd encourage you not to dwell too much on being a ‘normal’ Atypical. It is, after all, a bit of a contradiction.”

Unhelpful, Doc.

“But I want to know about Atypicals in general! So I can know what's me-weird and what's Atypical-weird. Like, when do people get their powers? How many are there? How long have they been around? How does no one know about them?”

“Let's see… ability onset is incredibly varied, with some manifesting in utero, and some not developing until well into adulthood, though those are edge-cases. It is somewhat typical for abilities to onset at puberty or during teenage years. It's very hard to estimate numbers. Recent studies put it as high as four percent of the population-”

“Four percent?!”

“-but that is skewed in multiple directions: on the one hand, many people with abilities live in secret; on the other, some abilities are so mild as to not register as much more than unusual talents or intuition. I have a colleague who thinks as many as twenty percent of Olympians may be low-level Atypicals. Atypical abilities aren't strictly binary, but scalar, and cover a wide range of power and disruption. In terms of the number of people with abilities either powerful enough to be noticeable, or to cause problems in someone's life? Maybe one in one in five hundred people?

“And as far as we're aware, there have always been Atypicals. More than one time traveler has witnessed them at the dawn of human history.”

“... time travelers?”

She smiled. “Yes, James.”

“Doesn't that cause huge issues with like, the timeline? Paradoxes, evil futures?”

“Most abilities aren't powerful enough to disrupt the universe, and have some inbuilt fail-safes. Most time travelers, for instance, can only witness the past, not influence it. And the future is nearly always mutable.”

“That's… wild, actually.”

“It's certainly fascinating. But to bring us back again: how would you feel about discussing your ability with me in more depth?”

“I mean, what is there to discuss? I don't even do anything.”

Doctor Bright set her notebook on the table. “I want you to close your eyes for a second.”

Danny did so.

“Where's a place you frequently find yourself anxious?”

“School. Especially in crowds.”

“Okay. I want you to picture yourself in school. The bell has gone, and it's the crush between lessons. Your ability is influencing those around you, making them fear and distrust you.”

“Okay.”

“Could you describe what emotions you feel? Besides anxiety?”

“Um. Is ‘fuck off’ an emotion?”

He heard Doctor Bright let out a slight huff, as if amused. “I daresay it is. Describe it to me.”

“Like I want everyone out of my personal space, and the more they get in my face, the worse it gets, until I want to fucking bite anything that comes near my face.”

“How does this feeling move around you? Does it come from an outside source, or from within you, projected outwards?”

“Oh, the second one, for sure. Like I want a gust of wind to push everyone around me away from me.”

“If this feeling were visible, what would it look like? A gas, a liquid? Is it slow, fast-?”

“It's green. Toxic green.”

“Okay. I now want you to picture yourself alone, somewhere you feel calm. It can be a real place, or imaginary. Think about what it looks like. Imagine the sounds, if there are any. Think about your body in the space - are you sitting, standing, lying down? Think about the temperature, the smells…”

Easy. The roof of the observatory, on a clear night - he imagined it clearer than possible, really, in Amity. The Milky Way stretched thick and dense overhead, the constellations large and proud. The air was cool and fresh, a slight breeze blowing through his hair. He wasn’t sure what color it should be.

As Doctor Bright talked, it became more real, more solid. Her voice started to fade into the background, and his awareness of the office started to dull. He tried to lean into that fact, and not let it scare him.

The concrete sloped under where he was sitting, to the gutter below him. Small weeds and flowers grew from it, and moths flittered about, attracted to his soft glow.

Doctor Bright invited him to imagine a loved one, someone he felt safe with. He couldn’t pick one, so now Sam, Tucker and Jazz all sat with him, pressing on either side.

He couldn’t remember how they should smell. But he could remember that Sam’s perfume always reminded him of smoke.

A lone car rumbled by. An owl called.

His chest was a gaping wound, draining slick, green sludge down his front. It moved of its own accord, fingers rising and falling, surging outwards. He didn’t move, simply watching as it crawled down his stomach and up across his shoulders, grabbing and dragging itself across the others. They recoiled, sounds of dismay from their mouths and they scrabbled to escape, and the Danny of this vision didn’t move, didn’t even watch.

The ectoplasm became more violent, faster, pushing its fingers into their eyes, their mouths, stifling their screams. Tucker clawed backwards in fear, getting ever-closer to the edge, losing his balance, falling-

The vision froze. Danny held onto his friend, arresting his fall, fixing him in place. He started ripping the ectoplasm away from him, digging his real fingers into his mouth and pulling, and pulling, on and on.

He had to change the ectoplasm. Change how it looked.

It was red. No. Pink. Something between the two. And it was oily, and slick, and watery and moved according to his whim, not on its own accord. It was what held Tucker in place.

It was warm, and sweet-smelling, and giddy, and fascinating.

He turned to look at Sam and Jazz. Both were smiling, the glowing red-pink oil dripping from their bared teeth, their eyes pinned open-

Danny wrenched himself back to the office with open eyes and a gasp. “Doc, I’m not sure what-”

The Doctor was staring at him.

Her eyes were wide open, round as balls, and her pupils were totally blown. She leaned forward, way too far, but her body seemed relaxed. She breathed deep and even.

Danny stood up and stepped away from the couch. “Um. Doc? Doctor Bright? What are you doing…?”

Her posture didn’t change, but her eyes followed him, and she continued to take deep breaths. Her lips parted slightly.

“Doc, fucking, snap out of it. Doctor Bright? What are you…”

She started him down, totally entranced. The corners of her lips started to turn upwards.

Then she whispered, almost undetectable.

“Danny…”

Next thing he knew, Danny had thrown his untouched glass of water right in her face.

She spluttered and recoiled, taking in her bearings. Her eyes returned to normal.

“What. Where…?” Her eyes landed on him. “James…?”

Danny gripped his hair. “Doc, what the fuck was that? You were, I mean, it was totally freaking me out, I didn’t know what to do, oh my god you're soaked I’m so sorry, what was that?”

“James, calm down, I need you to calm-”

“What did you do? What did I do?! I’ve never done that before! Was that me? You called me- shit do you remember? Do you remember any of that? Shit.”

“James, please calm down-”

But Danny didn’t hear the rest. He ignored the receptionist, Sarah’s stunned cry (and she was also gasping, clutching her heart) as he slammed through the office door, and was halfway home before he remembered to breathe.

---

The Inbox of ‘James Jackson’

To: James Jackson

Subject: Checking In

Hello James,

Just wanted to check that you were okay and safe after our session - I could not get through to your phone.

I want to reassure you than Sarah and I are perfectly fine, and I cannot discern any noticeable ongoing side effects from the hypnosis.

While I have no memory of the experience, I know it must have been distressing for you.

I want to apologize for putting you in that position. I did not anticipate that the exploration exercise would yield such an extreme result.

Please let me know you’re okay.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

The Inbox of Joan Bright

To: Joan Bright

Subject: RE: Checking In

Hi Dr Bright. I’m safe. I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened.

Sent from my iPhone

---

The Inbox of ‘James Jackson’

To: James Jackson

Subject: RE: RE: Checking In

Hello James,

I am glad to hear it. I want to reassure you we are still on for next week. If you want an emergency session in the interim, I would be happy to oblige.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

To: James Jackson

Subject: Are you okay?

Hello James,

I am concerned that I have not heard from you since last week. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

To: James Jackson

Subject: RE: Are you okay?

Hello James,

I am following up on your missed appointment today. I am obliged to inform the school, but I do not want to do so yet, given your situation. Please let me know you’re alright.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

The Inbox of Caleb Michaels

To: Caleb Michaels

Subject: RE: Referred Patient

Hello Caleb,

I did not get a chance to discuss this with your classmate in our last session. However, I am worried, as he has not been responding to my emails, though I know he has continued to attend school.

I was going to suggest that you two begin some e-correspondence, so you could both talk without being affected by your respective abilities. I cannot share his details without his permission, so you might have to make contact in person.

Please bear in mind, he’s flighty. But I know he could do with a friend or two.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

[misscongeniality18]

Hi! Could you like to write something about reader and Peter where she knows him since forever and growing up they have fallen in love with eachother. Anyway at some point they split and later they meet again (maybe she is an FBI agent too and he asks for her help with Rose?). Then they argue because something dangerous happens so the truth? Thank you so much for your time!

I would absolutely love to! This idea is just *chef's kiss* but I hope you don't mind if I change and add a few things?

Still Falling For You, Part One - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! Peter meets another agent assigned to protect Rose, and to his surprise, it's his high school sweetheart--you. (Starts after Peter spent the night on the couch outside of Farr's office.) Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genres ! Friends-to-lovers, (sort of) enemies-to-lovers Warnings ! Angst, fluff, language, violence, no use of y/n Disclaimers ! Everything I know about the FBI is from TV shows, so this might be an unintentional crossover with Criminal Minds? Idk, it just happened Word Count - 1733

" It took us a while Because we were young and unsure With love on the line What if we both would need more But all your flaws and scars are mine Still falling for you " - Still Falling For You, Ellie Goulding

Requests are still open, but please be patient! Thank you!

Masterlist Request Guide Part Two

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After making it through a car chase, managing to stay hidden through the night, and getting Rose safely to the hotel, Farr wanted to add another agent to the detail protecting her—a personal agent in the hotel room while the Secret Service remained in the lobby.

“Think of it as a gaining a partner,” she said. “This agent is coming straight from the head office. She was top of her class and is one of the best criminal profilers on the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. POTUS was close friends with her mother, so she pulled a few strings to get her to come here on special assignment.”

As he considered it, Peter supposed it would be nice to have someone with Rose while he could go back to Night Action. If something were to happen, he would need to be there to answer the phone. Rose memorizing the phone number only proved how much she was freaked out by the situation she was in. He’d stayed on the line and talked to her through the night just to reassure her that everything would be alright.

“Here she is now,” Farr said, looking over Peter’s shoulder and calling out a familiar name, and the sound of it made his skin break out in gooseflesh.

At first, Peter thought it was just a coincidence, another agent having the same name as you. But when you stepped around the corner into the foyer of Farr’s office, Peter was spiraling backwards through time to his high school days, to a time of laughter and holding hands, to sweet kisses in the rain and feverish ones underneath the bleachers. Peter was brought back to a time before his life fell to pieces.

The two of you had grown up next door to one another, quickly becoming best friends. When Peter’s mother died, your own mother offered to help Peter’s father with taking Peter to school and basketball practices, to feed him dinner when he had to work late, to help keep order in their lives. Whenever Peter wasn’t in his own home, he would be at yours, and as you grew older, you and Peter would only grow closer.

It came as no surprise when the two of you had started dating. Your parents had even hoped it would happen. You and Peter had known each other the way no one else did. And through your relationship, you had been each other’s firsts. First kiss, first love, first everything. It was epic, but even epic things can come to an end.

When you both were sixteen, Peter’s father was arrested. The two of you had tried to get his name cleared, but then Pete Sr. died, and the rumors speculated that it was either a car accident or suicide. That had been Peter’s downfall. You had tried to be there for him, but he slowly pulled away from you. He would stay home and have cereal for dinner instead of coming to your house for a home-cooked meal. He would walk to basketball practice instead of getting a ride from you on your way to cheer practice. He would stop answering your phone calls and send you to voicemail. He even stood you up on the night of your senior prom.

Eventually, you’d had enough. You walked up to his front door and rang the bell, but he hadn’t even answered. You knew he was inside. You could see him sitting on the couch.

“Peter,” you had called out. “I know you’re struggling, but you need to talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t.”You thought that might stir him to move, but Peter hadn’t budged.

“Look, Pete, I don’t know if I can continue waiting for you. I don’t—“ You choked on your tears, and a few had managed to escape. “I don’t think we can be together anymore. I’m sorry.”

That was the first thing Peter thought of when he saw you again, the sound of you crying. He’d kept up with how you’d been after graduating high school through your mom’s posts on Facebook. He saw the pictures of your college years, of Spring Break trips and summer vacations that he no doubt would’ve been on if the two of you had stayed together.

When your mother died in an accident during your sophomore year of college, the posts stopped, and Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at your profile or even contact you. He’d felt horrible after how he treated you when his father died, and he didn’t want to add salt to the wound when your mother passed.

Even after ten years, you still managed to look as beautiful as you did back then, only more professional and grown up. Your face had sharper features, but your eyes were still soft and kind, reminding Peter of lazy summer afternoons laying in the sun. Oh, how he had loved looking into your eyes.

And now, he still couldn’t seem to look away.

Peter was surprised to see you, even more so as an FBI agent like him. You’d always had an interest in criminal justice, intending to become a lawyer after completing your undergrad, but Peter never would have guessed that you would turn to psychology and become a profiler. He supposed it might be useful for protecting Rose from the whackjobs who were after her.

“Peter,” you gaped, startled to be seeing him again.

He breathed your name, reminding you of the last time he sighed with your name on his lips, and the thought made you blush. You cleared your throat, your voice tightening. “How are you?”

He stared down at you, and it was frustrating that he was still freakishly tall. At least, compared to your height. “Um, I’m fine. You?”

“Fine.”

Diane Farr looked between the both of you with narrowed eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

You nodded.  “We grew up together.”

“And we dated,” Peter continued, and you shot him a glare. He should not be bringing up your personal history together at the workplace.

Farr raised a brow. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, ma’am. It won’t,” Peter assured, and he looked at you for confirmation.

You nodded. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Why don’t you join Peter to see Rose at the hotel?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded again, trying to keep your words to a minimum, because if you were to speak, you were afraid that you would say a lot more than you intended.

Peter led you outside to the car. You started toward the driver’s side, so used to being the one who drove whenever you were in a car with Peter. However, Peter beat you to it, and you glared at him in frustration. “So you can drive now?”

The banter between you picked up as if you’d never spent any time apart, only with more anger and hostility. “Yes, I can drive.”

As you slid into the passenger seat, you studied him, seeing the change in him from the stubborn teenager to mature and suave adult he’d grown into. You also couldn’t help but notice that he’d bulked up a little, too.

You blinked, returning to your annoyed expression. “At least I don’t have to drive you around anymore.”

“You were the one who offered. You are older than me, so you got your license first.”

You glared at him. “By only four months. Besides, you kept failing, so I had to keep driving.”

“Are we really arguing about this right now?”

“You tell me.”

Peter sighed, a grin spreading across his lips. “Still as obstinate as ever.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“And you still like to have the last word, good to know. I’m still wondering why you never followed through with becoming a lawyer.”

You swiveled your head to face him, your eyes narrowed and frightening. “Who said I didn’t?”

“So you’re a lawyer and an agent?”

“Double major in psychology and criminal justice, and I went to law school, so yes, I’m a lawyer and an agent.”

Peter shifted in his seat, his eyes checking the car’s mirrors every once in a while. He wasn’t sure what to say. You’d done more than he expected, and he couldn’t help but swell with pride over your accomplishments. After all this time, you were still amazing.

“What made you decide to become a profiler?” He asked, glancing in your direction before turning back to the road.

Your chest tightened, and your throat began to ache. “My mom.”

“You mean her accident?”

You clasped your hands together in your lap, head lowered. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“What?”

The car jerked as Peter spun to face you. You grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle as you cried, “Watch it, Peter!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, correcting himself and the vehicle. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “She was killed in a bank robbery. Two unsubs, a classic case of a dominant and submissive. She tried to talk one of them down, but he shot her instead. She talked to the submissive, who would’ve done anything for the dominant’s approval—“

You caught sight of Peter staring at you as he pulled up to the hotel and put the car into park. “I studied the security camera’s footage after I joined the BAU. I won’t go into the technical details to bother you, but my boss wasn’t happy that I was looking into cases without permission. He let it slide though, as long as I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

Peter grinned at you, the same mischievous smile that would make your heart flutter when you were younger. “Still have that rebellious streak, huh?”

You refused to let the blush form on your cheeks, but you still bit your lip in embarrassment.

Peter noticed that little action, and it still drove him crazy. He cleared his throat, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Are you ready to meet Rose?”

You nodded. “What’s she like?”

Peter smiled again, and the butterflies filled you once again. “For as well as I know you, I have a feeling that the two of you would be nothing but twin pains in my ass.”

You quirked your lips in a smirk. “There is nothing I would enjoy more.”

Yeah, I rolled with this idea and didn't want to make it too long, so it's going to need a part two.

[absolutebl]

I kinda fell out of the BL game the last several months thanks to irl things, but I think I'm finally feeling like wading fully back in. I started with Love Syndrome III(only because @heretherebedork piqued my interest) and just finished Moonlight Chicken. What should I watch next? My limits are romanticized sexual assault, cheating, miscommunication as a main plot point, and no HEA. I could also do without a straight side couple, but I'd tolerate it if the main plot and couple are really good. Bonus points if there's a D/s dynamic, but that's not 100% necessary.

Thanks ❤️

Best of 2023 So Far?

Of course darling!

Hum last several months? Let's see...

Our Dating Sim (Viki) - if you haven't watched this it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. I can't tell you how much I loved this show (or have already rewatched it). It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. Full review.

The New Employee (Viki) - just so good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also... Rainbow Rice Cakes and found fam and a lesbian bestie and all the goodness. My review is on MDL.

The Eighth Sense (Viki) - speaking of queer, this one is a bit rough (sticky and gritty), more in the Moonlight Chicken area. But very high quality, fabulous chemistry, and a remarkably complex offering for a KBL - think Blueming-esk but even better.

Unintentional Love Story (iQIYI) - @heretherebedork and I LOVED this one, but it is kinda hard to get hold of. I found the seme a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (who plays the uke) is a fucking GIFT. He has THE MOST expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict tension and pressure is complex and excellent plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). Review on MDL.

My School President (YouTube) - I adored this one! My favorite GMMTV offering in dog's age, and my new favorite pair GeminiFourth. It could have gotten a 10/10 from me but for too much singing. This is the side pair from Moonlight Chicken anchoring a high school BL full of the most teenage pining ever and it's GREAT.

All the Liquors (Viki, Gaga) - another KBL hitting hard and solid. This one is KBL-weird in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut (which I've gotten used to, but is kinda a "type" now). It will wig you out if you have any baggage around alcohol. The logic behind the phobias are typically Asian romance qua? BUT it's still quite cute.

Never Let Me Go (YT) - of GMMTV handing out new series to established pairs this has been the most successful IMHO. PondPhuwin were about 10000x better in this than FUTS (and that's FUTS's fault, not theirs). It's typically Thai in that its a bit bloated and has a confusing plot, but at least it HAD a plot and the central relationship is solid and loyal. Their Our Skyy 2 follow up is also good. And very much adds to the cannon in a fun way rather than feeling superfluous - making this show ultimately 14 eps rather than the usual 12.

Bed Friend (YT, iQIYI, Gaga) - speaking of a bit bloated, this one derailed somewhat in plot for me (even at 10 eps) but NetJames really are glorious, and absolutely the hottest and the prettiest of 2023. Full of triggers for childhood abuse and sexual assault (backstory), but the main pair is very communication-heavy and based on a fuck buddy premise which has negotiation and everything, unique & fun to see. This is my high heat rec for the year so far, because the heat is PART OF THE PLOT and that's a gift we don't usually get. Review on MDL.

Between Us (iQIYI) - I'm still processing this one. I didn't have as high expectations as most but it was still a little disappointing. BounPrem are lovely of course, but somehow it just wasn't quite what I wanted. I did a watch along for this one so you can see me struggle. However, objectively, held up against other BLs? It's actually pretty darn good.

I hope some of these you haven't seen. None have romanticized sexual assault, cheating, or miscommunication as a main plot point (hum... maybe Between Us? Honestly I can't remember the plot points, it was all over the place), and all have HEA (this is me after all(.

[steddieas-shegoes]

This was a request from @lilonsnitch which is what started me opening up requests. This is the only request I’m posting for now because I had already done some of it, so this was just a quick thing. I HOPE YOU LOVE IT ❤️

Modern Migraine Steve / Part 2

Steve was having a no good, very bad day.

It started fine. Great, even.

He woke up in Eddie’s arms, he showered in Eddie’s arms, he even ate breakfast in Eddie’s arms.

When he left Eddie’s arms is when shit went downhill fast.

He had a dentist appointment he’d been putting off for months. Nothing major, just a cavity that needed filling.

The excessive drilling must have sent signals to his brain to render him useless, though. His head was pounding, and he knew within the next hour, he’d need to be in a dark room with no noise.

But he had work. And he missed a day last week because of a migraine.

It’s not that he was worried about money. Eddie seemed to have plenty, and no matter what Steve did, he rarely let him pay for anything.

But he liked his job. He liked his coworkers for the most part.

He liked having something to do.

But he knew there was no way he could work if this headache turned into a migraine, and statistically it would, though he was never good at statistics in high school.

So he drove back home, pissed off and in enough pain to want to cry already.

Eddie was sitting at the desk in the office when Steve walked in the back entrance to the bar, texting back and forth with someone furiously.

Steve wordlessly walked over to him, pushed him away from the desk, and sat down in his lap with his head on his shoulder.

Eddie’s arms wrapped around him and Steve felt himself relax.

His head wasn’t magically healed, but just having Eddie there was enough for him to hold the tension off for a bit longer.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

“Head.”

“Should go upstairs before it gets worse, love.”

“Wanna be with you.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head before he moved his arms away for a moment, probably to check his phone again, and bring them back to rest on the small of Steve’s back.

“Amber’s sick and Carly’s got class. I might have to work the bar tonight.”

He spoke softly against the top of Steve’s head, quieter than he normally would be to make sure it didn’t bother Steve’s head too much.

Steve couldn’t quite contain the whine he let out, but Eddie quickly kissed the top of his head again and ran his fingers up and down his spine slowly to keep him relaxed.

“I’m trying to get Darren to come in, but he has his daughters this weekend.” Eddie sighed. “Let me bring you upstairs and get you settled, okay?”

Eddie had already worked four nights this week from Amber being sick and it being busier than usual. It was starting to wear on him a bit as he was usually working for most of the day in the office and receiving deliveries. Steve could tell he was stressed.

He didn’t want to add to that stress.

He pulled away, wincing at the pain shooting up his neck at the sudden movement.

“I’m okay. You work,” Steve said, standing up slowly to avoid any more shooting pains.

Eddie stood too, pulling Steve against him before he could stumble away.

“Hey. You’re not a burden, so stop thinking you are,” Eddie muttered against his temple, ending his sentence with a kiss.

It was fucking weird how he always did that. Steve was sort of worried he could read his mind, but honestly, there wasn’t much he didn’t tell him anyways.

Pretty much since the first day, the day he’d handed him water with lemon slices on the side because he could tell he had a headache, Eddie just knew him. Inside and out.

“Can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, sweetheart. But I’m here.”

Like that was simple. Like Steve was used to it.

Even six months into their relationship he wasn’t.

Some mornings he woke up in bed alone and thought Eddie had finally come to his senses, completely forgetting that he was in Eddie’s bed, in Eddie’s apartment, in Eddie’s bar.

Some nights when Eddie had to work the bar, he was convinced he would come home and kick him out.

He had no reason for thinking these things; Eddie was incredible.

He was patient and caring and loving and kind. He was perfect.

But Steve had doubts, especially when he had migraines and Eddie had to take care of him.

Eddie started to lead him away from the desk and towards the stairs that led to the apartment.

Every step felt jarring, his head pounding along when his feet hit the steps.

When they made it into the apartment, Eddie picked him up and carried him to the bedroom, ignoring Steve’s protests.

He set him down on the bed gently, kissing his forehead and quickly leaving to follow the routine: water, ice pack, pills. Later: hot shower, head massage, sleep.

It was second nature to them both now, and Steve was grateful even if he was worried that he was too needy like this.

When Eddie had him tucked into bed, ice pack covering his head and water within reach, he leaned down to place a kiss to his lips.

“Love you. Text me if you need me,” Eddie whispered against his mouth.

“Mkay,” Steve said around a yawn.

He knew he’d wake up to soft kisses from Eddie, arms under his neck and legs to carry him to the bathroom for a hot shower. He knew Eddie would wash his hair, gently scratching his scalp to ease some of the pain. He knew Eddie would dry him off, dress him in his comfy clothes, and tuck him back into bed, curling around him to keep him safe.

He knew Eddie would do all of that because no one had ever loved Steve the way Eddie did.

(I did technically have a tag list for if this ‘verse ever got continued so here you go  @urallidjits @eddiemunsonswife)

[myapathyhaspeaked]

Platonic Sides Week Day 1: Found Family

They weren’t related.

Yes they all had the same last name. Yes they all looked remarkably similar. Yes they all went to the same high school, the same college, and currently lived in the same apartment. But they weren’t related.

Okay, two of them were related. But that was it.

The Sanders, as they had gotten used to being called, were enjoying a relaxing Saturday at home. It was approaching evening, the setting sun flooding in through the windows and giving everything a golden glow. 

Virgil squinted as the light reached the perfect angle to reflect off one of Patton’s little glass trinkets and hit him in the eye, combining unpleasantly with sitting in front of the computer for the past three hours. Logan was beside him, having pulled one of the dining chairs next to the desk in order to help his friend find a job. The emo was beginning to wish he had gone into something easier, like marketing, though he was pretty sure working a corporate office job would be the death of him. He had gone for a sound production degree, however, in hopes that one day he’d be able to work for a band he enjoyed, so now he was scrolling ad nauseam for a sound editing gig of any kind. You’d think it would be easy; just type in a few keywords into the browser and hit search, but no. He couldn’t even go three LinkedIn links without finding a “we can’t pay money but we would be the perfect jumping off point for your career”.

He had initially asked his friend to assist him with figuring out how applying for a job with actual career aspects worked, because the only occupations he had had so far were stuff cashiering and waiting, stuff that didn’t require a resume or references. Logan had taught him how to format one, what information to include, how to word everything for pique the most interest in whoever, or nowadays probably whatever bot, was reading his application. The assistance eventually evolved to include keeping him calm as thoughts of perpetual unemployment and failure began to fill his mind. He’d have to add “tactile fidget tools most effective at preventing nail biting” to his Virgil journal. 

The constant clicking sound of the scroll wheel was interrupted by the sudden sound of the twins shouting in the adjacent sitting area. It seemed that despite what they usually claimed, they actually did have something in common: an almost inhuman competitiveness when it came to Mario Kart. Just an hour ago they had been strongly encouraged (by the threat of putting carrots in their dinner) to keep quiet so Virgil could stay on the verge of having a migraine instead of having one, but apparently this argument was important enough to risk having their meals being tainted.

Logan twisted so he could see better, and noticed that the television was turned off.

“You cheating, scum sucking, deranged son of a bitch!” Roman yelled as he shoved his hand over his brother’s mouth, trying to silence his raucous cackling.

“Wow, what a nice thing to call your mother,” Remus snickered after licking Roman’s hand, causing his brother to immediately gag and rush to wipe the saliva off on the couch. He muttered profanely as he rummaged in the side drawer for a bottle of sanitizer. 

“Hey now, there’s no need for such potty language,” Patton chimed in from the kitchen, where he had just put the dinner rolls in the oven. 

“Ooh, someone’s in trouble,” Remus grinned at his brother, wiggling his shoulders mischievously as he frowned at him. He should honestly just be glad he didn’t start scream-singing Smash Mouth’s “All Star.”

“He turned off the TV so I wouldn’t win!” Roman protested, sending Virgil reaching for some tylenol at the outburst. Noticing this, Janus made a show of grabbing a carrot from the fridge and grabbing a knife, holding them up so the brothers could see them like he had the remote control to a bomb and was threatening to destroy the city. At least a bomb had the potential to be fun, in Remus’ opinion anyway. 

“Jan, come on, don’t be like that!” Remus whined, clasping his hands together to beg as his friend placed the vegetable on the cutting board with a purposefully loud thud. “We promise to chill for a whole fifteen minutes, okay? Just put the dildo plant down.” Patton winced at the vulgarity but had mercy on them, reaching over to put the carrot back in the fridge. He wasn’t sure why they had even bought it. None of them liked carrots.

Janus let out a dramatic sigh and returned to stirring the caramelizing onions so they wouldn’t burn. Usually Patton was the only one involved in preparing dinner, besides the few small jobs he sometimes delegated to the others (the twins were banned from anything with heat), but Janus had gotten his law school homework done early enough to come home an hour before he usually did. Despite Patton’s protests that he really didn’t need help and that he wasn’t that tired from his frankly awful day working at the daycare, Janus managed to force his way into the kitchen with a bit of persuasion. Mainly reminding him that there was no glory in suffering, no matter what his teachers in catholic school taught him growing up. 

Virgil tried to return to his search, but even with the pain medication his eyes were starting to strain, all the letters turning into one big squiggle that might as well have spelled out “sorry, but you’re really not what we’re looking for” as far as his growing anxiety was concerned. Logan noticed him gripping the mouse tighter, and out of concern for both his friend and the plastic, put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil snapped around to look at him, eyes wide like he had just been pulled out of an awful world that only consisted of blue light and filling out information that was already on his resume. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the smell of baking bread as it filled his nose, anything that wasn’t the job search, but one can only focus on a smell for so long.

“How about we go set the table?” Logan asked, getting up from his chair before he could respond.

“But the applications! I haven’t finished a single one!” Virgil fretted, still following him to where he was taking plates out of a cabinet. He opened a drawer and began counting out forks. Patton noticed and nodded his thanks before turning back to plating the baked potatoes.

“And in this state I doubt you’ll be any good at filling one out,” Logan stated bluntly, trying to be comforting in his own Logan way as he placed plates in their proper place on the table. “You need a break. If you feel the need, you can get back to it after dinner, or I can help you tomorrow.” Lord knows Virgil would stay up until 2 AM with or without the stress, but Logan actually respected his circadian rhythm. 

Virgil frowned, still feeling like he was wasting valuable time, but nodded as he set out the cutlery. He looked over to the twins, and they had gone back to playing Mario Kart. Though they had left the normal game mode and were now doing the challenges. Roman’s face grew almost as red as his fashion statement of a belt as one of his balloons was popped by a dastardly red shell, courtesy of his brother obviously, but he didn’t yell. It seemed that though the threat of being made to consume carrots was no longer imminent, they were still trying to make good on their promise to be quiet, if not out of integrity then probably out of concern for what Janus would do instead. No one wanted a repeat of the Shoe Incident. Don’t ask. Janus had them all sign NDAs.

Remus was biting his lip so hard in his struggle to stay silent that they were beginning to bleed slightly, but he just licked it away. He almost launched himself into the side table as he leaned unnecessarily in time with his go-kart’s sharp turn. 

Soon dinner was ready, and Patton called them to the table as he set out the food.

They weren’t related, for the most part.

But they still sat at the table every Saturday evening, chowing down on lovingly homemade food as they chatted about their weeks, the stress fading away, even if just for a moment, as the air filled with old inside jokes. And in their opinion, it was better than any of their “real” family dinners had ever been.

---

@platonicsidesweek

[vaguekayla]

Dancing With Your Ghost • Eddie Munson

a/n: oh god, I haven’t actually written anything in years and the first thing I decide to tackle is Eddie Munson. I must be a glutton for punishment or something. Inspired by Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan. Dedicated to @buckysdollforlife because we are constantly sharing stories with each other so I thought why not share one of my own. Especially since you’re the biggest Eddie fan I know. Also dedicated to @luveline because June Baby melts my heart and gave me the Eddie bug. Seriously go check out her work. Pretty sure I gave myself more trauma with this shit, but whatever. They say in order to create art, you must be willing to bleed.

Updated author’s note: I wrote this almost two years ago completely forgot about it then remembered it only for my self doubt to keep me from posting, but here we are!

Summary: You grieve the loss of your boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

Trigger Warning: angst, character death, slight spoilers for season four maybe. (Let me know if I should add any others.) Not proofread.

Meeting Eddie Munson was something of a coincidence. It wasn’t planned nor was it something you ever contemplated.

The metalhead would one day tell you that he believed the two of you meeting was destiny.

By some happen stance, Dustin needed a ride from a Dungeons and Dragons campaign one night and though he had asked Steve, somehow it ended up being you to pick him up.

It wasn’t anything special about meeting Eddie that night. It was a pretty normal evening.

You were a little late picking up Dustin because it was such a sudden change of plans, so Eddie had waited outside the school with him until you got there.

Dustin introduced you to one another and you both exchanged a few words, but nothing worthy enough to take note of.

Your next ‘meeting’ of sorts is what really made you capture Eddie’s attention.

You really hadn’t planned on coming to Hawkins High on your lunch break just because Dustin forgot his English textbook. What could you say though? You’d grown attached to the kid in the last few years. Him and his friends.

You’d always help them out when they asked. Even when it was something as stupid as a forgotten schoolbook.

But this made three times this week.

After stopping by the office, you’d started to make your way to the cafeteria. You had graduated just last year, so it’s not like you didn’t know where everything was. The cafeteria was loud, not surprising, and you thanked every god you could think of that you were done with this hellhole.

Finding Dustin was easy. His curly hair was unmistakable and his laugh just called for attention.

Whatever he was saying to the group he ate lunch with was cut off by the slam of his textbook as you dropped it front of him over his head.

“You forget that thing any more this week, I’m gonna start charging a delivery fee,” your voice rang out behind him.

There was a teasing lilt to your words, but it didn’t erase the sheepish smile Dustin flashed your way as he turned to look at you.

“Sorry. I’ve just been super excited about this campaign that Eddie’s been telling us about all week and I keep forgetting to grab it. It won’t happen again,” the teen rushed out his apology.

He looked around at Lucas and Mike to back him up, all three rapidly nodding their heads to try and convince you.

You fondly rolled your eyes because you knew it would indeed happen again, but you didn’t really mind.

“So, you’re the reason I’ve been missing my lunch breaks all week, Munson?” an eyebrow rose in the direction of the group leader.

“What? No. I’m not responsible for—”

Eddie cut himself off as he noticed the amused look on your face, letting him know you weren’t actually mad.

The smile you had reflected on the metalhead’s face as he realized you were just teasing.

“What can I say? Storming the gates of Waterdeep is way more fun than reading ‘Hamlet’,” Eddie teased you with a self-satisfied smirk.

The rest of the table all nodded and murmured in agreement, the three youngest imploring you to understand with their pleading eyes.

“It’s fine,” you promised Dustin, assuring him you weren’t upset, “I’d just like to actually eat lunch on my lunch break.”

You exchanged a few more words with the table, being introduced to Gareth, Jeff, and another upper classman whose name you didn’t quite catch.

Checking your watch, you were about to say your goodbyes and go back to work, when you heard your name being called.

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes as you watched Jason Carver walk up to you. The smile on his face unsettled you in ways you couldn’t explain.

Jason had spent an entire school year trying to get you to go out with him before you graduated. You never agreed as there was just something about the guy that always rubbed you the wrong way. Hearing from Dustin and Mike that he and his friends had a habit of bullying their group didn’t help change your opinion about Jason. If you remembered correctly, he had been dating Chrissy Cunnigham since the summer.

That didn’t seem to stop him from making a point to come over and try to chat with you. Even if your break wasn’t coming to an end, you still wouldn’t stick around for that.

“Jason,” you greeted him politely, tense tone that the teen didn’t appear to pick up.

“Haven’t seen you since you graduated. How have you been?”

“Been fine. Working.”

You hoped short answers would be obvious enough to let on that you really didn’t want to talk. Apparently, you overestimated Jason’s intelligence because he just kept talking.

Being rude was something you hated, but you really did have to go.

“Look, this is… great,” you hesitated to use any positive word, “but I really have to get back to work. I just came to bring Dustin his textbook.”

It seemed Jason only just noticed by your words what table you were standing at. His friendly smile dropped as he looked from each table member then back to you.

Any normal person would have tried to be discreet with what was said next, but not Jason. No, never Jason.

Because Jason was a world class jackass.

“You know, I’m a little worried about you if these are the kinds of people you hang out with.”

“’These kinds of people’?” you questioned, brows furrowed.

You weren’t stupid. You had heard the stories from Mike and Dustin, but you wanted to know if Jason was really dumb enough to make this kind of a scene in a public school cafeteria.

Turns out he was. No surprise there.

“Freaks,” he answered as if it was obvious, no hesitation in his response.

If Jason noticed the way your jaw clenched, he didn’t say anything. Dustin noticed though because he subtly took hold of your hand closest to him in an attempt to keep you calm.

It wasn’t a secret you had a temper especially when provoked.

The gentle squeeze on your fingers from Dustin was enough to remind yourself not to let your anger get the best of you.

Eddie noticed your shift in attitude as well and was about to intervene when you spoke up.

“Jason, I know your pea sized brain can’t possibly comprehend this, but just because someone is different from you doesn’t mean that it’s a bad thing,” you went to take a step forward, but Dustin’s grip held you back.

It was probably for the best anyway.

“I don’t know what the hell makes you think you have the right to judge people who aren’t like you and your brain-dead teammates, but nothing gives you the right to be an asshole to people you don’t even know.”

You hadn’t noticed but you had gained some attention from the other cafeteria goers with your small rant.

Maybe your words had stunned him or maybe he just wasn’t expecting you to say something like that, but Jason didn’t say anything for a moment.

When he finally did, it was the stupidest thing you had ever heard in your life.

“Girls shouldn’t curse.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. Out of all the things he could have said, it had to be something like that.

“Get fucked,” you immediately replied, before turning away from him and back to the table.

You softly pulled your hand from Dustin’s grasp as you looked down at him in his seat. He was hesitant to let go until you gave him a smile to assure him you were alright.

You murmured a quiet goodbye to the table, ruffling Mike’s hair affectionately.

“Don’t forget that book tomorrow,” you pointed a finger at Dustin with a smile before you left the cafeteria and the school.

You never noticed the look of awe that followed you from one Eddie Munson.

Meeting Eddie may have been a game of chance. Falling in love with him, on the other hand, seemed to be some divine decree. That’s what you both liked to think anyway.

“It’s written in the stars,” he would say.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was made to love you and you him.

Later in your relationship he would go on to tell you that he loved you ever since that day in the cafeteria. That he was so incredibly grateful that Dustin had forgotten his English book that day.

It just took him a while to actually get up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Technically, he never asked you. He had slipped you a note. Being Eddie, though, it wasn’t a normal note.

Going to drug dealers was not something you made a habit out of. We’re just going to make that clear right now.

Steve was throwing a small party and had wanted to add marijuana on top of the alcohol that he was going to have. The only problem was that the guy he normally bought from had moved away.

It was no secret that Eddie sold drugs. He brought the lunch box with him to school, for crying out loud.

Having developed a friendship with the metalhead, Steve had asked if you could buy from Eddie for the party and you didn’t exactly say ‘no’.

You didn’t mind, it just wasn’t something you had done a lot before.

Pulling up to the trailer Eddie lived in with his uncle was a familiar thing. You’d gone there with Eddie on nights that his band played, to watch movies together, just to hang out. You’ve been there many times.

Just not as one of Eddie’s customers.

It almost seemed to catch him off guard when he swung the door open and you told him the reason for your visit.

He was more than happy to sell to you though.

Only, as he was getting the weed ready for you, he seemed to be acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.

He appeared hesitant as he handed you the bag just as you held the money out to him.

“Thanks, Eddie. I really appreciate it,” you smiled at him.

“Yeah, of course. It’s no problem.”

“We’re still on for movie night tomorrow?”

“If you still want to, absolutely,” he nodded his head.

You gave him a slightly confused look, “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders in response, and you wanted to ask him if something was wrong.

“Don’t you have a party to get to?” he changed the subject.

Glancing down at your watch, you realized you had been at his house a little longer than you intended.

“Yeah,” you agreed, slipping the bag in your back pocket and wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

His arms were quick to wrap around you and hug back, squeezing a little tighter than usual.

“Go on before you’re too late,” he smiled at you.

You made a mental note to ask about his odd behavior tomorrow.

“See you tomorrow night,” you promised him, slipping outside and heading to your car.

You took the bag of weed out of your pocket and tossed it in the passenger seat so you wouldn’t sit on it.

Just as you were about to crank the car, something caught your attention. You had to turn the map light on to see better.

‘Want to go out on a date?’

The words were inked in black marker onto the bag Eddie had just handed you.

It took your brain a minute to fully register the words. Your body was quick to move and you sprinted from the car, up the stairs, and started knocking furiously on the front door.

As soon as Eddie opened the door, you held the bag up for him to see. Your eyes held a silent question, ‘Do you mean it?’

His right hand came up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly as he nodded his head, and you couldn’t help but admire the bats permanently etched onto his skin. You wanted to trace every bit of ink his skin held.

“Yes,” you suddenly broke the silence.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.

Your feet carried you through the threshold of the door to right in front of him, hands itching to take his.

“Yes,” you reaffirmed your answer.

The smile that he gave you right then and there would forever be one of your favorite memories.

Loving him came so natural to you that when you first entertained the notion, you were filled with both a sense of peace and terror.

Peace because being around him was so easy. He never made you feel like you had to put on a face or hide behind a mask like you did with so many others. It was a sentiment that he had shared with you one late night.

Terror because no one had ever made you feel the way he did. Eddie brought out a side of you that no other had. You had never loved anyone so passionately and deep as you had your beloved metalhead.

That’s why his death was so hard on you. Because you knew that you would never feel for anyone the way you did Eddie.

The days following his death were a mixture of emotions. Grief being obvious.

Some days you would rage at the universe. Cursing whatever higher power saw fit to put Eddie in your path and allow you to love him. Then you would break down into sobs of guilt for feeling even the slightest regret about any of your time with him. You understood that it was just another part of the grief. There wasn’t a moment you would trade and the regret you felt was for not having more time.

It just didn’t feel fair that the universe would give him to you and then allow him to die.

Allow him to be so cruelly taken from you.

The only positive thought was the picture you had in your head of his eternal afterlife.

You would never claim to be anything of an expert of the subject, but you liked to think he was doing whatever made him happy.

Performing his music. Playing Dungeons and Dragons. Idly strumming his beloved guitar on his bed while a joint of rolled up weed hung from his lips.

There were people you had lost before so you knew time had an effect on memories of loved ones no longer around.

Photographs allowed you to see the dearly departed but other things would fade from your mind.

Soon you would forget the sound of his voice. The way his laugh sounded. The look of excitement and pride every time he finally nailed a riff in a song that took him ages to get. The smell of his cologne and a musk that was just him, a faint smell of weed clinging to him. You always told him you didn’t need alcohol or drugs because his intoxicating scent was the best high you ever felt.

You never wanted anything about Eddie to fade as life went on, so you replayed ever memory you had of him every day.

It would never be the same though and there would never be a time where you didn’t miss him.

Your first kiss played in your mind on many occasions.

You were just hanging out like normal. Eddie had taken you out on your first date the night before. It wasn’t some grand first date, but it meant everything to you.

He had taken you out to eat some greasy food and then to some movie. You don’t remember what movie as neither of you had paid attention to it after the first fifteen minutes. You just stayed and sneakily threw popcorn at some fellow movie goers until you got kicked out by security.

Your hang out turned into a movie night which was meant to make up for the movie you both didn’t watch the previous night.

“You want to stay the night?” Eddie suddenly asked as the end credits from the second movie of the night started to roll.

“Mmhm.”

You nodded your head that rested against his shoulder, eyelids beginning to feel heavy. You didn’t want to go to sleep yet. The night was perfect, in your opinion, and you didn’t want it to end. It couldn’t if you just stayed awake.

Eddie must have noticed your struggle though.

One of his hands came up to brush against your cheek. You allowed yourself to lean into his touch in your sleepy state.

“Hey,” his voice murmured softly. “We can go to sleep now if you want.”

You looked up at him bleary-eyed, brain taking a moment to fully register what he had said.

“Are you sure? There’s still one more movie you wanted to watch,” you questioned.

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips and you almost hated how easily he could make your heart flutter. Almost.

“Sweetheart, you can barely keep your eyes open. If I put the last movie in, you won’t make it through the previews,” he pointed out.

You wanted to object to his words, but a yawn interrupted you and just proved Eddie’s point. He raised his eyebrows at you as if to say, “I told you so”.

Nodding your head in agreement and a quiet ‘okay’, Eddie turned the television off and helped your tired form to your feet. He was kind enough to let you lean up against him as he walked you both back to his bedroom. Just as he was about to cross into his room, your voice stopped his feet’s movements.

“What was that?”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you repeated your words, face pressed into his neck.

He smiled down at you, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You made a move to press a kiss against his cheek, but your movement caught his attention and he turned his head to see what you were doing. Which caused your kiss to miss his cheek and land directly on his lips.

Whatever sleepiness you felt almost immediately disappeared as you jumped back like you’d been shocked. Both of you stared wide-eyed at each other.

“Sorry,” you began to profusely apologize, “I was just trying to—”

Eddie was quick to cut you off as one of his hands went around the back of your neck, the other cupping your cheek, and pulled you into a deep kiss.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him closer while you kissed him back. He matched your passion by pulling you as close to him as physically possible. He held you like you’d slip away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

In the future, you would always tell him that you adored when he held you like that. It made you feel so loved. He would then say that he would always love you like that. That he couldn’t imagine a time in his life when he wouldn’t be in love with you.

Nights tended to be the hardest. There were times where the mere thought of going to bed without him was too much to bear.

In those moments, you would pull on his jacket and wrap your arms around yourself. The record player would play the song you two always danced together to.

If you really tried, you could almost pretend he was holding you and swaying you both to the music.

He’d always do that when you had a bad day. Occasionally you could swear that you heard him whispering in your ear.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

He would say it to you so softly.

It was something that he said so often to you on your off days. Eddie always wanted you to know that whatever it was you were feeling, he wasn’t going anywhere.

That was when you were so cruelly reminded that his promise was one he hadn’t been able to keep.

You were only reminded that he wasn’t there anymore.

You were very good at reminding yourself of all the things you didn’t do or wouldn’t get to share with Eddie anymore. Perhaps it was the guilt you carried around with you at not doing something to help him.

It’s not like you could do anything. You weren’t even there when he died.

You had been with Robin, Nancy, and Steve at the time of your boyfriend’s tragic death.

It wasn’t your first decision, but Nancy had pointed out they could use all the help possible to kill Vecna. Eddie, while not liking the idea of you walking straight into Vecna’s base of operations, wasn’t very fond of you being in on the decoy for the demobats.

Damn bats.

You wished you had been there now.

Maybe you could have done something different. Something to hold the bats off long enough until it was over. Or maybe you could have done something to help Eddie until you all were able to get him to a hospital.

That wasn’t fair to yourself though and the brown eyed boy you love would tell you the same thing.

God, how you wanted to scream at him for being a hero. How you hated him for being so reckless and leaving you like he did.

But you didn’t hate him.

You couldn’t.

How could you hate him for being so selfless as to put his life in danger just to give you, Steve, Robin, and Nancy a few extra minutes?

Details would fade with time.

The cocky grin on his face when he thought he had someone beat in Dungeons and Dragons. The exact shade of brown of his eyes. How his finger’s felt when he lightly traced soft patterns into your skin. Even how your name sounded falling from his lips.

There was nothing you could do against the ravages of time. Everything fell victim by its cruel hands.

But you don’t think you would ever truly forget the boy who you fell so deeply in love with.

How could you ever forget him?

[crazyk-imagine]

Being Steve's Childhood Friend Headcanon

A/N: This was just something fun to write and I could not get it out of my head

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- You've known Steve for too damn long, or at least that's what you tell Danny when you first meet him

- Danny is interested in you, everyone can tell

- You don’t want to admit it but you also find yourself drawn to him

- Also, admitting it would make it real (and you don’t want to lose the bet)

- You’ve got big bucks coming your way if Danny asks you out first (which you’re of course thinking of putting towards your future date or a new tie. He seems like he’d like another)

- You try to be a people person but that doesn’t mean they always like you

- Speaking of, when you met his kids, they loved you and thought you were super cool like their aunt Kono (only cooler, to which she agrees on)

- Grace loves you (she tells you all the time, trying to help her dad out)

- So does Charlie (when he's born)

- They really like you because you protect their dad and make sure he comes home in one piece and same with uncle Steve

- Danny didn’t know but during one of your cases, the bad guy was aiming for him and would have gotten to him had you not been there to pull out some moves

- Grace only knew when you tried to hide your injury later while everyone was celebrating at Steve’s

“Are you okay? Do I need to have uncle Steve call an-”

You shake your head, “Nope. I got it.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t think you do. You’re bleeding.”

You glance at your stomach, “maybe I need medical attention.”

She nods and runs into the kitchen, looking for her dad.

“Wait- Grace, no.”

Her, Danny, and Steve run into the living room of Steve’s home and the detective catches you before you could fall face first onto the floor

That was the day when Danny started to look at you in a different light and started to pursue you

To which, your longest and childhood friend did not like… at all

“You’re not dating him.”

You roll your eyes. “I can date whoever I want.”

“Anyone but Danny.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I date someone who isn’t like every other guy I dated?”  

Steve furrows his brows. “What- what about that one guy you dated back in high school?”

You shrug, “dead.”

He stares at you as if you’ve lost your mind, “I’m sorry? He’s dead?”

You wave him off, “Danny’s the better choice.”

“No.”

You spin around, keeping one hand on the door. “I’m going out with him and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Steve doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you’re dating his best friend but when he sees how you two are

He stops making nit picking comments to joking about your guys future

You two laugh along with him before you shut him down with a sarcastic remark

And of course, Danny adds onto it

Another reason why Steve didn’t want you two to get together… the sarcasm is too much

Working together has its pros and cons

You and Danny didn’t realize how much it would affect you two until a bad case came up after you started dating

It was worse than the time when you quite literally took one for him

You were being held hostage with Kono and Jerry (who kept annoying the head honcho with his questions)

It was a few hours until they found you three

It wasn’t until Danny punched the day lights out of one the bad guys till he saw your face again

He’s never told you but he nearly collapsed at the sight of you looking all banged up, clearly taking the worst of it

About two months had passed by before he decides to pull back from you, feeling it was his fault you got hurt in the first place

Steve became more protective and kept a closer eye on you (Chin doing the same with Kono)

No one needed to worry about Jerry because he kept showing up

You knew what the detective was doing, you’ve done the same thing

Another reason why it took you so long to come back home

You can’t take it anymore and confront him

You close the door to his office and sit down at the chair across from him.

He raises a brow, “hello to you too.”

“Cut the bull, you think it’s your fault, don’t you?”

“Can we rewind to when you gave me a little background information?”

You push yourself in the seat, resting your elbows on your knees as your butt rests at the edge of the seat, “no because you know exactly what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re not,” your fingers run through your, usually, neat hair; messing it up. “We haven’t been the same since the case and don’t pretend like-”

He nods, “you’re right. That’s on me. I mean,” he sighs, suddenly feeling uncomfortable talking about his feelings. “It was because I was scared before but then I realized what I was doing and it felt like it was too late to change something and now, we’re here.”

“Can we at least make an effort for some kind of familiarity? I mean, its been months since we actually talked for more than three minutes.”

“How about we ditch our favorite person and go out?”

“Please tell me were not going on a break to Komokona’s shrimp truck.”

He smiles and fixes your hair before pecking your lips. “No, I’m taking you somewhere nice. Somewhere a beautiful and amazing person like yourself deserves.”

You gasp and accept his help. “You mean your bed?!”

A faux chuckle escapes him, “very funny.”

“I try.”

Steve was speechless when you two quiet literally said you’re ditching and wouldn’t be back for a bit

You two enjoyed yourselves

You managed to hold off responding to your friends many, many messages which annoyed the both of you

After that it was good, you two had never been closer or had better relationships than now

Danny still doesn’t know how he got you to agree to go out with him but he’s happy and you make him feel like the luckiest guy ever

You feel the same and consider yourself lucky to be apart of Williams family and your work family

You’re happy you decided to come back and stay where you grew up

Steve still can’t handle when you two gang up on him for anything and everything

The sarcasm is off the charts