#s4 comes. Very Very close

[raayllum]

2x01: Viren takes something that does not belong to him (the king’s seal) as he is ‘just a servant’ and not a king. Callum is unable to take something that does not belong to him (ability to do magic) on account of being ‘only human.’ Viren needs access to the status of king to have greater power; Callum needs a primal stone in order to do magic.

2x02: Viren tries to unearth the secrets of the mirror, resulting in a breakdown cloaked in darkness. Callum tries to mediate between his friends, who are all keeping secrets, resulting in a breakdown as he steps out of the darkness of the half moon and into the light. He has finally learned the truth about Harrow, and Viren has his first bit of contact with Aaravos.

2x03: Callum deals with the fallout of Harrow’s death, as well as ultimately trusting Rayla over Soren and Claudia, who betray him. Viren makes his first real bit of contact with Aaravos.

2x04: This is perhaps one of the three most overt episodes to parallel them. Callum goes out into the storm in hopes of connecting to the Sky arcanum, but has too much self preservation (thankfully) to electrocute himself. Likewise, although Viren begins communicating with Aaravos, he has too many reservations to do the blood oath spell by cutting his hand. Both mages reject the mores self destructive pursuit of power - for Viren, he still hopes political machinations can work, and for Callum, primal magic in another way.

2x05 - 2x06: Depending on where the story goes, these episodes could retroactively have a lot of parallels (the heart of the magma titan was a good thing and a bad thing, resulting in the loss of loved ones; the key of Aaravos, also revealed in tandem, could have a similar good-bad dichotomy with it). However, these episodes do thematically set up Viren and Callum as opposites, for a Narrative of Strength and a Narrative of Love respectively.

2x07: Faced with a lack of options and desperation to save what they want to protect, Viren makes the blood pact with Aaravos by cutting his hand, and Callum does dark magic in order to save Rayla, thus completing their initial refusal of darkness/danger in 2x04 in the same episode by going through with it anyway. 

2x08: Viren converses with the mysterious elf in the mirror, while Callum faces a mirror image of himself. Viren falls in deeper in spite of Aaravos’ lack of answers, while Callum rejects dark magic but can’t shake the threat of drowning. 

2x09: Callum is brought to his knees due to love and sickness, while Viren kneels before death and Aaravos’ machinations. Both are given very different perspectives of love (“I love you with all of myself, and I always will” / “Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear” / “Search your heart” + “You must know it with your head, hand, and heart”) as well postulations of meaning ( “I can’t lose you like this, you mean too much to me” / “This mirror meant something to [Avizandum]. You meant something to him” “Perhaps”). Their arc long search for greater magical purpose is concluded with Callum finding magic within himself, and ultimately freedom, while Viren’s external manifestation of it (Aaraworm) goes into his body, and he is forced into chains. 

BONUS PARALLELS:

2x07 / 2x08:

2x08:

2x09:

#the dragon prince #tdp viren #tdp callum #it was just red #tdp #s2 #i'll be your slaughterhouse #parallels #arc 1 #mine #mini meta #screencap heavy #viren #analysis series #analysis #that's all folks #tag ramble #while no season is able to parallel them quite as closely as S2 did structurally #s4 comes. Very Very close #and obviously 3x09 is on Fire as the culmination of their arcs (callum flying vs viren falling mmm delicious) #the english major strikes again #bc that's my tag for structural things instead of just being a Joke now

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

#eve text #elmike #stranger things #byler #only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol #tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS #god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear #i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable #i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts #elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about #even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike #i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up #the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me #and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing... #the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me #and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin #also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice… #fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK #so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows #i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too??? #love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk #tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO... #like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO #stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest #anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul #i need frivolity #ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show

[cloneslugs]

i think brock just being "brock" and not "uncle brock" is very sweet. uncles are like team venture & sgt hatred which just feels like honorary family more than anything, the twins barely know the original TV and Hatred kind of only gets it at his own insistence and only really from Dean & i think it's kind of a default title to people who feel some sense of familial obligation but in a more official sense than anything, closer people to the family like Orpheus (+ triad) & White & Billy don't get it (but they also get a more formal "Mr/Dr" title, which i think is a middle ground for respect between Uncle or nothing" but Brock has no title but he's also the one person who is officially Venture family to all the Ventures & just the closest person to the Ventures bc he is inarguably family . he's raised the boys for 20 years/til they were 16 + together w their dad since they were babies & i think it makes sense Rusty wouldn't push for them to call him uncle brock & i dont think the boys would think it would fit either & i dont think brock would really take to it but ultimately wouldnt care if they wanted to, but he is the second dad in every way & he's not a part of the family the same way every uncle whoever is "part of the family" but they cant call him dad or anything bc they call their dad every available word for dad & i think rusty would get annoyed with alternating/differentiating but theres no other real word for what his place in the family is so he's just brock

#text tag #do think the boys would refer to him as their (dad's) bodyguard but also well hes more than that they do family plans all together after #all. but sometimes just B doesnt cut it so i think there would be instances of like. yeah hes our other [dad] of sorts #just bc i think the lame s4 'he was my best friend' is so lame i understand he's the bestie and family but like. idk feels so cheap of a #descrip. bc all of s3 finale was family family family . and even if they dont have an exact word for it i dont think best friend cuts it #not cheapening the relation of a best friend vs family as some sort of comparative competition thing. its just that while H + B had a very #close and special relationship & H admired him especially . everything before s4 . my takeaway would not ever be that H sees B as his best #friend. if anything it would be D . just does not feel like what H would go for . not even like he doesnt know what other word to use so #that was the best one he could come up w .like it just feels illfitting from everything shown before #even understanding that H seeks out B to hang out and etc when he can idk idk i know its something special to H & im not even really against #it it was just the placement of it in S4 and how it came across was like. mediocre

[slippingbetweenthestars]

something something Ten was unwilling to regenerate when surrounded by people he loved (the classic Good Death) but willingly accepted death against every emotional instinct when practically alone after re-experiencing the destruction of his people and his oldest friend (pretty much a horrible Lonely Bad Death by all measures)

#tenth doctor #ten #cw: discussion of self harm in tags #and i wonder why i'm obsessed with that moment #i think it was capaldi who said dw is about death #and i think that's very sexy of him #(said in an a-spec way) #the doctor's a little messed up is what i'm saying #anyways i go back and forth because it can represent a moral triumph and commitment to principle #that's the opposite of indulgent #(compared to my favorite moment in s1 which is practically the inverse) #but it can also read as a form of self harm motivated by pain/trauma/loneliness/self-loathing #it's not clear quite how much is *i'm dangerous to the world like this and i'm committed to not harming it* #and how much is *i hate myself and don't deserve to keep going like this* #which is (in a way) very indulgent; just because it feels right to hurt yourself doesn't mean it's actually objective/non-self indulgent #someday. someday i will nail down that meta about morality and self-indulgence vs healing/acceptance #that is the doctor's narrative arc from s1-s4 #also i love wilf and the doctor is unusually open around him but i think that willingness comes from their distance #as much as it does any closeness; wilf is both very dear to us and yet also kind of an everyman

[flaresanimedump]

There is a startling amount of overlap between Fukuran shippers and Odazai shippers that's too persistent to be a coincidence and I feel like it somehow exposes our psychology too much but I'm too busy shipping Fukuran and Odazai to care

#fukuran #odazai #I'm betting when s4 comes out I'm gonna see a lot of Oguri and his writer in those pixiv logs too #it's the concept of a seemingly unattainable object of affection #Oda: dead and also had active unattainable symbolism #Fukuzawa: president and older #Author guy: dead #also a very devoted and scary person who is in love with that unattainable object of affection #what does this mean for us? #don't look that close #ranfuku

[milf-harrington]

i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from. 

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner. 

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed. 

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like. 

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently. 

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament. 

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

#stobin #platonic soulmates #also a bit of #steddie #as a treat (for me) #monster steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #this has been plaguing me all day #fic ideas

[variousqueerthings]

rtd first era is like

s1: awkward closed-off secretly (not so secretly) silly alien learns to feel things again because of a woman who feels so much and isn't afraid to challenge the silly alien on the importance of these feelings

s2: formerly awkward closed-off secretly (not so secretly) silly alien feels so hard that there's no defense left against an inevitable loss that both alien and woman pretended wasn't going to happen

s3: silly alien now bleeding uncontrollably everywhere, but a doctor comes along and does triage on the wounds. experience deeply traumatises this doctor and her whole family and she has to leave

s4: silly alien now in some tricky equilibrium, tries to balance bleeding heart with living, made easier because of a very special woman who understands on some intimate level the struggle of this balance. things looking up on the whole. but watch out

specials: oh no oh no oh no oh dear

#doctor who #dw #rose tyler #martha jones #donna noble #the ninth doctor #the tenth doctor #rtd #russell t davies #does the 60th anniversary count as rtd first era or rt2d is the question #i go for the first -- ncuti gatwa is officially rt2d #which means... there will be something to add soon on that list

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

#supernatural #misha collins #castiel #cas x you #cas x y/n #castiel x reader #castiel novak x reader #castiel spn #castiel supernatural #castiel fluff #castiel novak #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfic #supernatural smut

[luveline]

𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary eddie drags you out to lovers lake for some fun [2.7k]

warnings smut, 18+ please no minors, fem!reader, praise kink, heavy petting, finger-fucking, giggly sex, soft but very teasing eddie, an extreme amount of hickeys, public but also no one is there so, aftercare, no s4 spoilers, eddie maybe has dacryphillia my bad

𓆩���︎𓆪

"Listen to me," Eddie whispers. "Nobody is gonna come up here." 

"You don't know that," you argue back mildly, your neck kiss bitten and your chest full of melty hot pleasure. 

What he does know is that you're going to let him do whatever it is he wants to do to you, even if it's by the side of Lovers Lake in the velvet dark. He always knows what you're thinking. What you're feeling.  

"Would you rather get back in the van?" he asks. 

He's genuine and that's what makes you giggle, stroking the hair from his face where he's lying across your chest.

"I don't wanna fuck in the van again," you murmur. It gets stuffy from the heat. The lakeside breeze is nicer if you ignore the occasional bug.

He rubs his nose into your naked collar. "Who said anything about all that?" 

"So you don't want to?" 

"Your assumptions are embarrassing us both tonight."

You smile at him. He doesn't smile back until his mouth is at your throat. You can feel it, the shape of his lips pulled up like he just can't hide it.

"You're sure nobody will come up here?" you ask. 

"No," he says, vibrations tickling you.

You huff in bemusement as he kisses across your throat, his hand braced behind your ear. He turns your head towards his searching and leaves little half crescents of affection in a curved line to your jaw.

You're breathless by the time he's finished. 

"You're wearing this pretty skirt…" He starts suggestively, other hand at the tight waistband, his nail skipping over the hem. “I was thinking you could leave it on. That way, anybody takes a little soirée to our side of the lake, I’ll stop and nobody will know what we’ve been upto.”

“What are we upto?” you ask. 

He cups your neck and hovers above you, puppy eyes wide and bright even in the dark of the summer night. 

“Well, if you’re so inclined-“

“Quit with the formalities, Munson.”

Eddie squeezes your throat very lightly, eyes glowing with mirth. 

“Fine,” he says, in the rough way that almost makes you regret asking. “I’m gonna fuck you out with my fingers, and you’re gonna say my name when you cum.” He speaks each word slowly, quietly. His lips are barely parted when he adds, “Okay?”

"How can you say stuff like that?" you ask, flushing with heat. 

"You bring it out of me." 

He brushes his thumb over your throat. You dip your chin to your chest and smile, a tendril of excitement bursting through the sloven, slow pleasure of his closeness and his hickeys. 

"Okay," you say, voice low. 

"Okay," he repeats with a smile, catching your small smile with his lips. 

He readjust as he kisses, taking his weight off of your chest in favour of stroking his hand down your front. You sigh into his open-mouth, chest heaving under his hands, his fingers as they push over your boobs. 

He's gentle, his lips less so. 

You grow dizzy with it all, his massaging and his firm kisses, your heart racing as his hand travels down, down, down… 

He pushes his hand under your vest and spreads his fingers over your midriff, the heat of his palm seeping into your skin. 

"You're so soft," he says, pulling away a half inch, his exhales fanning over your chin.

He grasps the curve of your tummy, hands moving to the side. He follows over your hip, rubs a soothing path up your sides to your ribs. 

"N'so pretty," he says, ducking down to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Fucking so pretty." 

You rake your hands through his hair and pull it away from his face, forcing him to look at you as you look at him, his eyes, with ill contained reverence. In the dark his pupils fade into his irises, a swell of black-brown, pretty lashes, pretty eyebrows. 

Says you, you want to protest, but the words get caught in your throat as he needles into the side of your neck, lips catching at your skin, sucking at a half-formed love bite with renewed interest. 

The hand at your ribs slides down slowly but surely, back to your hips and abdomen. 

"Gonna get my pretty thing feeling good," he promises into your skin. 

His words are smothered and yet each strikes you, sending waves of heat to your core. His kissing before likely would've been enough but this second round, knowing what he's going to do to you, is a sweet torture. You squeeze your thighs together for a relief you can't find, the whisper of a whine building in your throat as Eddie's fingertips run over the waistband of your skirt. 

He kisses your neck until it burns, letting your skin pop free lewdly. 

"What do you think?" he asks. 

"'Bout what?" You're breathless.

"Do you think I should make my pretty girl feel good?" 

You love and hate his teasing, a flush of heat rising to your cheeks as you say, "Yeah, Eds. I think you should." 

"You do?" 

His hands move to your legs. You shiver at his touch, hot hands on your cold skin. He doesn't do anything but stroke them, a rough pressure, thumbs pressing into the dough of your inner thighs. He draws near your cunt and then away, never quite touching. 

"Please, Eddie," you plead. 

He pulls your legs apart, sitting up so he can drop kisses into your kneecap. "Tell me what you want." 

"Eddie."

"You want help?" he asks knowingly. 

You nod, almost feverish. 

He kisses your knee again, his cheek pressed to your skin, looking demure. It's in complete juxtaposition with his evil teasing, in your opinion. 

"Tell me how pretty you are. Tell me you're so pretty, you deserve to get fucked out." 

You inhale hard. "I'm so pretty I… I deserve to-" you stop, feel the immense weight of his hand, his fingertips where they run along the elastic of your panties. "I deserve to get fucked out," you whisper.

His beaming smile is worth it. He manhandled your thighs enough that you think you might get little fingerprint bruises. You don't think you'd mind as long as they're his. 

"Yes you do," he agrees, rubbing the tip of his nose against your kneecap before changing course. "Come here, sweetheart." 

Eddie manoeuvres your back to his chest and you're sitting in the spread of his legs. You can feel his dick hard against your back and feel that lovesickness for him amp up. 

He takes the back of your thigh into his hand and pulls your leg up, splaying you open. 

"Hold your skirt for me?" he murmurs. 

"This is a compromising position," you say, and do as he asks. 

Eddie pushes his hand over the top of your cunt then  down, rubbing into the bump of your clit. "Be brave, babe," he says, softness replaced by a mild exasperation. "I'll make it worth your while." 

"If someone comes up that hill and sees you with your fingers in-"

You're cut off by his hand hooking under your underwear and pulling, running the fabric over his fingers. He laughs under his breath. 

"You-" He laughs again, then mimics your gasp. Your heart is in your throat as he mocks you. "All these pretty sounds and I've barely touched you." 

"That's not true." 

His cock twitches against your back. "No?" 

"No," you whimper pathetically, watching as he pulls your panties to one side. "You, you were kissing my neck, and-" 

He really laughs then. "It's so easy." His voice melts you. Smug, beggy. You can almost hear his eyes rolling back, can picture the look on his face. 

His fingers pet your cunt, careful, his lips coming to rest on your neck. "So easy to get you, huh?" More smug than beggy, you decide. The tone of someone who's about to ruin you. 

You turn your face to his, leaning back to take him in. He's smirking, but there's a familiar sweetness about him as he circles your entrance. 

"What?" he asks softly. You catch a sneak of his tongue as he licks his lip. 

You have a smirk all your own when you kiss the underside of his jaw. "Nothing," you croon. 

"Nothing?" he asks. "Now why don't I believe you?" 

"I'm untrustworthy," you say agreeably, pulling his skin between your teeth gently, a tiny love bite. 

Eddie runs a big hand down your arm and pulls the other from your cunt. 

"Kiss?" he asks. 

When you try to kiss his lips he evades. "Fingers, baby." 

You pout but kiss his fingers chastely. 

"We both know that's not the kind of kiss I meant." 

He drags your bottom lip down. You open obligingly, though shyness for something that feels this erotic keeps you from opening wide and his fingers scrape between your teeth. He draws a circle into your tongue, his knuckles pushing into your soft palate. 

"Suck for me?" Eddie asks. 

And oh, you're gonna kill him when it's his turn. You suck on his fingers and he slides them in and out of your lips, just once, enough to make you close your eyes 

"Thank you," he says quietly.

You shudder. 

"Thank you," he repeats into your neck, cheery, nearing sarcastic, taking his spit wet fingers back to your entrance. He rubs a slow circle and pushes in, at first one finger and then two. 

You seize up on instinct but quickly relax, eased by his lazy kisses over your hickied throat, his hand reassuring on your arm. 

"Tight," he says. "You okay?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Just…" He curls his fingers, thumb rubbing circles into the bead of your clit. "Relax for me, sweetheart." 

For me. For me. For me. 

You let yourself go limp under his touching, weight holding heavy in his arms. He doesn't say a word that isn't encouraging, whispering little praises into your neck as he works you open. 

He rubs against your sweet spot and you keen, leg kicking up. He grabs your thigh in a cruel grip and spreads you open again, shushing you. "Right there?" 

You nod, unable to speak as he buries his fingers inside you and scissors them wide, rubbing emphatically into your walls, searching for the spot again. Your thigh twitches under his hand. 

Eddie works faster now he's found it, his index and pinky finger slapping into the soft skin of your cunt with every thrust, your body flinching into his. He rocks with you, teeth scratching at your neck. 

"You like that?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you say, something about his force making you teary eyed. 

He pulls his fingers from your cunt and holds them above you, spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them. "A little too much, maybe," he says. He rubs them down your slit, collecting the little puddle of wetness dripping down and pushing it back inside you. "Don't ruin the blanket, sweetheart. We wanna be able to use it again, don't we?" 

Slow, fast, searching and shallow, deeper when you beg for it, tormenting your clit until it's swollen under his touch, every right move. Eddie's an expert in making you feel good, attentive to your changing needs, observational. Constantly asking what you want, how he can make it better for you. 

He pinches your clit between wet fingers. 

You turn your face into his chest to mumble fucked out nonsense and he wraps a hand around your head, petting gently. 

"You're okay. You're okay," he says, pulling his fingers out carefully. 

"Don't stop," you say. "Please, Eds, I wanna…" 

He rubs your clit, tight circles that build quickly. "You wanna cum?" he asks. 

You nod into his chest, missing his fingers inside you desperately. 

"Remember what I said?" he asks. 

You nod again. He groans, kisses the crown of your head and then sits up, arms under your arms and pulling you tight to his front. 

He hooks his hands under your legs and spreads them wide before smoothing one of them over your naked thigh, adjusting your soaked underwear. You hold onto his forearms, squeezing dark tattoos and pale skin. 

"Gonna take three?" he asks. He sounds very confident. He sounds proud, you think, skin aflame with heat and clammy with sweat, kissed by the lake's cool breeze. He sounds very, very smitten. "Yeah? Fuck, sweetheart, y'always so good for me."

You're biting back awful, mewling sounds as Eddie works in his three fingers, stretching you out as his other hand pushes wet figure eights into your clit. He moves rhythmically, hands in tandem as he fucks into your g-spot and bullies your clit. 

You pant for air, feeling your orgasm growing until it's white hot, thighs pushing closed around his hands. He ignores this and pulls you through it, his breathing loud in your ear as you gasp. 

"Eddie," you say weakly, chest heaving as you cum. "Eddie." 

"There you go," he mutters. "Alright, you got it." 

"Please," you say, eyes wet, not sure what you're begging for as it fades. 

Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and hugs you tight as he pushes two fingers into your still-contracting cunt. "You sound fucking insane when you cum," he says conversationally, his hand rubbing your side a comfort as you come down.

"How do I look?" you ask. 

"Worse. You get this crease between your eyebrows like you're gonna burst into tears." He's murmuring. You're distracted by his fingers still in your cunt and almost miss it when he says, "You sound like you're gonna burst into tears. Fuck."

You grab his wrist and pull his greedy fingers from your cunt. He wraps that arm around you too, burying his face into the back of your shoulder. 

You take in a sharp inhale and giggle. "Shit." 

"What's funny?" 

You let your head hang forward, exhausted. "Nothing. Here, let me-" You pull his arms off of you to turn and tuck him into a hug, skirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of his ruining like he'd promised it would. 

You push onto your knees so he can cross his legs. There's a kerfuffle as you climb into his lap, and then you're content. You breathe him in, tired and giddy and lovesick

Eddie laughs as he accepts your embrace. 

"I'm getting mess all over you," he says apologetically. 

"That's okay." 

He rubs your back roughly. Settling, you can hear the sounds of the lake again, the cicadas, the water lapping the shore, the shush of long reeds in the wind. You feel warm but won't consider moving, arms over Eddie's shoulders, the side of your face to his. His cheek is warm. You suspect yours is warmer. 

You brush your fingers through the ends of his ragged curls, eyes open and hungry for his details. The back of his neck, the ridge of his shoulder under his t-shirt. You covet the nape of his neck, brushing your thumb over the top of his spine as he begins to hum. 

"What are you singing?" you whisper. 

"You wouldn't know it."

"I might." 

He hums a few more bars. 

"What kind of song is it?" you ask. "Metal?" 

He pauses before he answers, hand moving to your neck to pull you away. 

"It's a love song." 

"That's awful," you say, awful as in lovely, as in sickeningly adorable, as in you need to kiss him silly. 

You try but Eddie's focused on your neck, knuckles knocking over the column of your throat. The concern on his face makes you groan. 

"How bad is it?" you ask. 

Eddie pushes his fingernail into tender skin, a charming uptilt to his lips. "Bruise of the year, babe." 

"You're in for it, Munson."

"I'd fucking hope so." He bares his neck eagerly. You suspect his theatrical excitement is ninety percent genuine. "Do your worst."  

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading ♡

proofread but im tired so please forgive any awful mistakes, ill fix them eventually!

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[hitlikehammers]

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #falling in love #angst with a happy ending #(also oddly fluffy?) #presumed dead #(but obviously NOT) #happy ending #the black void place with the water on the floor is LIMBO #and they maybe kinda fall for each other in the space between life and death because OF COURSE THEY DO #and these boys are maybe kinda stuck there #steddielovemonth #love is a fire that never goes out #stranger things

[lavenderstobins]

Wayne Munson Headcanons

Wayne was born and raised in Tennessee but moved to Hawkins when he was older. He briefly moved away but moved back after Eddie came out to him, wanting a fresh start

He was raised as an Evangelical Christian

He's the oldest of three, having a younger brother and a younger sister. His sister died young and Wayne never got over that grief

He had an abusive father, which contributed to his brother acting out as a teenager

He fought in Vietnam and subsequently hates guns as a result

His first job was in a pastry shop, but his father made him quit and get a job as a mechanic

He was very close to Eddie's mother (his sister-in-law) but kept his distance for his brother's sake

When his brother goes to jail for what seems like good, he tries to help out Eddie and his mom as best as he can

When Eddie's mom dies, Wayne feels like he didn't do enough

Wayne took Eddie in without hesitation. He'd been in a longterm relationship at the time and having Eddie with them broke it down, but Wayne wouldn't sacrifice Eddie for anyone

Wayne is the one who introduces Eddie to Garfield

Wayne had a brief relationship with Benny Hammond. He was in love with him, but felt he couldn't risk letting them be in love. He's heartbroken when he hears Benny committed suicide

When Eddie comes out to him as a boy, he does so by mentioning the D&D spell "modify memory" in his explanation. Wayne stays up for hours squinting at the handbook long after Eddie's fallen asleep, wanting to be supportive

Wayne was the one to buzz Eddie's hair, after he came out

Wayne loves fishing. He used to have a fishing group that consisted of him, Benny, Dale, Henry and Earl. Over the years, it becomes just him

Wayne braves a gay nightclub one night when Eddie's at a friend's. He goes a few more times and ends up having a one night stand with Scott Clarke, much to their mutual surprise when they bump into each other at the school

Wayne thinks he's cursed. He thinks the Munson name is cursed

When the mall 'burns down', he starts suspecting Hawkins is cursed, too

He cries when he sees Eddie in a coma after s4

He's suspicious of Steve initially. That quickly changes when he learns Steve was the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down

He finds out Steve and Eddie are dating when he walks in on them making out on his couch

He has designated mugs for different things. He brings a Garfield 'gone fishing' mug out with him when he's fishing. He has a snowy Garfield mug that he pulls out in winter

He ends up dating Claudia Henderson sometime after the Upside Down shit is finally over

He treats Steve, Robin and Nancy like they're his kids, too. And Max. Then by the end of the year he's essentially half-adopted the entire Hawkins gang

He has a soft heart and cares deeply about troubled kids. His friends joke that he has a 'waif in need' alert (thanks @pukner)

He doesn't want to get married, claiming he won't marry 'til his boy can marry

He's a man of few words. He's not good at showing physical affection, but he's prouder of Eddie than he could ever say

Calls Eddie 'his boy'

Heavily distrusts the government. Milks them for all he can when Eddie's recovering in the hospital. Lays it on thick with Nancy's help and then winks at her when the government agent bustles out of the room

Loves watching the game on TV. Eddie complains when Steve and Wayne get together for the game but is secretly thrilled about his favourite people spending time together

His clothes get passed around from Eddie to Steve to Robin to Nancy and back again. When Robin shows up in one of his flannels he doesn't even blink

#stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie #my headcanons

[teambyler]

My response to "Will became less interesting and likeable in S4"

VERY interesting recent posts at the subreddit. One has people rank their favorite characters and Will is near the bottom of most lists. The other is screenshotted above.

A common complaint is that he had less to do. (That's for sure!) But another theme is that he is "boring" or "always crying" or "about to cry."

I left the following comment there:

Well, they've written him to be a closeted gay kid in a small town in the 80s. Struggling with his sexuality and coming out is going to be kind of... his everything. I went through it. (The 80s part at least.) And so no, he's not going to be as outgoing or "interesting and likeable" as a Steve Harrington or Dustin.

(Meanwhile, here is the current top post at the subreddit, with people going gaga in the comments:)

Instead, Will is incredibly awkward, reserved, closed-in, and does not project confidence and charisma that make people easily like him, because he hates and loathes and doubts himself. Every movement, every inflection, every look, every expression of himself, threatens his safety and well-being. He has been awkward and introverted and shy. But he has also been sensitive, caring, and empathetic. He was one of the more selfless characters this season. These qualities, at least the way he expresses them, don't win conventional popularity contests. Some people find that "bland." I find it to be admirable.

The Duffers have made clear that s5 will focus on Will:

“Will really takes center stage again in 5,” Ross Duffer told Variety. “This emotional arc for him is what we feel is going to hopefully tie the whole series together. Will is used to being the young one, the introverted one, the one that’s being protected. So part of his journey, it’s not just sexuality — it’s Will coming into his own as a young man.”

As he grows out of his shell and gets to assert himself more in s5, he probably becomes more "interesting and likeable" in the conventional sense.

==========

Anyway, just wanted to share. Will may not be the most "popular" character in the conventional sense, but he's won many hearts. Nor is he "bland" or just a "damsel in distress" (I saw those comments on the subreddit too ugh!) He's our original badass with a gun. Who cast fireball for his friends. He survived the frikkin Upside Down for one week by himself. He found the strength to communicate while being possessed that they needed to "CLOSE GATE" to defeat the monsters in s2, which would have killed him. He was willing to sacrifice his life. And in s3 and s4, he has been wanting to keep the party together and then put Mike and El's interest above his own.

Will is a hero. And heroes can be quiet gay boys, too.

-teambyler

#team will #byler #stranger things #reddit drama #bleh #will byers

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is… Asking, “Do you want a blanket?” (Prompt by @thefreakandthehair)

wc: 952 | Rated: T | cw: Hospital setting, mild descriptions of injuries and general hospital stuff, physical pain, one mention of blood

Tags: Post-s4, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Hospital

'Hospital Blankets'

“Steve? Hey, Steve?”

Steve is pulled out of a restless slumber by Eddie’s stage whispering. A twinge in his back fully rouses him as he remembers exactly where he is – in Hawkins General, bent up like a pretzel on what is quite possibly the world’s hardest chair, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his underwear. He blinks harshly, his vision blurry as he looks in the direction of the chattering, dark-headed form lying in the bed in front of him.

“Huh?” he grunts, his voice thick with sleep as he becomes very much aware of the overall pain radiating over his whole body.

His throat burns too, even from a single word. He instinctively reaches a hand up to the reddened scar there – already a formed habit – only to scratch himself with his patient wristband.

“Do you want a blanket?” Eddie continues, his weakened voice indicating he is barely conscious, let alone aware of Steve’s discomfort.

Steve arches his back this time but it causes his chewed-up sides to ache, the bandages stiffening and contorting. Their tacky borders pinching at the already tight skin and scar tissue.

He gives up and slumps back in the chair, clutching the armrests for dear life as a twang shoots directly up his spine to his head. He runs a hand through his hair, impossible to keep from flopping in his face considering all he can do is give himself a goddamn sponge bath these days.

He should have just listened to Robin (and more than a few disgruntled nurses) when they begged him to stay in his own room.

But his room feels empty. Big and dark, just like his family home but a little more white and clinical smelling. It gives him nightmares. If he manages to settle enough to sleep that is…

It’s kinda hard when your friends are scattered throughout the bowels of the local hospital, all in varying states of distress meanwhile, outside the world has half caved in.

“Steeeve,” Eddie whines this time as he repeats, “Do you want a blanket?”

He half dry-sobs his query and Steve has no choice but to shimmy upright – thankfully, the slippery cover of his stupid seat helps him up this time.

Blanket… he finally considers and finds himself stifling a shiver.

He didn’t think to bring a blanket with him as he was much too focused on getting out of bed and down the hall to Eddie’s room. A room that is much colder than his own, which the occupant clearly knows.

Eddie’s fist is balled up in his blankets, offering them up as he raises his shaky arm.

“No,” Steve says softly, shaking his head and waving him away.

Eddie needs it more.

With a herculean effort, Steve moves the chair a few inches closer to the bed, hoping it isn’t scraping the floor or tangling up any of the wires and tubes hooked up to beeping machines – god knows where they each begin and end. His sides all but seize up as he sits back down and forces himself to correct his posture.

“But you’re cold,” Eddie frowns, his voice impossibly small.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests.

Eddie’s weak hand punches at his banket in a haphazard swish motion.

“Get into bed with me…” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Rest with me, sweetheart.”

His head lolls to the side and Steve huffs out a laugh. Eddie is certainly on one hell of a cocktail of meds, mixed with the overall exhaustion that must come from almost dying. Steve can barely keep his own eyes open and he wasn’t anywhere near as close to it.

His heart thuds in his chest as thoughts of Eddie’s almost lifeless body rush back to his sleepy brain.

Dustin’s sobs… Robin scrambling to tear up clothes and sheets from the Upside Down version of the Munson’s trailer to make bandages… Nancy forcing everyone to focus as she devised a game plan, stopping every few moments to shoot down undead bats…

Steve screws his eyes shut and stands, bracing his arms on the sides of the chair before swiftly moving them to the bed for purchase.

At least Eddie’s right side is a little less banged up – but only just enough, Steve thinks as he hikes back the three warm layers of blankets enough to sit himself down on the bed. He swings his legs up next, clenching his jaw as every muscle in his body aches and pains from what transpired however many days ago.

The bed is a tight fit, but Steve doesn’t mind. The mattress is perhaps a fraction more comfortable than the chair, but he soon warms as he settles down and rights the blankets, smoothing them out for good measure and double-checking he hasn’t disturbed Eddie too much.

His body warms almost instantly as he rests his head beside Eddie’s on his pillow, positioned close enough that he can feel frizzed dark curls tickling his cheek. Eddie’s wispier than he expected and smells of the generic hospital soap – but at least the dried and caked-up blood is gone.

“That’s good…” Eddie coos, turning his head to face Steve, those tickling tendrils now replaced with a soft woosh of his breathing.

He can see the scar on Eddie’s cheek now. The bandage patch has been removed, exposing raw stitches today. Steve sighs, relieved by the smallest of steps forward.

Eddie can’t do much more than reach his hand out. And Steve takes it, interlacing their fingers despite the heart monitor clipped onto Eddie’s right index finger.

“Blanket’s... warm…” he mutters, nodding as he feels slumber tugging at him once again.

Eddie hums in agreeance and lightly squeezes his hand.

#i'm baaaaack (to posting - i've been sprinting my heart out) #big thanks to sandy for checking in and sending the positive vibes that got me back to writing 💖💖💖 #steddielovemonth #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #healing steddie #(now lets see if i can remember my new tagging system) #tw hospital #tw medical #tw blood

[ddejavvu]

spencer x reader where they met at the library in college and kind of became study buddies (+ lots of mutual pining), then flashforward to like s4/5 spencer and reader joins the bau :')

i'm gonna pretend spence was normal college age and not 13 <3

--

You spot the familiar stringy mop of brown hair before he spots you, his head downturned in a book that it doesn't look like he should be reading on government time.

"Agents," Agent Hotchner stands in front of you, a step to the left, "We have a new recruit. Agent L/N," Spencer's head shoots out of his book and around to face you at your name, his gooey brown eyes widening, "Is fresh out of her time at the academy, I've seen her reports and I'm confident she'll be an asset to this team."

Before anyone can get a polite greeting in, a kind smile or a nice to meet you, Spencer's springing out of his seat, rushing you and nearly pushing Agent Hotchner over in his overzealous attempt at a hug.

Someone cries, 'Reid!' and you're wondering if this is common occurrence, if he often bowls people over like a puppy excited to see his owner. But as he laughs wetly into your neck, tears in his eyes while he squeezes you, you're pretty sure this is special treatment.

"Spencer," You gush, grinning hard over his shoulder, "It's good to see you again!"

"You too!" He rocks you back and forth, lanky legs nearly tipping you over, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Because it was a nice surprise," You only back away when you see the other agents staring bewilderedly at you, because no matter how kind their smiles are, you don't want to ignore them for much longer in case you come off as rude. Spencer's less willing to let go, but he settles for keeping your arm locked in his grip.

"So, you know Spencer?" A blonde woman asks, slim and pretty. She has an amused smirk on her face, and you nod sheepishly.

"We met in college," You flex your arm, squeezing him closer, "We were study buddies for a while, then he graduated early and left me."

You send a silly glare his way, but he knocks his nose into your cheek as a reply, knowing you're not really vengeful about it.

"That sounds about right," An older man nods, beard greying as he runs a hand over it, "Agent L/N, is it? I remember hearing your name a while back. You've been destined for us, I think."

"That's me," You glance briefly around at the rest of your new team, finding similarly sweet expressions on their faces, "And- and you are?"

"David Rossi," He holds out a hand that you shake with a grin.

"Derek Morgan," A tall man to the left of Agent Hotchner steps up next, followed by the blonde from earlier, "Jennifer Jareau, but most people just call me JJ."

"I'm Emily, uh- Prentiss." A dark haired woman stands beside another blonde, a sleek black pantsuit beside a rainbow-themed dress.

"Penelope Garcia," The latter grins, holding out a hand that has several bracelets tucked around her wrist, "It's nice to meet you! I didn't know Reid had friends in college."

"Or ever," Morgan chuckles, and you squeeze Spencer's hand where he's still holding yours in reassurance.

"We were quite close," You recall lazy mornings in the library, then afternoons sprawled out over the lawn munching on pretzels and fruit, "Neither of us were very social, I think we found solace in that."

"Yeah," Spencer nods, hair flying around his face. You tuck a stray strand behind his ear with a smile as he rambles, "She never asked me to go drinking every friday night."

"Then I think you both need to join us this time," Emily grins, watching fondly as Spencer groans, face-planting into your shoulder, "You can both find out what you've been missing."

You're sure she means expensive booze and scantily-clad patrons, but Spencer's face still rests on your shoulder, and you know what you've really both been missing runs deeper: each other.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

[beansprean]

Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what their dynamic is. But when I see it, I SEE it.

(ID in alt and under cut)

1a. Nadja and Nandor standing at a small lit-up circular table at the nightclub a la their conversation in s4 e3, both in their outfits from that episode: Nadja is wearing her red leather dress with long gloves and nails, lace-up bodice, and two sparkly hats and Nandor is wearing his patterned brown tunic. The neon "Nadja's" sign is visible in the background. Nandor grins happily, pushing himself back from the table with both hands braced on the surface on either side of his half-drunk tumbler of blood. He cheers, "Thank you, Nadja!" Nadja, leaning on the table with both forearms, closes her eyes and nods with a smug smile, replying, "Anytime, babe." 1b. Repeat. Nandor turns to leave and is halfway out of frame when Nadja snarls, tossing up her palm, "Um, hello? Aren't you forgetting something?" Nandor pauses and looks back at her.

2a. Repeat. Nandor walks slowly back toward the table, fingers twiddling together at his waist and head tilted to the side, face scrunched up in confusion as question marks float around his head. Nadja continues to glare at him, frowning, palm out. 2b. Repeat. Still looking very confused, Nandor inches closer to her, placing a palm on her shoulder and tilting his head the other way, craning his chin up as if searching for something on her head. Nadja begins to look confused now, as well, wrist dropping to hand her hand in front of her chest and head leaning back slightly, wary.

3a. Repeat. Nandor leans forward those last few inches and quickly places a close-lipped kiss on Nadja's temple, causing her to startle and freeze in surprise. 3b. Repeat. Nandor quickly whisks himself away from the table again, half out of the frame and showing no signs of coming back this time. Nadja, a little flustered, throws out both arms helplessly toward the abandoned glass on the table and bares her fangs, shouting after him, "Pay your bill you fucking plonker!!" This is a gag lifted from Brooklyn 99. /end ID

#wwdits #nandor the relentless #nadja of antipaxos #wwdits s4e3 #nadjas nightclub #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #this gag is from brooklyn 99 for those unaware

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 25th-31st 2023

Happy New Year everyone! May 2024 be better than 2023, and may season 7 be good to us!!!

Complete

Battle Born by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (NHL AU, Established Buddie | 11K | Teen): Buck comes down with appendicitis during the playoffs. He decides to play through it.

🔥 through tooth and claw (to where you are) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Post-S6, Hurt Buck, Getting Together | 18K | Teen): With a reverent hush, Christopher said, “Whoa, it’s so close.” And it was almost as though Buck needed to have that obvious fact pointed out to him before the vague dread of animal instinct that had been pooling in his stomach could solidify into a real, actionable fear. It’s so close. Something’s wrong. AKA: The Rabid Coyote fic

we’ve got something permanent (i mean in the way we care) by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (PWP, Breeding Kink | 7K | Explicit): Buck has baby fever and it’s Eddie’s job to give him what he wants. Kind of.

Here Where We Should Be (Kiss Me, It’s Christmas) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Christmas, Getting Together | 5K | General): It’s Christmas and Eddie decides he can’t possibly wait any longer to start kissing Buck.

well, I hate to be a bother, but it's you and there's no other by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Eddie starts dating again and learns a few things about himself. The most surprising one? He's actually ready this time. Now he just needs to get Buck on board.

in a little while (you will find some relief then) by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure (Hurt Buck | 10K | Teen): Buck gets a severe case of poison oak. He handles it about as well as you'd expect.

🔥 The Nearness of You by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Work Trip | 17K | Teen): Eddie reassured himself that he could do this. Other teams coming in were probably going to be staying at the same hotel in the same double rooms and it was very possible that none of them were going to be having sex. Or even lying awake at night thinking about it.

We Can't Succeed but We Love Trying by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Breeding Kink | 15K | Explicit): In which Eddie has the thought that if Buck's gonna "donate" his sperm anywhere, it should be with, well. Eddie.

all it took was a backwards baseball cap by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit) : Or, the one in which Eddie loses his shit at Buck wearing a backwards baseball cap. Seriously, can this man get more attractive? Is he trying to kill Eddie?

drawstrings by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (PWP, Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Eddie helps Buck fix his drawstrings. How was he supposed to know it’d lead to him sitting in Bucks lap?

🔥 come with me, together, we can take the long way home (series) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Canon compliant | 105K | T to M):

Get me through the night; Make me feel alright (Post-S3 Finale | 11K | Mature): After an emotionally-gutting reunion with Abby, Buck turns to old coping mechanisms. Eddie helps him find a better way. In Uncertain Times, The Uncertain Rules Apply (Pre-S4 | 22K | Teen): Covid comes to LA. Eddie copes. Or doesn't. Holding out for Something More (Stuck in Reverse) (Post S4E3/Lone Star Crossover | 26K | Teen): LA is coming out of lockdown and the world is returning to some sense of normalcy. But going back to the way things were hurts more than Buck expected. While his therapist challenges him to confront what he really wants, the team takes a trip to Austin... and El Paso. so far from being free (S4E4: 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, S4E5: Buck Begins | 46K | Teen): That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible.

carry my heart home to you by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After his parents join him for a therapy session, Buck starts to learn that some people are never going to be able to give you what you need. And some people are.

if you say it with your hands by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (S2 | 10K | Teen): Buck thinks it must be a habit he still hasn’t dropped from his days in the army, or maybe it comes with the territory of being a dad – but Eddie can nap pretty much anywhere. or, Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it.

🔥 into thirty separate parts by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (S6 | 12K | Teen): “Theoretically,” says Buck, as soon as Eddie picks up the phone, “your ex writes a book about you.” There is a pregnant pause. “…Right,” Eddie decides on, finally. or, Taylor’s book comes out.

close friends (that you lowkey want to fuck, but in a totally platonic way) by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Instagram rolls out a new feature, and Buck doesn't totally understand how it works.

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (POV Bobby, Hurt Eddie, Getting Together | 8K | Teen) Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

Keep My Heart Warm In Yours by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Christmas, Post-S6, Getting Together | 18K | Mature): Christopher decides that he wants to go skiing, Buck makes it happen and the cabin at the foot of the mountains turns out to be quite the romantic backdrop for their little getaway.

Hiding the Christmas Present (of You and Me) by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Christmas | 7K | General): Buck thought he was going to spend Christmas alone. His family decides to correct that assumption.

If I Fall, Can You Pull Me Up? by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Hurt Buck, Established Buddie | 7K | General): Eddie could pick Buck from a million miles away. Buck’s entire being was like one bright light in an otherwise cloudy sky. So, he was really interested to know why some stranger was wearing his boyfriend’s turnout coat and pretending to be him.

Used to Think That Lovin' Meant a Painful Chase by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): It’d been fine when Buck had Eddie’s dick in his mouth. It wasn’t often that Buck got to see Eddie come undone but he’d been treated to a private showing and the pride he had being the one to take Eddie there was indescribable. But then things got… weird. Or maybe, it was Buck that got weird? He still wasn’t really sure where it started, to be honest.

for all the words unspoken by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Work Trip, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): "Buck." Eddie had already dropped his bag and was standing next to the bed, hands on his hips. "We've slept in the same bed before. I'm pretty sure we'll manage to do the same in this one, it's humorously large. Don't!" He held up a hand as Buck opened his mouth. His lips twitched, though, so Buck took it as a win. ... or, the one with only one bed.

underneath the tree by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP, BDSM | 2K | Explicit): Frowning to himself in concentration, Eddie carefully folds the wrapping paper around the corner of the box. He has no idea how his mother makes this look so easy, even after she walked him through it earlier on FaceTime. Under the tree, Eddie’s present whines plaintively.

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 20K | 8/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 102/? | 276K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Love Ends. by rowan_wood (Exes to Lovers | 4/17 | 5K | Explicit): But what if it doesn't?

in my head by yourcatfishfriend/ @your-catfish-friend (Friends With Benefits | 8/9 | 30K | Explicit): Buck is confidently bisexual. Eddie isn't sure. Buck helps him figure it out.

Re-Read

🔥 Always, All Ways by ashavahishta/ @ashavahishta (A/B/O AU | 85K | Explicit): Buck’s the only omega in the 118. He’s got secrets, and walls a mile high. Eddie’s the alpha determined to knock them down.

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #epic buddie fic rec #911 fanfiction #911 fic #911 fanfic