#it was the week from hell so that's probably the main thing
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I've spent the better part of yesterday afternoon convincing myself I don't need a mini wok station or a raclette grill, tell me about something you don't have any way to justify buying but you just want anyway? Either bc it sounds fun or kind of neat or bc you just always wanted it :)
First of all, you DEFINITELY need the mini wok station. The raclette grill—I guess it depends how much you love raclette. 😂
Second, the problem with me answering this is that I usually just buy stuff when I feel like it. So instead, after the jump, I’ll tell you about some of the insane, impractical purchases I’ve actually made. 🌈
I think the first one that comes to mind is a custom-painted, Drag Race-themed tea service for 10. It’s like 52 pieces, and it’s displayed in a lighted cabinet. I love it and I’m thrilled that I have it but…I mean yeah, it was objectively insane. I’ll DM you some pics if you want. (In my defense: I was on Percocet and having a bit of a bipolar meltdown.)
I used to buy literally everything I ever saw on an infomercial until I just decided that for my own sanity, I can’t watch infomercials. Those purchases included wrinkle cream when I was 16 because “it’s never too early,” a Montel Williams blender which we only ever used to crush ice, and a thing called an “egg wave” to cook eggs in the microwave. Which btw is the grossest way *possible* to cook eggs but I was living in a dorm with no kitchen at the time, just a microfridge. (And we were forbidden from having hot plates because of fire safety.) Anyway. I don’ watch infomercials anymore.
A gym membership that I used approximately 5 times in the 3 years I had it and the only reason I canceled is because I got a new credit card so I didn’t actually have to call them.
Dr Fluffernutter himself. The man, the legend. It started when I wrote a god like him into Galactica and then got jealous of my character's fictional dog. And I love him to pieces but it was objectively too much money to pay for a dog. Also, the way people in LA gave me SHIT for not getting a rescue from a shelter. But in fairness to me…he’s VERY cute. Like, so much cuter than any of the dogs I saw on the rescue websites. No offense to those povo dogs but...just not my style.
I ALMOST bought a new car when I was having my bipolar Percocet meltdown, but didn't. Responsible? Totes. She's learning.
Except that a year or so later, I spent about $500 on Build-a-Bear clothes for Doc. Like, there's so much that he has to have his own closet. So I guess I also bought an entire Ikea wardrobe for my dog. But look, I don't have kids!! And what's the worst that can happen from spoiling your dog? It's not like he's gonna grow up to be a douche who buys a social media company and runs it into the ground...
Lastly...when I first moved here to Sweden, it was really hard to find housing that would allow the dog, so I rented a room from this guy. And it was fine for a little bit but long-term, it was not the right situation. And it was SO hard to find something so I just bought an apartment. In cash, since I don’t have a full-time job here and so I don’t qualify for a mortgage. Which was pretty much all my money but on the plus side, now I own an apartment and I can sell it when I want to move. The only issue is that I don’t know the rules for taking money out of the country. I should have looked into that but…it was a cute apartment in a cute building in a cute neighborhood so I didn’t really have time to think too hard. 🤣
I don't think I can top "an apartment" but in terms of shit I definitely don't need but WANT, I do have my eye on a painted lady style dollhouse. Come on, LOOK HOW CUTE:
Plus you an get so much adorable stuff to put in it. Fruit and veggies, sushi, little teeny condoms so that your dolls don't get knocked up. A TINY DOLLHOUSE TO GO INSIDE YOUR DOLLHOUSE!!!
Really the question here is, how do I NOT buy this??
#walking down the glittertrail#why did this take me all week?#well#it was the week from hell so that's probably the main thing#love you though#BUY THE MINI WOKS!!!!!!#MINIIIII WOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKS!!!!!!!!!!!
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#.................................................................................................................................#so another update on my skin i guess . . .#about a week in and its basically everywhere on my chest and terribly on my back and legs and butt : - ( worst its gotten so far is itchy as#all hell on my side but thankfully so far thats really it....... ive maybe been tired n had a sore ish throat like when i first felt it but#not really anymore.... now its just my skin looking. awful lol everywhere#but....... i found out about this skin thing that looks Exactly The Same As Mine Looks Right Now and that ! was a major relief considering !#its not a serious skin thing and my symptoms almost entirely align with the process so far ! ! !#as much as i am still skeptical im just. i dont know that helped a lot i guess. everything else id found n been thinking it could be were#oretty serious things for the most part which honestly raqcking my brain about that for the past week uh#probably wasnt the best mental health decision to make OTL...............#still gonna go up the mountain for some cheap blood work tommorow..... then back to urgent care on wed/thurs to really make sure its nothing#serious which will also immediately improve my headspace regardless so. thats good too#and the help from my best friend . . . . . . . . . i am so so lucky to have him he is literally so special. i was right at the bottom and he#didnt even hesistate . crazy how that can feel so nice and hurt so much at the same time#hurt really from just honestly how immensely empty i was and how much i really needed that support#still though absolutely heated from. the initial situation and how my main support just kinda fucked off in response lmao! but#all that greif and sadness and ugly crying aside today has been a mostly good day in comparison. let alone finding out something it could#absolutely very well be and its Not Super Serious Necessarily and Pretty Common all things considered#is a big plus. . . . a lot to think about and a lot to do as always just really really gotta keep my head on my shoulders . . . . . . . . .#okay and honestly all that aside ladies it looks. so crazy. i really actually maybe am gonna take pictures of this to really document it nd#even if its a serious thing its like. so crazy looking#feels pretty ridiculous dont get me wrong it literally feels like my skin is fucked up where its raised n swollen but the pattern is#idk medically fascinating to me i guess is the best way to say it lol#how would that be for my first selfie in like 4 years teehee 😌 anyways enough of my ranting but in case anyones interested here ya go . . .
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Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.
But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.
When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.
“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”
It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.
That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.
It became the thing he gave to important people.
Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.
Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).
He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.
Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.
Steve didn’t.
Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.
“Baby, you think he don’t know?”
Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.
“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”
As usual, she had a point.
So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.
Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.
Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.
“I love it. And you.”
Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.
“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”
Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”
“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”
And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.
“So what about the medic?”
“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”
Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.
When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.
“Anything new?”
“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”
#still no name for her but oh well#she can just stay mama Munson#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#wayne munson#mama Munson#I’m begging someone to write something with all this#I ain’t got the TIME#or the ENERGY#I have little spurts of thoughts like this and then NOTHING
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Magic
Moon Boys x reader<3
summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?
A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
@jake-g-lockley
Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.
But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.
Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.
He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.
It wasn't always so nice.
"You're married?!"
"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.
"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"
"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."
This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.
"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."
It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.
Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."
"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"
"Yup."
"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."
Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.
"I know, man."
Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.
Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.
When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.
Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"
Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"
"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.
"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.
"Hi." you kissed his nose.
"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.
Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"
"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"
The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.
Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.
Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.
After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.
It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.
So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.
But not Marc.
Because he didn't like you like that.
Of course not, you were his friend.
You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.
He didn't know when it became something more to him.
And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.
No, to him, you were just his best friend.
And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.
Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.
You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.
"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."
That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.
And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.
As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.
He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.
"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.
"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.
Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.
What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.
'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'
Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.
'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'
When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'
You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.
"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.
"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.
Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.
Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.
But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.
"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.
"Give me the body, hermano."
"All yours."
Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.
"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.
"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."
"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."
He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.
Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.
----
Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.
He should have known that you were a light sleeper.
"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.
He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.
After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."
Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"
"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."
To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?
He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.
You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.
"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.
He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.
"Sweetheart. Please."
When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.
"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.
"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.
"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.
Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.
And they'd never let you go.
#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight x reader#jake lockley angst#marc spector angst#moon knight angst#moon knight#marvel cinematic universe#oscar isaac x reader
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07 — wildest dreams
summary: “he’s so tall, and handsome as hell”/”his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn
warnings: rated 16+ for lots of kissing hehehe, reader wears a dress + makeup, a final ‘eff u!!’ to jeid LOL
wc: 3.3k
a/n: we have finally reached the end! thank you all so much for your support during this little project 😚💕 massive thank you to @astrophileous for beta-reading this entire project! congratulations again for finishing your thesis!!
SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST
Spencer yawns softly as he steps out of bed, running his fingers through his unruly hair. He finally got it cut a few days ago and, even though it’s a lot shorter than what he is used to, he really likes it. After putting on his shirt that has fallen haphazardly to the floor the previous night, he walks into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea.
He stirs the sugar with a spoon tiredly, his vision blurry from both the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses. The muscles of his thighs quiver with each step and he grimaces. Maybe he should start working out with Morgan. He dismisses the thought immediately. He still wants to live.
He’s about to go back into the room when a pair of arms wrap tightly around his middle, and he lets out a breathless laugh. “Hey, angel.”
You grunt out a noncommittal greeting, your forehead resting between his shoulderblades as you continue to hug him. “Why’d you go?”
“I was thirsty,” he responds, turning around to hug you back. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts that you stole and he glows with pride, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “What’re you doing up, darling?”
“You left,” you respond groggily, leaning into his touch. “Got cold.”
Spencer, as you have learned, is essentially a human furnace. He exudes so much warmth both figuratively and literally that you have saved probably hundreds of dollars in electricity bills. He is so unbelievably warm and he always gives the best hugs, wrapping his arms around your frame and tracing circles into your skin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the side of your face. “Go back to bed, angel. I’ll be there in a second, okay?”
You merely nod in response, reaching up and planting a firm kiss to his chin before padding back into your room, burying yourself under the covers. He arrives soon after, shuffling closer to you and pulling you in so that your nose is against his sternum. His fingers find the knots in your hair, skillfully and carefully untangling them. He feels you yawn as he continues his ministrations, and he presses yet another kiss to your head.
“You should move in,” you mumble against his chest, creeping a hand up under his shirt and brushing your nails against his spine.
He shudders at the contact, a quiet groan leaving his lips. “Yeah? You think I should move in?”
It is within moments like these where it becomes glaringly obvious that Spencer is no longer the naive ‘kid’ he was when he began working at the BAU. He’s grown into himself now, filling out his dress shirts better and wearing an easy smile on his face. Spencer has always been attractive, all of the girls who loved him before are a testament to that (no matter how bitter you are when coming to this realisation), but he’s now a lot more comfortable with it. He likes to say that you are a big part of that journey. You would simply tell him that the growth was his to make.
“You basically already live here,” you tell him. “It’s close to the train station and there’s that good Thai place across the road.”
“I’d love to move in with you,” he says softly, stroking your cheeks. He’s had an affinity for your cheeks since he first met you, poking at them teasingly and you would do the same in retaliation. Now, he can let his touches linger. “Really. I can get the rest of my things here by the end of the week.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
He smiles. “Exactly.”
You yawn again, your eyes squeezing closed so tightly that an unnecessary tear slips past the corner of your eye. Spencer wipes it away with his thumb before kissing your nose, relishing in the way you let out a breathless laugh.
“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours.
You beam at him, kissing him softly. “I love you.”
***
“And it’s like, if you don’t want to get yelled at, don’t come late to every single shift that you have, y’know?” You complain from your bedroom, pushing your lashes upwards with the side of your finger. You’re leaning over your new white vanity, forgoing the chair, as you try to keep your lashes up. “I mean, I get that this is her first time doing work experience, but come on she isn’t nine. And get this, babe, she doesn’t even have a phone. She’s seventeen years old doing work experience and she doesn’t have a phone. I have to remind her of her shifts through her mother. Do you know how awkward that is?”
Spencer hums as he does up his tie, coming up from behind you and and glancing at you for a moment. “She doesn’t sound like someone who wants to be doing work experience, angel.”
“I swear she’s only doing this because it’s compulsory at her high school,” you lament, turning around to face him. “And she is so rude. You should have heard what she said to Veronica, Walter, it was insane. Like, she swore in front of a client. In front of a child.”
His nose scrunches up at your words, resting his hands on your waist and stroking up and down with his thumbs, feeling your curves through the pretty dress you picked out. “You should fire her.”
“Legally I cannot,” you say with a huff. “But I’m pretty sure she’s going to quit or something. ‘Ronica will let me know, and honestly, good riddance.”
He laughs as he kisses your forehead. “I don’t doubt it, angel.”
You smile at him, no longer disgruntled from your frustrating coworker. “You look really good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“You look exquisite,” is his quick response, continuing to stroke up and down along your sides. He kisses you slowly, one hand moving to cup your neck and holding you there. “Is this a new dress?”
“Got it for forty bucks,” you say with a grin. “This boutique was having a sale downtown. Guess how much this used to be.”
He laughs at your enthusiasm, kissing you again. “How much?”
“One hundred and twenty,” you say giddily as you straighten his tie. “That’s a steal, right? So I bought two more dresses the same price. That’s like, two free dresses, y’know? Girl maths.”
Spencer can’t help but smile as you tell him all about your shopping spree, his pointer finger dragging up and down your jaw. He doesn’t have the heart to correct you about the inaccuracies of whatever ‘girl maths’ is, instead choosing to nod along. “Yeah?”
You nod with a silly smile. “Yeah! And I figured that I might as well get JJ and Will’s wedding gift while I was out and I got these super cute wine glasses and–”
He cuts you off with a kiss, his fingers delving into your once neat updo, and his mouth pressing firmly against yours. In seconds he has you sat on the seat of your vanity and he leans down to kiss you harder.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs against your lips, “so pretty.”
“You messed up my hair,” you scold half-heartedly, your fingers grazing against the collar of his shirt. “We’re gonna be late to the wedding.”
“It’s not our wedding,” he breathes, kissing you again and murmuring between them, “they’ll understand.”
You pull away, cheeks hot and lips swollen. “They’ll know.”
“Good.”
“Spencer!”
You arrive at Rossi’s mansion with five minutes to spare, guests already filing through the doors. From the corner of your eye, you spot Aaron and Emily speaking in one of the living rooms while JJ follows an older lady up the stairs holding a white dress in her arms. After placing the wedding gift on the table, you venture out into the garden where the tables are decorated with white lace tablecloths and the chairs have big satin ribbons on the backs of them. Cream and white roses are arranged elegantly on top of the tables and the fairy lights provide an even bigger sense of magic to the scene.
“The place looks amazing, David,” you praise, beaming at the older man. “Truly, it’s like something out of a fairytale.”
He chuckles as he holds a flute of champagne, gesturing to where Derek stands with Penelope. “I had some help. You’re taking care of yourself?”
“Of course,” you respond, waving to Derek who looks all too pleased to see you again. “It has been a really good couple of years.”
“You and Spencer have been together for, what, two and a half years?” He asks as he looks over to where Spencer is showing magic tricks to Henry.
“Sounds like a long time, huh?” You ask through a breathless laugh. “It’s been good.”
David smiles proudly at you, patting you on the shoulder. “I’m happy for the two of you. You’re like a daughter to me, you know that.”
“I know,” you respond, grinning. “Thank you.”
“Let me know when the big day happens,” he says with a wink. “It’ll save you from renting a venue.”
You only laugh and shake your head as you move to where Spencer is, ruffling his hair as Henry giggles loudly. Spencer lets out a shout in protest, swatting your hands away lightly before holding them in his own, bringing his lips to the back of it.
“Having fun?” You ask them, grinning at Henry who nods excitedly.
“Uncle Spencer showed me a magic trick!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together.
“Oh is that right?”
Spencer offers you a sheepish smile, twirling a penny around his fingers. “Do you want to see?”
He doesn’t give you much room to accept or deny the offer, holding the penny in his hands and showing it to both you and Henry.
“Behold,” he announces, “a normal penny. But this penny can travel through the astrological planes and dimensions. Watch closely.”
He holds the penny up to your face before snapping his fingers and, lo and behold, the penny was out of sight. He shows both his hands, front and back, a boyish smile on his face. Henry claps at the display, squealing and brushing his long hair away from his face.
“Where’d it go?” Henry asks, pouting.
Spencer beams at the enthusiasm and holds his hands out again. “Ah, now that is the tricky part. For that, I need an assistant… angel, do you mind?”
He holds you by the waist with left hand, kissing your cheeks before holding his right hand in front of your face. Henry shrieks at the display of affection, covering his eyes exaggeratedly. You laugh out of embarrassment, swatting at Spencer’s arms and rolling your eyes.
“Stop torturing the poor child,” you scold lightly, wiping away his sloppy kisses.
“Couldn’t help myself,” he dismisses, before waggling his fingers. “Now, to find that penny…”
He reaches up behind your ear, pinching at something, before revealing the penny in his pinched fingers. He watches as your eyes widen with surprise, his cheeks pinkening in delight.
“How did you do that?” You ask, grabbing the penny from his hand and turning it over in your fingers.
“He’s magic,” Henry provides helpfully, clapping his hands. “Just like Auntie Penelope! When I tell her about something, it magically shows up at my house in a big brown box!”
You laugh, not having the heart to inform him that Penelope is not magic; simply very good at spoiling the people she cares about. She has taken you on more than a few shopping sprees in hopes of spoiling her little godson, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the cute clothes and toys in the department stores. Recently, she’s been scouting out jewellery stores, going on and on about how difficult it is to find gifts for people. You had offered a few recommendations of your own, gesturing to the pretty rings and necklaces out on display, but she only dismissed your suggestions.
“Auntie Penelope is basically a fairy godmother,” you tell Henry in explanation, chuckling. “Like in Cinderella.”
“I love Cinderella,” Henry says, his eyes lighting up. “Uncle Spencer read it to me! He said that the original story is about Ash-poo-tell.”
“Ashputtel,” Spencer explains to you, “the original story.”
“Ah,” you nod in remembrance, recalling the grim details of the story. You ruffle Henry’s hair. “You can hear that story when you’re older.”
The rest of the wedding goes without a hitch. Drinks are handed out by the ushers Rossi hired, along with cute little hors d'oeuvres. The ceremony in itself is perfection; JJ and Will sharing a kiss after saying their vows, and Henry being the ring bearer. Spencer holds your hand the entirety of the celebrations, brushing his thumb up and down the back of your left palm, carefully tracing each knuckle.
As JJ and Will take to the dance floor, more and more couples join in. Derek and a very drunk Penelope join in with loud giggles, and Beth drags Hotch into the circle by the wrists. Spencer rests his hands on your waist as the two of you stand at the sidelines, watching with amused grins as Penelope trips over her own feet.
“Hey,” Spencer murmurs into your ear, pulling you closer. “What do you say we get away from the crowd?”
You jump on the opportunity, already picking up your purse. “Who are you and what have you done to Spencer Walter Reid?”
He rolls his eyes at you, shooting a quick message to the team’s group chat to let them know that you were making an early leave. “Very funny.”
“No, no, I’m serious! Do you need to see a doctor? Like, a medical one?” You ask with jest as he opens up the car door for you.
“Do you want me to change my mind?” He asks, laughing, before getting into the driver’s seat of the car. “I just thought that we could go somewhere. It’s not too late and if we hurry, I think we could catch the sunset.”
You smile innocently as he puts the car into drive, heading off to who knows where. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”
“Tell me again,” he prompts, resting his hand on the inside of your thigh as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” comes his immediate response, squeezing at the flesh of your thighs through your dress. A street sign passes overhead as he drives, reading the word ‘Anacostia’.
“We’re going to the Bridge Park?” You ask curiously, peering out the window.
He hums in affirmation. “I heard it’s pretty this time of day. I wanted to take you out somewhere nice, but I don’t know when we’ll have a case next so I figured that this would be the perfect time.”
After parking the car and locking it, Spencer takes your hand as you walk through the park. It’s a very popular area in Anacostia, the entire neighbourhood holding old historic buildings that have been refurbished.
You relish the feeling of the breeze in your hair, your cheeks turning rosy as the temperature begins to drop. You made it just in time for the sunset as it paints the park in oranges and a soft lavender haze, your skin flushing gold from the lighting. You commit the image to memory as you stare at the view, your dress fluttering around your legs from the wind.
In your distraction, you miss the way Spencer’s hand drops from yours, and you search through your purse for your phone. You click open the photo app, putting it onto the selfie setting as you turn to him.
“Walter, let’s take a–”
The words die at your tongue upon the sight before you. Spencer, in his once neat suit and tie and all his germaphobic tendencies kneeling on the cold concrete, holding a velvet ring box in his hand. The box looks comically small in his palms as he looks up at you, his eyes glossed over and a tearful smile on his face.
“Hi, angel,” he says softly, his voice cracking at the last syllable.
“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you know exactly what is going on. Blood rushes to your ears and you sniffle. “Spencer, your pants–”
“I love you,” he says firmly, the box in his hands quivering as his hands shake. His palms are sweaty and he swallows the nerves down his throat. “I love you. I’m not– I’m not good with words or with expressing how I feel but I know one thing for certain: I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He chokes out a quiet laugh as you take a step closer to him, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “I had a speech prepared and everything,” he says, embracing the feel of your warm hands on his cheeks. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur, crouching down so that you are eye level with him. “It’s okay, Walter.”
“No, I–” he swallows the lump in his throat and wets his bottom lip. “Love in the English dictionary covers a multitude of feelings. You can love doing something, or love a specific food, or love an object. In other languages, there are different words for different types of love and I think… I think that they got it right. There are a million untranslatable words that all mean love but I think the one that expresses how I feel about you would be the Chinese phrase ‘yuan fen’. It means that two people were… predestined to be together and I think– I know that we were meant to be.”
He sucks in a breath after his rant, smiling up at you. “Will you marry me?”
Tears slip from your eyes as you nod, pulling him up from the cold musty ground. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Spencer exhales, his arms looping around your waist. His nose burrows into the side of your neck and you can feel the hot tears against your skin.
“Thank God,” he breathes, moving his head to kiss your cheeks. “I love you.”
“I love you,” you respond, hugging him tight. “Was there ever any doubt?”
He laughs a little, shaking his head as he fumbles with the velvet box, slipping the ring onto your left ring finger. “No. Never.”
Spencer brushes a strand of your hair away from your face before kissing you slowly, the light from the sun finally going down. As you pull away, the speakers overhead come to life with the announcer clearing his throat.
“Unfortunately, due to the predicted rain that will be coming shortly, the fireworks show will be rescheduled. We apologise for this inconvenience.”
You peer up at Spencer curiously who looked more than disappointed. “Fireworks show?”
“That was the plan,” he says with a small frown. “I’m sorry, angel.”
There’s a crash of thunder and before you know it, small droplets of water begin to fall from the sky. Spencer immediately covers your head with his jacket, pulling you over to the car.
“Wait, wait–” you laugh, resisting his efforts. “Walter, wait!”
“I’m not letting you get sick,” he scolds lightly, his curls sticking to his forehead from the rain.
You laugh again, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, we don’t have a pool but… rain works too, right?”
“You’re insane,” he says, his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re crazy.”
A teasing grin makes its way onto your face as you waggle your fingers in front of him. “Yeah, well, you’re marrying crazy.”
“No regrets,” he responds, before pressing his lips to yours.
In that moment, as he kisses you on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, you could have sworn that you felt sparks fly.
← previous part || series masterlist → || bonus !!
Thank you everyone once again for your support through this project! I have had so much fun writing it and I am so grateful for all the traction and love that it has received! With the help of this project, we have reached 2.1k followers! To celebrate, I have opened requests and you can find the event page here <3 thank you all once again and until next time !!
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#mgg#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x reader angst#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds x reader fluff#criminal minds x reader angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler x reader fluff#matthew gray gubler x reader angst#taylor swift#mgg x reader#matthew gray gubler fluff#matthew gray gubler angst#mgg x reader fluff#mgg x reader angst
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Lewis Hamilton - NSFW Alphabet
a/n: It's a NSFW Alphabet, you guys know the drill. Haven't really seen these around for a while, and that photo with the body hair got me in a mood.
EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Clingy. He needs to feel your touch somewhere and needs to have his hands on you. He particularly likes when you run your fingers through his hair, soothing any bad thought away. He may put on a tough façade for the world but when he lowers his walls, he loves the reassurance of your skin on his.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He takes great pride in his arms and shoulders, they’re not the biggest because of f1, but they do a great part of his job. Also, they hold you and everyone he loves close.
On you he loves your collarbones, it’s the first place he goes in any given circumstance. It’s where he feels your perfume when you’re fresh out of the shower, your smell when he’s holding you close while thrusting up at your most intimate place, where he buries his face when he needs to hide from the world and where he leaves his mark for the same world to see.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)
Before being officially and seriously a couple, he would finish in the condom, the moment you were his though, marking you was a thought that drove him wild. Since that first time going raw there was no turning back, he needed to feel and fill you every time since.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
You and him sneaked out, while still being “only friends”, during an end of year party in Brackley. You had had a bit too much to drink and so had him, you stumbled out to the third floor for a breather, after being surrounded by his perfume all night long, and he followed you like a lost puppy, too scared that if he let you out of his sight you’d run and never come back. It was messy and led to radio silence from both of you for weeks, but the sexual tension only grew after that.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
He sure as hell knows what he’s doing. He likes when you’re curious about his experience too, and is always up to let you experience and try new things as a couple.
F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)
Cowgirl, he likes to pretend to be the one in charge but in the privacy of the bed he you’re the boss, plus he gets to watch you and the pleasure he gives you. He’ll flip you if you get too fucked out to ride him all the way, but you’re usually on top.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
Depends on the mood. In the morning it’s usually lighthearted, lazy and sloppy, giggles thrown in the air left and right. Nights tend to be a bit more serious, locked stares, purposeful movements and overall, nastier.
H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Extremely well taken care of. Not all bare though, you both like a bit of something there, but groomed and tidy for sure.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
He’s a thoughtful guy, and you can’t help but imagine even with the hock ups he was probably like that too.
But something changes for him when you two finally commit. From that moment, his favorite part wasn’t the sex but how close you felt to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be around him, how in those moments your world and his are nothing but each other.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
He’ll take matter into his own hands (literally) if needed, but he’ll much rather wait for you.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Praise was one you found out pretty early on, but the main one was breeding, and God did it drive you two into the most unexpected situations.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
Ideally somewhere you can both take your time, before, during and after. But he’s an adrenaline junkie, and adventurous locations would spark something and things would happen in a rooftop, driver’s room, secluded parking lot, desert beach.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
Honestly, not much was needed to get him uncomfortable in his pants, a look you gave him from behind his computer and he was done with whatever work he had to get done. But what truly drove him wild was seeing you smirk at him as you did the most mundane of chores knowing he would get riddle up.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Cause pain if it’s not closely interlinked with pleasure.
Withholding your orgasm so you when you cum it’s a star-seeing, numbing-body one is a big yes. But using you so he gets his release after a frustrating situation but not getting you there in the end is a huge No for him.
He cares too much about your wellbeing to get his needs met if it does nothing for you.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
His thing is going down on you, and he certainly has the skill to match his preferences, but you can’t resist his bulge and how the weight feels wrapped around your hands. He wasn’t too keen on having someone give him head just for the fun of it, but eventually you got him there, even if he won’t admit you can have him quite literally wrapped around your fingers.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Slow and deep is his thing, each thrust sends a message and it’s intoxicating how easily he claims your body.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Doesn’t care too much for them in a daily basis, and would much rather take your time, but racing weekends are busy and sometimes things have to be taken care of in less than 10 minutes, in a dark corridor somewhere.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
He’s down to try anything you suggest and eventually suggests a few things latter in the relationship as well, when he feels you’re comfortable about his past experiences.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
He can go for as long as you want him to go and a bit more. His pace also helps him last longer, and although the same probably can’t be said for you, he likes to take it as a challenge to see how many times, for how long and with how much effort he can get you to cum.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
He doesn’t mind new friends, but they’re not frequent and he prides himself that your best times were only using his fingers, tongue and dick.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He loves it, but you’re impatient so it usually doesn’t last too long, just enough to get you riddled and panting.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Lewis could never be loud, but jesus is he vocal. The dirty talking in your ears is through the roof. But your favorite are his grunts, he gets so tunnel focused with his thrusts his mouth always falls open and he lets out the most guttural ones, them alone kept you panting.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
It was risky, so incredibly risky and stupid from both of you to be in that badly lit corridor, hands all over each other, breathless and rushed kisses all over your skins.
The season had started on a bad foot and for the past 2 races everyone had been working the extra night hours trying to get something out of the car. Lewis had just gotten out of a debrief while you were using his side of the garage as a backdrop for a meeting. He walked right in front of your laptop and stared at you for a while before walking out into the pitlane, taking a second lingering look, left eyebrow raised, tongue slightly brushing the corner of his lips.
You were looking for him as soon as you could get away with the excuse of poor internet, going about the pitlane and taking a moment to actually appreciate the warm Australian weather.
As you looked and tried to find something in the darkness you felt strong arms wrapping you from behind, and kisses in your shoulders that left you highly aware you were in public.
“Someone could see us Lew” you whispered, turning in his embrace to lace your fingers behind his neck. “You look so damn hot when you boss those guys around” he muttered into your collarbone, after unbuttoning the first couple buttons on your blouse, leaving kisses all over your chest.
“Let’s just find somewhere better hidden then” you offered, hands already under his shirt, feeling the heat and firmness of his muscles. “Already did” he said while easily picking a giggling version of you up and kissing your lips to shush you.
The dark alley-type corridor was but a dead space in between fia’s garage and where the safety cars were, no lights there and the only speck of glow coming from two garages away. He sat you down somewhere soft, never once leaving your neck while one hand groped your bra covered breasts and the other held you close by your waist.
Through the fabric in his briefs, you felt his bulge in your tummy when he positioned his body in between your spread legs. A low and husky “we can’t make a sound babe” in your ear before he bucked your hips upwards and pushed your pants down just beneath your knees, pooling his own underwear at his feet with his jeans.
You took his already rock-hard length in hand and used your thumb to get the precum from his tip to the rest of the sensitive head. His grunts filling the now muffed air and you couldn’t help but sneer a “shush there, big guy” while smirking at his pleasure-contorted face. You gave it a few pumps, trying your everything not to give in and show him who’s boss, you had no time to prolong any foreplay, your own desire well visible in your soaked cunt.
He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, biting on your lower lip, trying to distract you with the sharp pain in your month from the stretch his member was giving your core while he slowly thrusted into you, picking up speed as your walls adjusted to his girth, the sound of skin on skin joining the sounds you both tried to keep low.
The scene was truly obscene if anyone found you two. Your hair wild in a makeshift bun he had mustered, seated in a wobbly stack of tires as his hips thrusted forward and you held onto him by his biceps and his butt. He tried muffling his grunts in the soft skin of your exposed collarbone and the faster his movements got the more certain you were he was leaving a mark there.
You knew he was close when his thrusts got deeper, lowly growling “cum for me” in his ears and instantly feeling his hand in between your bodies until his fingers circled your clit. It only took a few seconds for the already present knot in your lower stomach to snap with the added stimulation, and the aftershocks in your inner walls squeezed his own orgasm, his last thrusts making sure his seed was deep inside you.
You embraced his neck and lied your head on his shoulders to catch your breath and stop the world from spinning, his hands caressing your tights and waist. You only moved when you felt him soften inside you, his features contorting at the sensitiveness of his member as he pulled out, his hands always finding your body, even while you both dressed back up.
As you both sneaked around the garages back to hospitality you heard two Williams crew members loudly talking to each other.
“Can you believe those new Fia interns? They can’t keep their hands off of each other, but getting it on in the garage is a new level of stupid, I’m pretty sure we weren’t the only ones to hear them”.
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
We have all seen it through his pants that he is big. The first time you held it in your hand (and mouth) you questioned how on earth it would fit, but the moment you felt his girth in you it was game over for anyone else.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
High. He keep things civil when other people are around, but the moment you’re alone it gets hot and heavy pretty quick. He’s intense in all matters of life, and with you it wouldn’t be any different.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
It’s the one thing that for sure knocks him out, even when the stress is sky rocketing. As soon as you’re both comfortably tangled in each other and he feels you relax he’s out. He had a no sex on run night’s policy, but agreed it made no sense with how well he slept after with you in his arms.
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My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 5)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Quick Notes:
This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)
Reader is an artist/painter.
Part 5:
It was almost pure bliss.
Except many months later, you found out a secret of his one day.
He was an exceptional chef, you were always in awe of how he cooked such magnificent dishes every day.
But one day, you peeked out into the forest through the window in the living room and saw Alastor standing alone, covered in blood. Your first instinct was to run outside, so you did just that.
You rush to his side and ask if he's okay, and what had happened to make him covered in such copious amounts of blood.
He blinks a few times before oddly turning his head to you, breaking out of his stupor, "Oh my dearest (y/n), do not fret so. For I am only acquiring our dinner for tonight!"
You look down at what he is holding in his hands. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. A leg. A human leg. Your eyes then trail to the ground where you see a bloody human body, mangled beyond recognition. "This is.. dinner?"
A large grin appears on Alastor's face, "Quite right! This one should be enough to last us through the week!"
He looks at your face with an almost vicious look to his eyes, awaiting your response anxiously, not that he would let that show, anyways.
All you can manage is "Oh. Okay." Before you walk back inside the house without another word.
It's no exaggeration to say that your brain chemistry was permanently altered from that moment onward.
The situation felt so strange and bizarre, you didn't know what to think. Part of you knew that was he's been doing is extremely horrible and corrupt. It almost made you empty the contents of your stomach, it didn't feel real.
It didn't feel real, but suddenly some of Alastor's behaviors started to make sense. His picky taste for food...He never let you help with cooking, you had chalked it up to him being more of a perfectionist, but now... you know its more than that. He was hiding the fact that he was butchering and preparing human flesh, right in your very home, all this time.
But.. for some reason... all you could think about was how dedicated he was to providing a comfortable life for you, because he truly loved you. Everything he did every day showed you that you mattered and that you deserved only the best.
"But I still love him with all my heart... maybe I'm just as messed up..." Was a sentence your mind kept repeating to itself for quite some time.
Your appetite shrinks after the initial shock for a few days, but you were never one to skip meals or have your appetite be gone completely, even if you were sick. In this instance, you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse in this case.
The meals he made for you had never made you sick in the past, so your body was already used to eating his cooking, and he made such amazing food, carefully crafted with such love and attention to detail, you couldn't help but keep eating his delicious cooking, no matter how bizarre and immoral it was.
"I think I really am just as messed up..." The thought crossed your mind again, but thoughts were interrupted by a rare occurrence, a kiss on the cheek from Alastor as he set your plate down in front of you.
The fact that you never stopped eating his cooking and always thanked him for his food and hard work, even after knowing where the main ingredient comes from, solidified the fact that you were the one. You loved him even after seeing him all bloody, holding a dismembered corpse, and telling you it was dinner. It was this pivotal moment that he knew, that you were the one to be his beloved forever.
In the coming weeks, things went back to "normal". You were settling into the new normal, as Alastor didn't hide the meal prep like he used to, and seeing him bloody and bringing in mysterious cuts of meat into the house became a normal sight to you.
One night when you were going to see Mimzy, Alastor informed you that he was unable to escort you that night. You were a little disappointed, but he assured you it was okay for you to go, it was just that he had plans that he wouldn't divulge any information on, no matter how much you pressed him.
Little did you know, but that night, Alastor was out on the town shopping for the perfect ring to propose to you with.
-> Part 6
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#399
“Oh man, Fuck!... Oh sorry you had to hear that call. Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew. It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off…. Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig. I am about to head home for four days of rest. That’s a 7-hour drive, each way. So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us. My days of relaxing are shot to shit. And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy. I probably won’t even get head. Ain’t that shit?...
“Oh sorry. I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field. All they talk about is pussy. Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.
“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head. You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body. That doesn’t even include blowing your wad. You know what I’m talking about?
“Oh there I go again. Sorry if I’m telling too much.... I do that when I start drinking. Do you care if I talk about getting blown?... Good. Thought so. What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard?
“…Here’s to blowjobs! Cheers!
“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer…. Nah! Put your money away. I got this.
“So your car broke down?... We are one of two taverns for twenty miles. The other is by the interstate one mile away. At this time of day it’s quite deserted. We typically only get locals in here. That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage. There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek. Was I right? Is it your car?
“…That was not a happy nod. So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend. You are here until Monday? …Again, that nod tells me everything. Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles. This is what this hellhole has to offer.
“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud. And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.
“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up. I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday. She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.
“You have a wife or girlfriend?...
“…Huh! Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single. But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained. She gives great head though. She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat. I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size. It takes her a long time to throat me. Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth. Eventually it ends in her throat. She has never taken me down to the root.
“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch. The part she really hates is me dick slapping her. As I said, I have a gigantic dick. Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance. So does a face slap with my hand.
“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive. I am only after one thing, to bust my nut. If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up. If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.
“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole. I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it. I’m so fucking horny. I would use any woman right now. I can’t have a weekend of jerking off. Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way.
“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home. No straight man acts this way.
“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer. Don’t we? So this is what is going to happen. I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet. You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in. Don’t say a word. Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth.
“I’ll give you until I drain my piss. If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.
“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….
“…Well fuck. I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it. But OK.
“I really have to piss. While I do that get in the stall and on your knees. Be ready for me. I swear, the beers just pour right through me. Oh, this feels good—
“What the fuck? I’m not done pissing…. Oh? So, you are one of those kinds of faggots. Nasty piss drinking faggot! Oh fuck, your mouth feels good. You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog. That’s it for my piss for now.
“Faggot, see how big it is? You think you can take it?
“Jesus fuck! Right to the root with no problem! Holy shit. You faggots know what you are doing. Oh man. This is… fuck! Oh my god!
“Bob up and down. Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root. Fuck! This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life. Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.
“Pull off. I said, ‘Pull off!’ Look up at me. Hold still….
“…What? Nothing? I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it…. Wait, what did you just say? Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?
“Get up. Get your faggot-ty ass up. Let’s go. Move!
“We are going to my room at the lodge. You are going to spend your night with me.
“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip. Meet me outside… A fifty? You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.
“OK faggot. I have never used a fag before. But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out.
“Over here. I’m the last room. The lodge is free for us roughnecks. The company pays for our housing. My room is at the end. It’s a glorified motel room. I have tons of beer. You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first. Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.
“I plan on being here for four days. You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat. You probably take it up your ass. I will definitely try that out.
“Now listen up. I have no interest in you or your dick. I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you. You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you. Understand me?... Understand me faggot?
“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’ I like the sound of that. Here we are. Faggot this is all new for me. But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far. I’m so ready to do this. My cock has not lost it’s hard on. I may never go back. Faggot get inside and strip!”
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Soft Sounds | Dean
Summary: Dean mocks you for listening to nature sounds/lo-fi music while you sleep.
Based off of this request here, thank you! <3
Word count: 996
♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱
Sleeping with any sort of noise has always been so comforting for you, having to live with the loud sounds of the world, all of the trauma you've endeavoured keeps you awake at night, memories creeping back from the most horrific times in your life.
You bought yourself your own little white noise machine a week ago, it makes multiple different sounds, and your favourites are lo-fi music and rain/thunder sounds. It's not every night that you have to use this, though, but it really does help. Especially with sleeping alone, your brain loves to play tricks on you during your quietest hours.
Tonight, you turn on your machine, clicking the button on top to change which sound you'd prefer to hear tonight. Your door is slightly ajar, knowing that the brothers were in the kitchen sharing a couple of beers and catching up. You had already told them you're going to have an early night for once and try to catch up on a lot of sleep you've missed out on recently. Doing this could probably help your awful sleep schedule.
You change into your pyjamas, a t-shirt and shorts combo that you threw on from the night before. Trying to look good while you slept is never the first thought since you literally live with two men who couldn't give any less of a crap, also, you're not dating either of them. You climb into bed and throw the covers over you, moving your hair out of your face, and lay on your side. Scrolling through your phone, you try to focus on the sounds coming from your machine, and within minutes, you're knocked out.
♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱
As Sam and Dean call it a night, Sam stays to watch a movie in the main room, whilst Dean makes his way down toward the bedrooms. He notices your bedroom door is still slightly open, and he assumes you're awake.
"Hey, Y/-" He pauses, seeing you're fast out with your phone screen lit up, the lights still on and some noise coming from a weird-looking radio. He frowns, not knowing what is going on. He very quietly makes his way into your bedroom, and locks your phone, placing it on your bedside table. He dims the lights as he pads on over to your radio. "What the Hell is this?" He asks himself, keeping his voice just above a whisper. He glances at the tiny screen that presents what's playing. "She sleeps to this?" He scoffs, and a small grin appears on his face. He looks back at you, huffing. "This is such a Y/N thing to have." He says, standing back up and glancing over at you. Why would she ever own something like this? He thought to himself. It's stupid.
Your positioning in bed makes Dean chuckle to himself. You quite literally take up the whole bed, sprawled out like a starfish. It's mostly funny to him because of how cute you look when you're completely conked out. Your hair in your face, your shirt slightly riding up your torso from the amount of times you've tried to get comfy. "Hold on, is that my shirt?" He laughs quietly, admiring how natural you are.
Dean usually goes for the typical blonde, blue-eyed type of girl. The ones that show that they know they're sexy, that they can get any man they desire, but you - you were different. You never gave a damn about how you looked. If someone liked you, you'd make sure they get every single side of you, every single flaw and weakness. Having Dean see you completely barefaced and look like you just collapsed on your bed was the least of your worries.
Dean's gaze hovers over you for another minute or so, he catches himself smiling, noticing how comfy you are. You shuffle, which scares him a little, panicking that you're going to wake up to him watching you sleep.
"Dean?"
"Y-yeah?" He whispers, taking his hands out of his pockets.
"What are you doing in here?" You groan, wiping your hair out of your face, barely opening your eyes. "I um, heard your little radio thing and... I got curious." He says, an awkward smile appearing on his full lips. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head. You hum quietly in agreement with what he said. Whether Dean understood or not, it didn't matter. "Are you staying?" You mumble, shuffling yourself to the side to make more room. You quietly pat the side of the bed, inviting Dean to join you.
His heart skipped a beat. Sharing a bed with the only girl who genuinely liked him for him? It's almost unbelievable.
"Are you sure? I can go back to my room-"
"Dean, just get in." You say, pulling the covers open for him. His eyes lit up and the smile on his face looked as if it had been slapped on. He takes off his flannel shirt revealing his dark grey t-shirt underneath, and also taking his jeans off down to his underwear. He gently sits down on your bed, ensuring there's still enough space for you. He keeps his space, though, not wanting to give any wrong ideas. "Why were you looking at my machine?" You say, and Dean grins. "It looks weird. Why do you sleep with it?"
"It's to help me sleep."
"It's to help me sleep," He mocks, shutting his eyes. "Just sleep in silence, it's not that hard." He adds, and you huff. "So funny." You grin, slowly moving closer toward him. "It's nice though, really nice..." He trails, his eyes are fully shut, and his body is relaxing. "Come here," He says, adjusting himself so he's lying slightly above you, and you move in to lay on his chest, your leg intertwined with his. He keeps his arm rested above his head, his other hand caressing your hair. "This is nice," He mumbles, almost instantly drifting to sleep.
#supernatural#spn#supernatural imagines#spn imagines#sam winchester imagines#dean winchester imagines#sam winchester#supernatural imagine#dean winchester#dean x reader
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what i'm tryna say is . . .
pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader
summary: you make a point to finally confront percy about why he's been acting so distant.
warning(s): slightly angsty at the start, mutual pining, idiots in love, interrupted love confession.
part 2 part 3
when it came to feelings and relationships, you had to admit. you weren't the best at them.
you weren't stupid. you knew when someone's intentions weren't as platonic as they wanted it to seem. television taught you that -- though tv wasn't the same as reality and sometimes things aren't as forward as they usually were made to be, people just don't work like that.
you kind of hated that fact, actually. the fact that people were so complicated annoyed you so to speak. especially when it came to the various relationships in your life. your relationship with your mother was..rocky. so, the fact that your father was that of an immortal all powerful deity didn't help at all. you hated the fact that the gods were so fickle with the way they spoke to their demigod children.
they'd abandoned them, yet couldn't even offer them a direct sentence or word of advice. it seemed so bittersweet to you. the existence of camp half-blood was a comforting thought yet, challenged you with hard questions at the same time.
why couldn't the god protect their children themselves? why the hell would they just their put kids in danger knowing there was monsters out to get them? and most of all, why didn't they care enough to stick around?
these questions were built on nothing but anger and hatred yet, you couldn't stop them from popping up whenever you had a moment to yourself. this kind of stuff was complex, hard to understand. it was probably why you even hated thinking about it for too long.
you tried your best to avoid bringing up complex feelings, you really did. but.. sometimes you had to face your fears. or -- something like that you figured.
you idled in front of the poseidon cabin, an unnerving feeling in the pit of your stomach as you tried your best to put on a brave face. you had nothing to be scared of, honestly! it was such a stupid situation you'd found yourself worrying about. it'd only been a few weeks since percy, annabeth, grover and thalia had returned from their quest to find artemis.
you practically busted your ass making your way over to find percy and the others, a comical grin on your face being met with the tired and shaken up faces of the group. thalia left with the hunters, nico was informed of the death of his sister and everyone in the camp seemed to be in grimmer spirits than before.
percy included.
he seemed..distant -- in a way. it made you wonder about what the hell happened on the quest. what he had to witness while he was out on the open road. it made your heart hurt for him. i mean, how could it not? percy was like a shell of his normal self and you hadn't a clue what it was about, especially when he started to avoid your presence around the camp.
it was the main reason you were situated outside his cabin, hesitating to knock on it as your head raced with questions. something in the back of your head told you to just go back to your own cabin and hold your tongue. a part of you wished you'd listened to it, sucking in a breath as you knocked earnestly on cabin 3's door.
you exhaled shakily,
“hey,” you started, pausing as you tried to find something to say. you and percy hadn't spoken in weeks, what could you say..? he looked back at you with wide eyes, like he hadn't expected to see you here at all. you couldn't blame him -- you didn't expect yourself to be there either.
“uh, can we talk..?”
percy shut the door behind you as you strolled sheepishly into his cabin, looking around the practically empty cabin as you stood in the middle of the room awkwardly.
percy walked over to you nervously, leaning against the frame of cabin 3's bunk bed as he turned to face you with a concerned expression. “what did you wanna talk about?” you paused, analyzing percy's worried gaze
“are you avoiding me?” you blurted out suddenly.
percy blinked a few times before his eyebrows furrowed. “..what are you talking about?”
“i mean.. i haven't seen you in so long? are you like” you cleared your throat. "do you not wanna be friends..anymore?"
“no.” you turned to him. percy's face was slightly flushed though, you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of the fact the sun was boiling today or for..another reason.
“it's not like that.” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “i've just been..feeling weird, i guess.”
“and you didn't feel the need to tell me about it?”
he paused.
silence fell over the two of you as you began to regret ever coming to cabin 3 before percy spoke once more.
“i don't think i feel the same way i did..” he trailed off. "about..us."
your heart pounded in your ears as your eyebrows furrowed. “what you don't wanna be friends anymore?”
“are you." he sighed in frustration. “no, that's not what i meant.”
you felt slightly jittery now, it must've been your body growing tired of the still position you were in. the vagueness of percy's words were starting to cause thoughts to race in your head as well. why couldn't he just be honest? what excuse is so great that it makes up for the fact he's been ignoring you all this time?
“then,” you mumbled. “ what did you mean?”
percy sucked in a sharp breath, shifting on his leg as he crossed his arms impatiently. he looked like he was trying to psych himself up to say something. he locked eyes with you before shuffling over sheepishly and gently directing you to a sitting position on his bed.
you tapped against the frame of the bunk bed absentmindedly waiting for percy to continue.
“you're uh..” he paused again. “i don't want to just be friends.”
you shot him a confused look. “you wanna be..best friends?”
percy deadpanned. you felt slightly bad for still not getting what he was trying to say. though, what were you supposed to assume when he kept talking in riddles? percy's hand inched towards your own that rested on the bed slowly before he cleared his throat.
“i like - ”
“percy! you have to..” annabeth trailed off, observing the scene in front of her with calculated eyes. she bit back an amused grin, shaking her head slightly. “did i..walk in on something?”
“no!” percy exclaimed, moving his inching hand away from yours to rest in his lap. his face was red and his lips were folded into a thin line. “uh - we weren't doing anything.”
you eyes percy curiously before turning to annabeth. “what's going on?”
“chiron's asking for him..” her eyes shifted between the two of you. “i can tell him you're busy..”
“you don't have to,” you stood up from the bed, dusting yourself off. “i was gonna..leave anyways.” you turned to percy. “catch you later, i guess.” percy nodded his head, waving at you robotically.
you shut the door behind you, trying your best to shake off the awkward conversation.
you weren't able to decipher what percy was saying to you, nor did you even get a straight answer about why he'd be avoiding you. you squinted your eyes as the sun shun over your face.
why were people so complex?
#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#x reader#x reader fluff#mutual pining#love confessions#pjo fluff#fluff
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Danny Fenton, Totally Mortal Hero Consultant (DPxDC)
Snippet for an AU I'll probably never fully write where Danny takes a job as a consultant for the Justice League to help with ghost and demon bullshit. It's a pretty good cash flow to help him with college, after all, and very flexible hours.
He just claims all his knowledge comes from his parents. Unfortunately, the JL has caught word of the elusive yet active hero Phantom, and want Danny to help them meet and assess him. Whoops.
Over the phone, Tucker sighed. “Good Christ, Danny, why do you keep doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said immediately. He winced at the vague sound of screaming below. Demons sucked. “I didn’t know the JL thing was gonna have me finding Phantom. How would I? They were talking about tracking down powerful ghosts, I was assuming Ancients!”
Tucker sighed again, which was really quite unfair of him. “Mhm. Well, Fenton Catcher?”
“Probably not. They know me pretty well at this point, and unlike what Sam says I can be professional. I’d confuse them with the… uh…”
“Stoner shtick?”
There was more screaming happening, but judging from the pitch it was a demon screaming this time. Danny checked the situation. Yep, demon getting their ass kicked. He didn’t need to get involved with a blaster. Yet.
Instead, he scowled at his phone. “Stop calling it that.”
“You’re gonna tell me flanny Danny wasn’t a pitch-perfect stoner, huh? With the chill vibing and the dopey look?”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, bud.”
The sound of a clacking keyboard that had underlined their conversation stopped. “But seriously, Danny, what the hell are you gonna do with this?”
“Uh, lie, probably,” Danny said, because it was very likely.
“Alright, smartass, what are you going to do when that lie backfires on you like literally every other one does?”
“That’s when I start gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing, babe.”
He had a hard time hearing Tucker’s distant groan of “Why am I still your friend?” on account of the sudden explosion. Danny checked again. Hm. Demon dude had a nasty fire thing going on.
Danny switched on his Fenton water gun—holy water included!-- and shot the demon in the face. They let out a cracking hiss of rage, but dropped the fire spell thing. He waited for them to stop looking around wildly for the culprit for a moment.
He went back to the call. “‘Cause you loooove me, Tuck. From the bottom of your twice-dead heart.”
“Unfortunately,” Tucker deadpanned.
Danny just cackled. It was lost amongst the sound of supernatural bullshit below.
“Anyway, I’m still figuring out my plan A, honestly. Might bring in gray-man?”
“Amorpho’s an asshole, though. He’ll ruin the whole thing by taking the opportunity to shift into a JL member for a bit.”
Hm. True.
“Yeah, but he’s the main guy I know with that power set.”
“Ask after Desiree?” He could hear the immediate distaste in Tucker’s voice. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that. That’s worse than Amorpho.”
“It’s awful,” Danny agreed easily.
Desiree was actually pretty alright nowadays, mostly on account of Danny remembering the last couple minutes of Aladdin and wishing she could refuse wishes she didn’t want to grant. That had made her happy enough to stop actively picking fights.
Unfortunately, spending the entirety of one’s afterlife twisting the wording of wishes to their worst form made it hard to stop being an asshole. Who knew! So getting Desiree to split him in two for like a week had a 50/50 chance of fucking up his work relationship with the literal league of superheroes irrevocably. And this was his main cash flow right now.
So, no Desiree, no siree.
“Come up with something better then, asshole.”
Danny hummed and, since the heroes below were focused on the demon, lifted up a little and did a thoughtful back flip. What to do, what to do…?
Oh!
“My cousin!” he exclaimed.
“What cous—? Oh, Ellie.”
“Yeah, Ellie, Tuck. Which other cousins do I have?”
Tucker scoffed. “You literally have that whole Nightingale thing going on through your dad?”
Danny couldn’t help the face he made. The remaining Nightingales were worse than his parents somehow. “The Nightingales don’t count.”
“You can’t just say they don’t count.”
“I can say that, actually, and I will. They’re, like, cousins through my great-great-great-grandpa anyway.”
“Isn’t there a fight going on over there? Should you be shooting someone?”
“Yeah, probably.”
He peaked down through the window once more. The heroes must have gotten the first demon to leave while he was talking, because the horned demon fighting them now was a truly unfortunate shade of yellow-green instead of purple. Or maybe it had transformed for some reason? They had it about as in-hand as the other one, though, so Danny definitely didn’t need to go down there. He shot the maybe-new demon in the face real quick.
“Anyway, Ellie can totally help out, she’s been practicing with changing up her looks. She’s also more, uh, malleable than me, what with her situation and all. Looking fully like Phantom shouldn’t be hard.”
Tucker hummed. “She’d try to embarrass you though.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem.” Danny spun in place. “I could bribe her?”
“With what? Her life doesn’t involve needing much cash.”
“She doesn’t get out to the Zone very much. Not many of the inhabited places, anyway. I can promise her the weird apple things Dora’s been growing with Sam’s help, she loved those.”
“If you think that’ll work…” Tucker trailed off dubiously.
Danny laughed. “She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s not gonna fuck over my job if I ask her not to. I’ll just bribe her extra hard for resisting the temptation to mock me.”
“Fair enough.” The clacking of keys resumed. “I’ve really gotta pay attention now, someone’s trying to stop me from getting into this database. Someone half-decent, actually, did they upgrade? Hm. Make sure no one died, yeah?”
“They’re alive. Bye, Tuck,” Danny said, and ended the call.
He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and made his way down the stairs. The fight outside he had been stationed for was basically over—Captain Marvel and Green Lantern (Danny was pretty sure he had accidentally learned the dude’s actual name at some point, but hell if he could remember)—had pulled out the magic restraints one of the other consultants had handed out.
That had probably been Constantine. Ugh. Constantine. Dude could stand to lighten up a little; skulking and smoking all the time wasn’t the base state of someone enjoyable to be around. Then again, Danny knew he annoyed the shit out of some of the league with his own attitude, so he maybe shouldn’t talk. But at least he was annoying with a smile!
Case in point: Danny grinned at the heroes. “Got it handled?”
“Suppose so,” said the Green Lantern, “though a little more help would have been nice.”
Captain Marvel was too busy getting in a minor tussle with the demon to say anything either way.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m like, pretty mortal,” Danny said. “I’m not fucking with demons right where they can hit me. And I did shoot him!”
Green Lantern rolled his eyes, but admitted the point. Danny cheerfully flipped him off anyway.
“I’ll be heading out, then, the hellmouth this guy crawled out of is like three miles away.” Captain Marvel said, hauling the handcuffed demon over his shoulders like a very angry backpack.
“Oh, one more for the road!”
Danny hit the demon with a final water gun shot. Hissing and scrunching their face like a cat, the demon tried to lunge at him. It wasn’t very successful. Weirdly non-verbal for a demon, who usually had to talk to make deals and steal mortal souls, but Danny wouldn’t judge. Might be a minor demon. A really basic imp? Who knew.
“Stop being a little bitch and you won’t get spray-bottled, asshole,” Danny chided.
With a loud laugh, Captain Marvel sped away.
#dp fanfic#dp fic#dp x dc#dp x dc fic#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc crossover#if anyone wants to use this idea feel free lol#my writing
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Tell 'em bout the Twinkie // Dr. Egon Spengler x extroverted!Reader
Summary: Egon takes care of you after a long night on the town with the other Ghostbusters. While somethings are always the same, you surprise him yet again.
I found this hand written in a notebook from two years ago while I was cleaning so I figured id type it up and post it since there wasn't much new stuff in the tag. Dinner is served.
Warnings: alcohol use, drunk reader, sober Egon (obvi), descriptions of scraped knees and cut hands, blood mention, and first aid. Lots and lots and lots of fluff. Possible cringe. shameless use of Twinkie as an emotional allegory
Dr. Egon Spengler was enjoying a rare night of quiet in the firehouse. Janine had scheduled the whole week around the entire group being free tonight. Peter had insisted a little R&R was due in spades. And for Egon that meant spending a quiet night in, lackadaisically charting his mold and fungus, and catching up on relevant literature at his leisure.
But for the rest of the Ghostbusters staff, it meant going out to a nearby bar for drinks and music. That included you, the Ghostbusters resident research analyst (as you were listed on their payroll).
You had been hesitant to leave Egon alone, especially on one of the few nights you wren’t working to the wee hours of the morning or having dinner interrupted by what Winston had dubbed the "bust alarm". Still, the scientist encouraged you to join the others, knowing deep down you wanted to go.
One of the many reasons he admired you was your easy and outgoing nature, your desire to be out in the world. Due to his introverted and nose in his book habits (even worse when he was in college), your extroverted demeanor was probably the only reason you had managed to befriend him. And because he admired it and profoundly enjoyed your company, he never Egon ever wanted to be the reason you didn’t do the things you wanted to.
However, that didn’t mean he had the slightest inclination to join you in a Friday night crowded bar: packed with sweaty people he didn’t want to touch, drinks he didn’t want to drink, loud music he didn’t want to hear, smoky air he didn’t want to breath, and sticky countertops he didn’t want to sit at. And that’s just the reasons he got out before Peter gave up trying to convince him.
So, he was content to gently push you towards the door with the assured promise he’d be happily waiting with for your return with leftover takeout- both of your favorite ways to end a late night since meeting each other as Grad Students. Nothing better than cold noodles after coming home little drunker than you meant to- and well, Egon didn’t drink but did enjoy an excuse for a late night snack (and an excuse to be close to you).
And with the firehouse still and quiet, Egon was enthused, seeing how ectoplasm interacted and affected the growth of his molds, making mental notes to show you.
Aspergillums wouldn’t grow at all, actively decaying at ectoplasmic contact. Cladosporium both grew and decayed erratically with Ecto contact, creating a cascading starburst affect. Alternaria first grew at unprecedented rates but wouldn’t produce spores. Penicillin frew at normal rates but produced an odd smell. Fusarium grew rapidly and abundantly at first but died off just as rapidly.
"Spengie!" A recklessly loud shout, Peter no doubt, echoed from the main entrance, "You gotta marry this girl!”
And thus his quiet night was suddenly over- con. But it meant you were home- pro! Venkman's shout was accompanied by the sound of quick footwork stomping and scuffing above him, and Egon could imagine him doing a little spin around the fire pole. It was Winston’s voice that following in scolding.
"Peter if you don’t shut the hell up, I will leave you at the bottom of the stairs for the night. We both know you won’t make it up by yourself.” His voice was a warning, but Venkman’s voice was cheeky.
"After all we’ve been through, Zeddemore?”
"Especially after all we’ve been through.”
Egon smirked at his friend’s antics, shaking his head as he removed the Trichoderma slide from the microscope, encapsulated it, labeled it, and sorted it into his hobby file base. A well practiced move as a set of footsteps clunked down the stairs to him. His eyebrows twitched.
Those weren’t your footsteps.
And while he loved his friends dearly, they had gotten your company and attention all night. Despite his insistence on your outing, he was feeling uncharacteristically territorial about his night time traditions with you.
"I’d knock but I don’t have a hand." Ray’s voice called out, sounding three quarters of the way down, chipper tone underplayed by a touch of strain. His steps were unaccompanied and you hadn’t called out to him yet- not even a good night. Had you decided to skip takeout all together in favore of crashing on the upstairs couch? If anything, the couch he had in the basement would be better for your REM cycle. Not to mention Egon was also in the basement.
Nonetheless, Egon answered, inviting him into the lab as he rose from his work stool. Finally, Ray turned the corner, silently answering all the scientist’s questions. Because there you were, wrapped around Ray’s back like a proton pack, your own jacket hanging behind the both of you like a cape, your purse on Ray’s shoulder, and shamefully useless shoes in his hand. Rays arms looped under your lax knees, and your arms were loosely around his neck like the worlds drunkest scarf. Meanwhile, your face had tucked into Ray’s neck, between your arm and his collar, now smudged with your lipstick.
There was a momentary flash of jealousy until it was squashed by Egon’s sudden attention to your knees. He tensed, seeing a patch of blood on both knees, staining ripped tights and dripping to your ankles. There was a more subtle smudge of injury on both of your palms.
"What happened?" Egon’s voice was clipped, zeroing in on your wounds as he crossed the lab, suddenly much more worried that you hadn’t even twitched. You were breathing deeply, but hand’t made a sound…
Ray had been expecting this reaction and kept a calm face, "Just took a little tumble, Spengler, see?”
With that, he shook one of the arms holding your legs, jostling you enough to rouse you a little. Without looking up, one of your bloody hands weakly formed a thumbs up before going limp again. Egon looked between your hand and Ray’s face in a mix of disbelief, worry, and irritation. Stantz swallowed thickly, shifting from foot to foot under his friend’s discerning gaze.
"That didn’t answer my question, Raymond.”
It only took one more cold look for Ray to start rambling the truth.
"Awww, don’t Raymond me, Spengs, it was all Peter’s fault, honest! It was like graduation weekend all over again. Venkman wanted a rematch, and, you know, (Y/N) had just enough to drink that she was feeling competitive. They agreed to the same stakes as last time and since you weren’t there (Y/N) placed a bet on your behalf." Ray explained quickly, not managing to hide his happy smile as he moved to gingerly deposit you on the couch. Egon was following like a shadow, taking great care to keep your head from falling back uncomfortably. Graduation Weekend had been the last time you had been carried home like this, only Egon had done the carrying that weekend, after going shot-for-shot with Venkman. After that and the subsequent hangover, you had vowed to 'grow up' and never get too drunk to walk for yourself. Until tonight apparently, Egon mused, brushing some hair out of the dried sweat on your forehead and noting your breathing, heavy but shallow. Not unusual after alcohol consumption. As Ray unlatched your knee from his hip, he perked up, "On the bright side, Peter’s cleaning the soot out of the Proton packs’ exhaust vents for a month! Lost on a technicality.”
"Hmmm." Egon hummed, adjusting you into a more comfortable sitting position as you slowly started to wake up, "Get the first aid kit for me?”
"Sure thing."
Egon watched your slow, scrunched blinks and how you slowly lifted your head to look at him, squinting before deadpanning until the blurry shape came into focus. It was hard to be irritated with you when your flushed face broke out into an unabated, silly grin, half lidded eyes brightening as you called in sleepy excitement, "Egon!"
Spengler took the opportunity to analyze the dilation of your pupils- glassy and dilated, but responsive. Good. He offered you a dry smile to appease you as Ray put the first aid kit beside you. In his other hand were three bottle- another college tradition. A non-FDA approved electrolyte and mineral enriched drink, formulated by Egon when he lived with Peter who was insufferable when hungover. Venkman called it "Liquid Rewind" and begged Egon to patent and copy right it, only after convincing him to add flavoring to mask the terribly bitter taste.
Spengler nodded a thank you as he plucked the red one from Ray’s hand, giving it to you. Ray watched you pressed the chilled bottle against your warm cheek. This left the already opened grape to Ray who sported a purple ring around his mouth and orange for Peter.
"Egon, red is Pete’s favorite." Ray pointed out as Egon started unpacking the first aid kit.
"I know."
"He hates orange." Ray reminded him.
"I know."
Ray nodded slowly, he knew how petty Egon could be when he was irritated, and he didn’t plan to attract the scientist’s wrath. Instead, he cheerfully patted Egon’s shoulder and moved towards the staircase, "Alrighty then, she’s all yours now. G’nite, Spengs."
"Goodnight, Ray. Thanks for getting her home.”
"Well, she sure didn’t make it easy. For a research analyst, she’s pretty slippery." Ray laughed, mostly to himself as he shuffled up the stairs most likely to the bunk room while Spengler pulled on a pair of medical rubber gloves. Egon also knew this from experience- Graduation Weekend he had also done the chasing when you pulled honestly impressive feats of escapism. Now, alone in the lab, Egon was kneeling in front of you in record time.
He took the first aid scissor and made quick work of ripping off your already shredding tights with such an efficiency that if you were in your right mind you probably would have been too flustered to think straight.
Egon ignored your little noise of protest, attractive scientist or not, those had been your good tights. The scientists offered you a cocked eyebrow as he rolled the tights down your legs. You simply sighed as he started gentle strokes to clean the blood off you now bare skin.
"Did you have to give Ray such a hard time?”
The scolding was playful even though delivered with his usual level of directness, still, even drunk you knew him well enough that it made you smile.
"Well, I was actually giving Peter a rough time, Ray just happened to be collateral damage." Sleep was starting to wear off, leaving your words only a little slurred, as if you were taking great efforts to make sure they were clear.
"And what did Peter do to deserve your ire this time?" Egon dousing some gauze with antiseptic. He didn’t flinch at the acrid scent, and usually you wouldn’t either, but this time your nose scrunched as Egon moved in even closer. However, you didn’t flinch in the slightest when he started dabbing at the shredding parts of your knees. Instead, you took the chance to appreciate the view of the good doctor kneeling in front of you, overhead lights casting a halo on his dark curls. It would be the perfect distance to lazily run gentle fingers through those curls. You seriously contemplated, but decided not to. You didn’t want to get blood in his pretty, soft hair. Wait- you were supposed to be answering his question…
"Made an uncouth comment." You sniffed as Egon moved to the next knee to clean the scrape. He hummed again noticing your non answer but not commenting- one problem at a time.
"Most of his comments are uncouth." He pointed out, pausing to smirk up at you, sighing in relief when you giggled. The was a comfortable pause as Egon focussed in on the deepest gash, but not for long.
"How is the ectoplasm variant going?" You asked after going quiet long enough that Egon wondered if you had fallen back asleep.
"I’ll have to show you tomorrow. I want your thoughts." Egon informed, a slight smile and point of pride that you had inquired after his work even in your current state as he dabbed antibiotic cream on your knees, "The Cladosporium is behaving particularly erratic."
"Ugh, my bet was on the Asparagus." You sighed, prodding at the edge of one of the deeper cuts at the top of your knee. Egon gently, but sternly, nudged your hand away, giving you a warning eyebrow before taping large bandage on over one knee.
"Aspergillus." He correct, almost sounding amused as he moved to the next knee, applying the bandage with just as much care, "Hands."
"Yes, doctor." You teased, offering both your palms. Egon gently took your left in his larger hand, using his other to repeat the same process. These scrapes were much less deep, mainly superficial, a product of catching yourself before your head hit the pavement, your knees had taken the brunt of it, but Egon was nothing if not thorough. It was quick work to clean and bandage both palms.
"There, that should prevent an infection." Spengler informed you, holding both of your treated hands in his after disposing of his gloves, he gave them a quick, tender squeeze before pressing the bottle of red ~liquid rewind~ into your grasp, quickly cracking the lid off for you, "Drink that."
"You know I’m not even that drunk." You scoffed, giving him a playful glare but obeying anyway, taking a long pull of the bottle, only stopping to swallow and breathe before going back in. This time both of his brows were raised as he stood, taking the trash from his impromptu clinic to the nearest bin.
"How much have you had to drink, exactly?"
You thought to yourself for a second, raising your eyes to the ceiling and mouthing numbers before tallying them on your fingers while you mentally replayed the night. Egon waited expectantly as he removed his lab coat, getting increasingly more concerned the longer the tally went on.
"Lets see…. approximately pi cubed divided in half times 1.5, minus six."
Egon didn’t even have to think about the calculation, instead being bewildered by the sheer amount of liquor you had managed to imbibe. His voice raised just a bit, mostly in disbelief and concern, "17 drinks?! (Y/N)."
His disbelief sounded more like frustration to you, and your lip wobbled a bit as you lurched forward, regretting the sudden move but powering through as your eyebrows knitted up, looking up to the scientist pleading, voice a whine, "Don’t be mad."
Egon shook his head with a deep sigh, catching your hand as you reached for him.
"I’m not mad. Surprised you’re coherent? Yes. Impressed at your current equational prowess? Definitely." He listed as you weakly pulled him back towards you. Egon nudged the forgotten red stained bottle, "C’mon, a little more."
After a long swallow, you nodded, "Well, after I slipped the boys, I made it pretty far uptown before they found me-"
You had started almost sheepishly, this time expecting Egon’s crinkled eyebrows and interruption.
"They lost you?" He repeated lowly, but you just shrugged, squeezing his hand as you continued your tale.
"Only for an hour, but it was a long walk back home. Well, it was for Ray at least. So I had plenty of time to workshop my math, Ray doublechecked it for me. And I still had time for a nap." You seemed pretty proud of yourself. Egon opened his mouth, eyebrows raising then falling as his mouth closed.
"I see. Is there a particular reason you needed to escape?"
"Noooo…."You dragged out, using his hand to pull yourself out of you slouched sitting, using him to keep yourself steady. Egon didn’t budge, allowing the contact. His head cocked ever so slightly to the side, looking at you over the rim of his glasses. You crumbled instantly, "Yes."
With an innocent smile, you fished into your jacket pockets, patting yourself down with increasing franticness, "I kept going until I could find a 24 hour bodega."
"You ran off inebriated by yourself in the middle of the night to a late night convenience store in New York City? This neighborhood is basically a demilitarized zone. We’re definitely going to have to discuss that." He muttered, checking you over for any injuries he or Ray might have missed. You were undeterred by his scolding because you had found whatever you had been searching for.
"Well, where else was I gonna find these at this hour?" You asked earnestly, revealing two only slightly squished Twinkie's. It was your turn to quirk an eyebrow, "What? Did you think I would forget about our late night snack?”
You were interrupted by a overpowering yawn, eyes suddenly drooping, "Gonna be honest though, don’t think cold Thai food is a great move for me at the moment.
Egon took the slightly squished confection out of your hand, giving it an appraising gaze, before breaking into that signature sideways smile as you leaned into his chest. With all the secrets of the night in the open, you didn’t have much else fighting to keep you awake. Egon his arms around your back, using one hand to rub soothing circles on your back. The good doctor allowed you to stay like that, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. As your breathing slowed, more and more of your weight slumped against him.
Egon didn’t mind, finally getting that close contact he’d been waiting all night for. Instead, he stared down at the twinkie in his hand. The cream was squeezing out of the sponge cake and smearing onto the crinkled plastic wrapper, but you had ventured countless blocks out of your way, escaping three of New York’s ghostbusters, just to pick up something you knew he’d like. Even with 17 drinks actively shrinking your neurons, you were always so thoughtful.
Egon was well aware of how much his friends loved him, and he would always be grateful for finding each of them. But there was always just something different about your love. If Egon possessed a more artistic disposition, he might describe it as a warm ocean wave washing over a beach. Gentle, yet unstoppable. All encompassing. He wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve someone like you to love him like you did, but whatever it was he’d do it a thousand times over- even if it meant cleaning you up after a long night out on the town.
"Did you have a good time tonight?" He asked quietly, feeling you nod into his chest . His sweater was soft against your cheek and he smelled as wonderful as always: earthy yet clean and the slightest hint of something smoky like a full trap or lab experiment gone wrong. After a deep inhale you nodded again through another yawn.
"Mmmhm. ‘missed you though." Your voice had slowed back down to its sleepy, slow tone that Egon would never admit to loving as much as he did, the warmth of him and quiet lulling you. You were fighting to stay afloat, but Egon’s thumbs working slow circles into your back were winning as he answered.
"I missed your company as well."
-
And it was later, when you had fallen into a deep unbothered sleep on the lab’s couch after stealing one of Egon’s t-shirts- the ones he would wear under his jumpsuit-, and using his lab coat as a blanket, that Egon thought about all this, taking a slow bite of his slightly squished gift.
Peter was right. One day, he needed to marry you.
-----
so I tried two somethings new. 1.) tried writing this more from his perspective, which isn't something I really do with any character. 2.) Paired him with a more extroverted out going reader, because I feel like we usually see him paired with more introverted types
anyways I typed this up at 3 am after crying for five hours so please excuse any typos.
#egon spengler x reader#dr. spengler x reader#dr. egon Spengler x reader#ghostbusters x reader#can't believe im writing ghostbusters fanfic in the year of our lord 2021#using that tag bc TECHNICALLY I wrote this in 2021... I just reread and typed and posted it in 2023
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Some musings on how to write Stede. He's genuinely a tough one to pin down because his voice is very him, he'll say things like "methinks" just as readily as "here's the deal, buckos." But I think I've got a few things nailed down and wanted to share in case they help anyone else.
Biggest thing: if you're struggling with getting Stede's voice right, his voice is a hell of a lot closer to Ed's than it is to the Aziraphale-brand "generic posh British" voice. If he's been surprised, Stede's more likely to say "oh shit" than "good heavens," you know what I mean?
My guy is not going to say something like "good evening! I was wondering if you would be interested in doing intercourse with me this fine evening" unless, and this is crucial, it would be funny for him to say that. Sometimes when it comes down to him using a fancier affect your judgment call needs to be based on how funny that line is going to be. Like, that line isn't in character if it's meant to be an example of just how he talks but if it's Stede trying to awkwardly flirt over text then it's fine.
I think that's important so it bears emphasizing: if you're going to have Stede talk overly-posh and use unusually fancy words, it's okay if it's funny. This seems to be the main rule the show uses, too.
Stede is usually polite but he's not timid. He has very few qualms about being a bitch to someone if he knows them well already or if they were rude to him first. Think about him telling Jim that they're "welcome to borrow [his suit]...or, well, look at it." Let queen bitch over here be a bitch!
Stede is ruthless. This doesn't mean he's unkind; it means he's very good at seeing exactly how to get from Point A to Point B and he will commit himself to getting there. The threat Ned Low posed is already neutralized? Doesn't matter. He hurt Ed, he's going down.
Stede's voice is much more formal and flowery when writing than when speaking. Think about "we're joined to one another, intertwined. We wrote our names on each other in permanent ink" in his letter compared to a more simple "I love everything about you" when speaking.
Let 👏🏾 Stede 👏🏾 Say 👏🏾 Weird 👏🏾 Things!👏🏾 This guy is weird, he's a weirdo, he doesn't fit in. If you're thinking to yourself "why the fuck would you say that" you're probably onto something. Let him make weird choices. Stede, especially after a bit of character development, is very himself - if he's a college professor, let him drag a full comfy armchair up to his fifth-floor office. If he runs a sex toy shop, let him proudly show off his invention called "the Cervix-Slammer 9000" that'll leave Ed very satisfied but also unable to walk for a week. Let him be enthusiastic and weird!
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Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit
"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"
You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.
The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.
You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.
"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:
Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.
The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.
You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.
The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.
The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-
What was that?
You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.
"Not funny!"
So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.
"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."
You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.
You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.
As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.
"You..."
Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.
"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."
The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.
"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."
The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.
"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."
The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.
What the fuck just happened
#Fast food reader#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere drabble#yandere teratophilia#yandere monster#yandere x y/n
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Love Favors The Misfortunate
Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader
Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist
Word count: 3.2k
Warnings: Minor Violence
Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?
Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies.
Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?
You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.
This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.
Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole.
Oh, Good.
You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.
You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.
Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body.
You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.
Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.
Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.
A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg.
You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.
You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.
“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you.
“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.
You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.
Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’
She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.
Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.
Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head
“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.
She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”
You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.
“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.
She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't”
You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…
She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.
You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to.
~~~
The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.
You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.
It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.
You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.
What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.
“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.
When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.
You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you.
You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose
“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.
You, one.
Hitlerman, zero.
At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.
She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt.
“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.
“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.
A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding”
The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.
“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.
When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?
You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.
~~~
You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.
Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?
Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks!
Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag.
Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two.
The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was.
You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.
Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.
Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.
She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.
Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it.
This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.
Any second now.
Aaaaaany second now-
A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him.
You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.
By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now.
The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.
Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering.
Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!”
She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.
You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!”
She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man.
Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.
You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind.
She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.
You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.
Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.
When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.
She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.
“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.
Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.
“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile
“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.
“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”
It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?”
She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.
Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”
Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.
“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car.
Kidnapper car.
Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.
Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask
“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”
She punches you in the arm.
A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry
#marvel#fanfiction#fanfic#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#fluff#women of marvel#fluff fic#natasha romanoff#mcu fluff#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha x reader#natasha x you#black widow#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha marvel#natasha romanoff oneshot#natasha x y/n#natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff imagine#upon a starry night writes
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Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???
I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️
-------------------------------------------------------
Luck was never on Steve’s side.
He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.
It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.
And now his parents were home.
He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.
He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.
He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.
His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.
He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.
Wishful thinking.
His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.
“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”
Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.
His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.
“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”
Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.
“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”
Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.
“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”
“Not hungover.”
Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.
“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”
Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.
“Eddie. Call?”
Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.
“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”
“Robin.”
“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”
Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.
Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.
“No. Eddie.”
“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”
His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.
He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.
Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.
Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.
He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.
“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”
“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”
“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”
“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”
He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.
His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.
“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”
“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”
“Loves me.”
“What was that?”
Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.
“He loves me.”
He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.
His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.
When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.
“Robs.”
“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“Eddie?”
“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”
“At me?”
“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”
Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.
But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.
“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.
“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”
“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”
So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.
He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”
“Yelling?”
“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”
“Got me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”
He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.
As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.
“He’s got us, at least.”
“Yeah, he does.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#platonic stobin#steve's parents suck#migraine steve again i know okay#but it's just so gd good#soft and protective eddie#soft and protective robin#requests
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