#can we finally get some goddamn pining please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

consistentlyamess · 6 months

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We'll see about that - Chapter 1⎮Open with me, oh, we could be honest

[4.4K-ish]

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: You just wanted a fresh start but you might get more than you bargained for when the sleepy town of Hawkins lives up to its reputation.

warnings: takes place after season 4, 18+ , MDNI, slight age gap (reader is like 2 yrs older than Steve), canon typical violence, mentions of a lonely childhood, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, underage drinking, swearing, eventual smut, abusive relationship, brief stancy storyline, strangers to friend to lovers, pining, slowburn

A/N: I HAVE VERY LITTLE IDEA ABOUT WHAT I'M DOING AND I'M TERRIFIED. but I did get about 10 more likes than I expected, and I've been thinking about this story for so long, that so far it's kind of flowing out of me. so here's chapter 1!!! I probably won't be able to keep this pace up, just a heads up. *hides under a rock immediately after posting* just please bear with me while I figure out what I'm doing here, I guess. idk if it's a warning or not but english is not my first language and it's not beta-d. so. it is what it is . 'tough girl' is a very conscius nod to mizz @loveshotzz who had me on. the. floor. with AIRWIY

💜💜💜 TY for reading!!!! 💜💜💜

Fic Masterlist

Previous Chapter I Next Chapter Coming Soon

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You woke up with a pounding headache. Sometimes they still came. Mostly like this, in the morning, out of nowhere and it takes about two or three aspirins for them to go away.

This is the first hiccup. The last time you had a headache like this, it was about finals time back in Bloomington. You just wanted to get out, you wanted it to be over, barely slept, barely ate, so the headaches were no surprise really. Then after graduation, when you were leaving one cursed town for another, you thought you left the headaches behind as well. Which very obviously was not the case. But they passed pretty easily compared to the previous ones.

The week passed in a blur mostly. You hung out at Family Video quite a lot and when you weren’t there it was mostly just getting used to the town. The first couple of days you find a diner where you can have coffee in the morning. The second morning you run into Steve.

‘Hey, stranger, how are you doing?’ He says with a boyish smile.

‘Just getting my morning coffee, trying to show this lovely town that I’m just like them, you know, coffee, pancakes, the works.’

‘Good thinking, you would be truly terrifying otherwise.’

‘You think?’

‘Oh, absolutely! 5”6 woman with a killer smile and - and I quote - decent cooking skills? Dangerous.’ He’s flirting with you but you pretend to be oblivious.

‘Well, wait ‘till you see my reward sticker collection. The lack of teachers shows, stacked up some pretty great stars and flowers and whatnot. Those kids won’t know what hit ‘em.’

Fine, maybe not that oblivious.

‘Wow, bringing out the big guns early, huh? How does one earn those stickers? Would some A-grade guacamole do the job at a dinner party?’

‘We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.’

‘Guess so.’ You reach the coffee shop and he’s opening the door for you with a sly smile. Oh, boy.

As you get to the counter, you see that a tiny brunette is already balancing some coffees and pastries there.

‘... and I’ll also take like four of the cheese sandwiches.’ ‘Coming right up! Hey, give those pastries back, I’ll get you a bigger bag.’

‘Thanks, Al.’

You don’t miss the way Steve stiffens a little beside you.

‘Having a party Wheeler?’ He says.

‘Oh, god, you scared me.’ The tiny woman said, clutching at her chest. Her big eyes and tiny pointy nose made her look very cute.

‘You know exactly that’s for those assholes in the office.’ She says with a frown.

‘I know, you looked very cute though.’ She smiles shyly at that, looking down at her feet. Oh, boy, indeed.

‘Hi, we haven’t met before-’ you reach out trying to cut the tension.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was so occupied with those goddamn sandwiches.’ She shakes her head and takes your hand immediately. ‘I’m Nancy, Nancy Wheeler. You must be the new girl. Robin told me all about you. Went on a tirade actually. You’re starting in Hawkins Elementary, right?’

‘News travel a little unsettlingly fast here.’ You let out a nervous laugh. ‘But yes, that would be me.’

She glances up at Steve, who suddenly finds something very interesting on the menu above the counter. He runs a hand up his neck and squints at the menu. Subtle, Steven, really. Seamless.

‘So, she told you about the dinner on Saturday as well?’

‘A little more actually, she invited me.’ She frowned again and it made you laugh again.

‘Good! That’s exactly what I was about to do.’

‘Great! She told me she was gonna bring a pie but I’m betting my left arm she’s gonna burn it, so we’ll bring a back-up.’

‘We?’

‘Jesus, what a fun bunch we are. My boyfriend, Jonathan, is coming too. But only if it’s okay with you! He's staying for a while, finally. A little socialization we’ll do good for him.’

OH. BOY. So many alarm bells go off in your brain you can’t even count them.

‘Next!’ Al shouts out.

‘Sorry, one sec.’ You excuse yourself and you count your lucky stars that it immediately snapped you out of it. You’re not sure you could’ve contained your face.

‘Hi, Al! Can I get a black coffee to go please?’

‘If you ask this nicely, you can have anything, sweetheart. Comin’ right up! Anything else for you? The muffins are fresh.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t miss that! Please, throw one in!’ You smile sweetly and he smiles back. On another day, in another café you might have suggested something very different this guy could do with his fresh muffin but you needed this town to like you. If anything happens or if you run out of gas in the middle of the road, you need to have friends. People looking out for each other. Looking out for you. That’s what these small towns are all about, right?

‘Jesus, keep it in your pants Al.’ Steve mutters to himself and both you and Nancy raise an eyebrow.

‘Okay, I totally forgot, I have an appointment with the…’ Shit. You’re blanking. ‘... the, uh, the school counselor!’ You say a little more loudly, you’re so proud of yourself. ‘So, I’m off.’ You slap a two dollar bill on the counter and start moving toward your exit.

‘Who? Miss Kelly? Isn’t she on vacation, still?’ Nancy asks. ‘I haven’t seen her in like a week.’

‘Well, I have an appointment with someone, maybe it’s not the school counselor. I didn’t, uhm, write it down. But I’ll see you guys on Saturday, right?’ You wave your goodbye and your lungs feel less tight right away as you get out of the diner, leaving a little dumbfounded Nancy and Steve behind you. Whatever you walked in the middle of, you want no part of it. No matter how boyish his smile or homely brown his eyes are.

***

Staying away proves to be way more difficult than you thought though. Robin is way too nice to say no to, and more importantly, you really like her. It also doesn't take long until you meet the other members of the party. You met Jonathan one time at the library you visited. He was with Nancy, looking for something they didn’t elaborate on. A very endearing stoner Argyle, a gloomy kid, who visited his not-a-girlfriend friend in the hospital every week, Lucas, his quippy and lovebly snappy sister Erica, a kid with the smartest mouth on him you’ve ever seen, Dustin, Will, who’s very soft spoken is really fast to become one of you favorites, not just because he’s really into art, Nancy’s broody brother Mike and of course the shy and sweet El. Or Jane. You’re not sure and nobody else seems to be either. But, hey, who were you to complain about weird nicknames? But all of that came with a lot of Steve on the side and keeping the flirting to the minimum was a real challenge. Especially ‘cause you liked it. He knew what he was doing and he was good at it. But it was impossible to miss how he softened when he saw Nancy, how something akin to hope flickered in his eyes.

It was also impossible to miss that they were hiding something. At one time Mike referred to the mall fire with air quotes and Robin immediately kicked him in the shin. Whenever Will touched his neck, everyone became tense. El kept looking around and spacing out sometimes, until Mike brought her back with a gentle tug on her hand. You’re not stupid, you pick up on these things. But you don’t ask too many questions. They’ll tell you if they want to. Or not. That’s also fine with you. Everyone has secrets and it’s not a surprise that a town like this may harbor more than one.

The second hiccup does come at the dinner though. You were nervous all day. And of course cooking and cleaning all day. You made lasagne and your favourite salad with grenadine seeds and walnuts, and some chocolate chip cookies, just to be safe. You bought wine and soda, a bunch of scented candles, you cautiously put up fairy lights, the first thing that made the place look more cozy, more yours. Your chest tightened at the thought a little. This is okay, this is your place. This is what people do when they have a place. You were just renting, of course, but the owners made it pretty clear that they’re not planning on coming back anytime soon, so they gave you the all clear on any makeover your heart desired. You didn’t know what your heart desired. Not yet anyway. You were so focused on just getting a place, any place, you would’ve taken a room in an attic without lighting. You’re a little startled by the doorbell as you get lost in your thoughts while tossing the salad.

‘Shit’ you mutter to yourself. You haven’t changed, your hair is a mess, you’re a little sweaty from all the work you’ve done and of course the table is not set yet. Great going, Peach. One hell of a first impression. Well, it wasn’t a first impression, not really, but still. The doorbell goes off again.

‘Coming!’ As you tear the door open it presents a bickering Robin and Steve.

‘... I took my eyes off of it for one second, Steve-’

‘Yeah, well the recipe clearly stated that you have to watch it very closely! Constantly!’

‘Oh, my go- Peach!’ Robin rasps as she notices you standing there. She basically throws herself in your arms. ‘I burned the pie.’ She says in a sad voice that reminds you so much of a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. ‘I failed you, I’m so sorry!’ ‘Oh, honey, it’s okay! I made some chocolate chip cookies, Nancy is bringing some pie as well, we’re all good sweets, don’t you worry!’ You tell her, hugging her tightly and laying a kiss on the top of her head for good measure. ‘And next time just call me, my pies are the talk of every Thanksgiving. I can give you some tips and tricks.’

‘You’re an angel.’ Robin sighs. Above her shoulder you lock eyes with Steve for a minute. He watches the two of you with the most doughy eyes and smile you’ve seen on him so far. He waves a little and huffs out a quiet ‘hi’. You take one of your hands from the girls back and wave back to him. He keeps watching and you can’t take it. You pull Robin away, grabbing her shoulders.

‘Alright, early birds get the worm’ you clap your hands ‘which means, you guys get to help me with the finishing touches, while I go take a shower and change, because I may smell like an onion but I have so much flour and butter on me that if you put me in the oven for 20 minutes on 350º I might come back as a pie as well.’

You make them laugh with that and the little laugh that comes out of Steve makes you want to run away into the woods and scream, it's so sweet. For the love of GOD, girl, get it the fuck together. This time Robin’s prodding finger in your ribs is what snaps you out of your state.

‘You're the boss! We’re at your service, m’lady!’ she bows theatrically. ‘Band kid?’

‘Trumpet’ Steve says with a shit eating grin. Robin seems a little uncomfortable at that.

‘Figures. Band kids are always the best.’ You wink at Robin. ‘Stamina and nimble fingers. Exactly what you need in the kitchen.’ Wow, you’re staggeringly bad at this not flirting thing.

‘Well, damn. If you were recruiting I’d never even look at a swimming pool or a basketball.’ Steve counters with the beginnings of that same shit eating grin.

‘Jock?’ You ask, turning to Robin.

‘But a reformed one at that. Did some penance for his sins.’

‘By driving 12 year olds around town?’ ‘And by bringing wine and some beer to your dinner party, smartass.’ As he says it, he starts moving around you, already having rid himself of his coat and shoes. He leans close and almost whispers the last word in your ear. It makes the muscles in your neck flex. ‘So, where do you need us?’ Robin’s eyes ping-pong between the two of you so you turn around. ‘Right. Plates are in the cabinet above the sink, cutlery in that drawer, glasses are already on the counter and you have some napkins on the table already. I’ll turn myself into a human again and be right back! Don’t break anything, please, I barely have enough stuff as it is.’

Your turn to make your way to the bathroom but you still catch the sound of Robin’s swat that probably lands on Steve’s arm. They hiss something at each other, but you try not to eavesdrop more. Not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys, not my circus, not my monkeys.

By the time you make your way back, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle are all there. The letter with suspiciously narrow eyes and mellow smile. You make a mental note to ask him about that sometime. As you make your way to the table, still drying your hair with a towel, Nancy gasps.

‘Oh, my god, I love your dress!’

‘Thank you!’ You answer as you reflexively look down at yourself, before hugging her. ‘It was my mom’s in the sixties. Real flower child shit, I love it.’ The dress is almost floor length, it has a warm, orange-ish shade thanks to the thousands of tiny flowers, but it also has a dark, almost black undertone. It hugs your hips and has small buttons running up all the way on the front, top three still hanging loose, revealing some of the lace underneath.

‘Hell yeah, brochacha, I dig your style.’ You giggle at Argyle’s antiques as you hug the two boys shortly as a greeting.

‘Hey, do you have a corkscrew somewhere in here?’ Steve calls from the kitchen without turning around. ‘Uhm, that’s a good question actually. Let me check!’ You make your way to the kitchen, and plop the towel on the counter temporarily. ‘I- oh’ Steve says the moment he turns around and sees you. You’re suddenly very aware of those top three buttons. You should’ve buttoned them. ‘Wow, you, uh, you look really nice.’ He says, running a hand up and down his neck once. So, it is a nervous tick. You hope to any higher power if they're there, that you don’t blush. ‘Thanks.’ The smile you can’t hide. You know it’s there, he knows it’s there. Well, fuck. ‘So, have you checked the bottom drawer? I think that’s usually the bastard drawer.’ ‘Bastard drawer?’ He asks with furrowed brows but still not taking his eyes off of the tiny flowers. ‘My mom used to call it that. It’s the drawer you just kind of throw shit in, shit you don’t know where else to put. It's kind of rude, now that I think about it.’ You grimace to yourself as you zero in on it.

He watches you as you move toward said drawer. He likes the way the dress sways with each step you take. It’s a slow, almost magical movement of fabric in his eyes. A mix between a witch and some sort of fairy. He likes that you’re still barefoot, you look at home, even though you’ve only been here for a little more than a week. He likes the way you tuck your wet hair behind your ear as you crouch down. He likes your wet hair too, if he’s being honest with himself.

‘Uh-huh! The bastard drawer never disappoints.’ ‘Way to go flower child!’ Argyle chimes from somewhere in the living room. Steve shakes his head at that. But you can tell, he’s hiding a smile. ‘Thanks dude!’ You shout back as Steve moves towards you. You think he’s going to help you up, but then Robin storms in. ‘Hey, Peach- oh, come on, I’ll help you up.’ Something flashes in Steve’s eyes as he leans back on the counter. ‘Do you need help with anything else?’ ‘You can help me bring in the drinks if you’re up for it. The lasagne need another 10 minutes but we can have some drinks until then.’ ‘Really? Me too?’ You snort. ‘I’m not your mom, babes, of course you can.’

The evening goes well after that. You get to chatting, you talk about uni, very briefly but you mention that you had a failed relationship as well, you gush about your favourite teacher and ask them about the children of Hawkins. They tell you about the town, about how they met, how they became closer when tragedy after tragedy struck. Robin mentions clumsily that Nancy and Steve used to be a thing, which in turn makes the whole table uncomfortable. Except for Argyle, who, god bless his heart, chimes in with a ‘This lasagne is schmashing dude’. Which eases the conversation again. ‘It is really good, Peach.’ Steve emphasizes, tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips. ‘When did you learn all of this?’

‘Well, growing up it was just my mom and me. We didn’t have a perfect relationship but she loved cooking. That was really the only thing we did together. Then she had to work more, so I had to do it on my own more and then when I was uni, it was comforting to do things we used to do together.’ You shrug a little almost as a sign that you don’t know what else to say. You do that a lot, Steve notes to himself. As well as the fact that your cheeks and chest get a little pink after two glasses of wine. Just some notes. You don’t know if it’s the wine or the fact that you haven't felt this calm, since what feels like a lifetime, but this sudden openness catches you off guard. But Robin jumps to the rescue again.

‘Oh, my god, that is so sweet!’ She squeals and she grabs your hand. ‘By the way, I never asked you about how that kind of date went?’

Now she is the one with the deer caught in the headlight eyes.

‘Duuuuude, you had a date? That’s awesome! How did it go?’ Argyle joins your inquiry. ‘Oh, it was… well, we- uhm’ she gets caught off by the ring of the phone which she seems very grateful for. You? Less so. ‘Who is- sorry, I’ll go get it.’ As you get closer to the phone, on the other side of the wall, your stomach starts to knot. No one is supposed to know this number. Maybe the school. Please, god, let it be the school. As you reach for the phone, you know it’s not the school. You’re so sure it makes you nauseous. Panic crawls up your throat, your hands are shaking but you know you can’t not answer. Normal people are not afraid to answer phone calls.

‘Hello?’ You call but nobody answers. You swallow with a big gulp. ‘Hello?’ You try again, this time squeezing your eyes shut and balling your hand into a fist. And that’s when you hear it. Breathing on the other side. You panic and slap the phone back on the wall.

‘Is everything okay?’ Steve asks and you hear the slide of a chair on the floor, and you start moving further into the kitchen. ‘I- Y-eah’ you call with a crack in your voice. You take a deep breath, trying to stady yourself. ‘Just ah, a wrong number. I’ll go heat up the pie!’ You try to think about the cold metal of the Colt on your night stand. It’s okay, you’re safe here, you can protect yourself, you made sure.

You’re already leaning against the stove when he finally catches up to you.

‘Do you need help?’ ‘No, no, I got it’ you call back over your shoulder, without turning around. You crouch down in front of the oven and open it. The heat comes rushing out but it’s still not enough to warn you. You grab onto the sheet with reckless abandon and promptly burn yourself.

‘Ouw- Fuck-’ ‘Shit, are you okay?!’ Steve comes rushing towards you as you hear the muffled sound of the others fussing in the living room. ‘Shit, come on, come here.’ Now he helps you up, one hand holding your wrist, the other settling on the small of your back as he guides you to the sink. ‘We have to put some cold water on it, so it doesn’t blister.’

You can only nod. The panic of the phone call is still at the back of your throat but now the burn of your palm feels a lot more urgent, so you will your body and your mind to work together and prioritize here. As the cold water hits the burn, you hiss and Steve apologizes.

‘No, please, it’s what you’re supposed to do.’ ‘So much for the pie tips and tricks, tough girl.’ He smiles at you a little mockingly. ‘I never said anything about kitchen accidents. You got nothing on me Mugsy.’ ‘Alright-’ Before he can really get going, Robin clears her throat loudly in the kitchen door, standing with crossed arms. ‘You guys okay in here?’ ‘Yeah!’ You say, pulling your hand away from Steve as gently as you can. ‘Yeah, just burned my hand. Nothing life threatening. But I will need someone else to put the pie in the oven for me after all.’ ‘I got-’ ‘I can do it.’ ‘Really, Robin? So, I’ll have to take care of two burns?’ Steve says, turning around with his hands on his hips. ‘Oh, calm your tits mom, I can put a pie in the oven on my own you-’ ‘Both of you can shut up, I’ll put it in.’ Nancy says as she pops in and comes directly towards you and looks at your hand with a concerned look. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Guys, it’s just a sheet that was a little too hot. I’ll live.’ Nancy nods but you know that she can see that you’re still shaking. She moves to the oven and Steve takes the opening to make his way back towards you. ‘Do you have some ice? You should put some ice on it for the night.’ ‘Hey, Steven!’ Robin calls out a little too loudly and a little too sharply. And you make a mental note to send her a gift basket because now that the panic and the pain are subsiding, you really don’t want to feel his breath on your cheeks and his fingers moving your wrist so carefully, like you’re made of glass. ‘Would you be a darling and help me open a bottle of wine.’ ‘You’re a big girl, you can open a bottle of wine on your own.’ He quips back. ‘Oh, now I can do things on my own?’ ‘It’s a bottle of wine not a piping hot oven, Buckley, there is a difference.’ They continue arguing but you can’t make it out anymore under the sound of running water and Nancy and your laughter. ‘They are literal children.’ ‘It’s cute, really. I always wanted siblings.’ You confide in her. How can you not? Her blue eyes have this shade to them. A shade that sees right through you. A shade that tells you there’s no use in lying. Or hiding for that matter. ‘Are you sure, you’re okay?’ She asks, quiet, sincere. ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. Had much worse.’ You smile at her and she doesn’t push. You’re thankful.

You almost can’t believe it but the rest of the dinner goes by without any more accidents. You guys come close when Robin wants to cut into the pie but Steve takes the knife out of her hand. Everyone wanted to help clean up but you swatted them away, insisting that you were the host and it was fine. You pack a box of leftovers for Argyle and he’s out the door. Nancy and Jonathan are the next, thanking you and even Jonathan shooting you a smile that tells you, he really did enjoy himself. By the time you close the door behind Steve and Robin, you almost forgot about the phone call. Almost. Not even a minute passes when there’s a knock at your door again. You huff out a laugh. ‘I told you, dude, that’s all the cookies I have, there’s- oh, Steve.’ You’re stopped in your tracks. ‘I- did you leave something here?’ ‘Yeah, I,uh, can you check if my wallet is on the counter, for me?’ ‘Sure, come in, I’ll be just a sec.’ You check but there’s no wallet. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t find it! Are you sure it’s not in the car, or-’ When you arrive back he’s leaning over the small dresser next to the door.

‘Oh, shoot! You know what?’ He says, feigning a realization. ‘It was in my back pocket. So forgetful sometimes. Night, tough girl!’ You’re a little confused but that doesn’t keep you from quipping back. ‘That nickname’s gonna stick, isn’t it?’ ‘Depends. Maybe I’ll think of something better.’ He says with a wink and turns on his heels.

After locking the door you glance down to the dresser. There’s a note on the block of Post-its you have there.

I’m very used to spending nights on my own in an empty house. If something spooky happens again or you need some ‘tips and tricks’ just give me a call.

There’s nobody there to see but you still feel like you have to hide your smile by trying to bite into your lower lip as you study his number.

Fucking hell. You really should’ve finished those goddamn buttons.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington slowburn #robin buckley #robin stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #nancy wheeler #nancy stranger things #jonathan byers #jonathan stranger things #argyle stranger things #we'll see about that #WSAT #WSAT fic

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tradetobest · 3 months

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dee's january 2024 fic recs

ok so. i thought i'd do a fic rec list every month this year of just my favourite fics that got bookmarked in the month (not necessarily written in the past month) that had just passed... i was a bit busy for the past few days but FINALLY i got the chance to sit down so!!

(if you want to play fic roulette here's some blind links otherwise!! enjoy under the cut

1 2 3 4 5 6)

3:30 by sevenfists

pairing: sidney crosby/evgeni malkin rating: E words: 11k summary: Napping with Sid would be inconvenient, embarrassing, and more than a little gay, and maybe Zhenya was a little gay, but he didn’t need to advertise it.

i LOVE "oh this thing we do together has become a routine now we Have to do it before games" fics and you should too!! this one is So cute i love it....

waiting for confessions of love by catchingpapermoons

pairing: jamie drysdale/trevor zegras/mason mctavish rating: M words: 41k summary: “I’ll be so real with you, man,” Trevor says, pulling back. “I had no fucking idea you liked dudes.”

one thing about me is that i am an absolute sucker for miscommunication and will love it at all costs and this fic DELIVERS!!!! and so well!!

high into the blue by idday

pairing: jack eichel/connor mcdavid rating: T words: 10k summary: Lieutenant John Eichel of the United States Navy – Boston to his squadron and Jack to the people who matter – is reckless and cocky and too smug for his own damn good. But even Connor has to admit that the boy can goddamn fly. (Captain Connor McDavid, Royal Canadian Air Force, is by the book in the worst way, conservative and careful and liable to get himself killed out there. Jack shouldn’t be impressed by him. He really shouldn’t.)

when i tell you i SCREAMED when i got the notif for this fic and then immediately went and watched top gun.,.... if you know me you know anything idday puts out i literally eat up like mceichel is the only thing that will ever sustain me ever again and this was NO exception,,,, always a pleasure to be able to experience an idday fic is what i say

play your heart out by ribena

pairing: leon draisaitl/connor mcdavid rating: M words: 4k summary: Connor loses his heart. Leon finds it for the both of them.

oughh./.. ouhhh.... what even to say.... clutches my heart (lol)...... beautiful..... i literally screamed cried went through it..... please read like literally begs you

nobody wins afraid of losing by adelphenium

pairing: tyler bertuzzi/dylan larkin rating: E words: 12k summary: It’s been almost a year since the first trade. It’s been just a few weeks since they last saw each other, facing off on the ice here in Toronto. In all the months since the Boston run, Tyler’s done nothing but read Dylan’s texts from the notifications bar like a sad and filthy sack of shit, too weak not to feel a thrill whenever a Saw that goal, what a beauty berts or a Hope you’re sleeping ok came through. Or: Tyler and Dylan during the 2024 bye week.

"hey you bookmarked this one on december 31st" IM PUTTING IT IN JANUARY!!!!! PLEASE READ THIS FIC!!!!! not only did jamie adelphenium write it but its just. it has shaped the way i view tyler bertuzzi and sparked a love for mr hockey butt himself..... what a good fic yall please read

reserve your ardors by wrightsworth

pairing: jamie benn/tyler seguin rating: E words: 9k summary: Jamie was in over his head. He had been out of his depth for months if he was being honest, ever since he picked Seggy up from the airport that first time in the humid Dallas air and his Omega genes decided to make themselves known, and loudly.

it wouldnt be me without some good old bennguin and RAHH pining and omegaverse and unrequited-requited and miscommunication like what else could you want in a fic its so good

#fic recs

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epithet-beloved · 8 months

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Hi I'm shimmying in here awkwardly but can we have some ideas for Jericho x Dixon for the 3 starving jerixon fans please

MEETING HALFWAY

synopsis… Dixon and Jericho both need romance advice, and the only people they can ask are their cellmates, who are coincidentally both terrible at it.

ft. Jericho Felocity, Dixon Roughhouse, Ramsey Murdoch, California Slim, Alcatraz

tags… anime campaign, epithet erased spoilers, Slim and Ramsey give awful romantic advice, pre-relationship, mutual pining, straight up painful pining they are both so oblivious, Dixon sorta has a nervous breakdown

word count… 1284

a/n… this is my first time writing Dixon I hope the fandom approves of me ✧ 🦄

“Well, at least it’s not Ramsey.”

Was the first thing California Slim said when Jericho told him he had feelings for Dixon.

“Yeah, but what do I say to him?” Jericho was frantically running on his treadmill to blow off some steam, a clear nervous energy about him. In clear contrast to his normal, everyday frantic running on his treadmill. “I’m not really that great at talking. You think he even notices me at all?”

“Oh, don’t listen to Slim, Jeri!” Alcatraz was much more enthusiastic about this matter than the murderer he was attached to, and saw fit to float next to Jericho trying to calm his nerves. “Dixon seems like he’s got a lot to say himself, I’m sure he just appreciates you being a good listener!”

“Yeah,” Slim scoffed, “a lotta crazy bullshit to say.”

The ghost turned to glare at his companion, but with no face, the look of disappointment on his face was left entirely to the imagination.

Jericho, lost in thought about his current dilemma, seemed utterly oblivious to the argument going on behind him. “Yeah, maybe it’s better if I just let him talk. I don’t want him to think I’m weird or anything.” Almost as if to demonstrate his point, the man’s body phased partially through the front of his treadmill whilst he continued to ‘run’ in place as if nothing were wrong.

“Jericho, everyone in this place is goddamn weird. And Dixon’s a nut — guys like him can’t afford to be picky about their company.” Slim just watched his cellmate for a few seconds, then sighed and massaged his temples. Usually, Jericho was an alright guy to bunk with, but sometimes he could be a real headache……. “You sure a relationship in prison could even work? You guys only see each other during lunch time.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Alcatraz quickly said, as he did after pretty much everything Slim told people. “I’m sure you two will find a way! You’re such creative souls!”

“That’s sure a way to put it…..” The actual murderer eventually stood up, finally deciding to do something about his poor friend’s predicament. “C’mon, man, you got yourself all outta sorts.” Thinking it would help somehow, he gave Jericho a hearty slap on the back to try and force him out of the treadmill, but this only created a bigger problem.

“Oh, that’s not good!”

“No fucking shit, Sherlockatraz!” The two unfortunate souls were currently faced with their friend lodged halfway through the cell wall, legs dangling in a janky position. Slim first pressed his ear to the wall, trying to make out if the speed runner was suffocating to death like he did last time. “You breathing in there, dumbass?!”

“Oh,” came Jericho’s voice from the other cell. “Hi Dixon!”

California Slim turned to the ghost with a tired expression. “Never mind. It’s worse than we thought.”

Not like things were going much better in the cell next door before that, anyway.

✧ ✧

“I dunno, I just, I just—“ Dixon was pacing back and forth like the madman Ramsey knew that he was. “I feel like he’s the only one who gets me, but like, what— what if he doesn’t get me? What if he’s an alien? Or a spy? Or— or an alien spy?!”

“Dixon,” started Ramsey, who was laying on his bed like a teenage girl while drawing another commission of a certain inmate’s fursona. “He avoids clipping to the front of the lunch line every day just so he can stand next to you. I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“But what if he’s just like that with— with everyone?!” From the corner of his eye, Ramsey saw Dixon hunched over with his hands in his hair. If he got any more nervous, he was pretty sure the guy would start pulling his hair out.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“And why shouldn’t I overthink it, man?!” In the split second that Ramsey looked away, Dixon had rushed over to his bunk and was now aggressively shaking the poor rat man by his shoulders. “I finally have the first good chance with a guy in years, he doesn’t treat me li-like I’m crazy, and I could— I could just fuck it all up! ‘Cause crazy fuckin’ Dixon fucks everything up!”

“Hey, hey, relax…..” Worried for his cellmate, Ramsey would slowly raise his hands and place them on the bespectacled man’s shoulders. “None of us ever said that about ya.”

“Slim tells me I’m a nut.”

“Slim’s a dick and he does not speak for us.” Ramsey took a pause to sit up properly, not slouching as he gave his friend a serious look. “Listen, Dixon. My man. If you’re crazy, then so is everyone else in this damn place. And Jericho is the sweetest guy I know, there’s no way in hell he isn’t happy to listen to you. I’m happy to listen to you. So even if stuff doesn’t work out, look at me.”

Dixon, who had stopped shaking, flickered his eyes up from the floor to Ramsey’s face.

“You’ll always have me. We’re buds! I mean it.”

There was a long pause where neither man said anything, and the conspiracy theorist’s eyes resumed darting around the room at high speed. Always thinking, considering, analyzing. Perhaps a bit too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah,” he’d eventually stutter out from between clenched teeth. Finally noticing how tightly he’d been holding Ramsey, he pulled back like he’d just touched a hot stove. “Sorry….” He held one of his wrists and watched his own hand as he flexed it lightly. “Guess I’m just used to all the sorts of stuff….stuff my family—“

A loud crash and the room shaking made both men yelp, interrupting whatever was about to be said in favor of whipping their heads around to the first and last person Dixon was hoping to see.

“Oh, hi Dixon!” An awkward, smiling Jericho was what awaited them, waving with one hand while the other dangled uselessly. Only his upper half graced the room with its presence, the other presumably stuck in his own cell.

“Oh,” Dixon mirrored, suddenly laughing to fill the silence. “Hey! Need, uh…..need some help there?” Shit, he was repeating his words again. Was he weirding him out?

“Nah, I’m alright for now.” Wait, was he worrying him? Now Jericho almost felt bad for showing up. “Just, uh….haven’t talked to you in a while. How’s it been?”

“FINE! I mean uh. Fine!” Dixon lied. “Was just talking…..talking about……”. The man made the mistake of glancing at Ramsey for guidance, who was of no help and instead chose to gawk at Dixon helplessly. “…..alien spies!”

With a conversation hook, Jericho now felt less nervous. He liked it when Dixon talked — it was like the only side quest dialogue in the world he wouldn’t skip. “Wow, I love aliens! Like in Metroid!”

Dixon pointed at Jericho and nodded rapidly, too nervous to do anything but blindly agree and go off of what the other man was saying. “YES, it is exactly like Metroid! You are SO right! Y-you know, it’s kinda like how— how jellyfish are ancient alien parasites that’ll create the zombie uprising!”

“Really? I’d love to be a zombie, because then I’d be the fastest one!”

✧ ✧

“You know, they really are just painful to listen to.”

“Slim, be nice!” Alcatraz chastised. “I for one am glad that they’re bonding! You should stand to be more like them!”

“Mmm, no thanks.” The murderer peeled himself off of the wall and skulked back to his bed. “I’m just glad I’ll get to say I called it when they start dating in a few weeks.”

#🦄's writings #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !#anime campaign #anime campaign imagines #epithet erased spoilers #jericho felocity #dixon roughhouse #Jericho Felocity x Dixon Roughhouse #jericho Felocity imagines #dixon roughhouse imagines

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antifictionsfiction · 2 years

Text

Worth the Free Admission - Part 2/5

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4

Fandom: Children’s Theater Critic with Alfred Molina

Pairing: Arthur H. Cartwright x gn!reader

Rating: T

Chapter summary: Cartwright takes you up on your offer and shows up to a rehearsal. For some reason he seems significantly less self-assured than when you first met him.

Warnings/tags: age difference, insecurity, mutual pining

Chapter word count: 1644

A/N: Once again, major thanks to my friend B. (@scorsesedepalmafan ) for support and creating and providing the lovely gif! ❤ And a special shout-out to my friend Anna (@castanierprosper ) 😊

Even after persuading yourself over and over that you wouldn’t take Cartwright’s upcoming visit into account when preparing for the class, your notebook was overflowing with detailed notes. Your planning seemed to cover every minute of the usual two-hour class and then some. Even as you were waiting for Cartwright to arrive in the rehearsal room, you were speed-reading through all twenty pages – again. You were sitting on the edge of the small stage at the far end of the room, surrounded by scattered papers, pencils and paper clips. You had some cleaning up to do before the kids came and made an even bigger mess of your own chaos.

A knock on the door – far too polite to signal Cartwright’s arrival to you right away – finally drew your attention away from the notes. Just as you invited the interrupter in, the door flew open, apparently by accident. The large man you would recognize anywhere now took a leap and reached for it to prevent it from slamming into the wall. With Cartwright’s long limbs coming into play, the whole situation looked exceptionally comical. As if to complete the gag, Cartwright then proceeded to adjust his glasses that had gone askew with his sudden movement, and blurted out an apologetic greeting. You observed he had remembered not only your last name, but also the first. And you had thought you were the only one who had set out to impress today.

“Mr. Cartwright, a pleasure to see you again,” you got up from the stage and walked up to him with an extended hand ready to shake. You were yet to decide whether your words were just a pleasantry or not. Cartwright, on the other hand, appeared genuinely pleased, once he got over the shock of his own entrance.

“I am not interrupting your work, am I?” he asked, pointing to the open notebook and pages of your latest script spread across the stage.

“Well, you are about thirty minutes early,” you chuckled. Of course ‘on time’ meant ‘unnecessarily early’ in his language. Well, at least you didn’t have to clean up all on your own, “But no. I was just going over my notes for today’s class.”

“Ah, I see you do take advice. May I take a look?”

You ignored the condescending subtext of his remark, knowing there would be many other opportunities to get defensive later. Instead, you led him over to your makeshift working space and handed him the notebook after checking it was open on the right page, vary of the more personal nature of some of the entries. Cartwright flipped through the pages, with a satisfied nod or a hum every now and then.

“Yes, this is very good. I have to say I’m impressed by your planning skills. Of course, my guess would be your lesson plans work significantly better on paper than in practice, much like your play. But we can build on this.” He handed you the notebook back, looking at you with certain expectation. Was this a compliment? Was it constructive criticism? Was it just criticism? What you knew for sure was that it was a prompt for you to take charge of your own goddamn work.

“Right. First we need to get the space ready for rehearsing. I’d really appreciate your help, can you bring out those boxes over there, please?” you directed him towards a tall shelf rack with a couple of boxes placed on the top shelf, well out of your reach. Cartwright didn’t even need a chair. You were almost beginning to believe inviting him here was a smart idea.

---

Cartwright had responded to your offer to join the kids in the warmups with a resolute ‘no’, and now he was occupying your favorite chair while you were physically engaging in the exercises. You had underestimated his ability to comment even on the most basic of warmups, but here he was virtually dissecting six-year-old Andy’s take on a walk through the forest.

“Are you wearing shoes? Are the soles of your socks made of steel? If you are walking barefoot, where’s the discomfort? Where’s the pain? You need to make a creative choice and follow it with an action!” The boy had slowed down, walking in a circle in uncertain wobbly steps, trying to follow instructions he couldn’t decipher. You gave Cartwright a quick ‘let me take care of it’ look and took over again.

“The forest floor is full of rocks, crunchy leaves and protruding roots, how does it feel? Is it easy to walk on?” you asked.

“No!” the kids echoed.

“Well, then maybe making careful steps and rising your knees higher will help,” you suggested and observed the focus in the kids’ faces as they took more deliberate steps, some of them even going as far as wincing in pain from stepping on a particularly sharp imaginary rock or root. You praised them all, and even Cartwright seemed satisfied with the progress - not that it was his accomplishment, even if he most likely thought otherwise.

At first you found it quite easy to deflect his pompous input just by overlooking it and carrying on the way you usually would. However, coming into the second half of the class, you could tell he was getting restless. Something about the way he hunched in the chair sent an image of a big, neglected dog into your brain and suddenly you almost felt guilty for ignoring him.

“Mr. Cartwright, are you sure you don’t want to join us? We’re going to move onto some improv skits now, it would be wonderful if you could contribute with some ideas,” you offered him your hand with a smile. He gaped at you in disbelief for a few seconds before getting his words out.

“No! I couldn’t- I can give you my thoughts on the performance, I- I’m not an expert-“ You cut him off mid-sentence, by leaning in a little and lowering your voice.

“Mr. Cartwright, they’re children, remember? They’ll eat up any crazy idea they hear, especially if it’s coming from me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they love yours, too. Alright?”

“Alright,” he gave a sheepish nod, taking your hand and following you to the stage.

God, his hand was so comfortingly large and warm, heating up your own – and you couldn’t explain where that thought had come from for the life of you. You quickly dropped said hand to avoid the possibility of any further thoughts of this kind emerging. You cleared your throat both to get the kids’ attention and end the moment of odd tension you had accidentally created. If you had the courage to sneak a look at Cartwright, you would see the rather prominent blush spread all the way up to where the rim of his glasses rested on his cheekbones.

“Do we have to play with him?” asked Ollie, pointing at Cartwright. It was an innocent and understandable question, given Ollie’s experience. But it didn’t exactly work in favor of your pursuit of peace. You could feel the critic tense behind you without needing to look at him. You hoped the other kids wouldn’t join in, because the idea of defending Cartwright against a gang of annoyed children somehow terrified you more than defending the kids against Cartwright had.

“Ollie, come here for a minute,” you pulled him towards you and Cartwright and stepped away from the stage to get a shadow of privacy. Humiliating the boy in front of the rest of the class would never be on the menu again.

“I know you didn’t mean it, but what you just said didn’t make Mr. Cartwright feel great. Is that right Mr. Cartwright?” you raised your brows, signaling to Cartwright to clarify his feelings. He didn’t.

“I erm-“

“But he was so mean to me and he hates how I play,” sniffled Ollie. So he had taken something from Cartwright’s critique after all, something you would have to tackle in the future.

“He doesn’t hate your acting, Ollie. I think you both said ugly things to each other, but you can still be friends if you apologize to each other, hm? Mr. Cartwright?”

Although Cartwright had taken off his specs, there was a glassy shine to his eyes, not nearly as though he was on the verge of tears, but something was going on inside his head.

“Yes, I apologize, dear boy. Despite the obvious shortcomings of your perform-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence again as you jabbed your elbow into his side with enough force to throw him off. He shot you an alarmed glance but got the point of your little message.

“I apologize, Ollie,” he corrected himself. You touched Ollie’s upper back, urging him to take his turn apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the ground.

“Call me Arthur.” Cartwright smiled and grasped Ollie’s tiny hand in his massive one, “Everyone, you can call me Arthur,” he called out to the class, obviously having taken note that the class called you by your first name too. The kids all started giggling and shouting Cartwright’s name like a mantra, all while pulling him into the midst of their miniature crowd. Cartwright’s attempts to free himself from their clutches fell flat, but you could tell he wasn’t using even a snippet of his true strength. Above all, he appeared to be relieved by the sudden change in their attitude towards him.

“Alright, release Arthur so that he can help you come up with new characters for this little story we’ll be playing!”

Your order was met with ten excited yesses and squeals and the kids plopped down onto the stage, waiting for further instructions from you. You and Cartwright joined them on the ground, and before you went on to explain the next task, you noticed him watching you with a slight grateful smile.

#arthur h. cartwright x reader #worth the free admission #alfred molina x reader #alfred molina fanfiction #arthur h cartwright x reader #alfred molina #funny or die #gender neutral reader #rated t

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hinatastinygiant · 1 year

Text

12 | Pine

Pairing: Tokyo Revengers x Fem!Reader

Wasteland Masterlist

FLASHBACK ~ ONE DAY AGO

DRAKEN’S P.O.V.

A random song that I’d never heard of before starts playing on the radio as I’m driving my car down the road. I then look down at my phone, double-checking the directions to the Operation Finally Home that I’m driving to. After putting in my application over a year ago, the company finally decided to help me get a home and help with my severe PTSD. However, I’m already five minutes late for my interview, and my palms begin to sweat. My whole body then begins to shake and I start feeling nauseous. When I look back up at the road, I feel so disoriented that I hardly even hear a small bell ringing or a man on a bike waving his hand at me.

When I finally do snap back into reality, I try to slam on the brakes but instead hit the bike. I watch as the man goes straight under the car and my whole body freezes. I pull the car over and wait for my breathing to calm down before I get out of the car and rush to the man’s side.

Thankfully, I know CPR. However, after twenty minutes, I know I have to give up. Instead, I check his pulse.

Nothing.

“Wake up, dammit!” I shout as I grab the man’s head and slap his cheeks slightly. “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t mean to hit you. Please, please, wake up.”

I then look around. The whole road must be completely abandoned or something. Nobody has come along since I ran over the bike.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself as I stand up and walk to the man’s feet.

I continue to curse to myself as I start to drag his body over toward the forest on the side of the road. With a deep breath, I sit him up and lean him back against a tree. I then walk away for a brief moment to bring the bike over as well.

When I finish, I take a step back and look at the dead body sitting limp against the tree. Looking down at my hands, I’m completely shaking. There’s nothing left for me to do. I need to go.

When I get into my car, I turn around back the way I came. I drive back to town and park my car at the nearby church.

When the car’s in park, I reach into the backseat of my car and grab my duffle bag. I dig through it for an extra pair of clothes and change into a fresh outfit that doesn’t smell like shit or have blood stains on it.

After changing, I take another breath and open the car door. I walk toward the church and stop just outside the door. I’m not religious. Why the hell am I here?

“Just do it, man,” I hear a voice chuckle behind me. When I turn around, I see an older man watching me patiently. “Open the goddamn door or I’ll tell him to release a plague on your ass. I go here regularly so me and God are fucking tight!”

“And does he know you curse at strangers?” I smile slightly.

“Look, I’m not standing here judging you so why’re you doin’ it?” he then asks calmly.

“I’m sorry,” I shake my head. “I’ve just never done this before. Well, at least not since I was a kid. I don’t really know why I’m here…”

“So then why did you come here?” he then asks.

“What do you care?”

“Well, you are blocking the entrance and I’m waiting to go in so since we’re both standing here I might as well talk to you,” he smiles softly.

I shake my head before turning back to face the door. I quickly put my hand on the doorknob and step inside before I can hear another word from that stranger.

“Thanks, kid,” he pats me on the shoulder before walking past.

I follow him slowly as we make our way toward the front of the church... Everything all feels so surreal to me as I follow the man like some lost puppy. When we approach the front of the church, he sits down and pats the spot beside him.

“Sit down, kid,” he tells me. “You’ve gotta wait for one of the priests to free up so they can hear you’re confession. You don’t gotta say it out loud to everybody in here, ya know. It’s not A.A.,” he then chuckles.

“I knew that,” I lie as I sit down beside him.

The two of us then sit together quietly as we wait for our turn. Not long after, another person gets up from their spot beside a priest and kneels at the end of the altar.

“You’re up, kid,” the stranger nudges me. “Are ya ready?”

“My turn? What about you?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I can wait. Just hope you don’t get one ‘a those judgy ones,” he smiles.

With a deep breath, I stand up and walk toward a young-looking priest who’s staring down at a beaded necklace.

“Uh, hey,” I whisper as I sit down in the chair connected to his.

“Uh, hey?” he repeats. “What happened to ‘forgive me for I have sinned’?”

“Forgive me, father-“ I then begin before he cuts me off.

“Do you even know the Act of Contrition?” he then sighs.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of the judgy ones,” I mutter aloud accidentally.

“Nah, that’d be Father Capriestsun,” he tells me with a straight face.

“What?”

“Forget it,” he shakes his head. “What’re you confessing?”

I look down at my sweaty hands as my brain nearly freezes while I try to think of what to say. “I, uh,” I begin.

“C’mon. You’re only human. Mistakes happen,” he tells me.

“Do priests usually say things like that?” I then ask, looking over at him.

“I’m not as old-fashioned as the rest of the guys here,” he then whispers and winks at me. “Is it bad?”

It’s then that I finally confess my sin to the priest. It felt a lot better than I thought it would, too. If not for that man who walked in with me, I probably would’ve turned around and gone somewhere else instead.

“I’ve gotta go to the cops, don’t I?” I sigh as I ask the priest.

“That’s not really my place to say,” he then shrugs. “But I think you should do what feels best for you.”

“So you’re telling me to do the right thing,” I hum. “Well I guess-“

Before I can finish speaking, there’s suddenly a high-pitched, ringing in my ear. I think I’m the only one who can hear it- probably a symptom of the stress I’m under- but as I’m bent forward with my hands on my ears, I notice the young priest is doing the same.

A few moments later, when it stops, we both sit up and look at each other. The priest is the first to notice that we’re now the only two left in the church, followed by me when I try to follow his gaze.

“What the hell just happened?” he asks.

“You heard it too, right?” I reply.

“That noise that sounded like we just took an elevator straight into the deepest pits of hell? Yeah, I heard it. What the fuck do we do now?”

Wasteland Masterlist

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heavennumber2 · 9 months

Text

My first fic! This is part one of a series I’ve called

Here’s One For the Othered

Series is rated E: Hopefully lots of sexy sexy filth later. This chapter is M (references to anxiety disorders, CPTSD, past sexual assault, pining, sexual references, Frankie being an awkward cutie)

I dedicate this series to anyone who suffers from anxiety disorders or CPTSD.

Part 1 stars our love Frankie Catfish Morales.

Part 2 will either be our baby boy Marcus Pike or Murder Daddy Dave York (open to suggestions).

Chapter 1: Christopher Columbus Did Not Deserve His Own Holiday

It takes a lot to make you angry.

Your focus makes you the epitome of calm; the soft sweet smile sewn into your face could placate any skeptic.

::Look at you, you beautiful swindler, blending in with the human race like you belong::

You unfortunately have something called a heart/goblin. You’re not sure if other people have it but it lives in the same cavity as your heart, it gets crowded, and it gets loud. And mean. It’s really really mean.

You don’t belong, you know this. You sit behind the invisible glass wall that separates you, the filthy, from them, the acceptable. They are so beautiful with their stories of family and jobs and childhood and social soirées. Sometimes their kindness shocks you. Some of these remarkable humans you meet make you feel… oh what’s the word… beautiful? Loved? Accep-

::Don’t worry, baby, it’s all temporary::

Damn heart/goblin.

You sit on the wooden barstool, laughter and rowdy music simultaneously provoking and calming the mean thing that resides within your rib cage.

Even with the rise and quiet of your fear, you are completely taken with the humans sharing the small bar table with you. You wonder if they feel like the Othered as well- you recognize the shadows in their eyes but have never been ballsy enough to question them.

There are four people sitting at this tiny elevated table on tiny elevated backless stools. Three are marvelous interesting phenomenal humans, one is you.

You fiddle with the napkin that was once settled under your wet pint glass. Eventually, it will be shredded into tiny rolls of paper. Said tiny rolls of paper will be arranged into a word or a shape that represents how you feel in that moment. Whole becomes pieces becomes expression. How fitting.

You share a close space with Syd, the mighty They, with their colorful hair and sharp wit. They smile with FIRE next to you. Their shoulders keep beat to music and loudly shouted stories (how archaic of them), and they wiggle their pierced eyebrows at you fondly. Oh how your heart/goblin jumps. There really isn’t enough space for that.

The other two friends of unspecified gender gaze at each other. It is soft and delicate and so goddamn sweet, you could barf and die all at once.

“Let’s go to the bar and give them space”, Syd the Mighty whispers, words slightly smudged with liquor. You’re so eager to be included in such a beautiful conspiracy that your agreed nod almost knocks the damn head off your shoulders.

Gorgeous humans, you think as your eyes lovingly gaze on the maybe- almost -kinda -couple. Friends, please? Can we be friends? Who made my eyes wet?

“We are gonna go grab a drink!” Syd the Mighty proclaims as they stand, “You sexy bastards want another round?”

The Coupled nods, hands on the precipice of clasping next to their near empty glasses.

“Money, please,” Syd extends their hand the way that girl does from that show they introduced you to. It’s very funny. Syd is very funny.

“No, it’s okay, I have this one,” you finally manage to squeak out. You really hope it isn’t a squeak.

You did get the last round. And the round before that.

But their look of appreciation melts you so much you would empty your bank account just to see it over and over and over again.

They all lovingly extend their perfect human paws towards you, mewling their thanks, and you blush. This is what non-othered people must feel like. It’s addicting. You’d die for them, you decide. Granted, you tell your cat this every day, but it’s the thought that counts.

It takes a lot to make you angry.

Especially now. Why would you ever be angry when Syd’s blessed fingers graze your shoulder as they guide you towards the bar. Why would you ever be angry when they plop their arms down on the sticky wood and tell you how happy they are you joined tonight? Why would you ever be angry when they sweetly nuzzle your shoulder and offer the drunken wish that you’ll be friends forever (your heart/goblin screams).

Could this be your forever?

Belonging?

This is terrifying and exhilarating and probably normal for everyone else.

The two of you snuggle while waiting for the bartender and you could die right now. Syd holds a strength you wish you could inherit, and with this strength, they hold you with their shoulders.

Is this belonging?

Oh, it’s nice. Friends are nice.

::Be careful, little baby, you don’t know this world::

Damn this heart/goblin.

It always brings you back during the most beautiful moments. So what would one do with this moment after being interrupted by the violent goblin in your chest?

You ruin it.

::Hahahahahahaha!!::

You just need one little trigger- or a trigger in shape of a large sticky emboldened hand.

This hand, aggressive and male, lands hard on your lower back, a violent manifest destiny trying to claim your body. This man is groping you- openly-

You yelp is shock- the proud feminist warrior in you freezes and you realize she’s still a child. Damnit.

The sticky Christopher Columbus of hands then tries to claim more territory even as you back away in protest.

“Come ‘ere baby, is all good. Relax, I’m jus sayin hi.”

“Back the fuck up!”, Syd the Mighty yells- oh this wondrous hero- their tongue works, yours is stuck behind your clenched teeth.

Columbus the Gross drunkenly shouts in defense. Words like bitch, slut, and ugly, are cannoned towards the two of you. The bullets are exchanged, shots fired, bald spots are insulted, gender is questioned, your age, your weight, your existence is thrown into the battle field without mercy. Columbus shoves you into Syd and it doesn’t take much to throw off your balance. He’s then pulled away by a group of people you’ve never met. He may as well have been pulled in by a machine- each hand works as an individual within a practiced group. Four sets of hands that grab and yank like rogues in the night.

Syd lets out a victorious “HA!” as Columbus crumbles to the ground. He mumbles a few sexist and homophobic quips (lazily repeated, you might add). These words are meant to stab but they merely tumble out of his mouth in defeat, cluttering to the floor lamely. This should be as funny to you as it is to Syd. But your skin feels too infected.

It’s time to ruin things.

You wait for Columbus to retreat to his corner. You hand Syd your debit card, and tell them you absolutely must must must use the restroom. You even add a hip wiggle to make it more convincing. Syd playfully hollers their approval at your fake sexy shimmy.

And you RUN.

Off to the toilets and smelly tile and mirrors and closed off spaces.

::Run, you coward.::

It takes a lot to make you angry-

Apparently that’s because you’re too afraid to feel anything outside of Othered. You coward.

This smelly bathroom is your only sanctuary in the habitable world- there is no other place for you to go. All other spaces are occupied by the worthy-

::This is what you deserve::

The skin where his hand touched feels… slimy? Poisoned? Something that isn’t YOU anymore. It took you so long to claim your body back from the last encounter. That one was worse- shouldn’t you be used to this by now?

You hear a bang on the door and a drunken “fuck- hurry- I gotta piisssss”

You don’t deserve this sanctuary either.

You fix the hair and make up situation quickly, check you lower stomach for bloat by turning sideways. Yup, bloat still present. Great.

The pounding on the door continues until you finally open it to squeeze by the very drunk walking bladder. It’s blind to you so you slip down the hallway.

Maybe it’s time to leave- the music is too loud, the people are too people, and you can’t seem to human right.

As you walk towards the exit, head down, like the coward you are, you launch yourself into a large physical body. It was like running into soft brick- like an immovable sandcastle.

::You lowlife:: your goblin/heart chuckles.

Yeah, you are. So you apologize profusely. You’re already reeling from being friends with people, any other interaction would destroy you.

“Oh god- I am so sorry- I wasn’t looking- I’m just- this is- I’m sorry”

Large Physical Body places their hands on your shoulders. Large Physical Body leans their head forward in concern. Large Physical Body has a voice. And very deep brown eyes.

“Are you alright, hermosa?”

The fuck?!

Since when do gods roam?

He is… broad.

He owned one of the pair of hands (very large hands- oh heavens) that removed Columbus from his unsolicited voyage of you.

He is power.

He knows what a panic attack looks like.

You can’t answer.

But he holds you gently.

And you hear him.

“Are you okay, hermosa?”

Again he asks.

“I’m okay… just-“

Your stupid emotions breaking your voice. Why have human emotions when you can’t even human in social interactions?! This is just cruel.

“How about you breathe with me for a second?” He says, “I need to breathe, too. We can help each other.”

Wow, he’s good. He takes away the pressure of being taken care of- of being the burden. If he needs it too, you will do whatever “it” is.

So you nod and look into his eyes. You inspect his face. Brown eyes, curls hidden under a baseball cap, whiskers that would feel amazing scratching against your inner-

“Breathe in for 5,” He says, giant hands still resting on your shoulders. He counts while you inhale. “Hold for 5”. You hold your breath the way you wish he would hold you- tightly.

“And exhale for 5.”

Okay, that’s enough. This isn’t about him anymore and you can’t really handle being some strangers burden tonight.

“I’m okay. Thanks. That was just a lot”. You halfway smile to ease any worry he has. It doesn’t work. He’s still worried. Fuck.

“I get it,” He drops his hands from your shoulders and suddenly you’re very cold, “Us grabbing at him like that probably didn’t help. We can get a bit rowdy without thinking.”

You quietly chat with him and he makes you feel slightly more human. You converse like a normal person- well, as normal as you can be.

His name is Francisco. You can call him Catfish or Frankie. You opt for Frankie (although you make a compelling argument for Catnip- which he almost accepts).

He’s here with his friends, he had a rough day, he’s adamant he can turn you on to non-alcoholic beer (just not the yeasty sludge they serve here) and he likes the movie Cabin in the Woods just like you and you two loudly discuss the elevator scene.

After a few minutes or maybe longer of beautiful conversation, you hear both of your names being called. Syd and Frankie’s group are no longer at the bar but situated at your original table.

They had made fast friends.

When you go to sit, you sit next to Frankie. He pulls his stool to be an inch closer to you. You like that but don’t comment on it.

You learn Frankie’s friends and their partners names. Will and his partner, Vince- a beautiful statuesque blonde man with his smaller and leaner (although spicier) boyfriend. Santiago and his absolutely STUNNING date, Emilia- you’d watch that happen. (Oh my god, stop). Benny and his girlfriend, Jess, who looks like the only person who could beat him in a fight. You feel the only reason Columbus isn’t dead is because the men got to him before Jess did.

And then there’s Frankie. Next to you all warm and broad and being all genuine and kind. Damnit.

You wait for your heart/goblin to interrupt but it is blissfully silent.

And you sit with them. You laugh at their jokes. You make jokes back. Frankie’s knee touches yours under the table. You quiver. Vince and Syd immediately connect over music and art and drag shows. Jess would have you smitten if you weren’t already addicted to catnip (oh my god, stop).

Santiago- “Call me Pope, honey,”- Pope makes the most horrendous sex jokes and you find him all the more endearing for it. His date loves it. You hope it works out.

Frankie’s knee slides underneath yours and you quiver.

Your heart/goblin is still quiet. You completely forget you don’t belong. That glass wall… gone.

You belong.

Frankie’s hand rests on your knee as he asks you some wonderful and personal questions. You want another club soda cranberry but you don’t dare move in case everything changes.

Have you seen the new Evil Dead movie?

What’s your favorite genre of music?

Would you ever drive cross country, if so, which country?

You learn he’s a helicopter pilot and he loves The Eagles.

He wants to know if you like Indian food. You do? He knows of a great new spot that opened up last month. You wait for him to follow that up with something- like a freaking invitation- but he swallows whatever words he was about to say with a quick swallow of his gross yeasty sludgy non-alcoholic beer. His knee twitches underneath yours.

You realize-

He also has a heart/goblin. Oh. You wonder if his is as loud as yours.

Time to save him the way he saved you.

“Do you want to come with me?”

He nearly sputters, his eyes wide, his knee under yours suddenly becomes very active.

“I… what?” He says, having to shout a bit as whatever Syd and Vince are debating over is creating an enthusiastic and jovial response.

“To… um… Indian food. I think- I’m gonna go to that new place. The place you said that just opened. Do you wanna come?”

More laughter from the group but you’re able to hold the delicate space between the two of you.

His eyes don’t leave yours as his thumb caresses your knee. He smiles. Oh that smile could kill someone.

“Yes.”

For the remaining 30 minutes of the bars opening hours, his hand and knee never retreat.

You have never felt so deliciously human. Drinks are finished, numbers are exchanged (you’re pretty sure Syd and Vince will be in each others wedding parties), Benny and Jess very pointedly invite you to their barbecue next weekend, everyone except you and Frankie take a final round of tequila shots to solidify new friendship, and you all say goodbye.

Before you could order your Uber-

“Would you like a ride home, Hermosa?”

You wonder if you quiet his heart/goblin the way he quiets yours. The way he looks at you makes you think you might. He’s standing close, outside in the damp air. You hear the bartender lock the doors behind you.

“That would be really… nice.”

Ugh that killer smile. You’re dying, you’re dead. Can you still kiss that which kills you?

He goes to make some space in the passenger side seat in his truck. You take a peak- books, baby toys, cables, what you believe might be non-perishable groceries. Geez, why does THAT turn you on…?

Then you see it. Him.

Christopher Columbus himself.

Drunk, angry, slighted, masculinity wounded like a weak baby bird.

He walks towards you like he’s loaded. You see in the corner of your eye Frankie jolt and begin to rush towards him.

It takes a lot to make you angry.

You are not angry.

You are done.

And you punch him.

::Fuck yeah:: says your heart/goblin.

Columbus crumbles like a sack of something rotten and unwanted.

Frankie half escorts, half throws you into his passenger seat. Within seconds, he is peeling out of the parking lot. The song Witchy Woman by The Eagles is serenading you from his speakers- how fitting.

Is he angry? Is he disgusted? Is he upset he couldn’t demonstrate his manly manliness by punching him himself?

No.

Frankie is laughing. He is howling with joy. His hand punches the steering wheel and he jovially compliments your right hook. He’s celebrating you. That killer smile is still killing and it’s the best death you’ve ever had. He calls you “Bad ass”, “Queen”, “Mother fuckin powerhouse”.

“Hermosa”.

He hands you his phone.

“Put your address is, hermosa, so I know how to get you home.”

You hold the slightly cracked and mishandled devise in your unpunched hand- the maps app open and ready for you to end the night.

“Actually-“ you say after you dislodge your voice from its hiding place, “Can we go to yours…?”

Only the music responds. The Eagles.

Woo-hoo Witchy woman

She’s got the moon in her eyes

You wait in animated suspension. Even your heart/goblin waits.

“I would love that, Hermosa

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #future smut #anxiety #ptsd recovery #triple frontier #pedro pascal #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you

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princessmisery666 · 1 year

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PM666Reads - Fic Recs - January 2023

I didn't read that much in January, sorry. I will try to do better in February.

Fic Title - Author - Summary & warnings (if any) copied from author original post.

📖Dean Winchester

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas (parts 5-7)- @deanwinchesterswitch - Summary: Dean receives a gift but isn’t pleased about the proviso… until he hears about the compensation. Warnings: Flirting and more flirting; Implied sex (lots of it); Some angst was thrown in for good measure; Canon divergence

If We Make It Through December - @minefield-of-a-ninja - Prompt from @thesassywallflower for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday. Chapter warnings/tags: finale-fix it, there was no rebar, explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Baby I Surrender - @girl-next-door-writes - Summary: Dean Winchester has a certain way of dealing with problems, either you fight them or you bottle them up and pretend they don’t exist. Either way, his latest problem looks like neither of these responses will provide a solution, so what if he just surrenders?

Rainy Days & Mondays - @kellyn1604 - Summary- You and Dean reminisce about your childhoods and decide it’s never too late to play in the rain. Warnings- Little bit of angst, mutual pining, fluff

📖Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

You Don't Own Me - @justagirlinafandomworld - Prompt: “It’s just apple cider. I promise.” Warnings: Dubcon, violence, adult themes (aka sex but not explicit), daddy issues with Crowley as reader’s dad.

📖Sam Winchester

Don't Call Me Sammy - @carryonmywaywardwriters - Warnings: Oral sex- female receiving. No plot, really. Short sweet, and straight to the point. No real editing. Read at your own discretion.

📖Jake ' Hangman' Seresin

North Star - @violentdelightsandviolentends - It's New Years Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

📖Andy Barber

To Love Me Is To Drown series - @cockslutpadalecki - Summary: When exactly does love turn into obsession? Warnings: student/teacher relationship, non-con/dub-con, explicit sexual content, mentions of prescription drug use, somnophilia, cheating, reader is 18, dark!reader, female masturbation, obsessive behaviour, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), blackmail, daddy kink, cream pie, sexual tension, Andy being the best goddamn teacher ever (you’ll see), hand jobs, nipple sucking, brief insight to reader’s unhinged yet impressionable mind, bit of cum eating, cum swallowing, possessive behaviour, jealousy, mild gaslighting, mentions of violence, blow jobs, angry Andy, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, reader loses the plot, stalking, angst, heartbreak, real Fatal Attraction vibes, forced orgasm, hate fucking, overstimuation, squirting, 18+. MINORS DNI. Please assume warnings apply to all parts.

📖Steve Rogers

Looks Better On You - @navybrat817 - Summary: Steve can’t stop thinking about how good you look in his shirts. Warnings: Mentions of explicit sexual content, referenced vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), a bit of fluff, talks of having a family, slight feels (it’s me), Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?).

Hymnostic - @heli0s-writes - I would sacrifice like thirty virgins for a Steve body worship fic 🥲 (Also I agree with u he would be more of a giver than a receiver imo).

📖Bucky Barnes

Ravenous - @navybrat817 - Summary: Bucky has a big appetite. Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, implied oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).

📖Thor Odinson

Beautiful View From The Backseat - @cockslutpadalecki - Summary: Some mortal things, Thor can get used to. Except traffic jams. Warnings: explicit sexual content, semi-public sex acts, thigh riding, female orgasm, implied sex. MINORS DNI.

#pm666reads #fic recs #fic recs master list #supernatural #marvel #defending jacob #top gun maverick

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bengiyo · 1 year

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Happy Ending Romance Eps 7 & 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Unfortunately, I lost the first version of this post after episode 7 ended. I'll do a quick scroll through that episode and rebuild some of my thoughts, but it's a loss.

Episode 7

I was really looking forward to this quartet working together, but Wu Ju has been turned.

This seating arrangement with the two sofas and armchair shows up a lot in Kdrama. Can someone explain why they're always arranged this way in offices?

We had two different "please take good care of me" exchanges, and only one of them felt genuine.

Han Tae Young is remarkably earnest, and I liked the spit it out scene.

Editor Yeong Seon is honestly fantastic. Telling someone you want them to be miserable takes a level of offense I respect.

All successful writers do is attend meetings. Jung Hyun's never writing.

I really like this first kiss. I like that Han Tae Young asked to kiss him after weeks of professing his love. They haven't beaten the TMS guys, but it was nice.

Another goddamn meeting.

I expected the reveal that Jung Woo was ghostwriting, but the reveal that it's what he outed that other writer for makes me wonder what the point was of going public in the first place.

I think Jung Hyun means it when he says he wants to protect Jung Woo, bit I think it inevitably infantilizes Jung Woo. He's never required to face anything, and still they both suffer.

I like the use of a bridge for a sad moment for Jung Woo. He can't go back now that everything is in the open.

Love that Han Tae Young was only worried that Jung Woo had left him again. We even get a pretty decent second kiss.

Episode 8

I really like the arty bed scene. There's been a lot of angst and long-term pining hanging over this, so this works. I also like it because this doesn't feel like a first-time-with-another-man experience for either of them.

For all that Kim Jung Hyun irritates me, Leo has done a great job embodying this character.

I can't believe a writer left his computer unsecured.

I feel for Yeong Seon. She keeps getting caught in all this drama.

I have enjoyed how when Korea does a love triangle, it's complicated by the different ways people love the same person and whether that might be best for the parties involved.

I'm wondering now if the professor figured out they were ghostwriting and blackmailed Jung Hyun.

It's a unique feeling of relief to see Kim Jung Hyun let go and team up with Han Tae Young. Now we've got a full party.

Oh, the professor didn't know.

There's a lot happening in this spiral just for Cha Jung Woo to end up back at Literature Square again.

The smash cut from the dour party to Jung Woo yelling was well done.

Hey, this non-fight is really good. Karam has done a solid job with a rather subdued character in Jung Woo. He's stepped up his expressiveness at this point and it works so well.

I loved this framing with the bus stop to place Jung Hyun on the outside.

Of course Jung Woo isn't going to let someone else sacrifice himself at this point.

Leo is good. I felt sympathy for Jung Hyun's relief that something he wrote on his own strength was good. I'm even glad he reconciled with Yeong Seon.

Man, I like that they let us know that the book worked out, and I like seeing Jung Hyun agreeing to work with Tae Young. This joke flirting between all of them at the end is a lovely touch.

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended. I think there are some shaky bits early on; I wasn't sure what I wanted to care about. Still, I like the ideas in this about the need to face pain and fear, and how trying to protect people from any disappointment can sometimes make things worse. I also enjoyed a lot of the dynamics, though I felt some emotional hand offs were missing. I will say I found a lot of the cross-cutting between scenes to be a bit distracting, and sometimes made it hard to focus.

#happy ending romance #korean bl #bl series #Ben watches

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cloudydreams21 · 2 years

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No Turning Back

Still setting the scene! The first three chapters were part of one big one, but I've decided to operate them into to different chapters for now.

Chapter Song: Them Changes-Thundercat

Check out my Archive of Our Own and Wattpad under the same username cloudydreams21 ☁️

Ricked Cocktails

Chapter 2|Part 2

Rick had settled himself in some bar called 'Ricked Cocktails', hoping to fuel his self-loathing. I mean, if you want to punish yourself, a bar filled to the brim with drunken versions of yourself must be ideal.

The Ricks a few seats over on the circular bar seemed to be engrossed in a conversation, C-149 listened in.

"T-the Rick who works with me, a-after work I saw- I watched him get in a ship with one of them, g-goddamn I was so fucking jealous." The Rick groaned taking a long draw a cocktail called the Rickleberry.

C-149 rolled his eyes. 'God, these Ricks are fucking desperate.' Rick let out a chuckle to himself before tipping his glass of vodka down his throat and ordering another one. Vodka always seemed to be his go to when filling his flask. The bartender, who happened to be a Morty, measured out a double. But before he could place the bottle back behind the bar, Rick had whipped it out of his hands and took a swig. As the Morty began to complain, a bartending Rick cut him off with a stern glare. He then turned to C-149 offering a curt nod, before going back to make more cocktails for the slew of inebriated Ricks.

Rick C-149, happy with this turn of events, continued to eavesdrop.

"I a-always use my interdimensional goggles, at least one-once a week. Only way I can get a peek at that s-s-sweeeeet ass." He snorted as the other Rick joined in.

C-149 was familiar with interdimensional goggles. He had created his own pair maybe seven or eight years ago. After perfecting them he saw through the eyes of another Rick, Rick B-814. He was sat at a dining table for a meal. His adult daughter Beth was there, along with her idiot husband Jerry, Summer who was maybe ten years old and, Morty who couldn't have been older than seven. There was young woman there too, around the same age as Beth was, who sat right next to him. She looked at him with soft smiling eyes and B-184 seemed to return the smile.

Feeling nauseated from his lack of self-discipline, C-149 had ripped the goggles off and cursed himself for his curiosity before locking them away, he didn't need to see their lives. He hadn't even questioned who that young woman was, assuming she was perhaps a family friend. But he couldn't help but notice her strange beauty that had briefly dazzled him. How had he not connected the dots when visiting the Citadel just a couple of years later.

"Yeah, y-you know – I-It's like that body was moulded by Ricks. Mwah!" He paused to chef's kiss. "Christ, I mean if I hadn't chosen to live here."

The other Rick offered a rebuttal chuckling. "Nah seems like a lot of hassle. R-ricks are – we – we're meant to be alone. E-even so most of the Ricks th-that do end up meeting theirs were the ones that didn't abandon their B*ruuerp*eth when she was a teenager. I think most of them- t-they met when she was twenty *ruuerp* or something. Which cancelled out most of us l-living on the Citadel by that p-point. E-either way most of them ended up in some fucked up hateful lover's bullshit, or 'looove'-ing her..." The sarcasm dripped from his lips. "-or-or well, fuck— fuck knows, some never pursued anything with her, preferring to keep their distance, still pinning to this day. They are much worse off than you'd think. Those of us who never met her are l-lucky compared to those poor bastards. C-can you imagine, a Rick, pining? Oh a- and others...I guess some Ricks could still have yet to meet theirs." He concluded, finally finishing his rambling.

Rick C-149 rolled his eyes and got up to leave. He began toppling off his stool but saved himself before he hit the floor. Pleased that the vodka was finally having an effect, he made sure to snatch the bottle off the bar before making his way outside.

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pale-silver-comb · 4 years

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So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals.

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong.

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day.

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.)

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #nate ford #talk leverage to me

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Note

Please do 61 with Ransom.

61) “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.”

Hmmm, more OTP for all you lovely hoes! You nonnies just keep lobbing em right at me.

This ended up sparking something in me and I ended up writing a full length fic about more escapades with the asshole bunch.

Tagging my babes @chrissquares @stargazingfangirl18 (I’m targeting you a little with this one Siri cuz lacrosse Ransom is def wearing Fila) @subtlebucky @egcdeath

Quick, dirty, outdoor smut!!! No minors!!!

You and Ransom had decided to meet at the park with the other couples in his little asshole group of friends.

It was finally starting to warm up some, and when the boys had brought up getting out the sticks for some lacrosse you had jumped on it. Ransom didn’t have the balls to tell you it was really just a guy thing, you looked so excited about it.

He parked the beemer at the park entrance and grinned when he saw your Volvo already there. He grabbed his sticks and the cooler full of beer from the trunk and headed towards the field where he saw the rest of you gathered.

He groaned as he drew closer and finally got a good look at you as you waved at him. You looked like a preppy dream in a polo shirt and tiny shorts, a headband around your forehead and knee high socks under your cleats.

“Hey baby!” You said giddily as you ran towards him with your stick slung over your shoulders. “Can you believe I still fit in my high school uniform?”

“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously sweetheart.” He grinned, dropping the cooler and catching you when you jumped into his arms and pressed your lips to his with a satisfied hum.

“Says the man who showed up wearing his letterman’s jacket.” You teased as you hopped down and helped him carry the cooler the rest of the way.

“Yeah? Well if you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.” He purred in your ear as you set down the cooler, wrapping his stick around your back and drawing you close.

“Ha! I’m not playing lacrosse in pants, Hugh!” You said with a shake of your head. “But keep that in mind for later. Can you believe none of the other girls brought sticks?”

“Honey, none of them play lacrosse.” He chided as he watched you stretch.

“Well then what’s the point of... oh goddamn it!” You rolled your eyes as you stood up. “This was supposed to be another boy’s outing where I sit with the other girls and get wine drunk wasn’t it? Don’t answer that! Chauvinist assholes...”

He just chuckled as he watched you mutter to yourself angrily, grabbing your extra sticks and storming off towards the other girls, gesturing wildly as you tried to go over the basics with them.

“So, the girls are playing then?” Dylan asked as he came to stand by Ransom, grabbing an IPA from the cooler and taking a gulp.

“Sure seems that way.” Ran answered as he watched you shove a stick at Lexi and make a throwing motion that she tried to emulate feebly.

“Is this gonna be another day of your girlfriend showing us all up, Drysdale?” Chaz asked as he joined the two of them, chuckling as they tried to figure out exactly what you were trying to instruct the girls on now. “Cuz I don’t think my ego can take it.”

“I dunno what to tell you man.” Ran said with a shrug, grabbing himself a beer and drinking deep. “Quit inviting us to this shit if you don’t want her to hand your ass back to you.”

“Alright douchebags, lets play some lacrosse!” You screamed at them, a massive grin splitting your face.

“I can’t decide if having her on my team or playing against her will be worse.” Logan groaned as the four men walked towards the field apprehensively.

“Alright, should we split this up by couples or what?” Dylan asked as Lexi moved to stand next to him.

“Sounds good to me.” You beamed.

“Great, so Y/N, Ran , Chaz and Brit, you guys can play together and me, Jess, Logan, and Lex will be the other team. Girls play defense.”

“Sounds good.” Ran said fast before you had a chance to start an argument, guiding you away from the center of the field quickly.

“But I play attack, babe.” You whined as he walked next to you and stopped in front of the goal.

“Yeah, I think that you playing attack might be a little too much all at once sweetie.” He said with a shrug as he moved to middle position. “Just channel that frustration babe, you’ll do great!”

You just chewed on your lip as you watched Logan and Chaz grapple for the ball. Logan won out, barreling over Chaz and spinning past Ran like a pro. You smirked as you pivoted towards him, bracing yourself as you charged each other.

He shifted his weight to spin around you and you grinned before full body checking him, ripping the stick out of his hand and helicoptering it out of his grip as you tossed him over your shoulder. You scooped the ball up and lobbed it to Ransom as you sprinted up the field. He passed it back to you when Dylan tried to take him down and you snatched it out of the air before diving around a confused looking Lexi and chucking the ball at the net, grinning when it sailed past Jess for a point.

“Goddamn it!” Dylan groaned as you jogged past him back to your position, giving Ransom a celebratory high five that he followed up with a smack on the ass as he grinned at you.

Logan was still trying to stand up as you returned to your defensive position, glaring at you as he ran a hand through his hair.

“How the fuck was that not a foul?!” He seethed at you.

“A foul?!” You shouted with an air of disdain. “Don’t be a pussy Van Doren! You bring that weak shit to my house and I’m serving it right back to you! Right babe?”

“That’s right babe!” Ran shouted back to you as he shrugged apologetically at Logan when he stalked past him.

The rest of the game went about the same, you hardly let anyone past and Logan flinched so bad every time you got near him it was easy for your team to dominate. Dylan finally called a stop after an hour, he and Logan covered in dirt and bruises from the rough play.

“That’s it, we’re done. I need a fucking drink.” He huffed as he dragged himself off the field, Lexi bouncing next to him excitedly. Apparently, one of the things you had been teaching the girls was how to hit, and she had cracked Chaz and Ransom a couple of times. You grinned and congratulated her and the other girls on a game well played as you moved to grab a porter from the cooler.

“Jesus Christ, Drysdale. That woman is a damn menace.” Logan groaned as he grabbed a bag of ice and pressed it against his ribs.

“Yeah, how the fuck do you keep up with her?” Chaz asked, shaking his head as sipped his lager. “She’s barely sweating.”

“I don’t even know man.” He said with a shrug, gasping for air as he chugged his IPA. “She’s a fucking pistol.”

“Not the word I’d use but whatever.” Logan said, annoyed at you two.

“Shut up, L, you’re just pissed she beat the shit out of you.” Dylan said with a grin. “Where you going, Ran?”

“Gotta take a leak!” Ransom lied as he jerked his head towards the trees suggestively after making eye contact with you.

“Scuse me gals, I gotta help Hugh with something.” You said around a grin after chugging the rest of your beer.

“Jesus, you two will do it anywhere, huh?” Brittney said with an eye roll.

You just shrugged at her as you jogged after Ransom towards the small clutch of pines.

Ransom grabbed you around your waist and swung you off your feet when you reached him, making you squeal before he smashed his lips against yours.

“You were amazing.” He purred as he pressed you up against a tree, running his lips up and down your throat and making you whine.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking legend babe. I told you.” You muttered around a grin. “Did you see those hits I landed?”

“Mmhm, sure did.” He mumbled, nipping at the hollow behind your ear that he knew drove you crazy as his hips ground against you.

“You ever eat a legend’s pussy, Hugh?” You teased, starting to shove his head down between your legs.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Y/N!” He whined as you forced him to his knees. “I was kinda hoping we could both get something out of this.”

“Sorry babe, middle gets whatever attack says they get.” You said with a shrug as you slid your shorts off and hooked your leg over his shoulder. “Make me come with that pretty mouth and maybe I’ll let you get your dick wet.”

“Bitch.” He murmured as he started brushing his lips over your inner thigh, no real malice in his tone as he gazed at you through his lashes.

“That’s right Hugh, I’m the fucking bitch. Now lick it.”

He ran his nose over your clothed core and inhaled deeply before shoving your panties aside. You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your slit, lapping up the evidence of your arousal before swirling his tongue through your folds.

His hands moved under your ass and tilted your hips towards his face, giving him even more access to your dripping heat. Your fingers gripped his hair painfully when he flicked his tongue over your asshole in a quick series of kitten licks before moving it in a heavy stripe back up to your clit.

You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming when he slid a finger inside you, curling it in a come hither motion at the same time he pressed his tongue against your clit. He lashed your bundle of nerves lightly as you writhed against him, your head thumping back against the tree as he slipped in a second finger.

His lips wrapped around your clit as he started fucking you with his digits, curling and twisting them inside you so he hit every spot he knew would drive you absolutely crazy. You felt him grin against you as he shook his head to bury himself deeper in your folds, groaning when he felt you clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, Ransom! I’m so close.” You panted breathlessly, grinding your pussy into his face as you neared the edge.

You felt him slide his pinky into your puckered hole, spearing past the tight ring of muscle until you felt the cool metal of his ring against your entrance and you fucking lost it.

Your thighs tried to crush his skull as you came violently, somehow managing to swallow the shriek that tried to rip out of your chest. He moaned as he ran his tongue over your pussy to collect your release as it ran over his fingers while you clenched and fluttered around him.

“How was that, champ?” He said around a wicked grin once you finally released his head, sliding his hands up your body as he stood up.

“Good... it was good.” You panted as he buried his face in your neck.

“Yeah? Good enough for you to help me out, babe?” He asked, grinding his hips into you to show you how hard he was at the same time he wrenched your polo and sports bra up to expose your breasts.

“I think we can work something out.” You murmured as he palmed your breast with one hand while the other splayed over your ass.

“What did you have in mind, sweetheart?” He hummed as his lips moved over your throat softly.

“Oh, I dunno. Something extra special for my favorite middle.” You purred, pushing him away from you a little bit so you could turn around.

“Fuck, really?” He beamed, running his hand over your ass as he pressed you into the tree.

“Really, you did such a good job, baby, you deserve a reward.” You said as you peeked are him over your shoulder. “Now fuck my ass until I come again, Hugh.”

He chuckled darkly into your hair as he slid his shorts down his legs and drew his cock out of his boxer briefs. You moaned as he ran his length through your slick before he pressed his tip against your pretty hole. The groan he let out as he speared into you made your pussy clench around nothing, fluttering as your body tried to draw him as deep as possible until he was fully sheathed in you and his hips were resting against your ass.

“Shit. Oh my god.” He hissed into your shoulder as he stilled his hips for a beat. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled as the tree bark scratched at your cheek. “Could you move? I’d like to have another orgasm sometime before noon.”

“So fucking bossy.” He groaned before sliding out of you halfway and slamming back into you, making you yelp.

You moaned as he finally started fucking you, his hips moving at a vicious pace as he bounced you against the tree. He wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed lightly as he drew you back against his chest.

“Love when you let me fuck your ass, baby.” He growled in your ear as his hips slapped against your cheeks, making you mewl as slick started leaking down your thighs from your aching pussy. “Love how wet you get and how you strangle my cock. You want my fingers in that tight little pussy?”

“Yeah.” You whined as he teased his fingers over your clit. “Need you in my pussy so bad Ran, I’m gonna come.”

He sucked your earlobe between his teeth and spanked your pussy before shoving three fingers inside you as you came with a shriek, your body arching against him as you spasmed uncontrollably.

“Jesus, you’re squeezing me so good.” He groaned as you came down, sobbing with pleasure and sagging against him. “I’m gonna fill this ass up.”

You felt his cock throbbing inside you at the same time he twisted his fingers and you screamed, your release gushing out of you and soaking his thighs as he filled you with his spend, pressing you against the tree and sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his hips jerked. He groaned into your hair as he shoved his cum deep inside you and pulled his fingers from your swollen cunt.

“Holy fuck.” He mumbled into your hair before sucking his fingers into his mouth and groaning at your taste.

“Yeah.” You murmured as you yanked your bra and shirt back down and pulled your panties back into place before bending over to slide your shorts back on. “You should’ve lettered in that.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: Not just regular assholes, preppy jock assholes!!!

#natalie answers #smut prompts #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom smut #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #do not interact if you are a minor

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theclawofaraven · 2 years

Text

addicted - baekhyun au - part 3 (m)

pairing: singer! baekhyun x reader

genre: angst, slow burn, light fluff, slice of life, smut, mutual pining

words: 4.7K

warnings: cursing, angst, smut, face-sitting, alcohol consumption

a/n: and as promised part 3 is here. thank you to the sweetest peeps who respond and give me love! if you’re reading this know i love you ;) any kind of feedback or suggestion is appreciated!

part 3

Y/N’s POV

It had been almost two weeks since Baekhyun left, and I was rather surprised by the lack of contact we had since then. I sent him a simple “goodbye” text the day he left, but he never said anything back. This confused me as I didn’t think I’d done anything to piss him off, and he seemed pretty interested in me, but maybe I was wrong. He probably had someone to replace me wherever it is he went to and didn’t care about me anymore. That’s probably what it is, I decided. I was just someone to fuck around with while he was away. Not that I was overly upset about this; after all, that’s what it was supposed to be anyways.

So it definitely came as a surprise when I finished work and saw a text from him:

‘I miss you’

This was definitely strange coming from someone who was avoiding contact for well over a week. I didn’t even know how to respond; I missed him too, but it was his fault for not responding to me in the first place.

‘really? I thought you were pissed off at me considering your lack of response when you left’, I texted back once I arrived home, feeling a little agitated because I knew the only reason why he was initiating contact now was because he wanted someone to sleep with.

‘I know, and I probably shouldn’t be texting you now anyways but I can’t help it’

‘so why are you then? none of your other fuck buddies free?’

‘please. it’s not hard for me to find someone to sleep with. I’d just rather it be you Y/N. I need to see you’

At this point I wanted to roll my eyes back into my head and just leave the conversation at that, but I responded anyways:

‘not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re quite far away from me so that’s not going to work very well. find someone else’

It took a little longer for a reply from him this time.

‘whoa, okay? why are you so bitter?’

By then I was livid. How could someone be so goddamn dense? I thought as I typed out a text back.

‘I’m bitter because it took you two weeks to respond to my fucking text and the only reason why you’re responding to me now is because you’re horny. fuck you seriously’

A few minutes passed and I still hadn’t received a text back from him. I assumed he finally got the point and decided to leave me alone.

Apparently I was wrong.

My phone began ringing, and I looked down to see who I already anticipated it would be.

“What?” I answered angrily.

“Look, I’m sorry if I pissed you off, but even if you don’t wanna fuck again I don’t want to leave things on bad terms.” Baekhyun spoke, his voice slurring a bit. “The reason why I didn’t text you back was because I was trying to cut things off with you. Seulgi made it pretty clear that she didn’t want me around you, and the easiest way I could think of was avoidance. That didn’t work because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m obsessed with the thought of you Y/N. Specifically the thought of you underneath me.”

“Are you drunk?” I asked him after I processed all that information, unable to think of anything else to say.

I heard him exhale, a long pause following. “That’s not really important. Are… Umm… Are you still pissed off?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “I’m sorry for making you mad.”

“You should really get some sleep, B,” I said, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” he paused for a while, and I thought he might have hung up until he finally spoke. “Can I see you again?”

“By see you mean fuck, right?” I asked.

He laughed for a second time. “Maybe. I just want to see you again. I’m sorry for being such a douchebag but I just… I can’t get you off my mind and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Sleep this off and we’ll see if you still want me in the morning. Goodnight, B.” I responded, ending the call before he could say anything else.

Sighing, I set my phone down on my end table, crawling into bed. Suddenly, I heard my door creak open, a dull light illuminating the floor in front of it. I could see the outline of someone standing there, and it took a minute before they spoke.

“Are you okay?”

I moved my arm over my face, blocking out the light. “I’m fine, Seulgi. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just heard-“

“I’m fine,” I spoke, my tone slightly annoyed, “Just… Leave me alone.”

“Okay…” she trailed off, giving up on trying to get me to say anything. “We’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight Y/N.”

With that, she closed the door behind her, and I heard her go down the hall to her room, the door opening and closing. I closed my eyes once again, trying to block out all the thoughts of Baekhyun running through my head. Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep.

I woke up the next morning, hearing my phone buzzing on my end table. Reaching over, I glanced at the screen to see that I had received a new text. Of course, it was from Baekhyun.

‘I’m sober now and guess what? I still want you’

I couldn’t stop the laughter rising in my chest. I was in disbelief at how desperate he was, especially since he didn’t exactly come across as the type to behave in this manner.

‘and I’m still far far away from you’ I texted back.

‘I need to get you underneath me somehow’

‘you’re being unrealistic’

‘can you at least send me some pictures then? ;)’

I laughed to myself, setting my phone back on the table, not replying. Picturing him waiting for my response that wasn’t coming anytime soon contented me in a sick, twisted sort of way.

I rolled out of bed, stretching before wandering out into the kitchen. Seulgi stood at the counter, her back towards me. As she heard me approaching, she turned around, looking me up and down.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I shrugged indifferently, reaching above her to pull down a coffee mug from the cupboard, filling it up from the freshly brewed pot. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I took a small sip of my black coffee as she eyed me curiously, as if trying to find a hint in my expression or body language that I was not telling the truth.

“Well, I mean last night…” she trailed off. “You sounded pretty upset on the phone. Were you talking… Were you talking to B?”

I nodded, climbing onto one of the bar stools at the small island in the middle of the kitchen. “Yeah, I was.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, what now?” Seulgi asked, rolling her eyes in disapproval. Her tone made me a little angry.

“It’s nothing. He just… He wants to see me again,” I responded truthfully, regretting it the instant it came out of my mouth because I knew it would result in an argument.

“Seriously?” her voice was raised in disbelief. “And do you want to see him again?”

I shrugged, sipping on my coffee again. “Maybe, I guess. I don’t know, I-“

She cut me off abruptly. “Oh, fuck, Y/N. Please.”

“What?” I became slightly defensive. “What’s the harm in hooking up?”

The fact that she was getting so pissed off made me want to rebel against her even more. I was getting sick of her treating me like a child, and it was only further fueling my already pretty strong desire to climb back in bet with Baekhyun.

“What’s the harm in hooking up?” she reiterated, a single laugh expelling from her chest. “There’s no harm, Y/N, except it’s with him. I fucking told you this already, and I’m not going to tell you again. Go be stupid and sleep with him again, I don’t fucking care anymore.”

“Seriously, fuck you Seulgi,” I practically spat at her, pushing myself away from the island, getting down and stomping back to my room. She followed me, standing in the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked me as I typed away on my phone.

“Go away,” I muttered, pressing send on the message.

‘maybe I’ll just give you the real thing’

Not even an hour later, after finding out that Baekhyun was now back home, I arrived in Bucheon. I couldn’t fucking believe that I had given in, again; after all, pissing Baekhyun off with the fact that he couldn’t see me made me incredibly pleased with myself, but I couldn’t deny that I needed him probably almost as much as he was letting on he needed me. After wandering around for a few moments, trying to find his frame in the crowds of people in our meeting spot, I finally spotted him. I began walking toward him, and he caugh sight of me as well. As I got closer to him, I noticed the slight smirk forming on his face.

He grabbed my hips, pulling me closer to him, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “What made you change your mind?”

I half-shrugged, my breath still caught in my throat as I looked up at him, his gaze fixed on me. “I…”

He laughed, and the sound of it made me want to jump him in the middle of the street. “Shit, I don’t care why, I’m just glad you did.”

“Can we… Uh… Can we leave please?” I stuttered, clutching the strap of my bag closer to me.

“You’re the cutest thing, seriously,” he murmured, his hand moving to my face, cupping my cheek before letting it fall. I felt my heart racing, which confused me. I didn’t think I was that nervous, but then again, Baekhyun did intimidate me a bit. I hated that he made me feel this way. “Alright, lets’ go.”

We made our way into his car. After driving for a few minutes, I felt his hand make its way onto my thigh. I instinctively pushed it away. “Stop that.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb across it. “Stop what?”

“Can you just keep both hands on the steering wheel and drive please?” I asked, grabbing his hand and forcing it off of me. It pissed me off that whenever I had the slightest upper hand, he always found a way to take over again. Just as I thought I had some sort of handle on him, there he was to prove that he was the one in control.

He glanced over at me, shaking his head before dramatically clenching the steering wheel with both hands. “Better?”

“You’re stupid,” I mumbled, looking out the window.

He laughed loudly as he turned into a parking lot. “Alright, we’re here, anyways.”

After we got out of the car, we made our way into the building and onto an elevator, going all the way to the top floor.

“A penthouse apartment?” I spoke in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

As I took it all in, I almost felt somewhat embarrassed of mine and Seulgi’s tiny, humble apartment.

He shrugged, “It’s nice enough, I guess. I’m not home enough to enjoy it, really.”

I shook my head. “This is insane.”

I walked further in, observing the elaborate living room.

He suddenly grabbed my waist, catching me off guard. “You know what’s really insane? The fact that you still haven’t let me kiss you yet and I’ve been in your presence for like a half hour.”

I laughed, standing on my tiptoes as I tangled my fingers in his hair. “You’re right.”

“Mhmmmm,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against mine.

I pushed him down onto a nearby couch, climbing onto his lap, not once breaking the kiss.

“Shit,” he breathed against my lips as I moved my hips against his. He made quick work pulling off my shirt and removing my bra, tossing them both to the side. Shortly after, his shirt joined my clothing items in the growing pile on the floor. He grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to him so our chests were pressed together.

I shifted away slightly, biting his bottom lip, unbuckling his blet and sliding my hand into his pants.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, picking me up off of him and throwing me down onto the couch.

He climbed on top of me, his mouth quickly finding mine again. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I reached up to grab his head once more. He stopped me, taking me by surprise as he threaded his fingers through mine, pinning my hands onto the couch.

“Baekhyun,” I complained, struggling to release myself from his grip. He simply laughed, his mouth moving down my neck, trailing light kisses before his teeth sunk in at about the exact same spot as before, sucking lightly. His one hand released its grip, and he slowly moved it down my body, pushing off my shorts and underwear. The other hand settled on my waist, holding me in place.

“Oh, fuck,” I felt my breath hitch as he slid a finger inside me. Soon, he added a second, and I moaned, gripping his hair tightly as he slowly moved them in and out.

“I’m gonna stop,” he spoke, looking down at me.

“Oh, B. Don’t stop,” I sighed, my grip tightening. “Please don’t.”

He chuckled, removing his fingers and a slight unvoluntary whimper fell from my lips as a result of the loss. He brought the fingers up to his mouth, sucking them. “Mmmm, relax.”

“Holy shit,” I threw a hand over my face, averting my gaze.

“What?” he asked, taking my hand away.

“You are so fucking sexy and I just… I want… Whoa,” I stopped myself, realizing that I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“What do you want?” he questioned me, and I felt my whole body flush. “I want to sit on your face,” I stated bluntly, surprised with my confidence.

His jaw dropped, and his startled expression was soon replaced with that smirk; one that I had both grown to love and hate at the same time. “Wow, well okay.”

He laid back, grabbing my hips and positioning my body over his face.

“Wait, oh my God, Baekhyun,” I laughed in disbelief. “I didn’t really mean it!”

“Nuh-uh,” he chuckled. “You asked for it.”

He slowly flicked his tongue against me, and I moaned loudly, all uncertainty dissipating. “Oh, B. Oh Baekhyun.”

He laughed against me, which only increased the sensation. “Jesus Christ, Y/N. You said you wanted to sit on my face, so sit.” He grasped my hips, pulling me down to his face.

“Oh my fuck- holy shit. Yes,” I couldn’t even form a coherent word let alone a sentence. He was incredibly good at it and it made me wonder if there was anything that he couldn’t do.

He laughed again, sliding me off him a few moments later so I was underneath him once again. “Sorry, I gotta fuck you now before I lose my mind.”

He kicked off his pants, moving his mouth down to mine. “Oh, wait. Uh-“ I cut him off, pressing my mouth onto his, groaning.

“Fuck, that’s sexy as hell,” he muttered. “Where the fuck have you been all my life?”

I laughed, watching as he put the condom on.

He pressed himself against me, his eyes focused on mine. “Ready?”

I sighed, gripping the back of his neck. “Just fuck me already, B.”

“Sure thing,” he smirked again, sliding into me.

“Mmmm,” I moaned in complete bliss, closing my eyes.

“Hey,” he spoke, his voice rough sounding. “Look at me.”

He gripped my chin, and I opened my eyes to see his dark ones staring down at me. Just seeing him look at me like that made me want to come. His pace quickened gradually, going both harder and faster.

“Oh, fuck, Baekhyun,” I breathed, dragging my nails across his back.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, gripping my waist in one hand so he could pull me up closer to him.

Within a few moments, I let go, and he followed shortly afterward.

He exhaled audibly, pulling out before tossing the condom in a nearby garbage. “You are… Wow.”

“Yeah, same for you,” I spoke, still trying to catch my breath. “Sorry about your back and scalp.”

He laughed a bit. “No worries. I actually like it a lot.”

“Kinky fucker,” I joked, leaning forward to pick up my discarded clothing.

“Wait,” Baekhyun mumbled, moving to kiss me.

I placed a hand on his chest, pushing him away. “No.”

Standing up, I slipped on my undergarments before sliding my shirt over my head. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. I turned back toward him, and he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, now attired in a pair of boxers.

“Nothing,” I responded, moving my eyes over his apartment.

“Alright,” he dropped it rather quickly, which came as a relief to me. I didn’t want to tell him that I came here in the heat of the moment to spite Seulgi, and that I probably shouldn’t have. It wasn’t that I regretted it – I enjoyed having sex with him a lot – I just felt stupid for coming all the way to his place for a hookup. It just further solidified the strong hold he had on me, which only made me angrier at both myself and him.

“I still cannot believe that you came all the way over here just so I could fuck your brains out,” he chuckled, standing up and walking towards me.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have some business to attend to here in a couple of days, so I just changed the dates around. I accommodated for you, but I didn’t just come here solely for the purpose of letting you fuck me.” I lied.

“You accommodated for me, okay,” he repeated, laughing.

“Yes,” I began to wander through his spacious apartment, moving into the kitchen.

“What are you looking for? Are you hungry?” he asked me. It was kind of cute that he was showing he cared about me at least a little bit.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m… Okay, I know you to have alcohol here.”

“What?” he burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” I responded, turning back towards him.

He laughed again. “You know, you’re supposed to drink first and fuck second, but I guess I can make an exception.”

He disappeared for a few moments into what I assumed was some sort of man cave, coming back with a bottle of whiskey.

We sat out on his balcony for a while, watching the sun set. If it were different circumstances, I guess it could have been kind of romantic. He told me about how he had been in Seoul recording, and that he was going back on tour in about a week. I told him about the work I had lined up for me, which wasn’t as impressive, and how I wanted to eventually shift my focus on writing only. I didn’t know how much we ended up drinking, but the last thing I remembered was dozing off on Baekhyun’s couch.

Baekhyun’s POV

Y/N had passed out relatively quick. After a few moments when I was sure she was out, I picked her up, carrying her to my bedroom. After setting her down and pulling the covers up over her, I got into bed as well. This whole thing was extremely fucked up, and I hated myself for not being able to let her go. Both Chanyeol and Seulgi were right: someone was going to get fucked over in the end. Inevitably, it would probably be her, unfortunately. I never really had the attention span to stay invested in one particular girl, but for some reason, she had me captivated at that point. However, I knew that the second I got back on tour, my mind would probably change.

Relationships like these never worked out, and I knew that. I’d seen enough to know better, but at that point I just didn’t care. She was fun to fuck, and she made it pretty obvious she liked it, too. My head felt foggy, and thinking about all this just made me more confused. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy as well, and pretty soon I was out.

I woke up the next morning, glancing over at the clock to check the time. It was just after 10, and I looked over to see Y/N still fast asleep. Chuckling to myself, I moved the blanket off me slowly, careful not to disturb her. I made my way into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat as I was rather hungry. As I grabbed some cereal out of the cupboard, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turned around, seeing Y/N standing there.

“Well, good morning,” I spoke, smiling at her.

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “Why was I in your bed?”

“You passed out on my couch last night, so I put you there,” I responded, pouring some of the cereal into a bowl before adding some milk.

“Oh, fuck,” she put her hand on her forehead. “I didn’t even want to stay the night. I’m sorry. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea for what?” I questioned, grabbing a spoon. “Did you want some?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just… I mean the wrong idea that I’m gonna stick around here.”

“So you were just gonna leave here fucked out of your mind last night?” I joked, shoveling some of my breakfast into my mouth.

“Well, no. I wasn’t planning on getting drunk that bad,” she sighed, and I chuckled a bit in response.

“Sure you don’t want some?” I mumbled through a mouthful.

“Not of that, no,” she responded, her tone almost suggestive.

“What are you implying?” I asked, sounding equally as suggestive.

She smirked, moving over to me and climbing into my lap. “Mmm, I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, just before she pressed her lips onto mine. My hands moved to her hips as she tugged on my hair gently.

After a few moments, she pulled away, climbing off of me.

“Seriously?” I ran a hand through my hair. “You frustrate me to no end, you know that?”

“Good, that means I’m doing my job,” she laughed. “I think I’m going to go now, though.”

“What? Can’t you stay for a little longer?” I asked. Fuck, I sounded so desperate, but I didn’t really care if it meant she would stay.

“No,” she spoke firmly, which surprised me a bit. “This isn’t gonna become a habit, B. I can’t do it. You can’t do it. We both know that.”

“But…” I trailed off, standing up and moving over to her before placing my hands on her face. “I think we’ve already kind of made a habit out of it, don’t you think?”

She shook her head, looking up at me. “You told me that you’ll be going back on tour in a week, and I’ve got my stuff going on. You’ll find someone new to fuck and I’ll be old news.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” I proposed. “It’ll be fun and we can fuck all the time. Win win.”

She laughed a bit, pulling away from me. “I’m not going on tour with you just so I can be your sex toy for two months. It’s not happening. Besides, I have a life and a job too, you know.”

She moved over to the door where she had dropped her bag the night before.

“Ugh, don’t do this to me Y/N,” I groaned, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to me before she could pick up her belongings.

“B, let me go. Your cereal is gonna get soggy,” she complained.

“I don’t care,” I retorted, pausing for a moment. “Can we at least fuck when I get back?”

She shrugged, trying to free herself from my grip. “Like I said, you’ll find lots of new girls to mess around with when you’re gone and I’ll be a thing of the past. Goodbye Baekhyun.”

“I highly doubt that. You’re stuck in my head, Y/N… It doesn’t even bother me that you call me by my name, it’s kind of endearing actually,” I let out a sad chuckle and ran a hand through my hair looking down, my mind racing. “Fuck. Well, I’m not gonna stop you if you wanna leave, but can I at least kiss you goodbye?” I asked.

She grabbed my neck in response, pulling me down to her so our lips met. I gripped her waist tightly, not wanting to let her go. It confused me how attached I’d grown to her in such a short period of time. I didn’t really like feeling this way, that was for sure. It made me feel like I was not in control, which wasn;t something I was accustomed to.

She broke the kiss just as I was getting into it, causing me to groan in frustration. “You’re a fucking tease.”

She smirked at me, retrieving her bag before taking a hold of the door handle. “Goodbye, B.”

As she began to walk away, I stood in the doorway, watching her. “Okay, well, stop by if you’re still around in a couple of days.”

“Goodbye, Baekhyun,” she repeated for a third time from down the hallway as she approached the elevator between the two penthouse apartments, not even looking back at me.

A few days had passed, and I spent them trying to prepare for the next tour: arranging set lists, getting things packed, and just making sure that everything was ready to go. There were only two days left until the first date and I was beginning to feel a bit anxious about it.

I hadn’t heard anything from Y/N since she left which sort of surprised me, but then again she was pretty good at the whole “hard to get” thing. After debating, I decided to send her a text.

‘how’d your “business” go?’

It took about ten minutes before she texted me back. ‘well, it went fine but it sure was fun trying to cover this up. fuck you’

Attached to the message was a photo of the multiple hickeys I gave her a few days prior. I couldn’t help but laugh even though it wasn’t all that funny, and it was especially apparent it wasn’t to her.

‘hahaha shit I’m sorry’

‘no you’re not’

‘are you still in bucheon area? wanna fuck again?’ I texted back, not dancing around the actual reason why we were having this conversation with small talk.

‘wow, B. nice to talk to you too!’ She responded, and I chuckled to myself.

‘sorry. hey Y/N, it’s great talking to you and I was just wondering if you wanna fuck’

‘I’m back in Seoul. tough luck ;)’

Fuck, I thought to myself. Of course she was. ‘seriously?’

‘seriously. guess you’ll have to make a stop on your tour if you wanna see me ;) ‘

I groaned in frustration. ‘the Seoul date isn’t till near the end of the tour. are you sure you can’t just come with me??’

‘I’m not going with you. I already told you that. I gotta go, I’m meeting a friend. bye B’

‘how the fuck am I supposed to go another month and a half without fucking you?’

She responded a few minutes later. ‘you’ll figure it out’

‘how?’ I texted back, but a reply never came. Hours passed, and still nothing. Even after I texted her for a second time, she still didn’t respond.

She was so damn good at this game she was playing, and I commended her for that, but it irritated me because I was used to being the one who acted like this. Seeing someone else do it made me angry, but at the same time, it just made me want her more. I was half-tempted to just go out there to see her before tour started, but I knew that’s what she expected me to do.

Like hell was I going to give in.

79 notes · View notes

spencerspecifics · 3 years

Note

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

196 notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Billy closed the front door behind him, the pine wreath jiggling as the door swung shut.

He took of his boots, leaving them next to Steve’s wet snow boots, smiling down and rolling his eyes fondly at the fancy fur-lined things.

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, no doubt on the phone. .

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. No, I don’t mind. Yeah. Mom, seriously, it’s alright. Just, uh, enjoy the trip. I’ll-yes. Yeah. I’m good! Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Alright, love you too. Yep. Bye now. Of course. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”

He was leaned against the wall next to the mounted phone, his back to the entry way.

He was twisting the chord around his wrist.

Billy liked to imagine Steve doing that whenever they spoke on the phone. Liked to imagine him twirling the chord around and blushing and getting all gooey.

Mostly because Steve was always so damn rigid when he spoke with his parents. So anxious and stiff.

He shook his hand free, placing the phone back on the hook and sighing deeply.

And then he sniffed.

Billy wrapped his arms around him from behind, and Steve didn’t waste a moment before leaning back against him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your mom talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve took a deep breath, turning in his arms to wrap his own arms around Billy’s shoulders, giving him his best attempt at a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

Steve leaned forward, ready to press his lips to Billy’s, only to have Billy lean back, avoiding him completely. He pouted at Billy.

“Tell me what’s up. Then you get a kiss.”

Steve’s pout just went deeper. Billy liked to pretend he was immune to those goddamn doe eyes. He absolutely was not.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nah, your parents are being shitty again, and I wanna know about it so I can make you feel better.”

And Steve melted, just a little bit at that.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Billy gasped dramatically.

“I would never.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s just, my mom and I have this tradition. Around Christmastime. We, you know. We go to the city, and do dinner, just the two of us. And we. God, it sounds so lame.” Billy pinched his side. Steve pulled his hair in retaliation. “And, wegototheballet.” Steve let his head flop onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Stevie, you got mush mouth there at the end.”

“We go to the freakin’ ballet, okay? We go to the ballet!” And Steve was pulling away, his face beet red, his arms wrapped around himself. “We do it every year, and have since I could sit through the fucking thing, and she’s not coming this year. And she said why don’t you take your girlfriend, Nancy? And I don’t know how many times I’ve told her that Nancy and I broke up, but she still just-” he cut himself off shaking his head. “It’s like, I know it’s fucking lame, but it’s my favorite part of Christmas. I look forward to it all damn year and we’re not going.”

And the thing on the tip of Billy’s tongue was Jesus, the fucking ballet, Harrington? Could you be anymore of a princess?

But this is, like, effecting Steve. This is actually taking a fucking toll on him.

And, well, Billy said he’d try to make him feel better.

“So, when is it?”

“When’s what?”

“The fucking ballet.”

And Steve stared at him.

“Never, apparently. Because she’s having too much fun in Saint-Tropez, and anyway aren’t you getting a little old for it, Steven?” He put on a breathy voice when he imitated his mother, sticking his nose in the air.

“I mean when is it running, numb nuts.”

“All this month. It’s like, Christmas themed. They do it every year.”

“Then you’re in charge of getting tickets.”

And Steve was giving him a look, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you, suggesting, that you, Billy ‘I’m rough and tough and dangerous’ Hargrove, are going to take me to the ballet?”

“I’m not suggesting it, shithead. I’m telling you to get fucking tickets, and let me know the date so I can get a nice fucking shirt.”

“You’re serious? You’re going to drive with me to the city, and sit there for nearly three hours, and watch the ballet with me.”

“Jesus fuck-three hours? God, the shit I do for you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as Steve, Steve’s face split into a wide smile, the one that makes his nose scrunch up, and he began hopping from foot to foot, bobbing his head.

“Okay. Okay! I’m gonna, I think I can buy them over the phone. I’ll, I’m gonna do it before you have a chance to back out.” He took a step closer to Billy, grabbing his face in one hand, making his cheeks pout, planting a kiss to his lips before zooming off to dig the phone book out of the hall closet.

He was humming away to himself, probably the music from the fucking ballet Billy had resigned himself to seeing, while he pawed through the heavy book, searching for the number of the theater in Indianapolis.

Billy rolled his eyes at Steve’s little outbursts of excitement, tossing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You fucking owe me. Just, like, by the way. I’m talking blowjobs every day. I’m talking cigarettes. I’m talking homemade dinners.”

“Oh, you mean the shit that I already do because I l-love you, or whatever.” Steve’s face went bright red, and he turned away from Billy, standing in a stunned silence, jamming the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to purchase some tickets please.” His voice sounded strained, and he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head.

Billy was stuck fucking dumb.

He’s never, fucking never had someone tell him that they love him. He thinks maybe his mom did back in the day, but it’s been a long fucking time since he’s felt the slow spread of warmth down his spine that comes with hearing it.

Steve loves him.

Steve was rambling away on the phone, tugging on the phone cord, and tapping his foot maniacally.

Billy doesn’t think he could move.

And eventually he hear the person on the other end of the line hang up. He registered Steve placing the phone quietly on the hook once again.

He stayed with his back towards Billy.

“Steve.”

He took a deep breath, turning around to face Billy with a big fake smile.

“I got tickets! We’re going on Saturday. So, uh, yeah. If you need to borrow some clothes, it’s, it’s pretty fancy. So, like, uh, yes.” Steve was babbling, his eyes darting between Billy’s left ear and the wall behind him.

“Steve.”

“I got mezzanine seats. That’s where I like to sit, uh, you can see the stage better that way, and they’re usually cheaper. I mean, not that that’s, like, the thing, but, it’s a bonus.”

“Steve.”

Steve rolled his lips into his mouth, his leg shaking.

“Can we, like, not talk about it?”

“I feel like we should, though.”

“I don’t, wanna.”

Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should be, like, sweet for this conversation. Or something. Adjacent to it.

“At least, did you mean it? What you said?”

Steve bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I mean. I liked, liked hearing it. And, uh, me too. You know. Uno reverse.” Billy gestured like he was putting a card down between them. Steve gave him a blank stare.

“Did you just, Uno reverse my confession of love? Is that seriously what just happened?”

“Well, like-” the thing is, it’s a big fucking word. And he doesn’t think he can actually, like, say it to Steve. But, he feels it. He definitely feels it. Like, fuck, he’s going to the goddamn ballet for this fucker. Obviously, there’s some big fucking feelings there. “What you feel. Is also. What I feel.”

“Oh. Good, then. Yeah. Good.” Steve looked around the room. “Should we, like, shake on it?”

“Shake on it? Steve, fucking Hell. Just come here.” He reached out, looping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him into his arms. And Steve stumbled forward, crashing with very little grace into Billy.

He sighed as Billy kissed him, a sloppy, desperate kiss. A kiss that Billy tried to shove every word he couldn’t say into Steve’s brain the same way he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

And when they broke apart, Steve began humming, grinning wildly.

And Billy figured the song was from the fucking ballet he had agreed to see with Steve. Which he can’t stress enough, the fact that he is going to see a goddamn, motherfucking ballet just to make his favorite person happy, that’s as close as Billy can possibly come to a declaration of devotion at this point in his life.

But Steve pulled out a brightly decorated record from his family’s collection, explaining that the ballet had many different iterations, but all choreographed to the same compilation of music, and apparently, this was enough for him.

To have Billy hold him while he talked for hours about the story of the ballet, the history of it, the music the costumes he likes, everything, maybe it was okay that Billy couldn’t say the words. Maybe it was okay that he was there, that he did the things Steve liked just to see him smile.

Billy’s never been enough for anyone.

But then again, neither has Steve.

(And when they finally see the show, it’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. They go once more before the run is closed and establish a new tradition together.)

#yikes writes #I watched the nutcracker bc they aired our local production on tv and its highkey the best production of the nutcracker i've ever seen #and i've seen a lot #but it's my favorite #and I may or may not have cried while watching it and thought of this #I was in that production for four years ayyoooo #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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equal-shipping · 3 years

Text

Why Kaishin Still Holds Up, Even Now.

I FINALLY watched the 23rd Detective Conan and let me tell you what...

Why are there not more episodes with these two working so closely together? Like please?! They got that solved so quickly and just shared information with one another and can I please just have them interact before the series ends pleaaaaaase.

Yet I'm not here for begging. I'm here to rant and cleverly disguise that rant as an essay.

I want to rant about trust in Detective Conan (specifically with a look at Kaishin) and the Enemies turned Rivals turned Friends turned Lovers trope.

[Mild Spoilers Ahead]

Trust as a Driving Force in Detective Conan

If someone asked me what is one of the many driving forces in the DC plot as well as the cornerstone of many of the relationships in DC it would be trust. Most of the characters in DC are living their lives with lies as the foundation of who they present themselves to be.

And here is something that I love about the relationship these two have with one another:

The trust that Shinichi has on Kid was earned and vice versa.

I don't think that Shinichi thinks that Kaito Kid is the most honest person in the world, but he does know that the magician works by a code and he trusts him to not put someone in any immediate danger despite the fact that Kaito Kid does not inherently talk too deep about his heists with him.

Ask yourself this. Where in canon did it say that in Kid's heist nobody gets hurt by Kid? I've read the manga and nowhere does he really say 'this is a safe show for everybody!' Let me tell you where it says it: Nowhere.

So why do we all assume it to be that way? Because even we have trust in our favourite thief that he won't do something to actively hurt someone. Since the story is being told in Shinichi's point of view, most of the times, we can rely on the trust that Shinichi has placed on Kid to not get anyone hurt.

One big example of this would be in the Detective Conan Movie: The Sunflowers of Inferno:

Leaving Ran in Kid's care is a conscious decision he is doing despite the fact that he doesn't know if Kid is even going to make it out. Shinichi loves Ran probably more than he loves himself and he wants her out of danger enough to place trust in someone that, situation wise, has no business whether Ran or Shinichi live or not. I honestly think that even Kid was surprised that Shinichi made that decision.

Now I'm not going to put my shipper goggles when I make this statement and go 'OH MY GOD THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH IT SHOWS IT EVERYWHERE. LOOK AT THE SHOW, STUPID."

But these two have something that not many of the characters in DC have and that is a mutual trust without knowing all the details of their lives.

Kaito happened to guess that Conan was Shinichi and I doubt that Shinichi is going to meet Kuroba Kaito by the end of the series. These two barely know each other but through their interactions just happen to understand each other enough to work together amazingly when thrust into a situation where they have to help each other out.

Which brings me to the second thing I want to talk about.

My Enemy Went From Being My Rival to My Friend to my Lover, What Happens Now?

I want to break into Gosho's house and ask him to please let Kaito Kuroba meet Shinichi Kudou. Like this is such a might need that I'm almost scared of looking forward to the ending of DC because I just have a feeling it isn't going to happen.

I might also ask him why the hell every side character needs a romance subplot but that is neither here nor there.

But now that the ships have been decided and canon has sealed the final nail on everything, I just want to talk about the trope that makes Kaishin just so amazing for me.

If I am remembering my facts right, Magic Kaito came before Detective Conan. Kaito was a realized character, somewhat, and was clearly a very likable chara with a ridiculous high IQ and a secret he couldn't reveal to anybody.

I mean he's a goddamn beautiful man is what I'm trying to say.

When I first read the series I could immediately tell that Aoko was set to be the romantic interest, Gosho really ain't fooling nobody. She seemed cute, extroverted and a girl who seems to really care for Kaito. Of course there was the juicy tidbit of Kaito being the thief her father is hunting down that also kept the relationship interesting.

So I was more than okay with having these two together.

I was already a bit aware of Detective Conan so I was all for the ShinRan as well. The pining, the secrets, the care that Shinichi has for her that transcends the organizations doing!

Also fun fact: Kaito/Aoko was the basis for Shinichi/Ran! Which is why ShinRan is thematically better than Kaito/Aoko but I will not go into that.

So one sad day during quarantine, I decided to rewatch the series to see if I could get any writing inspiration.

Now I don't know if it was quarantine or a change of heart or just me growing up but Gosho's friend trope seemed boring to me the more the episodes continued on. I AM NOT THROWING THE FRIENDSHIP TROPE DOWN, IT IS BEAUTIFUL I STILL SHIP SHINRAN

But I was tired of picking vanilla and wanted to see what else was on the menu.

And as luck would have it, I had decided to watch episode 515: Kaito Kid's Teleportation Magic and fate decides to deliver me a wonderful hit to the heart:

What is it about characters pointing guns at each other that I love so much?

And Shinichi doesn't react like a normal fucking person he just goes:

He knows this man ain't gonna shoot. They have had five interactions before this (if we are going by anime episodes) and through all those interactions Shinichi managed to get to a level of banter with this guy that he hasn't had with any of his other enemies.

If he even considered Kaito Kid an enemy to begin with.

Both Kaito and Shinichi have a mutual respect for each other's skill.

They test each other out in several situations and are pleased when the other figures it out, kinda transitioning their little chases to more of a 'two really smart guys trying to outwit each other' and less of a detective trying to outsmart a thief.

Shinichi enjoys figuring out his magic and Kaito enjoys the challenge of making some of his magic tricks near impossible to figure out. Their friendship is something really special and if they can have it without even knowing the details of each other's life, imagine how strong it would be if they truly met each other face to face.

I don't really want to cross into headcanon territory that would turn them into lovers, lord knows we have more fanfiction to do so, but it is just wonderful to see these two men both living a lie respectively but finding some solace in each other that they can shut their brains off for one second and just...play.

Hell, Kid's heists might be Shinichi's safe place. In those heists he is known as the 'Kid Killer' and not just some brat who happens to figure shit out. His opinion matters in those heists.

And not just to the police, but to Kaito as well.

BUT IM GETTING OFF TOPIC!

I just wanted to show love to this wonderful ship q wq

#detective conan #dcmk #magic kaito #kuroba kaito #kudo shinichi #kaishin #what can I say?#im a sucker for two men outwitting each other to the point it turns into flirting

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