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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 19

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

#Fluent Freshman AU #Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure #Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps #If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it #Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010 #So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift #Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy #Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off #He looks and it's Roland #Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn #I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's #And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron #I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar #But it got a little too crazy #But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist #Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant #Maybe that's how they got together #The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant #I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content #If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own #RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #FF - Pt.19

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deklo · 5 months

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🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 x a million

#she gets it #i made the mistake of checking twitter ppl are trying to make nora listen to [redacted] fifnjcnfjxmfjfnf #i’ll probably delete this in a few minutes hehe #i’m hoarding screenshots of some of her responses i’m obsessed with tho #i’m being. a hater but that’s ok i am so calm im actually really really calm and having fun #tagged this with *ftg for the dash forgetting it’s going in the tag rip sorry pals who filter ! don’t read

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henry-fox-biggest-stan · 1 month

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It’s SO funny to me when I see movie fans writing alex as this daddy dom, himbo guy because Alex is so!!!

If you scream at him a little too loudly he’ll probably cry, just not in front of you. He falls in love really hard and deeply but it takes him so long to accept that he can also be loved hard and deeply! He has the highest grades ever 1) because he’s smart and 2) because he bases his self worth on making others proud, on being useful. He overworks himself, he runs to clear his head until his feet bleed, his coffee is bitter but so are his thoughts. He’s a softie, who writes his bf love letters and who probably giggles and kicks his feet while reading what henry writes back to him. He can absolutely destroy you in a debate, don’t even try to argue with him he’ll win each time. He talks a lot but he has never been listened to. His rivalry with Henry started with a bad meeting and also with constant comparison, because everyone compared them both, and it was just a constant reminder than Alex will never be enough. Henry was born on the spotlight, Alex wasn’t. Henry was white, Alex wasn’t. Henry had everyone’s support, Alex didn’t. *He is a jester and a devoted knight. He knows hundreds of fun facts and will tell you. He loves Texas despite the bad memories of his childhood and teen years it brings. He feels guilty for making his sister worry so much. He loves his mother despite everything, and she loves him too, but they have an unusual, almost unhealthy relationship. He needs to prove himself every minute of the day. He works as a distraction. He puts on a façade around everyone, golden boy, America’s heartthrob, no one sees his house key, his glasses, the hundreds of papers hidden under the windowsill, the pills stolen from Liam. Someone teach this man healthy coping mechanisms. He is a child of divorce, and this affects him more than he lets on. He is actually a huge nerd. He grew up poor. He was in denial about his sexuality for years. He definitely has abandonment issues. He might be impulsive sometimes (storming Kensington palace after being ghosted by Henry) but he usually thinks things through, and is very reasonable. He makes lists, tons of them. He has undiagnosed adhd and this has shaped him as a person in a way I can’t even describe. Before Henry, bea, and Pez, he didn’t have any friends aside from Nora and his sister. He grew up catholic. He is a romantic. And a dork. He is just as passionate about history as Henry is. But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York Magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.

Always the talker, never the heard. Always good, never enough. Always ogled, never seen. Always the first son, never Alex.

#*jester as in his purpose is to entertain he’s not a person but a performance he has to make others proud make them laugh #and devoted knight as in he’ll overwork himself just to prove himself worthy he loves you it'll destroy him he'll make you proud he'll #destroy himself in the process to do it #alex claremont diaz #rwrb #casey mcquiston #red white and royal blue #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white & royal blue #rwrb book

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artiststarme · 26 days

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Steve had spent his entire life trying to be perfect. He tried to be the perfect son with sports and popularity, he even tried his best with his grades which was evident until his first major concussion. He tried to be the perfect friend to Carol and Tommy H., even the basketball teams and other jocks, by providing free rides, parties in his house, and being a listening ear for their teenage drama. He even tried to be the best Steve he could be after the popularity faded and the demons from the shadows of Hawkins emerged. Nothing was ever enough.

He wasn’t a good enough son that deserved not to be ignored or neglected by his parents. He wasn’t a good enough student to be allowed to get into a good college or even a local community one. He wasn’t a good enough friend to the people in High School and that’s why they left him.

Through everything though, he thought he was a good person afterwards. He helped the kids the best he could, he protected them with his life, and he would do anything to ensure the survival of everyone in the Party. He knew he was good at that.

Or he thought so until he saw Eddie wasting away in a hospital bed with handcuffs on his wrists and blood soaking through the bandages on the mauled skin of his chest. He tried his best to be a good friend that could support the Party until Dustin broke his heart into splinters for something he couldn’t predict.

“You were so jealous of Eddie that you gave him the most dangerous job?! You knew how harmful the demobats were and you sent him there for a reason! That’s why you didn’t let him go with you, you wanted Eddie to die!”

After all he’d done to be good, to be the person people could count on, to be perfect; he still wasn’t enough. The kids still looked at him as the mean boy of the town and if the kids did, what did the others think?

Did Mrs. Byers still see him as the teenage dirtbag that got into a fight with her son and got him arrested?

Did Hopper still see him as the scoundrel that drank underage and threw parties that upset the neighbors in Loch Nora?

How did Nancy see him? She was the person who actually saw him at his worst, the one who opened his eyes to his failures. Did she still see him as the guy that he never wanted to be?

Steve had worked so hard his entire life to be what everyone else always wanted him to be. He hid so deeply beneath fake masks and facades that he didn’t even know who he truly was anymore, he didn’t know if he ever had.

All he knew was that after their latest run-in with the Upside Down, he went home to an empty house. He ignored the broken glass and the damage caused by the earthquake. He only focused on the fact that everyone else was currently with their families. His parents were who knows where doing who knows what but they were together, the only family they had ever wanted.

Robin was at her place with her family, her parents probably doting on her after worrying for so many days. They’d let Steve in but he didn’t want to intrude more than he’d already had. Nancy and Mike were with their parents, Jonathan, Will, and El were with Joyce and Hopper, Lucas and Erica were with the Sinclairs and Max, and Dustin was with Mrs. Henderson and Mews II. Even Eddie in a pain-induced state of unconsciousness was with Mr. Munson.

Despite all of his efforts to be perfect, to be deserving of love and pride, Steve was still alone. He’d worked for years to be someone worth loving, hell, someone worth tolerating, and it still wasn’t enough. All he had were his friends in the Party and after his talk, nay the lecture, from Dustin, he wasn’t even sure he had them. If he didn’t have them, what did he have?

Depression, PTSD, chronic debilitating migraines, night terrors, and scars?

What was the point of anything if that’s all he had? Did he really want to stick around to find out just for things to worsen like they always did?

After years and years of trying to be perfect, Steve realized he never truly would be. The night he got back to his house after watching the rest of his friends reconnect with their families, he packed up the Beemer and left Hawkins in the rear view.

He was sick of the expectations, the disappointments, and trying to reach a standard he could never sustain.

He left his heart behind wrought with guilt at leaving the Party without any notice and leaving before he knew Munson would be alright but he had no choice. If he didn’t have the kids, he had nothing and that was something he couldn’t face.

#Steve hasn’t had an existential crisis in awhile #stranger things #might as well have one today #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson

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writersblockedx · 1 year

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Stalker

Pairing - Marcus Baker x Fem!Reader Summary - Y/n is pushed to confront the boy who can't seem to stop staring at her at school. Warnings - Alcohol & drug use Words - 2K

Masterlist

It had been happening all week. In the middle of talking, doing work or walking down the hallways, Y/n would look up, finding the same pair of eyes trailing her. In the beginning, she must have convinced herself she was imagining it. Marcus Baker wasn't one for wanting to self-illicit anything close to a social interaction. So she ignored it.

Then it started to seem like the boy's eyes were attached to her every move. Y/n had been in the midst of listening to Maxine go on about her most recent date (which hadn't ended well) when she noted the feeling of someone watching. Her back was pressed against the wall, Abby at her side as her gaze found Marcus once again. He didn't look away. His eyes lingered as if he weren't fazed she had caught him.

"Is he doing it again?" Snapped Abby. Her tone wasn't so loud that Marcus could hear from the other side of the hall, but the girl certainly wasn't trying to hide her words.

"Doing what?" Nora joined in.

Y/n lightly shook her head, shifting so she was no longer facing the shaggy-haired boy. "Don't worry about it."

"No." Abby cut in, gaining the attention of more of their friends. "It's getting creepy. If he likes you, he needs to come over and say something." Nora nodded in agreement.

"Can we just leave it?" She requested, but it was never that easy.

"Leave what?" Max questioned, peering over with wiggling eyebrows.

Y/n refused to answer. So Abby did it for her, "Your brother's obsessed with Y/n." The girl glared over at her best friend, wishing she ended this before it hadn't gotten to this point.

Max gave a sharp, mocking gasp, "My brother...and my best friend?" She spoke back to herself. "How scandalous!" Then she relaxed and let out a chuckle. "I mean, I'm surprised you've only just realised his obsession."

Y/n's brows raised at her words, "What?"

Another chuckle left Max's lips. "Oh, yeah." She said. "You should see how jittery he gets when I say Y/n is coming over. It's like he's on crack or something. Think he's too scared to actually talk to you but at the same time, surprised he's kept it in his pants this long."

"So, he just won't stop staring?" Nora inquired.

"Strange way to flirt." Abby added.

"Can we just forget about it?" Y/n asked with a pleasant smile. "I'm sure he'll find some other girl to swoon over."

Max wandered over, throwing an arm around Y/n, looking down at her sympathetically. "You know I love you, which is why I'm telling you, this thing he has for you, isn't something recent."

"It isn't?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" Y/n shook her head. "He's been in love with you for like a year. You're gonna have to let him down lightly. Or don't, he could use a punch to his ego."

Y/n swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat. Still with Max's arm slung around her shoulder, the girl slowly looked back. She located Marcus within a split second. He was still sat in the same place, his eyes still lingering over her and in an act to play off the last five minutes, she flash a small smile. Something which, while it took a moment, was returned to her.

Nothing more happened for the rest of the week. Just glances. Some of which were now prompted by Y/n's eyes as she started staring at him first. Granted, when she did that it was in wonder if he was already looking at her. Which, most times, he was.

Friday rolled around and while Y/n was relieved for the weekend, she couldn't escape the party Max had planned. In celebration of the part she received in the newest play, she begged Ellen to let her host another party in their house. After enough asking, the woman agreed and for another Friday night, a house was littered in cheap fairy lights, illegal substances and dancing teenagers.

"Isn't this so great?" Whined Maxine as she tumbled into her friend. "This was such a good idea."

Y/n wasn't nearly as drunk as half the people around her. "Sure, Max." She replied.

"You know what else is a good idea-"

"No, no, no, Max you know it's not a good idea." The girl was already reaching for her phone, desperate for the urge to message her ex.

Y/n tried to wiggle her fingers between Max's, but it was no use, the message was already being typed. "It's just- it's one message. Its closure, Y/n." She wasn't sure who Max was trying to convince with that.

The girl hummed, still trying to take a grasp of her phone. "And you will kill me in the morning if I don't stop you right now." She said. Her eyes scanned over the room, widening as they spotted Abby and Nora talking to the boys not too far away. "Abby! Nora!" She called across the blaring music.

The two girls glanced over. And all they needed was a glance to realise what was occurring. The pair came rushing over and suddenly, it became a fight for the phone. And for a second, it looked like Max might be winning. "No, no, it's fine." She tried to convince.

Abby wiggled her fingers between Max's cheering as she got grip on the phone and Max's hand slid away. "Finally." The girl huffed. "Would you get her something?" Abby asked Y/n.

Y/n glanced back at Brodie who was smoking the last of what they had. "I don't think that's going to be possible right now." She answered.

"What about Marcus?" Nora suggested, carefully. "He's bound to have some."

Abby looked over to Y/n, her expression silently questioning if she would be okay with that. "And you need me to go?" She checked over once more - just in case the answer changed.

A slurring Max was hanging from Abby and Nora was desperate to spend some quality time with her boyfriend; of course it had to be her. "At least if you go, we'll know we'll definitely get some." Abby shrugged, sending a sympathetic smile.

She sighed but started shifting on her feet anyway, "You both owe me, big time." She said to them, pointing her index finger between the two as she started strolling backwards towards the stairs.

Y/n soon found herself in the upstairs hallways. Many doors. And only one led to Marcus' room. Of course she had been up here many times before, but that only ever really consisted of Max's room. Alas, she wandered through, knocking against the one she believed to be Marcus'. Suppose she got lucky too.

"Yeah?" Called a voice from the other side.

Slowly, the girl pushed the door open, finding the shaggy-haired boy laid lazily across his bed. There laid a sketch book in his grasp as he had one earphone hanging out. "Hi." She forced a polite smile to her lips. "You got any weed on you?" What was the point for small talk anyway? She had a plan: get in, get a joint and get out.

Marcus shifted, sitting up as he threw his earphones to one side. "You came in here to ask for illegal drugs?" He reiterated.

She tensed, "Erm, yeah?"

The boy let out a chuckle before stepping from his bed. "Relax, I'm messing with you." Y/n didn't dare move from the space she took in the room as the boy wandered toward his dresser. He pulled out one of the draws, shifting through his clothes before returning with his two joints between his finger tips. "Rules are though, you smoking my stuff, you smoke it with me."

"It's not for me." She interjected. "It's for your sister." She watched as slowly, a certain speckle faded from his pupils. "I can try and bring her up if you'd want, but she's pretty wasted-"

"No, no, that's alright." His eyes darted to the floor, anywhere which weren't Y/n's eyes. That is, for once, anyway.

An awkward silence followed that Y/n made sure she filled. "She's just a bit, emotional right now. Abby thought it would calm her down." She explained. "She's been going through a lot, you know with the-"

"Break up." He finished for her. "Yeah, trust me, I know." Another pause. Another moment of awkward silence. Marcus passed over one of the joints, "Here."

The girl took without a word. She nodded her head and spun on her feet and headed for the door. She should have walked straight through. She should have tried to forget the very awkward situation she had just experienced. But something seemed to be pulling her back. Maybe it was the curiosity, maybe it was just the alcohol. Probably the latter if she were being honest.

But, she turned, finding Marcus still stood in the same spot. And with a rush of courage, she asked, "Why do you keep me staring at me?" She almost surprised herself more than Marcus when the words slipped from her lips. At first, she had herself second-guessing if she had really just said them.

A moment passed before Marcus responded, "Because I think you're pretty." His tone was matched with a nervous laugh as his gaze met her.

"Then why didn't you just say so?"

He shrugged, "I'm saying something now." The boy took a cautious step closer, uncertain if he was reading this correctly. "And I'm sure Max told you for me, didn't she?"

A smile rose to her lips as she recalled the girl's words from earlier in the week. "Maybe." Y/n uttered.

"If you want me to stop, I'm sorry, I will-" He started to ramble as the thought struck his mind.

But, Y/n cut him off before he could get much further, "It's fine." She cooed with the flash of her smile once more.

He took another step and there seemed little room between them now. "Yeah?" He questioned, so close Y/n could feel the breeze of his breath.

She nodded, trying to hide the way her eyes had flickered to his lips. "Yeah."

They lasted a moment which such little space between them. It was like cat and mouse. Like they were trying to catch each other out. Like a game of chess. But Marcus gave in first. He closed the gap between them, his hand cupping her cheek as their lips met, molding against each other.

When they pulled away, they had the same expression, the same grins plastered across their faces. Their foreheads hovered against each other as Y/n muttered, "I should probably get this to Max."

He nodded as they stepped away and Y/n grasped the joint. "I'll leave this door open." Marcus told her as she slowly started slipping back out into the hallway. "You know, if you just happen to find yourself up here again."

"Sounds like a good plan." She stole once last glance at the boy before turning on her heels and wandering back down stairs.

Marcus was left staring at an empty space, all smitten and drowning in awe.

Y/n tried to hide the grin on her face she returned to the party. The music still blared and Max was still whining. "But I still love her!" The girl went on.

"Oh, thank God!" Exclaimed Abby as Y/n came into sight, jogging over to them and passing the joint over. "I'd ask what took so long, but I don't want to know."

"Were you making out with my brother?" Inquired Max.

Y/n played it off as well as she were able, "No, Max. No lips were touching." She replied, feeling a shiver as she thought back to the kiss.

Max hummed and leaned over, "Oh, yeah? Then why is your lipstick smudged?" And like that, with that bomb dropped, Max lit her joint and pretended as if she had said nothing. All while Y/n flushed pink.

#marcus baker x reader #marcus baker #marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x y/n #marcus baker x you #marcus baker oneshot #marcus baker fanfic #ginny and georgia #ginny and georgia fanfic #ginny and georgia imagine #ginny miller #georgia miller #x reader #fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction #imagine

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idksmtms · 3 months

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Silence - Emmett (AQPII) x Younger!reader

Summary: You had seen Emmett before everything went to hell, but you didn't actually know him. Now though? Now he was all you had. He was everything.

Word count: 3.9k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (both characters are still 18+), p in v s*x, fingering, daddy kink, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, attempting to exchange sex for services (doesn’t actually happen tho), mental health struggles, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the A Quiet Place or A Quiet Place Part 2 characters. I do not claim to own any of these characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You hadn’t known it was him when you had followed the man in the abandoned factory down the chute. You hadn’t known it was him when you had landed with a thud right behind him and he had whirled on you as the screeches from the monster above echoed metallically over you. You still hadn’t known it was him when he had pulled you away from the entrance and into the old pipe and shut the door behind you and sat just in front, heaving and staring out of the little window inlaid in the door. But then, with shaking hands he had pulled down the scarf over his face and stared at you like you were somehow the craziest part of this new world, and simply uttered the words “what the fuck.” You had jumped forward then, slamming your palms to his mouth and widening your eyes to try and communicate how stupid he was being, but he just shoved you off and waited until you had sorted yourself into a seated position once more to speak. “They can’t hear us down here, especially if you whisper.” You stared at him, listened to the rough gravel of his voice, and it finally clicked in your mind who this was.

You remembered Emmett from before. He had run the garage in your town and your dad always took your car there to get it fixed. You had never talked to him much, just a hi or hello there if you went to the garage with your dad or if you bumped into him somewhere in town, and it was alright considering you had just graduated high school when the creatures landed. Sure, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen, but it’s not like you thought about that much (you used to think about it all the time). You guys didn’t have much business with each other, he was a married man, so what did it matter? He had been your favourite naive high school crush. But that’s all it was. Then the creatures landed and any feeling other than survive, survive, survive, hadn’t entered your head since.

“Mr. Emmett?” You finally whispered, hands pressed close to your mouth out of fear. You didn’t remember the last time you had spoken. What had been the last thing you said?

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, clasping your hands together and rocking back and forth slightly. The air was getting stuffier and you could feel your lungs getting tighter. Then something started beeping and he reached over and opened the door. He jumped out and began pacing as you clambered out of the pipe like a human spider.

You finally got a chance to look around the space you had fallen into, and it was… quaint. There was no better word really, because it wasn’t nice but it was much better than some places you had been. A pile of cushions and sheets and maybe a duvet (you couldn’t tell) made up a sleeping area in the corner. There were a pair of folding chairs across a makeshift coffee table with an oil lamp on it on the other side of the space and pieces of paper were tacked up on the wall above them. They were drawings, you quickly realised, of three different people over and over again. Was it his wife and kids? You could recognise Nora, but you had never paid particular attention to his kids, so is that what they looked like?

You turned to Emmett and it seemed he had come to a decision. He began shaking his head and you knew exactly what he was going to say. Dread filled your stomach, filled every bone and every skin cell. You had barely survived on your own on the journey to finding this place. The group you had been with before… they were either picked away or went crazy but they had also been the reason you survived this long. You were, for lack of a better term, useless at survival. Other people had hunted for you, other people had killed for you, all you could do was watch over things, and run.

“Please,” you began to whisper in a hurry, “please don’t make me go. Please, Mr. Emmett,” you rushed over to him, clasping his forearms and forcing him to look at you. His eyes were haunted, and you were sure he had seen terrible things, things that would stay with him till he eventually succumbed to whatever death awaited him in this new wasteland, but so had you. “Mr. Emmett, I can’t survive out there on my own,” your voice was clogged with tears now, your eyes shiny and dripping onto your cheeks, “if I don’t die as soon as I step out of here, then it’ll be within a few days, at most a week. I can’t do anything on my own Mr. Emmett, I’m fucking useless!” You sobbed, a sound so loud he slapped a hand over your mouth and hushed you aggressively, but you continued crying, leaning into his hand as you blubbered.

This was the first time you had cried since that first day. There had been no time to cry later, always on the run, always worrying about something, and now it was finally hitting you. Your world was truly ending, and these last-minute grabs to try and save it weren’t going to work.

“Sh, sh, alright,” he whispered, “alright, just calm down, just calm down and be quiet.”

You pressed your lips together and pulled away, wiping at your eyes and trying to quell the need to hiccup out more sobs. Emmett sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead, eyes closed as he shook his head and muttered to himself.

“Please, Mr. Emmett,” you whispered again, looking up at him with those big eyes of yours that made his resolve melt. “I’ll do anything for you, anything,” you dropped your backpack to the floor and began pulling up the hem of your tank top. You had never had the luxury of a jacket, and there were many cold nights barely survived in this tank top, but after a while you had learnt to be thankful for every little thing you had.

You looked him in the eyes as your shirt began to rise, no shame, just desperation. Just as the hem reached the undersides of your breasts, he reached out and grabbed your hand so tight your knuckles began to hurt.

“Stop,” he bit out, staring at the floor as he forced your hand back down your stomach. Once he was sure you were covered up again, he looked at you again and sighed like the weight of the world had come crashing back down on his shoulders all over again. “You can stay, but you at least have to learn how to use a gun, in case I’m not here.”

“Yes, yes anything,” you breathed out, and launched yourself onto him, hugging him around the neck and pressing your cheeks together. Oh how long it had been since you had hugged someone. He was so warm and you could feel his firm frame under his clothes. Clearly it had been just as long for him since he hadn’t even bothered to reciprocate, hands hanging at his sides and body frozen. Slowly you released him, stepping back and staring at the ground as he cleared his throat and turned away to do… something. Whatever a person needs to do nowadays.

He had sacrificed some of his sheets and pillows for you to make your bed, but you didn’t stray too far from his own setup, wanting to know that there was someone with you when you were going to sleep. You had quickly fallen into a routine within the next few days of living together. You would wake up when you heard the rustling of his sheets, spending some time washing up and nibbling on just enough food to quiet the growls in your stomachs. Then he would sit in one of the folding chairs and draw, the soft scratching of his pencil against paper filling the space. You occupied the other chair and began to work your way through the small pile of books he had. Sometimes both of you would look up simultaneously if you heard a click or a creak echo down the chute, but when it was silent once again you would return to your own activities without saying a word.

On the third day, he decided to venture out to gather more food and water. You had watched him ready himself for the trip, wrapping the scarf around his face, gathering up his shotgun, then climbing the ladder without a look back. You had tried to read while he was away, but your mind couldn’t focus. At every sound, or even the illusion of sound, your head snapped to the chute to see if he was back. Eventually you abandoned your seat and began to pace, staring at his drawings and sifting through the pages of his journal. There were a lot more drawings in there, and you wondered how he had chosen the ones to put up. Even the half-finished ones were beautiful, and you felt a sudden onset of tears as you turned page after page of their faces. You were careful not to let a tear fall on any of the papers, and gently set it back down, caressing the leather cover for a moment before going to his pile of sheets and settling down for a nap on top of them.

You woke up when he returned. You hadn’t realised how much noise actually happened just by two people existing, but the sound of his feet on the ladder rungs, his panting breaths, even the rustle of his clothes suddenly seemed so loud after the hours of quiet solitude. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, watching as he set out the supplies before walking over to you and handing you something. He didn’t comment that you were on his bed, and you didn’t make any move to get up, and he just went back to his chair journal. You stared at the pile in your hands, five new books in various states of decay, but all readable. They must have been a completely unnecessary weight for him, only a hindrance and a danger, but he had brought them. For you. You stared at the pile in your hands, a collection of paperbacks you had never heard of, and then you looked at him. He was busy with the journal, head bent low over the paper, and something bloomed in your chest, filling you up with all this… happiness? Joy? Love? You weren’t sure what those felt like anymore but it must be close.

Two weeks after you had arrived in his little sanctuary, winter truly began to set in. It had started to become colder at night, and you were lucky enough to be sheltered away from any winds, but the chill that settled in the air at night seeped into your bones. For the first week you could survive by bundling up as tight as possible in all your blankets and a jacket that Emmett had scavenged for you. But with every night that passed, even that wasn’t enough to keep the cold out, and most of your nights were spent awake and shivering, hoping you wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

At last, on one particular night, you truly couldn’t handle the cold anymore, and you decided enough was enough. Heaters didn’t exist anymore, but body warmth was a natural heater, and you had a perfectly good body nearby. You turned over under your blankets and slowly began shifting your way over to his pile. You could see his body moving under his blankets with every breath, and you were sure he was still awake, because why wouldn’t he be? Who could sleep in this cold, even Emmett? You managed to make your way to his bedding and slipped under his blankets. Emmett turned over, staring at you in the dark, but you just continued burrowing yourself closer to him until your head was pressed under his chin and your arms and legs were wrapped around him. Once you had felt the warmth emanating from him, there was no turning back. He only had on a t-shirt under the blankets and he shivered whenever your skin made contact with his. You were freezing cold yet he was hotter than the sun. The skin on his arms was soft, and you lightly ran your hands up and down it before wrapping him up in your arms once more.

At first, Emmett didn’t move. Again, he was frozen, just like when you had hugged him. But slowly, as the quiet settled in again and both of your breaths evened out once more, he moved his arms to wrap around you in return, pressing you close to his chest and splaying his hands over your back. Every breath he took ruffled your hair and your every breath fanned his neck. Both of you were quiet, soaking in each other’s touch. It had been aeons since either of you had felt the sustained touch of another person, had just been held by another person. It was an indescribable comfort that you now deemed essential to your survival.

From then on, every night passed in this fashion. You would wriggle your way into his cocoon of blankets and he would wrap you up tight in his arms, pressing his lips to the top of your head without a thought. It made life seem better somehow. Waking up every morning in his arms, knowing that that’s how the day was going to end made everything more… bearable.

Three weeks later Emmett ventured out on another supply trip. You had silently been having a particularly difficult day. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything, neither your book nor the pencil drawings you had picked up since being around Emmett. Your mind felt hyperactive but so overly tired at the same time and you wanted to venture out for a walk but you knew Emmett would have a fit if you left the space without him. Instead, you settled down on his bed and waited for him to come back once more. When he did return, again carrying a small pile of books, you didn’t bother getting up to greet him like you usually did. You stayed curled up on the sheets and stared at the wall, overcome with a wave of despondency that made you feel paralysed. Emmett watched you as you lay there, and after putting away all the supplies, came to lay down beside you. He hesitated before touching you, unsure how to handle this mood, but eventually decided to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back until you were flush to his body.

He had grown overly fond of you in the time since you had invaded his life. You had become life itself to him. At first he had dreaded the thought of caring for someone else. After the way it had ended with his children and Nora, he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone but himself. He would have no regret of his own death. But then you started complimenting his drawings and trying to make the little hovel prettier wherever you could. You told him stories of your life before while you guys ate or you simply existed beside him, a presence always there to reassure him. And it made his heart feel all warm and reminded him what was so good about being alive in the first place.

He had thought about what people would have said about you two if the apocalypse hadn’t happened. He had thought every single judgemental thought about how young you were and how old he clearly was next to you. But then he remembered that this wouldn’t have happened without an apocalypse anyway. The world was gone, and with it norms and propriety. While he still had his values, he also recognised you were an adult now, and in this world it didn’t matter if he was older. All that really mattered was if you felt the same way about him.

Emmett pressed his lips to the back of your head and waited, listening to your breaths shudder slightly as you pressed back against him, hands coming up to clasp his. You ran your thumb over his knuckles a few times before turning over to face him. You clasped his face in your hands and made sure he met your eyes. He could see that they were shiny but no tears had fallen yet.

“Don’t leave me alone anymore,” you whispered, “I can’t stay here waiting for you to come back wondering if you even will. I feel sick to my stomach every time you walk out because you are all I have left. If you die out there, then I have no reason to keep living. You carry my heart with you everywhere you go, right here,” you gently patted his chest, “so I can’t have you going out there without me anymore. I can’t. If you die, I die.” Emmett stared into your eyes. You were so serious, not a single stutter in your words, and all he could do was whisper ‘ok’ in return. You nodded, still grasping his face in your hands, before moving forward and kissing him gently.

Emmett pushed himself even closer to your face, his nose pressing into the crevice between your nose and cheek, and slipped his tongue into your mouth. His hand slid under your shirt, tickling the warm skin as he ran it up until he was grasping your breast in his hand. He couldn’t get enough of you already. Your mouth was so soft and each kiss became more ravenous as both of you pressed your open mouths together. He gripped your breast and squeezed revelling in the breathy sounds you let into his mouth, rubbing your nipple and pinching it, flicking the little nub until you were moving your hips without realising.

Emmett moved over you until he was settled into the space between your legs and began grinding into you, settling his weight onto your body. You pulled away from his mouth and hurriedly lifted off your shirt. You began tugging at his but he just pushed your hands away and threw it off himself. Everything had escalated so quickly that neither of you had patience for anything but getting him inside of you as quickly as possible. The air around you had become boiling hot and the space between you was stifling.

He was quick to unbutton your pants and push them down until one leg had been freed. Neither of you cared about the other leg. His own were pushed down just until he was freed and he let out a groan of relief right into your ear. When you began trying to push him down and into you, he pressed down on your hips and hushed the whines that burst out of you.

“I have to prep you, come on baby,” he kissed your cheek, your chin, your neck, then reached down to the apex of your thighs. You were wet all over and so hot he could feel the heat before he even touched. He panted into your neck as he began gliding his fingers along your pussylips, pressing between them and twisting his index and middle fingers so they were covered in your slick. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby,” he muttered into your neck, pressing his fingers to your clit. “My baby’s dripping all over and it’s all for me, huh?” He seemed to be talking to himself as it didn’t matter if you answered or not. You were too lost in the sensations of his rough fingertips running back and forth over your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing and pinching until your legs were trying to close around his hand and your hips were wriggling.

“Daddy, please,” you whispered, and he groaned so loud you rushed to slap your hand over his mouth. God it had been so long since a woman had called him that. If he wasn’t careful he would cum from humping your leg. Emmett pushed a finger into you and instantly started up a rhythm. He felt your squishy insides and the texture of your walls and curled his fingers every time he pushed them into you. Your legs had fully tightened around his hand that he couldn’t see it anymore but it didn’t matter, as long as he could move it and watch the way you scrunched up your face, panting into the air, he could die a happy man.

It took you all of two minutes to reach your peak like that, clit bullied and filled with his fingers. Once you had begun to come down, he was quick to pull his hand away from you and focus on prying your thighs apart again. The sticky sound of your thighs opening up was music to his ears and he lined himself up to your entrance. You were still a little sensitive from your first orgasm and the feeling of him spearing through you made you convulse. You dug your nails into his shoulders and cried out but he had already covered your mouth with his hand. He pressed in until your hips met and his pelvis squished your clit through your folds. He took a moment to breathe heavily against your neck, adjusted himself slightly, and keeping his hand over your mouth, began to thrust into you. You bit into his palm but he only grunted and kept on, slamming into you over and over. You were jelly, you were a hot melted pool of pleasure, ready to be used for whatever he desired. Your legs felt like they were being zapped with electricity and your arms were so tight that they might fall off if you let go of Emmett.

The pleasure began to climb, and you could feel it building in your stomach. The tingles sped up, and the pressure increased until you were clenching down on him over and over again. His pace faltered at the feeling but he was quick to get back at it. He reached down to press harshly at your clit but it was too harsh at first and you jolted away from him with a yelp. He shushed you and gently began rubbing it in circles and you came all over him. The tightening from your orgasm triggered his own and he pushed inside you fully and began twitching, grunting like a wild beast into your shoulder. He had bit down onto the flesh and you could still feel his teeth there even when he pulled away to begin kissing you.

Both of you lay there for a while, just feeling everything in your bodies. Once the sweat had cooled on your skin, you turned over and whispered into Emmet’s ear, “I love you.”

And when Evelyn Abbott and her family came falling into Emmett’s little sanctuary, what they weren’t expecting to encounter was a pregnant young lady with him.

#a quiet place ii #a quiet place #emmett x reader #emmett a quiet place #cillian murphy #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place part ii #cillian murphy smut #cillian fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy characters #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillianmurphy

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morehotch · 8 months

Text

each time you fall in love

how your boyfriend turned into your husband and how the two of you started and grew a family

spencer reid x reader, parent au, dad!spencer x mom!reader, time jumps (parts w/ pregnant reader), 2.5k

Your thing with Spencer is really good, sometimes it just feels too good and too right. Everything feels like it’s fallen so effortlessly and perfectly in place. You definitely don’t want to jinx anything, but after eight months of officially dating- and two years of mutual pinning through work, Spencer has been absolutely everything you wanted and needed in a guy.

It’s easy to talk to him, to laugh; to tell him anything. Spencer wants to get to know you, to understand and help you. When you talk, he listens with his eyes never leaving yours and a soft smile always dancing on his lips. And during moments like these, when you're lying in bed, limbs tangled together, his large palm over your waist, and when you pet his bed head and he smiles sleepily- you never, ever want Spencer to leave.

Spencer watches you now with a dazed, blissed look of total comfort. One you love so much on him, one he deserves so much. He smells like your clean sheets and his usual wood and sea salt cologne as his warm fingers trace different patterns against your shoulder.

You both have been slowly convincing each other to get up eventually and tackle your Sunday plans of grocery shopping and putting together Spencer's new book shelf he ordered after he outgrew his other one. But it’s been over an hour of falling back asleep and slowly blinking awake and neither of you has made much progress yet.

“Do you ever think about having kids?” Spencer asks suddenly, making you twist in his arms to look at his sweet face and dazed eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper, watching how intensely curious he looks. “Sometimes."

You subconsciously match his small smile, thoughts of an incredibly wholesome future together making your heart unfairly twist in excitement and want. “I think about it all the time with you,” you continue and Spencer grins instantly. You've seen how delicately and kindly Spencer interacts with children, how naturally warm and gentle he is. You wouldn't admit it, but even before you were dating, you had a few fleeting thoughts about Spencer as a father.

“Really?” He asks and you smile, hand running down his bicep, “Of course.”

Spencer is quiet for a while before he speaks again. "And, you think- you think I'd be a good dad, right?”

Your eyes soften as you roll over to kiss him. “Absolutely.”

Spencer just looks at you like you said something entirely captivating and consuming.

“What?” You smile, pressing your lips against his jaw gently, "I'm just telling you the truth."

“I just want it so badly, I don’t know.” Spencer bends his arms to rest them behind his head. He watches you, totally suddenly peaceful and content. “I want so much with you.”

2 years later

You wake up to the muffled sound of Spencer's voice, momentarily wondering if he’s on the phone but you smile to yourself when you listen closely and hear his softer and higher tone- his baby voice. You excitedly make your way to your kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and appreciating the scene in front of you. Spencer is carefully holding your daughter, Nora, with both arms, walking around the kitchen, while simultaneously trying to make eggs.

He has messy bed hair- similar to yours, a now permanent fashion statement in the Reid household, and stubble dotted along his jaw. You listen to his soft whispers and your heart swells as your baby’s small fingers cling onto his white undershirt and her chubby hand grasps at his arm, softly patting over his chest.

Spencer has his back to you so you stay unnoticed, enjoying the serene beauty of your husband and daughter together. Nora is already almost eight months old and time felt like it was flying by- even if the sleepless nights felt incredibly long. Now, even if time alone and a longer than five-minute shower felt like a luxury, you couldn’t and don’t want to remember a time without Nora.

You absolutely love watching Spencer with her, you love watching the way he so gracefully and perfectly assumed the role of being a father, especially after the late night conversations you had when you were pregnant when Spencer tearfully admitted his fears of his ability to be a good father when he lacked one as a child. But between Spencer's reading of basically every pregnancy book on the market and the way Nora kicked immediately at the sound of Spencer's voice, it was quickly obvious he had nothing to worry about.

You love how attentive he is and how much he dotes on her and takes care of you at the same time. How he diligently learned how to cook- and make fresh, healthy baby food, how he reads a ridiculous amount of baby books to Nora daily, and how he insisted on making sure you get at least minimum of a few hours of sleep a night.

You watch him bounce Nora gently, leaning against the doorframe and you smile silently until your daughter spots you from behind his shoulder. She reaches out and giggles with a tiny grin and Spencer turns around, mirroring her smile, which looks enduringly similar to his own.

“Need help?” You ask as Spencer laughs. “There’s probably a more effective way to make breakfast but I didn't want to put her down.”

Nora stretches her arms out towards you and you reach over to gently grab her from his hold. "Coffee?” He asks, knowing your answer.

“Yes please,” you smile down at Nora, her soft hairs and long lashes. She leans her head against your chest, already comfortable in your arms. You watch Spencer stand on his tiptoes to grab a coffee mug and you press a kiss to the crown of Nora's head.

What a nice morning.

“Come take a picture!” Spencer says and your daughter giggles and toddles over to you, hurrying as fast as her tiny legs can carry her, bound in a large winter coat, mittens, and ear muffs. A tiny chubby arm extends out to you- a wordless ask for stability and help. You smile as she struggles to wrap her small arms around your shoulders, tiny hands grasping your jacket. Her full pink cheek smushes against yours as Spencer positions the picture, grinning behind the camera, “Your first snow this year, baby!”

Spencer had retired from the BAU and started teaching full time only a year and half after Nora was born, determined to be there for his daughter and that meant so many more family moments like these. Mornings like these when you wake up beside your husband and you're both there to see one of Nora's firsts.

“Snow!” She says loudly, head straining up towards the sky with fascination. She had just started talking and loved impressing everyone with her linguistic skills, taking her limited vocabulary very seriously as she already loved to talk and communicate with the two of you. Spencer loved entertaining her- and himself, by sitting her in his lap and reading her favorite books, the ones she had memorized, together.

“Smile!” He says excitedly, grinning behind the large camera.

Nora listens, with grin that has always looked exactly like her father’s. Your arm finds its way to the small of her back, holding her securely as Spencer takes the picture.

“Perfect,” he mutters, more to himself, watching his family in front of him.

“What’s the surprise?” Nora cries, toying with the hem of her shirt. Her anxious gaze darts back and forth between you and Spencer, upset that you both know something she doesn’t.

At three years old, Nora hates feeling like she’s being excluded from something. The hardest part of her routine is now attempting to convince her that it's bedtime and neither of you would dare have fun without her while she's sleeping.

Spencer hands her a small transparent piece of film and your daughter plays with it gently, turning it around in her palm. “What does this mean?” She questions, not able to stay still and scooting towards you with wide, curious eyes.

Spencer holds her close to his body, wrapping an arm around her as she gives him her full attention. “It means in a couple of months you’re going to be an older sister.” Nora blinks with her mouth open, she has friends in preschool who were younger siblings or already had younger brothers or sisters. Spencer's cousin recently had twins and Nora was completely fascinated by how tiny they were and that there were two babies.

You knew Spencer always wanted Nora to have at least one other sibling and the timing had finally felt right for the first time since she was born a few years ago.

“Really?” Her voice grows louder in pure excitement, looking at you in awe before her eyebrows furrow, confused. “Why not right now?” She pouts, immediately turning to her father for an explanation.

Spencer laughs loudly with an endeared smile that is always reserved solely for Nora. “That’s not how it works, angel." He pulls her into his lap, noting that patience is still hard a hard virtue for a three-year-old.

You’re tucking Nora into bed a few nights later when she brings up the baby again.

“There’s a baby in there?” Nora asks, pointing to your stomach where a small but noticeable bump began to show. After Spencer's scientific but three- year old friendly explanation, Nora has been fascinated with her younger sibling, always asking you and Spencer about babies. It had even made Spencer briefly tear up one night, hit with the realization Nora wasn't a baby anymore. Even though you quickly reminded him she still was only three.

“Yes, sweetheart,” you laugh as she smiles widely. “Wow,” her big eyes fill with excitement and curiosity. She reaches out and lays a small, warm hand on your stomach, “Hi baby.”

You smile at your daughter, already knowing what a great sister she'll be. She grips the comforter tightly as she moves to your side to cuddle you closer. “Love you,” she mumbles, eyes tightly shut, trying to lull herself into sleep.

“I love you too,” you say quietly and you eventually think she’s successfully asleep, tucked tightly next to you until she whispers cutely, “I love you baby.” You feel a small tap on your stomach and she snuggles closer, satisfied and closes her eyes for a peaceful sleep.

“Look!” Your daughter calls as she thrusts a picture towards Spencer, a pink and purple fingerprinted flower. He takes her in his arms, “For me?” Spencer grins, looking at her art. Spencer loves her artwork and his office at the university is filled with her masterpieces.

Nora's arms find his shoulders. “No,” she giggles, “for Mommy!” She finishes, still laughing at Spencer's reaction.

Spencer pretends to look hurt, pouting, “Well, can I have one too?” he asks. Nora thinks about it for a few moments, face twisting in thought, “Okay!” The little girl decides and Spencer's smile grows instantly, “Thank you, baby.”

She frowns, chiding her father with a grin, “I’m not baby.”

“You’re not?” Spencer asks surprised and she nods approvingly. “Yes, the baby is in mommy right now,” she explains, looking at him to confirm he understands.

“Ahhh,” Spencer nods knowingly, smiling tugging on his lips, “I see. You’re right. You're so smart, my big girl.” Nora hides her smile, leaning against Spencer's shoulder and tucking her face into his chest.

“You’re still my baby though, right?“ He whisper as Nora buries her face further into his shirt, giggling out a sweet, “Yes."

Nemo has been the chosen movie for your weekly movie night- for the fourth time in a row, because Spencer can never find it in him to say no to Nora and she is somehow still incredibly invested in Nemo's storyline. But now, as the end credits of Nemo play, Nora sits in Spencer's lap, letting him braid her hair. You’re laying next to them, a blanket draped over you as Spencer watches you sleep peacefully, getting your well deserved and needed rest.

Nora sighs against Spencer's chest as he pats her shoulder. "Let’s go to bed, angel.”

She lets her father hoist her up and carry her into her room, the one right down the hall from yours, with pink walls and a newly upgraded twin bed.

“Daddy,” she whispers suddenly, clutching her favorite teddy bear like she's nervous. “Will you still love me even if I’m not a baby anymore?”

Spencer blinks and brushes back stray hairs from her face with a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his heart breaks inside his chest. “Of course honey, I could never not love you, never ever.”

“Ok, daddy,” Nora smiles to herself, seemingly satisfied.

“Will you still love me?” Spencer asks and she giggles loudly.

“Yes!”

“I had to make sure!” He defends and Nora squeals, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing tight.

“Nora," Spencer finishes seriously, "Mommy and I will love you forever.”

“The baby is going to be small,” Spencer explains, walking Nora through the hospital halls as she swings their interlocked hands back and forth excitedly.

“Okay,” Nora bounces. “Isn’t it cool, daddy, that baby and I have the same birthday month?”

“Wow,” he looks down at Nora and her bright, excited eyes, “it really is.”

“But we have our own days,” she continues, “I think it was meant to be.” She decides, stopping when Spencer does, right in front of your hospital room.

“I think so too,” he smiles, squeezing her hand gently and opening the door carefully.

“Wow,” Nora gasps, consciously trying not to run up to the hospital bed where you hold a tiny bundle.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you smile, “Do you want to meet your sister?”

She nods with wide eyes, already on her tippy toes to try and peer over the tall bed. Spencer instead sits down in the chair next to you and lifts her into his lap. “Here,” he murmurs as you carefully pass over your newborn.

“Hi,” Nora stares at the small bundle, “Daddy,” she gasps, looking up at Spencer in awe. She touches the baby tentatively as her father's arm wraps around her waist. Nora is already hyper-fixated on her sibling, on her sister.

“What’s baby’s name?” She whispers like she’s scared of disturbing her.

“Amelia,” Spencer says quietly, meeting your eyes with a small, content smile.

“Hi Amelia,” Nora smiles, helping Spencer support the baby's head gently, turning to look at you. “Do you think she already knows how much I love her?”

You nod, “I know she does.” Nora nods with a satisfied smile, like that reassures her and you watch her hold her sister, sharing a silent but knowing look with Spencer; knowing now that your family feels so, so complete.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #dad spencer reid #girl dad spencer supremacy

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razorblade180-heated · 10 months

Text

Blake: What is one the wildest thing you’ve heard during sexual activity?

Weiss: “The entire pill bottle won’t save you from this.”

Everyone:*looks at Jaune*

Jaune:Listen, I was tipsy and we were out all night. I remember saying that though.

Weiss:I never understood how someone could be afraid and so turned on at the same time until that night because he made it sound like a fact.

Ruby:You’ve said scarier.

Weiss:No I haven’t.

Ruby: “Put them on speaker.”

Yang:Who was on the phone?

Weiss:*looks away*

Yang: Don’t you turn from me!

Nora: “Keep playing and I will open this door.”

Ren:Listen-

Jaune:Why do we have two people trying to be this reckless by involving other people.

Weiss:You were trying to make a person!

Jaune:My declaration doesn’t counter medical science!

Blake: “Ruin me like Beacon.”

Nora:Yoooo

Weiss:Get your act together.

Yang:Leave me alone. It was a very long day when I said that.

Jaune:*looks at Ruby*

Ruby:…Now I want you to think very carefully before-

Jaune: “My throat remembers every vein.”

Ruby:*throws pillow* I said think carefully!!!!

Yang:I’m gonna do my best to forget that.

Blake:I think that’s a good one.

Yang:Of course you would. “Keep crying. I might listen.”

Blake:We were- out of context that sounds bad! But I’m not explaining either!

Ren: “Why do you think you own your waist?”

Nora:And I stand by that question! There are specific moments it’s no longer yours.

Yang:Jaune, you should also do a Weiss one.

Weiss:Hey! Then Ruby needs to do a Jaune one and so do I!

Yang:No you really don’t. I promise.

Weiss:Jaune, I’ll pay for your silence.

Jaune:Funny enough, I think you’ve told me that before in bed too.

Weiss:Shut up. That was our first hookup! Doesn’t count.

Jaune: “Hello Mrs. Arc. Yeah he’s right here.”

Weiss:*covers face*

Everyone:Stop answering calls!

Weiss:Stop calling. Text like everyone else.

#rwby #weiss schnee #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #lie ren #renora #bmblb #rwby war of the roses #rwby lancaster #rwby whiteknight #rwby white rose

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pilot-boi · 3 months

Note

How specifically do Ren and Nora react when Jaune finishes his story of being the Rusted Knight?

His brother looks tired.

It’s the only thing Ren can think as he listens to Jaune and team RWBY explain what happened. The words are just washing over him, he’s listening but he’s not hearing. He can’t stop staring at his brother.

It was back in Beacon when they first called each other that, and Ren said it partially out of jest. Partially to get Jaune to leave so he could put a gods damned shirt on.

It wasn’t until he was standing next to a screaming-crying Nora and he could see the petals of his own grief swirling in the air where there once was a portal that he really realized what it meant to have a brother.

His brother looks tired.

He’s tall, and he’s confident, and he’s sure of himself, and he looks like a strong wind might bowl him over. There are white streaks in his hair, and his eyes hold an age that Ren has only seen in Oscar’s too-old eyes.

Jaune’s hands won’t stop shaking. Ren can see it, even though his brother is clearly trying to hide it. He keeps clearing his throat when he speaks, looking faintly surprised every time his own voice exits his mouth.

“-and then we were in Vacuo, and you guys found us,” Jaune finishes. His smile is the same as Ren remembers, blinding and sheepish in equal measure.

Ruby is talking about something, but Ren can’t stop staring at Jaune.

He’s never known Nora to be so quiet.

His brother is staring at him.

“Can I…” Jaune interrupts Ruby. “Can I just have some time with my team?” Ruby doesn’t even blink, just nods. The rest of her team follow her out of the room.

Then it’s just the three of them. In a silence so tense he could cut it with his father’s blade.

Jaune is just standing there. He reaches up to brush something out of his eyes, finds nothing there, and drops his hand back to his side. He doesn’t invite them to sit, he doesn’t even sit himself.

It’s like he’s forgotten how to be a person.

“I…” Jaune’s voice creaks into the silence, he trails of. He clears his throat, frowning. Tries his voice on again, like an old coat that hasn’t been worn in years. “I’m sorry I didn’t…” Shakes his head again. “I really missed you guys.”

Ren nods absently. Nora is stiff at his side, her hand as cold as the Solitas tundra in his grasp.

“Were you safe?” Ren asks.

Jaune shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “Mostly,” he concedes, and that’s probably as good as they’re going to get. Bright smile or not, Jaune seems more fragile now than even his spiral in Mistral.

“Were you happy?” And Nora’s hand tightens in his grasp.

Jaune’s eyes widen, and his hand twitches at his side. Ren wonders why he doesn’t grab his sash.

When his brother hesitates further, a shuttered look crossing his face, Ren blinks into gray scale.

Conflict, grief, confusion, joy, rage, sorrow, pain, pain, pain

“I was the Rusted Knight,” Jaune says, stiff as the armor of his title. “It didn’t matter if I was happy.” If I die buying them time it’s worth it, they’re the ones that matter.

“But were you happy??” Nora asks. Her voice is steady, calm, but her whole arm is shaking in Ren’s grip. Scars from lightning cracking across her shoulders, echoing white streaks in his brother’s hair.

Oh the way a person is marked by thinking they’re only worth what they can do for others.

Was he happier? Did he wish he was still there? Did he not want to come back? He was the hero he always wanted to be, a literal beacon of valor and bravery. He was making a difference.

Ren always preferred the Cat, personally, (and how that stings now) but the Rusted Knight was adored. In the books scrounged from drop-offs, and the storytime sessions in libraries, every kid cheered and wept for the brave and cheerful knight. You couldn’t find a better storybook role model than him.

How cruel that his brother had to crumble to dust for the character to exist.

“I was alone,” Jaune creaks eventually, voice as rusty as his armor, as if that’s enough of an answer.

And from anyone else it wouldn’t be. But from his brother, who lives and dies for the people he cares about, no sentence could be more telling.

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #nora valkyrie #mine #asks #canoncorps #my writing

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whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

Text

At least I got you in my head (prologue)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

A/N: The title is from Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko, because my motto is if I had to suffer Abby has to suffer too. I also have literally no idea where this is going, but the idea got stuck and I needed to write something. 🙃

Jessica here is Jessica from Jessica Jones. (actually all characters here are fictional women I have a crush on, no name is random)

"Listen, I have a friend, she is looking for a roommate right now." Nora said as she drank her sweet coffee you really wanted to steal after she listened to your complaining. "It's super close to the campus."

"I've seen a porn starting exactly like this."

"I wouldn't call Sherlock Holmes porn." Nora shot back and you rolled your eyes. "Do you want her number or not?"

"Is she, you know?.."

"Painfully straight. Don't worry, you won't end up looking for a place because you decided to date your roommate."

"Okay, yeah, give me her number."

Okay, Jessica wasn't.. that bad. It was cute in the beginning, you two hit it off immediately, her sarcasm bounced off your wittiness perfectly. You liked how cool and un-fucking-bothered she was, she liked you because you were a little shit. You two had so much tension it was bound to explode one day, and it did: you got drunk at home, played some have i never and then fucked for two days straight. Jess was cool, and Jess really didn't like to give any kind of clarity on where you stood even when you asked her to her face. She'd just say she liked you and that was it, and even though it really pissed you off, you didn't press further - Jess was cool, but she wasn't sweet enough to fall in love with. It was getting annoying as she grew more territorial about you, always putting her arms around you in public, which was cute until she started asking about Nora and getting angry when you were with her.

That was when you decided to tap out and move out - the red flag was fucking screaming in your face. You quickly informed Jessica about it, to which she just flipped you, and you left, not dealing with her shit. And now you were homeless, and the term was starting and you really didn't want any drama.

So a painfully straight girl would be fucking perfect for a roommate.

to: potential roommate

Hi! I'm (y/n), Nora gave me your number

She said you're looking for a roommate?

from: potential roommate

Hi! I am

Do you smoke?

to: potential roommate

from: potential roommate

That's the address

If you can, come tomorrow after six

to: potential roommate

The place was actually close to the campus and not "beautiful place to have peaceful study sessions. 20 minutes by public transport". You weren't sure if you'd be able to afford it, but it was worth a try anyway, you were tired of sleeping on your friends' couches. The apartment building was on a quiet street, but you knew that this street had a bunch of bars where students spent their time.

It was another win, and it made you want to afford this place even more. You reread the message and got up to apartment 42.

You rang the bell and waited for the girl to open the door.

And then she did.

And then you died.

Tall, muscular, shoulders and arms so defined you felt your mouth going slack. She had freckles on her face, pretty blue eyes with long lashes, stubborn mouth and a long braid.

Oh no fucking way this absolute lesbian wet dream was straight. Nora set you the fuck up here, you were sure of it.

"Hi, I'm Abby. You're (y/n)?" She said in a nice melodic voice that had just an edge of something dark and warm, and you woke up.

"Yeah." You squealed, still so shocked and so attracted to her it was getting painful.

She was painfully straight? Well, you were painfully gay for her right now.

"Cool, come in."

Oh god.

She had the ass. Oh what a good day to be a lesbian, you thought, but you politely looked away, feeling like a creep for staring at her.

It gave you time to look around: the place wasn't too big, but it was cosy and clean, clearly looked after. That was a good sign - Jess was tidy, but she smoked and the whole place just stank of it, her cigarette buds were everywhere. Abby seemed sporty, probably obsessed with her food, but you didn't mind.

"Do you play sports?"

"MMA."

Oh for fuck's sake, you groaned inside. How could she be so stereotypically gay and be straight? Well, of course she could, looks and hobbies weren't indicators of someone's sexuality, but it was pretty fucking ironic to you.

The kitchen was small and tidy, everything in its place and a cute towel hanging from the oven handle. It gave you a 1950s housewife vibe, but it was cute. The living room was more chaotic, pillows and blankets everywhere: on the couch, on the floor, behind the couch (???), big tv and playstation next to the wall with a bunch of games next to them. Likes games, you noted, really feeling like a Sherlock Holmes and laughing at yourself for comparing your basic observation to the fictional genius.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to figure out this mess." Abby said and rubbed her neck and you had to clench your fists to stop feeling so attracted to her.

"It's cosy, not a mess." You chuckled. "My previous roommate left bottles instead of pillows."

"God." Abby scrunched her nose in disgust. "Okay, so there's two bedrooms, one is mine and the other one can be yours and if you promise to pay rent on time and not leave your laundry in the washing machine."

"Yeah, that won't be a problem.” You hesitated before speaking up, but you needed her to know you weren’t straight. “I'm a lesbian, by the way. Just in case you have a problem with it."

"Oh, I don't, it's totally cool." Abby smiled and you smiled back, relieved. Sometimes straight girls got wrong ideas and you wanted to get it out of the way now. You could deal with how attractive Abby was, but could she deal with you finding her attractive - that was a different question.

You talked about the price for the place, which wasn't too high, but you might want to find more students to tutor if you wanted to not worry about splitting your budget too much.

You left Abby’s place feeling relieved - you got a place to live in a good location and a roommate who, yeah, was super attractive, but she was straight, and that meant no relationship drama.

Fuck you, Jess - you thought as you made your way to Cait’s place - I won’t fall for the girl this time.

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #aligyimh

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industrations · 6 months

Note

How are we feeling about aftg new book??🙏🏼✨

Listen. When i saw that i think i walked a few laps in my kitchen out of excitement. When nora dropped that cryptic ass picture with the doctors handwriting i think @popcornhee spend like two hours trying to decipher that thing like his life depended on it

I’m genuinely so excited that she decided to revisit jean’s story, I’ve always been really curious as to what goes on in his head

#aftg #mail box #monkey tag

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humongousgothskeletonfarm · 17 days

Text

tsc thoughts while reading (beware of spoilers) starting with -

david wymack my fucking beloved

also i never rlly liked/cared for thea but her scene with jean and her nickname for him was cute

chapter 3 thoughts:

jeremy being in awe of neil and the foxes is giving me life

fanfics with alvarez in them gonna go crazy now that we actually have a first name for her (and don’t have to invent one)

oh they rich rich (in reference to jeremy’s family butler?!)

jerejean first interaction!!!!

chapter 4:

omg sunshine court mentioned

having the sudden realisation that i can never read fanfics that have jean’s perspective or anything about the how the ravens work, raven!neil/aftermath of the kings men in the same way again

my neighbours are having a party and while i’m loving the music and absolutely jealous i’m not there, it’s really distracting me from reading

ngl i rlly miss neil and andrew and the foxes please let me see my family soon

‘ what you hold onto is less important than the act of holding on itself’ nora sakavic shut the fuck up you philosophical genius i’m gonna cry this is so real to me

renee i love u

WIT WTF JEAN IS NINETEEN I DIDNT KNOW THAT OH MY GOD BABY HE JOINED THE RAVEN LINEUP AT SIXTEEN WTF

i’m drinking red wine while reading and i think that’s appropriate… also i’m listening to that jean moreau playlist someone made and it’s mega depressing https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zlPt63Ap0AjJQ1Ff5OKrd?si=75oEzLE8SO-bfJwewM8Evw&pi=a-ge04jIlVTJGY

this is so funny to only me but i’ve been hyperfixating on one direction again and zayn just dropped new music so everytime i read about jean’s raven roomate zane i think of one direction and confused myself a bit about what fandom i’m reading rn

fuck riko u sick fucking fuck u put jean into a box with a singular hole for air and left him to die u fucking cunt

KEVIN ASKING JEAN TO PROMISE NOT TO KILL HIMSELF AFTER NORA WROTE COUNTLESS DRAFTS IN WHICH JEAN KILLED HIMSELF WHILE ON THE PHONE TO KEVIN AND THE ONLY TIME SHE DIDNT KILL JEAN OFF IS THE VERSION SHE PUBLISHED AND THE REASON WE GET TO HEAR HIS STORY TODAY IM SO BROKEN

jean’s ‘gift’ from the ravens with his broken magnets, blacked out postcards and angry letters is making me cry he deserves so much better

slowly realising that this book is gonna be super triggering lol whoops

a cool evening breeze 🥲

THAT CREEPY LITTLE GOALKEEPER IS MY FAVOURITE GUY OK

‘kevin saw nothingn but the court, but jean had stopped hoping for more than that years ago’ shut the fuckkkk uppppp i cant do this anymore kevin/jean relationship is so deeply important to me (i say this about everything)

chapter 5:

SECOND NEIL/ JEAN INTERACTION OF THE BOOK IM SO FUCKING EXCITED

‘of course it’d be you, you tedious malcontent’ ‘good morning to you too’ is so ‘morning sunshine’ ‘fuck you’ coded (neil and matt bromance confirmed)

the amount of mitski on this jean playlist is making me sick

FUCKING SCREAMING OMFG THIS IS THE JEAN/NEIL CONTENT I YEARN FOR

‘abominable cockroach’ aww jean u say the sweetest things 🥰❤️ neil loves u too babe

literally devouring every last scrap of information jean feeds us about neil - his slow, hungry, hateful smile and the madness in his eyes (neil baby i love u never change)

oh jean don’t diss aaron, do u know how many fanfics have been written about u two

tsc is confirmation that jean moreau will come into ur house and judge u based on the contents of ur fridge (and then throw out ur stash of lollies)

‘to have a real match as a palate cleanser’ jean is really trying to win my favour by borrowing neil’s sassiness huh (no wonder i love them so much together) ((and yes i know he’s BEEN sassy ok))

jean reaching for the tv screen as if he could save neil and describing andrew running for neil as if hell was on his heels is making me absolutely giddy idk whether to scream or cry i’m doing both and i’m giggling

I bet on losing dogs is so jean moreau coded omg

holy fuck nora, the moments after the raven/fox match when riko tries to kill neil is fucking amazingly written. reading from jean’s perspective as he watches the game on tv, the tension, the breathless anxiety and confusion of the scene is palpable i coukd fucking taste it, my chest is tight just reading it

JEAN SAYING ANDREW WILL BE COURT IS IMMACULATE

#tsc #the sunshine court #jean moreau #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andreil #andrew minyard #palmetto state foxes #kevin day #jeremy knox #usc trojans #nora sakavic #tsc spoilers

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reashot · 7 months

Text

Jaune Phone Call with Papa Arc.

Team JNPR Dorm Room.

Jaune: I'm gonna fail this assignment because my dad won't open up.

Ren: Me and Nora going to fail because our parents were killed because of a Grimm attack.

Pyrrha: Wow I didn't knew that Ren. I'm sorry to hear that. And are you doing Nora's homework?

Nora: Fo'sho. What? You expect me to do my own homework? Please think even less of me.

Ren: Look Jaune, back on topic. A lot of people feel more comfortable talking about personal things when it's not face-to-face.

Nora: Maybe you should try calling your dad.

Jaune: I guess it's worth a shot...

*ring* 🎶

Mistralian Restaurant.

Papa Arc: Hello?

Jaune: H-hey dad. What'chu up to?

Papa Arc: Eating lunch. I just needed a break from work you know. Lately I've been thinking about all the people I've had to kill...

God. The first, five, ten times you take a life it's eerie you remember every detail. I can see all their faces. One had a beard. Each time I pulled the trigger I tied a little knot in my memory no amount of whiskey could loosen...

Nora: *Scoots away from the phone call*

Papa Arc: Of course eventually I stopped caring. Now I can put a bullet through a man's head while figuring out how much VFC to pick up on my way home. It's usually no more than a bucket.

Pyrrha: 😱

Papa Arc: The sick part is I've come to love it. Snuffing out lives. I crave it. I feel like an angel of death, the messenger of eternal darkness, a merciless demon with an unquenchable... Oh! They just put more orange chicken on the Buffett gotta run. *phone ended.

Nora: *Hiding under the bed*

JPR: *Stunned in place*

Back in the Dorm Room

Jaune: I can't turn this in. It's all about my dad killing people.

*someone enters into the room*

Yang: What is this about killing people?

Pyrrha: Hey Yang, it's nothing we're trying to finish our assignment.

Weiss: I already finished mine ages ago. What took you guys so long?

Ren: We're trying to get Jaune's dad to talk about what happened during his time, but so far he's being "uncooperative"...

Blake: How is he being "uncooperative?"

Nora: *shivering* You don't want to know....

Ruby: Oh, maybe I can help you with your dad? 🙂

Jaune: *rub Ruby's head* It's okay Ruby. It's my assignment after all. You don't have to do anything to help me.

Ruby: *purr* 😸 (Oh yeah, that's the stuff... Run my head like you own me. 😚)

Ren: Call your dad again and get him to talk about something else.

*ring* 🎶

Papa Arc: Hello?

Jaune: Hey dad.

Papa Arc: Son, glad you called. I was kind of bumming thinking about your mom.

Jaune: W-what, why?

Yang: (Isn't she the hot one?)

Papa Arc: *sigh* I feel like our lovemaking has lost all its intimacy. We're not attuned to each other's love energy, we're just slamming away...

Jaune: Dad! I'm here with the girls on speakerphone.

Blake: (Don't interrupt him! 😾)

Papa Arc: Hey girls! So, Lovemaking sure can turn into sex without you even noticing it. And why not sex with your mom feels great!

*Team RWBY starts circling in to listen closely.*

Papa Arc: It's easy to think, maybe there is love and then there's the performer in me always trying to get your mom turned on.

Weiss: (Scandalous...)

Papa Arc: I pull her hair, choke her lightly or not so lightly.

Ruby: (I wish Jaune will do that to me one day.🥵)

Jaune: Dad! When you were my age. What was the cost of a loaf of bread.

Papa Arc: The focus becomes how hot she gets. How many times I can make her shudder with pleasure.

RWBY: *giggling*

Jaune: Allright this is enough... *gets tackled to the ground*

Ruby: Don't, disturb your dad! 😠 *gag Jaune's mouth*

Jaune: *muffled scream*

Yang: Dad. What do mom boobs look like?

Papa Arc: I'll tell you Yang they're perfect. Creamy, twins with faint blue veins running over them like cooling streams I can wash my face in it...

Yang: Oh that's hot.... *starts rubbing herself.*

Blake: Hmmph! You never get this hot when you're with me...

Yang: Really? Maybe I should change that then... *long sensual kiss*

So how do you like it my kitty cat?

Blake: ... It's a start. *return kiss*

Ren: Shouldn't we stop this?

Nora: What! No I say we join in and turned it into an orgy.

Ren: Wait, what? *gets mounted by Nora*

Papa Arc: Of course it still wasn't enough for the both of us...

Ruby: So Jaune... Now that everyone are enjoying themselves. Maybe you want to do it with me too? 😊

Jaune: Ruby I...

Pyrrha: You can't! b-because Jaune is mine... *kiss Jaune*

Ruby: *gasp* (How could Pyrrha NTR Jaune away from me? He's mine I saw him first!😫)

Papa Arc: ... And even then we still weren't satisfied. It got so bad your mom decided to bring another woman into our bed to spice things up, as she puts it. Oh, the looks on your mother's face as I plow the other woman in front of her. Turns out your mom likes to look.

Ruby: (Could that be the solution. Me, Jaune and Pyrrha? I mean I do find the both of them to be extremely hot... Ah, who am I kidding. YOLO.) Pyrrha. Can you let me join with you and Jaune? 😇

Pyrrha: Well since you ask nicely...

Jaune: Wait, what do you mean by that? Pyrrha, Ruby why are the two of you looking at me like that??! No, no, no, stay away!!!

Weiss:

(No one wants to be with me 😢)

Papa Arc: And that's why Jaune you probably have another half-sibling running around right now... Oh, you having an Orgy in there? Don't let me stop you, son. But do remember to use protection. Unless you want to have an unexpected surprise like me. But seriously use a condom or I will castrate you... Oops. Gotta go Jaune. My egg fooyong is finally here.

Beacon Academy.

Cardin: ... That's why my Dad walked out of his Dad's funeral & I will walk out of my dad's funeral!

Peter: Great presentation Cardin. Now Jaune you're up. Show me your report on your father.

Jaune: I-I'm sorry, Professor Port but my dad wasn't really willing to answer the questions.

Peter: Nonsense young man. I give you an entire week. What were you even doing all those time?

Ruby: More like what haven't we been doing? 🤭

Pyrrha: *giggle* Stop it Ruby, you going to get us into trouble.

Ruby: I can't help it Pyr. So. Same thing tonight? 😉

Pyrrha: Most definitely, we're not going to let Jaune get any sleep tonight. If you know what I mean.

Peter: Why if I don't know any better, I think you are trying to get out of this assignment?

Jaune: Okay. Is that what you think? Okay professor Port here we go.

*Walks up to the front of the class*

Jaune: *click* Hey dad, I'm calling in front of my history class. So who was the councilman when you were a kid?

Papa Arc: Oh, I don't know but I guess I think about killing myself pretty frequently. And why not. What so great about living? You know when I'm happy? For about five seconds when I first wake up. Before I remember who I am and what my life is about. Anxiety, disappointment, diarrhea more often than not. I don't know if there's an afterlife. But who cares. Nothingness couldn't be worse than my meaningless March through my empty days.

Jaune: You see professor Port... Professor Port?

Peter: He's right, it's pointless, Salem will kill us all... Life Dismissed. *jumps through the window*

Nora: I guess class is over?

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piratefalls · 2 months

Text

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.” OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married.

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfiction #alexhenry #firstprince fanfiction

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ebongawk · 4 months

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Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know! What about Eddie and Chrissy's first date?

His palms were sweaty.

Why the fuck were his palms sweaty?

He absently wiped them on his jeans, further crinkling the protective layer of plastic that was wrapped around the sparse bouquet he'd picked up from Bradley's when he stopped in for a pack of cigarettes. Cursing, Eddie set the damn thing in the passenger seat, scrubbing his hands against his pants and willing them to stop fucking leaking. Stop condensing or what the fuck ever.

It's one date, he told himself over and over. She agreed to one date. And sure, okay, maybe he didn't have, like, a plethora of experience regarding dates – he was more of a one-night-stand sorta guy. A meet-at-the-bar-and-have-a-quickie-in-the-back-of-his-van type of dude. Not really the type that girls took home to meet the folks. And that was fine. He wasn't really interested in the distraction of a girlfriend, and basically every girl he'd met didn't really catch his attention for longer than those quick, heated glances that extinguished when they, y'know, both got what they'd wanted.

But this wasn't every girl.

This was Chrissy.

And Chrissy had already held his attention for, like, significantly longer than the average Eddie Munson Experience. In that, instead of one night, he'd been thinking about her for the last two months.

(Or, y'know, the last six years, but he'd never admit that to anyone, living or dead. He could barley admit it to himself. And, shit, if that was the reason he didn't acknowledge girls outside of those single nights? What the fuck was wrong with his brain?)

So. Fuck. That was probably why his palms were sweaty. Nervous. Eddie didn't get nervous, though. He waltzed through life with the same seat-of-his-pants confidence that got his dad into all that trouble, but kept his focus on shit like music and his morally okay but ethically wrong pharmaceutical sales instead of, like, jacking cars. And, okay, maybe it'd gotten him into one or two silly situations, but he waltzed right out of them with that same confidence.

Nervous. Him? No way.

(Way.)

He'd been sitting outside her house for, like, five entire minutes so far. Trying to talk himself into going up and actually knocking on her door. Introducing himself to whoever answered – Chrissy had warned him about her mother's judgmental attitude, which was one hundred percent something Eddie could face. He'd watched enough Teen Beat movies to know the whole spiel – "Yes ma'am, I'm Eddie Munson, pleasure to meet you, I'm here to pick up Chrissy for our date, no ma'am, we're just going to the drive in and out for a bite, home by eleven, of course – but he couldn't shake hands with her parents when his palms were so goddamn sweaty.

A deep breath. Another. And Eddie grabbed the handle of his driver's side door and wrenched it open, stumbling from the safety of his van and barely remembering to grab the bouquet sitting sadly in his passenger seat.

He didn't remember the walk from street to front door. Just that, all at once, he was there, staring at this ornate wooden door in fucking Loch Nora with one of those fancy brass knockers. Opting instead for the doorbell, Eddie took a full step back, listening to the distant bustle of activity within the house.

It flew open all at once, and––

Holy shit.

Chrissy Cunningham.

Oh, she was so fucking beautiful. Her hair was down, hanging around her shoulders in subtle curls that framed her face. She'd done something different with her makeup, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. A different color, maybe, but it was hard to focus on when she gave him such a bright, excited smile. His favorite one – the one that made her eyes crinkle until all he could see was the subtle ocean storms glistening in the light that seemed to emanate from her.

God, he was in deep if he already had a favorite smile.

"Eddie!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes as she opened the door completely and let him step inside. "I'm just getting my shoes on, and then–– Oh!" Her hands clasped in front of her chest, she looked down at what he was holding with a soft gasp of surprise. "Are... Are those for me?"

Eddie followed her line of sight, startling at the crinkly paper still in his hands that he'd completely forgotten about.

"Oh, shit, uh, yeah!" he said, awkwardly holding the bouquet toward her. "Uh... Sorry. They're–– I mean, slim pickings at the Big Buy."

The smile that blossomed on her face was a soft, gentle thing. A gradual unfurling of lips and teeth that rivaled the petals she now held in her hands.

New contender for favorite smile.

"They're beautiful," she said, honesty bleeding in speckled sunlight through her tone. "Peonies are my favorite."

With loving, gentle hands, she brought the bouquet up to her nose and inhaled deeply, that same smile affixed to her face as her eyes fell closed.

He felt his knees go weak and had to lean against the doorframe so he didn't fall at her feet and beg to worship her.

"Give me just a second," she said, meeting his gaze. "I'll put these in water, and then we can go."

She took a step back, then hesitated. Instead closing the distance between them, her little hand resting on his arm as she popped up onto her toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered before disappearing back into the house.

Oh, Christ. Oh, God. Nothing but television static between his ears during her brief absence. Trembling fingertips gently brushing against the warm dot on his cheek before he realized that his stupid palms were still stupid sweaty.

He held them against his pants until she came back, carrying the flowers in a vase that was way too nice for their sad state. It was set carefully on the foyer table before she slipped into her shoes.

"So I don't forget to take them up to my room when I get home," she told him by way of explanation. "Are we ready?"

Subtly brushing his hands against his pants again, he held one out to her.

"Yeah. Let's go."

And, holy shit, maybe it was all gonna work out. Maybe this wasn't just a crazy one-off situation, and maybe she was just as excited for this one date to evolve into an endless stream of dates as he was.

Because, when she took his hand, he realized that her palms were sweaty, too.

(ask meme)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #stranger things #hellcheer drabble #chrissy cunningham #ebongawk ask #svvy2003 #thank you for understanding and asking again!#first date #hellcheer first date

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