#just posting some old stuff while i figure out how to draw a little faster | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grapesodatozier · 3 years ago

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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genshinfanboy · 3 years ago

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A Special Meeting.

|Hello everyone. I know it's been awhile. My apologies about that. I was working on some irl stuff and didn't have time to write. I'm back. I had changed my rules slightly for requests. They are still closed. I'll make an update post soon. This one-shot is fairly indulgent for me. It is fairly long so be warned about that. Anyways please enjoy and as always feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Have a good day or night. :)

Albedo x Cryo! Male reader.

Warning: minor Spoilers for characters stories.

Albedo was sitting in the library reading some books. He was looking into something he had ran into at Dragonspine. He had a feeling it had to do with Festering Desire. He gave a small sigh. This small research task would become that much more tedious if the Calvary Captain decided to visit the library that day. He was looking through the shelves to find some history books. They should help him solve this strange occurance. He walked around the library reading the spines of books to see what he's looking for. As he was walking he heard Lisa talking with a voice he didn't recognize. "So cutie would you like to be Lisa's little helper today?" She said. Albedo pitied the poor person who was being roped into helping Lisa. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he was curious about the other person Lisa was talking to. The person seemed overly polite.

(Y/N) gave Lisa a small smile. "So Miss Lisa is this why you asked me to come here today? I'm not going to have to make a run for over due books am I?" He asked. He shifted slightly on his feet. He didn't like just standing still. He watched Lisa's face closely to gauge if his initial thought was correct. She gave a small laugh and crossed her arms. "I don't need you to do that today Cutie. I do have some potion recipes I'd like to have you look at while you're here. You don't visit Mondstadt very often after all. Make me wonder if you even need your old teacher after all." She answer. "However if you want to make book runs I won't stop you. I am more than happy to keep you here longer. Maybe we can even reopen the lessons you missed while being gone?" (Y/N) got a bit worried as he saw his old master's smile turn into a bit of a smirk. He quickly shook his head putting his hands up. "I think helping you with the potions will be enough today. I'll make sure to send letter more often and visit more. No need to reopen the lessons. So do we need to go to your lab for the potions or would you like to go to the Alchemy table in the middle of toqn?" He quickly stated. He wanted to change the topics so Lisa wouldn't get any ideas.

Albedo listened to the conversation a bit long. Something about the person talking to Lisa seemed intriguing. His ears picked up the part about potions. He was interested in the potions and decided to walk towards the voices. "Pardon my intrusion. I happened to over hear your conversation. Is it possible for me to join in on the potion creation?" He asked approaching the two. His eyes met will the person talking with Lisa. He looked at them for a second their features seemed enticing. He received a look from the unknown male. The look was a bit hard to decipher. "Oh Albedo! I didn't know you were here. You're welcome to join us. This cutie has been all over Teyvat and is quite the genius." Lisa greeted with a smile. Her voice definitely surprised. He observed the other male turning slightly red. "I'm not that smart Miss Lisa. It's a pleasure to meet you I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." The other male held out a hand to him. "No it's mine. My name is Albedo." He said taking the other's hand. "Shall we to the potions?"

(Y/N) looked at the light haired person. Albedo was definitely attractive. He was definitely interested in the other. He glanced at the blue eyes shyly. He hoped he wouldn't be caught staring as the three were walking. He wondered if Albedo was apart of the knights. He wasn't too fond of most knighted. Maybe Albedo would be one of the ones he liked. They made it to Lisa's lab. (Y/N) watched her pull out the recipe for the potion and hand it to him. "This was left in one of the returned books recently. I've been having issues trying to figure out what it is. Some of the ingredients aren't things I've recognized. Read it through and let me know what you think." She said. He started reading through it. He felt his cheeks heat up as he noticed Albedo was close to him reading over his shoulder. As he read through the ingredients of the potion he noticed something strange. On the worn out piece of paper there was a faded instruction. It was barely legible. "Miss Lisa there's a need for a cryo vision energy for this recipe. I find that a bit strange. There is an ingredient from every nation. I'm pretty sure that I have enough of all of the ingredients to make one potion. Another thing I noticed is the instruction at the end is rather off for some of the ingredients. It's quite faded and was hard to decipher at first between Cryo and Pyro. Though I am certain it says Cryo. It's odd to use cold rather then heat to combine everything." He explained. He barely noticed Albedo step a bit closer to him to get a better look. His face became a bit more red. He was praying to the archons that his old teacher wouldn't notice.

Albedo leaned closer to see what (Y/N) saw. It was a rather unique. He was impressed with how quickly the other had read the recipe. He finished reading finally and stepped back slightly. "That is fascinating. There is no name or description of what the potion does. Perhaps one of us can drink it to find out the effects. It could make for a new discovery." He explained. He did wish to see this through until the end. "Well Cutie it seems you are the perfect little helper for this task." Lisa said wrapping her arms around the other. Albedo watched his (e/c) eyes widened. They were a lovely color. "May I just observe while you make the potion." He said. The other two in the group nodded. (Y/N) started working skillfully making the potion. Albedo was watching him. He brought his sketchbook out and started drawing the sight. After a few minutes it was done. He smiled as he looked at the sketch of the other male. He watched as the potion was also completed It glowed a nice light blue color. He stepped closer. He set his sketch book down to look at the potion. He noticed little snowflakes it as well. Were they from (Y/N)'s cryo energy? He looked up at the other two. Lisa and (Y/N) seemed to be looking at something. He followed their line of sight and saw them looking at his sketch. He saw the other male blushing like crazy. "Oh my apologies for drawing you without permission. I did it without thinking." He said with a very faint blush on his cheeks.

(Y/N) could detect a hint of embarrassment. "Oh no it's fine the entire drawing is very beautiful. I'm very impressed." He quickly said to relieve him of the embarrassment. "Who should test the potion?" He was a bit shy. "I think you should darling. You did most of the work after all." Lisa said with a smile. He was a bit nervous to try it. Though it shouldn't be that bad plus his curiousity over took his worry. He gave the old arch mage a nod and grabbed it. He uncorked it and starting putting it to his lips. The moment the rim touched his lips his wrist was grabbed by someone stopping him from drinking it. He looked up in surprise his (e/c) irises meeting the beautiful blue eyes. "Wait I just wish to clarify something before I allow you to ingest that. All of the ingredients are safe to ingest correct?" He said in a worried tone. (Y/N) would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat at the tone of Albedo's voice. He gave a smile to the other. "I don't carry any herbs or anything that are lethal to others. They tend to interact poorly with some of the herbs I always carry for medicinal use. Thank you for your worry though." He said giving Albedo a soft smile. The two shared a look. "I'd still feel more comfortable if I was the one to ingest it." He said. (Y/N) started thinking for a second. "How about a both drink half and then Lisa can monitor us if anything goes wrong?" He suggested.

Albedo let out a sigh. "You certainly are a stubborn person." He hid his small smile. "Well let me drink it first." He said holding out a hand. He saw the (e/c) male place the bottle in his own hand. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. It was truly strange. He found a strange infatuation with this person. Perhaps it was the other's thought process. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man he was thinking about. "Hmm I wonder if since it uses a cryo vision to combine things if it may affect vision holders differently." He said. Lisa watched eagerly. "If it does then this potion could potentially be dangerous." She said with a hand to her chin. Albedo gave Lisa a nod before drinking half of the potion. It was very sweet which made him slightly happy. He didn't feel any immediate effects. "The taste is sweet. However I haven't felt anything immediate happen." He said to the others. The former Arch Mage and the other male seemed interested. He watched the other male down the rest of the potion. "Yuck that's super bitter......" his sentence was cut off when he started staring at Albedo. The Alchemist definitely wary of the stare. "Is there something on my face?" He inquired. The other quickly shook his head. "No it's just that the potion seems to be affecting me faster than it might be affecting you or something. Is it because I had made ......" the other's voice seemed to trail off. He noticed swaying. Lisa must've too since she quickly put her hands on (Y/N)'s arms to stabilize him. Albedo quickly rushed over and checked for anything dire. Soon there was a puff of light blue smoke around the three. When the smoke had cleared a teen stood where (Y/N) should've been. Something clicked in Albedo's head. So that's why he had been so infatuated with someone he thought he hardly knew. This was someone he met once before. They had spoke for hours on different topics when they were teenagers. (Y/N) was the person Albedo cared very deeply for in his youth before he met Alice and Klee. (Y/N) was Albedo's first love. He was once again snapped from his thoughts by the person he was thinking about. "? I thought you and your master had left. I was waiting for you." The teen said with a frown. "I am sorry for leaving you back then. I assure you it won't happen again." He said giving a reassuring smile. He meant what he said there's no way he wanted to lose the other again. He looked at Lisa who seemed confused. Before another clouds of light blue smoke appeared. (Y/N) was standing between the two looking slightly confused. "Wait were you the boy (Y/N) talked endlessly Albedo?" Lisa asked with a smirk. She saw both boys go bright red. "Miss Lisa I asked you not to mention that." He said.

As the conversation died down there was one thing for certain. Albedo wasn't going to lose (Y/N) a second time.

#albedo x male reader #genshin impact #albedo #genshin lisa #taylor writes #fanfic #male reader

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bakugotsundere · 4 years ago

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Hating Him - Bakugou Katsuki (1)

bakugo x (black) fem reader

( still can read if you’re not)

sorry if it bothers you, i just felt that my black readers weren’t feeling black as they were reading y/n stories cause i for sure wasn’t.

Warning: none

Summary: Bakugo and you have hated each other ever since you met, being on the same track team and having the same friend group didn’t make things any better. you 2 have to act like you like each other for the benefit of the friend group until one day you and him are forced to have movie night with the others and you both have had enough of each other’s shit.

in this chapter: you get invited to the movie night and bump into bakugo

The morning smell of outside filled your lungs as you stepped out your house. It was exactly 5:30 in the morning. The streets were not busy and there was barely any noise, just faint sounds of dogs barking and truck drivers in a distance. It was the perfect time to go for your daily run. The chilly air made you happy, it gave you more of a challenge. you zipped your nike training jacket up. It fit you tight, tugging at every curve of yours. The sky was a foggy blue, a few clouds started coming in, along with the sum.

You walked down the steps of your house, stretching your legs when you got to the sidewalk. You looked ahead and yawned as you walked onto the street. Your neighborhood was fairly nice to say the least. Everybody minded their business, especially since your house had been secluded. After your grandmother died, she left one of her houses she owned to you, making it easy for you since you dreaded the idea of having to share a dorm with someone, let alone having to get an apartment.

you placed your airpods in your ears and played Apparently by J.Cole. J.Cole had been your favorite rapper since you were 12 years old, you missed the days where your 12 year old self would dance around your room to his music, now you’re grown and responsibilities are becoming more than just making sure your chores were done. You stretched one last time before taking off.

...

Once you were done, sweat dripped from your face. your breathing was heavy and the cold water bottle in your hand had been long awaited. The sun was now out. The birds chirping got louder and the old lady from across the street was sitting in her chair with her small cat in her lap, you quenched your thirst, swallowing every last drop of water. “Good morning Y/n” She chirped. You wiped your mouth with your wrist smiling, turning towards her, “Goodmorning Ms. Rodriguez.” you reply as you waved.

You finally go back inside your house, feeling at ease. you take off your black vapor max at the door and go to your kitchen, grabbing a nutrigrain bar, you ate it before going upstairs to get ready for your classes. you took your curly hair out of its messy bun. the roots of your hair were finally breathing and it felt good. you scratched your scalp in satisfaction. you looked in the mirror, loving your features and your brown/caramel skin. you never felt the need to put yourself in the 3 categories because to you there was no need to, everybody in the community was black so why separate it into groups.

you placed the shea butter your mother made for you on your face. you took off your semi-sweaty clothes throwing them into your dirty clothes hamper and looked at yourself in the mirror. your body was perfect to most but you didn’t see what everyone saw. your thighs were too thick for your liking, especially since you did track. your breast were too big to you, they sometimes got in the way while working out. you had a 4 pack from the working out, everybody told you that you had an hour glass body but you hated it. if this what a hour glass body was, you hated it.

you took off your panties, replacing your old ones with Tommy Hilfiger ones. You grabbed a pair of black nike sweatpants that fit your thighs perfectly. You took off your bra, letting your breast breath and put on another sports bra, putting on a white t-shirt fresh out the pack. you ran chap stuck along your plump lips, they were more than plump actually if you like them so it didn’t matter. you picked out the roots of your hair leaving it’s on it’s curly state. you had dyed your hair a ginger color, which made you look like sza a little. your fro was like hers too, very big and curly.

You wrapped your apple watch around your wrist and put on some whit nike socks, along with your white air force ones. Your phone started dinging and it was the gc, you had been in with your friend group.

Mina :) > goodmorning whores. Time for class before you become drop outs.

Denki ⚡️> good morning Mina ;)

Midoriya🥬> Goodmorning everybody, i have a big test in Mr. Aizawa’s today so i have to get to studying, talk to you guys later.

Kirishima> Mornin. It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it and i’m not a whore mina.

You> yea, kirishima i’m pretty sure you got caught with cami in the janitors closet.

Iida> Mine was too, you guys need to stop texting and get to class.

You> sure, see you on the track field lida. this gc is getting deader by the day and it’s embarrassing to watch.

(seen by kirishima, Mina, and Bakugou)

lida> typing...

You shut off your phone with a smile, knowing that got him heated. You didn’t even care for his response. you loved messing with lida, it was funny, you sprayed a little vanilla perfume on your body and you were off to a place you dreaded.

...

You were now in the library studying with Mina. Mina was like your best friend, you told her everything and she told you everything. “Have you seen that picture of trey songz you know what?” she asked and your eyes went wide, in shock that she was talking about this in the library. “yes, but i can’t go crazy over it, he made the shit so corny. the whole post he made afterwards had me cringing at my phone so hard. i was like “boy what the fuck” he too old for that shit.” you told her and she giggled.

“I’m having a movie night with the rest of the group this saturday, you have to come. you never come to things with us anymore. Ever since bakugou started hanging out with us, you’ve been avoiding us. i’ve noticed some type of tension between you 2, i hope it isn’t sexual?” she stated and your stomach churned at the thought of that stuck up dummy.

“No, i just like staying to myself, that’s all. i think i’ll come Saturday as long as it’s not going to be a lot of people you know how busy i am with track and stuff.” you stated in reality you hated being around bakugo. especially since he always felt to make rude remarks towards you when everyone wasn’t around. He was normally mean to everyone, but you got it the worse since you had the shortest running time on the team. When track practice would come around you and him would argue with each other every second. you hated being yelled at or talked to badly and your mother sure didn’t raise a bitch so you talked to him just as reckless as he did to you and he hated every second of it since you were the first to ever test him. your personalities didn’t mix well at all.

“it’s only gonna be, denki, bakugo, kirishima, todoroki, asui, uruaka and deku but that’s if bakugo doesn’t mind.”

“yea, i’ll think about it.” you said softly.

...

you were now at practice and the death stares you received from bakugo made you just wanna slap the fuck out of him. His eyes followed you as you warmed up. You could see him start to come towards you and you sighed. His tall figure stood in front of you, blocking the sun, his body shaded you. “You draw too much attention.” He stated as the boys that were on the team stared at you. You were the only girl on the track team so you learned to get used to it. “I know, why are you telling me this?” you asked and he gritted his teeth, “All of those boys are practically eye raping you.” he states, taking in your appearance and you sighed, “I don’t know what to fucking say. these are the only sizes in shirts they have and if my curves happen to show then so be it. it’s not like the whole thing is out.”

Sweat dripped from the side of his head, he had on a white tank top and some nike shorts with some white vapor max. a towel hung over his broad shoulders. your eyes scanned his body, you never thought bakugo was ugly, he was perfect when it came to looks. He was very tall with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He had short, spiky, ash-blond hair that looked soft. His eyes were a sharp and bright red in color that showed his hostility. his looks fit his personality though, very cocky.

“Why do you care?” You asked and his cheeks turned a bright pink and anger came upon him, this line made him mad, “I don’t.” he replied angrily. “Well then stop telling me things i already know. All you do is bother me.” you told and his lips curved into a smirk, “Your existence bothers me, imagine how I feel.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him aggressively. He can be so fucking annoying. Imaging having to be on the same team as someone you hate. It��s really irritating, especially when the person is somebody as arrogant as he is. He needs to be humbled.

...

You and Bakugou were the only 2 left after practice, your coach was mad at the both of you because of what happened last week with the sub coach. Bakugou had been bothering you that day and you snapped and then you two decided to have a race on your own which didn’t turn out so well since bakugou got mad that you won in the end.

So now you and him were being forced to do “after practice workouts” with each other. You were now lying on the ground of the track floor, exhausted. Bakugou was right next to you, your chest rose up and down, your breathing heavy and your legs worn out. You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just wouldn’t hate me so much and accept that i’m faster than you.” you stated and his red eyes stared at your light brown ones. “Can’t blame this all on me. You hate me as well and you don’t know when to shut up. You don’t have to respond to everything i say but you do.” He said and you placed your hands at your stomach, “I’m not about to let you walk all over me like you do everyone else. Your ego is too big and i’m doing nothing but lowering it.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked and you sighed softly looking him in his eyes trying to search for anything but anger but there was no other emotion but that, his pupils did dilate once he noticed how hard you were staring into his eyes though, “It’s not what i think, it’s what i know.” you said. “i don’t understand why you are always so angry all the time. I don’t even know how you have the friends that you have. obviously that means they see past it but i refuse to. i can’t. sorry but that’s just how i am.” you stated sitting up, he sat up with you staring at you, “i don’t understand how you have friends, you are very competitive and just avoid me then. We can always hate each other from a distance.” he stated and you smiled shaking your head as you stood up.

“Can’t do that when we have the same friends and are on the same team and i’m only competitive when it comes to track. So i’ll just hate you regardless and plus you always keep your enemies close. It doesn’t matter though, i’m still faster.” you added on that last part trying to make him mad and you could hear him start to yell as you walked off and a smile came upon your lips.

There’s no way you could ever be friends with him so why even bother trying. Something about him makes your blood boil.

#bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x black reader

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mrs-harkness · 4 years ago

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Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

#oceans 8 #tammy #tammy oceans 8 #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson fic #mini fic

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izzabeean · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 18 : Awakening

SUMMARY

There's a lot to unpack.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,446

content : profanity

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a/n: I'm sorry this took too long, I've been needing a mental health break with how busy life has become. This chapter is a bit rushed just because I wanted to post it before next week since I've been MIA for so long.

masterlist

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Slowly turning the key, your head starts to spin as you push the front door open to an empty apartment and a mixture of emotions surge through you. Relief that the repairs for your apartment are finally complete and you can move back to the comfort of your own home. Yet sadness swells in your chest at the realization you’ll be alone.

It’s weird. The natural response would be to get out of Oikawa’s apartment as soon as possible, sick of his antics and constant harassment. But for some incoherent reason, a part of you feels hesitant.

This heavy sensation in your chest drags you down as you walk into your apartment -- it seems so much more burdensome than when you left. Everything still feels fresh.

An agonizing pain mixed with confusion emanates off the walls flashing you back to the night Ushijima ending things. Your anxiety grows stronger as you picture his piercing hazel eyes glowering down at you after asking for you back. It's seemingly getting more and more difficult to make a decision as each moment passes and you're feeling inexplicably hopeless. It's a terrible idea to get back together with him -- just remembering that night makes you sick. We need to talk still haunts you accompanied with his unbothered, stoic expression... Your heart starts to race trying to make sense of what you’re feeling.

Why is everything suddenly so difficult?

You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white. Why does he even want you back? This isn’t something that he should take so lightly, he hurt you. Though you strongly feel anger festering within, a voice keeps whispering in your ear to take him back. You can’t tell if it’s what you truly want or it’s just the fear of disappointing your parents even more.

“How’s it looking?”

Your manic thoughts are pushed away with Oikawa as he walks further into the apartment to take a look around.

The flood -- you’d forgotten about that morning until this moment. Your heart starts beating faster as the memory rushes to the forefront, not just from the panic and frustration of waking up to a submerged apartment, but to the moment of the warmth under the covers with Oikawa’s firm body pressed up behind you. Had Oikawa been holding back the entire night you spent together? Of course, you didn’t know how long he’s had feelings for you, so surely if he did at the time, it must have been absolutely tempting to make a move on you. But why didn’t he? Truthfully, if the situation was switched then you would’ve taken the opportunity to…

“Not bad,” you answer, trying to force an honest smile, but Oikawa sees right through you.

“Why do you do that?” Oikawa says, his voice is tight on the cusp of irritation.

“Do what?” you respond quickly, hoping that he will just let this one go. But he doesn’t.

“Force yourself to smile like that,” he grunts. “You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”

“I’m not--”

“Bullshit,” he retorts with a harsh tone.

You bite your tongue, even more conflicted on what to say.

Oikawa sees that as he analyzes you, he knows it’s not easy for you to talk to him about stuff. “Is something on your mind?” he asks softly, drawing his frustration back.

It’s hard to process, you’ve felt this heavy feeling for so long, you thought it was normal. The only time you’ve felt any reassurance is in Oikawa’s presence, yet for some reason, today the aching is much more prominent. Everything feels so nerve wracking. You know he likes you and yet, it makes your heart throb.

“My parents,” you start with your voice a little shaky. “They think they know what’s best for me...”

“For the internship?”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, eyes fixed on the ground. They also think they know it’s best for you to be with Ushijima, but you couldn’t tell Oikawa that. “Everything’s all set up and it could make me successful but…”

You turn away from him so your face is out of his view. The silence stretches between you for a moment. You feel oddly vulnerable, like the slightest touch will shatter you into pieces. If only it was easier to explain the constant pressure you receive from them, you might've tried to laugh about it upon telling him, just to make things a bit lighter. But, it wasn’t something you were ready to dig into.

“Then what do you want?” Oikawa asks, breaking the quietness.

The age old question that’s been going through your head this entire time. Truthfully, some answers seem so vivid now. You don’t want that internship… It’s not something that will excite you in any form. You want to work to achieve something and this feels like it’s just being handed to you because of your parents. There’s no drive for it.

But as for Ushijima, well...

“I don’t know,” you utter, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will,” Oikawa hums, before walking up to ruffle your hair.

Even as he pulls his hand away, his touch is still lingering, forcing you to catch your breath at the sudden surprise. His words are warm and caring as if he truly believes everything will fall into place. You want to believe him. Even the warmth in his eyes almost sways your skepticism, you can feel affection in them, but you can’t seem to grasp onto the hope he has. At this point you’re too stunned to even say a word as you allow your emotions to control you.

“When are you moving back in?” he asks, bringing you back to reality.

“Probably in the next couple days,” you breathe then pause staring at him for a bit while feeling your entire face burn up. An undeniable tension floats in the air and you're struggling to understand if it’s just your mind racing or it’s actually there. The way he manages to get your heart racing out of nowhere, the look he gives you when his chocolate eyes gaze at you, makes you want to melt… “Can you help?”

“Of course.”

------

Now that Iwaizumi is gone, it’s only standard for you to sleep in the guest bedroom. You’re not sure why a room down the hallway was more uncomfortable, but here you were tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. Of course you have other causes to your insomnia, like the pressure of deciding whether or not you should move forward with the internship and whether or not you should get back together with Ushijima. But at the very moment, your head can’t seem to wrap around the idea that Oikawa is just down the hall.

You’ve been living with him for awhile and now you decide to be nervous about it, you think.

Tucking your head under the covers, you take a deep breath inhaling the soft scents of softener and linen, a deep contrast to the sweet scent of citrus mixed with a tinge of oak in Oikawa’s room -- which you’d noticed shortly after is the essence of Oikawa. You clench your jaw, y our brain is all messed up from everything going on. Not to mention it's strange, the way Oikawa’s been so generous lately -- sweet without being boastful or bothersome, completely unlike himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting after your “fight”, but it probably wasn’t this.

You won't be sleeping anytime soon, so you get up and grab your coat, hoping an evening walk will put your mind at ease.

The night is dark and calm as you walk down the street, sidewalk lit by a streetlamp every few steps. Though quiet, your thoughts are louder than ever, pounding at your head hounding you to make a decision. As the cool air picks up and nips at your face, you quickly shove your hands in your pockets full of tissues and a cartridge. Pulling it out, you’re reminded of the evening you first bought the pack of smokes, how your agony ripped you apart to the point you had to turn to a bad habit. The recollection of relief pulsing through your body after inhaling the rich smoke tempted you as you open the pack and take out a stale cigarette that’s a bit crumpled.

The emptiness sets in and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think of what you should do next. For a moment the stress of your future can temporarily disappear with one breath, but how disappointed would Oikawa be if you did so.

That evening, when he called you in the midst of your smoke, he didn’t even know what had happened, but he was still there in a way. His voice echoes your head as he slurs that he hopes Ushijima makes you happy… It makes you hot and flustered. Oikawa always just wants what is best for you. Even if it didn’t benefit him…

You crush the cigarette into your palm and with that a shiver went down your spine. The heavy feeling in your chest seemed to lift itself a little and you almost thought you were standing a bit taller.

------

Fiddling with your pen, you look up once again at the time; class is almost over. Oikawa sits beside you, seemingly locked in on the professor's lecture. It feels unfamiliar to see him taking notes, attentively listening -- his concentration is normally as lacking as yours. Today your attention span is the worst it’s ever been trying to hone in on the dull monotone voice that booms across the class.

Then an idea sparks.

Quickly you try to grab the pen that Oikawa is writing with, but his reflexes are too swift for you as he jerks it away from your reach. A loud obnoxious screech from your chair lurching forward interrupts your professor in the middle of his lesson.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” the professor asks, while everyone’s eyes turn to you.

It’s awkward as you scoff under your breath, but sit up and readjust your seat.

“Y--yes, everything is good,” you say before having the professor return back to his stale lecture.

You let out a sigh while your face gets all flushed. The taste of desperation coats your mouth and it’s so overwhelming that you had to go to uncomfortable lengths just to feel the slightest bit of normalcy between the two of you. There’s just something about the way his irritation spikes through his tight-lipped smile and balling of fists while his eyes glare at you. You missed it.

Suddenly, a quiet snicker sounds beside you. In the corner of your eye, you can see a softness in Oikawa’s appearance and he's slightly smirking. You try not to make it obvious that you notice, but it makes your heart melt a little.

The remainder of the lesson, you continue to replay the way Oikawa’s lips almost turned up to a smile. You wish you got more of a reaction out of him, but it was enough to reassure things. When the professor gives his final dismissal, Oikawa pops up to pack up his belongings. There’s this longing of wishing you could sit beside him longer as you slowly collect your things.

“Ushiwaka is here,” Oikawa says, gesturing to the doorway.

You glance at the doorway noticing a familiar figure poking his head in. His eyes survey the classroom and before meeting yours, you quickly dart them away.

“Are you kidding?” you say under your breath, quickly zipping up your bag, feeling a flash of irritation course through your veins. “I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa raises his brow as he watches you speed towards Ushijima. He knew something like this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.

But you weren’t pleased with Ushijima’s appearance.

"What are you doing?” you fume, you were quite pissed off as you pout your lips in petulant annoyance.

“I wanted to walk you to your next class,” Ushijima admits so nonchalantly it grinds your teeth.

"N--no," you reply, losing your focus to Oikawa walking by. “No, I don’t need--”

“I need to make up for the time we’ve lost together,” Ushijima adds, eyes locked on to yours that are wandering past him looking at Oikawa who’s getting further and further away.

"I-- I can’t. Please just… I need more space,” you sputter before swallowing hard your body leading to Oikawa’s direction.

"Take whatever time you need, I'll be waiting,” is what you think you heard from him as you catch up to Oikawa, but you don’t really care because your heart feels like everything you did in the moment was unlawful. You didn’t want Oikawa to get the wrong idea, and you feel like he might have, it makes you sick. Just when things started to repair with him, Ushijima just had to sweep in.

“What did he want?” Oikawa asks, his gaze ahead. “Did you finally accept his proposal?”

“What? No," you answer, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re really taking your time with this aren’t you,” he mumbles. “You better figure it out quick, he’s not going to wait for you forever.”

“He can wait,” you say to which Oikawa glances at you.

You get to a fork in the hallway that branches off to your next class or leads to outside the building. Oikawa raises his hand to bid farewell, but you stop planting your feet and take a deep breath.

“Toru.”

He stops and looks over at you…

“Can you come with me…. to my parents?” you breathe. “I don’t want to do the internship. I just don’t want to go alone to tell them.”

Hesitant of his answer, you wait for his response.

“I’d be happy to.”

----

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whine, abruptly stopping on the sidewalk in front of your parents house. The sun hides behind the dark clouds, almost seeming like a sigh that you shouldn’t move forward with your plan, but gently touches your back.

“It will be alright,” Oikawa says softly as you try to push away the heat of his touch.

You’re sure that because Oikawa is here with you, you can go through with it. Even if you’re on the verge of retreating, it’s in fact, much more relieving to have him support you on the sidelines.

Every ounce of you pushes your body forward towards the front door. The ominous illusion of a stone cold castle looms over you as you press your finger to the doorbell. The anxiety starts to build up as you look back to Oikawa. He gives you a smile and your face is hot, worried about what's to come from this conversation.

The door unlatches and slowly opens.

“Oh, hello,” your mom says, eyes wide yet narrow glaring down at you. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi,” you respond shyly. You wanted to grab Oikawa’s body to shield you from your mom’s unpleasant aura, but of course you plant your feet. “This is Toru Oikawa.”

Looking back at him to check in and see if he too is incapacitated from her energy. But he isn’t.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a bow.

“How charming, come in!” she greets.

Oikawa straightens up, smoothing out his shirt before fixing his hair. Your eyes widen in awe - his calm confidence is visionary. You didn’t remotely feel comfortable around your mother and Oikawa is smooth and endearing. You're definitely always bringing him with you when you have to see your parents.

Your poorly hidden anxiety is noted on Oikawa’s behalf as he raises an eyebrow and flicks you on the forehead.

“Don’t stress!” Oikawa smiles.

Entering into the house, you two take off your shoes and make your way into the dining area where your mom awaits you. The rooms feel remarkably lifeless and empty.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, taking a seat at the dining table as Oikawa follows suit, sitting next to you.

“Oh working again, doesn’t know when to stop,” your mom sighs. Her eyes trail to Oikawa and her gaze feels so much softer compared to the daggers she throws at you. “Would you like some tea? Water?”

Her gaze lingers as she patiently waits for an answer.

“Thank you, but I’m alright,” he replies.

She turns to you and your heart leaps out of your chest, her stare feels like it could drag your soul out of your body.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, voice shaky as you swallow hard, forcing the next couple words out of your mouth. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the internship.”

Your mom’s intimidating demeanor drops immediately, her eyes twinkling with excitement while taking a seat across from you.

“Oh they’re so delighted to have you,” she croons. “They’ve even made you a care package in anticipation of your arrival!”

“See, the thing is…”

Your mom’s blissful face cuts.

“What’s wrong,” she says, making the question more of a blank statement.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just--”

“You think a mother wouldn’t know her own daughter.”

“It’s just--”

“Spit it out.”

You hold your breath, not sure how to present it. Looking at Oikawa, his eyes are full of affection and reassurance, you’ve come this far and you can’t back out of it now.

“Are you quitting?” she murmurs, gazing at you with a stern, cold look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to cushion the blow. But her eyes grow with more displeasure.

“Excuse me,” she hisses.

The air cuts thin. You’re quiet upon hearing the disappointment in her voice, and can understand why she’d be absolutely mortified.

“All that your father and I have done for you,” she barks. “This is how you repay us?”

I knew this was going to happen, you think to yourself as the worst case scenario seems to be on track with her reaction.

“I want to find somewhere else to intern,” you breathe, scared your words are just going to start a war. Her eyes have blaze in them won’t go out. There’s so much passion to make you like her, but even more successful, despite you going against her wishes. Something in her aura makes you want to run, but running is all you’ve ever done. It’s time to face your fears. “Please, let me explain.”

She doesn’t speak, her scowl says everything as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since I first went in for the interview,” you begin trembling. “Everyone was so welcoming and so excited to have me, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

“So you’re going to be selfish and only think about yourself?” she argues.

You recognize your anxiety from earlier stirring in your stomach. Your mom isn’t the easiest person to speak to, especially when her face radiates failure and suffering, this is quite possibly the most horrified you’ve seen her.

“It’s not what I want to do with my degree. I want to look somewhere else that will make me feel more fulfilled.”

“What you want is a mistake,” she thunders.

Her words are like knives digging into your heart. She just seems so distraught, and obviously cares about your future, but you can’t do this anymore.

You stand up from the table and bow deeply. “Will you please trust me? That’s all I ask.”

The room is silent as tension fills the air, you don’t really know what to expect as you shut your eyes tight waiting for a reaction. You’re expecting to be yelled at-- not to mention a shock wave of embarrassment protruding through you in front of Oikawa. The moment is painful and you don’t know what to do. You remain in the deep bow waiting.

“Alright. You don’t need to be so ridiculous, bowing...” she mumbles. You stand up and she has her hand clasp to her forehead. “You’re father’s going to kill me, but alright.”

Your heart rate increases, uncertain what she means by that, because you thought you’d misheard her.

“I guess it’s about time you’ve made your own decisions,” she says. “I was beginning to believe you’d continue to go along with it, but you’re your own person now.”

Shock and confusion washes over you, mixed with hope and excitement. You press your palm to your heart wondering if it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t come crying when nothing goes your way,” she adds.

Letting out a huge breath, your lips upturn to a smile.

“Thank you,” you say. And it’s genuine.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #Ushijima Wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n

29 notes · View notes

laurensprentiss · 4 years ago

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 4:

Gif credit @84hotpockets

Warnings: More mentions of stalking, mutual pining, some *close quarter tension*, little angst.

Word Count: 2,865

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“Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed. ” - Leo Tolstoy

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Your breaths come sharp and short, sweat dripping from your forehead as you bounce on the balls of your feet slightly, lungs burning as you throw punches at the boxing pads that Agent Hotchner holds out in front of you. You throw your weight into every punch, hitting out the aggression and anger at the unknown shadowy figure your mind had conjured up. The person who was trying to take your life away. The gym smells like old rubber and sweat as Hotch calls out combination numbers over the flat snapping sound of your gloves hitting the pads. His head is down and his eyes are laser focused on you, following your every move. You throw a punch on his left hand as his right comes up and taps you on your face. You groan in frustration.

“Come on, we’ve been through this!” He repeats. “Don’t get too into your head. Block.” He brings his own hand up to demonstrate, his thick arms flexing under his t-shirt. “When you’re throwing your jabs, make sure your other hand’s by your face, nice and high, okay?” He places his hand about level with his cheek as he shifts his feet, throwing jabs at the air. You can’t even pretend anymore, watching him punch and flex makes your breath hitch and your thighs squeeze . God, you felt so naive. Stupid even. The situation is quite literally life or death and he’s teaching you to defend yourself against your stalker and instead of focusing, you’re imagining how strong he really is.

“Got it?” He snaps you out of your stupor. You nod. “Okay, try again. Remember, the key is to block.” You nod again, and meet his pads faster and more accurately this time, blocking his attempts to get at your face. He laughs approvingly, a grin on his face. “Alright, that’s more like it! Good girl.” Your heart rate increases at that, warmth pooling, the words of praise coming from his mouth unleashing butterflies in your stomach.

Good girl?

The momentary lapse in concentration has his pad make contact with your face as you grunt. He shoots you a bewildered and slightly disappointed look. “Okay, tell me what went wrong there, because you were doing good.” He demands. You can feel heat rising up your neck and chest while you try to play it off. Authoritative Agent Hotchner is an Agent Hotchner you hadn’t had the pleasure of witnessing until today, and you think that maybe you’d want him to stick around a little longer. Maybe even push his buttons to see how far you could take it. Maybe hear him shout orders at you and lavish you with praise.

He whistles. “Hey. Over here.” He claps the pads together as he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head. You blink at him as he undoes the straps on the bottom and throws them aside, striding over to you. His shorts ride up just slightly, exposing his flexing quads as he stalks towards you.

Oh, he’s solid.

He corners you against the ropes of the ring as he asks you again, his eyes burning into yours. “What. do you. think. went. wrong?” You blink up at him, words not coming easy now that you felt so exposed. He swallows thickly, exhaling hard through his nose. He turns to stand in the middle of the ring.

“C’mere.” He beckons you forward with his fingers.

Okay.

You stomp your leg slightly, rolling your eyes. “Why? I wanna be done now, what, we haven’t done enough?” His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare. He takes another harsh breath through his nose to steady himself, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your rising chest in your sports bra.

“I’m not going to ask you again. Come here.”

That’ll do it.

“Yes, sir.” You concede sarcastically. You kiss your teeth and sigh, making your way over to him, watching as you swear he blushes slightly. He adjusts the waistband on his shorts as you come close.

Oh.

He clears his throat. “Remember the hand to hand stuff we went through? Again.” He throws a couple of jabs towards you, travelling in a loose circle and you block them with your forearm just as quickly as they come.

He makes a point to get you comfortable, until he throws a hook which you swat downwards and try to twist his arm. You try to throw a hook of your own but you’re too slow. He ducks and wraps his arm around your waist, his other hand catching your fist and crossing it across your chest, allowing your weight to fall back on him as he carries you backwards a couple of steps.

You curse in frustration, wincing slightly as you feel a stitch coming. His breath is soft on your neck, cooling against the sweat. You’re hyper aware of his bare arm around your exposed stomach, the other holding your arm across your chest. The length of his body presses snugly against you as your breathing falls into a rhythm, his thumb rubbing small circles on your stomach.

“Hotchner!” You jump as the voice shouts from the hallway. You separate quickly, stretching out your neck as footsteps approach, McCall emerging from the dimly lit hallway. He’s in his work clothes and he looks agitated, his eyebrows pulled tight into a frown, mindless repetitive glances at his watch. “There you are.” He breathes out. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. A word?”

Hotch takes a cursory look back at you as you try to busy yourself with stretches, anything to not make eye contact. He steps out of the ring from under the ropes and while your ears are keenly trained on their conversation, you can’t quite make out anything they say, their voices hushed and intense. You figure you’re probably done for the day anyway and make a start on removing your gloves and tape.

You squeeze yourself past Agents Hotchner and McCall to get to the showers, offering a tight smile as you do, feet fast on the worn Lino floor. You step into the changing rooms but leave the door open just enough to eavesdrop. You curse yourself mentally for developing such a horrible habit, your grandmother’s voice in your head lecturing you on the evils of listening in to conversations which aren’t meant for you.

Still.

“What, and it mentioned me by name? How the-“ Hotch asks, his volume increasing.

Agent McCall shushes him.

“How the hell does he know my name? And how did it even get through? They didn’t see anything?” He hisses.

Your eyes widen. Another note? Your stomach starts to churn. Truth is, yes it had been your idea to move back and make yourself vulnerable, and yes you had felt independent and empowered when suggesting it. But the more time went on, the more you felt like a sitting duck, unable to escape the shadowy hands closing in around your neck.

Metro PD really needed to get better at talking quietly. You’d heard some officers outside your door a few days ago talking about how the FBI preliminary profile speculated that this guy was an obsessive, delusional stalker who’d likely kill himself, you and anybody else in his way, rather than let you go. Since then, those voices had played like echos throughout random points in the day, a sharp pang and your stomach would drop when you’d remember. The back of your neck would burn and you’d feel like your knees could give out.

How many people were you putting in danger because you didn’t want to compromise your freedom? Was your father right? Would they all be better off? Agent Hotchner had been on his list since the day you moved in, and now the psycho knew his name. You’d heard them, he’s never going to let you go, and now you’re a pawn, waiting to draw him out, unsure of whether they’ll even be able to stop him once he gets too close.

Your vision tunnels.

“He didn’t drop it off directly this time.” Agent McCall tells Hotch. “An Officer Mullbeck collected the mail from the mailroom to bring up but he didn’t do a sweep. I did when I arrived and found it lying inside a magazine.”

“So, what? He’s doing counter-surveillance now? Knows we’ve got guys posted outside?”

“Probably. I got a call that said they got a tiny bit of his face on camera, I’m on my way to the tech guy to figure out what they can get, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s good. Knows where the cameras are.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, your breathing shallow so as to not alert them that you’re listening in. Your heart races at the thought of this person, this animal just lurking in the shadows, nameless, faceless, ready to take you down with him.

McCall tells Hotch not to get too worked up and to just stick to routine while they work out a solid profile.

“Alright, but what do I tell her? She acts like she’s fine but I know she’s scared, anybody would be in this situation. Do I tell her about this note?” He asks. Your face softens a little at the concern in his voice, a small smile tugging at your mouth as you lean against the door.

Footsteps approach the changing room, you gently and quickly allow the weight of the door to fall almost all the way, allowing the last few centimetres to close slowly.

You hear a knock at the door. Hotch clears his voice as he shouts from the other end. “15 minutes! We gotta get to the gun range. I’ll wait out here.”

———

The air feels heavy in the Suburban, a lot on both of your minds but the unspoken words hang like smog in the SUV. He doesn’t know you heard him, but you did anyway - and the implications of what you heard - it would take some reconciling.

You glance at Hotch out of the corner of your eye, for the hundredth time since you got in the car, his right hand firm on the wheel, his left elbow perched on the window, index finger rubbing his lips. His frown is perpetual at this point, jaw tensing and relaxing. You can’t find the words.

“I can feel you looking at me.” He mutters matter-of-factly. “If you have something you wanna say, say it.” His eyes don’t leave the road. You feel heat rise in your face, embarrassed at your incredibly indiscreet attempt to gauge him. You come to a rolling stop in traffic as you turn slightly in the car seat.

His eyes are still trained on the road in front, an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact as there’s not much to look at other than the numerous lanes of standstill traffic. He extends his hand across the console and turns the heat up, hot air blowing your hair back.

“Well I-” You exhale sharply. Your brain feels foggy and jumbled as you try to the find the words to not make it seem like you’re insane for listening in to his conversation. You click your knuckles to try and centre yourself, a calming habit you’d had since childhood - unsurprisingly abhorrent to your grandmother.

You take a deep breath. “Well you haven’t said two words to me since we left the gym.” Not since Agent McCall came to see you. Plus, your jaw’s been tensing for about 20 minutes, you’ve been picking at your lips and you’re refusing to make eye contact.” You rush out, in a single breath, your voice an octave higher than usual. His eyes narrow, but he still won’t look at you, his arms moving from the steering wheel to the wing mirror, pretending to adjust it. He sniffs nonchalantly. “The real question is, what are you not telling me?” You continue.

You feel genuinely worked up now, realising that you’re giving him an out and if he doesn’t take it now, he’d be withholding key information about your case. You prod his bicep with your finger. “I’m talking to you.” You remark.

His jaw ticks. He finally puts the car in park, conceding to the idea that you’re going to be in traffic for a long while, and there’s nowhere and no way to escape. He still refuses to look at you, pretend squinting at the road ahead as he lets out a short laugh and you feel a strange pinch of guilt in your chest.

That’s not fair. It was his name on the new note, and you’d heard what he’d said back in the gym. He was worried about you. Not himself. You. “I thought I was supposed to be the profiler.” He finally mutters with a dry laugh.

He puts the car in drive as a green light shows, the car dead silent the rest of the way and through the parking lot as he pulls up. You don’t want to push it-

No. You deserve to hear it from him.

You bite the inside of your cheek again, the tension inside the car making it hard to breathe. “Hotch. Hey.” Your voice is soft. You duck your head to try and seek out his eyes. “Hey, c’mon, Hotch. Look at me. What is it?” You ask earnestly.

He shrugs it off. “It’s nothing.” He finally turns his head to glance at you, but you refuse to take your eyes off his. You stay like that a moment, fighting for him to just tell you.

He finally takes a deep breath and diverts his eyes. He swallows thickly before he clears his throat. “I-“ he shakes his head. “It’s nothing, really. I just don’t want you to panic.” You nod for him to continue. “McCall told me another note came today. But it was addressed to me.” He gauges your expression before he continues. “But it’s okay, I promise. He said they got a shot of him in the mailroom, McCall’s on his way to HQ now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he’s getting sloppy, and he’s making mistakes. It means we’re close.” He explains.

“But what does that mean for you?” You whisper.

“It means that the plan is working. He’s getting jealous, thinks I’m gonna take you away, and the more riled up he gets, the more likely it is he’ll make a mistake.” He reassures you, his eyes burning into yours.

“Take me away?” You chuckle.

“He thinks we’re a uh-” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, averting his gaze. You notice he does that when he’s flustered, small smile tugging at his lips, his dimples peeking through his beard. “-Well, he thinks we’re together.” His voice drops an octave. He clears his throat as he continues. “The whole point of me being assigned to you was that it would be believable, that we would be able to pass as a couple.” He stutters over his words a little, and you can’t help but return his small grin. It’s endearing.

His own heart sinks a little at that thought, guilt creeping in. He can’t help but reach out and grab your hand, to make sure you know he’ll do everything in his power to get this guy. Wants to somehow, some way put a smile on your face, hear your laugh, take all your worries away. Hates it when your eyes well up and you swallow your tears. Hates even more, the fact that he feels like this, feels like he needs to control what he says and does around you, knowing that the thoughts he has are dangerously close to becoming the words he truly wants to say, right on the tip of his tongue. All while his high-school sweetheart probably sits at home wondering if he’ll even make it home, worried sick about his safety, hoping that he’s okay. Hates that he’s even conflicted, that it’s even a thought in his mind.

Yet his hand still finds yours, large and rough, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles, anything to be close to you. He continues, “But look, don’t worry about anything else other than narrowing down a list of suspects for us and we’ll take care of the rest, okay? I got you.”

Yeah. He does, he thinks.

Yeah. He does, you think.

You know It’s to catch this person, this monster, hellbent on ruining your life and you don’t doubt that Hotch would do everything in his power to make sure you were okay. You were his assignment. You know he’s ambitious. You know he wants to rise through the ranks. You know it’s his job but you can’t help but think, anyway. And your heart stupidly sinks every time.

What kind of couple do you two make when the guy gets to go home to his girlfriend every night and you’re left thinking about what could’ve been?

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tags: @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy @euphoricmidoriya @archiveofadragon

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch fluff #hotch smut #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds

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thatsarcasticgemini · 4 years ago

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Poltergeist boyfriend

Bill Denbrough x Stanley Uris

When his parents told him that they were moving, Bill expected a new house or a futuristic apartment, but instead he got an old and rusty house. So there he was, big box full of books in hands, looking the house up and down with a sour look in his usually bright eyes. He looked at the window of the left upstairs bedroom, where he saw a figure looking at him. He looked around to find hid mom, but the figure was gone when he looked back. Stupid old house, stupid long road, stupid heavy box. Georgie, on the other hand was more than happy to go inside, running around the porch and urging everyone to move faster. Bill went inside and asked his mom to see his bedroom. She pointed the medium one upstairs, the same room where he saw that figure.

The next day he went to his new highschool. There, he met Eddie, Richie, Ben and Bev. He hit it off with Bev, but there was never gonna be anything between them, as Bev was dating Ben and Bill was very gay. The school was ok: the teachers were kind, the halls were clean and bullying was taken very seriously. Plus it was only five minutes away from home, which meant that Bill could get there in time to say bye to his parents before they left for work. For lunch he had mashed potatoes with chiken, his favourite. While he was eating, he heard a loud thud coming from his bedroom. Licking his fingers of grease, he went upstairs, ready to yell at Georgie for going in his bedroom. But the bedroom was empty. The only thing out of place was the picture of him and Mike, his old friend for the other town. When he picked it up he could swear he saw the same figure behind him in the glass. Placing the picture back, he ran downstairs to finish his meal. Little did he know, that would be the first of many encounters with the supernatural being.

Things started getting weirder and weirder over the next a few weeks. Wednesdays were Alphabet Soup days for the Denbroughs, but they got strange for Bill. Everytime he'd pick a spoon of letters, they would always spell things like: youre cute, i like u, i love u. He'd come home to see drawings of him and a boy on his desk. He blamed Georgie at first, but the young boy denied everything. All the drawings showed Bill either hugging or kissing this curly haired boy. He even saw this boy in his dreams, either looking out the window or playing the piano in the living room. Whenever Bill would open his english notebook he'd be met by short love poems, always signed S.U. But the worse happened when he brought people over.

The first time someone came over, it was boy named Jake, who was Bill's project partner. He only stayed in Bill's bedroom for five minutes, while Bill was making tea, when he cursed loudly and ran out of the house calling Bill nuts. Bill chased after him, confused and hurt, but looking to his bedroom window from the front yard, he saw the curly haired boy dissapear behind the curtains. This happened to everyone who came over to Bill's. It even happened to Eddie. The boy left after 30 minutes, saying someone was watching him and throwing stuff at his head. Bill was desperate, to the point where he begged Beverly to help him. Bev was a witch, so she was more than happy to help him figure the problem out. Her best guess was that a spirit that was bound to the house had taken a liking in Bill and was trying to chase potential partners away.

The plan was for Bill to hold hands with Bev, pretend to be dating so the spirit would give her its worst. That was exactly what happened, but Bev stood her ground. She ignored the yelling in her ear, the things thrown at her and the very scray ghost following her. At some point, Bill saw the ghost and warned Beverly that it was a diffrent one. The usual ghost was a boy with light curly hair and kind brown eyes. Beverly said that this scary ghost was a shape the boy was taking to scare her away. After a couple hours, Bev pulled Bill into the living room.

"Bill, I have to leave. Here you go. Inside this box there’s a ouija board. You have to paly alone, so that the poltergeist will have to join you. I also wrote you instructions on a paper I taped on the back of the box. This being really really likes you, so there’s nothing to worry about. I’m just worried I might anger it by staying longer. You’ll be fine.” and with that she left. Bill took the board and the planchette to his bedroom. Sitting down he read the mantra Bev gave him outloud and looked around.

“I’m alone, supernatural being, so you have to join me. Please join me.” With that, Bill lifted his head to see the curtains move. He was a little freaked out, but he calmed himself down. The scary ghost emerged form the other side of the room, looking around with wild eyes. It passed Bill by, yelling and ran downstairs. Bill was thanking God that neither Bev, nor his parents or Georgie were home to see the scene unfold. The door behind him opened again and Bill saw the boy coming in the room and sitting on the floor, oposite of where he sat. The supernatural being was in its regular form, probably calming down after seeing Bev was gone. It put its hand on the planchette moving it around to spell “Hi Bill”.

“Hi! Can you please tell me your name?”

“Stanley Uris. My family lived here 45 years ago.”

“But you’re supposed to be alive today.”

“I am, but I was killed in an accident at school. Two kids locked me in the boiler room as a prank. A teacher found me dead 12 days later. I was burried in the back yard of this house.”

“Why do you harass my friends? Why do you give me poems and drawing?”

“Cause I like you and I dunno how to express it. I chase people away cause I’m afraid you’ll like them more cause they’re alive. Was that girl your girlfriend?”

“She is a friend, I’m gay. I did that to make you respond.”

“I would’ve responded either way. You have nice eyes. And I like your drawings. You’re cute when you are focused.”

“You’re cute now. Is there any way I can make you be alive, sort of. Like in Beetlejuice?”

“I am dead. What’s Beetlejuice?”

“A musical about a demon. If someone said his name three times, he could be touched and seen, it was almost like he was real again.”

“I am not a demon, but I get it. You can make me real, sort of real. By allowing me to come into your world at will. You need black salt and moon water. Your witch friend has them for sure. You also need a picture of me. You can find one in the attic. You can do it tomorrow. I’ll guide you.” and with that, Stan moved the planchette to goodbye and went back to the window, where he vanished. Bill instantly called Bev and asked her for black salt and moonwater. Bev was happy to help again.

The next day, right after Georgie left to meet up with his friends, Bill dashed to the attic and looked in all the furniture until he found a picture of Stan. It was a picture of him playing the piano. Bill took it, ran to his room to get the board, took the salt and water from his backpack and ran to his bedroom. Stanley responded in less than a second.

“You got everything?”

“Yes, but you need to tell me what to do with them.”

“You need to go to the backyard and take 27 small steps from the back door forward. You’ll be somewhat above my body. You need to sprinkle salt around yourself in a circle, emerge the photo in moonwater and put it in front of your feet. Put some more salt on the picture and say this: I, Bill Denbrough, allow Stanley Uris to come back into this world at free will. I will be the only one to see him. He’ll step in the land of the living and come out of it whenever he wants. That should do it. I’ll be watching you.”

“Will I be able to touch you that way?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be able to leave the house?”

“Yes. I’ll also be able to return to land of the dead if I’ll feel like it.”

“Cool. Ok. Let’s do it.” And with that Bill went in the backyard and did exactly as Stanley had instructed him. At first it seemed like nothing happened, so Bill decided to go back inside. Once inside, he felt a hand on his shoulder while going up the stairs. Turning around he came face to face with Stanley.

“Hi, Bill! Wow you have soft skin. I have soft skin. Your clothes look nice. Mine are kinda old. Your hair is so soft as well. Mine is curlier then yours I don’t really like it that much. What do you think? Is my hair that bad?” Stanley started rambling. Bill just looked at him with wide eyes. He was real. Bill took a step forward, throwing himself in Stanley’s arms. Stanley didn’t respond at first, but hugged back in the end. It was going to be one hell of a ride, teaching Stanley how to be human again, how would his parent’s react, showing Stanley the modern world, but he was ready. After all, Bill would do anything for love.

Hello, Erica here! I just wanted to thank @bi-teen-angst for the headcannons posted their account. Sorry for the bad grammar and for the fact that I am 1 year late with this. I wish everyone the best.

#stanley uris #it2017 #it 2019 #stenbrough #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #oneshot #stanbrough

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sleepyboisinc · 4 years ago

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soo,,, the secret au huh?

its a band au. its a fucking band au. im posting this super impulsively, and it has no editing i think so if there are any mistakes,,,, fuck it idc

also this ends in a sort of cliffhanger i was gonan write more but i got tired of writing and never got the motivation to again im sorry lul

this au isnt just by me, theres other ppl involved in it too!! mainly bad timezone gang in technohive but others also helped :)

anywaysyysyshdhsh yea read if u want to ig

wilbur soot was discovered by a record label when he was 15 after he wrote the squid song. they didn't care that the lyrics were objectively bad, it was wilbur’s voice that grabbed their attention. they interviewed him and decided that they were gonna give him a chance. wilbur, who had always dreamed of being a singer, jumped at the opportunity. the interview went very well. they even asked him to sing a few songs and he nailed it. however, he wasn’t perfect. he still needed some vocal training. they spent an entire day discussing and signing paperwork. the label ended up arranging for wilbur to attend music classes to enhance his voice and get better at the guitar.

time-skip about 3 years. wilbur is 18 and is phenomenal at singing and the guitar. he starts going to uni and meets his roommate, an american student named technoblade who plays the violin. wilbur and techno quickly become friends, bonding over music and other mutual interests like video games. techno plays mini gigs on the street and at bars close to campus to make some money for himself. particularly at a little bar called “the harpy’s nest”

one day, wilbur gets bored sitting at home alone, so he goes to watch techno’s gig. he arrives halfway through the set and watches for about 5 minutes. after the gig is over, he watches as techno interacts with the bartender, a young man only slightly older looking than the two of them. techno notices wilbur and calls him over, introducing him to the bartender, philza. the two immediately hit it off and by the end of the night, they’ve exchanged numbers and a promise to meet up phil’s next shift.

over the next few months, the trio became best friends. wilbur learns that phil plays the drums and has several eps. one ep in particular, “hardcore2” blew up a bit in their general area and phil gained a bit of traction as a musician. the three boys spend most of their time hanging out at wilbur and techno’s dorm, or at phil’s bar. they stay up till ungodly hours playing video games and talking. their other friends dub them the sleepy boys, because of how tired they all are the next day.

however, as the months fly by, the date wilbur is supposed to finish training and write his first songs draws closer. he worries he’s bitten more than he can chew and he wonders if he’s even ready for fame. a month later he is assigned a manager, pete. pete says that his training contract has expired, meaning that he's ready to start writing his album. wilbur says that he needs to think a bit before he starts. pete was about to tell him he can’t have extra time to think because he signed a contract, but seeing the look of stress on wilbur’s face, he allows him 2 days before he starts. wilbur goes on a walk to think. he curses himself for second-guessing himself now. he realizes he doesn’t wanna do this alone. then he thinks of techno and phil.

what if they formed a band? that way he wouldn’t have to do this alone. he’s sure that they'd love to make a band together as well. he goes to them and… they agree. he goes to pete and asks him if they can be a three-piece band. pete says he needs to ask his higher-ups first. wilbur doesn’t hear from pete for 4 days and starts to worry. what if they won’t allow it? it wasn't part of the agreement so they have every right to turn him down. at the end of the fourth day, pete calls him and says that the higher-ups have agreed. they had to choose a group name by the end of 2 days. the trio was over the moon.

this was the start of sleepy bois inc.

their record label wasn’t massive, so the boys took to playing on the streets and in bars to gain some traction. they slowly started gaining recognition and grew faster when they made a youtube channel. they released several eps and a few albums, and gained a following over the next few years.

their first big break came 3 years after the band was formed. they had a decent following, about 50k subs on youtube and slightly less on other platforms. one day, jschlatt from lunch club, a massive boy band, got their music recommended to him on youtube. he’s intrigued and listened to it, and was surprised at how much he liked it. he liked it so much, that he decided to shout them out on twitter.

sleepybois inc’s popularity skyrocketed, and the members of both bands grew close. when lunch club announced their next tour, they revealed that sleepybois inc would open for them. the fans freak out, and many iconic moments and inside jokes form from this tour.

tommy innit was 19 years old and was preparing to become a musician. he was almost done with the 4 years of vocal and keyboard training provided by a record label and had to make a decision: be a solo artist, or join a band. if he chose the band, he has another 2 options: be assigned into a band that already exists under this label or make a new one with people that he knows.

tommy is also a massive fan of lunch club, and sees that jschlatt shouted out a band called sleepybois inc. he likes them a lot and becomes a fan of their stuff too. what tommy didn’t know is that they were at the same label he was training at and were open for a 4th member.

back on the music, tommy ended up going with band. he debated between making a band or being assigned one. after a while, he ended up going with being assigned. he was nervous about this because he'd have to integrate himself into their dynamic and feared that fans won’t like him, but he figured it’d be easier than making his friends all learn instruments.

being assigned a band is a process, so tommy had a couple of months free. during this time, lunch club was on tour with sleepybois inc and tommy got vip tickets to a show. so he went to the meet and greet and gave his number to sleepybois inc saying ”hmu if u need a keyboardist lul” as a joke (this is a very important detail i will include it f u)

so come around the day of tommy getting assigned. he has to do auditions for the bands that the record label selected for him to join. management has narrowed it down to the youngest 2 bands at their label who are open for a member: one of which is sleepybois inc.

it had been a month since tommy interviewed for sleepybois inc. he did pretty well at it, and had been talking to the boys a lot since then. he still hadn’t had news on whether he joined though.

it was 3 am. tommy had been working on school work for hours and had only just managed to finish up for the night. he settled into bed and was about to fall asleep when his phone rang. not bothering to look at who was calling, tommy picked it up

“who the fuck is calling me at 3 in the morning i swear to god-” tommy whispered angrily.

“tommy?” wilbur’s voice rang out “wait shit- this is probably a really bad time im sorry. but we have something important to tell you.”

tommy’s eyes widened.

“we’ve decided that you can join the band”

the band and their label spent a few weeks discussing how they would go about this. they boys decided they would need a name change too, and ended up settling on the name ‘purple pandas’. however, a new member and a name change would practically transform the band completely, so they had to go about announcing this the right way.

they ended up settling on posting a youtube video titled ‘making some changes’. seeing the announcement for this sent fans into a frenzy, frantically tweeting about what it could be. many rumours spread fast and it even got into a few news articles. conspiracies started floating around about what changes could possibly be taking place.

i cant write this shit no more bye

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calamarispiderart · 4 years ago

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whats your au about? :0 any info?

so, assuming this is for the most recent stuff ive been posting--im not a hundred percent sure, but im gonna take this ask as a way to think thru it!

so. what i know for sure is that everyone, presumably, is small enough to do things like use mushrooms as umbrellas and acorns as hats and a single very small button to fasten their satchels and such. theres a specific kind of little people that i draw often with the ears and the tail and little paws? they are whatever that species is, which i need to think through...

i imagine they live in trees and bushes and under the dirt in deep tunnels under the earth, foraging for food. i also think itd be fun if, maybe, birds and mice were friends and possibly ways to travel a little faster, although they can already run very fast.

i Dont think this is like the borrowers though--while there are some similarities, the biology and way of life is quite different (???). for example, i think tommy lives in a hollowed out tree stump, and wanders around the woods between a variety of litte houses hollowed out of the earth. theres a dog (sunkist) who often jumps the fence of their home to visit tommy and eventually leaves completely to live in the woods!

gman lives high up in the tree branches, using old owl homes and is friends with a flock of crows that protect the woods.

benrey lives underground in a little pit of pebbles and rocks that occasionally gets overrun with rain water--during the rainy season they usually live either with the boomers or tommy, or stops up the entrance to their home and hibernates. they eat mushrooms a lot (this is in part due to the fact i associate them heavily with mushrooms now hdgdbdsg)

gordon i think Also wanders around the woods, using the same little homes tommy does. he does have a main place that he stays, partially buried under a rosemary bush. he raises a little mouse called joshua, and thankfully is on good enough terms with gman that the crows tend more towards protecting the two over eating them. gordon also has a prosthetic made by coomer out of scrap metals and wood, due to losing his arm to a Very bad experience with a cat

darnold lives near the forest stream, and also wanders often! he collects plants and seeds and makes potions with them--usually health and stuff, like a medic. he is also a big fan of soups and stews, and has a relatively (kind of) big pot he carries all his stuff in and straps to his back when travelling

i dont really know much about forzen? i think he also lives in a tree, nearer to the Big Peoples homes, and often hangs out with the cat that lives nearby. this is the same cat that took gordons arm, but forzen doesnt actually know that.

coomer lives in an area nearer to an old mine, dug out into moss covered stones and such. he collects stones and whatever scrap metal is around, and has a little furnace and metal working area--its Very dangerous to be around though due to how high the heat can be and how small everyone is. he makes a lot of needles and has figured out a number of different prosthetics.

bubby lives with coomer as well, but was raised by birds! some crows, the same ones gman is friends with. he Also helps with maintaining the furnace, and sews clothes with fibres made of dog fur and stuff i think? and some plants, although i need to do more research.

i think out of everyone, the boomers have the most stable living place--the mine is old and forgotten, and most people get fiercely attacked by crows when trying to enter the woods. theres Definitely some stuff i need to flesh out and this is all just thinking on the spot? i hope to draw more for it though hhsbshs. idk what exactly its About, since im mostly in a world building stage, but i suppose its just about their lives and stuff? thankyou for sending the ask though hsbshs!!

#calamarispeaks #ask #anon #still no au name...#hgsbshd this is a Lot of words i hope thats ok!!#im still figuring stuff out--mostly on the spot #hlvrai #hlvrai woods au

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fleckcmscott · 5 years ago

Text

Watch What Happens - Chapter 6

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 3,241

Y/N tried to avoid looking at her watch as she sat across from Matt, on the other side of his desk, taking dictation in shorthand. The last time she checked, probably five minutes ago, it was only 11:12 AM. Even as she wrote, catching every detail, her mind was willing the clock to go faster. She'd be meeting Arthur in under two hours. Her lips curved upwards at the thought of him.

Shortly after leaving him at the Newkirk station in Otisburg, after they'd gotten donuts, she'd realized the mistake she'd made in not getting his number. While it was true she'd continue to work in his area, she knew the chance she'd run into him a third time had been slim. Sure, he'd told her he lived on Anderson, wherever the hell that was, but that was it. She supposed she could have looked for his name on the buzzers of all the buildings on that street, if she was inclined to be a creep about it.

While she’d dated casually, it had been a long time since she'd experienced any sort of infatuation. She simply hadn't had time for it. In the seven or so years before she'd come to Gotham, she'd done legal work part-time and shared a house with her father, who'd been wasting away with dementia.

That had been the hardest period of her life, more difficult than her marriage amicably falling apart years prior. Her sister hadn’t been able to help much - she had a family of her own. And her mother had passed away shortly after her father’s diagnosis. It had been all on Y/N’s shoulders.

When she hadn't been at work, she'd been stuck in the daily grind of keeping her father calm, clean, and fed. It was never easy. The lack of time for herself had taken a toll on her. There were days when all she'd wanted was to be alone, but what she'd be left with was the same chores as always, and guilt for wishing it would end. When he died, she sold or donated most of her stuff and left.

Since moving, she appreciated not having anyone depend on her. Not having to answer to someone. Being on her own. Arthur had thrown a wrench into that. The feelings he’d stirred in her were unexpected. And lovely. But asking for his number then would have been leading them both on. She hadn't decided if she wanted him to pursue her - yet.

But if fate was going to throw an awkwardly charming, handsome guy at her three times, she wasn't going to argue.

The reason she'd been on that night's late train was the broken roller feed of the office photocopier. Multiple copies of motions that were over fifty pages long had to be made manually. She'd removed the high-heels from her aching feet and copied each page one by one. It had kept her aggravatingly late.

The laughter had gotten her attention, first. She'd assumed someone was having too good of a time. But when she'd seen him there, the clown with his hand over his mouth, it became obvious he was in pain. Once she saw the assholes in suits advancing on him, not helping hadn't been an option.

She'd been relieved to see Arthur again, but the circumstances made it bittersweet. The situation, the laminated card, his condition. It had clicked for her why he was shy and reserved. As soon as he'd taken off that damned wig, she'd known she would give him her business card.

"Y/N?" Matt's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you with me?"

She blinked. "Yeah, sorry.” Her knuckles popped as she stretched her fingers. “This letter is going on a little too long. My hand's starting to cramp.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Yeah, you're right. We'll come back to it later." Spinning around, he grabbed the oversize mug of coffee sitting on the bookshelf behind him. "You look at that Wayne file yet? Sorry we didn't get to it earlier in the week."

"I've actually been trying to figure out how to talk with you about it," she said, furrowing her brow.

"Well, that's an odd thing to say."

She tapped her pen against her legal pad. "I've looked at the file extensively. Mostly, it's motions back and forth for continuances, eminent domain filings, petty bickering...” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But there wasn't evidence of anything being claimed by either party."

"Evidence?" he asked. "The buildings are deathtraps."

"Only if you read the Wayne Foundation's motions,” she countered. "I went to one of them on Saturday, and-"

Matt put his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "You what?"

Rolling her eyes, she waved his concern off. "No one saw me. Just an old lady getting her paper. It doesn't matter." She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not an architect or engineer, but those buildings aren't in the shape the foundation is claiming.

"They’ve also said the buildings are almost empty, but a lot of people still live in the one I visited." She wiggled her foot under the desk before continuing. Matt wouldn’t have a heart attack, right? "They're getting letters telling them they have to leave within ninety days or forfeit their belongings."

He tapped his hand on the desk, looking vacantly at the surface. "Do you have any of these letters?"

Hurriedly, she went to her desk to grab the file. "The woman who saw me gave me this,” she said over her shoulder. “Don't worry. She doesn't know where I work." She dug out the envelope and came back, handing it over.

Glancing at her, he took out the letter. His face remained calm as he read it. "It's not from any Wayne organization," he said. "They all have 'Wayne' in the name. I've never heard of Renew Corp."

"I know, but wouldn't this be a weird coincidence?" she asked.

After a minute or so, he stuffed the document back in the envelope. "You don't know what Renew Corp. is doing. You have one letter from one person."

Slight exasperation entered her voice. "And the fact the buildings aren't as described? I've been going to City Hall on my lunch breaks the last two days to look up code violations. Only one address had them, and that was seven years ago."

Matt nodded, wringing his hands lightly. His voice was low when he eventually spoke. "I need you to stop this inquiry."

She was stunned. "I beg your pardon? Have we met?"

"I'm serious, Y/N." He tossed the envelope in the garbage can under his desk, then looked at her. Despite what he was saying, his eyes were friendly. "We have a duty to our client. That's the Wayne Foundation, not these tenants. We can't go sniffing around on their behalf."

Heat filled her as she clenched her jaw. Disappointing didn't begin to cover how this conversation was turning out. "That wasn't what I was doing," she said, measuring her words. "I was trying to back up the foundation's claims. What do you want me to do? Provide photos of peeling paint and linoleum?"

He gestured dismissively. "You don't need to worry about that. The foundation's big enough. It'll get the land. The whole thing just needs to work its way through the courts."

Y/N flinched. "Why did you put me on this case? To do more paperwork? Why did you want me to go through it?"

"For context. You're good at your job. And, yes, it's paperwork, but it's important." He huffed. "The Wayne Foundation wants to open a medical clinic in that area. It needs to go smoothly. With all the cuts going on right now, unemployment... Think of the jobs it'll provide. The services it'll offer."

She shook her head, not answering. This was beginning to feel like the old boys network in her dinky little hometown.

After some time, Matt stood. "Let's take a break."

Taking the hint, Y/N left his office, closing the door behind her. This was the first time she'd been told to let an investigation go. She knew the Wayne Foundation was their biggest client. But it frustrated her that her firm was willing to look past what she'd found. She had enough experience in the field to witness questionable legal actions. None of them had threatened hundreds of people before.

"Hey," Patricia said from behind her desk, drawing Y/N's attention. "I heard what he said. Don't listen to him. Keep doing what you're doing.”

Y/N arched a brow at her. "I wasn't planning to stop."

“Good. He doesn't have to know." Patricia chuckled. "Well, until he does."

“I’ll remember your wise words when I’m in the unemployment line,” Y/N teased.

Patricia snorted, then folded her arms over her chest. "Now, tell me more about this date you're going on."

"I don't know if it's a date. I think it's a date." Laughing, Y/N shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it being a date." She considered her next words carefully, wanting to protect Arthur's privacy. "Like I said yesterday, I helped an acquaintance on the subway with his bags.” Y/N raised a finger when she saw Patricia’s mouth open. “And yes, before you ask, he’s good-looking. But too skinny for you, I think.” She sat on the corner of Patricia’s desk. “Anyhow, he invited me to pie to thank me. Should I bring you back a slice?"

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to come back." Patricia gave her a wink. “Promise?"

Y/N nodded back sharply. "Promise."

~~~~~

Before going outside, Y/N observed Arthur through the lobby windows. He was pacing between the building and the lamp post on the other side of the sidewalk. The expression on his face alternated between excitement and worry. And he was smoking like a man on his way to the gallows. It was sweet, but she wanted he'd be able to relax around her.

Letting her eyes rove over him, she saw he was wearing another loose sweater, gray this time, usual collared shirt peeking out at the top. That tan jacket. Admittedly, she was hoping he'd wear something that accentuated his narrow waist, the way his vest had on the subway. She knew she shouldn't have noticed it, given what had happened. But as they'd strolled down the street together, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Arthur straightened and flicked away his cigarette when she stepped out, his face lighting up. "Hey." His gaze held hers. "How are you?"

"This morning was trying, but," she grinned, "the day’s much better now." The smile he wore in response was the widest she'd seen on him so far. Still bashful, but enough for her to notice his dimples and one crooked tooth. Get a grip, Y/N. She swallowed hard and pointed him to where they were headed. "There's a diner around the next corner. I've never had their pie, but I'm sure it's good."

They arrived within minutes. Arthur picked a booth for two in the corner next to a window. After removing his jacket and tossing it on the seat, he reached out to help Y/N out of her coat. And she let him.

A waitress came over immediately. "What'll you two be having?"

"Blueberry pie, please," Y/N said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Just coffee."

When the server was out of sight, Y/N leaned forward. "How are you inviting me for pie and not ordering any?" She swatted his forearm playfully.

He moved his hands to his lap. "Sorry. I'm not usually hungry."

"You'll just have to try mine," she said. The left corner of his mouth lifted at that and he gave a slight nod.

She studied him, the small scar above his upper lip, the laugh lines on his face, the way the sunlight brought out the various tones of his chestnut locks. It was hard not to notice how stiffly he was sitting. He wanted to be there - she could see that in the way his green eyes admired her. But his body still radiated apprehension. How on earth could she ease his mind? Maybe being straightforward would be best. "Don't be anxious around me, Arthur. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

His shoulders loosened a little. "I don't mean to-" He stopped abruptly when the coffee and slice of pie were delivered. Grabbing the sugar dispenser, he put three servings into his mug, concentrating on his stirring. "I'm glad you came."

It was a small sentence, but Y/N sensed the effort if had taken for him to speak it. How much work had it taken for him to ask her out yesterday? She cut a piece of her pie. "So, I know you like sweets. You're a stand-up. And you work as a clown, I guess?" After tasting it, she offered the fork to Arthur.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he smirked and took it from her. She wondered if his fingers skimming against hers were intentional. "That's my job. I'm a party clown. But I'm thinking of focusing on my comedy more." He took a bite. "This is good."

"It’s my favorite," she said. "You should tell me a joke. I’d love to hear one."

"All right." His forehead creased in concentration. "Um. Why did the old man like having insomnia?"

Y/N chewed thoughtfully, wondering where this was going. "Hm. I don't know. Why?"

"Because he didn't have to sleep with his wife." Arthur's eyes flicked to hers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

A short, sharp laugh escaped her. The joke hadn't disappointed. And his sudden boldness surprised her. She wanted to see more of it. "That was a good one, Mr. Fleck."

His face softened at that. After a moment, he asked, "What's your job?"

"I'm a paralegal." When she tried to offer the fork to him again, he politely declined.

"What's that?" he asked.

Good. If he didn't know what her job was, he'd probably not been in any legal trouble. "I work at a law firm. Prepare for hearings and trials. Do lots of paperwork. I investigate, too, though I think it annoys my boss." A small snort escaped her. "I go to meetings. It's all very mundane."

Arthur placed another cigarette between his lips. "I don't think I could ever do a desk job."

"It's not for everyone," she said, waving his comment off. "And I work too much. But I love it." She grabbed a napkin from the nearby dispenser and wiped her mouth. "Do you have any hobbies? Besides comedy, I mean."

After lighting up and taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. "When I'm not working, I mostly take care of - of my mother,” he said gently.

A tightness entered her chest. "I'm sorry she’s not well."

"She's been sick a long time." He rested his face on his hand. "Her disability isn't enough to cover the rent and everything, so I live with her." His fingers tapped his cheek. "It's easier that way. And with my condition..."

Unsure how to continue, or even if she should, Y/N folded her hands together on the table. "You don't owe me an explanation. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, I don’t mind." He shook his head. "It’s just- I don't talk to people a lot. Outside of work."

She tapped her foot against his under the table. "You're fine," she said. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair, toothy grin spreading across his face. Her heart quickened at that. She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "May I ask you about what was on your card? Your condition?"

“What about it?” he asked softly.

“How long have you had it?”

Arthur straightened, taking a drag off his cigarette. The smoke curled around his face as he frowned at the table. “As long as I can remember.”

She bit her lip. “Is there anyway to help?”

“Changing positions. Breathing exercises. Distraction. They don’t always.” Closing his eyes, he let out a sad chuckle. “It happens at the worst times.”

“Like on the train?”

He pushed his mug away as he signed. “Like on the train.”

Y/N felt like an ass, a well-meaning jerk. She’d been too flippant the other night when she’d told him, simply, that his laughter was “fine.” Sitting here with him, it was obvious his condition caused him distress. And now her genuine attempt at getting to know him had made him uncomfortable. The light mood when he’d picked her up had been replaced with unease. She reached out to touch the back of his left hand as it rested on the table.

His eyes shot to hers; she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

“It’s all right,” she intoned. Smiling, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me.”

A sad, hiccuped laugh left his throat. His thumb caressed the web between her thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I think I imagined you. That you can’t be real.”

Y/N snickered at that. “Haven’t my questions annoyed you enough to know I’m here?”

He stamped out his cigarette in the table’s built-in ashtray, then got up. “That isn’t the word I’d use.”

After she stood, he helped her with her coat. “What word would you use?” she asked.

The sidelong glance he gave her made her blush profusely.

“Do you have to go back to work already?” The disappointment on his face was plain to see. He pulled out his wallet and placed a few dollar bills on the table.

“No, I have some extra time. Help me walk off the pie,” she said.

He grinned, clearly happy to oblige.

~~~~~

When Y/N returned to work, she leaned back on the lobby door and giggled. Dammit. She needed to pull herself together before going back to her office. Taking the stairs to the third floor would be best.

She’d enjoyed the date (it had definitely been a date) with Arthur even more than expected. After she’d expressly told him his condition wasn’t a black mark, he’d opened up. She liked hearing him speak, wondering what else was hiding under that timidity of his. He’d even tried to crack a couple more jokes. They’d been corny, not particularly funny, and she’d groaned instead of laughed. He’d looked confused at first, but he seemed to understand she was delighted.

He’d pointed out a few of his favorite spots in the district, places she wouldn’t have ever found on her own. A comedy club here, a consignment shop there. Music had come up. Surprisingly, he’d said outright that he was a good dancer. Dancing was a mystery to her. She couldn’t even clap in time. But it helped explained the grace he sometimes displayed.

At the end, when he’d accompanied her back to her firm’s building, he’d looked at her like he wanted to kiss her. He’d either been too shy or respectful to do it, and simply nodded his goodbye. Either way, that was what sealed it for her. She didn’t repeat the mistake of letting him go without getting his address and phone number.

It had been a long time since she wanted to really know someone, to lighten their day and have their presence brighten hers. It felt a little alarming - but mostly wonderful.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @stephieraptorr

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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becasbelt · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: G Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Characters: Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Post-PP3

Summary:

Beca and Chloe get stuck in a massive traffic jam in LA. Boredom, teasing, and fluff ensue.

* * *

-5:26 PM-

“Come on! Let’s get a fucking move on, people!”

Chloe giggles at Beca’s annoyance with the traffic in front of them. “I really don’t think that’s going to help this situation at all, babe.”

Beca honks the car’s horn and glares at the person in the car next to them when they glance over. “Well it should,” she stews. “This is fucking ridiculous. I hate LA traffic.”

When Beca had kissed Chloe on the USO tour, Chloe’s entire world had changed for the better. After years of dropping hints, Beca finally figured out that Chloe was in love with her and admitted that she was in love with her, too, after opening for DJ Khalid. Fast forward a few months to now where Chloe went to vet school in West Hollywood while Beca worked on her first album. They were both living their dreams, and Chloe was still pinching herself to make sure it was all real.

Right now, though, it didn’t really feel like a dream. They had gone out for a quick grocery run at around 4:00 and were now apparently stuck in rush hour traffic. In the past half hour they’d gone about one mile, much to Beca’s frustration.

“What’s even going on up there?” Beca asks. “Why the hell aren’t we moving?”

“You know how bad traffic can be here,” Chloe shrugs as she scrolls through her phone. “This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but I feel like it isn’t usually this bad.” Beca honks the horn again, as if that will make the mile long traffic ahead of them move faster.

They sit in silence while Beca stews and grumbles, the sounds of cars honking and the radio playing softly filling up the space around them. Beca cranes her neck to try and see farther in front of her, but to no avail. Eventually, she slumps down in her seat in defeat.

“Well now we’re not even moving at all,” the grumpy brunette laments, putting the car in park. She crosses her arms angrily over her chest.

“Apparently there’s a huge crash like three miles ahead of us,” Chloe informs her, pulling up a news coverage clip from her Twitter feed and passing her phone over to show Beca. “A bunch of semis collided and spilled stuff all over the highway. It’s pretty bad.”

Beca scowls at the device and hands it back. “Great. GREAT. This is just perfect. I love this for us right now.”

“At least we didn’t have any plans for tonight,” Chloe says, trying to sound positive.

Beca just groans and hits her head against the steering wheel.

-5:45 PM-

“Ugh, can we skip this song?”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“It’s fine, but it’s way too happy for this situation.”

“Well, in that case, I think I’ll keep it on. You need a little positivity right now, Bec.”

“You know, if I didn’t love you so much I’m positive that I would hate you.”

“That’s the spirit!”

-6:02 PM-

“Okay, that’s it, I’m turning the car off,” Beca announces after they haven’t moved in twenty minutes. She turns the key in the ignition, shutting the engine off but keeping the music on.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “You know, now that you’ve turned the car off we’ll probably start moving soon. That’s usually how it goes.”

“All the more reason to turn it off, then,” Beca replies with a cheeky grin. She reaches down and unbuckles her seatbelt, and Chloe does the same. “You know,” Beca says a moment later, tearing her eyes away from the cars around them to look at Chloe. “If I have to get stuck in a giant traffic jam, I’m glad you’re stuck here with me.”

A grin spreads on Chloe’s face and she bites her bottom lip. “You’re such a sap, Mitchell,” she teases, reaching over to pinch at Beca’s cheek. Beca swats her hand away.

“You see, this is why I never use sincerity,” Beca complains with a glare. “I’m always made fun of whenever I do.”

Chloe softens slightly. “That’s only because I love it so much when you’re sincere,” she says sweetly, leaning in to kiss Beca’s cheek. She pulls back to see a slight blush on the other girl’s face. “And I’m really glad I’m here with you, too.”

Beca grins and looks away shyly, turning up the music’s volume instead of answering.

-6:19 PM-

Chloe huffs and slumps down in her seat. “I’m borrrred.”

Beca, who’s busy answering emails, glances over at her. “Yeah, I know. I heard you the first fifteen times you told me.”

“Well I’m bored because you’re not paying attention to me,” Chloe laments. She sticks her hand out the open window. “I thought we were in this together, but you’re off in superstar land.”

Beca winces and clicks off her phone, setting it in the cup holder. “Sorry, it’s just Theo asking about some stuff for the album.”

A car nearby starts blasting “Elmo’s World” from its speakers, and Chloe is momentarily distracted before responding to Beca. “What does he want this time?”

Beca starts shuffling between radio stations. “He doesn’t like some of the lyrics for the one we’re recording tomorrow, so he was sending over some revisions.”

Chloe hums. “Did you like them?”

“Eh,” Beca shrugs, apparently indifferent. “They were fine. I wasn’t too attached to the original lyrics anyways.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a while and Chloe turns her attention back to the car still playing Elmo’s theme song, intrigued.

“Okay, well now I’m bored.”

Chloe looks over at Beca. “Oh how the turntables,” she says, quoting The Office with a raised eyebrow.

Beca rolls her eyes. “I hate that show,” she claims.

“Sure you do,” Chloe says, nodding her head. “That’s why I caught you watching it when I got home the other day.”

“That means nothing,” Beca defends immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. “It just happened to be on when I turned on the TV.”

Chloe hums in disbelief. “If that’s what you’re going to stick with, then good for you.”

Beca huffs. “Well, it’s the truth, so,” she punctuates the unfinished thought with a tongue click.

“You want to watch it right now?”

“…well I guess it couldn’t hurt. Since we’re both bored and all.”

-6:51 PM-

“Babe, this is your song!”

“Okay, we’re changing it for sure this time. Ow! What was that for, dude?”

“Beca Mitchell, don’t you dare switch away from this song.”

“Okay, okay. Jesus, did you really have to hit me that hard?”

“It was a preventive strike.”

“It was mean.”

“Poor baby. Do you want me to kiss it better?”

“I mean… it might make me feel a little better. It’s worth a shot, at least.”

-7:08 PM-

Chloe stifles a grin as Beca slyly places a hand on her lower thigh. She continues to flip through the car manual she found in the glove box like she hasn’t noticed. “Hey, Bec, I think I finally know how to change the time on the clock. They have complete step-by-step instructions in here and everything.”

“That’s nice,” Beca says distractedly. Her fingers begin to draw lazy circles along the bare skin on the inside of her thigh, slowly making their way farther up Chloe’s leg. Chloe clears her throat to focus herself.

“We can also change the display to show what cardinal direction we’re going in, too.”

“Neat.”

“And if you hold down the hazard button for ten seconds, the car will self-destruct.”

“Awesome.”

Chloe snaps the booklet shut. “Beca, you know we can’t start something right now,” she lectures, gesturing down at her lap, and while Beca blushes and looks guilty, she doesn’t remove her hand. “There are literally people all around us.”

Beca shrugs. “I don’t think they’re paying attention,” she says lowly, lightly dragging her fingers along smooth skin. Chloe gulps and resists the urge to spread her legs further. “No one would notice if we just…”

She trails off as she leans forward to place a warm kiss on Chloe’s jawline. Chloe sighs and closes her eyes at the feeling of wet heat moving along her neck. She weaves a hand through Beca’s hair and tilts her head to allow her more access.

Chloe’s eyes lazily drift back open and she’s met with the sight of an old lady in the car next to theirs staring right at them. Embarrassment replaces the arousal in Chloe’s body, and she hastily pushes Beca off of her. Beca looks at her in confusion.

“Uh, people are paying attention, apparently,” Chloe explains, gesturing subtly to the old lady. Beca’s confusion is immediately overtaken by shock and a blush spreads across her cheeks. She waves awkwardly to the lady and pivots in her seat to stare look pointedly out the other window.

Okay, so they definitely needed to keep their hands to themselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Chloe files the information away for future reference.

-7:32 PM-

Beca groans and pushes her seat as far away from the steering wheel as she can, stretching out her legs. “It’s too damn hot in here.”

Chloe, who’s waving the car’s insurance papers in front of her face to cool off, nods in agreement. “It really is. Are you sure we can’t turn on the car for a little bit?”

“We’re pretty low on gas,” Beca says hesitantly. “I don’t want to risk running out as soon as we finally get out of this mess.”

Chloe pouts but doesn’t fight her on it. She looks out the window and sees some people ahead of them standing outside of their cars talking and gets an idea. Beca peers curiously over at her when Chloe opens her door.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I am getting some fresh air,” Chloe states as she gets out of the car. The blood starts rushing through her legs like normal again while a gentle breeze brushes against her sweaty forehead. Chloe lets out a sigh of relief. She closes the door behind her and rounds to the driver’s side of the car.

Beca squints up at her through her open window. “You’re really going to be one of those people that gets up and walks around during a traffic jam?”

Chloe leans down, resting her forearms on the window sill and sticking her head back in the car a bit. “I don’t see any other options. It’s better than sweating through our clothes in the hot car.”

Beca glances down at her slightly damp t-shirt and plucks at it with her fingers, frowning. “You may have a point.” She turns off the car all the way and pushes open her door, joining Chloe on the road. Chloe claps her hands in excitement.

“It’s kind of neat just standing out on the highway like this, don’t you think?” she asks, turning around in place to take in her surroundings. Beca chuckles and lets her gaze drift to some cars off in the distance.

“It is a small sort of accomplishment, I suppose.”

Chloe takes one of Beca’s hands and tugs her to the trunk of their car. “I’m hungry. Didn’t we buy some granola bars or something?”

Beca opens the trunk and sifts through the grocery bags inside. “Doesn’t look like it, babe,” she says, but sticks her hand in a bag anyways. Her tongue pokes out in concentration as she tries to get a grip on something in the bag, and Chloe bites her lip at how cute the expression makes her girlfriend look. Then, a look of victory crosses Beca’s face. “Aha! I knew these were in there!” Beca pulls her hand out to produce a box of frosted sugar cookies.

She starts attempting to open them while Chloe wrinkles her nose in confusion. “I didn’t know you bought those,” she says, watching Beca fail to open the plastic packaging. “When did you add those to the cart?”

Beca doesn’t tear her eyes away from her challenge. “You were looking at that magazine cover I was on, and I snuck it on the belt,” she says, the struggle eminent in her voice.

Chloe watches her fight the box in amusement for a few more seconds before gently prying it away from Beca’s hands, opening it with ease. She hands it back to Beca with a sweet smile. Beca attempts to look unembarrassed. “Thanks,” she mutters before reaching in and taking a cookie out, shoving half of it in her mouth at once.

They munch on the box of cookies, sitting on the hood of the car. A few people come up to them to make small talk, mostly commenting on how sucky the situation is, though none of them stick around for very long. Soon the cookies are gone, leaving Chloe and Beca to sit in comfortable silence.

Beca reaches over and pulls Chloe’s left hand into her lap, playing with her fingers. Chloe smiles softly and looks over at the brunette, but Beca’s eyes are focused on their hands. Lithe fingers run along the tendons on the back of her hand, and up and down the veins lining the inside of her wrist. Beca delicately rubs her thumb over Chloe’s ring finger with a contemplative look on her face, then brings their hands up to press a kiss to her knuckles a moment later.

Chloe hums in contentment and leans against Beca’s side, watching people ahead of them walking around and conversing with one another. Beca squeezes her hand once, and Chloe’s smile grows even wider.

-8:14 PM-

“Chlo, am I crazy, or is that an ice cream truck?”

Chloe looks in the direction that Beca is pointing in to see that, yes indeed; there is an ice cream truck in the near distance. To make it even more bizarre, people seem to be buying ice cream from the truck.

Beca and Chloe look at each other. They come to a silent agreement and slide of the hood of the car. When they reach the truck, there’s only one other person in line, so they’re able to quickly purchase two cones – chocolate for Chloe, vanilla for Beca – and weave their way through the traffic back to their own car.

They lean against the passenger side door and watch the sun slowly start to sink in the sky as they eat their ice cream. Chloe steals licks from Beca’s cone every once in a while, which her girlfriend pretends to grumble about, but Chloe can tell she doesn’t actually mind.

The ice cream truck starts playing music in the distance, and Chloe smiles as Beca starts quietly harmonizing with it under her breath.

-8:24 PM-

“If I die in this traffic jam, will you tell Theo that I won’t be able to make it to our meeting on Wednesday?”

“You’re not going to die, Beca.”

“I’m starting to lose hope that we’ll ever get out of this.”

“You’re so overdramatic.”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re under dramatic.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. Give me a break, my brain’s fried from sitting here for three hours.”

“Fair enough.”

-8:47 PM-

Chloe glances up from her nearly dead phone and does a double take at what she sees. She slaps at Beca’s arm excitedly. “Bec, people are moving!”

Beca lurches up from her slumped position over the wheel. She rubs at her eyes and blinks groggily out the front windshield. “There is a God after all,” she murmurs in awe, starting up the car.

Chloe whoops loudly as they begin to drive, joining in with the cheers from the cars around them. Beca lets out a victory cry of her own that makes Chloe double over laughing in her seat. Chloe starts belting out “We Are the Champions” at the top of her lungs, and Beca doesn’t even try to protest before she starts to sing along.

When Beca steers the car onto the exit ramp to get off the highway, Chloe lets out a contemplative hum and says, “You know, that actually wasn’t too bad. I think that was a great way to spend our evening.”

“And I think that’s probably the craziest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true, dude.”

“Hmm. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I love you.”

Beca grins and reaches out to take Chloe’s hand. “Love you, too, weirdo.”

#fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe #chloe beale #beca mitchell #repression makes for fast and fluffy writing folks #just so you know

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doberbutts · 5 years ago

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Okay so this is going to get long and more than a little bit tmi but it’s a post summing up some strides I’ve made regarding my own transgender journey and I wanted a place to talk about it and maybe help some BabyTrans figure themselves out along the way so I’m putting it under the cut but it’ll go here >:V

Anyway long story short my insurance settlement from my car accident finally figured itself out and I found myself suddenly $30k richer and immediately spent about $10k of that digging myself out of a very deep debt hole I’ve been wallowing in for a while so now I have some actual financial stability plus have some money to throw at some things that would probably make my life a bit better.

And since I have the money to throw at some things, I bought myself a few new binders and also a packer. Binders because my old one was literally disintegrating- part of that is my fault, washing binders in an industrial machine on high heat plus throwing it in the dryer means your binder falls apart faster than it should. Remember I’m from the very end of Ye Olden Days of transmasc products, which means previously most binders lasted a year at most. My binder made it 2.5 years before giving up and becoming a sports bra instead. I’ve learned from my mistakes and treat my binder(s) much more gently now, plus I have more than one so I can rotate them out and not wear the same binder 8-12 hours daily for 2.5 years and kill it doing exactly the same shit.

For reference sake, I’m 5′10′’, 180lbs, 36C bust, and fit a XL from gc2b. Which is who I bought both my previous binder and my current set from. They are low cost, lightweight, well made, and LGBT-owned and operated which makes me super into buying from them instead of some of the other companies offering something similar.

Being that I am biracial and finding something my skintone is always somewhat... interesting... I followed the internet’s suggestion and went with PeeCock for the packer. I’d bought a zip binder from them a few years ago and actually found that to be the most comfortable binder I’ve ever used in the history of ever, but I will say the durability of zip binders is low compared to pull-over binders in my experience, as the zipper exploded one day when I bent down to pick up a small dropped item. I’d had the binder and was rotating its use with my pullover gc2b for about 6 months when this happened, and was in public when I went from flat chested to big uncontained tiddies in the span of seconds. Not great. I’ve been told that probably means it was a little too small for me, but PeeCock is a company based in Singapore, and their sizes like most East Asian clothing do run quite a bit small (I was a XXL in PeeCock sizes when I wore a size L gc2b binder) so there’s not really a lot of wiggle room for me to go up in size. Additionally their sizing taps out at XXXL so anyone who’s bigger than me in the chest/torso is a bit out of luck for their binders. A shame, because that zip binder was so comfortable I fell asleep in it forgetting I even had it on more than once.

Anyway. Since I did like that binder even though we had the wardrobe mishap, and the internet had pretty good reviews on the PeeCock packers because they are multifunctional and actually make correct skin tones for black dudes, I got one. Since money wasn’t an issue I did get the most recent model which was not cheap (~$300) and so far I like it a lot. I got so used to wearing it that when I take it off to clean it, it actually really bothers me. The weight of it is... comforting, in a way.

HOWEVER I did see a bunch of reviews about how I would be super likely to pee on myself the first time using it and then used it and went “wow I don’t have any idea what you guys are talking about this is easy” aaaaand... then peed on myself by accident. Gotta control your stream or things are going to overflow and you’re going to be really sad. And wet. And stinky. Thankfully I had the forethought to practice at home before actually doing this at work/public restrooms but be warned. Being that this is my first one I can’t say if this is common with all packers however I told several of my transmasc friends that do pack and use STP about this experience and they all assured me they did the exact same thing on and off for the first couple weeks and most of them do not have the same brand. We’ve yet to have a repeat at least?

Plus there’s a little attachment rod so I can use it for sexy times with the boyf and also feel what I’m doing to him so there’s that too. 10/10 A+ experience would recommend. The packaging warns you to be careful how you pack because of the way the silicone works, and your partner cannot be on top or ride you, so keep that in mind if you’re considering it. Cleaning is pretty straightforward however and packing feels correct and natural as long as you follow a few rules:

I’ve discovered that whatever size you consider a perfect fit? Unless you like really relaxed fit for your pants, you’ll need to go a size up. I wear tighter clothing and usually skinny jeans at that, and my exact perfect size has been 34/32 for some time now. When packing I need to go up to 36/32 because otherwise wow that crotch is way too tight. I can’t sit down in one of my pairs of jeans and I’m legit sad about it. I also can’t have anything in the pockets of a different pair of jeans or else I have the same tight crotch problem. I went up a size in underwear and that was more comfortable, so I ordered new pants from online and I’ll see if that helps as much as I’m expecting it too.

Speaking of underwear, ymmv, but I genuinely did not expect this. Jockstraps? Super comfy, super durable, and super convenient. Additionally unlike boxers or even briefs, I don’t need a special packing-specific design to be comfortable in one. I never wore one before and honestly this doesn’t even feel like wearing underwear. They’re really just a banana hammock anyway so that’s probably a large part of it, but honestly I would definitely recommend trying them if you haven’t yet. I do have a few pairs of packing briefs and boxers, as well as normal briefs and boxers, and I’ve been alternating between the various types of undies to see which ones I prefer, but I already know my decision so I bought several because I can. One word of advice, though... if your pants ride down understand that your entire butt will be out. I don’t wear low rise pants because they draw too much attention to my waistline and make me super dysphoric, but those that do, watch out.

Jockmail is highly rated and multiple transmasc websites recommend them for packing and I can absolutely see why. Usually the waistband of my underwear irritates my skin and so I was dubious because Jockmail stuff- being that it’s for athletic wear- has a minimum waistband of about 2in... but it’s actually more comfortable and less irritating, rather than the other way around. They also have briefs, boxers (more like short shorts), and boxer briefs, which I also have of the same brand, but... not as comfy. Once again Jockmail is a Hong Kong company so like all East Asian clothes, they run small. I’m a M in most men’s clothing sizes... I am XXL in Jockmail. I also had purchased a brief harness from PeeCock (goes by inches for waist) as well. (Also where I discovered you need to go a size up- I bought a 34in waist brief from PeeCock and it’s a tad tight. I bought a 36in waist brief from Jockmail and it’s perfect. I have been buying 34in waist things for the past few years now- I didn’t suddenly gain 2 inches at the waist, I did suddenly gain a need for a deeper crotch)

If you look down your body from above it will be super obvious that there is a dick there and you will go “oh god I look like I have an erection”. I have been reliably informed that it is actually not true and if you pack correctly a bulge will be there but not so obvious that it looks like you have a raging hardon the whole time. Better to look in the mirror, rather than down your tummy.

(Additionally I voiced my doubts to my boyf who immediately reminded me that most people don’t spend their time staring at someone’s crotch and as long as I wasn’t constantly messing with mine, no one was likely to notice even if I did have an obnoxiously obvious bulge. He then gave me some tips on how to let it hang if I wanted a “natural” look, and when we walked around while I had it on he made sure to check in on my mental health. He’s cute y’all.)

Some (cis) guys will have a specific leg they like to let things hang against. Some switch it up. Some are okay with it hanging straight down provided there’s not a lot of squish happening. Find what feel comfortable and needs the least amount of adjustment for you, and then stick with that. For me, I’ve found straight down or off to the left feels better- a friend of mine prefers off to the right, another straight down only, etc. Also can depend on the size- some (cis) guys I know are a bit smaller down below and are more comfortable with straight down than those with larger weiners.

If you pack you probably need to shave. I was very uncomfortable until I shaved. Now I feel much better packing. So trim that jungle or else you might feel a pinch every few minutes when a hair gets pulled.

And there you have me this morning before I got dressed. As you can see, both fit very nicely. I’m not particularly happy with my stomach or feminine hip set but eh, I cover those with layers and no one bats an eye.

At this point it’s figuring out the whole hormones thing, yelling at my insurance to cover certain surgeries, and... fixing some minor details with my wardrobe... and I’m feeling way more confident than I was a few years ago.

Anyway if anyone has questions feel free to hit me up

#text post #shut up jazi

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writerseven · 4 years ago

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The next installment of props was giving me trouble, so I ended up doing some warm up writing in the form of flipping a scene from runaway to Dick's perspective.

I'm not posting this officially since it's super unpolished, probably redundant, and potentially even contradicting future fics in the series since I just wrote it as an exercise, but I figured I'd drop it here because this sort of thing is what I made this tumblr for in the first place. Enjoy this unedited minifc!

The kiss catches him completely off guard. Dick's brain gets caught in a loop of What? No, wait, why? What? Wrong-wrong-wrong, for a beat too long, before he realizes he has hand and should be using them. Frantic action takes over from shocked stillness, and he pushes Tim away a little rougher than intended.

Dick opens his mouth to—he doesn't know. Apologize? Ask what the fuck that was? Just gape aimlessly? It doesn't matter; Tim speaks before he can:

“Sorry! Oh god. I'm sorry.”

Tim looks genuinely horrified at his own actions, hand hovering over his mouth unconsciously, and it's the push Dick needs to get ahold of himself. He needs to—he needs to cut this right off at the root. Whatever wrong impression he's given, whatever wires has been crosses, he needs to fix that shit right now.

“Tim...” he says, trying to figure out where to start.

“Sorry,” Tim says, breathing hard.

Dick feels his brow pinching, heartbeat much faster than reasonable for a completely danger-free scenario. “I'm...Shit. I'm—way older than you, and you're a kid.” Oh, great, just really patronize Tim away while he's at it. “Which I know no teenager wants to hear, but I...”

Tim shakes his head, slinking further back against the couch. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...”

Dick shakes his head slightly, trying to get this all out before it blows up. “I know you have a family and parents of your own, but when I call you my little brother, I really—I really do mean it.”

“I know that,” Tim says, looking down. “I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't even really—I don't even...I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that.”

The thing is, he seems completely honest about it. Completely distraught. Dick has...well, he's done stupid self-destructive stuff in all the wrong moments and not known why, but that was always predicated by something. Something he was dealing with really poorly.

A hands grips his heart before he breathes deep and forces it to release. There are still a million explanations; he doesn't know for sure that it's bad. It really could just be a kid with an inappropriate crush. Hell, Dick himself had a little hero-worship thing going on for about half the Justice League back when he was a tiny pre-teen in pixie boots.

Tim is pulling away, off the couch. “I'm sorry,” he says, stronger. “I should—I can go. I'm gonna go.”

Dick leans out to catch him on instinct, grabbing his hand. “Hey, wait, don't—”

Tim stops, but won't meet his eye. Dick scans over him carefully, lingering on those stark neck bruises for a moment, and tries to remind himself not to get worried when there might be nothing to worry about.

“What happened?” Dick asks, keeping his voice level. Tim glances up and away again. “I mean—” He swallows, trying to sort out a phrasing that implies the least. “Can you at least tell me what brought this on?”

“I don't know,” Tim mutters, rocking on his heels. It's such a guilty child's motion that Dick can't help but squeeze his hand. “I guess I just...thought you'd be nice about it.”

No, no, nonono.

“Be nice about what?” Dick asks softly, terrified he knows.

Tim glances up, exactly as ashamed and scared and desperate as Dick hoped he wouldn't be. Dick abruptly realizes he's still clutching onto Tim's hand, giving the kid no choice in the matter, and drops it, clearing his throat.

Okay. He's—If this is what he thinks it is, he knows how to do this. (And, god, he heard a million awful comments back when he was running Gotham's seedy streets, even as a kid, but he never thought anything would happen to Tim.) If this is that, Dick knows how to deal with victims, how to be calm but soft, ask without judgment. And if it's not, none of that can hurt. His back straightens on instinct.

“Can I hug you, or do you want space?” Dick asks.

Tim is in his arms almost before he's finished the question. Dick wraps him up immediately, tugging him closer onto the couch, practically in his lap. Tim would probably say he's too old for it, but Dick can't help but perpetually think of his little brother as younger than Dick ever was, even knowing that's far from the truth.

“I really am sorry,” Tim mumbles into his shoulder. “I didn't...mean it like that.”

“I know,” Dick says. He's wished so strongly he didn't, but it's worth it if he can use it to help Tim. They can do this. He's not going to let his brother deal alone. “I'm...I understand.” The words get caught in his throat, refusing to dislodge. Dick can't manage to say any of it more explicitly than, “I think I really, really do.”

He closes his eyes over Tim's hair, gentling rubbing his back. For a few minutes it's just that, and Dick lets himself get away with the delay on the thought that Tim needs it and they both deserve to calm down.

He still doesn't actually know, though. Dick is pretty sure he has the vague shape of it. The general category of what happened—or almost happened, if he's lucky, maybe just a scare—the ensuing feelings he knows far too well, the urge to reclaim it. But nothing has been said. He has to be sure he's not just projecting.

“I,” Dick starts, so, so slow and cautious, “I do think I still need you to tell me what happened, though. When you're ready. We can just sit here for now.”

“No, it's okay,” Tim says. His voice is a little hoarse, but when he draws back there are no tears in sight. Dick's heart aches for this too-strong kid. “It's...nothing. I'm handling it. I'm sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Tim...” Dick frowns.

Tim pulls away, returning to his seat on the couch. It's closer this time, though, one of Dick's arms lingering over his shoulder without a reach. His throat works hard a few times, drawing attention to those bruises. They're definitely finger-shaped. Dick has seen too many like that not to know.

He lifts a hand to examine them better, not thinking, and Tim—flinches. Hard, like Dick punched instead of barely brushed him. Dick's heart leaps in response.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“S'okay,” Tim says, though he's a little breathless himself.. “The—the bruise, y'know.”

Dick clenches his jaw at the blatant lie. “It wasn't the bruise, Tim.”

Tim shrinks in on himself, even his voice lowering. “It's just. You know...Batman stuff.” His eyes flick up, bright and desperate on Dick's. “I'm sure you dealt with the same kind of stuff when you were Robin.”

He doesn't react. He's so goddamn careful not to react because now is not the situation to be losing it, and not the person to be losing it in front of, and not the time to be losing it when, again, he doesn't actually know anything. Not for sure. Not really.

But Dick's heart slams against his rib cage and his brain lights up every siren.

That doesn't mean what he thinks it means. That does not mean what he thinks it means. It doesn't even—there's not even anything like this that Dick “dealt with” when he was Robin. He doesn't even know why his brain is going there. Sure, Bruce can be distant or cold or manipulative or, much as he hates to admit, on occasion selfish to the point of cruelty, but Dick doesn't have any actual reason to believe...

(Only...) Robin stuff. It's just Robin stuff, those million awful comments Dick heard and Tim must have too. But. Tim did say it was Batman stuff.

Dick takes one more very careful, very steady breath, before he allows himself to speak. He fights to make his voice perfectly even. “Tim, did Bruce...Has Bruce ever...?”

“No, it's not—He's—Bruce is fine,” Tim interrupts quickly.

Dick is hit by relief that he grabs onto with both hands, and then guilt that he refuses to examine.

“He's—” Tim continues. “He just wants to reconnect with Jason, so he's...”

Conflicting emotions come to a screeching halt at that. Okay. Turns out Dick really doesn't know apparently. “Jason?”

He heart does an entirely unrelated funny little twist over saying Jason's name. It's been so long, and thing changed completely while Dick wasn't even there. But somehow his first brother is back, even if Dick is yet to see it himself, and apparently...involved in this?

It's not a hard jump from there. The only time Dick knows of when Jason and Tim have ever interacted led to Tim's near-death at Titan's Tower.

“So Jason...” He puts a hand over his own throat in demonstration instead of indicating Tim's and risking another flinch.

“I mean, I—Both of them, technically...”

Dick's hand stills. There's a horrible weight in his gut, but only one other person has been mentioned this conversation and it's impossible to ignore. He can't muster up the energy for proper emotion when he asks, “Jason and Bruce both...hurt you?”

It takes a long moment, before Tim nods.

No. Dick scrubs over his face like he's chasing phantom tears. It's like he's simultaneously too emotional and too numb to actual conjure any. The block in his throat doesn't feel like crying; it just aches.

“But Bruce isn't usually...” Tim is saying, Dick unable to answer.

He twists away, towards the couch, elbows digging into the backrest and face shoving into his palms. What he really wants to do it hit something heavy and solid and painful, but this is best he can get without hurting himself in front of Tim. No.

That's it. Just no. No, not this. No, it's a mistake. No, he's wrong. No, no, no, Dick has misunderstood and made leaps where he shouldn't and put the pieces together in the wrong puzzle.

But Tim's neck is bruised by hands, and he kissed Dick because he thought Dick was safe and that's—

Dick is still a pretty good detective, even when he doesn't want to be.

It's the hardest word in the universe to force out, barely able to peak through his hands towards Tim. “Sexually?”

Tim nods.

Dick selfishly, horribly, stays quiet as Tim tries to course correct and near-pleads with him for validation. He can't. If he opens his mouth he might scream.

#props series #it also cuts off abruptly because that's where i decided i had gotten into the groove enough and could move on to the actual fic #wrote this edited nothing bon apetit #7fic

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wickednerdery · 4 years ago

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The Three Musketeers [FanFic]

Title: The Three Musketeers Author: @wickednerdery Pairing: Reid/Ethan/Lil Foyet(friendship), Barbossa, Pintel & Ragetti Rating: Teen/Mature Summary: When best friends Spencer Reid, Ethan Bellamy, and Lil Foyet work together to get one over on a patron at a Tortuga tavern they all get more than they bargained for. Notes: Right, so this piece is almost 10 years old, lol! But some y’all wanted to read my Criminal Minds/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover stuff so here’s the first piece; it’s something of a prologue to a larger story I was working on and takes place well before the first movie. (Notes of characters at the end.) There’s some violence and adult themes involving children, also it’s WAY longer than most pieces I write nowadays lol!

“It be too late to alter course now, mateys!” ~ Barbossa, PoTC:Curse of the Black Pearl

Little Spencer Reid was a scrawny boy of eight with greasy hair that fell into his eyes as he spun his head this way and that making sure no one was watching too closely. This was his job in the crew, given to him by Ethan who promised it was the least dangerous one there was. So far that had held true. This stuff always made the boy nervous nevertheless, but they were starving and without money to pay so what choice did they have? That and the other two stressed that it wasn’t exactly stealing, per say, if the person was too drunk or otherwise busy to take care in keeping an eye on their goods. Ethan snapped up some bread and rum from the sailors in the tavern who were too busy with their company for the night before he saw the jackpot. Set beside the dark boots of an imposing man was a basket containing apples. Good apples, ones ripe and ready for eating. The temptation was too much, but Ethan wasn’t about to just grab and dash…he was smart, he always examined, staked out, a target first. This target, the man with the bushel of fresh apples, was imposing even while sitting. A large hat kept much of his face in the shadows, but Ethan could see a bushy beard and long, dark, auburn hair held back loosely with a strip of leather. He was significantly older and it looked like the years at sea had already begun to ravage the man leaving scars and sunspots about the face and body. Still, he was a finely dressed man and wealthy enough to keep the monkey on his shoulder dressed better than most those Ethan saw on the island itself. The teen boy slipped past the man onto where his other crewmember, Lil, leaned by a post keeping watch as well. She turned her face to him and arches a brow. “Well?” “I need ya,” Ethan said simply before drawing the young girl’s gaze to the man with the apples. “On it faster than he’ll be on me,” she teased a touch before giving Ethan a kiss to the cheek and heading over to the man and his monkey. Like the boys Lil had grown on the island of Tortuga the child of a pirate and a woman…in her case a whore already dead at the hands of a jealous lover. Whether from guilt or just plain pity the madam allowed the small girl to live in the brothel even after her mother’s murder. So Lil was raised in brothels and even at ten capable of working seduction skills enough to catch the eyes of drunken sailors and distract them for Ethan to steal. That was how it all worked. Little Spencer kept a sharp eye, she a tempting manner, and Ethan a fast hand. They’d done this all long enough to avoid capture when working together and, for Ethan and Lil, to have no real fear in it. Only Spencer held the fear, just as only he held the knowledge of the immorality of the behavior. Ethan watched as Lil sauntered over to the man, shifted herself into his eye-line, and held his gaze with stormy eyes and teasingly quirked lips. There was always something strange about Lil; how she carried herself, demanded and got attention from all those around her. She was a force and even at twelve Ethan knew she’d only become more so as she developed into a woman. It was as frightening as it was exhilarating. The young man’s gaze then trailed to his frail runt of a friend still loyally keeping lookout for all of them. Spencer was the virtual opposite. Small, meek, and ever unsure in his steps the eight-year-old was more of a comfort to Ethan than anything exciting. Spencer kept him and Lil anchored to their abilities, stabilized in their emotions, and reigned in from their impulses. Altogether Ethan imagined they were a complete person – heart, mind, and guts – and without the other two he wasn’t sure any would truly survive. Ethan turned back to the target with his monkey and waited until he got the signal from Lil (a thrumming of fingers on the wooden table) before he tucked his frame in the shadows of swinging lanterns and jostling bodies to snap up the booty. He stuffed a small bag kept on his hip with apples before grabbing one more in hand. He moved out in the next rowdy crowd that passed and headed towards Spencer with a grin, showing off the apple in his hand. The monkey’s shriek came first, then a string of curses from its owner and a shot from a gun. “RUN!!” Lil screamed to her boys as she grabbed a knife up off the table and slashed at the target. The man cursed, struck out, and knocked the girl to the floor. “Ethan?” young Spencer’s eyes became saucers as his older friend started a full dash to him. “Run!” Ethan grabbed Spencer’s arm and the two boys began to move as fast as their legs could carry them out into the crowd that was the streets of Tortuga. Spencer could barely keep up, tripping over his own legs and those of others. “Ethan, what…” he couldn’t get the words out as his friend began to virtually drag him. “Ethan…Lil…” What had become of their third party? Had the man gotten her? Was she okay? Ethan took a sharp turn, grabbing hold of a fruit cart and pulling it down as he did. The curses from the vendor followed them, but what was more important was that sounds of a scuffle did as well. The man with the monkey was now busy arguing with the vendor. At the second shot heard young Reid let out a squeak of nerves. He wanted to eat, yes, but not get shot in the process. The fact that Ethan only seemed to enjoy this, the danger of the chase, just made him more nervous. “Ethan…Ethan, maybe we should, uh, just give the apples back and…beg pardon?” The older boy pulled the younger into an alleyway and dropped his voice low. “Men who shoot first and ask later don’t pardon, Spencer.” “Wha-what about Lil, Ethan?” The older boy almost smiled. “Lil can care for herself, Spencer, you know that.” “But –“ “I think he’s a pirate,” Ethan’s adrenaline had already forced a switch of topics. “A proper one?” As opposed to those lowlifes who boasted without ever making good that littered Tortuga in greater numbers than the whores. Ethan nodded. “The only way we get out of this is to run, hide, or try and parley.” “But…we’re not pirates.” “Not yet,” the older boy smirked some. Both boys had parentage in piracy, but only the elder wanted to carry on the legacy. Spencer Reid saw his father’s piracy as a form of abandonment; William Reid preferred theft on the high seas to his family and the youth had no interest in becoming like him. Spencer aimed to use his intelligence for good, to help others, and never to bring misfortune. The truth was he wasn’t comfortable stealing, or even keeping watch over Ethan and Lil when they did, but there weren’t many options being the only son of the Mad Woman of Tortuga. Ethan felt differently; the bastard son of pirate legend “Black Sam” Bellamy he wanted nothing more than to share in the life. He adored the stories he heard from the sailors, Navy and pirate alike, and hoped someday there’d be stories told about him. Being a pirate sounded thrilling and he could never understand how his friend saw it differently. While he had a set of morals, it was already skewed towards piracy. Young Bellamy did what he had to in order to survive, to thrive, and had ease about him when it came to the underhanded and devious. Spencer sighed some. “Can’t we just hide then? I can’t keep running like this.” He hadn’t the physicality of Ethan. “Fine, you hide,” Ethan pulled out a few of the apples and stuffed them into his friend’s pockets. “Keep these with you.” “Where are you going?” “We should spilt up anyway,” Ethan replied simply. The truth was Ethan sort of still wanted to continue the chase though. Hiding wasn’t his style except as a last resort. Spencer frowned, “Oh. Okay.” “Just…stay in the shadows and tuck yourself behind the pigs outside The Faithful Bride, okay?” It was where they usually met up at the end of the night if they didn’t spend all the hours of the day and evening together. “Aye.” Ethan smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you. You and Lil.” Spencer just nodded then watched as his friend dashed off out the other end of the alley. The small boy stayed hidden where he was for sometime before he began to take back routes to the pigsty, searching for their Lil as he did. *** Ethan took a few more sharp turns and random routes before he realized there was no one chasing him anymore. The young man let out a sigh that bordered on disappointment as he looked at the apple that, miraculously, had remained in his hand. He took a bite, savoring the juice that exploded into his mouth with the piercing of its skin before swallowing it down. The chase was over, time to enjoy the spoils. Ethan set his teeth into the apple again as he began to head out towards the water’s edge. He was half through the last alley and his apple when a dark figure appeared, blocking his way. Perched on the figure was the outline of a monkey that screeched at him angrily. Ethan froze a moment before he stepped back and turned on his heel to make another run for it. No dice this time as two others blocked his way. A tall, thin, fellow partnered with a stout one who held his pistol out and at the ready to fire. “It’d be unwise to make yer run, boy,” the monkey-man remarked just on the edge of amused. Ethan spun back. “Parley!” “Parley?” one of the two groaned behind him. The man before Ethan just laughed some as he began an unhurried approach to the teen. “Ye got no right to parley lest ye be a pirate, boy.” “Well, I am,” Ethan insisted stubbornly to the man he now realized was the leader of the crew. The moonlight caught blackened blood on the man’s face from Lil’s knife and Ethan stepped back with shaken nerves. “By birth, anyhow.” “’Ow’s that?” the skinny one spoke up almost curiously. Ethan’s back hit the stones of a building as the three pirates closed in. “My father is Black Sam Bellamy, surely you’ve heard of him.” The three men and one monkey looked at one another seeming to debate the lad’s truthfulness and their next step before the leader gave a cackle. “Right then boy, I’ll give ya the privilege of parley. Now what’s it ye need to say?” “I’d like to say it to the captain.” “I be him,” the man replied simply as his monkey grinned. “Captain Barbossa of the Cobra. Now…” Barbossa closed in on the thieving boy, made the oozing blood on his face something Ethan’s eyes couldn’t avoid as he brought a pistol up under the boy’s chin. “Speak!” Ethan shook under the hot, rageful, breath of the pirate captain, but spoke nevertheless. “I wanna join your crew.” It was the one thing he could think of that might prevent his death and finally get him what he always wanted…a chance to be a real pirate. The two men to his right seemed stunned, the monkey ticked its head in utter confusion, and Barbossa simply leaned back a touch to appraise the bold youth. “How old are ye, lad?” “Thirteen, sir. Captain. And I’m still growing.” In truth, from malnutrition and general poor living conditions, the twelve-year-old Ethan hadn’t even truly started growing. “I know plenty about ships and I learn fast. I’d make a good member of your crew. A loyal one too.” Barbossa considered the offer in silence as he continued his appraisal. True, the lad was slight in build, but being on the cusp of puberty and given enough food he had plenty of room to grow. Ethan’s fast hands and quick thinking could certainly be of benefit as well. “Ye ever worked a sword or pistol?” “No, Captain,” Ethan confessed with a touch of shame. “But I’ve fought by hand, with small blades, and won more than once. More than I’ve lost.” The monkey gave Ethan a smile that announced Barbossa’s decision before the man did. “Ye owe me payment for my apples and for the handy work of that lil’ lass o’ yers. You’ll work it off on my ship.” “Yes sir.” Then Ethan looked to the other two pirates before his eyes went to the bloody gash of the captain’s. “The…the girl…” “Yers, yes?” Barbossa smirked some. The boy avoided the question, worried what an answer could bring to Lil. “She alive?” The monkey heaved out the squeals of a laugh with the men. “She were when I left her,” Barbossa grinned out. The man hadn’t the time to trouble with the girl much beyond the slap. “Now, ye pay off yer debts…” Barbossa gave a wicked smile, “and we’ll see if ye ‘ave what it takes to be a true pirate after that.” “Aye Captain,” Ethan smiled back, not seeing the evil glint of Barbossa’s eyes through his own excitement. “I’ll do ye proud, I swear it.” *** Lil rolled herself under a table after the hit, playing possum until the coast was clear. The bar now emptied of her troubles the girl picked herself up off the floor and began to examine her state. Her straw-colored hair was more wild than usual, her hands red with pirate’s blood, and her cheek still stinging but otherwise she was fine. She’d live to fight another day without troubles or worry. After wiping her hands on the cloth bits that were her dress the girl grabbed an unattended bottle of run from a table and a lost apple off the floor before heading out of the tavern as she drank and ate. Whatever the boys might think, this was a victorious night in Lil’s book. The girl wandered for a bit, adjusting her posture to appear her most non-threatening and uninteresting in hunched shoulders and hung head. She swung the bottle back enough times that her legs grew unsteady as she approached their usual meeting spot, The Faithful Bride. There were no signs of her boys so she began to call out to them. “Spencer! Ethan!” A mop of scraggly hair poked up from behind a few of the pigs where they dozed in slop and their own filth. “Lil?” Reid’s voice mixed equal parts relief and concern. “Aye. Where’s Ethan?” The younger shrugged as he worked his way out to street where Lil remained, bottle and apple in hand. “He said he’d meet us here when he could. Are you okay?” As he got closer, out in the lights trickling from the bars and brothels around them, he could see the angry red handprint across Lil’s face. “I’m fine.” Lil had gotten far worse over the years and the pain still there was dulled by liquor now. “You get anything to eat?” “Oh, yeah,” Reid’s lips curled up a touch as if he remembered his pockets had been stuffed with his share of the apples. He pulled one out and started to eat. “What should we do now, Lil?” Lil finished her apple and tossed the core to the pigs before offering her friend some of the rum. The boy declined with a shake of his head to which the elder girl shrugged, drank some herself, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before finally answering. “I say we wait it out till dawn, then start searching.” “Okay.” Because Lil refused to sleep in the muddy shit of the pigs the two children tucked themselves in the doorway of a closed shop nearby. Lil laid herself across its length and had Spencer rest his head in her lap for comfort as he curled up into himself. Despite those instincts that told Lil her little friend was too weak to survive, that being rid of him would be the wiser thing for her to do, she kept him as close as she did Ethan. Something about the weedy boy was precious to her, something that went beyond his advanced intellect. It was his innocence, that purity of the soul he clung to even as those closest to him – Lil and Ethan – willingly discarded or had it torn from them bit by bit each day. She did not understand how or why Spencer held to it, but the fact he did fascinated her. The young girl began to run her fingers through Spencer’s hair as she hummed, then sang. “We extort and pilfer, we filch and we sack, drink me ‘earties, yo ho…” *** The morning brought nothing but sun and angry hollers from the shopkeeper for the little urchins to be gone from the front of his store. Too tired to do anything more Lil and Spencer left without argument and took to roaming the streets in search for any signs of the eldest of their crew. They came across none. Ethan had simply vanished in the night. When they reached the whorehouse where Lil stayed the girl offered Spencer a share in her tiny attic of a room, but the boy declined. He wanted to be home, to see if his mother was all right and if perhaps Ethan had somehow ended up there or at least left word somehow. “Lemme know if he did?” the girl requested as the sun lit up the colors of bruising on her cheek as it rose higher in the Caribbean sky. “Of course.” Lil smiled bright and bubbly a moment, then nodded a touch before heading inside. No one was waiting up for her, no one worried or cared. The morning crowd of exiting men simply walked around her as she made her way up to her straw heap of a bed to sleep. By the time Spencer reached home his mother was to ill to even speak with so the small boy took to wandering out in back of his shack of a house. There were no signs Ethan had stopped by in the middle of the night; the only sign of his best friend’s existence at all was Iggy, their shared pet iguana, relaxing in the shade of the foliage grown wild on the property. “Hey Iggy,” the eight-year-old noted with a frown as he settled onto the ground. The iguana seemed to sense one of its owners, or smelled the fruit, as he crawled out into the sun over to Spencer. “You seen Ethan?” The iguana made a gutteral noise in reply. “Thought not,” Spencer replied back before pulling out one of the apples and biting off a hunk. He took half into mouth and pulled the other half out to hold out to Iggy. The iguana snapped his jaw, taking the apple from the boy’s fingers. “Guess it’s just you and me now.” The iguana tilted his head some as he chewed. Reid sighed some already missing his friend deeply. Spencer only had two, Lil and Ethan, and now one was missing. He worried too…had Ethan been found? Had he been jailed or, worse yet, murdered over their group-effort theft? Lil didn’t seem concerned, but then she very rarely was. In all his years of knowing the girl Spencer couldn’t recall a single time she’d cried or even shown fear. Not when that drunken lout had tried to take her behind one of the taverns, not when she’d been whipped for stealing, and not last night when the monkey-man caught them. Spencer bit his lip, looked down some, and let his wavy locks fall into his face as he debated crying over the seeming loss of his friend, his best friend. He shook with the thoughts of it. Then he felt the rest of the apple being yanked from his possession. “Hey!” the boy snapped to attention as Iggy scurried away with the last of the trio’s prize. The last thing Ethan had given him, the last memory of his friend before the older boy vanished in the Tortuga night. Spencer wanted, needed, that last bit of apple back. “Stupid iguana! Stupid…blimey…bloody…” the boy cursed aloud as he made chase, tripping over rocks, roots, and his own feet in attempts to catch the animal. He skittered to a stop when the lizard dived into a hole in the dirt that the boy couldn’t follow him into. “You’re just like Ethan, ya thieving bastard! Stupid Ethan!” Exhausted and enraged the boy lay by the hole and began to cry. “Stupid Ethan,” he muttered, face and fists in the dirt, until he drifted off to sleep with the tropical sun beating down him. "Friends hold both the power to excel your life, or destroy it." ~ Adam Murphy

I took some of the background given to Barbossa in the books based on PoTC to use to my own advantage. Ethan is from Criminals Minds Season 2, Episode 18, “Jones” - I grew insanely attached to him, he ended up in many pieces lol - and Lil Foyet is an OC daughter of serial killer George “The Reaper” Foyet from Season 4-6 (mostly?) who’s also in my Criminal Minds Noir AU “Living for the Night” on my AO3.

Those Who May Be Interested: @lady-crowned-with-stars @chibiyanai @ultrarebelheart @holykryptonitekitten @darcee74 @lareinedususpense @poetic-fiasco @star-spangled-pan-with-a-plan @dreatine

#pirates of the caribbean #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #fanfiction #criminal minds ethan #dr spencer reid x ethan #OC: Lil Foyet #hector barbossa #pintel & ragetti #barbossa #jack the monkey #pirates #crossover #au

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