#we even had some dumped at our door sometimes

[froody]

there are cats in pretty much all of my childhood photos and what is crazy is that I can remember the names of every cat I had growing up but I can’t remember the names of most of my childhood friends LMFAO

[elisamaza]

Pizza delivery drivers of Reddit, what are some of the craziest reasons people have ended up on the “no delivery list”?

gameryamen

I worked for a pizza place that was near a very large software company. Deliveries to the neighborhoods or offices where all the tech workers lived was usually pretty awesome because they'd tip rather well. But there was one apartment that started to become a concern for us drivers. The man ordering was always polite, always paid, always tipped $4, and he would have been a perfect customer. He'd order breadsticks and a salad twice a week, and sometimes he'd include a bottle of root beer. Except when he opened his door, you could see an alarming amount of our breadsticks boxes stacked everywhere inside. Not like a few on the counter and a couple by the trash, stacks and stacks of them. Even worse, it was only our boxes in there. He wasn't just ordering from us often, we were the only place he was getting food outside of work. Now, I've worked in some of those tech offices myself, I know that there's enough decent food options just hanging out in the break rooms that this guy was probably not malnourished, but the way his living space was a shrine of greasy cardboard was a clear sign that this guy didn't have a healthy relationship with our food. Our manager was a really cool dude though, and he heard the drivers joking about the boxes and asked a couple of us "Is this like a messy guy or a guy who needs help?" We agreed it was probably the latter. So on his day off, the manager went to the guys apartment with an envelope that had gift cards for several other restaurants that delivered in that area and chatted with him. Manager found out that the guy was an immigrant on a Visa who was struggling to find American food he liked, and too socially awkward to ask anyone. So he talked with him through a few menus and helped him with some recommendations. Then he helped the guy load all the old boxes into his truck to take to the dump, in exchange for a promise not to order from us more than once a week. For a little while, the manager had a note on the calendar showing the last time the guy had ordered, and a couple times he had to hold his ground and refuse the guy's order. But after that chat, I never saw the stacks of boxes again, and the guy would boast about the different meals he'd had.

what the fuck dude, this is so sweet.

[itsa-me-lily]

Aight fine, I didn't get you with that one? Then how about Simon being forced on leave due to having too much saved up or injury, so now he's just always sat at home, looking like the world's most unamused housecat.

Reader leaving for work and coming back and this man is sat in the same exact spot, with the same furrowed brows and crossed arms, definitely pouting because he's being forced to not go out and kill bad guys.

More Simon & Thimble playlist

The MPS AU masterlist

I just wanted you to know I got your other ask but I am hoarding it because, to quote River Song, spoilers.

This isn't replacing the idea of us trying to teach him one of our hobbies, but I do enjoy the idea of us having a shared hobby that we parallel play with.

Anyway whatever shall we do with our big ol' grumpy grumpy man?

You didn't know how many days constituted a problem, but you were pretty sure you were coming up on a problem. Simon was out on medical leave for two weeks. Why? He wouldn't tell you, simply said it was all bullshit and he was fine. You're pretty sure Johnny had tried to tell you, but going by the look of not-terror on his face, Simon had been behind you, probably making some non verbal threat like to eat his eyeballs or something if he said anything. John, at least, had been able to tell you that it wasn't anything life threatening. That Simon just needed a little R&R before coming back.

You were day three into a fourteen day stint of having your roommate husband...broski(?) back and well to say it was going poorly was probably an understatement. For the past two days you'd leave your home with Simon stationed on the couch, staring down the wall like it owed him money. Then you'd come home and he would still be sitting on the couch, still staring at the wall like it hadn't paid up. The only reason you even knew he hadn't gone into some catatonic state was because when you got home he'd at least respond to you in grunts and get up from the couch if you offered to share a meal with him. Outside of that you weren't entirely sure he moved. Which was concerning.

So now you were standing outside of your front door, almost positive you knew exactly where Simon was going to be. With a sigh you pushed open the door, took a step inside and....yup that man was still on the couch, looking like the wall still hadn't paid him.

"Simon?"

"Hn."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Hn."

"Have you...moved from the couch? Like at all?"

"Hn."

Well still not catatonic. Though honestly you were pretty he was going to get there sooner or later. With a sigh you decided that fuck it, you were going to try one thing and if it didn't work well he could rot on the couch then, at least you tried to help. So without a word you turned and walked back out into the wilderness for a solution.

--

Med leave was bullshit. The incident that lead him to med leave was bullshit. The fact that Soap nearly told you about the incident was bullshit. So he was going to spend the two weeks of forced med leave showing that he was completely fine by sitting on his couch, protecting his god damn house. A man had to keep his fucking dignity sometimes damnit.

No he was not being dramatic, and no he was not pouting. He would even respond to you when you asked him questions. He was fine. He didn't know why you had decided to just leave and come back an hour later, dumping multiple boxes onto the couch beside him. A quick look answered that they were some kind of build kit?

"The 'ell are those?"

"Something for you to do."

Simon didn't need something to do. He already had something to do, showing that he didn't need to be on med leave.

"Don't need 'em. You're just wasting your money."

"A) Your money, and b) I'll do them if you wont. So how about you stop bitching and fucking try one okay?"

Wait-what did you mean, his money? When the hell did you get your hands on his wallet? Before Simon could decide if he was offended or impressed by your acts of theft and audacity, you seemed to decide to just plop yourself onto the floor by the couch with what appeared to be your own stash of kits.

You didn't seemed bothered by his demanding stare for answers, instead already getting into the contents of what seemed to be pieces of wooden flowers. After seven and a half minutes of silence, he counted, you looked up to see if he had started anything.

"You know you don't have to be so embarrassed to admit you can't do them."

Who the fuck said anything about him being embarrassed? Or that he couldn't put a fucking wooden toy together. Given the skeptical look on your face you were fucking saying. Simon Riley could put together a fucking toy. He still had his dignity damnit.

With a huff he inspected the kits you had gotten. If he wasn't so affronted he may have been able to appreciate that you had gotten what seemed like a good variety of things, from a puzzle box to a few cars, even a tommy gun that seemed to actually be able to shoot rubber bands. He was going to put all of it together and show you that he wasn't fucking embarrassed and he could do it.

By the end of the evening he only got the puzzle box together, having spent a long time making sure everything was sanded and waxed so it was opening and closing smoothly. Of course you had an entire vase of wooden flowers and some sort of music box together. The smug smile you gave him at the fact you had more completed didn't sit right with him.

So the next day he tackled the rest of the kits you had left him. He got his revenge that night when he shot a rubber band at your ass with his completed and functioning tommy gun. Maybe those kits weren't so terrible after all. Ignoring the way you were glaring daggers into the back of his head, he happily started yet another kit, some sort of space rover looking thing.

He didn't question that the pile of kits never seemed to get smaller, or that there were sizeable purchases coming up on his account. He'd let you enjoy the spoils of actually managing to get his card without him realizing.

And so by the end of his forced med leave, Simon had his own army of wooden creations, with a few extra kits left. If anything they were something to look forward to on his next mission. And even if he wasn't expecting the new shelves in his office when he got back, he could admit that his wooden army looked rather good on them.

Maybe he'd keep an eye out for more flower kits. For variety sake.

----------------

Edit; He's on med leave because he got shrapnel in the ass. Don't worry his bum is okay, we can still touch it...one day

[charliedawn]

forgive me if I’m not explaining this concept properly as I am currently SOBBING MY EYES OUT FROM YOUR FANFICTION CHARLIE.

imagine that once all the slashers left when they were deemed sane they all accidentally moved to the same street or something and we got Slashers the Sitcom

this is the only thought I’ve had since reading that that didn’t make me cry so I felt you should have it

the Hannibal’s should be their creepy out of town tourists or new neighbors that get a one season spin off show.

You’re doing great with your writing Charlie 😁

(Here is my fluff apology. 😉)

The nights had become too quiet. The facility once teeming with chaos, tension, and the unnerving energy of its infamous inhabitants now felt empty. You tried to adjust, finding solace in your routine, but nothing could fill the void they had left behind. The slashers—your slashers—were gone.

You had heard whispers about where they went, rumors from the outside world about strange occurrences, but nothing solid. Sometimes, you found yourself wondering about each of them—what they were doing, if they were safe, or if they even thought about you.

Then one night, as you sat in your office, the silence was broken. A chill ran down your spine, the hairs on your neck standing on end as you sensed…something. The feeling was familiar, one you hadn’t felt since they had left, and it made your heart pound. But before you could make sense of it, the lights flickered and the door creaked open.

You blinked, frozen in place, as Freddy Krueger strolled in, his signature smirk plastered across his face. "Missed me, sweetheart ?"

Before you could respond, the room was suddenly filled with more faces—Bo, Jason, Pennywise, Brahms, and the rest of the slashers, all filing in like they had never left. All the slashers you had helped during your career. All the friends you had made along the way. They could barely fit all inside the room and you were suddenly surrounded.

"Boys, boys, give ‘em some space !" Bo barked, pushing through the group. "Can’t just barge in like that !" His gruff voice carried the same Southern twang, but his eyes were softer than you remembered.

"What…What’s going on ?" you managed to choke out, your mind spinning as you looked at each of them. "Why are you all here ?"

Freddy chuckled, running his claw along the edge of your desk. "We missed ya, Nurse Y/N. Couldn’t leave ya in this dump, could we ?" His grin widened as the others nodded in agreement, some more subtly than others. "So we decided…why not kidnap ya ?"

Jason, standing silently at the back of the room, shifted uncomfortably, but even he nodded, his masked face giving you a reassuring glance.

You were dumbfounded.

"You’re not serious…"

Brahms stepped forward, his voice soft and pleading. "We didn’t want you to be lonely…You took care of us. Now we’ll take care of you." He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm before he held your hand.

Before you could react further, Penny popped up beside you, his grin sharp and wide. "Guess what, Nurse Y/N ? We’ve all decided to move to Elm Street !" His voice was filled with manic glee, and he leaned in closer. "And you’re coming with us."

Your eyes widened.

Elm Street ? What was that ?

Freddy’s chuckle darkened. "Oh yeah, baby. We’ve got the perfect place for you, right in the middle of our little setup." He leaned closer, his claw resting lightly against your cheek. "You’re gonna love it. It’s got that…cozy, homicidal feel to it. With spiderwebs and we spent weeks painting the walls. Yer gonna love it, I tell ya !"

"Come on, darlin'," Bo added, crossing his arms. "Ain’t no point stayin’ in this dead place when you could be livin’ with us. We got a home now. Together."

Your heart raced. This was too much. How ? When ? What ? "But why—why would you want me to live with you all ? I thought you’d…want your freedom."

Michael stepped forward then, towering over the others. He didn’t speak, of course, but the way he placed his hand on your shoulder told you everything you needed to know. You were part of their family now, and they weren’t going to leave you behind.

"You gave us freedom, sweetheart," Freddy purred, his voice softer now. "But what’s freedom without a little fun ? And we all know you’re the one who kept us in line. Plus, we’ve kinda grown attached. I MEAN BORED ! Yeah. Bored. ‘Cause ya know…we slashers feel bored when we ain’t got ya around to mess with and shit…"

Bo raised an eyebrow and smirked at Freddy before elbowing him playfully.

"Nice save, dumbass."

Freddy flipped him off in response while you tried to make sense of everything.

Brahms clung to your side, his eyes wide and desperate. "Don’t make us go without you again…please."

You felt a wave of warmth rush over you, despite the absurdity of it all. These killers, these monsters who had tormented so many, had come back for you. Not out of revenge, not to pull you into some twisted nightmare, but because they genuinely wanted you with them.

You swallowed hard, trying to process it all. "So…you really all want me to move to Elm Street ? With you ?"

Freddy grinned, slapping Jason on the back. "Told ya they’d come around."

Bo sighed, rolling his eyes. "We ain’t askin’, darlin’. We’re tellin’ ya. Yer comin’ with us. Now, move that cute butt up yer chair and let’s go."

Pennywise chuckled. "We already packed your things, Nursey." He gestured dramatically to the doorway, where your bags were already neatly stacked.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded, before a small laugh escaped your lips. This was crazy. You were crazy. "You packed my things ? But…what about the staff ? What about the board ?"

Jack smirked before giving you a paper which wrote that the board had been warned and that since there were no more patients inside the hospital, you and the staff should move in Elm Street to keep an eye on the slashers.

"All taken care of, sweet cheeks."

Your eyes widened and they filled with tears.

They must have spent weeks to get that authorisation and convince the board. You looked up at them and Patricia smiled before wiping your tears with her thumbs.

"Now now, dear. Don’t cry. It’s okay. We were not going to abandon you. Not when you never abandoned us."

"But how did you…How did you even plan for all this ? How did you…?" You were at a loss for words.

Freddy shrugged and playfully winked at you. "What can I say ? We’re thoughtful that way."

In that moment, you realized there was no point in arguing. This strange, dysfunctional group had wormed their way into your life, into your heart. And now, they were offering you a place with them—a very surprising tempting offer that you knew you had no choice but to accept. Not because you didn’t have a choice, but because you genuinely wanted to.

"Alright," you sighed, smiling softly. "I’ll come with you."

The room erupted into cheers—well, as much as this group of killers could cheer. Freddy whooped, Bo grinned, and even Jason’s eyes sparkled with something close to contentment. Brahms hugged you tightly, and Pennywise cackled in delight.

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. Maybe Elm Street wasn’t the safest place in the world, but with them…it didn’t seem so bad. And as you stepped outside the facility for the last time, surrounded by your unlikely family, you realized you weren’t going to miss the quiet anymore.

You were going home…

"WELCOME TO ELM STREET, BABY !"

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒿 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈.”

contains:SMUT<3

summary:while on my walk home, a very familiar cadillac pulls up beside me.rolling down the window calling out for me, my ex-boyfriend convinces me into his car for a quick “chat”.

WARNINGS:softdom!tom, sub!reader, light nipple play, pet-names, praising, blowjob, throat-fucking, make-out session, cat-calling, quickie, dry-humping, ex-sex.

notes:guys please excuse my last post im ovulating and i got horny in the middle of the night :3.

ugh today has been such a long and stressful day at work, finally im making my way back home, with music blasting in my ipod head-phones as i take in my surroundings, the orange sky and the sound of the city.

i was about 5-ish blocks away from my apartment before i randomly get the feeling of someone watching me and i was correct, i slowly turn my head over to the side of the road, taking a head-phone out of my ear and of course i see that stupid, ugly, pathetic cadillac i knew so annoyingly well and i instantly knew very well who eyes were watching me inside.

to no surprise he rolls the window down and stops the car, our eyes meet for the first time in 4 months.

“hii gorgeous, what are you doing baby?”he chuckles with that smug smile that i once absolutely adored, now only brutally hated.

i scoffed disgusted at his flirting, i decided to continue walking, putting my head-phone back in my ear.over my loud music i still managed hear his car driving slowly beside me and his long string of cat-calls.

“cmon doll, i’ll give you a ride!”

“schatzi (sweetheart), i know you hear me!”

“cmere, baby!”

“whats a pretty girl like you doing walking alone, it’s getting dark out y’know!”

i mean it was pushing 6:30 and the sun was already beginning to set, and i most definitely didnt wanna walk the rest of 5 blocks i had left on top of the 10 i already had walked.i sighed stopping right in my tracks taking my head-phones out of my ears and placing them in my tote-bag along with my ipod, before turning fully to the vehicle, signaling for him to unlock the door.

he smirked ignorantly, the door quickly unlocking with a switch of a button allowing me inside.i settle in the passenger’s seat, refusing to make eye-contact with him.

“how you been, i haven’t seen you since-well you know..”he questioned trying to make conversation as he began to drive again, his tone now more serious and gentle, taking note of my annoyed face and my refusal to meet his eyes.

“ive been okay just been busy with work, and you tom?” i replied obviously not interested in making small talk, especially with someone who dumped me.

“thats good, uh ive just been busy too with touring and promoting the new album, been thinkin’ about you a lot lately though schatz (sweetheart).”

“oh yeahh righttt.”i chuckle sarcastically, i know he had hundreds of girls throwing themselves at him everyday and night, heck they were even while we were together, there was absolutely no way he being honest.

“im serious, sometimes i ask myself why i let you go and, i mean really who would forget such a pretty girl like you hm?”he teased looking over to me, placing a hand on my thigh before looking back to the road ahead.

my heart begins to pump and race at the sudden contact of his large hand rubbing and softly gripping on my flesh, i could almost hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears.

i know i know what your thinking, and i was really struggling trying to maintain some sort of strength, i mean the guy dumped me!i also know hes just sweet-talking me like he always did but with someone so charming and handsome as THE tom kaulitz, it was like handing a child a huge lollipop and asking them not to eat it, absolutely impossible.

we sit in silence for another few minutes, still he continues to caress my thigh before he looks over to me again searching in my face for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort , to which he only finds willingness and desire.he nods, then proceeds to pull into an empty, quiet, hidden alleyway, parking the car before shutting off the ignition.

i waste no second more to quickly climb over to tom, straddling his lap my thighs resting on the sides of his own, capturing his lips into a hot kiss.he kisses back immediately toms hands finding their way effortlessly to my hips, helping me grind my clothed cunt against his urging length, creating a delicious friction.

we continue passionately making-out, our tongues swirling and intertwining perfectly into one-another.

as hes savoring the sweet taste of my lips, he removes his hands away from hips now using his left hand to lift up my skirt squeezing and slapping my delicate skin, his right hand finding its way inside my shirt, the tips of his fingers now rubbing fast circles on the buds of my tender breasts.

i moan lightly into his mouth, my eyes shutting as i take in the amazing sensation, my teeth biting down softly on his wet lips, my hips rocking recklessly against his seeking any further friction.

he pulls away from the kiss moaning and groaning with me, his cock begging to be released right at that instant.

“steig hinten ein, engel (get in the back, angel).”

i immediately comply, hopping off of his lap and climbing into the back seat, he follows shortly behind sitting down before going back to meeting his lips with mine.

he takes my hand in his and places it upon his groin, helping me begin to palm him through his baggy jeans, he groans into my mouth, his eye-brows furrowing together.

i take the lead now and pull away from his lips, looking into his eyes then looking down to his lap, i then lean over and quickly unbuckle his belt pulling his jeans down enough for his hardened length to be visible in his blue checkered boxers, begging to be pleased.i slip my hand in his underwear and pull his cock out, it swings out hitting his stomach before bouncing back up.

“your killing me here, c-cmon baby..”he whines impatiently.

i softly chuckle before i lowered my head down, my lips now not even an inch away from his leaky tip.i teasingly lick a few rings around his tip and lick up and down the sides of his shaft before i slowly take his length into my mouth.

he scoots up and relaxes his legs as he makes a make-shift pony tail out of my loose hair.i then begin to glide up and and down his cock, his tip once in a while kissing the back of throat.

“ohh f-fuckk keep sucking it that mmh-prinzessin (princess).”he praises, his head tilting backwards and hitting the headrest of the seat, his grip on hair becoming tighter.

i keep up a steady, quick, consistent pace throughout, using my left hand to stroke the extra inches i couldnt fit inside my mouth, i moan as i suck him off, sending high vibrations straight through his cock.

hes a complete groaning and whining mess, gripping my hair with one hand gripping the seat with the other.

“look ughh-into my eyes..”

“g-god i missed your fucking lips on my mmh-dick so much, doll.”

my watery eyes quickly looked up into his maintaining long eye-contact before looking back down.

he bucks his hips into my mouth seeking further relief, his orgasm coming in any moment now, his mouth hangs open mumbling desperate swears from his lips.he then grabs the sides of face with both of his hands and starts harshly fucking his cock into my throat.

i whimper as his tip rapidly stabs into the back of throat, my hands squeezing the leather of the seats, my eyes now crying from the brutality.

“f-fuck fuck im gonna cum!”

he announced before taking his length quickly out of my mouth and placing it on my blood-like-red lips.he pumps his length urgently, squeezing his eyes shut and with a primal grunt busts a fat load on my lips, covering my lips with his cum like lipgloss.

i lick the salty white substance from my lips, looking deeply into his eyes as i swallow, before an idea suddenly pops into my head-

“wanna finish this at my place, babe?”

“fuck yeah.”

THE END

[hetalimagines]

General headcanons for Alfred as a boyfriend (SFW)

Here's my first actual post on this blog, hehe... I can't find the ask but someone requested some Alfred headcanons, so here are my rambles about what I think he's like as a boyfriend!

He’s honestly not the most traditionally romantic person. Your relationship is more like friends who make out sometimes. But he does have his own little ways of showing you he loves you!

He’ll put together playlists of songs that remind him of you. They’re mostly loose connections, like maybe a song mentions your eye color, or the lyrics remind him of a date you went on together, or it just sounds romantic and makes him wanna kiss you. He likes to sit with you while you listen (to every single song), and he interrupts the songs a bit to explain why he chose them.

“This one had me thinking what if we were dancing in a ballroom together, and out of nowhere, bam! Zombies bust in. The door crashes to the ground! Our dance turns into one of those cool fighting scenes with the—oh, this part reminded me of the time I woke up early and you were about to fall off the bed. You had a cute bedhead.”

(You have no idea what the lyrics are at this point.)

Dates with him are pretty casual, more like “hanging out” than anything fancy. Maybe you stay at home and watch movies/play games, or you go out for dinner at a local diner, or you go do awful karaoke together, or you go and prank a friend together.

He’s happy as long as he’s with you. Bonus if there’s food and/or drink.

He occasionally takes you out to a more traditional restaurant and dresses for the occasion. They’re usually expensive, too. The food isn’t his preference (too complicated for his palate), but if it makes you happy, he’s all for dealing with it for just one night.

His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’s always doing what he can to help you out (and feel proud of himself in the process). Whether he helps you run errands, runs a bath for you ahead of time, or fluffs your pillow before you get in bed, it’s all because he wants to make your life easier!

He gets a little jealous if you ever spend time with your shared friends without him, or if you spend more time with others than him.

He’s so excited if you take interest in any of his hobbies. Movies? He’ll ask if you want to co-write a script with him. (He’s very relaxed about what exactly ends up in the script.) Archaeology? He has so many random facts to dump on you, and he’ll be super impressed by any knowledge you have on it. Conspiracy theories? Time to watch a bunch of documentaries! He enjoys them despite their flaws, but lets you know exactly when something is false and what actually happened.

He tries to take interest in your hobbies, too, even if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. It could be the most boring thing and he’d still listen and ask you questions about it. If it makes you happy, he wants to know all about it.

Pet names from him consist of things like babe, dude (💀), honey, occasionally sweetie, (jokingly… mostly) prince or princess. It’s all over the place. He’ll call you honey and dude back-to-back sometimes.

He loves debating if you’re comfortable with it! But be warned, he gets very heated about certain topics. His sense of justice is important to him. Otherwise, he’s usually not serious about these debates and doesn’t care who wins.

He tries to keep things light and doesn’t usually let people see his more serious side. He’ll open up to you more over time, however. It’s really him letting a wall down and allowing himself to get closer to you.

Every now and then, he has days where he’s a lot quieter and calmer than usual. He just wants to relax, stay on the couch with you and watch movies or simply chat. Maybe a movie chattering in the background as he tells you about his childhood. He doesn’t try so hard to keep up this energetic, heroic persona.

He’s right back to normal the next day like nothing happened.

Likes to annoy you for fun. Not in a mean-spirited way. He just thinks your responses are cute and has poor impulse control. Poking your cheeks or ruffling your hair or playing an obnoxious song loudly on the stereo while he dances. But he’ll back off if you’re genuinely upset with him. He means no harm.

He loves if you’re willing to play along with whatever he gets up to. Maybe he’s decided he’s going to try and vacuum the whole house while doing a handstand on the vacuum. You can hold onto his legs to help him stay balanced.

This man is very impulsive and has a tendency to get himself hurt. Random bruises all over his body or a cut along his forearm. He bounces back easily, and doesn’t want to fuss over it, but he lowkey likes if you baby him about it. He’ll always say how it’s not a big deal and he can take it, but his heart does this little flutter when you show concern, and even more if you force him to take better care of himself.

He burns himself in the kitchen and you force him to run it under cold water. He’s swooning inside.

He likes to gossip about others, especially over breakfast. He can’t help it; he’s just nosy, and he always has an idea of what’s going on and how he can help out. Huge bonus if you gossip with him!

He loves to feed you, but the majority of the food he brings for you is burgers or tubs of ice cream. He likes to experiment with the burgers’ toppings and seasonings, but they’re all burgers nonetheless.

Every now and then, he does plan some big romantic endeavor. It’s like a surprise. You never know when it’s coming… You wake up one morning and find out he’s booked a week long cruise, your bedroom is filled with balloons, and there’s enough breakfast food on the table to feed an army.

He does this thing sometimes (often) where he swoops in and has to save you. A puddle on the ground? No need to fear! He picks you up and swiftly carries you over it. The safest place for you is in his arms. He’ll even lay down and let you use him as a bridge if you want.

A suspicious penny on the sidewalk? LOOK OUT, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB! Let HIM step on it before you get blown up!

He steps on it. Nothing happens. Better safe than sorry!

If you’re the more independent type, that won’t stop him from trying. He just wants to keep you safe and have you appreciate his efforts. Being disinterested or resistant will just make him try harder.

Says cheesy stuff like “happy wife, happy life” unironically. He’s also the type to use terrible pickup lines to flirt with you. Totally unaware of how bad they are until you start laughing.

He also doesn’t care that they’re bad. He’s just having fun.

Loves to give you his clothes to wear. Seriously. You want one of his hoodies? Try six of them.

You complain when one stops smelling like him so he puts it on, works out, then gives it back to you like :D! Fixed the problem!

He takes so many pictures of you guys. Videos, too. His phone storage is eaten up by it. His favorite thing is to take selfies together. Usually with some silly filter. Or an even sillier caption.

“me and the babe out shopping” and it’s a picture of you, holding a piece of fruit with the dog ears filter

He’s not the most physically affectionate, but he always gives you morning kisses and especially kisses before leaving the house. He also loves carrying you around (mostly bridal style) in his arms for no reason other than he can. A hand on your back, another on your thighs, your head pressed against his chest. He loves it.

He loves knowing you find him physically attractive! He worries sometimes about being too overweight, so any reassurance that you like his body helps. If you think he’s hot, and you’re hot yourself, that must mean he definitely is.

Has a tendency to call you hot, but he’ll call you other things if it makes you uncomfortable.

Occasionally brags about you and how lucky he is. Not as often as you might think. Though he gets oddly competitive if anyone acts like their partner is better than you and starts spouting whatever he can so everyone knows you’re the absolute best. No competition.

[forever-rogue]

Could I request something with the prompt, “that’s a mighty sexy costume you’re wearing” with best friend!Eddie seeing bookworm!Reader in a skimpy costume for the first time? Maybe a lil smutty, if you want, but no pressure! - @munson-blurbs 💚

AN | Ooh, this is a great idea! I feel like Eddie would just short circuit! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.9k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I have bad news," you walked into the trailer without ceremony or announcing yourself, dumping your purse near the door and kicking off your shoes.

Eddie looked up from the couch, where he was sprawled out, nose buried in his book. He quickly set it down and gave you his full attention, raising an eyebrow.

“The absolute worst,” you flopped down on the couch where he had made room for you, huffing dramatically. Eddie snorted in amusement as you made yourself comfortable on the opposite, positioning yourself so that your feet were touching his. You relaxed slightly now that you were back in his presence, his magnetic warmth and charm washing over you. 

“And just what are these horrible, terrible, very bad news?” he nudged your foot with his and offered you a small, encouraging smile. You could have easily melted into a puddle from that alone, “lay it on me.”

“I…” you leaned in, playing up the theatrics as you knew from years of being his best friend that he often did. He mirrored your position, the two of you looking at each other with matching grins.

“You…”

“I…don’t have a Halloween costume,” with that, you leaned back and threw your arm over your eyes, making a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, “what am I supposed to do now?”

“Oh. My. God,” he reached for your hands and pulled you closer, a deeply concerned look on his face, “this is the worst. What are we going to do? I think…I think we might have to cancel Halloween this year.”

“NO!” you closed your  eyes and clutched at your heart, “no. It’s our favorite holiday. You must go on without me!” 

When you looked at Eddie again, the two of you broke into a fit of giggles. He loved when you were like this, so free and open and utterly yourself. He knew you were shy and more quiet around others - until you warmed up to them - but there had always been something special, something different about the bond the two of you shared. You were…everything to him, even if you, or he, didn't know that.

"C'mon sweetheart," he stood up and gestured toward the kitchen with a crook of his head, "pizza got here just before you did. Let's eat and then we can figure out this little conundrum."

"What kind did you get?" You bounced after him, stomach almost grumbling as you took in the mouth watering sight of the pizza boxes.

"My favorite and yours," he stated as though it was the most obvious thing into the world, "didn't really think I'd let me girl go without exactly what she wants, right?"

"N-no," my girl. Your head was buzzing with those two simple words. He'd said them so many times over the years that sometimes you even allowed yourself to think that they held more meaning than they truly did, "I should have known better."

"Yes you should have," he reached into the fridge and pulled out a few beers, "now dig in so we can start our movie and then solve all your problems!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"So," the two of you were sitting on the floor of the trailer's living room. The space was always cozy and inviting, especially towards the colder months, always overflowing with blankets and good food. You took a big bite of pizza and chewed it thoughtfully, "what led to this coming to an issue?"

"Ugh," you swallowed thickly before wiping your greasy fingers on a napkin, "I went to a couple of stores and halloween shops to look for costumes with Nance and Robin. And there was practically nothing there!"

"Nothing of interest? Nada? Zilch?"

"There were some," you admitted sheepishly, cheeks growing warm as you thought to the costumes you did see. Eddie seemed to sense your hesitation and motioned for you to go on. His big brown eyes were concentrated on you and that made your mouth run dry, "but they were umm…they were sexy."

You whispered the last part so softly that Eddie almost didn't even hear you. But once he processed what you said, his face went through a copy of different expressions before settling on curiosity, "sexy?"

"Sexy," you repeated gravely with a nod, "like sexy nurse, sexy witch, sexy pirate, sexy everything! The only costumes that weren't like that were the complete opposite! I can either be a sexy scientist or a big, round pumpkin. Why can't there be a middle ground?"

Eddie had been listening, and listening intently, but his brain was currently having a moment. As soon as you said sexy, his mind went completely into the gutter. He would have been a dirty, filthy liar if he said he hadn't immediately started imagining you in said costumes. He hated that he did that but he was just a simple man after all. And you were the girl he was in love with so naturally…it went hand in hand.

"Eddie? Hello….earth to Eddie," you were waving your hand in front of his face as he blinked and pulled himself back into reality. His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of bubblegum pink as he smiled sheepishly at you, "you alright there, space cadet?"

“Y-yeah,” and he was a liar. A damn, dirty liar. He was currently trying, and struggling, not to pop a boner at the mere thought of you. Eddie shifted slightly to try and make his situation a little less obvious but it didn’t help, “so…umm, ugh - maybe we could make costumes?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought about too,” luckily you were so worried about your own ordeal that you didn’t notice his, “I guess we could do that. Maybe as a last resort. I was thinking about going into Indy with Steve soon and looking. I’m sure I’ll figure something out. You still want to go to that big party with everyone, right?”

“Of course - as long as it’s what you want,” he was always looking out for you. It made you feel so safe and loved, “but that sounds like it’ll be fun. Can’t wait for Steve to bust out those dance moves again.”

“Seriously!” The last party the lot of you had been to had ended with a very not sober Steve who insisted he could dance. He couldn’t but it was still hilarious for the rest of you, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun! I just have to figure out a costume, which I’m sure I will.”

“Of course you will, sweetheart,” was it shameful that Eddie was lowkey but definitely high key wishing for you to wear something sexy? Probably, but his brain was feeling very simple at the moment, “this Halloween will be a great one.”

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think I am having second thoughts,” you looked yourself over in the mirror and sighed deeply, “a lot of them.”

“You look amazing,” Robin appeared behind you in the mirror, hands on your shoulders as she pressed a kiss to your cheek, “stunning.”

“I feel naked,” you definitely weren’t but it was still way less clothing than you were used to wearing or that anyone had seen you in. Looks like you really went with sexy after all. It was supposed to be just nerdy…but it ended up being that and a whole lot more. Or less if you were really thinking about it, “are you sure this doesn’t look ridiculous?”

“Princess Leia would be proud,” She grinned at you before stepping into the bathroom to finish her own makeup. You cringed slightly…you had a feeling Leia wouldn’t inherently be proud but she was all about autonomy and you were exercising yours so…it was all fine. Right? Right.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” you grabbed your coat off the hook by the front door and wrapped yourself up in it. There was no reason to be cold already after all.

“Coming!” Nancy and Robin were both putting on the last touches to their costumes - a couple’s costume - which you thought was already. Their relationship wasn’t terribly new anymore but you could see just how enamored they were with each other. It was disgustingly cute. You couldn’t help but wonder at times, if Eddie had ever looked at you like that. If only you knew.

“This is going to be so much fun!” the three of you were meeting the boys at the party and you couldn’t completely shake off the nerves. Especially every time you thought of Eddie. 

You supposed you’d get his response soon enough. What would happen was anyone’s guess.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Was your costume…supposed to be girl in trenchcoat?” Eddie’s voice was soft and warm in your ear as the two of you headed towards the bar to get some drinks for the table. People around you were in various stages of sobriety and costumes, but it was a good party and everyone seemed to be having a good time. You were ready to do the same…maybe. Hopefully a few drinks would help. 

“No…not really,” you turned to Eddie and couldn’t help but look him up and down again. He was dressed as a vampire, silly plastic fangs half hanging out of his mouth. He looked pretty good, but you loved the fact that he still managed to be so himself, “it’s underneath.”

“Are you gonna show me or are you going to keep it hidden all night?” he settled his hands on your waist as he stood behind you as you approached the bar. The feel of his touch on you sent electric shivers down your spine. If only he knew how close he was to touching your bare skin, “mmm, sweetheart?”

“I-I can show you,” your eyes grew wide, heart pounding as loudly as the bass pouring through the club’s speakers. You swallowed thickly, “but can we go somewhere a little more private? I’m still not sure if I’m totally comfortable with it. I guess…maybe you could give me your opinion.”

His curiosity was piqued as he blinked at you a few times before nodding, “yes, of course. Always.”

He almost died when he felt your fingers wrapped around his wrist, quickly following behind as you pulled him towards a more secluded area near the bathrooms. Once you were sure you were away from prying eyes, you fumbled with the belt holding your coat closed. 

“If it’s super terrible, be nice please. It’s so out of my comfort zone and I don’t know what I was thinking, but here we are,” before he could say anything, you unknotted the tie and let the coat fall open. After a moment to psych yourself up, you shrugged the coat off and draped it over one arm and gave Eddie a vague little ta da. 

He didn’t say anything - couldn’t say anything as he stared at you. It took every fiber of his being to remain objective and not let his more animal part of his brain take over. You interpreted his silence to mean it was terrible and that he’d never seen anything worse. You scrambled to try and put on your coat again, but he put his hand on your arm and shook his head, “Eddie?”

“That’s…umm. Wow. That’s a mighty sexy Halloween costume,” he finally spoke and his voice sounded so strained. You bit your lip and looked at him with big doe eyes; you were going to be the death of him, “sweetheart, I thought…this wasn’t what you wanted?”

“It wasn’t initially what I wanted but then I couldn’t find anything else and then I just sorta settled on…this,” you gestured vaguely at yourself, keenly aware of how much the Princess Leia bikini costume revealed - it left very little to the imagination, “umm, is it that bad?”

“N-no,” he swallowed the thick lump in his throat, “fuck no. You look amazing.”

And oh. That wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. Eddie wasn’t sure if he was really going to say that to you, but he didn’t feel like holding back either. Maybe now was the time - the time to tell you how he’d felt about you for so long now. 

“Really?” you sounded much too sweet and demure for someone looking so ridiculously sexy. He nodded so vigorously that his chocolatey curls were bouncing around, “it’s not…stupid?”

“Not at all,” his hands settled on your forearms as he looked around. There was something that came over him that caused him to feel partially possessive of you, “listen I…fuck. You look so good and I know what all those guys are going to be thinking. Because…honestly? I’m thinking the same thing.”

“What do you…oh,” your entire body felt like it was on fire from his intense gaze. You weren’t exactly sure what response you had been expecting from him, but this wasn’t what you had imagined. It felt so…invigorating and thrilling, “you think it…I look good?”

“Angel, you always look good - better than good. But this is…a whole level,” you swore his eyes got darker as he leaned in closer, his cologne washing over you, “never thought my little bookworm would look like this.”

“Me neither,” you weren’t sure if you were reading the situation right, or just dreaming that it was going the way it was, but you were definitely feeling a type of way, “I guess we should go back to everyone.”

“Hmm? Oh,” he silently cursed the fact that you were at a party. He wanted you all to himself and he didn’t care that it was selfish, “yeah. I guess we should.”

“It’ll be fun,” you nudged his arm with a small smile, “c’mon, let’s go and get those drinks.”

You were still feeling self-conscious but Eddie’s reaction gave you a little bit of a much needed confidence boost. He trailed closely behind you as you made your way back to the bar; he could see the way heads turned in your direction, eagerly looking you up and down. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he huffed under his breath, glaring down anyone who looked at you for too long. 

He didn’t even care if it made him look like an asshole. You were his and tonight he was going to make sure you and everyone else knew that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The party seemed to drag on and on, and Eddie knew that he was probably getting more sour by the minute. He kept an eye on you as you went out and danced with Robin and Nancy, his conversation with the guys half-hearted as he kept zoning out of the conversation. As it grew later into the evening, Eddie had had enough. 

“Sweetheart,” he found you at a table with Nancy and Robin and a few other girls that you’d befriended. He leaned in so only you could hear, “do you want to go? It’s getting late. We could-”

“Yes!” you turned to him eagerly, already waving goodbye to your friends as Eddie shot them an apologetic look. Robin and Nancy weren’t bothered, they were more than supportive of what was going on. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” The cool night breeze was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the club. He offered you your coat back and you slipped back into it, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Can we go to yours instead?” and why would Eddie ever deny you? You looped your arm through his and leaned in close as you walked to the van, “maybe we can watch a scary movie or something. I just…I wanna hang out with you.”

“Of course,” he gave you a gentle squeeze as he opened the door to the van and helped you in. He would have done anything for you - anything you asked of him, “to Casa Munson we go!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eddie?" The two of you were sitting criss cross applesauce on the living room floor, a big bowl of popcorn between your bodies and some random slasher playing on the television. He shoved his handful of popcorn into his mouth and motioned for you to go on. You were both still in costumes and he was struggling not to keep stealing glances at you, "can I ask you something?"

"Ofcourseanything," he mumbled through his mouth of popcorn. He swallowed it down before nodding and clearing his throat, "yeah."

"Would you have sex with me?"

Eddie choked on air as soon as he heard your question, coughing violently as he tried to figure out if you had seriously asked him that. Your own face turned so warm you were sure you could fry an egg on it. 

“I just…I meant like if you didn’t know me or if you like had any more feelings than just friends feelings,” you were quickly trying to backtrack and reiterate your question. You almost wished that you hadn’t said anything at all, “like would you have sex with me if you saw me like this?”

“I…” Eddie’s brain was short circuiting as he tried not to imagine all the ways and scenarios in which he would very much like to have sex with you. The question now was how would he tell you that yes, he would very much have sex with you without weirding you out or ruining everything. That or he could just…he could tell you how he truly felt.

“You know what, nevermind,” you were ready to stand up and run out. You’d run home if you had to - anything to avoid more of this situation, “forget I asked. I just…yeah. Sorry, Eddie. Can we just pretend that nothing happened?”

“Yes,”  he said suddenly just as you were sure you were going to die of embarrassment.

“Umm…yes to what? Yes to ignoring that this happened or -”

“Yes, I would have sex with you,” you froze, eyes almost comically wide as you stared at him. Eddie’s entire face and neck were turning to a violent shade of crimson, “I-I respectfully of course.”

“You would?” you sounded so sweet and innocent despite not even trying to, “really?”

“Yes,” he nodded fervently as you relaxed, leaning in closer to him. If it had been almost any other man you would have felt uncomfortable but never with Eddie. He’d never once made you feel anything by safe and happy and…loved. A nervous laugh escaped the boy as he scooted closer, your hands almost brushing, “I don’t just want…it wouldn’t just be sex. It’s about so much more than that. Because I…it’s never just been that. I feel…very strongly for you.”

“Eddie?” your entire body felt like it was vibrating with energy as your heart pounded in your ribcage. You were surprised it didn’t burst through your ribcage with how hard it was going. Was he seriously saying what you thought he was? Was there actually a chance that Eddie Munson felt the same the way about you that you felt about him? You leaned in so your face was closer to his, voice dropping low, “what do you mean? Tell me…please.”

"Sweetheart…fuck. I've thought about this so many times in the past. Pictured this exact moment so many times…but you're not usually in a Princess Leia costume," his little quip caused both of you to laugh softly, "I adore you. I have for so long now and I love everything about you and who you are and…I'm in love with you."

Oh. Oh. You hadn’t been expecting to hear that. Maybe you had, deep down, always known how Eddie truly felt. But hearing him verbalize it was on a whole other level. When you didn’t say anything in response, Eddie feared that he had said the entirely wrong thing. 

But then you looked at him with nothing short of heart eyes, smiling softly. That was definitely one of his favorite sights in the entire world. He hoped he'd get to see it every day for the rest of his lifetime.

"I've pictured this moment too, so many times," you moved your hand closer, letting your pinky brush against his, "and it didn't involve you as a vampire. Usually though, in these scenarios I'm one that says it first. I adore you beyond words, Eddie."

He brought his hand to gently rest on yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You looked down at your hands and couldn't keep the beaming grin off your face. This evening had definitely taken a turn that you weren't expecting.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" His face was close to yours and you studied him. He really was pretty with those soft brown eyes and pink lips and the faint freckles that dotted along his cheeks and nose. You nodded once before reaching up and touching his face with your free hand, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

"I'm in love with you, Eddie."

He let out an incredulous little sigh as his eyes quickly shifted down to your lips. Your tummy was fluttering with butterflies by now, "may I kiss you?"

"I hope so," with Eddie there were no nerves, only sheer excitement, "we've waited long enough for this."

That was all he needed before he closed the small bit of remaining distance and pressed his lips to yours. You couldn't help the small sigh that escaped your lips as you leaned into him, wanting every bit of him. As he continued to kiss you, you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Eddie was pretty sure he was in heaven as his hands settled on the soft, warm skin of your hips. There was no learning curve with him, it just all felt right and natural, like the two of you had been doing it forever.

He kissed you dizzy and neither of you pulled away until you were breathless. He pressed his forehead to yours and took your face tenderly in his hands.

"This is better than I ever imagined," he confessed sheepishly. You could feel that he was getting hard as you rocked yourself against him, "fuck, sweetheart."

"Don't stop," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, "don't ever stop kissing me."

"Sweetheart," he was breathing hard, his entire world being rocked by you, "if we keep going I'm not sure I'll be able to stop. And I don't want to push you or make you do anything you don't want to."

"I want this," you were kissing along his jaw and neck, finally marking what had always been yours, "I want you. And not just now, but always."

"O-okay," he was having a hard time not losing it and cumming in his pants like a teenager at the feeling of your lips and hands all over his skin, "me too."

"I love you, Eddie," you stopped and softly kissed his lips, "so much."

"I love you too, angel," he nudged his nose against yours, "happy Halloween."

"Eddie," your laugh was like magic. You both knew you'd remember this day and this Halloween for the rest of your lives, "happy Halloween, love."

[sodamnradd]

“Heya, mate. Is Hermione Granger around?”

Draco leaned over the counter, giving the pathetic, gap-toothed wanker sporting a Flourish & Blotts t-shirt a bored look. “Hermione Granger?” he intoned as if he had never heard that name before.

Gap-Tooth shuffled uneasily. “Yeah. She works here. Doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Draco inspected his nails.

Gap-Tooth wandered off awkwardly, pretending to scan the shelves.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he paused at the Love Potions, kept under strict lock and key.

Gap-Tooth asked, “Erm are you able to—?”

“No,” said Draco, point-blank.

Something about Draco’s expression made him pale, and he was out the door less than ten seconds later.

When Gap-Tooth was gone, Draco glanced down and said, “You’re all clear.”

Dusting off her trousers, Granger rose to her feet and picked up the inventory scroll again. “I’ve told him I’m not interested,” she said, purposely avoiding Draco’s eye.

“You didn’t drive the point. He probably thinks he’s being cute stalking you everywhere.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t even visit Flourish and Blotts anymore.”

“Ordering books in the mail is more efficient.”

He might have believed her if it weren’t for the countless times she’d returned late from her lunch break, carrying teetering piles of new books. But ever since Gap-Tooth started working there, lunchtimes were reduced to eating soggy sandwiches in the lab.

Gap-Tooth returned two days later.

Granger didn’t see him coming through the shopfront window and he caught her unaware, shelving cloud-shaped vials of Dreamless Sleep. His voice made her jump, a couple of bottles flying out of her hands and shattering.

Draco groaned, enchanting the mop and pail to clean up the mess but keeping his distance while Granger attempted to dodge Gap-Tooth’s advances.

Gap-Tooth: Something, something “…thought you worked here but…” gesturing to Draco.

Granger, giggling awkwardly: “Did he? Draco’s such a…” Something.

Draco raised a brow, wondering what she’d called him because it almost sounded affectionate.

Gap-Tooth: Mumble, mumble “…go out sometime?”

Granger more awkward giggling, cheeks pink: “…so busy… not really dating… you’re nice but…”

Gap-Tooth, realising he was losing his chance: “…just one date… promise I…” Stepping closer.

Granger, nearly tripping over the oscillating mop in her retreat: “…it’s just that I’m not… I don’t…”

Gap-Tooth, even closer, grinning impishly, hideous teeth on full display: Something, something “…casual? You look like you could use some fun.”

Draco bristled. The audacity of this wanker.

Having had enough, he rounded the counter and stepped in between Gap-Tooth and Granger. “Did you ask her out?”

Gap-Tooth frowned, looking a little afraid. “Yeah, so?”

“Did she say yes?”

“She was just about to—”

Draco turned to Granger. “Were you about to say yes?”

“No,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She was too bloody nice for her own good.

Lucky for her, Draco wasn’t.

“There’s your answer,” said Draco, shooing Gap-Tooth towards the door. “Stop harassing her.”

Gap-Tooth looked at Granger, but she refused to look back. Disheartened, he made his way to the door.

Draco called out, “Oh, and if you bother her at Flourish and Blotts again, I’ll turn you into a rat and dump you in our lab cage.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm once Gap-Tooth was gone, but her eyes were bright with laughter. “That was so unkind.”

“Yes. And?” He waited.

She sighed as if it physically pained her to say, “Thank you.”

He grinned, pleased. Then tugged at a curl that had come loose from her clip. “And?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “And you were right.”

“And?” Draco’s stomach fluttered. He was usually so composed, but nothing about Granger made him feel ordinary.

“And…” She rose to her tiptoes and locked her hands behind his neck, parting her lips in anticipation as they met halfway. “…maybe we should start telling people about us.”

(638 words, prompt: Yes. And? from Twitter)

[lunarw0rks]

please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

[agere-fics]

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still... At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those were always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun. Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.7

The scent of spices still lingers in the air, mingling with the warm, dry breeze drifting in through the open terrace doors. The table in front of me is a landscape of wine glasses and the plates that once held Dave’s mouth-watering lemongrass chicken.

I fold my napkin and leave it by my bowl, which has been scraped so thoroughly clean that it looks like I licked it. Had I been alone, I probably would have.

“That was delicious, Dave. Best I’ve had outside Tomarang.”

Dave beams with pride. “The secret is in the red curry paste, I think I finally found the perfect mix. I hope you left room for dessert though, I’ve got more coming.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s the end of an era. I think dessert is justified.”

I nod solemnly. I recorded my last lines as Llama Man two days ago. Lee dropped by the studio with champagne to commemorate the occasion and I ended up with a hangover that still haunts me.

The fact that the show is over feels weird to think about. I’ve had many roles, but most of them were pretty minor and, most of all, temporary. They were just something I did for a little while, but I’ve been Llama Man for fifteen years and now, jarringly, I’m not.

Sierra interrupts my wallowing. “So, have you thought about what you’re going to do now?”

I shrug. “I don’t know yet. I still get a few gigs here and there for other voiceovers, but nothing steady.”

“What about finally going back to acting? On camera, I mean? It’s the perfect time, the show finale is going to get you some buzz, and my agent would love a chance to work with you, you know that.”

“Sierra, honey, it’s only been a couple of days, maybe it’s a bit soon to worry about what’s coming next?”

Sierra chews on her lip, clearly eager to keep going, but she doesn’t. She always says that Dave is her rock, the calm counterbalance to her temper. Some of my previous girlfriends didn’t like my closeness with Sierra, assumed that we used to date or at the very least slept together, but we never did. We would probably have strangled each other.

Julia was refreshing like that too, she never interrogated me about Sierra or seemed to feel threatened, she just took our friendship at face value.

Or maybe she simply didn’t care enough about you to get jealous.

Sierra gives me a sideways glance. “Fine, we can discuss it later, but how are you doing, really? I mean, the show ending is a big change on its own, but after everything with Julia…”

“I told you, Sierra, I’m fine. I knew the show was ending, it was announced last year. And Julia and I have been done for months, it was sad but I’m over it.”

“Are you, though? It’s just, you haven’t really been yourself since you broke up with her and-”

Dave rubs his forehead. “Honey, please, we talked about this. Let the man breathe.”

It has no effect. Even Dave isn’t enough to stop Sierra after three glasses of Soft Shadow Avornalino.

“I’m just trying to understand, though. You were happy, she seemed happy too, and the next thing I hear is that you dumped her? I don’t get it.”

“Sierra, can we not talk about this, please? I don’t want to go over it again, it’s complicated.”

“Again? You never went over it the first time! And you seemed to be doing so well, this is the longest I’ve seen any of your relationships last, so what went wrong?”

“Ten months isn’t that long, and since when do you care so much about Julia anyway? You were the one who was sceptical about her from the start!”

“I care about you, Paul! I was only sceptical because I was worried about whether she was, you know, right for you. I love you, you know I do, but you can be kind of a lot to deal with sometimes!”

A weary sigh from Dave finally makes Sierra pause.

“Sorry, Paul, that was uncalled for. I just wish you’d get a bit more, well, serious about your life, your career, everything.”

I don’t respond.

Dave clears his throat. “Honey, why don’t you and Paul go for some fresh air while I clean up in here and get dessert ready? The garden is really coming along.”

She looks at him gratefully. There’s a unspoken understanding between them that makes me feel strangely sad. I wonder if it’s something you develop when you’ve been together for as long as they have, or if the trick is to marry someone exactly because they can tell what you need without speaking. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I certainly wouldn’t know. Like Sierra just reminded me, I’ve never been with someone long enough to find out.

I catch myself staring at them and quickly look away. I’m not really superstitious, but all Tartosans grow up learning about malocchio, the evil eye, it’s habitual. My grandmother always said that you’re not supposed to look at someone with envy in your heart, or you might curse them, even if you don’t mean to.

Maybe I’m cursed. If anything invites envy and jealousy, it’s fame. Maybe that’s why I keep fucking things up, why I’m never satisfied. It would almost be a relief to be cursed. At least then it wouldn’t be my own damn fault.

Dave starts clearing the table, and both Sierra and I get up as well. She looks at me apologetically, but I walk outside without waiting for her, into the neatly kept garden.

It’s the height of summer, and the chorus of cicadas fills the air, a rhythmic, comforting hum that blends seamlessly with the faint sounds of water trickling from a small fountain. It’s hard to believe we’re in the desert, the entire neighbourhood is like a carefully crafted oasis, each house more exquisite than the last, all lush gardens and towering palm trees.

I sigh, looking up at the dusky sky. Behind me, the sound of gravel crunching under Sierra’s feet mixes with the soft clinking of dishes coming from inside the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Paul. Dave did tell me not to bring it up.”

“I was planning to propose to her, you know. How’s that for getting serious?”

“What?”

“Yes! Bought the ring and everything. But luckily I came to my senses before I utterly embarrassed myself.”

For the first time in all the years I’ve known her, Sierra is speechless. She simply stares at me, wide-eyed, and I realise that I must look deranged, my face contorted by grief and fury and shame, my chest heaving.

I feel a burning sensation in my nose and her face softens. She pulls me into a hug and I let her do it, like so many times before.

“For fuck’s sake, Paul.”

I hold back, not wanting to crush her under my weight, but she pulls me closer, insistently, until I relax and lean on her.

“I’m such an idiot.”

Sierra says nothing, she just rubs my back in gentle circles and I feel my anger slowly dissipate. She finally lets me go and cups my face with her hand.

“Paul, look at me. Do you regret leaving her?”

Desperately.

“No.”

The word leaves my mouth automatically. I’ve thought about Julia every single day, but each time my finger hovers over her name in my phone, I get overwhelmed by a feeling of dread I can’t quite put into words.

Admit it, you’re just afraid that she’d reject you the way you rejected her.

“Sierra, am I just meant to be alone? Is there something wrong with me?”

She snorts. “Nope, you’re perfect, that’s your whole problem. You could have anyone, you just can’t make up your mind.”

“She’s the only one I ever wanted like this.”

She shrugs. “You have a strange way of showing it, then. But if you really don’t regret it, I guess it must have been the right call.”

There’s doubt in her voice, like she knows I’m lying.

“It’s for the better, Sierra. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life yet, she needs time to figure it out.”

“Maybe she could have figured it out with you.”

I hadn’t even thought of that, but I reject the idea immediately, it’s too painful. “No. It was never going to last.”

“So you keep saying. You make it sound like you expected it to fail from the start.”

“So did you.”

“True. Sorry about that.” She leans against my shoulder.

“Careful the paps don’t see you like this, we wouldn’t want the rumours to start again.”

She chuckles. “I think they gave up on us when I married Dave.”

“They could try a new angle. I’m single again, what will I do next? I might try to add some drama to the most boring, sorry, I mean stable marriage in Del Sol Valley.”

She laughs and punches me in the shoulder, surprisingly hard.

“Watch it, Romeo. I may only be a cop on screen, but I’ve learned a lot about hiding evidence.”

I put my arm around her and for a moment we just exist, listening to the cicadas until Dave calls us back in for dessert.

beginning / previous / next

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

What's One Night With A Different Knight

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: very brief mention of abuse; not towards the reader just as an idea but besides that I think it's safe here- there's some bickering at the end but otherwise a... relatively cute fic

Genre: very much fluff

Summary: When Marc coincidentally overhears you telling your friend you might dump Jake he steps in to help

***

Jake Lockley. He's been your boyfriend for about 3 months now although at this point you're not too sure he'll keep that title much longer. It's not that Jake mistreats you or anything but, he can be cold, distant. Sometimes it feels as if he's not there even when he's with you, which honestly isn't saying much because these days he's hardly with you anyway. This thing between you, it's new, and you want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he's going through something he's not ready to share with you because of how new things are. That you can understand, and you don't necessarily want to give up on your relationship if all of this is because he's having a hard time, especially because he was so kind and charming when you met. Although, 'he was so kind when we met' is the beginning of too many stories that end with bruises, restraining orders, arrests, death. So you won't put too much weight in 'he was kind and charming when you met'. You don't want to believe that Jake would ever hurt you but you still don't know him well, and you can only ignore so many warning signs. The more you mull it over the more you think it's time to end things. You just want to figure out the best way to do so.

"El I think I'm gonna break up with him." You mutter to your friend as you walk back from dinner together, the summer nights being perfect for it.

"Jake? I thought you really liked him!"

"I do. Or- I did. These days there's not enough of him around to like. That's the problem." You sigh. "I know he has a life, I mean, so do I but the bottom line is that Lockley isn't putting in effort and I refuse to be the only one that cares in this relationship."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it?"

"Maybe. It's just that it's only been a couple of months, if he's already falling off like this so soon I mean, it seems like he can't be bothered." You shrug.

"I think you should talk to him if you see a future with him in any capacity. But I know you don't have patience for being treated like an option."

"Correct, I don't. I won't prioritize someone who won't prioritize me. I'll think about it though. I just- I'm not going to beg him to be invested in our relationship that's all."

You had no way of knowing that, coincidentally, not Jake but one who shares his body heard a good bit of this conversation. While Jake hadn't told you about his secrets, between Moonknight and his fractured mind, it didn't take Marc and Steven long to find out about you. Considering how little he fronts, it was easy for them to solve the mystery that had him showing up more often. You. They obviously didn't know you personally but they knew enough about you. Marc had particularly taken an interest in you and while Steven would never admit it, because you weren't his girlfriend, part of him liked you a little bit too. They'd both like you to stick around but Marc, unlike Steven, is willing to cross lines if it means keeping you around. Which is why the night after hearing you vent to your dear friend, he's strolling coolly to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He knocks on the door with all the confidence in the world, smiling kindly when you open the door, even when he sees the confused look on your face.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" You ask. Marc reveals the flowers from behind his back.

"Now I would've got your favorites but forgive me I'm not sure what they are. I do however know flowers and put together some that show what I feel about you. Blue salvias, morning glories, forget me nots, and a collection of carnations and camellias." Marc says.

"I'm not personally well versed in flowers so I'm not sure what any of them mean but thank you." You chuckle. "And what's up with your voice?"

"I thought it'd be fun to do an accent." He shrugs.

"Oh? Should I do one too?"

"Nah, I love your voice too much." He winks.

"How cute. Did you, really come all this way just to drop off some flowers though?" You ask.

"No. So you'll have to look up their meanings later, I'm actually hoping you can spare a couple hours of your evening for a date. I thought I'd surprise you."

"A date? I'm hardly dressed for a date."

"Well you could wear a paper bag and still be the most gorgeous person in any room we entered, but I'm a patient man, go ahead and get ready. I'll wait."

"Give me 15 minutes." You say ushering him into your apartment.

"Take your time mi amor." Marc says, throwing the endearment in to appear more like Jake.

Marc??? Where are we? Marc sighs at the voice in his head, he'd hoped that both alters would be blocked for most of the evening.

"Jake babe, where are we going?" You call down the hall.

"It's a surprise princessa!" 

"I mean I know, I really just need the dress code."

"Casual is fine, although you'd look perfect in anything."

"So charming this evening." You muse.

JAKE'S GIRLFRIEND?! THAT IS JAKE'S GIRLFRIEND MARC!

Marc rushes into the bathroom and turns on the faucet, glaring at the mirror.

"Yes I know who it is Steven thank you."

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!

"I'm thinking that Jake is about to lose her and I have no interest in letting that happen."

So what's your plan?! To tell her the truth about us?

"No! At least, not tonight. Tonight is just about showing her what she deserves."

That is absolutely mad. Not to mention a betrayal of trust, both hers and Jake's. She thinks you're someone else Marc.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point."

So you're just going to pretend to be him indefinitely?

"No, she's this close to breaking up with Jake so- I'm proving he's not a shit partner."

Right, so that when he fails to deliver after this she'll dump him quicker.

"I'm trying to save their relationship not ruin it!"

You realize if Jake ever tells her about us and she finds out about this she will probably be pissed off

"That's fine because if I don't do this they probably won't even last long enough for Jake to tell her about us."

You've lost your mind Marc, you cannot pretend to be Jake anymore than you could pretend to be me or I could pretend to be either of you

"For a couple of hours, I absolutely can actually."

"Jake? Where'd you go?" Your voice halts their conversation and Marc turns off the sink, swinging open the bathroom door to greet you with a smile.

"Apologies hermosa, I'm here." He says.

"Well, let's go on this surprise date of yours." You say  You've put on a pair of jeans and a mesh sweater over a crop top for the evening, something comfortable but cute since you still don't know where you're going.

"Yes, let's." Marc offers his arm to you and you loop yours through it as you exit your apartment.

"Will you tell me where we're heading now?" You ask him while he leads you through the streets of town.

"I will not, but I'm sure you'll guess before we get there." He says.

"How on earth would I be able to guess before we get there?" You frown.

"Listen closely amor." He says and you allow yourself to take in the sounds of summer evenings. There are people talking, and walking, everywhere, but after a moment you hear faint music, not like the kind playing in restaurants that you pass. It's- carnival music? You can hear the sounds of laughter and screams and the almost obnoxious chimes carnival games are known for and just as you piece it together you just barely pick up the smell of overpriced fair food.

"Are we going to a carnival?" You ask with an excited gasp and though Marc doesn't answer he smiles in a way that tells you you've guessed correctly. Just then you turn a corner and are suddenly met with so many bright lights you're tempted to close your eyes for a moment.

"Surprise." Marc says quietly as you approach.

"I didn't even know there was a carnival in town! This is so cool!" You say beaming at him.

"I thought you'd like it." He smiles softly.

"I love it. Thank you." You tell him.

"Anything for you." He says and he means that. He's not sure Jake would say it but- he feels that way. In this moment, watching you take in the carnival with childlike wonder. He would do anything for you. He's sure of it.

"What should we do first?!" You ask him excitedly.

"Whatever you want, it's your surprise. We can do it all, ride every ride, play every game, eat everything from every stall, win every prize they've got, we can just walk around, we can ride the same ride a hundred times if you want. I'll do whatever makes you happiest." Marc says and you smile so sweetly he's sure his heart is fit to fly out of his chest and into your hands.

"Let's start with the swing carousel." You say pointing out the ride.

"Of course." He nods leading you both to the line. He's quiet as you make your way to the front and onto the ride but he holds your hand even after you're sat in your swings waiting for the ride to start. After a few moments, the ride lifts into the air and begins spinning in large circles, taking all of you with it. Marc watches you as you happily look around at the rest of the carnival from the vantage point this ride gives you. There's a childlike wonder to your happiness that when he's looking at you he feels at peace like every problem he's ever had is dissolving. It's a feeling he wants to hold onto. When the ride ends you and Marc take turns picking what order to hit the others in. Honestly, he'd let you decide every step he takes if you wanted to, but you insist that he have some say in the evening.

"I didn't take you for the carnival type Jake." You say after you've ridden most everything there is to ride here. The use of Jake's name is like a bucket of cold water in Marc's face and he has to remind himself not to react outwardly.

"I don't know that I'd say I am actually but I am the make you happy type, cariño." Marc says kissing your cheek.

"You're so cute tonight." You giggle. "We have to ride the ferris wheel before we go." You point at the large brightly lit up wheel.

"Alright but before that let's play one of these games, yeah? Tell me what prize you want and I'll win it for you." Marc says.

"You don't have to do that Jake." You shake your head.

"I want to. Go on, pick a prize." Marc tells you. You look at the different games around the carnival and your eyes eventually catch on a stuffed raccoon. It's big with blue eyes and paws and ears and feet and it's hanging over one of those impossible ringtoss games.

"Do you think you could win one of those raccoon toys?" You ask, pointing at it.

"Easy." He nods.

"Well the bottle ring toss is notoriously hard usually. Don't take it too seriously." You tell him as he walks up to the booth with you.

"Trust me princessa, I've got this." Marc winks at you before buying his rings from the attendant who looks extremely bored.

"Alright." You laugh.

"Watch this." He turns slightly to the side and tosses the rings in rapid succession, making every throw with surprising accuracy.

"Wow." You say.

"Told you it'd be easy." Marc says throwing his arm around you. He points at the stuffed raccoon you wanted and the game attendant pulls it down with a shocked congratulations.

"Thank you Jake." You say kissing his cheek.

"Of course amor. To the Ferris wheel now, yes?"

"Yes! Let's go!" You smile, clutching the raccoon closely. Your Ferris wheel ride is peacefully quiet and when you eventually return to the ground, Marc walks you back to your apartment. You chat idly as you walk, catching up about how you've been since you last saw each other and before you know it, you're at your apartment door.

"I had an amazing time tonight." Marc says.

"Me too. I dunno what's up with you tonight but, I like you like this." You say with a small smile.

"Yeah? Me too." He smiles. You place a hand on his shoulder to lean up and kiss his cheek shyly.

"Text when you get home, okay?" You say.

"Of course amor." He nods.

"Goodnight Jake." You say softly.

"Goodnight mi vida." He breathes out as you step into your apartment. You almost don't want to close your door because it means the night is over but you do and Marc leaves, whistling happily to himself as he was back to their flat. It's not until he makes it all the way back that a voice rings in his head.

If we didn't share a body hermano I would kill you right now.

Marc looks at the nearest reflective surface to see Jake glaring at him.

That was my girlfriend! What the hell are you doing?!

"Hey, if not for what I did tonight she'd probably be your ex girlfriend by morning. She was ready to dump you just the other night. You should be thanking me." Marc says.

Marc, that's Jake's life. It's not your place to meddle, we agreed to let each other have our things. You overstepped seriously. 

This time it's Steven who steps in, gentle but scolding.

"I just saved his relationship. That girl deserves better, all I did was show it to her."

Not only have you fundamentally destroyed the trust of their relationship but you've set an expectation you don't even know if Jake can maintain! At best you've strung her along and at worst you have to maintain this lie which can only lead to a million other problems because when you eventually start to care for her and hearing her call you Jake starts driving you crazy and you're tempted to tell her the truth you won't be able to because at that point you'll be in so deep that she'll never speak to either of you again if you do tell her.

"I gave her exactly what kind of relationship she should have, now Jake either has to step up or lose her for good."

And when he doesn't fill this weird bar you've set up because he's not you, then what? Because she was about to dump him until you stepped in, right? 

First of all who said I couldn't fill it?!

"If you can be that for her why haven't you?"

It's none of your business Marc

Case in point. He's not gonna do what you did. You've just created this unnecessary contradicting person for her and there was literally no reason for that.

"Whatever, she deserved a nice night."

You're ignoring the part where she is MY girlfriend and you had no right to take her out! Just because she doesn't know there's more than one of us doesn't mean it's okay to take advantage of that!

"If she's your girlfriend. Treat her well and we won't have this problem."

The only problem is you meddling

"God you two are such nags. I saved your relationship tonight Jake. I won't apologize for it because you're lucky you can still call her your girlfriend right now." Marc rolls his eyes and walks away from the mirror and their conversation. Yeah maybe he should've left well enough alone but you deserve nice things and even if it means you leave Jake for not being enough, at least you should know that someone will give you everything you deserve.

Meanwhile, after you've showered and changed you look up the meaning of those flowers he brought you, the blue salvias mean 'I think of you', and morning glories mean 'affection', forget me nots are self explanatory, the different colored carnations mean everything from my heart aches to I'll never forget you and the various camellias have meanings of longing and other dramatic declarations of love, at least according to a website you found. It's a very thoughtful collection of flowers, more emotionally expressive than Jake has been for most of your relationship but it's something that warms your heart as you lay in bed thinking about your date. An absolutely perfect date.

***

[obsidiancreates]

The Smartest Dumb Person She's Ever Met (Shules Shawn Genius Reveal Fic)

“Shawn, this is ridiculous.” Even as she says it, Jules knows her smile completely undercuts her protests as Shawn sets out more and more and more plates of food.

“Babe, I told you, we are finding our new go-to takeout spot tonight,” Shawn insists. “We’ll just dump all the leftovers on Gus! He’ll love it, maybe even more than he loves watching debates about rash cream side-effects.”

“I don’t think he loves watching those, Shawn.”

“Then why does he spend hours on it every few months?”

“Well, maybe, because he has a day job. We’re not all so lucky to be employed by spirits and whims,” Jules teases lightheartedly as Shawn sits down and starts putting together a sampler plate. “Speaking of which, we didn’t talk about what I should expect from living with a psychic.”

“Aside from constant swooning and daily hair updates?”

“Aside from those.”

“Well, Jules, I’m afraid I can’t tell you what to expect, because I don’t know either.” Shawn hands her the plate, and sniffs. “Truth be told, this is uh… this is the first time I’ve moved in with somebody.”

Jules smiles softer. “Mine too. But I just mean… how often do you have visions outside of cases? And what about your dreams, are those affected?”

“No, not as far as I know- but I have been told I talk in my sleep.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know me.” He kisses her before dishing up his own plate. “But uh, yeah, no psychic vision dreams for the most part.. … Well, sometimes, but not usually. And I can control the visions at home, don’t even worry another second about it.”

“Really? Because I thought you were completely beholden to them at all times.”

“Ehhhh… more or less.”

“Shawn.”

“Alright, so maybe a minor one here and there- but I’ll save the big stuff for the cases. No dramatic psych-outs in the living room.”

“Thank you.” Jules takes a bite of one of the various dishes on her plate, and coughs. “Oh my god, they used so much black pepper!”

“Let me try- hck! Oh my- ekch! That is just stupid, how much there is-”

“Get some water-”

“On it, on it, holy-”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn doesn’t have psychic visions or dreams, just like he promised.

But he has something else going on.

Jules starts noticing it after the first few days of lovey-dovey, disgustingly happy mushiness finally starts to settle into domesticity. She sits at the table and Shawn has a big stack of toaster waffles already drenched in syrup ready for both of them, even though he’s not a natural early riser, because it’s a day they both have off and it’s more Brunch than Lunch, and Shawn… isn’t eating.

His head is tilted, his eyes narrowed, and that usually means he’s having a vision. But this morning he’s just barely reading the newspaper- Jules is sure he’s not actually reading it, his eyes aren’t moving right for that, in fact they’re barely moving at all. They’re narrows and still, taking the paper in as one whole picture, probably absorbing nothing.

And she starts to realize he gets that look a lot, with no visions following them. He gets it when the delivery guy drops off their food, he gets it when the news comes on, he gets it when Lassiter comes over to drop off something Jules left in his car during a stakeout, and again and again and again.

And then it just goes away, and he doesn’t say anything. And she assumes, well, it’s a minor vision. He has them a lot more often than she had previously thought, clearly. Small, apparently unimportant visions that he just brushes off.

And then he tells her that they should stop getting takeout from the place two blocks away because the delivery guy is about to quit from being overworked. There’s no fanfare, no hand to his head, no sharp inhale- just an offhand statement that slips out right after he closes the front door.

It’s not the first time she’s heard him make a random prediction, not even close. But something about the understated nature of it makes her pause, and after a second she asks, “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve seen the state of that car they have him driving, it's one rough road away from falling to pieces. Plus his shoes are completely tattered, and his jeans, basically everything that’s not given to him as part of the uniform, but they’re also all stiff still- he just bought them and they’re already wrecked because of how many deliveries he’s making. That’d piss anyone off enough to quit, especially at his age.”

She hadn’t noticed that- at least, not all of it. She knew the car was a piece of junk, and the clothes were tattered, but thinking back she sees what Shawn means by them still looking stiff and out-of-the-box new. And somehow, somehow, she feels like if she points out that she hadn’t caught onto all of that herself, something… big, would just… slip away.

“That’s a shame, I like him,” is all she says instead. “He has a nice smile.”

“He just got his braces off, he’d probably literally skip for joy if he heard you say that,” Shawn says, handing over her food. Again, no fanfare, no theatrics- he just says it, unthinkingly, almost distracted as he digs into his honey cashew shrimp and chicken. 

It’s different. 

It has to be a vision, but it’s different. 

And again, Jules gets a feeling that pointing that out would break… something, about this moment. So she makes a note, and tucks it away in her mind, and hopes she’s able to remember to follow up later.

“Good for him.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn talks in his sleep most nights, as it turns out. 

It’s not very comprehensible majority of the time- usually all she can make out, when she’s even awake to hear it, is Shawn mumbling something to or about Gus. At first it’s a little offensive, frankly, that her boyfriend dreams about his best friend constantly and she never hears her own name, but it quickly becomes just… normal. Like most of Shawn and Gus’s codependency. Some days she feels like she’s dating both of them, just a little bit. It bothers her less than it probably should, certainly less than she would expect if she was an outside observer. Gus was Shawn’s original rock, his strongest pillar, his tightest tether, and she knew she’d never truly be able to match that even before she and Shawn got together. 

She should probably ask Gus about some of Shawn’s more daily psychic dealings, actually- he’s known Shawn for their whole loves, so he must have lots of advice for her about how to deal with it. And how to deal with the rest of Shawn’s… quirks. Which she loves about him, she truly does, as messy and intrusive as some of those quirks are in their lives. Psychic visions, murder scene dates, fearing that Shawn’s going to get himself killed with his daily recklessness. She had kissed him on that Canadian overlook expecting all of it, thinking she had finally come to learn everything she needed to learn about him.

And then, all those months and years later, she’s laying in bed unable to sleep and reading a book to try and calm down when Shawn mumbles out something shockingly understandable about the case they’re both working.

She freezes, as though her silent eye movements while reading could somehow disturb the moment.

“Doesn’ ma’ s’nse,” Shawn mumbles in his sleep. “Th’ t’re tr’cks…”

Jules slowly lowers her book.

Shawn rolls over, facing her now, still fast asleep, lightly snoring. Jules watches him like a deer caught in headlights.

“T’res don’ ma’ch,” Shawn mumbles out. “Tr’d too w’de…” His brow pinches, his lips pursing a little. There’s a long beat of silence.

Jules holds her breath. Like with the delivery boy, something about this moment just feels… big. Important.

Shawn’s face smooths out. “M’gn’ts.”

Magnets. 

Jules thinks about the case that they’ve been working together all week, a hit-and-run. They’ve got one witness who got a whole license plate number, they’ve got the plate number matching a car of that exact description, and the only problem is they’ve also got  a suspect who vehemently denies ever driving that route in his entire life. And like always when things seem straightforward, Shawn had declared that he wasn’t convinced they had the right guy. 

But that doesn’t help her figure out what magnets have to do with anything. After a moment she doesn’t have to figure it out on her own, because Shawn makes a soft noise of sleep-laden realization.

“Th’ s’x an’ th’ n’ne.” His hand twitches, roughly tracing out the numbers on the sheets. “Fl’p ‘em…”

Magnets. 

License plate number magnets. Moveable, alterable plate numbers.

“S’me car m’ke, s’me num’er, diff’ren’ t’re.” There’s a note of satisfaction, even in the sleep-slurred mess that is Shawn’s voice. He smiles a little in his sleep, and moments later… he’s snoring.

Jules sits, book almost falling out of her nonexistent grip, stunned into silence.

Shawn just cracked the case. In his sleep. With logic and authentic detective deduction. 

… But that’s not possible.

Shawn doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t pay attention to clues, reason out possibilities, connect dots. He receives visions, he relays them, he makes connections with the help of his abilities. And maybe she’s seen some times that contradict tha belief, but- but it’s just not how he works. She would know.

… Maybe he does get psychic dreams. Maybe he just doesn’t know he gets them? But there was a thought process there, and a natural one for it to come to him so easily in sleep. She’d heard every step of the process, followed him on each conclusion.

… But the tire treads not matching? Jules relaxes, closing her book and turning off the lamp. That had to be psychic. No-one else noticed or said anything about tire treads through the investigation. How would he even pick out and remember that detail, anyway, without spiritual guidance? He’d seen only photos of the crime scene, and not great ones at that- darn trainees.

… Psychic dreams. Has to be.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jules, look at that.” Shawn smiles and points at the ducks in the pond they’re having a picnic by. “There’s a bunch of baby ducks over there.”

Jules gasps and looks over eagerly, but quickly frowns. “Where?”

“Right there, in those tall hot-dog looking things.”

“Um, the reeds?”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

Jules squints, searching for signs of ducklings. “Where are you seeing them?”

“Right there, look.” Shawn leans and points harder , like that will help somehow. “You can totally see the hotdogs moving.”

“I think that’s just the wind.”

“No, look, the moms are circling the hot dogs and luring the feeders over to them.”

“What?” Jules looks at the edges of the pond now, and realizes that, yes, the ducks are luring the people with the food towards the reeds- and finally, the ducklings swim out into view.

“Told ya.” Shawn takes a bite of an eclair. 

“How did you even see that movement from here?” Jules looks back at Shawn in awe. 

“You kidding? They were totally moving all over.”

“But it looked like the wind.”

“The wind is blowing the total opposite direction. Look, you can see it in the ripples.”

“Huh.” Jules looks back at the pond. “That’s really impressive, Shawn. I had no idea your eyesight was that good.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been asked to be studied by science for my eyesight, but they said it would drain all the color out of them, and then of course I’d have to become a supervillain.”

“Or a mysterious warning corpse in the basement of a haunted mansion.”

“Neither of which I felt up for.”

“Right.” Jules giggles, and looks back at the pond. 

She has no idea how he noticed that. Not unless it was psychic, somehow. And further, she has no idea why he’s acting like she should be able to notice it, too. And, like before with the delivery boy, it’s not the first time he’s done this. But it’s the first time it feels…

Like something she needs to pay attention to.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn?” Jules sets down the bowl of brownie batter when she realizes he’s stopped licking the spoon and is staring, eyes glazed, at the wall. It’s probably just a vision. She should just consider it a vision. There’s no real reason to think it’s not.

“Shawn,” she tries again, shaking his arm slightly. He startles, just a bit, and then clears his throat and puts the licked-”clean” spoon down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes flick back to the wall. “... Jules, uh, does the wall look…” He pouts a little, shrugging. “Suspicious, to you?”

“Suspicious?” She looks at the same spot. “It’s… a wall.”

“Yeah… but there’s something a little off, isn’t there?” Shawn walks over to it, and taps his knuckles against the plaster. “... Sounds off, actually. Come here, listen.”

She obliges, leaning in close. Shawn taps one spot on the wall, and then the spot he said sounded strange.

“... What am I supposed to be hearing, Shawn?”

“It’s more hollow over here.” Shawn taps the first spot, and then taps the second. “Right here, it sounds more uh… almost like wet cardboard.”

She listens again. “Okay… I think I hear it now. But you didn’t hear the wall from over at the counter, did you? Was it a vision?”

“There’s a ring around this spot,” Shawn mumbles, like he didn’t hear her. He smacks his lips, and then jerks away from the wall as the focus suddenly drops away into his usual energy. “Man, we’ve got a leak in the walls! I knew that landlord was lying when he said it was all up to code.”

“A leak? Shawn, we tapped the wall a little bit, that doesn’t really tell us anything.”

“Yeah, maybe… but I’m calling someone, tomorrow, just- remind me in the morning.” His eyebrows twitch up, his mouth forming an ‘O’ as he realizes something. “If I play this card right I might be able to knock a bit off our rent.”

“Shawn, you are not blackmailing our landlord over a leak that might not even exist.”

“I’m not! Not yet! Just planning to, possibly. So we can have more money for date nights!”

“It’s illegal.”

“Alright, alright. …How illegal, exactly?”

“Shawn.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s trickery. It’s lying. It’s wrong.

But she had been sitting at her desk, reviewing the latest round of new Detective’s Exam scores, when she’d remembered Shawn saying years ago that he had taken the exam when he was 15, and got 100.

A perfect score.

And maybe that meant very little to her once, when Shawn was just the strange somewhat charming guy who came into her life only on occasion to make a case more interesting. But now, dating Shawn and seriously considering spending the rest of her life with him, now as soon as she had recalled that tidbit it began to haunt her. Every time she watched Shawn around the house, and even in the station. It echoed in her head while she watched him look over reports, scan crime scenes, even while he was just watching movies and predicting things about their endings. 

I got 100. … Why? What did you guys get?

He hadn’t even been bragging. 

So now she sits on the couch, a thick binder in front of her, guilt twisting in her stomach at what she’s about to do. 

She’s about to lie to her boyfriend, with the full intent of tricking him into the taking the exam again, just to see.

When he walks into the house, slightly out of breath and carrying something that looks suspiciously like the pineapple statue put into evidence during the last case, he startles upon seeing her and hides the statue behind his back. But his excuse dies in his gaping mouth when he sees how stressed she looks.

“Babe? Everything okay?” He sets the statue- it’s definitely the same one put into evidence- aside as he moves to sit next to her.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Just- Chief Vick asked me to help review the Detective’s Exam after someone complained there were errors in it.”

“Hmm. That person should either pass immediately, or be barred from detective status forever.”

She giggles softly. “That’s a little extreme. It’s just, this is going to take forever, and I was hoping to go out today and finally try that spa that opened up.”

“Well you totally should!” Shawn looks at the binder. “Just, leave it for another time, it can’t be that pressing. After all, Santa Barbara already has it’s best detective.”

She rolls her eyes fondly.

“And, she just so happens to be dating an equally awesome but more brunette psychic detective.” He kisses her on the cheek. “So she should go out and treat herself while her awesome boyfriend tries to divine if there’s actually a mistake.”

“Oh, the spirits know that kind of thing?”

“Some of them, some of them.”

“Well, let them know I’ll still have to check their work, so they better show it.” She gives him a kiss back and stands. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The guilt gnaws at her as she drives to the spa, as she picks her treatment, as she gets her facial and her massage and her body scrub. She knows she had to- she knows Shawn well enough to know he’d never retake the exam if she just asked him outright. He’d be suspicious why she was asking him to, and she’s not sure she can tell him without making him think she’s doubting him.

She’s not. He is psychic. 

But he might also be more.

And if he is, he’s hiding it- maybe not as much as he did when she would only see him at the station, or planned dates, but he’s still hiding it. She sees him seeing things, noticing details, making connections, and when he does he never seems to…

She’s not sure. She just knows that he treats these moments like they’re something a normal person can do when they can’t, or like they aren’t happening at all, or even…

Even like they’re psychic.

She takes the long way home, breathing deeply the whole time. Shawn lies to her every day- she’s not blind to that. Usually about a case, usually because he’s more than likely doing something she could get reprimanded for just knowing about. She doesn’t like it, but even though he lies he doesn’t trick her, at least as far as she knows. 

When she gets home, Shawn isn’t there. She finds a note on the coffee table, stuck to the binder. Gus called, be back soon, XOXO.

She smiles, takes a deep breath, and opens the binder.

There’s mostly Doodles. His artistic skill on display ranges from shockingly masterful to shockingly kindergarten-like, some doodles belonging in a gallery and some not even qualifying for the fridge under a free pizza place magnet. Aliens, dinosaurs, scenes from movies, random invention ideas…

No answers, at first, which disappoints her. Until she notices that one doodle seems to coordinate to one of the questions, and it’s like a Rosetta Stone.

Not all, but many of the doodles seem to relate to the answer to a question in some way, and where there’s not doodles there’s not-answers that show knowledge of the actual answer. There’s snark and quips and jokes that contain answers, and every once and a while she even finds something straightforward smushed among the almost deflective content of the pages.

Deflective.

He’s deflecting that he knows the answers. The more she flips through, the more she sees it. Shawn went out of his way to answer without answering, to show his knowledge without admitting he has it. He couldn’t just not answer, and he couldn’t just pretend not to know- but he couldn’t outright show it either.

“Oh my god.” Jules closes the binder and puts her face in her hands. “Of course. Henry.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules finds Henry’s detective’s exam score a week later. It’s high- not perfect, but high. She finds Shawn’s score to compare. Like he’d said. It was perfect.

She goes digging through the file archives on her lunch break, and finds the actual exam itself- someone preserved it, because a fifteen year old got 100.

It’s not like the one Shawn did in their living room.

It’s still got doodles, tangents, signs of distractibility- but the answers are much more plain. Forthright. It reads like an actual potential detective, taking the exam seriously, trying his best.

And she’s pretty sure she knows who gave Shawn that exam.

Of course, of course. His dad was a cop, a revered one, of course Henry taught Shawn some skills- more than some! How did that never occur to her? It feels silly now, to think Shawn wouldn’t have at the very least picked up a few tricks of the trade, even if Henry hadn’t taught Shawn outright.

She puts the file back, smiling and satisfied with knowing she was right and Shawn does have genuine, non-psychic detective skills like she’d suspected.

… The smile fades when she starts to wonder why he pretends he doesn’t.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Carlton, can I ask you about something?”

Lassiter looks up from his paperwork and sets his pen aside. “Anything to save me from the banality of filling another report out.”

“You… met Shawn’s mom, right?”

Lassiter’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes going a little wide. “This isn’t anything about you and Spencer’s… relationship progress, is it?”

“What? … Oh, god, no! No, I’m not looking to propose or anything.”

He sags (well, relatively- Lassiter never truly sags or loosens up) with relief. “In that case, yes, she did my last psych eval.”

“Right. And you-you talked with her a lot?”

“As much as was required by the situation.”

“Was she… like Shawn, at all? It’s just that, well, even though she’s been in town three times now, I’ve never actually talked with her beyond some passing comments.” She’s barely involved with Shawn’s life- if Jules didn’t know how absent Madaline is from her son’s existence prior to dating, she’d have assumed Shawn’s mom hated her by how little they’ve actually interacted.

Lassiter thinks for a moment, looking out into the bullpen, and then looks down and picks his pen back up. “Not really, no. Closest she came was recognizing the Clint Eastwood movies I was telling her stories from. She was generally professional, somewhat soft-spoken, and somehow got me to open up without even half of the pressing nature of her son.”

Jules nods. “Did she… mention Shawn at all?”

“Only at the end, after I shared my innermost thoughts. … You know, I take it back. That was the most Spencer -like thing she did during our sessions.”

“Huh.” Jules looks down at her own paperwork. That answers nothing about why Shawn is pretending he isn’t a good detective. It can’t be his dad, Henry would be much softer and more proud if Shawn showed off that skillset, surely. Madaline seemed like a good lead…

“She was weird, though. Outside of the relation to Spencer. She didn’t even record our sessions, she claimed to have… dammit.” Lassiter frowns as he tries to remember. “Something about being able to remember everything she hears with almost perfect accuracy.”

Jules’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I thought she was bullcrapping, but I got ahold of the file and didn’t actually find any errors in the quotes she included- she must’ve tapped the room or something.”

“Carlton, go back. Perfect memory? Shawn’s mom?”

“See, I believed her about it until I learned that. With Henry’s recall, and a mom with perfect memory for sounds, there’s no way Spencer should be as airheaded as he is. Not unless his brain short-circuited from overwhelming competency it just wasn’t built for.”

“Oh my god.” Jules puts her face in her hands. “Carlton, what if that’s exactly what it is?”

“What? What are you on about?”

“Nothing, just- it’s nothing.” She fixes her ponytail and then stands up. “I’m taking my lunch break, I’ll bring you back a coffee.”

“Uh, and a danish.”

“And a danish.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry swings the door open with a readied scowl, but it drops away when he sees it’s Jules standing on his porch. “Oh, Detective O’Hara.”

“I’m here on a personal matter, actually.” Jules smiles a bit. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, sure, come on in.” Henry steps aside. “I actually just grilled up a catch from this morning, if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you, that sounds great.”

Minutes later they’re both sitting at the table, Jules sees a little carving in the top of the old piece of furniture, a shaky scratching of Shawn and Gus Club right by her elbow. It makes her smile.

“So, ah, what is this about?” Henry gestures at her with his fork. “Shawn’s treating you right, isn’t he?”

“We’re great,” she assures. “I just wanted to ask a few questions about Shawn’s gift.”

Henry leans his head to the side, frowning. “I uh, can’t really help you there, Juliet.”

“Not the psychic one.”

Henry pauses, his frown deepening. He looks up at her with something… unreadable, in his eyes. “How do you mean?”

“I’m not doubting him,” Jules rushes to reassure, and it does seem to loosen something in Henry’s twisted expression, but not by much. “I just… I’ve always known Shawn was a little smarter than he let on, you know? But I’ve had reason to believe, since we moved in together, that it’s much more extreme of a mask than I thought.”

Henry puts his fork down entirely. “What’d he do?”

“Just… little things, that I used to think were maybe minor visions or feelings, but sometimes… sometimes he just says things that blow my mind. He notices way more little details than he used to let on, for example, and then today Carlton mentioned that his mom has an um…” She take sout her phone to look it up again.

“Eidetic tonal memory,” Henry fills in before she can even begin typing. “She does. I have a visual one.”

Jules looks at him, quickly tucking her phone away. “And then Carlton said that maybe Shawn struggled with handling that- well, he didn’t say it in those exact words-”

“Shawn does not struggle with his memory, except for when he wants to.” Henry’s mouth is puckered, like he’s eating a lemon dipped in sour dust. “You’re saying you think he’s faking visions.”

“Not all of them.” That’s just not possible, with everything he figures out. “But some of them, and I just- I just can’t figure out why he would fake them for some of the things he does. I mean, the other night he talked in his sleep and basically walked me through his process step-by step by accident, and then the next day he came into the station and pretended it just came to him when he reexamined the scene photos.”

“Shawn has always had an overenthusiasm for drama,” Henry starts, speaking quickly and with heavy exasperation. “He likes things to be public and dramatic as much as possible, especially when it’s an embarrassment to himself and to me.”

“That’s a little harsh, I think.”

“Trust me, it isn’t. Shawn has never wanted to embrace his full potential, Juliet- yes, he has both a visual and tonal eidetic memory, and on top of that I trained him to be a detective for his entire life. I knew, I knew he had the ability to be the best detective this department has ever seen, if he just-!” Henry stops himself and rubs one hand over his head. “But he likes living in a fantasy more. He likes slacking off, and refusing to apply himself, and avoiding responsibility, so he… indulged his psychicness, over his actual detective skills.”

“... I’m not sure he has,” Jules says carefully, watching for Henry’s reaction with a readiness to run. 

Henry laughs a little, bitterly, and looks up. “He’s not a real detective, Juliet. No matter how much I want him to be, or how much he insists he is.”

“Just because he’s not on the force, it doesn’t mean he’s not a detective.” 

“It might as well.”

“... You should be proud of your son, Henry. He’s helped solved a lot of cases we’d have had to let go cold without him.”

“I am proud.” He says it quickly, defensively- but not inauthentically. It occurs to Jules that this is the first time she’s heard Henry declade Pride in Shawn, in all seven years she’s known them both. “I am. Just not of his methods.”

“... Well, um, thank you, for the food, and-and the information.” Jules stands up. She’s starting to form a new theory about why Shawn hides his skills. “Do me a favor and, don’t tell Shawn about this? I just don’t want him to feel weird that I’m, well… investigating him.”

Henry shrugs and pretends to zip his mouth and throw away the key.

“Thanks.” She gives him a smile that has to be forced out, and leaves.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well I bet you can’t quote every line from The Breakfast Club without looking it up.” They’re playing a game of low-stakes wagers while they make baked mac ‘n cheese for dinner, and Shawn is losing badly- mostly because he’s only making bets that have Jules showing off her best skills.

Shawn looks at her, genuinely offended, before it smooths out into acceptance. “You’re right, I can’t. Not unless I’m given a big buzzing button, to replace the slurs.”

Jules nods. “Fair. How about you just point to me and I’ll make the noise for you?”

“Now that is a plan.”

She feels bad about tricking him again. She does. But she watches him run through the whole movie script, doing the dances, dramatically flailing around the room- and she sees something she’d been completely overlooking for years. 

She laughs as he finishes it off, sweating and panting but grinning at her. “How do you remember all of that but the other day you couldn’t tell me if you’d even locked the front door?”

Well I remember important things, Jules.”

“Home security is important, Shawn.”

“When you’re not a detective dating a psychic, maybe.”

“Ha-ha. I’d still rather not come home from a date to our TV missing.”

“... True. Fair. I’ll work on it.”

“Seriously though, Shawn, sometimes your memory makes no sense to me. Do you think ADHD medication would help with some of the… little details?”

“Uh, no.” Shawn shakes his head. “No can do, tried it once and swore it off forever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it uh… stuff filtered in but didn’t filter out, you know? Like Gus at a buffet.”

“Gross.”

“It was, it was gross. Both the meds and the buffet.”

“I can’t imagine. It would be awful, just… being unable to stop things sticking around in your head.” She watches him from the corner of her eye as she pulls the dish out of the oven.

Shawn’s posture tenses a little. His mouth parts and the tip of his tongue comes to touch the middle of his top lip. He shrugs, and nods. “Yeah. What a-” he interrupts himself with a chuckle that Jules can only tell is bitter and nervous because of how long she’s known him. “What a sucky thing that’d be!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn, this is too much,” Jules says as he leads her, his hands covering her eyes, somewhere for a date. 

“Are you kidding? You saved my life on this case, again, and you totally prevented a huge disaster with getting the detonator away from that guy.”

“And you are the one who noticed he had a detonator in the first place.”

“The spirits noticed, Jules. But I will take credit for this.” He moves his hands away from her eyes, and she gasps.

They’re in some kind of outdoor dining area, an archway of flowering vines set up above a table covered with a floral cloth and light-blue chinaware. As Shawn comes around to her line of vision she sees he’d hidden a nice suit under his usual jacket when he first told her he had a surprise planned, and his tie…

“Shawn, are you recreating the play?” It had been a particularly great date, for a variety of reasons- but mostly, because Shawn had actually managed to sit down, watch the play, and not turn it into a criminal investigation. He’d still kept up a running commentary and restless fidgeting of course- Jules would have been worried if he hadn’t- but otherwise it had been proof to her that he could take this seriously.

“Maybe.” He offers her his hand and leads her to the table. 

“Shawn, these plates are exactly like the ones from the date scene, how did you-”

“I may or may not have, solved a little case for the owner of the theatre and taken payment in the form of old props.”

Jules laughs, picking up the menu on the table. “Is this the actual menus too, then?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I think Gus- I mean, I, recreated them pretty well.”

“Mmm. Let me guess, you ‘managed’ the recreation, and Gus did the work on it?”

“I also turned on the printer.”

“Basically did the whole thing yourself.” She looks over the menu again- it had been held up briefly during the play, a larger version of it shown on a projection screen behind the actors, and she wouldn’t have remembered it if asked before this moment but now, seeing the recreation, she’s almost certain it’s exact.

It had been on stage for maybe one minute, maybe less.

“How did you even remember this?”

“Psychic recreation, Jules. I traveled back to the past in ethereal form. Your future self was there too- clearly, my gifts rub off on you fifty years from now.”

She laughs again, softer. He’s lying of course- he likes to lie for the humor, and the fun, and because no-one can truly call him out on his powers because even he doesn’t understand them as he often admits. But it feels different now.

He’s not lying entirely for fun. Partly for fun, sure- but he remembered the play, he remembered the menu, because he has an eidetic memory and can’t forget things and in the days since she spoke with Henry to confirm it that fact has been haunting her.

She has trouble sleeping some nights- it’s gotten better since Shawn moved in, having someone curled around her making sleep feel safer- because of the things she’s seen, experienced, endured. She still has nightmares about the clocktower, about sitting in a hospital bed waiting to hear if she has Thornburg, about desperately hunting down clues to Shawn’s whereabouts with Gus and having no idea if they’d even find him alive by the end. The images, the emotions, the sounds… they all stick with her, forgotten until the moment they strike.

What is that like for someone with Shawn’s memory? If her memories push in unwanted, what about his? The looks into the distance, the glaze over his eyes right before he reveals something, the visceral reactions when he remembers something he doesn’t like- it breaks her heart now, knowing that at least some of those are because his mind shoves near-perfect flashbacks at him. 

And with observation, she’s realized that it’s usually unwanted and not sought out- just like his visions. It’s hard to tell them apart from the outside, which just makes her even more concerned- does he even know the difference most of the time? Does it affect all of his thoughts, his imagination, the way he fills in blanks? Is that why sometimes his “visions” are so wrong, because he’s so used to them working the same way as the rest of his mind that he can’t tell what’s Him and what’s The Spirits?

“Hey.” She’s jolted out of her spiraling thoughts by Shawn reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Are you okay?”

She plasters on a smile. “Fine. Just- thinking about how lucky we are. To be here, after everything we’ve gone through.”

Shawn smiles back and pats her hand once before withdrawing his. “Lucky, or just awesome and unstoppable as a team? You, me, Gus, sometimes Lassie- we’re literally a dream team.”

“We are.” She tries to push her concerns about her boyfriend out of her mind, ordering food from a waiter wearing a costume clearly not sized for him- Shawn is always making seemingly impossible things happen, and Jules has no idea how he roped a real restaurant into this, aside from it being either a favor or a blackmail- but Shawn doesn’t blackmail people as far as she’s ever known, so probably a favor.

Shawn is impossible. More and more so every day. And the most impossible is his contradictions. She watches him fumble with his napkin, and remembers him leveling a gun with a steady confident hand on more than one occasion during a case. She listens to him recount a completely wrong story that she keeps correcting the details of, and looks at the perfect recreation of a scene from a play they saw once, months and months ago. She watches him exclaim in surprise over realizing the plates have a design of playing labradoodles at the edges, and thinks about how he saw the reeds moving in a different direction than the wind was blowing from almost impossibly far away to pick up on such a detail.

“Shawn.” She sets her fork down and interrupts his gushing about how cute the design of one of the puppies on the plate is. “I need to tell you something.”

His smiles drops, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape, eyes alight with panic. 

“I’m not breaking up with you.” The quick assurance makes Shawn sigh and slump in relief. “And-and I want you to know before I say this that I’m not doubting you either, or your psychic abilities.”

The tension in Shawn returns. “What?”

Jules bites her lower lip. “I just… can’t pretend not to know anymore, Shawn. Because it’s been just… awful watching you do everything you can to pretend you’re not intelligent.”

“... Jules, I-I don’t-”

“I talked to your dad.” She immediately wishes she’d started with anything else, the way Shawn shuts down and clams up. “No, that’s not what I- Shawn, I know you have an eidetic memory, and that you’re probably hyperobservant, on top of being psychic.”

Shawn’s mouth is tightly pursed, eyes searching, body language just withdrawn. Jules plows forwards, swallowing thickly.

“I’ve been seeing it since you moved in. You’re so smart, Shawn, and-and your detective skills are amazing. One night you solved a case in your sleep, and you mumbled the whole thing, and I was just blown away by how you were able to come to those conclusions and connect those dots.”

Shawn looks down, briefly licking his lips. “Chief Vick never asked you to review the detective’s exam, did she?”

“... No. And, you just proved my point. You made that connection so fast, Shawn.”

Shawn shrugs. “What-what is this? Why right now? On our date?”

“Because I love you.” She reaches over, pries his hands away from his sides and holds them. “And I want to understand why. Why do you pretend you’re not one of the best detectives I’ve ever seen? Your psychic visions are one thing, Shawn, but your skills… they’re genuinely incredible.”

Shawn won’t look her in the eye, traveling his sharp gaze around anything else around them. “You know me. I just uh, love putting on a show.”

“That’s what your dad said.” She feels his hands tense in hers. “But I don’t believe either of you. Well, I believe that’s part of it, but not the full thing. … Your dad said you’ve never really embraced it.”

“Of course he did.”

“But you do, embrace it. You do every day. I watch you get completely antsy and out of your mind without a case, and I used to think it was because you were just… chaotic, and-and bored, and maybe some kind of psychic restlessness but it’s not, right? It’s because you need to be able to solve something. Because you like being smart and solving cases, but you don’t like people knowing. Why?”

“Jules…”

“I’m not asking you to bring me in on your process, or to admit to anyone else when you solve instead of divine. I’m just… trying to understand you, Shawn, because I want us to work. And for us, this, to last… we have to know each other, and I feel like I’m just learning about you all over again.”

Shawn is silent for a moment, and then takes a deep breath and meets her eyes, reluctantly. “Gus knows,” he admits. “You probably figured that, but, he does.”

Jules nods. 

“Did my dad… talk about uh…”

“... He mentioned he trained you since you were young.”

“... Yeah. … I don’t know how to, uh…”

She waits. He seems… lost.

“... I learned how to properly stalk a perp through a hideout before I learned how people get sick from each other,” he says. Jules blinks in confusion until he continues, “I learned most things about being a cop before I learned everything else. And it wasn’t… he’s not proud of me, you know? When I was a kid I wanted to be just like him, and I couldn’t be, and he was disappointed in me. Eight years old, I could close my eyes and tell you the clothes anyone in the room was wearing, could tell you who was married and who wasn’t, how… how many hats, were in the room, and it didn’t matter. It was…” He scoffs. “Adequate. That’s it.”

Jules rubs her thumb along the back of his hand. “You got bitter about it.”

“Bitter’s a strong word.” It’s not- it’s just right. It’s in his voice, his eyes, his posture. But he doesn’t like these words, she knows that about him. He doesn’t like these words and these feelings, and he likes to pretend they don’t exist, and he doesn’t experience them. And how hadn’t she realized that was a problem before now? How had that just settled in her perception of him without setting off alarms that maybe something wasn’t okay?

“Shawn, you’re more than adequate. Your dad said so himself, he told me he is proud of you.”

“... He-he did?” The genuine surprise, it makes Jules’s heart shatter all over again.

“And more importantly, we’re all proud of you. Me, Gus, Carlton is even if he won’t admit it either- The Chief, she’s so proud of you and the work you do! Even when you mess it up or cause major problems, she still defends you and knows you do good work.”

Shawn’s mouth finally untightens, slightly, one corner twitching up for a brief smile. But it fades all too quick. 

“What’s the rest of the reason, Shawn? It can’t just be because your dad didn’t give you the credit you deserved. You’ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, like I said Jules, it’s not as fun. You know? You-you solve something psychically and everyone is in awe! Throw in some jokes, make a scene, plus the bad guys always seem to confess way faster when they think I divined certain things, it’s just better!”

“You could do the same with your deductions! I mean it, Shawn, they’re amazing, the way you solved that case with the hit-and-run was incredible. I don’t even know how you came up with the magnets.”

He puts a finger by his temple and gives her a somewhat prodding, questioning look. She frowns at him and raises an eyebrow, and he puts his hand back down with a defeated nod.

“... I don’t want to be my dad.” Shawn shrugs. “I don’t want to be my dad, and as amazing as he is I don’t want to be Gus, and I don’t want to be Lassie, or even-even some… ideal, me. I want to be… me, Jules.”

“I’m not asking you to not be you.”

“Not on purpose, but- this is me, Jules, this is who I am. I can’t live my life with everyone expecting me to remember everything completely perfectly no matter what, or asking me about every little detail of everything all the time, or saying I should know things or be smarter than what I did or-or have to be better than that-”

It’s like when the last piece of a case finally fits into place.

“Oh.” Jules squeezes his hand, and he cuts himself off to look at her with pinched brows and still parted lips. “Shawn… that kind of pressure is insane to put on a child. I’m so sorry.”

He blinks, frozen, and Jules stands up to come to his side and kiss his forehead. She crouches down by his chair. “You, are more than a detective,” she assures. “You are funny, and fun, and sometimes you’re so stupid and reckless that it literally hurts to watch, but that doesn’t mean that what you do right doesn’t matter. You don’t have to match your stupidity to your intelligence just to balance them out.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Isn’t it? … Oh, my god, and after-after Yin you started going more overboard-”

“Jules-”

“-because he called you out and you had to hide even more-”

“Jules.” She looks into Shawn’s eyes and they’re… glassy. Red. Watering.

“You, being good at what you do, did not put me in danger,” she says softly, reaching up to brush her thumb over his cheek. “You being intelligent will not push me away, or change what I expect of you, or make you lose anyone you care about. But it might make us lose you, if you keep trying to bury it and compensate for it.”

“... I-I…”

“You know you’ve gone too far the opposite direction a lot these last few years, don’t you?”

He’s silent.

“... I understand these feelings run very deep, and all the back to your childhood. I understand that you probably resent what made your dad tain you just as much as you resent him and his training.”

“I don’t resent-”

“Shawn.”

“... I’m… working on not resenting him. Especially after he got shot.”

“I know. But you’re not working on how you feel about yourself because of him, are you?”

“... This is… very uncomfortable.”

“I know.” She wipes away an escaped tear. “You don’t like people being able to really know you, do you?”

“I like you knowing me. And Gus.”

“Do you? Because I had to figure all of this out on my own. Shawn, are you so used to hiding what you could be to be what you want to that you don’t even know how not to hide anymore?”

He flounders, opening and moving his mouth with no words, looking at the ground to her side. “I-I don’t know,” he finally gets out.

Jules nods. “And that’s okay.” Has he ever heard that before, in response to him not knowing something? Maybe. She won’t know unless they keep talking about this. She hopes they keep talking about this.

“... But you uh…” He presses his wrist, sleeves pulled down and gripped in his palm, to his nose for just a second, and sniffs. “You’re not saying you don’t believe I’m psychic anymore?”

“No, I’m not.”

He nods. “... You know, uh… Lassie is the whole reason I even got started, on the psychic detective thing.”

“Really?”

“Really. We still have this uh, table and everything for a few more hours, if you want to hear the story.”

She recognizes it for what it is. You know now, I’m uncomfortable with it, but I’ll try to not be, for you. So she sits back in her seat and listens to Shawn describe how he figured out a case through watching the news, and when Lassie didn’t believe him about it he claimed it was a psychic vision, and then he realized that works.

It recontextualizes even more things for Jules, even more of what Shawn must feel and think, and she wonders if she’ll ever fully figure him out. 

She’ll just have to spend her entire life with him, she supposes.

[apomaro-mellow]

Demon!Eddie 5

At some point, Eddie had cleaned Steve up a little and dressed him in a tank top and shorts. The shirt had a band he’d never heard of but maybe Eddie would tell him about it sometime. Steve had tried to get up on his own only to immediately fall back onto the bed when he felt a sharp pain. That would be last night, coming back to literally bite him in the ass.

“Job hunting’s gonna have to wait”, Eddie grinned.

Eventually they migrated to the couch back in the apartment, Eddie lying on his back and Steve right on top of him. He found it very easy to imagine if the rest of his life was like this. In Eddie’s clothes, in his place, completely surrounded by him.

Steve didn't even know where his clothes from the first night went and he didn't give a flying fuck. Not when he was laying on top of Eddie, getting his lower back rubbed.

"Don't get a big head about it. That was the first dick I ever took."

“I didn’t say anything”, Eddie said.

“I can feel it in your hands”, Steve replied before letting out a soft hum as Eddie’s fingers pressed a spot on his spine. 

The morning was spent so lazily and for the first time in a long time, Steve wasn’t thinking about his future or what he was supposed to do about it. He just relaxed in Eddie’s hold. The only time he worried was when Eddie got up to say he was making breakfast. Steve ignored any soreness to confirm if his suspicions were correct.

And to his horror, Eddie dumped ground coffee into a pot, filled it with water, and then set it all on the stove. 

“You’re an animal”, Steve said.

“I think we established that last night”, Eddie smirked.

“I’m talking about your coffee set up. Where’s your coffee maker? Your filters?”

“What’s wrong with the way I make coffee?”

“Tony the tiger wouldn’t make it that way.”

Eddie’s retort was cut off by a knock on the door and a man’s voice. “Eddie? Edifice Edacity Edger you open this door right now!”

“Shit!”

“Who’s that?”, Steve asked.

“Uhh, that would be my uncle. Stay here for a second and don’t make a sound.” Eddie pushed Steve towards the magic door and before Steve knew it, he was floating in a dark abyss.

He wasn’t in the lavish bedroom from before, nor was he in any of the places Eddie took him yesterday. It was just an endless void with no gravity. Steve was no stranger to hiding in girls’ closets, but this was definitely different.

“His uncle, huh...”, Steve whispered just in case. He wondered what he was like. Probably terrifying if Eddie was trying to hide him. Maybe he was closer to a more traditional demon and would’ve eaten Steve up or sucked our his soul.

Steve felt like he was flying and floating and descending all at the same time and just as he was starting to feel disoriented, he saw the light of the door opening right next to him and Eddie reaching in. Steve took his hand and was pulled back into the apartment.

“Wayne, this is Steve, my current contractor. Steve, this is my Uncle Wayne.”

Uncle Wayne looked more like the kind of guy who spent his free time at hardware stores and bait shops than a demon. But now Steve felt like it would be rude to ask.

“Hi there, sir. Nice to meet you.”

Wayne’s hands were on his hips as he looked Steve up and down. “Hmph. He’s easy on the eyes, I’ll give ‘im that. But you should know better than to be swayed by a nice face.”

“I’m not being swayed”, Eddie said. “It’s just taking some time to fulfill his request.”

Wayne gave him a disappointed look. Steve knew they were talking about him but couldn’t see what the exact problem was.

“You know how this story ends, son.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “No actually, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten us, oh wise storyteller.”

“Eddie, don’t be rude to your uncle”, Steve chastised. 

Wayne held up a hand. “He’s a brat, but he ain’t misbehavin’. But my official designation is ‘storykeeper’.”

“A what?”

Wayne waved a hand and glowing tomes materialized all around them. “Every single person that has ever existed, has a story to tell. Demons too. When a life ends, everything gets compiled and their story comes into my hands.”

“So...you know everything that’s ever going to happen?”, Steve asked in awe.

“I’m not omniscient. I only know what happens when the story’s over. But after doing this for as long as I have, you start to notice patterns.”

“And what’s my pattern?”, Eddie raised a brow.

“How does bullheaded young buck gets too caught up in one deal sound? Does that sound like a fit?”

“I’m not-” Eddie rolled his eyes but made the mistake of looking at Steve while doing so and had to quickly avert them.

“I don’t understand how any of this works, but is Eddie doing anything wrong? We have a deal and he’s seeing it through”, Steve said in his defense.

“Most demons ain’t so thorough”, Wayne answered.

“You and I both know most demons ain’t honest either”, Eddie said.

“Eddie, get the deal done. And move on.”

Eddie didn’t respond but Wayne wasn’t waiting for one, already on his way out the door. Steve waited for the door to close to speak again.

“Am I....are you breaking any rules because of me?”

“Rule breaking is a part of my creed, baby. But technically, no. Wayne’s right, most demons would’ve set you up in a new place with a new name and considered their job done. But I pride myself on my customer service.”

Steve smiled. “Right. You serve all your customers the same way?”

Eddie saw the way Steve was looking at him and faltered. “N-no. No, I don’t. But you’re special.”

It certainly made Steve feel special to hear it straight from Eddie. He got the deeper meaning of Wayne’s warning. They were both supposed to be very short chapters in each other’s lives. Ships passing in the night or whatever. Steve knew, once he had figured out what he wanted, Eddie would leave and he’d never hear from him again.

“I think I’m all rested up now. Let’s keep looking.”

“You sure?”, Eddie asked.

“Yeah. After we get some decent coffee.”

--------------------------

Maybe it was because of his uncle’s words, but Eddie kept his distance for the next few jobs. Steve tried not to mind too much. He was going to have to do whatever he chose without Eddie anyway. He spent the rest of the morning into the early afternoon in a summer camp, working as a sports counselor. 

He had plenty of fun teaching some boys the basics of basketball and running them through drills and even getting through a mini game that they all seemed to enjoy. After a couple periods though, he had a free moment and explored the camp. He ended up being wrangled by a group of boys who needed some muscle for a satellite project.

“I didn’t even know we did this kind of thing at this camp”, he admitted, while lugging around machinery he couldn’t even begin to name.

“Yeah, no duh. You sports counselors barely leave Jock Row”, one kid snarked.

“You should come by the Arts and Sciences building some time”, another said. “We’re always doing something cool.”

“Even if it’s not totally legal!”, the one who had grabbed Steve beamed.

“Uh, what’re you guys’ names again?”

“I’m Dustin, the nice one’s Will, and those two are Lucas and Mike.”

“How does Will get ‘nice one’?”, Lucas asked.

“You know Will’s the reason your cabin didn’t get Cinnamon Toast night, right?”, Mike said.

Dustin gave such a gasp, Steve was worried he’d swallowed a lung.

“Our cabin had to do it with biscuits! How could you?”

“They made it a competition and that’s the one kind I can win”, Will shrugged.

They made it to their destination and Steve followed their disjointed directions but eventually the satellite was built and they were talking to the girls camp across the lake. It was completely juvenile and fun and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like this. 

The lunch bugle rang and Steve was approached by a black and red frog while the campers went off to eat.

“And what have you been up to? Frog stuff?”

Eddie croaked, then hopped a couple times in place. Steve crossed his arms.

“I’m not picking you up like this. You’re all, slimy. And you look poisonous.”

Frog-Eddie croaked and hopped onto his shoe, still urging at him but Steve was a rock. Eddie transformed back into himself, wearing the camp t-shirt and red shorts that was the counselor uniform.

“You weren’t so picky about my fluids last night”, Eddie smirked, while wrapping his arms around Steve.

“Yeah there’s a difference.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, beautiful~ Lunch and then on to the next?”

“Let’s.”

----------------------------

Eddie had zero idea why Steve wanted to work in an office. But hey, who was he to judge? At least he wasn’t trying to be a cop anymore. 

Steve really just wanted to experience office culture for himself. It was the sort of thing his father had been setting him up for. Before the ritual sacrifice of course. He was put on mailroom duty and that was where he met his worst enemy - Robin Buckley.

She sneered and scoffed at him most of the time. And when she deigned to use words, her comments were always biting. Delivering mail wasn’t too bad, except the fact that most of the employees barely looked him in the face while delivering. He came to the break room and Robin was already there. He tried to ignore her while getting a yogurt from the fridge.

He leaned against it when another guy came in. Steve was pretty sure his name was Kenneth.

“Hey, it’s the mailroom crew!”, he smarmed while refilling his mug with coffee. “You know Robin you should, maybe not scowl so much the boys here appreciate a nice smile.”

Kenneth walked out before he could see Robin’s megawatt dirty look. She glanced at Steve and saw he had the same look as her.

“What an asshole”, Steve said.

“That’s putting it lightly. There’s so much as, there’s no hole left”, Robin snarked.

Steve slid over closer to her so they could continue to talk in whispers. The people here were jerks but he might choose to work with them one day.

“At least he’s better than Nick.”

Robin wretched with her tongue out. “You know he slept with Norma at the Christmas party?”

Steve raised a brow. “Nick? With the ring on his finger and the happy family picture in his cubicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Scumbag.”

They spent more than was probably allowed on their break, trading gossip. Steve only got distracted when he saw a very attractive janitor roll by with his mop and bucket. Without a word, he walked off and followed him right into the closet.

“You’ve been wandering around more”, Steve said as the door closed.

“Just tryina give you space baby. Wouldn’t wanna influence your decision”, Eddie grinned, taking the cap off his head.

“And what if my decision was to blow off work and have some fun with the cleaning guy in the broom closet?”

“Sounds like the opposite of climbing the corporate ladder”, Eddie grinned while unzipping his jumpsuit.

“The opposite of climbing is what again?”, Steve said as he sank down to his knees.

Part 7

Tag Team

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @lololol-1234 @chaoticvictorianspirit @giopandaonice @marklee-blackmore @blackpanzy @kacatshi @stevesbipanic @goodolefashionedloverboi @panicatthediaz @gregre369 @littlewildflowerkitten @starryeyedpoet17 @envyadams-vs-me @abbiecadabi-blog @genderless-spoon  @stxrcrossed186 @l0st-strawberry @willowsmelody @bornonthesavage @mxmakessense @roaringgoodshow @potato-of-the-lord @actualwakingnightmare @meccaminayah @irregular-child  @cherr1ehead @anaibis @finalmoondragon @sani-86 @bestwifehaver @tinyplanet95 @mc-i-r @abstractnaturaldisaster @livgil273 @crowley--aziraphale @formacoon @slv-333 @just-a-tiny-void @beckkthewreck @awkwardgravity1 @plasticcrotches

[softxsuki]

TW: verbal abuse and I think info/trauma dumping, I'm so sorry if this is uncomfortable.

can I have an urgent request? I have a verbally abusive family and the worst is my dad and older brother. Every thing sets my dad off and I think my older brother shows strong signs of antisocial personality. I have so many insecurities that my brother is the root of and I'm scared to even talk about him to my parents because he always flips the table. I feel I have no one to tell this to because I'm homeschooled and don't have friends and the only person my age i spend time with is my cousin. At the same time I feel I'm just complaining because sometimes there's moments we get along and ik that so many other people have it so much worse. Again so sorry if this is info dumping but can I request mitsuya takashi comforting a fem aligned reader in a similar situation?

Mitsuya Comforts Reader Who Has Problems At Home

| Pairing: Mitsuya x Fem!Reader | Genre: Comfort, Fluff | Post-Type: Headcanon | Word Count: 820 |

Warnings: Insinuating verbal abuse (I don't think I actually said that's what it was though), reader feeling alone, crying, feeling like her family are against her

Note: Hello :) sorry for taking a while, life is a little hectic and my writing motivation has run down the drain, but here we are. I hope this provides you with some comfort! I find that even though we don't have these characters physically here to comfort us or go to, reading about the does help me. And also the possibility that maybe one day we'll meet someone who will fill this role in our lives, to be our person to make us feel safe and loved. I hope that happens for you one day as well <3

Mitsuya:

It had happened again, another day when your family had made you feel completely horrible about yourself

Needing to step out for some air to clear your head, you do just that, ignoring your families yells, you bolt out the doors

The tears wouldn’t stop falling down your face as you walked whenever your feet would take you, not realizing where you were headed until you got there

Toman’s hideout…a place Mitsuya had been urgently trying to keep you away from when he wasn’t around

Even if the Toman members wouldn’t hurt you, if any rival gangs showed up, you’d be dragged into their scuffle

To your luck, it had started to rain as you glanced at the temple in front of you, leaving you drenched as a few Toman members ran past you, fooling around–a complete contrast to how you felt 

And that’s when he saw you there, alone and crying

With a shake of his head, Mitsuya makes his way over to you, throwing his coat over your head, before gently taking your hand and leading you somewhere more private and dry

“What’re you doing here? I thought I told you it was dangerous going out alone, especially at this hour,” he sighs, looking up at the gloomy clouds, it was already sunset, but the cloudy day already made it darker out that it was supposed to be

He gently reaches up to wipe some stray tears from your face

Even without you saying it, he could already tell what was wrong, it was a common occurrence in your household and he hated that there wasn't more he could do to help you aside from taking you with him and living together once you both graduated

“I have no one, Takashi. I’m all alone, and everyone in that house is against me,” you cry, leaning into his touch

All he can do is hold you tighter against himself

“Let’s get out of here first”

He takes your hand and leads you away from Toman’s hideout, keeping his jacket over you to stop you from getting wet, allowing the rain to soak him instead

“You have me, y’know,” he says quietly, tugging you along with him. “There’s not much I can do now, considering our age, but just say the word and I’ll take you with me. My mother’s hardly home as it is, and Luna and Mana love you…they’d all be thrilled to have you around. You know how much my mom loves you as well”

You smile softly at his words, but shake your head. “I appreciate the offer…maybe when we’re older and if you still feel the same way, I’ll accept it. For now though, I can handle it…even if it looks like I can’t,” you sigh, looking up at the clouds, allowing the rain to hit your face, allowing you to feel something other than hurt and frustration

“I know I’m being overdramatic. There are people out there who have it ten times worse than me, yet here I am crying…It’s not like things are bad between us all the time, just sometimes. I can get through a few more years”

He reassures you that you’re not being overdramatic. No matter how miniscule your problems may seem compared to others, the people you were supposed to trust and love the most in this word hurt you, and that was more than enough for him 

In the meantime, he’ll focus on what he can do for you 

Leading you back to his place where his mother was just heading out for work, he gently guides you in, his mother waving goodbye to you before taking you to his room where he gives you a pair of dry clothes to change into so he can put your own clothes to dry

You spend the rest of the evening entertaining his sisters, who are a great distraction–they always compliment you and say how pretty you are

Time with Mitsuya and jumping into his own little world was your escape from the confines of your home that felt suffocating sometimes–your boyfriend always knew how to cheer you up and lift you out of that darkness–it was reassuring knowing that despite everything, at least you’d still have him to run to

He insists on you spending the night as soon as your own clothes are dry and you change back into them, claiming you needed to go back home before your mother started freaking out about where you were

Though it was daunting having to go back to the place you dreaded, you felt a little lighter as Mitsuya and his sisters walked you back home

One final kiss to your cheek and cute hugs from his sisters made you certain that things would be okay

This wasn’t forever, and you knew whatever awaited you in the future would be better than this, you couldn’t wait for it to come

Posted: 10/27/2024

[mrsaltieri-real]

I Can Be Sweet (Mickey Altieri x GN!Reader)

Word count: 1.5k

Warning/s: GN!Reader (no specified pronouns, Mickey uses the pet names baby and babe) fluffy fluff fluff, language, nudity, Mickey being soft, (yes it’s a warning) the L bomb gets dropped, romantic shit, Mickey being a terrible cook, Mickey still somehow being a little shit, etc

I’ve had a really, REALLY shit week so I wrote this as like a little soothing thing for myself and anyone else whose having a crappy week. I just needed to comfort myself by writing something like this. I’ve got good friends that have helped me through my stuff this week (you know who you are) and I wanted to say a big thank you.

Anyway, here’s a fluffy Mickey fic because sometimes we need our murder boys sweet.

You knew him better than almost anyone.

Even though you didn’t know about his… extra curricular activities, you knew Mickey.

He was cocky, sarcastic and most of the time a complete ass because that’s simply all he’d ever been. He never allowed anyone to get too close to him in fear they’d disappear like everybody else. He was a performer, an artist. A master of deception and only letting people see what he wanted them too. But once you broke through that hard shell and got to the soft centre, there was a whole different side to him.

Mickey was… sweet, he was romantic and passionate yet remained surrounded by his defensive coating until he finally trusted you enough for you to see it.

After a particularly exhausting day of serving booze to the drunk college assholes in the on campus bar you worked in to make extra money so you could live in an apartment by yourself to avoid having to share a dorm room, you walked toward your door, head pounding and feet aching. You wanted nothing more than to shower and go to sleep in preparation for what would undoubtedly be another shitty day tomorrow.

You rummaged in your bag for your keys but paused for a second outside your door, furrowing your eyebrows when you heard soft music and dishes clanking together. Had someone broken in? Fuck, that was just what you needed.

You pressed your ear to the door to try and hear a little better when you heard a familiar soft humming rendition of the current song playing on your speakers and all the paranoia faded away in an instant, calmly unlocking the door and walking inside.

Mickey was flitting around your tiny kitchen like a hurricane, trying to do far too many things at once.

“Oh, fuck me.” He cussed as he lifted the lid to one of the pots on the stove, grimacing at whatever horrible sight he’d concocted.

“Mick?”

He jumped a little, head snapping in your direction.

“Hey! Hi, you're back!” His cheeks were slightly flushed and his shirt had splatters of food spotted over the light blue material and you raised your eyebrows a little.

“Yeah, there was another fight in the bar. Shit got broken so we decided to close… what are you doing here?” An amused expression crossed your face as Mickey continued to move around the kitchen as you spoke, clearly growing more and more frustrated.

“You uh.. you said the other day you were having a rough week so I thought I’d TRY to do something nice for you. But I… yeah. I can’t cook.” He admitted sheepishly.

As he spoke you dropped your bag on the floor by the door and walked over to him, touched by his effort. “Yeah, I can see that.” You teased, gesturing toward the pots and pans completely wrecked with the burnt food coating the bottom of them. “But thank you, that’s really sweet.”

He shrugged, waving you off with his hand but you caught it, pulling him close to you. “I mean it.” You said softly and he smiled down at you, looking a little bashful.

“Sorry ‘bout your cooking shit.” He said, eyes narrowing at the ruined pans. You laughed a little, shaking your head at him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Probably was due to get some new ones anyway.” You let go of his hand and walked around him to turn off the stove and grabbed a garbage bag, dumping the pots and pans inside. “I’ll throw them out and buy some new ones tomorrow.”

“Oh, I did do one thing right!”

You tied the bag, placing it down before looking at him.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He grinned at you, gesturing for you to follow him as he left the kitchen and walked down the hall to your bathroom. You followed him sceptically, unsure of whatever the hell he had awaiting you but was taken aback when you entered your bathroom after him to see he’d run you a beautiful bubble bath, candles scattered around the whole room with your favourite song playing softly on your other pair of speakers. Whatever he’d used in the bath smelt of honeysuckle and lavender, the smells oddly complimenting each other.

Mickey dipped his hand in the bath before smiling proudly to himself and turning to face you. “I might be a shit cook but I can run a mean fucking bath.”

You didn’t respond, staring at the bubbles until they blurred into fuzzy white spots, a tear falling down your cheek. “Hey, hey, hey! Why are you crying?” Mickey’s voice sounded alarmed as he moved in front of you, his hand automatically reaching forward to wipe the fallen tears.

“I… no one’s ever done anything like this for me.” You felt slightly pathetic for crying, trying to move your head so Mickey wouldn’t see your face but he held your cheeks in his hand, beautiful face soft and affectionate.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was gonna make you cry, baby.” He still looked a little anxious, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“No! No, these are happy tears.” You assured him, sniffling a little. His hands dropped from your face and slid down your arms, seeming at least a little comforted as he said, “still.”

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up on your toes so you could bury your face into the crook of his neck. He let out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades and burrowing his face into your messy hair.

“You stink.” He mumbled into it making you laugh and pull back, playfully smacking his arm.

“Yeah genius, I work in a college bar of course I stink.”

“Want me to help you?” He gestured toward the bath before his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, a broad smile on his beautiful face as you nodded eagerly.

“Lift your arms.”

You obeyed, raising your arms above your head so he could pull your shirt off of you, placing it carefully on top of your laundry basket. His hands moved down to your jeans, popping the button open and pulling down the zipper slowly, smirking a little at your soft shiver when his warm fingers made contact with your skin. “Easy babe, we’re just taking a bath.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly nudging his hands away so you could remove your jeans along with your underwear, turning to toss them on top of your shirt.

When you turned back round Mickey was already naked and your eyes automatically dropped to his package before quickly diverting away, making him laugh again.

“Giggly prick.” You muttered as he climbed into the bubbly water, opening his arms out for you to climb in in front of him.

You took his hand, sighing happily at the perfectly warm water before you sat down between his legs, head resting back against his shoulder. He leaned forward, picking up your washcloth and dipping it into the water and wringing it out a little before he smoothed it over your chest, his head resting softly against yours.

“You’re being very sweet tonight.” You said softly, hearing his breathy laugh in your ear.

“You sound surprised. I can be sweet.” He defended himself in mock offence.

“I know, but never like this.”

It was quiet for a moment as Mickey continued to gently wash your aching body. The warm water in combination with his hot body was relaxing your tight muscles in a way that almost had you floppy in his arms.

“Am I really that bad?“ he murmured into your ear.

You frowned a little, lifting and turning your head so you were looking at him. “I didn’t mean it like-“

“No, no it’s okay. I know how I can be sometimes, and I guess in addition to me doing this because you’ve had a bad week it’s also to show you how much I care about you.”

You leaned up a little so you could press your lips to his cheek softly before sinking back into his arms, head leaning back again against his shoulder and your eyes fluttered closed.

“There’s also another reason.”

“Mm?“ you hummed absentmindedly. You felt his heart rate pick up and his breathing hitch ever so slightly as he swallowed, as if he was terrified of whatever he was about to say.

“I uh…” he sighed, face burrowing even further into your shoulder. “I love you.” He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by your skin.

You froze for a moment, trying to comprehend what he had just said. “Y- you what?” You twisted around so his head moved off your shoulder and he was forced to look at you.

“I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face and you struggled to turn all the way round to face him in the bath, and he laughed as he gripped your elbow to help you. “Steady, steady.” He said softly.

“You love me?” You whisper once you are facing him. You were straddling him, knees either side of his thighs and your hands resting on his chest while his rested on your hips under the water as you looked into his eyes, trying and failing to stop the tears from welling up again.

He bobbed his head once and even in the dim light of the flickering candles you saw his cheeks flush slightly.

“You don’t have to say it back!” He suddenly said quickly. “Please don’t feel like you have to say it b-“

“I love you too.”

A relieved sigh came out of Mickey’s mouth and his lips turned up into a devastatingly beautiful smile. “Thank fucking god.” He whispered, leaning forward and resting his forehead against yours.