#*sighs* i wanna leave this shithole of a country

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

late night calls

Summary: It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Plus size reader

Wordcount: 4.1k+

Warnings: fluff, phone sex, mentions of bomb attacks, sexism, self doubt, yearning?

A/N: I know that probably more time passed between the bombing and Javier being send back to the states but I chose to ignore it. For the plot. Hope you enjoy it :)

Masterlist

*taglist in reblog

You still weren’t used to the heat. Yes, you did move to Texas because you wanted a fresh start. But the fucking heat would take some time to get used to. Nothing was holding you back in Maine. You had spent the last years taking care of your sick mother. She had died just before Christmas and with her all the family you had left. 

So coming with the new year you took a leap of faith, packed your things, and moved to a little town close to the Mexican border. You got a job at the local police station as a secretary that made a decent sum of money each month. Life was good. At least you told yourself so. 

You had made a couple of friends. Mostly the older generation of the town. You weren’t big on going out, nor had the town a big nightlife in the first place. That’s why you insisted on taking care of Chucho after he told you one day at the diner that he had to get a hip replacement. His wife had died a long time ago and his son wasn’t able to leave work.

“Don’t you have some better stuff to do cariño?” He had asked.

“What better way to start your day than on your Farm, Senior Peña.” You had winked at him.

Chucho might have been a stubborn old man, but once he got out of surgery and was in pain he was thankful that he accepted your help. That was also the first time you heard him talk about his son. Javier.

“Be a dear and call him to tell him I’m okay?” He had mumbled before he dozed off again. You had chuckled, kissed his cheek before you left him for the day to went over to his farm. Once you had taken care of everything for the day you sat down on his kitchen island and grabbed the phone, dialing the first number he had written down.

You had suggested moving into his place in his recovery time. It was a beautiful place. Mexico was just on the other side of the river down the property. But the best part about this place was the air conditioning. Okay… You really loved this place and it definitely was an upgrade to the small apartment you were renting in the city. 

Waiting for his son to pick up the phone you wondered what kind of job he would have that he wasn’t able to take care of his father. You didn’t judge him, okay maybe a little, you were more curious. You had seen some pictures of him spread through the house. But you had never asked about him.

“DEA Office, how may I help you?” A woman answered your call.

“Uhm… Is Javier Peña available? It’s about his father,” you tried.

“Oh of course. Agent Peña just got in. Please hold.”

Agent Peña? DEA? You had so many questions but they died on your tongue when the call connected again.

“This is Peña.” A deep voice said. He reminded you of his father.

“Hello Mr. Peña. I’m only calling to let you know that your father’s surgery went fine. He wanted me to forward this to you.”

“Javier, please. Not even my father likes to be called Mr. Peña.” 

“Oh I noticed that,” you chuckled.

“He’s fine yeah?” You heard something shuffle on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. Already made some jokes and told me to make sure I feed the horses in the right order.”

“You’re taking care of the horses?”

“Yeah. I’m temporarily moving in to help your father.”

“That’s very nice of you. He never told me about you.”

“There’s not much to tell.” You got up and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m only here for the air conditioning.” You joked. He laughed.

“Fuck I miss air conditioning. Hold on.” You sat down again, hearing only damp voices.

“Fuck. I need to go. Please call me if something comes up. Dad has my home number too, right?” He was speaking quickly and you wondered what was happening. 

“Yes, he wrote it down for me. Everything okay?”

“Yeah hopefully. Just some work stuff. Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Will do Javier.”

Chucho got home a week later and he was the worst at listening to doctors’ orders. You still had to go into the station to work, but you spend your whole time worrying about him. It was funny to you how he seemingly had become a father figure to you in less than a couple of weeks. 

Of course you found him standing at the kitchen counter when you got to the ranch, the phone tugged between his shoulder and his ear, making himself a sandwich.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I was. Then Javi called and I got hungry.” 

“Stubborn old man,” you grumbled and he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I brought dinner.”

“Fine. Here. Javi wants to say Hello,” he handed you the phone before he slowly trotted towards the couch. Shaking your head you put the phone to your ear.

“You are really strict with him,” Javier said.

“Someone has to. Are all you Peña men this stubborn?” 

He chuckled. “You have no idea. How is he doing?”

“Overall good. Not complaining as much as in the beginning but then again I am bribing him with my delicious cooking.”

Javier and you had spoken to each other at least two times per week since the first time you called to tell him about his father’s surgery. You learned that he was a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar. You learned that he was feeling guilty about not being there for his father and to take care of the ranch. You learned lots of things about Javier Peña. 

“Ah... Delicious cooking. Maybe one day you get to cook for me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You teased, hearing him take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably. 

“Just that my father is praising your cooking so much I wonder if it really is that good.”

“Oh, it is, Peña.” You found yourself smiling. You heard him sigh.

“Everything’s okay over there?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. Definitely a lie. You nodded.

“You wanna stay on the phone while I prepare dinner?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

The better Chucho got, the longer the phone calls between Javier and you seem to get. It was mostly at night after he got home from whatever he had been doing at work that day intending to check in on his father. But after a few sentences, he asked about your day. About how you felt. What your plans for the coming weekend were. 

“You sound exhausted Hermosa,” he sighed. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream and drown your sorrows.

“Just the usual sexist bullshit at the PD,” you groaned.

“Want me to kill them?” Javier joked.

“You take care of your nemesis, I take care of mine. But I appreciate the help.” You sat down on your bed, knowing that this was usually the room he occupied when he was here to visit his father. 

“Noted. But if it’s any help, I had a shit day too. They seem to get more frequent the longer I stay in this shithole.”

“Maybe you have to focus on the good things of being in this country. There have to be some. The food probably. I always enjoy new food. Maybe go to a museum? I don’t want to intrude but you don’t seem like you do anything besides work and well…”

It was pure accident that you had heard the voice of a woman one night when you had called him for a change. You knew that he looked good, you had seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you, that he did have a girlfriend. He clarified that he didn’t, that this was just a woman he got intel from. You didn’t ask any more questions, it wasn’t your right. That it hurt to think of him and another woman was something you chose to ignore.

“I never thanked you,” Javier said. You let yourself fall back into bed, staring at the stars outside the window.

“What for?” you asked quietly.

“Thanking care of Dad and the ranch. Listening to my drunken ramblings. You’re a good friend,” he said. You smiled, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

“You’re a good friend too, Javi.”

Chucho didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not when he was back to his old health after a couple of months. But he had asked you to move in with him anyway. And you loved to live with the old man. Enjoying not being on your own all the time. And you loved helping him out at the ranch. The PD was still getting on your nerves and you were seriously considering just quitting.

“I hate it. I fucking hate it. I get one dumb line after another, just because I’m a woman. That I helped to get together the evidence to put that fucker away that killed all those women last year is not even of interest. FUCK!” you complained to Chucho. He knew about all of this already. Yet he jumped from his seat when he saw that you did cut yourself while making dinner.

“Careful.” He took your hand in his, leading you over to the sink to look at your wound. It didn’t hurt that much. 

“What about if I take care of dinner today, and you go and take a bath? Javier is probably gonna call in a bit…” Chucho winked, putting a bandaid on your finger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“Just that I see the way you smile every time my son calls.”

“Two whole days off? What are you gonna do with yourself?” You joked. You were laying in the bathtub, the phone in your hand as you talked to Javier.

“Don’t know. I feel like I need a home-cooked meal so I’m gonna nag Connie to cook one.”

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“Is that water I hear?” he asked and you blushed. Why? You didn’t know. You had undressed numerous times while on the phone with him, but being completely naked and him knowing about it…

“I’m in the bathtub. Chucho’s orders. He’s making dinner before I kill myself doing it.”

You were met with silence.

“You okay, Javi?” You sucked your bottom lip in. “I did only cut my finger,” you joked.

“Just trying to get the picture of you naked in the bathtub out of my head.”

“You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to hear your voice and I’m hard…”

“Javi…” you whispered, feeling hot all of the sudden.

“Will you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what?”

“If you think about me? Because you are on my mind all the time. I keep picturing how you look. If you have long hair or short hair. What color your eyes have. If your smile is only half as beautiful as your laugh. Fuck… I just wanna see you. I wanna feel you. I wanna taste you Hermosa.” 

Unintentionally your unoccupied hand had made its way down your body, your breath coming in short pants.

“Keep talking Javier…” you whispered, your hand slipping in between your legs.

“I want to touch you. Fuck I bet your skin is so soft. I’d worship you. I stay up at night wondering if I could fit your boobs in my hands. What sound you would make when I close my mouth around your nipple…”

“Shit Javi…” You moaned.

“I wonder how you taste. Are you wet for me baby?” he asked and you heard a zipper being undone on his end of the line.

“So wet. You always make me wet. I touch myself when we get off the phone, wondering how it would feel to have you here…” you whimpered.

“I would have fucked you on every flat surface in the house if I was there. The thought of you sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind.”

You circled your clit with your fingers, a low moan coming from your lips.

“I wonder how you feel wrapped around my cock. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum. I want to hear it so badly…” You were sure he was fucking his hand and you whimpered at the thought.

“I wish it was my hand wrapped around your big cock right now. God, I wish it was your hand between my legs and not mine…” You bit your lips, keeping yourself quiet.

“Put two fingers into that cunt and make yourself cum. I wanna hear you…” he groaned on the phone. 

“Fuck Javi…” you cried quietly, two fingers inside your cunt. “I wish it was your cock and not my fingers.”

“Me too… Me too babe.” he moaned. “Circle that clit for me. Cum for me.”

Circling your clit you almost let the phone fall into the tub when you came with a low moan. You heard him cry out your name on the other end of the line before all that was heard was both of your heavy breathing. 

“Javi…?” you asked after a while, still high from one of the best orgasms you ever had. You heard the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette.

“I meant every single word Hermosa. I want you.” You never thought you would hear these words from him or any man for that matter. You weren’t a typical beauty. You weren’t skinny, you loved food and your curves showed it. On most days you were happy with the way you looked. But you also knew how Javier looked. He was an attractive man and you knew he did indeed have a new woman every other night if he felt like it. He might be interested now, but once he would meet you, there was no way he would make true to all the things he said.

“You’re quiet.” he noticed.

“Yeah. Just coming down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” you joked and he sighed.

“I might not see you, but I know that you’re lying.”

“Okay, it was the best orgasm I ever had.”

“Hermosa…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just let me enjoy the illusion of a handsome DEA Agent being interested in little ol’ me.”

“I’ll make sure you believe that it isn’t an illusion until we do see each other.”

Months went by and by now you were pretty sure you were in love with Javier Peña. The phone bill was taking dimensions you were almost guilty about, but Chucho only smiled not taking your money, telling you to make his boy happy. Safe to say he approved.

You had told him about your insecurities and Javier made sure to tell you every time you talked to each other that it didn’t matter how you looked. He told you that you could be green and he’d still go down on you the first time he would meet you.

And you wanted to believe him, you really did. You had told him how you looked after he tried to talk you into sending pictures of yourself “with or without clothes, I don’t care. Though you can guess what I prefer.” he had teased. Javier never made a secret about how much he liked you. Enjoyed talking to you. He told you he had stopped sleeping around for god’s sake. 

He was supposed to visit his father in a couple of weeks and the more time passed, the more nervous you became. You didn’t doubt that he meant every single word he said to you. It was years of being on the receiving end of jokes and being the ugly friend that automatically let you feel like you weren’t good enough.

The worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you were beautiful. You loved how you looked. But there still was this voice inside your head, telling you that you would never be good enough for anyone. That there was no way someone would ever fall in love with you.

It was a typical morning at work. You had your coffee and all the files you had to update. Javier had talked to you until you fell asleep, telling you that he felt like he was failing in taking Escobar down. He didn’t tell you much, not wanting you to worry or to risk someone listening, but you could tell that he was exhausted. “I fucked up, Hermosa. I really fucked up and I have no idea how to fix this,” were the words that he had whispered to you in the middle of the night. 

You didn’t ask what he meant, just telling him that you’d be there for him, no matter what.

Typing as usual you stopped as the song on the radio was, interrupted by a news report of a bombing in Bogota, Colombia. You knew that there were bombings all the time over there, and Javier always assured you that he was perfectly fine. But with how he was last night, you had a bad feeling.

“Fuck. When are they going to stop that shit over there? If I was there I’d caught Escobar years ago,” one of the officers said. You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply.

“Isn’t Chucho’s son over there pretty face?” The officer stopped in front of your desk and you opened your eyes.

“Yeah he is,” you said.

“Maybe if he would know how to do his job, shit like that wouldn’t go down like that,” he grinned and you wanted to stop, but your hand was faster. Slapping his cheek you got off your seat.

“And maybe if you would know how to use your dick your wife wouldn’t fuck your colleague over there, but you’ll never know, right?” You grinned, picking your purse and walking out.

“I’m taking today off.” You yelled over your shoulder as you walked to your car.

Javier didn’t pick up the phone. Which wasn’t what concerned you on the first day. He would have to deal with the shit that had happened over there. But when three days passed and you could see Chucho getting nervous as well you became restless. The ranch had never been so spotless. The horses had been fed in record time, and you took long rides along the river. If something had happened to him someone would have called, right? You couldn’t even reach his partner Murphy who you had talked to occasionally when Javier wasn’t at his desk. 

When a week passed and you hadn’t heard anything you were close to making your way to the airport to just fly down there. What if he died? What if he was gone and you hadn’t told him that you loved him? That you fell in love with a man you had never met before? Getting off the horse you sat down at the tree closest to the river. It was quiet here. This was the outer area of Chucho’s ranch, your favorite spot. You had joked about building a house here once when you were out with the old man and he had agreed that it would be the perfect spot. Sighing you drank from the bottle of water you brought.

Where the fuck are you Javier?

Another week went by without any sign of life from him. You had called the DEA office again but no one seemed to be able to give you an answer. You were growing restless. Working seemed to be the only thing that could get you off the spiraling thoughts of what if? You really had it bad for the man. Shaking your head to yourself you sighed as you parked your car on the usual spot in front of the ranch. Chucho’s truck was gone, he had a doctor's appointment to check on his hip and would meet his lady friend for dinner afterward. You had met her, Estella, once. She was a beautiful woman and Chucho seemed very happy with her. With a sad smile you killed the engine, getting out of the car. On your way to the house you groaned, turning around because you forgot your take out. You weren’t in the mood to cook and the pizza from that place that Javier had told you about was the best you had ever had. While you opened the passenger door of your car you heard the front door of the house open.

Shit. Burglars? You didn’t have anything on you, you could use as a gun. You knew you could probably make it to the horse stable to find something, but not in these fucking heels. Why did you wear these fucking heels? Maybe you could make them choke on the pizza? But then again you were looking forward to eating it. 

“Just take what you want, I won’t look.” You called over your shoulder, hoping to just be spared for the day. Closing your eyes you sighed when you were met with no reaction. You heard footsteps on the porch that stopped.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit today. So either take whatever the fuck you want or kill me….” you turned around and all the words died on your lips.

Standing there, leaning against the porch was no other than Javier fucking Peña. Alive. And looking even better than on the various pictures hanging in the house. He was bare feet, wearing tight jeans and a green shirt that was half undone. Opening your mouth to talk, all that came out was a gasp. He looked at you, his eyes mirroring the million emotions inside of you. Looking down at yourself you felt shy all of the sudden. This isn’t how you imagined meeting him for the first time. You wanted to be pretty. To wear some spanx. To have some make-up on. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep. You were happy to see him, you really were. But the ride of emotions you had gone through in the last couple of days took hold of you. Walking quickly towards him, you pushed against his chest, the air leaving his lungs in a puff.

“You fucking idiot. I thought you died.” You pushed him again.

“Do you have any idea how awful I felt since I heard the news of the bombing? You…” You pushed against his chest again, but this time he was faster, grabbing your wrists as he looked down at you. You felt the tears in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. Almost a year of phone calls and now he was standing here in front of you. Alive and warm. And smelling so fucking good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding both of your wrists against his chest as he looked at you. 

“I should have called but I told you I fucked up. Badly. And I had to fix it and…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and fuck… you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” he smiled a little.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You huffed, still annoyed.

“No?” he asked teasingly, smirking at you as he leaned down. You shook your head, biting your lip. God, you wanted to kiss him. 

“Can I at least try?” he asked, his lips brushing over your temple. You swallowed, shivering when you felt his cheek against yours. Fuck. Why did he smell so good?

“You may try, but I’m really, really mad at you Javier.”

You closed your eyes when he released your wrists and put one of his hands on your back to push you closer against him. He kissed your cheek before he straightened to his full height and looked down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your cheek.

“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” he teased before he leaned down to kiss you. You melted against him, your hands running up his chest, holding on to the back of his neck as one hand ran through his hair, to pull him down. Kissing him didn’t come close to anything you could have imagined, his tongue parting your lips and you couldn’t help the moan against his lips. 

“Still angry?” he whispered out of breath against your lips.

“Slightly less angry,” you whispered back before you found yourself in his arms as he carried you into the house.

[dilfwaynes]

hi!! can i request a hc of the batfam reaction of their eastasian!reader gf  experiencing racism? thank you <33

just a reminder if you took place in any involvement of asian hate block me rn bitch :)

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this anon, i tried to make it accurate without stepping over any boundaries since im not asian myself. if anyone finds any sort of this offensive pls dm me !!

warning ; racism, batfam beating hoes, mention of blood

parings : bruce wayne x asian!reader, jason tood x asian!reader, dick grayson x asian!reader, stephanie brown x asian!reader, tim drake x asian!reader, damian wayne x asian!reader

BRUCE WAYNE:

it’ll honestly take a minute for bruce to realize what happened

when first entering the store he took notice of the man glaring but brushed it off thinking it was directed towards him as bruce wayne

you however didnt really pay attention to the dirty looks being thrown at you

with bruce excusing himself to the restroom and makes a promise of a quick return, you wander around the area by yourself

it was all fine until a man approaches you, giving a fast glance at him before turning away. there was definitely something up with him

“you don’t belong here”

your head shot up at his words, looking around you to make sure he was talking to you

“excuse me?” you lift an eyebrow at him, knowing what he was hinting at

“you fucking heard me, you don’t belong here. go back to your country.”

you inch away as he steps closer,”you better back the fuck away..”

he simply gives a smug face only coming closer,”or what?” you tighten your jaw when he loosely lets out a slur, your fists clenched.

“or i dislocate your arm.”bruce’s voice rings out, deep in anger as his eyes flicker to you and scanning to see if you were ok physically.

the ugly bitch’s face pales when he realizes who’s your boyfriend. without hesitation bruce yanks him away from you, slamming him to the wall

demanding for a first and last name,  squeezing his neck when the guy stays quiet

shaking he gives in and tells, flinching when bruce slams him against the wall one last time before dropping him

“i guaranteed whatever poor status you do contain i’ll tear it completely, say goodbye to your job.” he grabs for your hand and brings you into him as you both walk away.

“i’m sorry i shouldn’t have left you alone, my fault,”he presses a kiss to your temple.”and please don’t think any worth of that garbage’s words.”

you shake your head,”he was just some lowlife, not worth thinking about.” you reply leaning into him.

he looked at you and could tell no matter what those words still hurt somewhat and it angered him to no end

no one deserved to hear that disgusting shit, especially not his girlfriend.

his eyes hardens but doesn’t push further��� to make you anymore uncomfortable than you probably already are

giving another kiss to the side of your head he makes a quiet promise to himself not to leave you alone anymore in public with disgusting people like that around

jason todd:

as soon as the slur leaves the guy’s lips jason’s fist collides to his jaw, no doubt   shattering it

you and jason were grabbing lunch at some restaurant slash bar since it was the first time in a few days jason was free

everything was okay until you got up to go to the bathroom and some guy bumped into you

jason watched with hardening eyes as you apologize instead of the guy who slammed into you

“watch where the fuck you’re going at.”

you fall shock at the word, staying in place

while jason is on his feet in no time, swinging to the asshole’s face

screams were heard as well as the sound of bones breaking from his fist impact, the guy stumbling to the floor

“you racist fucking prick that’s my girlfriend you ugly fuck,”lifting him by his shirt he grabs his face and turns him to you.”apologize to her before i break your fucking face.”

he quickly rambles apologizes, crying in fear or pain. most likely a mix of both

jaaon lets him go and gives him another punch, this time to the nose. finding satisfaction at the pool of blood now seeping out

jason grabs your hand and starts to lead you outside,”let’s go eat somewhere else and forget about this shithole.”

you barely had time to give a reaction to anything as everything happened so fast

“hey look at me, don’t listen to that worthless fuck and his fucked up mindset. i dont know what to say to comfort you since i never experienced anything like this.” he stops at the car, placing his hands onto your shoulders

you nod sighing lightly, you only wanted a simple lunch with your boyfriend but instead got hate crime for simply  breathing.

“it’s nothing i haven’t gone through before,”he shakes his head blue eyes filling up with rage.

“no one’s gonna be doing that anymore, or at least getting away with it while i’m around

DICK GRAYSON:

he was completely taken by surmise at the slur being thrown at you, as well as the fault of you being the root of the covid 19

but before he had any time to react you were already on your feet glaring,”the fuck you just called me you piece shit.”

before he could reply you already kneed him and punched him between the eyes, dick laughing at the cries of pain

“you want me to take over or you wanna handle it babe?”

even how badly he wanted to beat the shit out of the pos the choice was yours

you denied and wanted to handle this on your own

but everytime the guy tried to get up dick would just shake his head and tell him to stay down, or simply push him back down

eventually if you start going too far richards would pull you away and tell you hes not worth it

he understands your anger but he doesn’t want you to past a line you won’t recover from bc of some worthless grime

“c’mon, he’s not worth anymore of our time. lets go eat pizza.”

DAMIAN WAYNE:

swing first talk later

he’ll just look at guy for a few seconds with a blank face

then he’s literally knocking them out

will probably kick him into the wall or ground

u dont know if you wanna pull him away because you already the tabloids, or if you wanna let him continue to beating the guy

damian probably wouldn’t realize how much he beat the guy to a pulp until you’re tugging him away

nudging his neck with to your nose to try and calm him down

he’ll end the fight with spitting on him tbh

your face reddens with anger when your eyes met the racist bitch, enjoying the view of his blood on the floor

“racist piece of shit,” he hisses before finally turning his back brow still frowning with anger

unlike the others (mentioned) he also knows and experienced racism and understands your point view way more

and know bow to comfort you better tbh

afterwards he’ll talk to you and comfort you, as well as opening up about his racist encounters, as well as his mothers.

if you’re still upset about what happened some hours later he 100% offers to beat up the guy again

you laugh it off cos hes serious about doing detective work, finding the guy and beating him to a pulp

you thank him but deny his offer and settle to confiding into him and just telling him how your feelings

STEPHANIE BROWN:

“are you fucking serious right now bitch?”

steph deadpans staring at the girl who called you the slur with ease, going on about how you were the cause of corona and to go back to your country

shocked at the words, hearing all of this before but it still doesn’t fail everytime you hear them

turning to you and seeing the hurt on your face from the word, she quickly turns to seeing red

without a second thought she grabs the collar of the woman’s shirt

“you’re gonna fucking apologize to my girlfriend right now or i’m gonna slam your face into the floor and break it

you stay still, pleased at watching the girl shake in fear under steph as she chokes out a mesh of a shit rushed apologizes

stephanie throws her down to the ground after her third apologize

“are you okay?” she knew you weren’t but asking the question would lead into the stage of comforting you

you nod but go on to tell her that this isn’t the first or last time this will happen, but it still never fails to shock you

she frowns at your experiences and doesn’t quite know what to do to help since she never went thru anything like that

she offers to take you to your favorite restaurant and end the day in wayne manor watching whatever you wanted

smiling when you accept, pulling you in her and pressing a kiss on-top of your head

“dont worry i’ll beat any jackass that pulls any racist shit.”

TIM DRAKE:

i think he’ll be the less  violent one out of everyone

he would honestly be so disgusted and gross out at humanity and how the woman thinks shes superior just because she’s white

if it was a guy saying what was said, then he would probably hit them ngl

but he takes the higher road with the woman, belittling and ending her with his vocabulary

and you’re pretty sure that his words hurt her more than an actual punch would 

you laugh when he compares her built to a buffalo

he then goes on to a more education lean, explaining how skin tone has nothing to do with a person, and she should adapt to modern times and stop being a racist cunt

after he ends it he goes on to find out who she is and email/call her workplace to inform what kind of employee they have

probably also goes on to make sure she wont be hired anywhere else

comforts you alot and and will get you anything you want

prob gets you both milkshakes as you vent to him about today and other racist things said to you

hates how you have to go thru any of this for simply existing

the  incident opens his eyes and he starts talking to bruce about opening a charity for ‘stop asian hate’

would shy away from the press and say you both came up with the fund

u’ll dismiss that rq and tell everyone it was all tim’s idea

all the money goes people got assaulted and paying for any hospital bills or anything needed

[anntoldst0ries]

Lost in Translation

If someone told me a couple of months ago how invested I’d be in OH and the story, I would laugh at them. But here we are, isn’t life full of surprises :) 

Apologies for mistakes, if you notice any please feel free to let me know!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC 

Word Count: 2,358

Summary: What happens when it’s just Dr Ramsey and his thoughts?

Warnings: None, just a tiny bit of angst & fluff. A lot of introspection!

~~~~~~~

After what felt like the longest shift ever, Dr Ethan Ramsey finally entered his apartment. He closed the door, leaving the whirlwind of his professional life outside.

A biscuit golden retriever jumped at him with all the might in his paws and the sore muscles of a 37-year old diagnostician almost gave up under the pressure of furry ball of fluff.

“I’m happy to see you too, buddy. But you need to go easy on me today.”

Jenner just stared at him with those big black eyes, licked his hand and went back to solving the most important problem of the day: how to cadge some real food, the one hooomans eat.

Although he was far from contemplating whether dogs have what resembles an intelligence (it was someone else’s specialty) he couldn’t help but think Jenner knows. This constantly salivating, instinct-driven creature somehow understands what it is that Ethan asked him to do and why.

“Great, Ramsey. You are going crazy, may as well admit yourself to the psychiatric ward right now. Dr Keller will be delighted to see you. And all the predators of Edenbrook will finally have a proper fodder - Ethan freaking Ramsey has officially freaked out.”

Having poured himself a decent glass of scotch, he stood in front of a giant window overlooking the bay. The waters were quiet and calm, a total contrast to the fire burning inside him after taking a long sip. There was something soothing in the almost painful feeling. 10 years ago downing a whole glass of neat scotch was way beyond his repertoire. One of the perks of being over 35, he guessed. It was scientifically proven that man’s tastebuds change drastically after reaching certain age. He had to admit, there was at least a grain of truth in this. The gold liquid was no longer just bitter and harsh; it had texture, flavour, a complexity - something he wasn’t able to appreciate before. As a doctor, he also knew that he’s got 20, maybe 25 years of this experience left - until ruthless time and ageing will blend all tastes into one.

The lights of the night danced around the spacious living room, their gold reflections creating an aura of mystery in a dimly-lit apartment. He looked around and his gaze landed on antique vase, a present Naveen brought him from Greece for his 35th birthday. It complemented tasteful interior design, expensive decorations and custom furniture perfectly.

As beautiful as they were, all these things made him feel nothing. It was almost ironic that this unquestionably beautiful property, paid for with his own blood, sweat and tears, he couldn’t possibly care less about. Right now, he could have been in some shithole in Roxbury, sipping cheap beer and it would make no difference whatsoever. Except, it would have saved him a mini fortune, which he was now spending on this goddamn penthouse in Beacon Hill. A place he never ever spent more than 4 hours at a time in.

He smirked at the thought - that’s exactly what Naveen said about his own lake house before saying goodbye to his mentee last year. Back when he thought he was going to die soon. Was it surprising? No, everyone was expecting that Ethan will one day take Naveen’s place as the best diagnostician in the world. He considered this not so much an honour, but rather a tribute to his biggest idol, his friend, his father figure. If he was to ever repay Dr Banerji for everything he’s done for him, there was only one way - he needed to be the best among the best.

They called him the best diagnostician of his generation. Although he resented the title, this label given to him by the mutual admiration society (that he had zero respect for), he was very much aware that he was exceptional at his job. Ethan never thought of this as bragging, because bragging made people vain. He liked to think of it as self-confidence, which, as it grew stronger, made him work for his patients even harder than he ever thought possible. The people whose lives he saved, they had to have confidence in him. They had to believe that he knows what he’s doing. And how could he instil a sense of confidence in them, had he not had it himself?

“You can’t give what you don’t have.” - the sentence kept echoing in his head. Tobias used to say that to him all the time, he lived by these words. It was probably the only relic of their once unbreakable (or so they stupidly thought) bond and also the only thing relating to Tobias that didn’t make him want to gag.

So Ethan accepted his role as a successor of the greatest diagnostician in the country. Because there was a mission and a responsibility behind this fate. Because there was a sense of safety in predictable realms of medicine. Also, because… it felt like kicking Tobias right in the crotch. Although he’d never admit this to anyone, least of all himself, the unwritten competition they were subject to for the past 17 years, helped him keep a laser focus on the tasks in front of him. And every time he was able to wipe the smile off Mass Kenmore’s ‘star’ handsome face, Ethan felt satisfaction.

Becoming the man he was today required a lot of changes. He got rid of all the needs of usual Everyman. First, he swept his feelings under the carpet of indifference and cynicism. Then, he learned how to live among people, but without delving into deep and ‘meaningful’ relationships. This was his bauble and he was perfectly… content with it. That is, until it hadn’t been smashed to pieces because something happened to him.

Someone happened to him.

Oh fuck.

He made a desperate attempt to try and stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

His head was instantly flooded with images, followed by ubiquitous tingles that filled his body. In his mind’s eye, a face shaped instantly, the image so vivid that he was almost blinded by it. It’s as if the person was standing right in front of him. The feeling was as mesmerising as it was painful.

Damn it. She didn’t even have to be here to do things to him. To make him see things. Smell things. Hear things. Feel things.

Ethan and The Feelings. This band rarely played together. Ethan wasn’t really a team player and The Feelings were loud, untameable and too unpredictable for the likes of him. He had to learn to tolerate them, because wherever she went, they followed.

He couldn’t rid of her presence, no matter where he was or what he did. Not that he wanted to - he just couldn’t, for the love of god, comprehend all this. Having been a king of self-control and master of his own life, it was beyond Ethan’s understanding how this woman, almost a decade younger than him, managed to turn him into… well, Jenner. He’d do anything she’d ask him to do. He was an electric ride-on, the one they buy for children. And she was holding the remote.

No, this wasn’t the most fortunate comparison. Because an electric toy was not capable of feeling things. And he was. A lot. More than he ever thought possible and more than he wanted to.

The fear of being misapprehended stopped him from telling her that sometimes he hated what she was doing to him. Not her, he could never hate her. He hated this unexplainable power she had over him and wasn’t even fully aware of. It frightened him. That she clawed his composure back so easily. That her youth, enthusiasm and energy were like a tornado to the illusionary beach he used to inhabit in his head. The force of her personality wreaked havoc on the well-oiled cogs of the machine that was once his life.

It took all the strength he had to stay away, from the day he first saw her. No, that’s not right. From the first time he felt her. Ethan’s mind was definitely against him today, because the images materialised within seconds, before he even managed to fully accept the presence of the thought.

He was sitting in his office, wondering why the hell has he agreed to help Harper with reading pages of blabber from wannabe surgeons and doctors. They were all the same and if he got a cent for every time they got under his skin, he’d be a millionaire. But Harper was an old friend and his ex, he had a lot of respect for her. She’d just been promoted to the Chief of Medicine and although she was more than capable to do the job, he understood that transition from theatre to bureaucracy was scary and challenging for her. It was the least he could do to help and certainly a task way easier than being a shoulder to cry on.

Having gone through pages of “I wanna change the world and find a cure for cancer” he almost fell asleep on his desk. Not that there was something wrong with medical research or a quest for deeper meaning of one’s career - but what he read in those applications sounded like an extract from a beauty pageant. And, frankly, when he looked at some of the photos attached to applications, he couldn’t help but think beauty pageants were a better fit for some of these people than a hospital.

“Christ, are they giving away medical degrees for free these days?” He sighed loudly, sending another handful of pages onto the pile of would-be Grey’s as he called them, because he was more than certain that majority of these people derived their idea of work in hospital from the TV series Grey’s Anatomy. All Ethan knew was that he’s never seen anything more divorced from reality, having watched one episode after all the nurses kept chirping about Dr Derek Shepherd for a whole week.

Fully prepared for yet another disappointment, he turned the front page of next file. Looking at him was a young, beautiful woman with raven hair. Her gaze was daring and gentle at the same time. Even though it was just a photo, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she looked right through him.

Things only got better as he kept going through the next pages. Her application was a riveting read, it was honest, filled with passion and well written, all without being cliche. He saw the most incredible potential, but more importantly, he felt it. She made him feel things, even though he never met her. It was all just pouring from the pages. Ethan would always remember how excited and nervous it made him feel. He almost suffered from a head-on crash with gurney whilst running to Harper’s office, because he had to make sure that she gets the residency position in the hospital. His own feelings played no role here, she simply deserved this position and he knew Dr Emery won’t even question his judgement.

And then he met her.

To be honest, he completely forgot about the interns’ induction, he’s seen so many in his life already that he couldn’t care less. The new case Diagnostics Team took onboard was occupying him completely on that day.

Looking at it now, he couldn’t help but think of one of his favourite movies, Picnic at Hanging Rock. There was this line that he always felt drawn to, but could never fully understand:

“Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place“

He was walking down the long corridor, when he heard Danny, one of the nurses, screaming. A minute later Ethan was on his knees, next to a woman in her 50s. He figured out quite quickly what was happening to her, but if his diagnosis was correct, he was going to need some help. Having lifted his gaze, he looked for a familiar face. But there was no one around. That’s when he remembered about the stupid intern induction.

“Damn it, where are the doctors?!” - he asked out loud.

“I’m a doctor!” - responded an unfamiliar voice. Ethan turned around and saw a young woman with black hair in fresh scrubs. He never saw her before and figured she must be one of the new interns.

“You, Rookie. Come here!” - he literally wouldn’t mind if she was an actress playing a doctor, he needed an extra pair of hands. Right here, right now. She kneeled on the patient’s left side, her sight piercing him, waiting for instructions. That’s when it hit him.

It was her.

The fate didn’t spare her - Ethan knew as well as she did that having to deal with Hemothorax on your first day was a tricky business. But she was brilliant. A little nervous, yes, but brilliant.

All she needed was a push. That’s why he picked her to pieces, leaving her confused and probably upset. She will understand one day and she will be grateful.

He said what he had to say and then he just disappeared behind the corridor. He couldn’t be around her more than necessary. Because she made him feel. And this was the last thing he needed right now. Or ever.

What the hell?

Dr Ramsey shook his head and woke up from his daydream. He felt his loyal furry companion licking his hand with a pleading gaze. Suddenly, the weight of the thoughts crushed him like a tidal wave, the feeling so intense that his legs instantly turned into Jell-O, forcing him to sit down. That’s exactly what he was afraid of. The moment he’s had a minute, he immediately gave into thoughts. That’s what she was doing to him. Every part of him wanted to take an extra shift, but common sense and medical knowledge prevailed. He needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, otherwise his body would give up soon, making him no use to anyone, especially not all the patients who desperately needed him.

But he was a fool to assume this was going to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed, I tagged the accounts I follow and truly admire!): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey @incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie

[thefloorisbalaclava]

ania [pre-pragma]

ania - sorrow

pairing: frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs/drug use, angst

a/n: if you couldn’t tell from the title and the warnings, this is where we get into the start of francisco’s little problem. this is ten years ago so five years after ludus and eros.

summary: frankie wants to fight his demons but ends up taking on another instead.

pragma masterlist

TEN YEARS AGO

Frankie had only been back a handful of times since he joined the army and each time, he seemed to be growing farther apart from the woman he loved. Loves. He had to keep correcting himself—it wasn’t over so he had to stop thinking like it was.

The first time he came back to visit, they couldn’t keep off each other. They had never quite made things official, but the exclusivity was there. He didn’t want anyone else and she stayed true to him through and through. They had went hiking and camping and spent every waking moment together until he had to leave again. He remembered the way she cried and told him, again, that he’d better come back. And he did. For a little while at least.

*

The second time he came back, she had joked around with him about his new haircut and he snapped at her. Raised his voice at her. When he reached out to her to pull her into his arms, she moved away and left, telling him to come see her when he was in a better mood.

The truth was there was only one thing that had put him in a better mood. It started on one of his tours of duty. They had seized a large amount of cocaine from some drug lord and the some of the guys began joking around about it and telling stories.

“You guys ever try it?” one of them asked.

“Nah, man. Are you crazy?” Frankie shook his head and tried to talk them out of it as they each took a bit. He swore to himself that he would never get involved. But then be kept seeing her face. That should bring him comfort, but it only made him sad and angry that he was in this shithole and not with her. He told himself that he just wanted to forget. Just a little to forget, he lied.

He wasn’t a fucking addict. He only did it to take the edge off—for emergencies. He wasn’t as bad as the other guys. At least he didn’t think so.

Until that night Pope had to punch him to snap him out of whatever weird mindset he was in. His best friend, his brother, stood over him shaking his head and pointing angrily.

“Get your shit together, Cat,” Pope hissed then stormed away leaving Frankie on the ground with a bloody nose.

This time when he took some, he told himself it was for the pain.

He wasn’t an addict.

*

The third time he came home, she seemed to distance herself even more. She never knew when he would snap and she knew something was wrong with him, but she wouldn’t ask.

He went to her place and was surprised when she let him in.

“What’s wrong with you, Frankie?” she asked. He wanted to tell her everything, but there was already so much pain in her eyes. He refused to cause more.

“I’m tired,” he said, “So fucking tired.” He broke down, falling to his knees and putting his head in her lap.

“Is there more?” she asked. His brain screamed at him to tell her, but when he looked up into her eyes all he could do was cry again. “Frankie…”

“I can’t tell you.”

“But…I want to help.” Tears filled her eyes. “You’re suffering and I want to help.”

“You can’t help me. No one can.”

He eventually got himself together and stood up, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat.

“No one can,” he repeated before leaving without so much as a goodbye.

*

The fourth time he visited home, he hadn’t even told her he was coming. Santiago had to tell her and he was afraid that he had told her more. Everything.

“Tell me you didn’t tell her, Pope.” Frankie had his best friend hemmed up by his shirt against the wall. “Tell me.” He sniffled but it wasn’t because of a runny nose.

“Look at you, man.” Pope shoved Frankie away. “I didn’t fucking tell her, but maybe I should.”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Then you do it! She’s suffering and it’s all because she loves you! You barely talk to her anymore. She’s hurt, do you understand that? You’re hurting her.” Pope was angry. Frankie couldn’t remember a time he had seen his best friend so upset. “Most people would kill to be loved the way she loves you but you’re just throwing it away.”

“I don’t…deserve her,” Frankie cried. “Can’t you see that?”

“Stop the drugs. Stop the bullshit! This ain’t you, Frankie!” Pope snapped. “I’m watching my best friend kill himself and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Frankie tried to speak again but Santiago held his hand up and walked away.

*

The fifth time, he stood in front of her. Neither of them had spoken a word for he didn’t know how long. They just stood there. She sniffled every now and then and he did too, but for all the wrong reasons.

“Is there something you need to tell me before you go?” she asked.

Yes! his heard screamed. Please help me! Please save me!

“I’m…gonna miss you…” He sighed and looked down.

“Right.” She turned away from him. “I don’t know if I should waste my time missing you, Francisco. What good has it done me? I feel like I’m losing a little part of you each time…”

“I’m…lost,” he admitted.

“No shit, but I’d wish you tell me why. I want to know what’s happening to you. Maybe Santi will tell me.” She hugged herself, still unable to look at him.

“Look at me. Please?” he begged. He only felt like he existed when she looked at him. He mattered when she looked at him.

“I want my Frankie back,” she sobbed. “Is there someone else?” The way she asked sounded like she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Never. There will never be anyone else for me.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong?!” she shouted, turning to him angrily. He was certain she was going to slap him when she stormed up to him, but she reached out slowly and touched his face. His eyes closed and he whimpered. “Please…Frankie.”

“I can’t.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his face. And when she kissed him, he almost pulled away. He didn’t deserve that kiss or any of the ones she gave him before. He had become tarnished, a lesser version of what he was.

But her kiss made him feel again. It made him feel that maybe, just maybe, he could be that guy again. He could be her Frankie again. His eyes opened as they kissed and he watched just how much of herself she put into the kiss. She was losing herself in him…for him. He couldn’t let that happen.

He pulled away and her eyes opened slowly. “Why?” she asked.

“I’ll be better next time,” he said. “I’ll be myself again. I promise.”

“Don’t go,” she begged, grabbing his hand. “Don’t. We’ll just go. We’ll leave the country…go on an adventure. No one ever has to find us.”

“Cariño…” He sniffled again and this time it was because he had started to cry.

“I can’t lose you…”

“I’m not gonna die,” he said.

“I don’t mean like that…” Her words hung in the air. “Losing you this way hurts way more than losing you if you die…that slow, agonizing fade…it hurts more.”

What hurt the most was that she was right. He was dying slowly, losing a bit of himself each time he decided he needed that extra something. A bullet would be faster. He stared at her as he thought about it.

No. Never that. Not when there was a glimmer of hope still left in her eyes.

“Let’s just…go,” she repeated. “Please.”

“You know I can’t.” No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t. The day would come when he would spend the rest of his life with her, but it just wasn’t right now.

How much of his life was actually left?

“Well, can you promise me you’ll come back?” she asked desperately. She held his hands, anchoring to the earth, to her, to the only happiness he had left.

“I’ll come back but…I’m not sure how much of me I will be.” Was that his way of telling her that everything had gone completely wrong?

Tell her about the drugs…

“What are you not telling me?” She let go of his hands. “Please stop hiding things from me, Frankie.”

“You wanna know the moment I knew my heart was yours?” He didn’t know why he needed to tell her this now, but it was as good a time as any. “High school. We were all hanging out after school like we usually did, but we had spent most of the time just talking to each other. The streetlights had started to come on so you had to go. You said your goodbyes and as you were walking away, you turned back and smiled at me. Everything started moving in slow motion and life as I knew it was over. That’s when I knew.”

“Because I looked back?”

“Because you looked at me. Because you smiled at me. I only matter when you notice me.” He took her hands again. “When I’m away, you’re not there to look at me…”

“So, you think you don’t matter?” she asked and he nodded. “Of course you do. You always do.”

“I just need…” He hugged her hard. He held her like he’d never see her again.

“Just give me the word and we’ll go,” she said. He could hear a smile in her voice.

“I wish, babe. I wish.” He pulled away but held her face in his hands. “When I get out, we’ll go. No one will ever see us again.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah. I promise,” he said though he had that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Guess I should let you go now, soldier.”

“I’m Frankie with you. Just Frankie.” He didn’t want to say goodbye yet, but the streetlights were on. He smiled at the connection. “Oh…look!” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the cap she gave him then put it on.

“Handsome.” She pulled on the bill of the cap and smiled. “I’ll see you next time, Frankie.”

“Yeah…and I’ll be better.” He would repeat it until he believed it.

“I can’t say the word so…just…” She kissed him goodbye instead then pulled away with a small sob. She walked and walked.

“Look back,” he whispered. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but maybe, just maybe she could sense it. “Turn around, baby.” And just like before, everything slowed down and she looked back. She smiled then turned away again. He watched until he couldn’t see her anymore. The feeling of hope he’d had faded away as she did. He made her a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep and it felt worse than committing a sin against God himself.

I’ll be better. It became his mantra. Maybe if he said and thought it enough it would come true.

Something deep down told him the world had other plans for him though.

pragma taglist: @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels @javier-djarin @longitud-de-onda @dirty-dancefl00r5

permanent taglist: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @tiffdawg @smartsexycalmreflective @cryptkeepersoul @heresathreebee @jawabear @opheliaelysia @huliabitch @cable-kenobi

[green-g3ck0]

[[TW- death// schlatt// heavy angst]]

<<Characters: Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Schlatt, Dream>>

The young man walked towards the broken down house. His mind raced with memories, a cold wave hitting him.

He kicked a few shambles, it breaking more and dust forming. He looked up and touched the rusty frame of the house, tracing the dents made from past wars.

He sighed and walked in, remembering what he came for. But he still had time to look around and remember more.

He hummed a small tune, not remembering the lyrics, but still stuck in his mind. He opened a large chest and rummaged through many items, much being cobble and dirt. When finding nothing, he closed the chest and moved on.

He opened empty furnaces, taking the left coal to use later, and any other items possibly left for storage.

He glanced at the E-chest and paused. He knew what he was looking for would be in there. He looked outside to the darkening sky and sighed.

He opened the chest and grabbed the disk, fiddling with it slightly. He closed the chest after keeping a few other items and walked out, looking for the familiar jukebox.

He sat down and plopped the disk in, feeling a familiar physical chill, but his mind and heart felt warmer.

As the song played, and the sun set, his mind drifted, and the familiar song made a smile appear on his face.

“Ya know Tubbo, Dream was trying to get this disc out of me- like- it hold some importance to him or something!” The blond commented.

The brunette laughed slightly and turned to the other. “Not to him! It’s important to us though, right Tommy?”

Said boy nodded. “It’s very important Tubbo- this- this land is important! We worked hard for this land and we will make sure we get our freedom! Even if it kills us!” He proudly exclaimed.

Tubbo sighed, growing a bit nervous. “W-Well- hopefully it doesn’t kill us- but yea! This is our land!” He joined the blond beside him, the two watching the sunset while the song played.

He sighed, kicking his feet a bit. The plan never stuck. While they kept their land, they lost it the next couple weeks after the election. He remembered how before the election, he told his friend about an escape tunnel and bunker just in case. Thank god.

“C’mere, cmere-“ he coaxed his friend. The blond followed and was led to an underground shelter. “I made this just in case something goes wrong. Hopefully nothing does, but just in case.”

He sighed heavily and nodded. “Thank you Tubbo. We might need this. Good planning by the way-“

Tubbo thanked the running Vice President and they made it back up to the surface, waiting for the election to be held.

And thank god he did that. His friends didn’t win, and unfortunately lost to a dictator. Every other day the two met in the paths connecting the country to the banished land.

He looked down at his feet, tracing the wood. He remembered the last time him and his friend spoke here.

“Tubbo- we could run away. We could run and forget it all. Forget Pogtopia, forget Manburg- we could live happily by ourselves and not be harmed.” Tommy told his British friend.

He responded first with a nod. “We could. We could take a few items- the discs, armor, tools, food- and run. Away from Schlatt, away from war..”

The boys looked at each other in regret. “Tubbo we can’t. We can’t leave just yet- it’s too dangerous.”

Tubbo agreed and sat up, dusting himself off, Tommy doing the same. They both agreed it was a bad plan and it needed to at least be thought of more before even considering.

And it was never considered again.

The last time the boys were on a team together was on their death beds. One more fortunate than the other.

Tubbo remembered being put in the box- this time not as funny. His president- the one he thought was warming up- put him in danger. He made him dress up and decorate his own funeral.

“Techno get up here!”

The two stared at each other, knowing what was about to happen. His friends whispered to him saying to trust the process, he’ll be fine.

He wasn’t fine. No one was. Blade won a 1v20, and few were happy.

“You killed Tubbo!” His friend yelled at the arsonist.

“I was peer pressured!” He argued.

Tubbo watched his friends argue, Tommy arguing heavily that what Techno did was wrong. Neither were right, nor wrong.

Tommy and Tubbo both knew that with Wilbur not following through with his plan, everyone’s days were numbered.

At least Tubbo made it out alive under someone’s shitty plans.

He felt a tear slip down his face as he remembered the last few moments with his friend.

The song was playing on the jukebox. But a certain someone wasn’t getting their way, and was pissed.

“So- this- this is your place? This shithole-“

“Leave Tommy and Tubbo alone!” Wilbur yelled at the former president.

The latter of the mentioned boys was behind the other. Tommy protected Tubbo with his life, which was being threatened by a crossbow to the head.

“You shitheads are the reason my country is the fucked up place it is! And someone will pay!” Schlatt yelled.

“Then shoot me!” “Then shoot him!” Wilbur yelled back as Tommy overlapped his voice, pointing at the other culprit.

The American chuckled sinisterly. “If I can have Manburg than no one can-“ he mocked Wilbur. “-oh bitch bitch bitch. No matter what- no one got Manburg. No matter what you did, my country suffered because of your dumbass. And because of that..” he slowly turned to face the young boys. “Someone. Someone will pay. “ he growled.

Tubbo tensed as he saw Tommy sigh shakily. “C-Can I at least get final words? Can you be that nice?”

Schlatt rolled his eyes. “Fine. Say your last words or forever hold your peace or something-“ he then coughed heavily and complained about the air.

Tommy then turned to Tubbo. “Tubbo listen- whether I make it alive or not- you have the discs. Find them, and remember me. Remember us. Remember what we did for L’Manburg. Remember our promises. Remember all those times I tried to stay by your side, even though we were on opposite teams. I’m sorry for anything I couldn’t accomplish. I wish I could’ve been a better older brother figure to you Tubbo. But through it all, be the man I wish I could’ve been. Even in spirit, I will still be by your side.”

Tommy smiled and hugged Tubbo tightly. The smaller Brit cried in his friends shoulder after his words.

A yawn was heard behind them. “Ya two done yet?!” Tommy sighed heavily and separated from the hug, ruffling Tubbos hair.

“Not yet.” Tommy then ran over and decked Wilbur, shouting many profanities that shocked all parties.

Once done, he walked back over to Tubbo and gave him one last hug before walking into an enclosed area. “Now. Now I’m ready.”

There was a click and a ping before suffering was heard. Schlatt sighed and looked at the other kid. “Go away now or you’re next.” Tense, he listened and ran towards the surface.

Tubbo could feel the hot tears down his face as he heard the song ending. He remembered all of it.

“I remember Tommy.. don’t you worry. I miss you...”

“Tubbo..?” A voice called.

He jumped and turned towards the sound, seeing the owner and calming down.

“O-oh hey dream! Uh- how are you? What’s up?” He quickly wiped his tears, trying- and failing- to seem okay.

“Tubbo.. I mean- I’m alright.. what’s up with you..? If you wanna talk about it- that is..” the man replied.

He couldn’t stop the tears this time. His body shook as he cried harder, remembering his counterpart.

Dream walked over and engulfed Tubbo in a hug, hushing him and trying to comfort him any way he can.

They eventually got to the point that sitting in the grass was a better option. The older one rubbed circles on the crying boys back, sitting quietly, knowing how rough Tommy’s passing was.

Nothing can change what Tubbo saw when he went back down to see the damage. Nothing can change the figure he saw. Nothing can change the fact that he clutched the cold body that was alive a week prior.

Nothing can change the fact that the bastard he used to call president was still walking around, knowing what he did and proud as hell.

Nothing can change the fact that Tubbo sat and cried- he hasn’t stopped crying- for the past months after the event.

Nothing has changed the nightmares when he slept. And nothing changed the fact that he was now ripped from his other half. His partner in crime. The only other person who he trusted more than anyone in the world.

Nothing changed the fact that since he left that broken down shamble, the ravine his friends called home, he has not stopped feeling a cold wave by his side.

The cold wave came when he slept, when he cried so many tears into his pillows. It was right there on his arm and back, on his cheek, bringing a sense of comfort.

The cold wave was there when he sat on the bench, remembering his friend and all the good and bad memories.

And even now, still holding his arm and on his head, every so often wiping his tears, or trying.

He sniffed. “D-Do you feel the cold too?” He asked the owner holding him.

“I do Tubbo. Maybe it’s Tommy. Ghosts and spirits tend to be a colder presence if near. So maybe he’s here to comfort you.” Dream smiled softly.

The boy trembled harder, taking his words into consideration- almost working. “I-It can’t be. N-Nothing can b-bring Tommy... bring Tommy back..”

//Hi I just wanted to write angst I’m sorry :)//

[simsadventures]

First Love

High School Dean x High School! Plus size! Reader

Summary: Dean is the mysterious and sexy boy of your high school. And you’re just, you. But what if the playboy’s eyes shine only for you? Can you trust him?

Warnings: High School AU, fluff, slight angst, mentions of bullying, smut, protected sex, car sex (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS)

Word Count: 3679

A/N: Both Dean and the reader are 18 for the sake of this story, so there is no underage sex nor anything like that (even though in most European countries the age of consent is around 15, I didn’t want to make anybody uncomfortable). Also changed the request slightly, because I didn’t think she would let him have her virginity just like that, so they both have some, although limited, experience.

This story was requested by my sweet @prettysourabbie, and I hope both she and you guys will enjoy this fluffy smuttiness. FEEDBACK is gold, you know the drill. Thank you for reading! xx Full request here: Hey beautiful! I saw that you have open request! Yayyy you are a bop of a writer! Can I request a High school Dean Winchester x high school plus size reader, where the reader is Garth younger sister and she really quirky and shy and dean starts catching feelings and takes her on a date and takes her virginity?? Fluff, smut, dorkyness haha I’m sorry this is so awkward turtle! ☺️💕🤘🏻

Dean Winchester Masterlist __ Masterlist

You heard whistles from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother to turn around. You knew the drill. Whenever somebody catcalled or whistled near you, it was never actually at you. It was either at one of your hot friends or some random chick walking down the corridors or streets. Not that you specifically minded. You weren’t a pet to come when somebody whistled. But, you thought, it would be nice if somebody actually found you attractive enough to show it.

Your ex-boyfriend, Max, was a great guy behind closed doors, he would adore you, braid your hair, play games with you, and such, but as soon as his friends were around him, he would act as if he didn’t know you. It broke your heart, and after a few weeks of suffering, you ended things with him.

Max acted all surprised, telling you that you were the best girl he’s met, but that was until one of his best friends called at him in front of the school, and Max ran towards them as if he wasn’t in the middle of a sentence. You knew you were better off without him, but it still stung.

The whistles could be heard again, and you sighed in frustration. You turned around from the book you were just reading, The Rise of Silas Lapham by William Dean Howells, and looked at the boy who was whistling like crazy.

Dean fracking Winchester.

He had a smirk plastered on his face, and when you finally turned around to face him, he wiggled his eyebrows and sent you an air-kiss. You looked around yourself, confused because Dean Winchester couldn’t be doing this at you. No fucking way.

But when you saw there was no girl in a 3-meter radius, you turned back at him, your brows high up on your forehead.

“That some kind of bet?” You hissed at him, not really wanting the other students around you to hear your conversation. You didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the whole school. Again.

It was Dean’s turn to raise a brow.

“A bet, what are you getting at, doll? I thought you looked cute so I whistled. Easy as that,” Dean shrugged, and you rolled your eyes at him, before you shut your book with a thud, swiftly put it in your bag and walked towards Dean.

“First of all, catcalling doesn’t work on anyone, so you should maybe get up next time and actually tell a girl you like her. And secondly, we both know that a boy like you would never be interested in a girl like me, so stop pretending and stop being a dick. T’was nice talking to you, Dean, see you at class,” you mumbled as you stormed out of the study room.

Dean watched you leave, confused as hell as to why you’d think he was joking or playing some kind of games. You were the most real person at the school, and beautiful on top of that. Well, if catcalling wasn’t enough, Dean promised himself to think of something better to let you know just how interested in you he really was.

—-

Coming home, you slammed the door and huffed out a breath, falling on the nearest chair. You brother came out of his room hearing somebody was home, and when he saw you, he frowned.

“What happened to you?” Garth asked, worriedly watching your face.

“Nothing, it’s just… Why did nature give you such metabolism that you can eat a fucking country, and you still won’t gain an ounce, while I look at a pizza and I’m five pounds heavier? It’s just not fair, that’s all I’m saying. Maybe if I was thinner, boys would actually be interested in me and not just as a part of a bet,” you murmured under your breath, keeping your gaze glued to the pillow on your chest.

“Some fucker is playing games with you? Tell me which and I’ll beat the shit out of him, that’s why I’m your big bro!” Garth almost shouted, and you had to smile a little. He would always protect you, even though you were pretty sure you would be more successful in taking somebody down than Garth.

You still smiled up at your big brother and shook your head at him.

“I’m fine, Garth, trust me. Just a few more months and then I’m outta here. Brown is waiting and with that lots of new opportunities. I won’t have to hide anymore, because I’ll find real friends there, some that won’t judge me because I read too much or because I’m sometimes emotionally unavailable. Or because they think I’m fat. None of this will matter, and I seriously cannot wait to get out of this shithole and get the party started,” you laughed, and Garth joined you, sitting on the arm of the chair, kissing your hair.

“You’ll do great there, Y/N. And you’re not fat, you’re a woman. You know, I think the world needs more girls like you, not starving themselves just for some boys to like them. You are you, and I love you for it, and soon, there will be a guy who will love you unconditionally, I promise you that,” he whispered against the crown of your head and walked out fo the living room back to his den.

You sighed and stood up, walking towards the mirror on the wall, staring at yourself. You could see a lot of imperfections, sure, but you also saw a beautiful human being, and you knew that while here, at the small town high-school in the middle of Kansas, you were misplaced entirely, you would fit right in Rhode Island.

—-

Next day at school was going typically, you were smart in classes and alone in the hallways right to the lunch, where you once again sat by yourself. But you didn’t mind it, you could at least read your book and not be bothered by some petty drama, like which pink was more pink of the two pinks. You couldn’t roll your eyes harder even if you tried, hearing that conversation coming from behind you.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in front of you, and while you didn’t really care what happened, you still looked up aware that if somebody was fighting (which was very likely, considering the amount of testosterone coursing the young men blood systems) you wanted to be as far away as possible from that.

But looking up, you saw Dean Winchester, standing on one of the tables, looking around the room frantically, trying to find somebody. And then his eyes landed on you. He smirked and yelled.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I tried to do this yesterday, but you are one tough cookie, doll. So here I am, making a fool of myself in front of pretty much the whole school by yelling uncontrollably at somebody who is sooo not interested in me, but I gotta try anyway. Would you please, please go on a date with me? And before you say no, I just wanna warn you that I’m gonna stand here and yell until you actually agree on going out with me, so, please? Pretty please? Prettiest please?-“

You were pretty sure even your ass was red from the embarrassment, and to spare you at least some dignity, you just yelled a quick yes for god’s sake, and ran away from the room. What the hell was he thinking?

You got your answer pretty soon, because Dean followed you out of there, yelling your name as he ran.

“What?” You snapped at him when you were far enough from the canteen.

“Why do you keep doing this? I just wanna go out with you and spend some time with the most interesting girl in the whole town. Why do you keep pushing me away, Y/N?” Dean asked, and for a moment, you really believed the words he said. But then you remembered that while you were the one people laughed at, Dean was one of the most popular boys at school, with his charming smile and mysterious green eyes.

“Because I know you are making fun of me, Dean. Look, I know that a guy like you would never be interested in somebody like me, so I really don’t get what you’re getting out of this, you know?” You mumbled as you bit your lip, a habit you had whenever you were nervous.

Dean didn’t answer you, and when you looked at him, you saw him staring at your lip, licking his instinctively. Without another word, he swiped his thumb along your lips and freed the one you were biting, before he leaned in, and kissed you.

Your first reaction was to push him away, but the way his lips felt against yours, the velvety touch of skin on skin, and his hand finding its way to your waist, you couldn’t move. And a small part of you didn’t really want to walk away from that.

He didn’t deepen the kiss, he just stood there, kissing you, until you both needed some air.

You could feel yourself blushing, and before you knew it, you were biting your lips again. You could hear Dean growl before he whispered,

“If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, doll.”

You gasped looking deep into his eyes, and he leaned in again, this time only kissing your cheek before he gave you one of his famous smiles.

“I’ll pick you up at 7, alright, pretty girl?”

All you could do was nod, and he didn’t push you to talk, probably because he knew what effect he had on girls. You always heard from your classmates how he made them swoon, and until now, you didn’t really understand why. Sure, he was a pretty boy, but damn those lips, they were to die for.

The evening couldn’t come soon enough.

—-

While there was still a nagging voice in your mind, that Dean wasn’t in it honestly, you tried to look your prettiest just in case he actually did mean it. You wore light flowery dress reaching above your knees, you curled your hair and even applied some make-up to look presentable. You checked yourself in a mirror, and even you had to say you didn’t look the worst.

Garth has been fretting like a mama bear since both your parents were out of time and this was officially your first date after your break-up with Max. He assured you like a million times that you looked lovely and that any guy would be lucky to have you.

When you heard a knock on the door, you wanted to go and open, but Garth was faster. He skipped through the living room to let Dean in, giving him the “big brother speech”. You rolled your eyes at that because seeing that even though 2 years younger, Dean was indisputably stronger than your brother. Hell, even a 5-year old girl was probably stronger than your brother.

But Dean listened to Garth carefully, and when Garth hissed something to Dean’s ear, you could even see Dean’s eyes going a little wider and him nodding in understanding at your brother. That made you chuckle and to spare Dean any other trauma, you pulled him out of the house, yelling at Garth that you’d probably be late.

Dean grabbed your hand in his and pulled you towards a classic-looking car, all shiny and polished.

“This is my Baby, well, technically, it’s my father’s, but he promised that the second he gets a new car, Baby will be mine, so…”

You squeezed his hand, still looking at Baby.

“Well, she’s a beaut, I totally get why you wanna keep her,” you said admiring his car. In return, Dean admired you.

“Do you know that you’re the first girl who actually likes her? All the other girls always tell me that I should get something nicer and more out of this time. I knew you were special, Y/N,” he smirked at you before opening the door for you to get in.

The night was beautiful, and the more time the two of you spent together, the more things in common you found. Despite Dean acting like a tough guy at school, he was a dork, in reality. A huge dork at that. He would tell you dad jokes until your stomach hurt, he would tell you all about his favourite rock bands, the majority of which you’ve never even heard, singing you his favourite bits.

In return, you talked to him about your favourite things, such as reading and writing, your slight obsession with Disney and Marvel, which he said he totally understood and told you that your second date would be a movie marathon.

It was well after all that that he asked you something personal.

“Why did you think I was making fun of you, Y/N? I just can’t understand that. You’re so beautiful, and I honestly thought you were out of my league, that’s why I never asked you out. You’re so damn smart, hella funny, and so hot that I have hard times not creaming my pants just looking at you in that dress. I just, is somebody making fun of you, or something?” He sounded so genuine, and his voice was so broken that you had to smile at him.

You caressed his cheek before you kissed his cheek.

“I thought you were out of my league, you know? And yeah, I’ve been having some issues with the barbies of the school, but nothing I can’t handle. I just thought it was another of their stupid jokes on me, you know? But getting to know you, I really misjudged you, Dean, and I’m sorry for that,” you whispered to his ear, and he visibly shuddered.

You bit your lip and looked at him, this time doing it 100% on purpose. And the reaction you wanted to see came very soon.

Dean almost leapt out of his own seat in Baby, capturing your lips with his, kissing you senseless. You could feel his hand on your naked leg, just being there and massaging little circles into your skin.

He deepened the kiss, not giving you the chance to get away from him even if you wanted. And you enjoyed every second of his dominant personality.

You grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

When you both felt the need to breathe again, he only pulled an inch away from you, looking you deep in the eyes.

You could see it all in them. He looked at you like you were the only girl in this universe, and you believed him. You wanted him just as much as his lusty eyes wanted you.

You surprised him when you climbed out of your seat and opened the door to the backseat, laying on your back, and biting your lip, inviting Dean to join you.

His surprise didn’t last long, though. He couldn’t miss such an opportunity with the girl of his dreams, and he was glad there was a box of condoms hidden in the car. Not that he had that much experience, but his father made it very clear when Dean became 16, that a boy always needs condoms, just in case.

He jumped in the backseat behind you, his body laying on top of yours, and he claimed your lips again. There was more urgency this time, and while he was laying on top of you, trying to not crush you with this weight, you tugged at his clothes to finally get him naked.

It wasn’t like you’ve had too much experience in that area, but you knew what your body wanted, and you wouldn’t deprive it anymore. Not with Dean’s presence overwhelming your every sense.

He got the message, and so he was soon without a shirt, with his jeans around his ankles. He rolled your dress high, but before he could get past your stomach, you stopped his hand. He looked at you quizzically raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe, I should just leave the dress on tonight? You know, we don’t have to lose time by me getting all the way naked, and all,” you said, not looking at Dean.

He frowned at you before he took your chin between his fingers and he turned your head to face him.

“Don’t hide from me, Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna prove it to you. And not only tonight. I wish our first time wasn’t in a car, because I can’t show you just how much I appreciate you and your body here, but I promise, next time I’ll devour all of your like I should because you’re the best girl. My girl,” Dean husked and bit your shoulder to prove his point.

And you didn’t protest anymore because his honest eyes wouldn’t let you.

Warnings: smut starting

Your dress went flying to the front of the car, just like your bra and your panties, and although you had the need to hide from Dean’s prying eyes, you didn’t want to ruin the moment. So you just laid there, palming his growing erection, and when you thought it couldn’t get any hotter, Dean dived in on your chest, sucking one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning as he went.

You arched your back, the pleasure overwhelming you, especially when you felt his right hand travelling further down your body until he found your wet core. He groaned at the feeling of your slick on his fingers, and he started to tease your clit, preparing you for him.

You managed to pull his member out of his boxer-briefs, gasping at the girth of him. Where you thought Max was pretty well equipped, Dean was packing, a lot. It was like comparing a sausage with an arm. For a second, you were worried how he’d even fit, but the longer he played with your pussy, the fewer worries you had. Your brain was turning into mush, and you were enjoying every second of it.  

Dean’s fingers pushed inside you, and you breathed out a low moan. Dean was breathing heavily, your soft hand on your dick was not helping his current situation. When you squeezed him especially hard, he moaned and bit your neck, licking it after, and sucking a hickey there, to show everybody you were his. Because there was no way in hell, he would let you get away after this.

“You want this, sweetheart? We can stop right now, no shame in that. I want you to feel comfortable with me,” Dean said breathily, and ceased his movement for a second.

But your hooded eyes with blown pupils and your puffed out lips were telling him all he needed to know.

“I know we can, but I really don’t wanna stop, Dean. Unless, of course, you want to stop, and in that case we totally can, no pressure,” you smiled at him sweetly, and he kissed you again, unable to keep to himself.

He didn’t say anything but rummaged the front seat before pulling a silver package in his hand, tearing it apart and getting the rubber on himself.

He looked at you once again, and you nodded, wordlessly, just wanting to feel him, finally.

He teased you for a moment, gathering the slick escaping your core before he slowly pushed in, letting you breathe out the slight discomfort of having somebody so think inside you. Once he was bottomed out, he waited before you raised your hips, signalling you were ready for a movement. And Dean obediently listened.

He withdrew from you before thrusting in again, repeating this motion before you were trembling underneath him. But it was a skilled slick of your clit that sent you over the edge, crying out his name loudly, your eyes squeezed shut.

Dean knew he would never see anything as pretty as you coming on his cock. And it was this sight in combination with your tight pussy that was his undoing. He came with a grunt, spilling inside the condom, and letting his sweaty forehead lean against yours.

Warning ending

“Well, that was something else, Y/N. How are you feeling?” Dean asked attentively, laying down next to you, cuddling you from behind.

“I couldn’t be better, Dean. Thank you for tonight, it is a night to remember,” you whispered, snuggling closer to his firm chest.

—

You woke up to the sound of four feet fluttering on the wooden floor of your bedroom. You could hear your husband’s heavy breathing, so you knew he was still deep asleep, and when you opened your eyes, you could see your 5-year old son and your 3-year old daughter staring back at you, mischievous grins plastered on their faces.

You smirked at them, and that was their undoing. They both squealed loudly, jumping on your bed and effectively waking their dad up.

“What are you doing here, you little monsters?” he rasped, catching his daughter in his arms and tickling her until she was screaming for mercy.

You laughed at their antiques and the way your son tried to save his little sister from the tickle monster.

“What are you laughing at, pretty lady? You think the tickle monster can’t get you too?” your husband asked you, and your children stopped what they were doing, looking at you, before they both jumped at you, while their father tickled the hell out of you.

“Stoooop, please,” you yelled, trying to shimmy out of bed.

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily, m’lady. I told you on that first date that you were mine, and there is no way I’m letting you go,” Dean rasped at you, and while you were still laughing, you shook your head at your husband.

He promised to show you why he thought you were the best girl, and he has been doing that for the past 12 years. Your first love was indeed the best love.

Supernatural Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @defenderrosetyler​

Dean Taglist

@team-free-will-you-idjiot​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​ @rinkashirikitateku​

[barrysjumpsuit]

blindsided - barry’s sister x rafe cameron (ch. 3)

part one, part two, masterlist

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cannabis use, cocaine use, physical and verbal abuse, underage drinking, anxiety/depression, mentions of sex, the whole nine yards tbh

synposis:  christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: things are starting to get good... I’m super excited to write the rest of this! got some wild shit coming up. read this for SOFT RAFE. (side note, the necklace part is 100% a marie thing that i do and wear. i studied moon snail predation on clams so HMU if you wanna learn abt the ecology of the long island sound) (also in this house we stan naturdays)

----

Rafe had listened to Christy’s begging when she was saying she wanted to go to the Boneyard separately from Topper and Sarah. They slipped out before the others were done getting ready, but Christy still couldn’t bring herself to relax. 

Her boyfriend was on edge too. They were silent as they drove south, Rafe eventually pulling off the road as they reached the trailer. Barry’s bike was gone from where it usually sat, and Christy was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. 

Rafe followed her into the trailer. It was weird seeing Rafe Cameron, so well put together, in her shithole of a home. He knew better to comment on the state of things, and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

“Come on and help me,” Christy said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall to her bedroom. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside before closing it. “You know how to pack cigarette joints?” 

“Can’t be too hard,” he said. Christy pulled out a mason jar of bud from her last harvest, along with two paper plates she kept for this exact purpose. 

“We’ll do all of them,” she said. “I have a couple already made.” 

Christy sat down on the bed next to Rafe. Their knees touched, the jar between them. She busied herself grinding the nugs, picking out the stems while Rafe started emptying the cigarettes of their contents. 

“You know,” Rafe said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve never smoked weed.” 

“Really?” Christy asked. She was genuinely surprised. “Y’know, they say it’s the gateway drug, and…” 

“Yeah, I went straight to the hard stuff,” Rafe said quietly. “It’s more of a… pogue thing.” 

“What, so we’re stereotyping drugs now? I’ve seen you drink Natty Light. That’s as pogue as alcohol gets.”

“Naturdays!” Rafe protested.

“As if that makes it any different.” Christy grinned and tapped the grinder to the paper plate that sat in Rafe’s lap. “You want to try?” 

Rafe nodded, and Christy looked up at him. There was something soft about him now, sitting in her bed in her shitty trailer. He hadn’t said anything about her living situation like he normally would. He hadn’t refused to help her. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Christy said quietly. He looked up at her, smiling softly. “We can wait until we’re there or until we leave. It’s up to you.” 

“What will it feel like?” he asked. 

“You really are clueless. We’ll wait until we’re away from the party, okay? This strain chills you the fuck out. It’s the only way I can sleep most nights.” 

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t know that. You always seem to fall asleep pretty easily.” 

Christy bit her bottom lip before answering, focusing on twisting her grinder. “It’s because I feel comfortable with you.” 

Rafe’s hand was suddenly cupping her cheek. He had moved the plate and his in-progress work to the bedspread and was leaning forward, perched on his knees. “Christy…” he murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to hers. “Really? You mean that?” 

“Yes,” was all she could say. She could smell his breath, his deodorant, his cologne. 

“You mean the world to me,” Rafe purred, moving his hand so it rested on the nape of her skull. “I love you so much. I’m glad we found each other.” 

“Me too,” Christy whispered, and Rafe’s lips were on hers. They were gentle, patient, and tender. The kiss made her feel safe, reciprocating what she had just confessed to him. 

Normally, Christy had a tough exterior. She was closed and blunt. People knew her for that, and even Barry commented on it. She didn’t know why Rafe of all people unlocked her as if he had a key, melting her heart and opening her up. It was true: she usually smoked herself to sleep every night. If she didn’t she would toss and turn into the early hours of the morning, and by then she would give up and go for a run or boat ride. Whenever she spent the night with Rafe, tucked into his bed and in his arms, her brain stopped worrying. It stopped running through endless scenarios, and she slept. 

Rafe was the one to pull away. He smiled gently at her. Some of his hair fell over his eyes, so Christy reached up to tuck it back where it belonged. “I love you, Rafe Cameron.” 

“I love you too, Christy,” he murmured back, kissing her once more on the forehead before sitting back down on the bed and picking up the paper plate again. 

The two of them packed a cigarette carton full of joints in half an hour. Before they left, she pocketed her bowl, a couple baggies with nugs, and JJ’s five grams. 

“This is a cute picture,” Rafe said as Christy stowed the last of the bud underneath her bed. They had used half of it prepping for the kegger. She looked up to the picture frame he was holding. 

The photo was of her and Barry. They were younger – Christy was fifteen and Barry was nineteen – and on the boat. They were holding a fish, a huge striped bass they had hauled in on light tackle. A shadow was cast over a corner of the picture, and Christy’s heart twisted. 

“You okay?” Rafe asked, and she just nodded. “What is it?” 

“My mom took the picture,” Christy said quietly, taking the frame from him. “This was one of the last memories I have of her before she killed herself. Like a week later.” 

“Oh baby…” Rafe put an arm around her, kissing the top of her head, and she leaned into him before putting the picture frame back on her dresser, face down. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Christy suggested, and she gently pushed Rafe out of her bedroom. She turned and relocked the door before pocketing the keys and walking down the hall. 

“Look who we have here! Rafe Cameron!” 

Christy froze at Barry’s voice. Rafe’s hand tightened around hers, to a point where it was almost painful. Barry was sitting on the couch in front of the coffee table, and she could tell he just did a line.

“You just can’t stay away, can you, boy?” Barry said, standing and sauntering over to them. Christy tried to push Rafe behind her, but he refused to budge. “You fucking my sister again? We’re going to have words.” 

“Barry, stop it!” Christy put her hands on Barry’s chest and shoved him, but he barely moved. “We’re together, okay? We were just stopping by to get some weed to sell.” 

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” Barry asked, dangling a baggie of cocaine in front of Rafe’s face. Christy could tell he was bristling with anger and doing everything he could to restrain himself from swinging a fist. “Right here, Country Club. She’s got your name on it. I miss your business, you know.” 

“Barry that’s enough!” Christy yelled, shoving herself between the two of them. “Rafe, let’s go.” She tugged on his hand, but Rafe remained rooted to the dirty carpet of the living room. 

Rafe didn’t say anything. He and Barry stood, staring at each other, both of them seething with anger. 

“I don’t want your fucking blow,” he finally said, turning, and storming from the trailer. 

“You’ve got yourself a keeper there, Chris,” Barry said, swinging the baggie. “A real winner.” 

“Fuck you, Barry!” Rafe yelled from the other side of the screen door. 

“Go. Sell your weed and fuck your kook. Fuck your kook in his mansion, eat his food, sleep in his bed. And leave me here.” 

Barry’s words followed her from the trailer. Rafe grabbed her and they hurried to the truck, getting in and peeling out of the yard. 

Rafe was quiet, and Christy knew what that meant. He was pissed. Christy couldn’t help but press herself against the door, making herself small. 

He didn’t pay much attention to her until a whimper made its way out of her mouth. She closed her eyes at the sound, knowing that Rafe looked over to her. “Oh, baby…” he said quietly. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched. 

Christy had seen Rafe angry before, plenty of times. He was the only person she had ever seen seriously take on her brother and make her fear for him. 

“Just… leave me alone, Rafe,” she muttered. 

“Christy, I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Rafe, just be quiet, please.” She opened her eyes to look at him. He looked shocked, his mouth slightly open. Christy looked away before closing her eyes again.

She felt him pull the truck over to the side of the road. “Christy,” he said again, softer this time. “Hey. Come here.” 

Rafe pulled up the center console and slid across the seat so that he could wrap his arms around her. Christy curled into him, trying to hold back tears but failing as Rafe’s fingertips started making lazy circles on her back. 

She wasn’t sure what she was crying about. Barry’s words rattled her. The whole exchange did. She knew Barry’s words were true. Christy had left him when things got tough. But she knew she couldn’t totally blame herself. He wasn’t doing much to help his situation.

Rafe encountering Barry was something she didn’t want to happen. But it did, and it was bad, but not as bad as she thought it was. Maybe it was best for them to get their anger out before she was deeper in the relationship with Rafe, and before it was more of a secret. It was bound to happen at some point. 

“I’m good,” she said, making a slight peace with her thoughts. Christy unburied her head from Rafe’s chest, rubbing makeup all over his face as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m okay.” 

“You still want to go to that party?” Rafe asked, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. 

“No,” she replied. “But I at least have to stop by. I’m selling someone some weed. It won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” he said. Christy felt him press a tender kiss to the top of her head before sliding back over in the seat and pulling back onto the road. 

The sun was about to set. As soon as Rafe parked near the Boneyard, Christy hopped out of his truck. She walked through the grasses and onto the beach, knowing exactly where JJ would be. He was manning the keg with John B, the hose in one hand, a beer in the other. Christy shoved through the crowd, consisting of mostly tourons, and slid up next to JJ. 

“Follow me?” she asked, and he wordlessly handed the hose to John B. 

“Hey, Christy, you okay?” JJ asked suddenly. Christy kept walking, but JJ continued. “You don’t look too good, dude.” 

“Thanks for pointing that out,” she snapped at him. They were still too close to the crowd for her to feel comfortable doing a deal of anything larger than a couple blunts. 

“I’m serious. Hey.” JJ reached out, grabbing her arm so that she faced him. “Is everything okay?” 

She just sighed. “Want to smoke a joint with me?” 

JJ was visibly confused, but he didn’t protest. They sat on a piece of driftwood, and Christy pulled out one of the cigarette joints she and Rafe had rolled earlier. She lit it, taking a few hits, before passing it to JJ. She waited a few minutes before speaking the first words. 

“I don’t know what in the fuck I’m gonna do, JJ.” 

She was surprised the words rolled out of her mouth like they did. Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the walls crumbling in her brain, wanting to push her old life behind her. 

“Care to elaborate?” JJ asked beside her.

“I’m dating Rafe Cameron,” she stated, knowing that JJ could put the pieces together. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised, furrowing his brow. “I didn’t expect that.” Before Christy could say anything, JJ’s eyes stretched wide, and he looked at her. “Oh. Holy shit. Does your brother know?” 

“We had our first encounter with him about an hour ago,” Christy replied, taking the joint back from JJ. 

“I take it it didn’t go well?” he asked, and Christy shook her head. 

“Nope,” she said, smoke coming out of her mouth. “Barry’s not having much business. Hasn’t been good ever since Rafe ghosted him. He won’t move his own product, he needs people to buy from him in bulk, which no one will do because Rafe told everyone he’s a crazy motherfucker. Right now it’s just a few close friends he has.” 

“Agatha probably didn’t help, huh?” JJ asked, and Christy just shook her head. “If anyone can get through it, it’s you, Christy. You’re pogue through and through.” 

“You don’t know me,” she said quietly, handing him the joint. Her eyelids were heavy and she pressed her palms into the smooth, soft surface of the driftwood. 

“I know enough. Anyone to have been through as much shit as you can get away from that situation. It takes one to know one, Christy.” 

She looked over at him. JJ was smiling softly, and she couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Here’s your weed,” she said, pulling the baggie out of her pocket. “Same strain you’re smoking now. You can finish the joint, too.” 

“Here’s your fifty,” JJ said, handing her two twenties and a ten. “Thanks for your business.” 

“And for yours,” she said, standing. JJ laughed as she had to catch her balance. 

“Hey Christy?” JJ called quietly as she turned to walk away. 

“Yeah, JJ?” 

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“You got it,” she said, turning away so JJ couldn’t see her smile. The two of them had always had a natural understanding of each other. It takes one to know one, as he said. It was true. 

Christy trudged up the beach and back into Rafe’s waiting truck. “You good?” he asked, and Christy nodded. 

“Let’s go get stoned.” 

---

Christy woke up before Rafe did. He was rolled towards her, an arm draped around her waist with his mouth slightly open. 

Rafe’s breath smelled of weed. She smiled to herself, remembering the events of the previous night. They had gone onto the Druthers, laying on the outside seats, and smoked. The strain Christy brought was her favorite indica. She usually smoked it before bed. It was the only thing that would shut her brain up. 

“This is nice,” Rafe said after a few hits. His eyes were soft under his hooded lids. “I like it. I feel good.” They were laying next to each other, feeling the boat rock gently beneath them. She was laying on his chest while Rafe gently threaded his fingers through her hair, occasionally scratching her scalp. 

Christy fell asleep like that. She only woke up once to Rafe carrying her down the dock; she murmured his name and tightened her grip as she felt him step onto the soft grass. He had to briefly put her down to open the door to the house, but he picked her up again and quietly ascended the stairs before pushing open his bedroom door and setting her down in his bed, sliding next to her and pulling the covers over them. 

That’s where they were now. Rafe Cameron’s bed. His grey pillowcases smelled like him, like cedar and seawater. It was an odd combination, but she liked it. 

Rafe had put her phone on the bed between them. The time read 5:32. Her shift started at 7, so Christy decided she could get away with a few more minutes of dozing. Her work apron was draped across a chair in Rafe’s room, and she could probably rewear the previous day’s clothes, which were piled on the floor next to it. 

Christy’s stomach rolled at two missed calls from Barry. He wasn’t a texter. He was a caller. Christy was a talker, hating phone communication and opting to talk to people face to face. She willed herself to push the thought of what he had to say until she would go home after her shift that afternoon. 

Rafe was still asleep by the time she left for work at 6:30. She kissed him gently before closing his bedroom door softly behind her and trying to leave the house undetected. 

On her walk to work, she smoked a cigarette, willing the brief high to wash away the thought of Barry, which lingered in the back of her head. Instead, she focused on the sound of the laughing gulls on the shore, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves as they reached the beach. The crunch of her shoes on the gravel shoulder of the road, of the sound of cars driving by her, of the voices greeting her as she passed houses. 

Work was busy with tourists, rebounding back to the island after the hurricane. The hotels had power again, and she talked to her guests about what they had been up to. She liked hearing their stories: what drew them to the OBX, where they came from, who they were. One young couple had just gotten engaged the day before. One table seated an older couple, travelling down the east coast from Connecticut looking for seashells, and asked her the best spots. 

“At low tide, the west side of the island is the best,” she suggested, topping off their coffees and putting another handful of prepackaged creamer on the table next to their mugs. “The sound makes it shallower, so there’s lots of critters living there. More intense wave action on the east side will wash some up but they’re usually pretty banged up.” 

“That’s a neat necklace,” the woman pointed out. Christy picked up the pendant, smiling. “Did you find that?” 

“This? Oh, thanks. I love it. My mom found it.” She couldn’t help but smile at the couple, and at the memory. She pulled it off to hand to the woman. “It’s from a moon snail. The hole is a drill hole, see how regular it is on the edges? Moon snails are predatory, they’ll drill into whatever they can. Usually clams and other snails. Even other moon snails. Like this one here.” Christy pointed out the perfectly rounded hole. 

“Did you find it here?” the man asked. 

“Nah I’ve found some here though. They’re everywhere. I found this one at Edisto Island near Charleston. You guys should definitely check it out, it’s the best shelling beach I’ve ever been to.” 

The couple tenderly looked at each other. “That’s where we got married,” the woman said. “Thirty five years ago. That’s one of our next stops.” 

“It’s a special place, that’s for sure,” Christy said, smiling. Mr. Carrera’s voice sounded through the restaurant, calling out her name. “Is there anything else I can get you two?” she asked. The couple shook their heads, and she turned to make her way to the counter. 

“I’ve got a big to go order just called in,” he said, scribbling on a notepad. “Can you and Kiara make sure everything makes it into the right containers for them, and then help load it up?” 

“Sure thing, Mr. C,” she replied. They were at an odd time of the day – they were still serving breakfast, but had just opened up orders for their lunch menu. Since it was a Sunday, the place was packed with brunchers, and her section was full, keeping her mind occupied. 

The shelling couple left her a hefty tip and a sweet note on the receipt. Maybe she would see them on her walk home at the beach she told them about. 

“JJ told me about you and Rafe,” Kiara said as they were packing to-go containers into plastic bags as the orders were finished. 

“You gonna warn me about him?” Christy asked flatly, almost disinterested. It sounded bitchy of her, but she knew Kiara cared about her. 

“Just… be careful.” Kiara replied quietly. “If you ever need a buffer or place to crash away from them… let me know. Okay?” 

Christy looked at Kiara, surprised. “Thanks, Kie,” she smiled. It was nice knowing there was someone looking out for her, even if they weren’t extremely close. 

The rest of her shift went by quickly and effortlessly, but as she closed out and began walking him, she was smacked in the face with reality. Barry would be waiting for her, without a doubt. She also realized she hadn’t gotten any texts from Rafe. It was two in the afternoon. Surely he would be awake and wanting to talk to her, right? 

Christy walked along the beach, her shoes shoved into her backpack. She saw their boat tied to their dock, the trailer just up the shore from it, and she started towards the trailer. Barry was laying on a couch outside. It was nasty – they usually just draped a tarp over it whenever it rained. 

After mentally preparing herself for this interaction all day, she was surprised to see Barry grinning at her, calling out to her giddily.

Christy could tell he wasn’t high, but sober. His mood plus his mental state didn’t make sense

Something had happened.

----

fun stuff to come in the next few chapters! shit’s about to hit the fan ;)

taglist (msg or ask for an add!)   @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @ims0golden @ampanonyg @hoeforpankow @jjsmentalpolaroids @drewstarkey @obbx-tings @bricksatanakinswindow

[yikesharringrove]

Hi there! Can I get something with #13 and #39 with lots of hurt!Billy?, please friend?

Thank you for your request!

13: “Does it hurt?”

39: Stranded with a broken-down car

Prompts!

This got very long, and very angsty although I tried to throw some sweetness around. I hope you enjoy! I have included a lot of my own headcanons about Billy’s mom and his early life soooo. I was also thinking this takes place after season 2, maybe late April? idk.

There isn’t all that much hurt Billy, more Billy’s hurt leads him to word vomiting at Steve and them bonding 🤷‍♀️ I really hope you like it though!

Steve was fucked.

The engine of the BMW was cold. It wouldn’t even try to turn over when he turned the key in the ignition. No sound came from the under the hood.

Steve was on the edge of Hawkins, he had been at the quarry, wiling away some time while he couldn’t sleep. It was probably close to four in the morning now, so he said fuck it, got out of the car, and started walking home. He would hopefully make it with enough time for a shower and some coffee before walking to school. Maybe his old ten-speed was in the garage still...

Headlights blared at him from around the corner, sweeping over and past him before the car stopped and reversed, pulling up with the passenger door at Steve’s elbow.

“Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Billy Hargrove, his knight in shining denim was speaking through the window, near shouting over the loud purr of the engine and the screaming of some metal band Steve didn’t bother to know the name of.

“I’m walking.”

“I see that, dumbshit. Why are you walking down the fucking highway at four-thirty in the fucking morning?”

“Car broke down by the quarry. Figured I would walk home.” Steve shuffled his feet, looking down. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. So. Went for a drive.”

“Get in.” He almost didn’t hear Billy’s command, but Steve knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, he got in.

“Thanks, man.” Billy just nodded slightly, his face mostly hidden by the darkness of the night. He floored the car, speeding along away from Hawkins. “Um, you know my house is-it’s the other way.” Steve took in how tense Billy was, his jaw clamped and his shoulders raised. His grip on the steering wheel was nothing like the lazy one-hand her usually kept.

“You ever just need to escape? Even for a little bit?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” Steve settled in his seat. He was not opposed to taking a drive with Billy, who seemed to relax a bit. Steve was always good at reading other people. Sometimes he ignored his gut feelings in favor of something he so desperately wanted (the whole Nancy situation was example enough for that), but he could tell when something was wrong. And something was really fuckin wrong with Billy Hargrove tonight.

They drove in silence, flying down the main highway, past the Leaving Hawkins sign.

Steve turned down the music a fraction. “You wanna go get breakfast? I know a good all diner in Indianapolis. They’ll probably be open by the time we get there. My treat.”

Billy just shrugged, but he didn’t turn the music back up, and Steve called that a win.

It was nearly two hours to the city, longer if the person driving you wasn’t a speed demon, so the sun was rising by the time fields began to give way into suburbs, suburbs blooming into urbanism.

Steve sat up, ready to direct Billy to the diner on the corner of Shelby and Norton when he caught sight of Billy in the weak morning sun.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Billy, what happened?” His left eye was puffy, the cheekbone below it swollen and purple, a cut right on the high point. His jaw had long bruises on either side, as though, well it looked as though someone had grabbed him by it.

Steve thinks the worst thing were Billy’s hands.

His knuckles were white, his grip a vice on the steering wheel, but they were free of any bruising, any splits. Steve had been on the receiving end of those fights. He knew Billy fought back, and well, so if he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

The thought sent a chill down Steve’s spine.

“Can it Harrington. I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re obviously not ‘fucking fine’, Billy. What happened? Who did this?”

“Look, Princess. I’m not one of your fucking kids, so just shut your fucking mouth and leave it the fuck alone or I will make you get out of my fucking car and WALK back to shithole Hawkins. Give me directions, or get out.”

Steve sighed and led Billy along, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

They pulled up in front of Joe’s Shelby Street Diner just as a kind looking waitress with a round face and a gray ponytail was flipping the sign from closed to open.

“Welcome in boys. Take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be by with some menus.” She blinked at Billy’s face. “And some coffee.” Steve just nodded at her and led Billy to a corner both against the windows.

“My parents used to take me here.” Steve was staring down at his hands on the table, not knowing where to look. “When I was little my dad opened a branch in the city and got an apartment out here. He would only come home on weekends so every Tuesday my mom would pick me up from school, and we’d drive out here together, and meet my dad for dinner.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling billy all of this.

“My mom worked at a joint like this. I would come and hang out after school. She would sneak me rootbeer floats and help me with my homework on her breaks.” He was smiling bitterly. Steve had never heard Billy say anything about his mother before.

“What was she like?”

Billy took a breath, his own hands nervously tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. The denim one. Steve liked it.

“She had me real young, dropped outta high school when she got pregnant at fifteen kinda young. My dad was in Vietnam when I was born. Married her when he came back. I was six. She was a total hippie, she got kicked outta her house when she got knocked up, and lived on a commune with a buncha people until my dad came back. I think she only married him so she could have a place to sleep that wasn’t a tent in a field. I don’t remember a lotta that. didn’t eat any meat until I was, like eight years old. And she fuckin’ named me after William Pester, this like hippie leader who was real famous or something. ”

Billy took a break from his story when the kind waitress returned to get their orders, both boys loading up on breakfast. Steve tried not to speak so loud, afraid of breaking this spell he had created in this booth with Billy.

“Once my dad was back in the picture, it was pretty different. He’s an asshole. Made her change everything about herself. She was always real Catholic, but kind of a free spirit. Only listened to the parts of The Bible that were nice and said to love everyone, but my dad said pickin’ and choosin’ from The Bible was just pussyfooting around religion. She didn’t like that.

“He was a piece of shit from the jump. Married her because ‘a good man supports his family’ or some garbage. Good man my ass. He would yell at her about how she was raisin’ me. Said he left to defend our country, and here she was making sure his only son grew up to be a fuckin’, well. He has a few choice words about me.”

Their food was set down before them, Steve absolutely enraptured by everything Billy was saying. They ate in silence for a minute.

“Do you mind if, I mean, did she pass away?” Steve wanted Billy to keep talking. He liked learning more about him. Every word he said only softened the edges, made him so much more human.

“Nah. She left. Packed her shit one night and was just, gone. She called me a few weeks later and I fuckin’ BEGGED her to take me with her, but she wouldn't come back. I think she went back to her commune or something. I haven’t seen her since I was ten.”

“So, you’ve been with your dad ever since?”

“Yeah. He’s not jazzed about it. Always likes to remind me that I’m a bastard. He’s the one that fucked a fifteen-year-old. He was like, twenty when he did that.”Billy rolled his eyes, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Did he, do,, that?” Steve asked the question slowly, carefully. Billy snapped his eyes up to meet him.

“So what if he did?”

“I mean-I just, does it hurt?” Billy just stared.

“Are you stupid?” Steve recoiled. “Of course it fucking hurts. He got me real good this time. He’s been especially bitter since we moved here.”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid, stupid question.” Steve pushed around the scrambled egg on his plate. “Why did you guys move here?”

“You want Neil’s fake answer, or do you want the real one?” Billy leaned in conspiratorily. Steve mirrored him without even meaning to. “Can you keep a secret, Pretty Boy?”

Images of tunnels, of monsters, of staring death in the face and charging it with a spiked bat, dreams of hard, muscular masculine bodies flashed through his mind.

“Yeah. I’m good at secrets.”

“So Neil likes to say it’s to get a fresh start. Move somewhere where nobody knows us. We can have a clean slate as a family.” He spat the last few words out. “But the real story is, he wanted to get my gay ass outta liberal, free lovin’ California, to a shitty hick town where I would be the victim of a fuckin’ hate crime if I let my impulses run wild. He caught me with a guy. We weren’t even doing anything good, just makin’ out. Dad went apeshit though. Threw me down some stairs.” He rolled his eyes and casually kept eating like he hadn’t just dropped this enormous fucking bomb on Steve. 

“I’m so sorry, Bill.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t hit me. It wasn’t the first time, sure as shit wasn’t the last.”

“Is that why your mom left?”

“Yeah, she was gettin’ it pretty bad there. I mean, so was I, so I don’t get why she left me there with him. Sometimes I really hate her for it.”

“I’m sor-” Steve cut himself off when Billy gave him a sharp look. “You don’t deserve that, is all.”

“I don’t get you, Harrington. You sit there, after I dumped all this shit on you, gave you some incriminating facts about me, and you just tell me I don’t deserve to get hit by my old man. I beat the shit outta you, remember?”

“Yeah, but honestly, I was being super shady that night. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Max.” Steve shrugged. 

“That wasn’t all you, Harrington. I had gotten into it with my dad about her, how she’s my responsibility and all that, and then Mrs. fuckin’ Wheeler was all over me when I went there-I mean, don’t get me wrong. I definitely flirted a little to get some information from her, but all I really did was like, stand there. I think I ate a cookie. Usually, older women just get a little flustered, but she was, like, into it. So, I was runnin’ pretty hot by the time I met you.”

“Oh my GOD, Karen used to flirt with me all the time! I would just sit and awkwardly smile and be like, yes hello, I am here to see your teenage daughter, since I am her teenage boyfriend.” Billy laughed at that, a real boisterous laugh Steve had never heard from him before. Steve decided he liked it. 

“That’s fucking disgusting. Just because she’s unhappy with her life, doesn’t mean she gets to throw her cat at teenage boys.” Steve choked on his pop, trying not to spew it all over the table. 

“Please never say that again,”  he coughed out as Billy threw his head back and laughed. He slowly regained himself. “And, you know, I mean what I said. I’m good at secrets. I won’t, I’m not gonna tell anybody.” Billy smiled at him. 

“Yeah? King Steve got some secrets? Any you’d like to share with the class? You know, so we’re on even turf here.” Billy winked. Steve’s face went hot. 

“Well, I mean, you and I may have some things in, uh, in common.” 

“What, like shitty dads?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, but other things.”

“Mommy issues?”

“Oh, definitely, but like, OTHER stuff, too.” He willed Billy to understand. He didn’t know if he’d be able to say it out loud. 

Luckily Billy got it. A look of pure shock spread over his face, followed by a huge grin.

“No fuckin’ way. No fuckin’ way you’re gay too, Harrington.”

“Well, I mean. I don’t know.”

Billy’s face fell.

“You don’t know?”

“I mean, like, I like girls. A lot. Like I love girls and everything about them, but there’s also, there’s also guys. And I-there’s definite interest, is what I’m saying.”

Billy smiled again, a softer one this time. 

“That’s okay. Y’know some people are into both. Bisexual, is the word. David Bowie is bisexual. For some people, it’s more about the personality of the person, less the, bits I guess.”

“There’s-I mean-Bowie? Sorry, I just mean, like, there are people like that?”

“Yeah, the whole thing doesn’t have to be black and white if that’s not what you feel.”

“Fuck. That was-thanks man.” Steve mulled the word around in his head. Bisexual. It made sense. It felt, good. “Bisexual.” Billy smiled at him again. He returned it.

Billy checked his watch, yawning like a huge cat. 

“Fuck, Pretty Boy. We should probably head back. If we go fast we could probably only be a little bit late for class. 

“I mean, or we could say fuck it.” 

Billy’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah? What do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t even care man, but it’s been way too long since I’ve been in the city, and I feel like we could both use a break from fucking Hawkins. Plus, I don’t know. I like hanging out with you.”

Steve ducked his head, studying the patch of table by Billy’s left elbow, face hot and undoubtedly red. 

“I could go for a nice day of playing hooky with you.” Steve beamed at Billy, throwing some bills down on the table. 

“Then lets fucking go then.” He bounded back to the Camaro, Billy’s sweet laugh ringing through the diner.

Oh yeah, Steve could definitely get used to this.

[httphoneyb]

Fatal | Mobster!Tom x OC!

Summary: Violet Thorne and Tom Holland are both on opposing sides in the midst of a mob war. What happens when fatal collides with dangerous?

t w o

--

"Dad, I don't know what you want me to do here!" Violet sighed loudly throwing her hands in the air. Her father watching her pace back and forth infront of his desk.

"My love, I don't understand why you insist on me giving my seat to your brother. You are my first born thus, it's yours," he explained in a hushed tone.

"I want out of this dad! I've been trying to get out of this! And I can't do that i-if you keep dragging me back in!" Violet didn't understand how her father couldn't comprehend what she's been trying to say for the past hour.

The skin on her arm felt raw. Her nails dragged across it continuously since the topic was brought up.

"Then explain to me why, Violeta!" He stood slamming his hands on the dark oak desk.

Violet knew he had a rule about speaking to his children calmly, reserving his assertive voice for their enemies and prisoners.

He was always a gentle man around her and her brothers, some would say you wouldn't be able to tell he ran a mob while he was around his children. This circumstance was a rarity in her family.

So she stood and let the silence envelope the room.

"Exactly my point. You have no reason for wanting to be out of the business. Not a valid one anyway."

When in fact she did.

Her whole life Violet watched her brothers grow up like soldiers. As soon as they could walk, a gun was placed into their hands and the boys were taught how to shoot.

She didn't want a family like that. She's terrified to have a family like that.

"This could all be yours, my love. This...this empire was built on first borns, you are to continue it on. I'm growing old, Violeta. I need you to take my place. Especially when we're in the midst of a war."

"A war?"

"The Hollands have been crossing multiple mob boundaries in the past months. They're making alliances with the Diaz mob and broke their truce with the Rizzos. They're expanding. I can't do this on my own, Violeta."

"Pappa but you're not on your own..theres five other boys in the house waiting to take your spot. Leo has a knack for this, Dad. Use him!"

He chuckled lowly, "We both know you'd give Leonardo a run for his money."

"That's not my point. What I am saying is tha-" Violet was cut off by Luca, the youngest of the six, as he swung the wooden doors open doors open.

"We found the mole," was all he said before turning around and leaving.

"Mole? What mole?" Violet walked with her father out of his office, confusion written all over her face.

"Some of our info was leaked and other mobs got ahold of our shipments, drug and weapon outlets, even some safe houses." She could feel her father getting angrier as she reached the basement of their mansion.

"What?!"

Angelo, the third oldest joined them, "We found a usb full of our shipment dates and outposts. It was a cook, says the Hollands sent him."

Of course it was

She watched her father take out knives and guns as he headed for the lowest floor. The mere smell of that place made her stomach churn.

"You coming?" Angelo stopped midstep and turned to her.

"Yeah I'm just gonna save myself the trouble and head out for the day," Violet backed away from the flight of stairs.

"Hey Vi..just so you know, you're gonna have to suck it up one day, this job has no place for personal morals," Angelo turned around and decended the stairs, leaving Violet chewing at her lip.

What if he was right?

What if she really just needed to suck it up?

What if this was meant for her?

What if

What if

What if

Wh-

"Earth to Violet!" Leo waved a hand infront of her face.

The raven haired girl was dragged out of her own throughts.

"Tom wants to talk to you." Leo whispered, afraid that their father someone would hear.

Violet's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Tom? Tom Holland?"

"Yes Tom Holland! Who else!" Her brother sighed in annoyance, "He sent a letter this morning, good thing I got to it before Dad."

A light blue envelope was placed in her hand.

"A letter? Guy doesn't own a phone?" she scoffed, eyes skimming through the writing, the letters were smooth and neat, contrasting the many wrinkles on the paper.

"He's traditional I guess. Whatever. It just says he wants to meet with you to discuss some things blah blah blah...some thing about weapons yadda yadda.." Leo talked animatedly. His hands always waving around as he spoke.

"Why not Dad? I'm not in charge."

"Dad has it out for him, he's paranoid these days. Thinks everyone's out to get him."

"And what if it's a trap?"

"I'll have men tail you for protection, but other than that I think this is you know...good."

"Good? Good how?"

"Look, I don't wanna see this war that Pappa's been talking about happen. People will die. If theres a way to stop it, I think only you can pull it off."

"As much as I'm flattered, there's no point in me talking to him. I'm not taking Dad's place."

Leo rolled his eyes at his stubborn sister.

"No one said anything about that! Just go talk to him and see what he wants!"

"Fine."

"Yes!"

"But-"

"Oh no."

"You have to handle that southwest gang of criminals scamming our casinos."

"Ugh."

---

"Have they replied?" Tom asked as Harrison walked into the room.

"She's on her way now, actually. Eager girl," Harrison chuckled. "What do you want with her anyway?"

"Nothing harmful. Just trying to see if she could hold her own." Tom smirked as the burn of scotch travelled down his throat.

Violet rolled up to the front of the Holland mansion, a bit bigger than the Thorne's but then again, who's keeping track these days? Right?

Sam Holland walked to the car and opened the door for Violet. "Miss Thorne."

Violet took his hand and bent to look back at her driver in the car.

"When should I pick you up ma'am?"

"I'll call for you, Artie. Thank you." she smiled gratefully and followed the twin into the house.

"Bring a weapon with you, Thorne?" Harrison called from the top of the foyer.

"You think I'm gonna go into enemy territory without one?" she retorted. "Whoa! Kid! What're you doing!"

"Can't take any chances." Sam began to pat her down staring from her waist.

"Think we're gonna roll and show our bellies just cos you're a woman?" Harrison chuckled.

"I was counting on it.." she pouted as Sam seized her gun.

"Now there's no need for that ,Sammy." All of a sudden Tom appeared next to Harrison and started decending the stairs. "Don't you know how to treat a lady?" He grinned at her, "Let her keep the gun."

"Tom-"

"Let her keep the gun." Venom dripped from Tom's voice as he spoke slowly, "After all, this is just a casual talk right?" His eyes moved to hers, an ominous meaning behind his words unsettled her but stayed holding his gaze.

"Sure is." she took her gun back and slipped it on the band on her jeans as Tom looked behind her and whispered, "Then tell your men to turn around and go home."

Violet's heart dropped to her stomach and turned, the men Leo had sent with her we're parked outside the gates of the mansion, headlights turned off and obvious guns in hand. She sighed and called her brother.

"Yeah?"

"Tell them to go home." she said simply into the phone as Tom smirked at her.

"Vi, you can't be serious."

"Just do it."

She hung up the phone and threw a taunting smile at the boys before her.

"Follow me." Tom led Violet up the stairs and into what she assumed was his office. Much like her father's, the office was very manly and dark.

Taking a seat infront of his desk she asked, "Why am I here, Holland?"

"I want a cut of your drug profits." Tom said simply.

"And what do I get in return?" Violet leans forward to place her forearms on the desk.

"Safe travels. I know that for years your family has been funneling your weapons through my side of the city to get to them across the Atlantic. And for years my guys have been giving you trouble," Violet nods, pouring herself her own cup of scotch, "All I'm asking for is say..20% of your drug profits and I let your guys through with no hassle."

Violet finally breaks eye contact with Tom and doubles over in laughter, catching the mob boss off guard.

"20%?! Ha! You're delusional." She scoffs at him.

He stared at her with a look of both amusement and annoyance.

"Mr. Holland," Violet recollected herself as she sat with poise, sharp eyes looking at the man before her, "did you know that my family runs America's biggest underground drug cartel? We have 8 different bases across the country, and 2 abroad. Bringing in approximately twenty-million dollars a year each. You're asking me to cut 20% of my 200 million a year to..what," she did the math quickly in her head as Tom gaped at her in disbelief, "$160,000,000 for safe travels, as you put it, for one of our outposts?You've gone insane. Your men aren't anything mine can't handle. Now if you'll excuse me."

Tom ran his calloused hands up and down his face in exhaustion. Man she was a hassle.

"Wait."

Violet sat back down and looked at him in boredom.

"15%"

"Eight."

"Thirteen."

"Six."

"Fifteen."

"Six."

"Twelve."

"Three."

Tom cussed outloud and leaned back in his chair. "8% and I'll tell you what the Rizzo's down south are planning."

"Why would I care about some shithole mob?" Violet scoffed at his poor attempt to negotiate.

"They're trying to kill you."

Tom saw that what he said piqued the stubborn girls interest.

"Fine. 16 million a year. Now, tell me more."

Tom inwardly smirked at this, "They think that killing you would kill your empire. They know Robert would never give his seat to anyone else. And they also know you're refusing to take it. If you're gone..all they have to do is wait for your dad to die and your mob along with it."

The room was filled with silence as a million thoughts ran through Violet's mind.

"Huh," she chuckled.

She's laughing? Why would she be laughing at the fact someone's trying to kill her? Tom thought to himself.

"Guess that's just another thing on my list," she got up and slid her coat on, "enjoy your sixteen million, Holland."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Violet." The pair shook hands before Violet said, "Buy your share under a different name, my dad would never sell to a Holland."

"Will do," Tom walked her to the front door, "And for the record..I wouldn't mind you being the business, Violet. You'd be a worthy opponent." Tom complimented her genuinely.

Violet only looked back at him, winking she said, "You bet your sweet ass I'd be."

Tom chuckled as the click of her heels faded and Harrison was at his side.

"So...?"

"Ferocious that one.. smart too." Tom had a sly smile decorating his face.

"But I've got her right where I want her."

---

taglist:

@scuzmunkie

[sm-entertain-me]

Technically Off Limits (E)

Requested by @sarangtae-vante:  Hey love, can have an imagine where you've been fan of bts for a long time but then you actually get recruited in their tech team and it was really hard not to fan girl around them but they made you fell really comfortable. And then any of the member (jin or jk or jimin or all) finds that you have a crush on taehyung and you can take from here.i don't mind if it's a fluff or mature. (I decided fluff, btw)

Contains: Kim Taehyung x (f) reader, adult language, FLUFF, tech team!reader, Bighit employee!au

Synopsis: Congratulations on you getting hired on Big Hit Entertainment's tech team! It makes all those computer science classes worth it to be able to work for your favorite company. However, it’s made very clear that you are not to be romantically involved with any of the talent... 

The day you got the email to join Bighit's tech teams was not one you would easily forget. Although the events leading up to it were something to be desired since you had gotten yelled at by your boss, well, ex boss. It was a cold, rainy day and you had gotten home around 9 o'clock ish because of the intense hours your employer chose to put onto you, serving as a "warning" to not be late again. Everything seemed to be going wrong until you opened your email to find a special piece of mail sitting at the top of your inbox, shining with bold letters. You had a good feeling what the email contained, but you weren’t sure that it was an opportunity to change your life forever.

Ever since then, you’ve been whisked away to Seoul to help out with minor technical issues with Bighit’s offices and stuff like that. Most of the employees didn’t really speak English that well so they often sent one of the trainees or other rookies that had recruited from English speaking countries to give you orders. Honestly, even though you were living your dream, it was a little bit boring to you. You were under the impression you would be working closely with the artists that have been produced from this company, not fixing minuscule viruses that would pop up occasionally because of the trainee artists clicking on emails that they really shouldn’t be. You weren’t going to name names of course because that would be embarrassing for them as well as you, since you knew what kind of emails were causing the viruses. Still, a job’s a job.

It was a little later than when you were supposed to get out, getting sucked into helping with PD-nim’s technical issues with his sound system in the office. You didn’t complain because he was a very nice man, and he was easily the most powerful person in this whole facility and could ship you right back into the shithole of a life you had prior to this. “Need help with that?” A familiar voice called out from behind you, causing you to jump where you stood and dropping some of your tools on the ground. You held your hand over your heart as you inhaled sharply, turning on your heels to find Jungkook standing there with his goofy smile after he realized he scared you pretty badly. “Jesus Christ, Kook,” You groaned as you doubled over and held onto the caps of your knees, still trying to get your breathing down to a semi normal rate.

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you have gone home like, half an hour ago?” Jungkook questioned as he slipped through the opened doorway and stood next to you, sitting down in PD-nim’s swivel chair to tend to the need of Twitter for another selca. Rolling your eyes lightly, you nodded at him as you grabbed the tiny screwdriver that lay on the ground, “Yeah, but I have to get this done. I’m so close to being promoted to your guys’ technical manager.” It was true. You were very close to being promoted to being one of the on hand tech managers whenever the guys went on tour. Although you only really gotten close with Jungkook and Jimin, you were more than happy to get to know the rest of them. Especially Taehyung.

Ah yes, Kim Taehyung. He was easily the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. He had a smile that could melt you into a puddle, eyes that were the softest shade of brown and could carry the whole light of the world in them, and a laugh that always made you smile. However, you never really got to know him because you were super shy and didn’t want to ruin any part of the nonexistent relationship you had, he was talent and you were instructed to never get involved with any of the talent as your job was just to make sure everything was running smoothly in the tech department, and you rarely got to see him outside of practice. It was a shame really because you felt like you and Taehyung would really hit it off. You did, however, come really close to asking Jungkook to be your wingman, but you knew that if he found out your true feelings about his bandmate that he would surely make your life a living hell with the constant teasing and pestering. 

“Hey! Y/N! Did you even hear me?” Jungkook’s voice rang out to you from his position behind you, yanking you back into reality. You turned to face him with a look of confusion, still gripping the screwdriver in your hand that had yet to move from your thinking about Taehyung. That earned an eye roll from Jungkook as he stood up and came towards you, waving his hand in front of your face to bring you completely back from the vice grip your thoughts had on you, “Geez you checked out for a good minute there. What were you thinking about?” “No one,” You responded simply, turning your back to him to continue your work. That was, until Jungkook reached out to grab your shoulders and turn you completely around, “Y/N, I said what were you thinking about, not who. But now you’re going to tell me who or I’ll break PD-nim’s sound system even more than it is now.” “You wouldn’t,” You seethed, narrowing your eyes at the young man in front of him who wore a smirk like it was a permanent part of his body. “Try me.”

Jungkook was a persistent one, you’ll give him that. He wouldn’t let you leave the room, wouldn’t let you pick up the screwdriver to continue your work, and surely wouldn’t let you change the subject. He even resulted to yanking the screwdriver away from you until you at least gave him a hint on who had taken your full attention. “Is he older than me?” Jungkook questioned as he fiddled with the tool needed to finish the job, knowing it was annoying you. “Yes,” You grumbled as you walked over to the desk, sitting on it casually. Jungkook’s lips formed a smile as he looked up at you to continue his questioning, “Is he in BTS?” “Kook, seriously,” You groaned as you tried to grab the screwdriver that was dangerously close to your hand but he was way too quick, looking at you until you answered him. With a huff and a sigh, you answered, “Yes.” Jungkook chuckled, “Of course he is. That’s why you want to be on the tech team, you like someone in the band. Is it Tae Tae?” 

The sudden silence that filled the room was more than enough to answer Jungkook’s question as you looked down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs as if you were ashamed to admit it. Jungkook saw the sudden drop of your face and quickly walked over to you, bending down to meet your eyes, “Hey. It’s okay. Taehyung is a really nice guy and I’m sure that I can get you two to go out or something.” “No,” You protested as you looked away to hide the redness that was spreading through your face due to embarrassment of this whole conversation. “I’m not allowed to. I’m here to work, not date. PD-nim made that very clear.” You watched as Jungkook rolled his eyes, grabbing your face to look at him, “Y/N, do you realize how many people here have had romantic trysts with the artists here? The answer is a lot. Now, I’m going to set you up with Taehyung and you’re going to enjoy yourself. Besides, maybe he likes you too.” “Who likes who?”

The voice that asked that question didn’t belong to you or Jungkook. You both turned to the source of the noise, coming face to face with the very person you were just talking about. “Taehyung,” You said with widened eyes, trying to hide your face that still had the prominent redness from Jungkook’s pestering. Jungkook stood up quickly and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Oh, nothing Tae.” Taehyung’s lips formed a pout as he entered the office, walking to stand right next to you and offering a smile at you before he spoke, “Come on Kook, I barely get to hear any drama anymore. I wanna know.” Jungkook looked down at you, silently asking you to handle the situation since it was really your feelings being discussed. Taehyung also looked down at you, waiting to see if you would tell him even though you knew it could ruin any chance of getting that promotion you desired. 

“I... I don’t really want to tell you,” You admitted, stammering almost every single word that poured out of you because of the nervousness that sat in your stomach from Taehyung being so close and having to admit your feelings to him. Taehyung sighed as he grabbed your hand in his, stroking the top of it with his thumb, “Y/N, you can trust me.” You were kind of shocked that he actually knew your name considering he’s really only said hello a few times to you when he passed through the hallways or the elevator to get to the practice rooms, but you weren’t complaining. Jungkook was standing opposite the two of you as he watched the way Tae was holding your hand, awkwardly shoving his hand into his pocket, “Oh um, by the way... I may or may not have already said something about you liking him.”

“You fucking what?” You yelled, snatching your hand out of Taehyung’s and rushing over to Jungkook to grab him by the collar, shaking him as hard as you could even though it barely made the bulky kid move. “You told him?!?” “To be fair, it was kind of obvious. Yoongi-hyung and I had a bet to see how long it would take for Tae to find out, so I told him so I could win the bet,” Jungkook admitted as he let you continue to shake him back and forth against the wall. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You trusted Jungkook. Actually, you hadn’t even told him that you had feelings for Taehyung, so you were more shocked at the fact that it was so obvious to everyone else besides you. You thought you were pretty good at hiding your emotions, but your actions prove otherwise. 

You finally calmed down at you let go of Jungkook’s collar, pushing the fabric out so you could smooth the wrinkles you caused. Sighing softly, you pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose to control yourself, “Kookie, I’m sorry. I just, I really want this promotion and the whole reason I hadn’t said anything was so that PD-nim wouldn’t find out and threaten to terminate me... And now Taehyung knows, and so does Yoongi. God I’m screwed.” A soft hand found the base of your shoulder blade, rubbing it lightly as the person it belonged to spoke quietly, “No, no. You’re not screwed. PD-nim doesn’t have to know anything about it. Y/N, you’re a great tech expert. And if you hadn’t noticed, we kind of have a say in who’s in our tech group on the road. Both Kook and I can vouch for you. Hell, even Jimin can vouch for you.” 

You turned on your heels to look up at Taehyung with eyes that had a few tears being held back sicne you thought you would surely get fired, “You-You’d do that? For me?” Taehyung smiled softly at you, his eyes forming deep crescents as he looked at you, “Of course I would. You’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever seen, and you’re also the kindest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” A smile found its way onto your face as you looked down to hide the small blush, afraid Taehyung would catch it.

 A hand gripped the bottom of your chin and pulled you to look up, your eyes meeting once again with Tae’s, “And about you liking me, let me ask you a question. Has it ever occurred to you that I always say hi to you in the elevator when the practice rooms are below the tech department? They’ve never been above.” It all made sense to you. Taehyug had no reason to be on the elevator with you for so long. The practice rooms are on the third floor and the tech department is on the fifth. He’d gone out of his way to stay on that elevator to say hi and strike up seemingly meaningless conversations with you. That was sure to get your heart racing.

“So are you going to ask her or what? I did my part,” Jungkook said impatiently, interrupting your conversation as he stood with his arms crossed. “She nearly ripped my shoulder out of place by shaking me so hard.” Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jungkook and motioned for him to leave, Jungkook giving at nod to the both of you to say his farewells. You tilted your head at Taehyung, wanting to know what he meant by “I did my part.” Taehyung smiled a nervous smile, gripping the back of his neck and giving a good scratch, “I may or may not have planned this out since Kook told me about you liking me a couple months ago. I didn’t know how to go about it since we barely talk, but I would love to get to know you, if that’s okay.” Taehyung saw your face contort to show your nervousness, still thinking about how you could lose your job over this. Until he used an argument you simply couldn’t resist, “It’s just one little date. What PD-nim doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” 

Little did you know that the one little date that Taehyung was talking about turned into another date, and another one, and him asking you to be his girlfriend after you got your promotion to the BTS technical manager. Once you were promoted, PD-nim really had no grounds to fire you since you and Tae were dating after you got your promotion... Or so he thought. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

[veronicamarsbars]

Veronica Mars: Secrets.

Been rewatching Veronica Mars recently and decided that my feelings for Logan have to be expressed somehow, so why not write a quick Reader x Logan one shot? I love Veronica and Logan together, but I felt more inspired to write it for the reader instead. 

Prompt: You’re crashing at Logan’s hotel room, to get away from family & friends, when he brings home a girl...

Word count: 2,400

Warnings: None

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Logan almost flipped out when he walked into his Neptune Grand hotel room and saw you eating out of a bag of crisps on his couch in front of the TV. Not only did he not expect to see you there, it being only just after school and all, but also was just about to bring in the girl who's father had testified against him in the murder of Felix Toombs. His brown eyes widened at the sight and he stumbled back towards the door where Hannah was, stammering out something like, "Oh, I think I might've left something in the car..." 

You take this single moment to dash into his bedroom, turning the TV off, crisps in hand, you close the doors behind you. Your room, or the room that you've been staying in for the past few weeks, is on the opposite side of the hotel room, the one Duncan Kane used to occupy before he fled the country. But because Hannah would've seen a stumbling teenager with a bag of crisps and wild couch hair run past Logan... well, that idea was of course completely off the table. Instead, you'll just have to hide in here and hope for the best -- that they don't need the bedroom to do what they want to do.

You hear them settle on the couch as the TV is switched on, so you relax a little and thank your lucky stars that this room has a bathroom suite. You turn over on the mattress and plug earphones into your MP3 player, jamming them into your ears so you don't have to listen to their lovey-dovey talk. Logan has been a friend to you for the past couple of months, nothing more, and you're still not so sure how you feel about that. But now that he's bringing girls over... well, it doesn't fit so comfortably with you after all. You chuck him a text, letting him know how much crap he'd be in if you didn't practically leap from the couch and tumble into his room in time.

You: You're lucky I'm so quick and agile. BTW -- plugged in some music so u can make out all u want. Just don't moan too loudly or I might vom.

Logan: I thank you and thank you again. DW not 2 much making out happening here, but ty 4 the heads up. FYI do NOT go looking under my bed. U don't wanna c what's under there. Tootles.

Sometimes you admire how well Logan uses text-talk but most of the time it irritates you, and he knows it, so he does it more than often.

Not too much making out? Now that's a lie you'll never forget, why else bring the her home to a hotel room where no parents can keep a watchful eye? And the part about not looking under his bed? Of course you would snoop, it's almost what you do best, other than sleeping over everyone's houses in Neptune because going home is just too much right now, of course.

You glance at the closed door and then duck down close to the bedroom floor and peer underneath the bed. A few boxes lay close together, some odd dirty laundry the cleaners never found... and a white coloured CD with black marker writing: Mix For Y/N. 

You quickly shuffle around through Logan's belongings, hoping to not find anything too incriminating, and finally pull out his old CD Walkman. You plug in your earphones and slip the CD inside, then press play. Immediately your ears are engulfed by loud screamo, intense guitar filled music and you almost yelp loudly-- almost. You pull the earphones away, still hearing the echo of the music even when they're no longer in your ears, and then find your phone to text Logan once again.

You: Wow. U are an idiot.

Logan: Hey! I told u not 2 look!

You: My ears are suffering.

Logan: UR own fault

You laugh quietly to yourself over his last text and then decide that chilling on Logan's bed with your own, non-screamo music plugged into your ears will just have to do for entertainment until his girl leaves. You've grown used to the Logan Smell, and it's not a bad smell either. You hope he doesn't mind you snuggling up in his blankets... soon, your eyes grow too heavy and sleep overcomes you all too quickly.

Hannah leaves, thankfully only a small kiss goodbye, and Logan's thoughts go suddenly to you. He feels guilty that he had to push you out of the living room, but thankful that there didn't seem to be any complaints. You don't know a lot about the murder case, but you believe Logan when he says he didn't do it. You don't know Hannah's connection to the case, or how her father falsely testified because of his link to the Fitzpatricks. 

Logan walks quietly towards his room, carefully listening out for any sound from within. He hears nothing so he decides to knock but there's no answer. When he opens the doors he immediately spots you curled up on top of his bed, wrapped loosely in some of his blankets, your MP3 Player still on and playing tunes. He nears the bed and watches you breathe rhythmically before carefully pulling away your earphones. He goes to leave but then notices the blankets aren't over your body completely, so he tucks you in and then closes the bedroom doors while he awaits his next guest outside on the couch. 

You wake up and notice your turned off MP3 Player, wrapped up in your earphones on the bedside table. You remember you're inside Logan's room and wonder if they've finally left or not. You rub the sleep from your eyes and get up from the bed. You twist the doorknob and open the door barely, to see. You hear voices, Logan's and a girl's. Blonde. But different, not the girl who was here before. Jeez, how many girls can he have over in one night? She turns around for a quick second and you realise it's Veronica Mars. You gasp close to inaudibly and back away from the door, right now you're on good terms with Veronica so if you walked out from Logan's bedroom... well... you know the history they have.

"It's alright, Y/N, you can come out."

Your eyes widen as you hear Logan speak and suddenly wonder if you could just hide under the bed instead. However, you know you can't just sit here now that he's mentioned your name, so hesitantly, you walk out of his bedroom, meeting eyes with Veronica. She smiles, although you can never tell if she means the friendliness behind it or not.

You smile back, "Hi... Veronica," you glance quickly at Logan who only seems to be amused by this, "It's seriously not what it looks like."

Veronica looks between both you and Logan.

Logan laughs, "Yeah, I had a surprise visit by a girl I've been seeing and... well Y/N had to go hide for me."

Veronica shakes her head, "Right, that girl, Hannah, huh? How's that working out for you?" You notice an edge to her voice, and wonder if it was on purpose or not.

He looks away, as if ashamed, and you suddenly wonder who this Hannah girl really is... "Fine Veronica. Just fine."

She then looks over at you, still no emotion that you can properly identify, and you're unsure if your good terms just turned to bad terms, "Are you staying here?"

You glance again at Logan who only shrugs at you, "Yes... Yeah, I am."

"You know, your friends are worried about you."

He quickly interjects, "Why would her friends be worried?"

She rolls her eyes, "Because Logan, Y/N hasn't been going to school much lately and she isn't staying at her own house anymore, clearly."

Logan looks to you, as if questioning you. He knew you weren't at home much these days, because of your being here obviously, but he didn't know you weren't making much of an appearance at school. You blamed him not seeing you on the very different class schedules you have, besides Journalism, but you would just excuse yourself by claiming you were busy taking photos for the articles. He usually didn't think much of it, at least, until now.

"You haven't been going to school?"

You look to your feet, "I... uh..."

Veronica turns to Logan quickly, "She's been staying here but you haven't noticed her disappearance from school? Are you kidding?"

He throws his arms up, while sitting down on the couch, out of frustration, "Haven’t you noticed I've been a little busy, you know, trying to clear my name of murder?" 

She shakes her head and doesn't reply.

You sit on the edge of the couch, looking at him apologetically, "Logan, I... I'm sorry I lied--

"If I ask how your day has been at school and you tell me that it was fine, I expect you to have actually been there--

You roll your eyes, this conversation quickly starting to sound like the ones you have with your parents on a daily basis, "Since when did school matter to you? Didn't you just blow off like two months of it with Dick and Beav's step-mom?"

Logan sits back into the couch defeated, although definitely pissed. Veronica doesn't say anything, although you do spot a sense of enjoyment out of all of this.

Veronica packs up her laptop and slings her bag over her shoulder, "I should probably get going, we can talk about your case tomorrow if you want." She passes Logan and heads towards the front door, "See you Y/N!" 

You sigh and regret what you said about Logan and Mrs Casablancas. "Logan, things at school," You sigh again, "Things at school are shit right now, and I didn't want to tell you about it all because you've let me stay here for the past couple of weeks and... I guess I didn't want to mess that up."

He doesn't look at you for a moment, but when he finally does, he seems to understand. "Why has it been shit?" His voice is quiet and genuinely caring; concerned.

You shrug, "Those friends Veronica were talking about... let's just say them worrying about me is a total lie. They just like to gossip. And my parents, well, you know all that."

He scoots closer to you on the couch, an arm wrapping around you to bring you closer to him, "Neptune is a shithole." His statement is so matter-of-fact you can’t help but laugh.

Shaking your head you reply, "I really am sorry though, I shouldn't lie to you if I'm staying here."

He sighs, "It's okay. I guess I don't expect you to tell me everything..."

You look up at him with a grin, "Why, because you don't tell me everything?"

His eyes widen, and he feigns shock, "Excuse me?"

"This Hannah girl, huh?"

He shakes his head, "That is nothing to worry about."

You screw your face up in confusion, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He leans his face close to you, his cheek brushing against your face, his nose almost touching yours, "It's just something I have to do."

"Something to do with the case?"

"Yeah," he says it quietly, almost too quietly, and you know whatever it is he's doing, he's not so proud of it.

"Don't get into any more trouble."

His body shakes with the laughter, "Starting to sound like... hmm... everybody I know."

You look into his eyes meaningfully, "I'm serious Logan, that night on the bridge must have been scary enough for you, you don't need anything else right now..."

Logan suddenly thinks back to the van that swooped him away unconsciously one night, after the bridge incident, when he woke up in some shed or warehouse with a man pointing a gun at him, playing Russian roulette with his dick. He hasn’t told anyone about that, and he probably won’t be sharing it with anyone any time soon. He looks at you seriously, no more Logan wit or sass, "I promise, I won't do anything to cause me anymore trouble, okay?" Although he says it, he’s not so sure how true that claim really is.

You lean in, only slightly closer, and squeeze him with your arms around his neck. “I know you hate it, but I’m only saying it because I care.” 

You begin to release him from your hug, but before you can settle back into the couch, he turns his head and follows you back into the cushioning. His lips touch yours and at first your startled by this kind of affection from him, but you kiss him back, your hands sliding up the back of his neck into his hair. He pushes you back so you lie down instead of leaning upwards, a gentle hand on your waist and the other leaning on the couch cushion. You continue kissing as his body brushes over yours, heated and impatient, your hands fumble at his shirt. He slips it off with ease and your unfortunately reminded of the many times he's had practice with all of this, but you push it to the back of your mind, well, more like it's forced back as he unbuttons your own shirt. He dips closer to you, his heated kisses leaving your lips and instead pressing on your neck, a trail of them left towards the center of your chest. 

Suddenly, two sharp knocks bang against the front door and your both apart in seconds. You look at Logan and he looks at you, him shirtless and you as good as it, both surprised but not regretful. His eyes cling to yours for a moment but then the door shakes again with a couple more knocks and your both reminded someone is waiting to be answered. He quickly kisses you again before picking up his shirt, telling you that whatever it was you both were doing is most definitely not over yet.

"Hello, guys? I left my phone!" Veronica's voice echoes from outside the hotel room and you quickly do up your shirt in haste as Logan answers the door.

Veronica walks in and quickly retrieves her phone but as she heads back towards the front door she eyes you, "Y/N, your buttons aren't done up right. Maybe I should knock a little longer before--

Logan shakes his head, pushing her out the front door, "Annoy, annoy like the wind, Veronica!" As he comes back towards the couch he smiles at your blushing cheeks, "Oh don't worry about it, Veronica isn't a gossip, just nosey." He kisses you gently and slowly, drawing it out for a moment before breaking away, "Now, where were we?"

[667-darkavenue]

Sad Lib Ouija

@daughterofthestars‘ lupcretia doodle gave me a craving to write some mage hand shenanigans so....

“Gonna wake up so sore tomorrow,” Lup complained, brows drawn together from the pain of moving her shoulders at all.

“It’s been raining for twenty days straight on this shithole planet,” Taako, caked in mud, whined back before disappearing into the bathroom that connected their adjoining rooms.

He snapped the door shut with deliberate force to punctuate how pissy the day’s events left him. Lup didn’t blame him. The light of creation appeared late this year, which pushed them to leave their base at the crack of dawn every grey morning to get as much searching done through the rainstorms constantly plaguing this part of the country they stayed in. They spent the day hiking calf-deep in mud through twisted jungle paths, then scaling a mountainside before discovering, upon reaching its peak, it was the wrong fucking mountain. Lup nearly flung herself off the ledge in frustration. Rain or not, they had a mission to finish, and would set out again in less than seven hours.

She’d been in a similar mood as her brother twenty minutes ago, but, exhausted and sore as she was, something about being freshly showered and wrapped up in her bathrobe always lifted her spirits. She collapsed face first into her bed, longing to knock the fuck out.

Her throat was so dry.

Maybe she could ignore it.

No, it was uncomfortably parched.

Lup’s eyes snapped open and she released a frustrated sigh. With every tired muscle complaining, she dragged herself out of bed and down the hallway with plans to chug down a jug of water in record time. The corridor was pitch black, except for one streak of orange light spilling from a door left ajar. They’d been on this ship long enough for Lup to know that was Lucretia’s room, just from its place in the hallway. Naturally, she poked her nose in as she passed.

She saw Lucretia’s back hunched over her desk. Lup could tell she was ready to drop by the tired heaviness in the way her shoulders sagged. She leaned against the doorframe and watched for a couple of minutes, somehow still impressed at the sight of Lucretia writing with two hands simultaneously even after all this time.

“Hey.”

Lucretia paused at the sound of a voice in her doorway and looked over her shoulder. She didn’t put the quills in her hands down. “Hey?”

“What are you doing?” Lup traipsed in and sat herself right on the edge of the desk. “How d’you have the energy for this right now?”

“I don’t know if I do have it,” Lucretia said, darting a panicked look at Lup’s legs nearly knocking over an inkwell as they crossed. “But I won’t have time to do it in the morning.”

She went back to her journaling. Her handwriting was lovely in both books.

“Thought you gave up this nerdy stuff now that you’re a badass who comes on missions with us.”

“You thought wrong,” she said without looking up. Her voice had a careless, flat edge to it that implied ‘Fuck off, Lup.’ Old Lucretia would have softened that. New Lucretia was awesome.

New Lucretia slid sixty yards down a mountainside when the ground, soft and heavy with moisture, collapsed out from under her today and didn’t even seem freaked out about it when she caught up to the team. She had to be more exhausted than any of them.

“Are you coming with tomorrow?”

“Yeah? Yeah.”

“Have you stayed up every night doing this? Jesus, Lucretia, put the quill down and go the fuck to sleep.”

She dutifully ignored Lup hovering over her and continued writing away. Lup plucked the quill out of her right hand. Lucretia’s head snapped up to pierce her with a sharp look. It was a good one, for a moment Lup felt like she was actually in trouble.

“Give me that.” Lucretia held her palm out expectantly.

Lup slapped a low five on it with her free hand.

“Lup.” She reached for it and Lup raised her hand to hold it just out of reach.

Lucretia’s fingers swiped higher and nearly caught it this time. Lup clamped the quill between her teeth.

“Let’s tango,” she said through clenched teeth, feeling like a dancer holding a rose in their mouth.

“Fine.” Lucretia dropped her hand and fell back into her seat.

Victory! She’s giving up and going to be--The quill ripped itself out from between Lup’s teeth with a vicious yank. It floated right back into Lucretia’s fingers.

“What the--” Bits of feather stuck to the the tip of her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and she sputtered clumsily for a moment, trying to spit them out. “Did you fuckin’ Mage Hand me?”

“I don’t know, did I,” Lucretia wondered out loud to her notebook, which she turned her focus to again.

An impish smile broke over Lup’s face, but Lucretia was too busy looking down at the page to see it. Seconds later, a transparent hand appeared over the quill and pushed its stem. Her elegant handwriting jerked mid-word.  

“Seriously, Lup? Grow up.” Lucretia tried to carry on unbothered.

“Yikes, what does that even say? Put it down, you’re obviously tired.” Mage Hand pushed the quill again, ruining another word.

Lucretia carried on despite the fumbles in her text. “I’m fine!”

Mage Hand clamped itself around hers, dragging Lucretia’s fist over the page. The current sentence read: The aboriginal race native to forests of our expedition has the misfortune ofSLEEP living amongst the only known LUCREsource oTfA GO the deliTO SLciousEEP Hama root.

Lucretia made a tiny, distressed noise in her throat at the garbled mess taking over her page. “Let go of me!”

“I’m not touching you,” Lup answered in a familiar, playful voice that was usually reserved for Taako.

“Why are you even here? Get out of my room!”

“Aww, are you an only child, Lucretia?”

The root is a delicacy throughout thHEY controlling empires. Colonial farming operationsFUCKIN encroach upon STOtPhe jungles that the peaceful LanzaroHEtesYYYcall home.

Mage Hand dissipated at the end of its time limit and Lucretia sighed, relieved. Lup immediately recast it.

“Stop!”

“You stop,” Lup insisted.

Though colonizers met resistance from THEIR theCLOGGED ASSHOLES native population, the taste of COCK the Hama root was so beloved that entire divisions were sent overseas to suSUCCppress the uprising.

“Lup, this is important!”

“Oh my god, I know. What happened after the succ?”

“This is a historically significant culture with very little documentation!”

“It’s like fantasy mad libs, but not even fun. Sad libs.”

The operation is well known as a historical embarrassment, as tHEIR DICKS WERE SO DAMN SMALL IN COMPARISON TO the Lanzarotes’ prowess in stealth prevented the military from ever fully suppressing the LUST OF the native population.

“Fine, I give up.”

“Oh, no you don’t.”

“No?” Lucretia tried to drop the quill, but Mage Hand kept its fingers wrapped tight around hers, trapping it in her hand.

“I need to know what happened with the sexual revolution! You have a duty—”

“Let me go!”

“—To the people—”

“I want to stop now!”

“—Lucretia. Do you really?”

Mage hand took over the text while Lucretia’s fingers went limp and desperately tried to wriggle out of its grip. The story continued: THE LAZNAROTES ARE MOST NOTABLE FOR HOW MANY WAYS THEY CAN DICK YOU DOWN.

“What are you doing?”

“Holy shit, Lucretia, how do you even know that?”

“That’s not even true.”

IT’S COMPLETELY TRUE.

“Lup, this is a first hand source—it’s an archival document, you can’t just—”

BELOW IS AN EXPLICIT FIRST HAND ACCOUNT FROM MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. FOR I, LUCRETIA, AM NOT ONLY A COMITTED PUBLIC SERVANT, BUT ALSO A SEXUALLY ADVENTUROUS CHRONICLER FOR THE ANALS OF HISTORY. *annals *committe*NO. ANALS.

“Wait,” Lup paused. “Are you spellchecking me?”

“Hm? I’m curious where this is going.”

In the midst of Lup’s shock and delight, the hand let go of Lucretia. “You wanna read some x-rated jungle smut about you?!”

Lucretia pushed the messed up journal toward her, its open pages scattered with their messy, inconsistent joint handwriting. “You can take this with you if you need some time to work on it.”

“Ha, I knew I could make you give up on the boring shit.”

“Oh, no. No, I already wrapped that up.” Her left hand closed the journal it had been writing in and gave the cover a light pat.

Oh, fuck. Lup was so concentrated on messing with Lucretia, she didn’t think about the second book. It never crossed her mind that Lucretia could possibly maintain focus on serious writing with her left hand at the same time that she dealt with Lup being ridiculous on her right. Could it be... Old Lucretia was also a secret badass all along?

“Touché, you slutty annalist. I’m coming back tomorrow night.”

[radioactivedelorean]

21. Stan twins?

21: “If you walk out that door now, don’t bother coming back, because I won’t be here.” - Stan twins

“If you walk out that door now, don’t bother coming back, because I won’t be here,” Stan growled, glaring daggers at his brother.

Ford stopped at the doorway. He had been about to leave after he and Stan had had a rather heated argument. About what, Ford couldn’t even remember now. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I won’t be here if you ever come crawling back.” Stan snapped. “What the hell do you think it means?”

“Well I don’t know,” Ford said vehemently. “It could mean you’re moving house?! That you’re going to go and find somewhere else to live?”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you Sixer?!” Stan spat. “You’d just love it if I left and went and lived in some filthy car somewhere in another part of the country while you lived in a big house in a lovely area with tons of money all on your own! What I meant was that I won’t be here when or even if you come back!”

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“It means that if you walk away and leave me now, I may as well go and off myself since I’ve never done anything worthwhile with my life! I thought bringing you back would have meant something to you, but obviously not,” Stan growled. “The only reason I didn’t off myself long ago is that I had to bring you home. Now that that’s done and now that you still hate me, I may as well just off myself, since it’s not like I have much else to live for!”

Ford was horrified by his brother’s sudden outburst. “W-what…? Off yourself?!”

“You heard me,” Stan muttered. “It’s clear you hate me, and since the twins aren’t gonna be here forever, what’s the point in sticking around? As soon as they go home, their parents are gonna find out that the guy they sent them to live with all summer wasn’t who they thought it was and was actually some worthless, homeless guy who should have died over thirty years ago!”

Ford just got more and more horrified and appalled by what Stan was saying. “Should have died …? Stan..w-why would you think something like that?”

“Because it’s true.” Stan scoffed. “I mean you said it yourself, Poindexter. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with my life and I’ve just been dragging you down this whole time. Heck, you went through thirty years of suffering because of my dumb mistakes. It’s no wonder you hate my guts. At least if I off myself now, I won’t be able to make any more.”

“S-Stan … I don’t hate you. Sure, I was mad at you but I never hated you, Stan.” Ford murmured, feeling his heart drop into his stomach. His brother thought so poorly of himself and it was all Ford’s fault.

“Don’t lie, Ford.” Stan sighed. “I’m a conman, you can’t lie to me. Of course, you hate me.”

“I don’t!” Ford protested weakly, desperate to convince his brother that he didn’t hate him before Stan did anything awful. “I promise, Stan, I don’t hate you. J-just don’t do anything irrational…”

Stan scoffed quietly. “When have I ever done anything rationally in the first place? That’s what’s gotten me into this mess in the first place. I act way before my dumb brain tells me not to. It’s my fault you’re constantly having nightmares. It’s my fault that those kids were almost killed. Heck, it’s my own fault I was homeless in the first place. If I hadn’t been such a selfish brat and broken your project, Pop wouldn’t have kicked me out and you would have been able to go to that good college, rather than whatever shithole you ended up at.”

Ford got more worried the more Stan spoke. “Stan please,” he begged, trying to get through to him. “That wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Sure, I was mad back then but I’m not any more.”

“Why? Because I said I was gonna kill myself once summer was over?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “You hear that I might go and off myself and you suddenly decide you care about me? I don’t need your pity, Ford. I’ve managed fine without it for forty years.”

“Stan don’t you dare even think about… about ending it.” Ford’s voice was stern despite how much it was shaking. “Don’t you dare. Because if you do something like that, I’ll be right behind you. You wanna know why I’m not mad anymore? Because over those thirty years, I had a hell of a lot of time to think about it, and you know what I realised? It was my fault you got kicked out. I made no effort to stop Dad from kicking you out. I’m the one who entered that stupid science fair in the first place. I’m the one who was spouting off about moving to the other side of the country and abandoning our idea of sailing around the world. Abandoning you, Stanley. No wonder you were pissed off at me. You ended up being homeless while I went off to college and managed to get a grant that would allow me to live here in a nice house in a good neighbourhood, while you were living out of your car. Of course you were mad at me when I only asked you to come here so I could ask you to leave again. You had every right to be mad at me when all I did was ruin your life.”

“You didn’t ruin my life, Ford…” Stan murmured.

“I did, and it’s taken me forty whole years to realise that.” Ford’s voice cracked and shook. “I’m so sorry Stan. Please … please don’t leave. Don’t go.”

Stan sighed quietly. He shut his eyes. “…alright…”

Ford rushed forwards, hugging his brother tightly. “Thank you … thank you …” he whispered. He couldn’t bear to lose his brother after all of this. Their petty argument beforehand didn’t even matter anymore.

Stan hugged back with a small smile. He chuckled softly. Hearing his brother say those words was still a relief and a joy to him. “You’re welcome, nerd.”

_____

Prompts list