#Find Lazy Man Grill Parts

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Attention! This slasher!au belong to the lovely @wyervan, who gave me the okay to write a little drabble about their murderous guys bc I'm simply obsessed with them. I hope I did them justice :>

Day 27 - Stalker

Pairing: Slasher!Sun and Moon x/& GN reader Warning: Blood, violence and gore, choking, drug mention Words: 3800+ Summary: It's Halloween and someone stops by to pay you a visit <3

Whoever said that serial killers are the real monsters of this world has probably never worked a minimum wage job at a diner during Halloween. Teenagers were a fucking pain, there was nothing to say about it. Between stupid pranks and annoying messes, they seemed to try and find every possible way to make your living life hell, like you were some kind of lifeless mannequin and not a waiter.

You often had the closing shift during the weekends, along with a coworker of yours, who was as insufferable and as bothersome as some of the teenagers who’d come in during the day. Jake was a douche, there wasn’t much to say; he was immature and lazy, multiple times he had found ways to shove his workload on you and other people, his cigarette breaks lasted longer than your lunch and he would flirt with every woman under 20 that would cross the threshold of the diner. You and he often worked the closing shift together, which meant you cleaned the kitchen and the tables as Jake called his girlfriend on his flip phone while mindlessly sweeping the floor, only managing to move dust bunnies and used napkins from one place to the other.

You heard his voice loud and clear from the kitchen, complaining about some guy who owed him money, when your ears suddenly picked up something you regretted hearing.

-Stop worrying about it, there’s no risk of him telling the cops, he’d get into a lot more trouble than me,- he laughed, -He’s addicted to that shit, he wouldn’t survive a week without me.-

You had heard from a coworker that Jake sold drugs to highschoolers, but you weren’t the type to believe rumors without any proof, so you had never cared much about it. Your eyes glanced up from the grill you were cleaning to see if Jake had noticed you listening in on his private conversation, but the man was too engrossed into pretending to do his job to notice you. You didn’t want to have anything to do with Jake’s deals, you wanted to keep out of his life as much as you didn’t want him to become a part of yours.

Suddenly, someone began knocking on the glass door of the bar, making it rattle loudly and echo through the small diner. You stopped and waited, until a second, louder knock startled you. Jake wasn’t going to open, was he?

You peeked out of the kitchen, looking for your coworker, but he must have disappeared somewhere in the back because you couldn’t see him anywhere in the dining area. He had left the broom behind, of course. 

Looking outside the diner and into the dark parking lot, you saw a tall man standing right in front of the door with a weird jester costume, waiting for someone to open the door for him. He was wearing red and yellow puffy striped pants, a yellow top with red ruffles, and a weird Halloween mask over his face—a white and golden smiling sun, with a crown of golden rays all around.

As soon as the man saw you he stopped slowly swaying on the spot, freezing, and his head tilted to the side in confusion. You had expected teenagers to come and bother you so late, considering it was the 31st, but a grown ass man wearing such a stupid costume? That was simply ridiculous. You tapped the sign on your side of the glass which read “CLOSED” in bold and red letters, but that seemed to not be enough for the clown.

-We don’t do trick or treating here,- you said, speaking loud enough so he could hear you from outside, -If you want candies how about knocking at the door of a house or something?-

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter, but you didn’t hear any sound coming from him, so you simply sighed and turned back towards the kitchen. You wanted to go home, drink something warm, and do a rewatch of the Scream trilogy, nothing else. Why couldn’t that asshole do the same?

The masked man slammed his hand on the glass, making you jump and turn back around, then he pointed towards the broom laying on the floor a few feet away from you. Something clicked in your head, and you stared at him with your mouth agape.

-Wait, are you here for Jake? Are you one of his friends or something?- you asked, and after a moment of hesitation, the man nodded eagerly. You gave him a better look, noticing exactly how much taller than you he was and his lean build—he didn’t fit the depiction of Jake’s clients. Most of them were highschoolers, as far as you were aware.

-Listen, I can’t let you in, but we’re almost closed, so you just wait a couple of minutes and he’s all yours,- you told the man, who gave you a grateful nod followed by a step back into the parking lot. Despite that, that guy unnerved you deeply, he was weird and creepy, and you didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

You decided you could tell Jake to go home and leave you the rest of the work—which you would have ended up doing even if he stayed there—just so you could get rid of the masked loser outside, but when you called his name, you didn’t hear any answer. You walked in the back of the diner, checking even the kitchen to make sure he wasn’t eating any of the leftover fries, but your coworker had disappeared into thin air. 

During your search you found the staff door wide open, letting in the cold night breeze, and when you tried to close it you found that the handle wasn’t working properly anymore. Every time you pushed it closed, the door would creak open once more.

-What the fuck…?-

A sudden sound made you jump out of your skin and turn around in search of the cause, finding only the silence of the dark diner answering back. You were getting uneasy, on edge, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the weirdo right outside the door. Right as you had begun to wonder if he had found a way to get in, a hand grabbed your shoulder and you screamed.

-Jesus, fuck!- yelled Jake as you flinched away from him, -What the hell is wrong with you?!-

Your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your chest, hammering against your sternum like a drum, but when you saw your coworker standing right behind you, you sighed and relaxed.

-You scared me!- You shoved the man away, annoyed, and he reacted by looking at you like you had gotten crazy. -Go tell your stupid friend to leave, he’s creeping me out.-

-Who are you talking about?- he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

-Sun dude, with the mask and clown outfit? Doesn’t that ring a bell? He’s waiting for you outside.-

Jake’s brown furrowed in confusion, then he pushed you away to enter back into the dining area, where you had seen the masked guy. He looked outside, walking towards the glass windows that gave a clear view of the parking lot, which revealed to be completely empty. Jake turned around to glare at you like you had set your pants on fire. 

-Did you take something? Some shrooms?- he asked, and you sighed.

-No, he probably just left. That’s his van, I’m sure, it wasn’t there an hour ago.- You pointed at a white van parked not too far from the door in the parking lot. -Do you recognize it?-

Jake shook his head, still visibly confused by your behavior, and from his stance you could tell that he was also growing tense. His hands were fidgeting and his eyes were scanning the parking lot like a police car was about to pull up and arrest him any minute, but in the end he scoffed. 

-Nah. Whatever, I’m going home,- he said, walking away from the window, -I’m not in the mood for this stuff.-

-I’m serious, there was a guy there!- you replied, but the man didn’t listen, -Also, next time close the door behind you after you go out for a smoke.-

-I haven’t smoked in 3 hours,- Jake retorted, -What are you talking about now?-

-So you didn’t open the back door?- you asked after a pause, feeling a sense of chill spread in your guts, creeping up into your lungs and blocking your airway, -But it’s…?-

The door had been broken. From the outside. Someone had gotten in, and you didn’t even hear it, neither of you did. You and Jake seemed to realize the same thing at the same time, but just as you bolted towards your bag and grabbed your phone, which you had left behind the counter, Jake ran for the main door, slamming it open in a rush. 

-Wait, don’t!- you screamed, but the man didn’t listen to you and headed to his car, which was parked in a far corner of the parking lot. Before he could take more than two steps, the white van rumbled to life, pointing its headlights at him and blinding him in the process. 

-Come back inside!- you screamed, and luckily this time Jake seemed to be willing to listen to you, because as soon as he realized he was about to get run over, he threw himself back into the diner. You grabbed him by one of his wrists and dragged him with you in the kitchen, your only safe space for now. 

The kitchen wasn’t that big; the diner you worked at was just a small local business that had just enough seats for the small population of your town, therefore, there weren’t many places to hide. 

-What the fuck is happening?!- screamed Jake in a panic, but you shushed him, beginning to type the police’s number until a humming sound made you freeze on the spot, -Why did you stop?! We need to…-

-Down!- you hissed, ducking behind one of the grills and bringing Jake down with you, right as light steps echoed in the dining area which you had just left. You listened carefully, kneeling on the cold floor of the kitchen with Jake shaking beside you, one of your hands coming up to cover his mouth. 

Your ears picked on a masculine voice singing something reminding you of a lullaby, slow and gentle, melodic and raspy at the same time. The intruder was singing without a care in the world, entering the kitchen just to stop right on the threshold, lingering on the spot. You peeked your head out from the side of the fryer, trying to get a look at the man but only managing to see a pair of black boots and blue puffy pants covered in stars before your eye was caught by the hatchet he was holding in his gloved hand. Old, rusty, and clipped in many places around the edge, the weapon looked decades old, if not more. You saw the man swinging it mindlessly around, like he was playing with it, still humming that low tune with his deep voice. 

-Someone’s hiding,- he sang, mocking, -Someone’s scared!-

Struggling to keep yourself from making a sound, you hid back behind the fryer, hoping to the heavens that Jake wasn’t about to panic and rat you both out. You sent him a warning glare, but the man was too worried about stopping his hands from trembling to even look in your direction. 

-Which little mouse will have its tail chopped off today, mh?- asked the intruder, beginning to walk slowly around the kitchen, -I heard someone has been behaving badly recently. The Sun told me someone was being naughty…-

Pots and pans were knocked down from the counters, making you flinch and cover your own mouth in fear of letting a sound slip out, and with the corner of your eye, you saw Jake begin crying. 

-Isn’t that right, Jake?- the psycho laughed, beginning to move once more, -Did the Sun lie, or are you actually misbehaving?-

You grabbed one of your coworker’s hands and began to crawl away, forcing him to come along, attempting to get on the other side before you could be seen. 

-Come out, come out, Jake, we just wanna play a game with you.- The man faked disappointment, opening any cabinet big enough to contain a human and making a mess of the kitchen around him as an attempt to drive you out of hiding. A metal lid rolled all the way in front of you, stopping right in your tracks, but being too focused on trying to understand how far the intruder was, you didn’t see it, and you hit it with one of your hands, sending it against the wall with a clang.

-Shit!- you said, standing back up, -Run!-

-There you are!- screamed the intruder, immediately running after you and Jake as you scrambled up on your feet and did everything you could to get away. 

You went back into the dining area, attempting an escape through the broken back door, but just as you turned the corner you found the sun-masked man standing in your way with a metal bat in his hands. While trying to step away from him and avoid his first swing directly aimed at your head, you tripped onto Jake, falling on him and causing both of you to ruin on the ground, hitting your head against the wall in the process. Breathing heavily, you managed to back yourself into a corner, unable to see through the heavy cloud of pain blossoming in your skull as warm liquid dripped down your neck, soaking your work uniform and making you dizzy. Your every breath was painful, your throat and mouth burned dry and your heart was beating out of your chest, deafening you entirely to the screams of your coworker being slammed against the wall beside you by the man with the hatchet. You were barely conscious, enough to distinguish the sun mask kneeling in front of you to observe you better as a crunch echoed through the diner, final in the way it made Jake’s protests and cries come to an abrupt stop.

Blood began to pool on the floor next to you, dripping down the wall where the killer’s hatchet had split open his skull, and the metallic scent hit your senses like a punch in the guts. You suddenly awakened, gasping for air like a starving man, and immediately you flinched when the sun mask leaned closer to your face. You couldn’t suppress the tears pushing out of your ducts, streaming down your face in rivers, and you hiccupped when, during your struggle to push yourself back up, you slipped on the blood with your palms and found yourself face-first in it. 

The murderer with the hatchet, who was wearing a moon-themed mask and a costume matching the other maniac, let go of Jake’s body and let it slide down the wall into a sitting position right beside you, making you scream and stumble back into your corner. 

-Please don’t kill me!- you begged, out of your mind with fear, -P-Please, please, I beg you, please d-don’t kill me, I didn’t do anything w-wrong, I didn’t…-

-Oh, we know, sweetie,- cooed the sun mask, his amused voice so sickly sweet it made you want to gag, -We believe you!- 

You couldn’t understand what was happening anymore. Were you in danger? Were they going to kill you as well? Why did they kill Jake in the first place? You were going mad and couldn’t even bring yourself to think, all you wanted to do was go home and huddle yourself into a warm nest of blankets. You wanted to wake up and find that the horrifying reality you were living in was actually nothing more than a horror film-induced nightmare. 

-We believe you, really,- the sun’s voice came down to a docile whisper as one of his gloved hands brushed against your cheek, making you whine and attempt to curl away from his touch. The gloved fingers were cold—so cold. You wanted to puke. -But I’m afraid we can’t let you go away so easily after seeing what happened here.-

His thumb brushed over your parted lips, spreading a drop of blood like it was a gloss, tinting your lips of a deep crimson color, until his finger pressed on the other side of your jaw. You looked up at the man, wide-eyed, as his other huge hand also wrapped around your throat and slowly began to crush your windpipe with his strength. 

-Too bad,- commented the moon-masked man as he began to lean closer. His entire “face”, chest and arms were covered by blood and brain matter, dark and gooey, drenching his white and black top with it, -Would have loved to play a little game with you, just to pass the time, you know? Unfortunately, we still have morals.-

-Yeah,- laughed the sun, -We don’t go for innocent people usually—not unless they give us a reason to dispose of them, of course. Nothing personal, ‘kay? No hard feelings between us?-

You were choking, flailing your hands around while trying to pry his fingers off and scratching yourself in the process, and as your face began to turn red and your vision began to get spotty, your eyes ran from a masked man to the other, hoping at least one of them would have mercy on you.

-Unless,- whispered the moon to his companion, admiring the beautiful way your unconscious body lost all its strength and fell unresponsive on the ground—still far from death, as shown by the slow rise of your chest, -Unless we let this one leave to tell the tale.-

-There’s no tale, Moon,- replied Sun, sending his friend a glare while also parting his hands from your throat. In a few seconds you were probably going to regain consciousness, so he stood up and aimed his bat at your head, -We already talked about this, leaving witnesses is out of the picture. Also, do you mind doing this for me? I already got blood on my gloves, and you know how much I hate finishing them off.-

-But think better about it!- spoke Moon, leaning against the wall, knowing that Sun was not going to give you the final blow himself, -Everyone is town is already aware there’s a pair of fuckers going around killing people, but don’t you think it would make our job much easier if people really started to fear us?-

Sun let go of the bat just to stare at his companion, speechless, like he couldn’t believe the words the other man had said. 

-No, I actually think that would make our job much more difficult,- he said, and Moon scoffed, -People will begin to think we are merciful, which could not be more far from the truth.- 

-I think it would actually show everyone in this city how things work.- Moon put down his hatchet and crossed his arms over his chest, showing Sun that he was actually completely serious. -Innocents will be allowed mercy, while rulebreakers will receive the chop-chop treatment.-

Sun sighed, running one of his gloved hands through his blonde hair in exasperation. 

-First of all, don’t call murdering people “the chop-chop treatment”, that’s weird. Second, you already killed innocents before, so what’s so different now? Third, do you actually believe people will understand?- It was clear, he still didn’t trust Moon’s plan, but Sun never listened to any plan that wasn’t his own, so that didn’t count. 

-They will, if you allow them to live and warn them,- Moon nodded towards your limp body, -Also, the other times it was an accident, okay? Not everything can always go according to plan!-

You were beginning to regain consciousness, groaning on the floor and gasping for air.

-Shit, they’re awake!- Sun said, -Kill them!-

-No, we’re leaving them behind,- insisted Moon, grabbing his friend’s wrist and pulling him away from you, -Trust me just this once, it’ll work out in our favor.- 

Sun was hesitating, looking at you, slowly waking up, then at his companion. He couldn’t figure out the best course of action, so he just groaned and let himself be dragged away. 

-Alright, just this once!- he allowed, -Consider this a treat, Moon, because it won’t happen ever again!-

The duo left through the broken back door, walking into the dark parking lot and looking around for any car or passerby in sight, while you blinked your eyes open on the bloodied floor of the diner where you were mindlessly taking orders and serving customers just a few hours prior. Your whole body was in pain, your arms felt heavy and sore, while your throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper both on the inside and on the outside. You finally managed to completely open your eyes and stare at the ceiling, still not believing that you were still alive. What had convinced the two killers to spare you? Which one had mellowed the other into showing mercy? You couldn’t say, there were too many things you couldn’t explain to yourself, but as you turned your head around to look at Jake’s lifeless body next to you, your eyes came to an halt on his chest, where the moon—his killer—had left a plastic bag containing a bunch of colorful pills. For a second you felt dazed, until you understood that the two clowns were leaving a clear message. They didn’t like the idea of people selling drugs to highschoolers, and that was probably the same reason why you were left alive, unscathed except for the blossoming bruises the sun’s hands had left on your neck, red and angry against your skin. They had spared you because you hadn’t hurt anyone;  that explained the words the moon guy had told Jake in the kitchen and why you were still allowed to breathe, but it didn’t excuse the viciousness behind the duo’s actions.

The blood around you was expanding, soaking your hair and work shirt as well, and for some reason your first thought was that it felt incredibly warm, like there was some possibility that Jake was still breathing beside you, like his heart could still be pumping blood in his veins, like you could turn around and see him alive and well. Of course, that wasn’t the case.

You had been graced with life, and that night, on the unswept and bloody floor of a diner, you decided you were going to do everything in your power to keep things that way, in case the astral duo ever changed their minds and came back for you. They had spared you once, and you weren’t going to give them a reason to take that gift back.

[xlatrina]

(Pt. II.2) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Chopped (First Half/Second Half)

Cont.

Mr. Chopped is the type to get super lost in his stories. So lost that his face often morphs accordingly based on whatever he’s babbling about.

When he tells you about the state of his missing body, you watch his face morph from shock to sadness, to confusion, to an adorable pout, and then to excitement.

When he tries to explain his first few encounters with Mr. Silvair (which were rough, since Mr. Silvair appears to be the one who separated Mr. Chopped from his body in the first place), Mr. Chopped’s face morphs from fear to distrust to shock to joy.

This little man is just so darn expressive!

His feelings for you grow as you open up to him more and more.

You tell him about your experiences at work, and you tell him about an internship you finished some time ago (relative to whenever you ended up trapped in the Apartments).

You then tell him about some of your hobbies.

When you suggest doing one or two with him, he beams up at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him!

He’s probably blushing so baadddd at the thought of it lol

One-on-one personal time for an even longer period of time than usual???

An activity you enjoy that you choose to only ever share with him and him alone??

Even though he’s just a head and you have literally so many other options who all possess bodies and can get around on their own to at least some extent??!

WHAOXOANALXNDLFLDBAHAGVSBSKCKFLDM

At some point, he convinces you to follow his directions to a particular room. 

When you get there, you find yourself feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Here darkness,” you say. “We together go find light?”

“Is okay,” Mr. Chopped says. “Go that way! Hurry! Fast!”

You listen and approach a small square in the wall.

Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Gap might be in there, but it seems like the hole is empty.

“Enter! Enter!” Mr. Chopped bounces in your grasp excitedly.

You enter the crawl space and pull yourself through.

Soon, the darkness morphs into a faint whitish color.

Your heart jumps at the senses being triggered as you approach.

You finally come across a small hole, and through it, you peer at a sight you haven’t seen in a long time, your mouth agape as Mr. Chopped watches you excitedly.

The sound of clicking on stones draws your eyes to the heeled shoes strutting back and forth past the hole.

There’s the sound of chatter, laughter, shouting, horns, music…

Something smells good. Sooooo good…

Fresh food. Something’s being grilled…

Damn! Your mouth is starting to water!

“This place where?” You ask, pressing Mr. Chopped closer to your face. It was a super small space, after all.

“This place go to other area! Not know where area is, but if possible, me want to go!” Mr. Chopped grins at you, and you can’t help grinning back.

“Wow…” you say. “This is so cool. I wonder if those people will notice me if I reach out to them, though?”

Mentally, you waved the thought away just as quickly as you thought it.

After all, you promised your friends here some weeks ago that you’d stay. And while you could certainly always change your mind, well…

At the moment, you don’t really have a desire to leave.

“I’m happy you decided to share this with me, Mr. Chopped.” You smile sweetly at him.

“What you say? You happy?” He asks. You giggle at him.

“Am happy together we come here. Am grateful you bring me here. Am lots happy!” You say.

Mr. Chopped's face grows into a deep purplish color.

Mr. Chopped lets out a happy sound, his eyes pressing up into a cute squint.

“You happy!! Me lots happy to see you happy!! This place here for you and me now. We come together here now! You understand??” Mr. Chopped asks.

You giggle, and say “Okay, me understand now.”

…

I think I got carried away there LMAO

Anyway, I feel like with all of that being said, after hanging around you for a while and developing a mutual crush, there will eventually come a time when Mr. Chopped gets tired of this long period of unknowing…

Like, you two are OBVIOUSLY super close to each other —much closer than either of you are to anybody else there!

Y’all are at a point where y'all hesitate to even call each other friends!!

And to be so real with you, my guy…

Mr. Chopped has just straight up stopped calling you his friend!!

And it’s kinda awkward for others…

Cuz like… what exactly are you two???

At some point, Mr. Chopped will probably more or less ask you.

“You enjoy me, and me enjoy you. But together we not friends. You and me together what??”

Because you didn’t immediately answer in like 0.02 seconds, he immediately became fussy and demanded to be taken to Mr. Silvair.

And once you take him there, Mr. Chopped dismisses you, so… yeah…

A few days pass and you start to really miss Mr. Chopped.

I mean, he can’t possibly be that mad, right?? What even happened back then anyway to get him so mad in the first place??

You decide to go see him.

You don’t plan on apologizing because, like… what exactly would you be apologizing for??

But!! You want to get to the bottom of your sudden dismissal that day!!

And if come to find out you did offend him somehow, then you’ll apologize—because it most certainly wasn’t your intention.

Anyway, he wasn’t hard to find, thankfully. He was chilling in the lounge next to the infirmary room, which means Mr. Silvair was likely in the operating room doing… Silvair things in there.

He’s nodding off, going in and out of sleep.

It’s literally soooo adorable to look at.

But you’re here on a mission, so no getting distracted!!

Anywho, you startle Mr. Chopped, and he fusses at you accordingly.

But you cut to the chase, demanding to know why he was so upset the other day and dismissed you like that.

He pouts and says something like, “Me give question, and you not answer!” 

Suddenly, he smiles at you. “But is okay, I give answer for you!!”

“Huh?? What you mean?” You ask.

Joyfully, he responds, “You and me together now! You understand?”

OH WOW.

Erm…

Well.

You now have a boyfriend, and that’s just what it is. 

But hey!!

At least your boyfriend is super cute!! And fun!! And connected to a pretty smart, innovative guy like Silvair!

And!! Mr. Chopped absolutely adores EVERYTHING about you!!

You and Silvair are the closest people to him.

But, between you and him…

You’re obviously a little more special to him than Mr. Silvair!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[guessimate]

I wanted to do a BACC, but I decided it was not for me. Instead I’m coming back to the ToT challenge, this time with mortality rolls (sort of). If you want to read the details, they will be at the very bottom of the post. Sensitivity warning: miscarriage, mortality rolls, death in childbirth.

All families start with 9 plots for planting tomatoes, a pond, a fridge, a stove (they may need a grill if you use go hunting spears mod), a counter or two (one for a sink), a dining table, 2 chairs, a tent, an outhouse, and a sofa.

Sims sponge bathe using buckets from Sun&Moon Fetch Water mod, or bathe autonomously in the sink (they also bathe babies in the sink). If they can afford it, they can buy a bathtub, which is very useful for toddlers.

I use a lot of Castaway conversions and some other cc like Dawn of Man tents, and this cauldron. If you like caves, I recommend the cc from this list, especially the Stone Super Set. You may want the iCad version of the bush toilets so they’re less annoying. The leafy outfits are from here (the single leaf is just a maxis career outfit from CAS debug mode) and here are the tutus.

I play with 2 summers, autumn and spring. No winter because it’s an outside challenge, at least in this era. Suggested especially if you play with summer all year round: this mod with the temperature enable option. I play on this map (I always do) and I place my founders’ lots around the big lake.

I start with 5 families and I follow the original challenge rules, but I add my townies as I see fit as the time progresses. I also start with recessive genes just so that they have a chance of appearing in the later generations.

~*~

I played the family of Rosa and Galfrid Wolfen who got a new addition in their family, a son Ishum.

Ishum (Libra): 3 Sloppy, 7 Outgoing, 0 Lazy, 7 Playful, 10 Nice. I think he’s a mix of parents but he’s more similar to his father. He inherited his mother’s eye colour.

Rosa (Sagittarius, Popularity/Family): 3 Sloppy, 0 Shy, 7 Active, 7 Playful, 8 Nice.

Galfrid (Taurus, Knowledge): 5 Neat, 7 Outgoing, 0 Lazy, 8 Playful, and 5 Nice.

~*~

Rosa received a dusty old lamp when she was pregnant with Ishum. Unfortunately, she passed away due to complications related with childbirth.

Rosa was also developing relationships with 2 wolves (not leaders of the pack). I think they’re the only pets in town as for now so if anyone ever wants a pet they’ll need to get these to move in.

Almost right after Rosa died, her grave was struck by lightning during the day, when it was raining. Her ghost started haunting during the day and it happened twice. She was a really active ghost and she scared her husband ~5x. Sadly, he had no wants to see a ghost, despite being a knowledge sim. But he was a very good dad who wanted to teach his toddler to walk, talk and potty train him. The toddler also managed to learn the Nursery Rhyme, so he’s on the way to succeed in life.

I got the toddler a bed, a potty, and a toy.  

I played them for 2 seasons and they got 2 harvests. This family is probably going to end up quite poor since there was only one baby.

They ended up with ~2800$ after this round. I might play the other families like this too for now, as the founders don’t interact with other families till their teen kids need to pair up.

~*~

I know it will not be to everyone’s liking and a lot of people find it triggering… I also don’t like killing my sims off, but I came to the conclusion that I’d rather have my females miscarry if their babies are rolled to die before they reach teenage years.

If a kid survives (but is rolled to die as teen or up), they are born like usual.

That is for my convenience and I like it that there is a custom memory that looks sort of like the one you get when a baby is taken away. I got the miscarriage potion that’s part of the poison mod. The memory compatible with this mod is here (you don’t need all of them, I have only the miscarriage ones and the book object).

I gave each of the founding mothers a secondary family aspiration if her main aspiration was not already family, because I want them to get the miscarriage memory.

I’m using Historical Simmer’s lower class rolls, where you roll 1/6 at toddlerhood, 1/9 at childhood, 1/14 at teenagerhood. If I roll 1, they die.

If mother carries the pregnancy to term, I still roll at childbirth as I’ve always done, and I still prioritize mother’s death [which is unrealistic, but more gameplay-friendly for me]. I’m not sure about what I’m going to do about twins yet. I roll the regular 100. Anything below ~20 means death. I roll 2x (or 3x at twin birth), so the chance is actually quite high.

[sayhwaet]

Whippin' these bastards into shape, as Naesala had termed it, was a tall fucking order – and not one that Beowolf was getting paid enough to do, to boot. 

The gathered border guard were a mish-mash of young and old, eager and sedate, but to a man all of them seemed to believe in the sanctity of his position, and the pride of Faerghus - which, if Beowolf was entirely truthful, was a dangerous thing to be, on top of lazy. A fine line to toe, keeping men what didn't need to be there outta your country, and laziness led to shortcuts, led to impatience and short fuses. 

First thing was first, he supposed – once he rounded up the five men outside of the outpost, and dragged the one inside out to join them (stupid asshole didn't even count himself), he delegated chores what needed doing. Simple shit at first, tidying after themselves, and clearing up stacked boxes which had never been inventoried or ensuring that scrolls of leave and other such paperwork were in a place that made it possible to find. 

He didn't bother to grill them on what the paperwork contained. Too far above his paygrade, teachin' these dancin' monkeys to read. 

But what seemed the most egregious was the state of the supplies they had access to – rust spots flecked chainmail, and holes worn into leather despite there being sand buckets and perfectly fine shipments of jerkins and boots waiting to be sorted and unpacked. 

The good people of Faerghus payin' tithe to a good cause. Beowolf had to snort at the sheer disrespect. 

The better part of the afternoon spent just getting' these clods off their keisters, Beowolf felt a tug on the back of his tunic and had to restrain the urge to roll his eyes – like a child talkin' to an adult. 

"Sir Beowolf - " 

"Ain't no sir, you can keep that shit to yerself." 

That took the boy aback for a moment before he regained himself, shuffling from foot to foot. "Right. Er. Si – Beowolf, what should we do with the Duscur Melonman?" 

"Th. The what." 

It's the Gallagher Principle

[stylesluxx]

let’s get married – s.rogers

[warnings: none!]

summary: in which morgan is curious

word count: 1,179

masterlist

Morgan had been attached to your hip ever since she was born. You were Pepper's assistant turned occasional babysitter since you were the only person she could trust to watch over her daughter. (She was also too lazy and preoccupied to find an actual babysitter.)

But you didn't mind; Morgan was a well-behaved kid and you adored her. She'd sit on your lap and watch cartoons while you filled out paperwork. Or sometimes she'd sit in the red beanbag chair you bought her just for your office, but she always preferred your lap.

When you met Steve, you were bringing Morgan to Tony's office and the two men were sitting across from each other in the middle of a heated discussion.

Glass windows kept their conversation private but anybody that walked by could tell it was tense. Morgan being a child, couldn't tell they were in the middle of an important meeting as she ran into the office.

But her presence was welcomed; you could practically see the tension dissipate as both Tony and Steve lit up at the sight of her, smiles adorning their faces. They looked just like kids in a candy store.

"Sorry, she's too fast for me to keep up sometimes," You apologized once you walked into the office.

"Yeah well, she's a Stark so that's a given," Tony shrugged, making you playfully roll your eyes. "But thanks for bringing her in just in time for lunch."

"Yeah, no problem. Pepper says no sweets," You reminded him as he picked up Morgan and placed her on his lap, ruffling her hair once she was settled.

"Gotcha. See you tomorrow?"

You nodded and went to leave the office but were stopped by the other man in the room. "Wait, Tony, you're not going to introduce me to your friend?"

"She's hardly my friend-"

"Tony. We're friends," You cut him off and turned to face Steve. "I'm Y/N, Pepper's full-time assistant and Morgan's part-time babysitter."

You extended your hand for him to shake and he stood up with a smile before taking your hand in his and shaking it.

"And a full-time pain in my-"

"I'm Steve," He smiled.

"I know. Nice to meet you, Steve," You smiled back, not taking your eyes away from his blue ones. "This is so gross."

As you let go of Steve's hand, you turned to face Tony. "Don't be a jerk, Tony. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," He nodded and playfully shooed you off with the flick of his hand.

"See you tomorrow," Steve added, making you lift your eyebrow at his words.

Steve was hardly ever in Tony's vicinity, let alone office, which was why this was your first time meeting despite being Pepper's assistant for years. You were shocked that he'd be around tomorrow but you didn't show it.

"Okay," You chuckled before giving him a smirk. "See you tomorrow." Two years later, here you were sleeping on the couch with Morgan sleeping on top of you. The Corpse Bride played in the background as you two took your daily, after-school nap.

Steve wasn't supposed to be home for at least another week, but when he walked into your shared apartment and saw you and Morgan, he was happier than usual to be home.

As she heard the door shut, both you and Morgan opened your eyes. She peeled herself up to look at who just walked in but you knew it was Steve, so you just shut your eyes and tried to drift back into your nap.

"Uncle Steve?" She mumbled, her small voice groggy.

"Hey Squirt," You heard him greet her and you could practically see the smile on his face despite your eyes being closed.

"'m hungry."

He chuckled before saying, "okay," and offering her a grilled cheese.

When you finally decided to get up maybe an hour later, you could hear Morgan going on about a story her friend told her at school.

Her friend, Candace, was the flower girl at her aunt's wedding and all the girls in her class were jealous of her.

But Morgan was a Stark and she'd find a way to get what she wanted.

"So, since my friend was a flower girl at her aunt's wedding, I can be the flower girl at your wedding right, Uncle Steve?"

Your eyes shot open and you sat up abruptly at the question. "What's going on?"

"Aunt Y/N, when are you and Uncle Steve getting married?" Morgan asked from her seat on top of the island.

"Uh..."

"You don't know?"

Your cheeks grew hot and your eyes grew wide. You were shocked by the question and somewhat embarrassed by the fact that a child was concerned with your love life.

"Why won't you marry my aunt?" Morgan turned to Steve.

He choked on the air he gasped in causing Morgan to push his glass of water closer to him, but she still kept a serious face, obviously wanting answers.

"Morgan how about-" A knock on the door stopped you from your attempt to change the conversation. "Right on time," You mumbled and speed walked to the front door.

Steve got his breathing back together and helped Morgan put her shoes and backpack on while you answered the door.

"How was she?" Tony asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"She was really curious today but well behaved as always."

Steve bounded over to you two, Morgan resting on his right hip and his left arm wrapping around your waist.

"Well, you guys look like a right happy family!" Tony teased before gently taking Morgan into his arms and kissing her cheek.

You and Steve awkwardly chuckled and then you scrunched your face in discomfort.

"Well, technically we are family-"

"No, Y/N's family. You two aren't married yet so-"

"Bye Morgan!"

You were quick to shut the door in Tony's face, not wanting to hear any more talk about marriage.

You shuffled over to the couch and plopped face down, beyond drained from the topic of the day.

"Hey, don't hurt yourself," Steve chuckled and sat next to you. He lifted your legs off of the couch cushion and set them on his lap then softly began patting your calves.

You sat silently for a moment, it wasn't awkward on your end but you knew Steve was trying to come up with something to say.

"We can get married Y/N. I don't want you to think I don't want to marry you because I do-"

You flipped on your back so you could look at him as you talked. "Don't feel pressured to say this. I'm okay with not being married right now. You're still out fighting bad guys, I don't think it's the best time to settle down anyway."

"There's-there's no pressure, I just need you to know. We can get married whenever we want to. I'm ready- well actually I'm not because I don't have a ring and I haven't spoken to your dad-"

"I understand, Steve," You laughed and watched his cheeks turn red.

"Let's get married, Y/N."

"Someday."

[AN: this has been in my notes since like 2019 and I really just needed to get this done and posted. I've written this so many different times, deleted it and started over, but this is the final product. if you want to join my taglist, here’s the link to the info page]

[tags: @vixen102006​ @weallneednamjesus​ @nlost21​ @bywie​ @azazel-nyx​ @coldmuffinduckling]

[shorkbrian]

i’m sorry but i luv your writing/thot process so i have to share this: imagine superstar trainer kiri marrying ur mom. he’s only a few years older (and you had a crush on him first) so you avoid him bc you’re shy/uncomfortable with it. your plans are foiled when mom’s away and y’all are stuck at home during a snow storm, power out, no heat/gas, and no matter how many layers u use nothing beats body heat. kiri is so sweet and just wants to get close and keep you warm/see whats under ur sweats

I’m literally melting rn 

Like imagine Kiri shuffling closer to you on the couch, scooting underneath the blankets you have piled around your body.

He keeps getting closer and closer and closer until he’s pressed up against you, and he feels like a heater, warm and cozy and comfortable. You don’t mind burrowing down into his side a bit, only blushing a little when the big man chuckles at your behavior.

There’s a movie playing on the TV, but you’re kind of sleepy, and your stepdad feels so sturdy and safe against your side, and you’re finally warming to a comfortable temperature, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

When you wake up, you’re laying down on a solid surface, heat wrapped around your body and trapped beneath the blankets. The surface rumbles and shifts, and only then do you realize that Kirishima must have moved you.

The room is dark, TV off, lights out. The wind is still howling and moaning outside like a mourner at a grave, beating against the windows and crying to the sky.

Lifting your head means you get a view of Kiri’s face, of his handsome, relaxed self as he gazes down at you, a pleased, soft smile on his features.

You go to apologize for falling asleep on him and for inconveniencing him, but Kirishima doesn’t let you. “It’s warmer this way, plus, I like holding something while I sleep.”

He has his arms wrapped around you, thick biceps pressing heavy against your shoulders, keeping you flush to his muscular chest. You blush a little at the position, shifting your legs and trying not to do anything weird.

But in moving your legs around, you find yourself straddling his thigh, the stocky limb flexing underneath your weight, Kirishima twitching.

“Sorry-” You blush again, intending on moving, but your stepdad drops a hand to your hip, steadying you.

“No, don’t apologize, I get it.” He winks at you, before jiggling his thigh a bit, settling you down further onto it. “I remember doing stuff like this back in high school, I know it feels good.”

A long moment of silence stretched between you two as you processed his words, feeling increasingly awkward.

“Um, okay...” Was all you could come up with.

Kirishima laughed a bit. “You’ve never cuddled with anyone before? It’s nice, isn’t it? ‘Specially with the heat out like this. Power went out while you were sleeping.”

You felt a little silly now, ducking your head and dropping your gaze. That would explain why the lights were off. You had just assumed the movie had finished playing and your stepdad had turned it off, but apparently that wasn’t the case. 

“Temp’s gonna drop fast, we’re probably going to have to use good ‘ole body heat while we sleep. You wanna move to the bed? Or just sleep here?”

A shrug, and Kirishima smiled. “Okie-doke, bed it is. Thank goodness, my back would kill me if I tried to sleep on the couch. Gettin’ old s’no fun.”

The man sat up, and you quickly disentangled yourself from him, ignoring the way his thigh rubbed in between your legs as he moved about. As soon as you felt the chill of the room, you shivered, clacking your teeth together and snatching the blanket tight around yourself.

“Oh, that’s so cold, fuck.”

“Hey, watch your language-” Kirishima chided, rising to his feet as he gathered the rest of the blankets up into his arms. “No potty mouths in this house, yeah? Keep it clean.”

He’d been married to your mom for almost a year now, and Kirishima had easily fallen into the “father figure” role, despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily needed.

But you indulged him by laughing at his corny dad jokes, complimenting the various meats he grilled for meals, keeping your judgements about his questionable fashion choices to yourself instead of blurting them out to his face.

Kirishima led the way to the master bedroom, the room he shared with your mom, stating that the bed was bigger, it’d be more comfortable. Did you really expect him to fit into your bed?

He was a big man, strong and solid. He was able to throw you over one shoulder, your mom over the other, and run around the house whooping while the two of you laughed and pounded on his back.

“Alright-” Kirishima tossed his armful of blankets onto the bed he shared with your mom, immediately fluffing them up and pulling at the edges until he was satisfied.

The man pulled back the edge, holding it ups as he turned to you. “Head on inside!”

It was cold at first, the sheets and blankets chilly. You snuggled up to Kirishima as soon as the big man laid down, making him laugh a bit as your teeth chattered together.

“S-sorry it’s just so-so c-cold.” You explained.

“Your nose is all red, you look so cute.” His smile is warm, his hands even warmer as they begin to rub up and down your sides.

You don’t know how to respond, let yourself relax into the comforting touch, his fingertips dancing over your sweater.

“So.....” Kiri starts “You’ve never had a boyfriend then? You got so quiet when I asked if you’ve cuddled with someone before.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you shook your head. “No, I have. I broke up with him a little bit before you and mom started dating.”

The redhead’s quiet for a moment, then tucks his chin over your head, drawing you closer into his chest. “I’m sorry. Relationships can be hard, I know.”

“It was for the best, I think.” You continue, letting your stepdad rub your back as you talked. “We just didn’t really jive well together I guess. Wish we’d figured that out sooner though.”

The man pressed against you is so sturdy, solid and radiating heat like a furnace. It’s easy to relax in his easy-going presence.

“Well, if you ever miss cuddling, don’t hesitate to come find me, yeah? It’s one of my favorites.”

Kirishima was a touchy man, and it was obvious that his love language was touch, so it made sense. He always had his thick arms wrapped around your mom, was holding her hand, holding yours, placing kisses on your cheeks, kissing your mom every chance he got.

Sometimes he asked you to brush out his hair for him, when you weren’t busy or anything. He’d relax into jelly as you ran the hairbrush through his red locks, contented little sighs falling from his lips.

“Okay, I’ll do that.” You chuckle, thinking to yourself how the world had a funny sense of humor.

Truthfully, when you’d first been introduced to the man your mom had recently started dating, you’d developed a hopeless crush. He was attractive, kind, funny; if your mom wasn't dating him, you would’ve asked for his number.

A small part of you was irritated that the man was young enough for you to date him, your mother unbothered by the sugar stereotype she’d developed.

But ah well, what’s done is done.

“You know, I didn’t know what I'd be like having a daughter.” Kirishima soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “You’re almost more like.... I dunno, a friend? If that makes sense. I feel like we’re buddies.”

“Yeah, I feel like that too.” You confess, breathing into his neck, able to smell the cologne he uses, something heady and strong and manly.

A comfortable silence settles around you both, nothing but soft breaths and Kirishima’s warm hands rubbing gently over your body, against your sides, up and down your back, massaging your shoulders.

They traveled too close to your tummy, and you choked out a laugh, flinching away from Kirishima.

“Don’t, ‘m ticklish.” Came your breathless, giggly warning.

“Yeah? Yeah?” The redhead grinned, a glint in his eye, barely noticeable before he pounced, rolling over until you were smothered beneath his hefty weight, unable to move.

Horrible, terrible fingers descended, dug into your ribs and you shrieked, wide smile breaking across your features as your stepdad tickled you.

This is what happiness was made of.

Warm and fuzzy, the smell of rain, the sound of it pattering against the roof. Strong arms around you, a laugh on your lips.

Kirishima’s thigh slipped in between yours, pressed upwards, and you choked on a breath, hands immediately clutching at the man’s biceps.

“You’re so sensitive, it’s so cute.”

No time to say his name, ask any questions. He was situating you on your side, legs tangled with his, a big, beefy thigh still flush against your clothed sex.

“Mm, you ever do this with your boyfriend?” The redhead was moving, hands gripping your waist now, dragging you along his thigh, and you kept bumping up against his chest, his toned stomach.

“Yes-yeah.” Was your breathless reply, head whirling, eyes wide. This isn’t really what you were expecting, not from your stepdad.

But it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

That’s why you weren’t screaming your head off, recoiling in disgust, scrambling for the phone to call your mom, the police.

No, you were still, pliant against Kirishima as he moved your body, his lazy red eyes fixed on your face. “Hm? Feels nice, doesn’t it? You like it?”

A shaky nod is all you can muster, feeling yourself beginning to drip against your stepdad’s thigh, slick all over your folds, the skin tingling, making your hips jump as your clit pulsed at the stimulation.

God, it felt good.

“You make me so happy, y’know? Such a pretty, smart girl.” He praised, and now you could feel it - feel the cock filling out against your tummy, hot and wet, leaking.

“I really hit the jackpot. A beautiful wife, a gorgeous daughter... I love you so, so much.” Kirishima was breathing heavier, his fingers digging into your hipbones as he dragged you back and forth against him. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Just wanna take care of you, yeah?  Make you cum lots, whatever you want.”

Almost feverish now, his hips twitching forward, pushing against your tummy again and again, rubbing his cock against your soft flesh, groaning in your ear, breath stuttering-

And then a long moan, a burst of warmth soaking through your pajama shirt, right where the tip of Kiri’s cock rested.

“Oh shit-” He gasped, sucking in air, muscles flexing as he drew back his legs, hands shakily pushing you onto your back.

“That - Jesus, you really got me goin’.” Kiri panted, beginning to kiss at your neck, one of his hands diving into your pajama pants, straight down to strum over your clit.

Already keyed up from the dry humping, veins pumping with excitement, arousal, the thrill of being touched and fondled by your-your stepdad.

A finger teased at your hole, then inched inside, and you bucked your hips, crying out a bit.

“Hey, hey-” He was still a little breathless, a little lightheaded from his orgasm, but the man was determined. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I got you. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.”

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Just My Type - The Unexpected Visitor (Strange x Reader)

The Unexpected Visitor - Rated T

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

Request: NO

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: Brief language, implied suggestive content

Summary: Takes place BEFORE the events of Just My Type (read HERE). As a fellow sorcerer at the Sanctum Sanctorum, you've grown used to unexpected chaos. What exactly happened to get Stephen so jealous during that visit from Thor?

You were in the kitchen when you initially heard the commotion. It was around lunchtime and both you and Stephen had felt a bit peckish. Speaking of the great Sorcerer Supreme, he was supposed to help you with preparing the meal. As great of a cook as you were, no amount of magic would have helped you juggle three tasks at once – even if it wasn’t banned by a certain librarian. Wong always was hesitant to grant the two of you sorcery privileges outside of battles and training. 

“One must not become overly dependent on your abilities,” he had warned once. “If you rely on spells to complete simple tasks, you will give into the temptation.”

“Ah, yes,” you couldn’t help but snicker as you gave your best Yoda impression. “Temptation, greed, laziness…a sorcerer craves not these things.”

As per usual, the librarian was not amused. 

Unfortunately (and a little too conveniently, you might add), Stephen claimed he had a matter to attend to before he could join you at the table. There was a clatter at the front door as you flipped another grilled cheese on the pan. You weren’t expecting company that day, but that idea was put to rest as the Cloak of Levitation zoomed through the kitchen door to find Stephen. His matter must have something to do with the company, you realized a few minutes later. Allowing curiosity to overtake you, you risked a glance into the hair to reveal a familiar head of long blonde hair.

“Thor Odinson,” Stephen’s low gravelly voice echoed against the halls as he floated throughout the Sanctum to greet his guest. There was the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. It was almost as if he was pleased to have caught the Norse god off guard. “God of Thunder. You can put down the umbrella.”

A grin spread across your face and you set the tray of sandwiches down to skip into the Sanctum’s room of archives. Thor’s hair had grown out even more since you last saw him in Sokovia. “Thor!” you exclaimed as you neared the man to hug him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today. What brings you to our humble abode?”

After years of grief from your parents’ car accident, you had gone on a trip of self-discovery, where you met the Ancient One and Baron Mordo. You had used the Mystic Arts to protect numerous innocent lives, assisting the Avengers on occasion. In fact, you had been a founding- and youngest- member of the Avengers. You fought side-by-side with the Norse god and your compatriots during the Chitauri invasion of 2012. When an unexpected injury rendered you useless on the sidelines after Germany, you turned your attention back to the teachings of Kamar-Taj. It ended up being for the best, as you were able to return to maintaining a secret identity before needing to sign the Accords. 

You were delighted to hear Thor deliver his usual chipper greeting to you, the one where he referred to you as Asgardian royalty. “It appears I have been summoned,” he remarked. “Shortly after I witnessed my brother be swallowed up by an orange circle.”

Stephen cleared his throat from behind you, suddenly alerting you of his presence. “Yeah,” he admitted, “that would have been me.”

“So earth has, uh, wizards now, hm?” the blonde-haired man chuckled to himself. He allowed his fingers to trace along the edges of each Shard of Gaea, which were settled on a nearby mahogany table. He looked to enjoy the smooth feeling of the crystal against the skin. It didn’t take long for him to apply too harsh of a touch. The fragile pieces slid onto the table below. No matter how hard he attempted to fix it, Thor couldn’t help but sheepishly grin as the entire display ended up on the wooden surface. 

You had to cover your face with your hand in order to prevent a snort from slipping out. 

“The preferred term is ‘Master of the Mystic Arts,’” Stephen corrected in a terrible attempt to continue the conversation with a nonchalant tone. “You can put that down now.”

“Alright, wizard. Who are you? Why should I care?” Thor gestured to you. “And when did you take this one from their home? Surely Midgardians are now far above kidnapping for pleasurable services.”

You nearly choked. “We’re-” you stuttered. “We’re not together, Thor.”

Stephen, however, managed to remain unfazed from the comments. “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange and I have some questions for you. Take a seat.” He levitated into his favorite armchair. He then rested his head against one of his brown leather gloves. “Tea?”

“I don’t drink tea .” Thor replied, rather indignantly, as if he was appalled by the fact the Sorcerer Supreme even suggested he try the beverage. He eyed the teacup in his hand with a calculating and narrow stare. Even you could tell that it was much too small and dainty for a man of his size. 

“Then what do you drink?” Stephen asked again.

“Not tea.” You watched with a smirk as the teacup transformed into a transparent glass stein that settled in his right hand. The liquid followed soon after. While you thought it looked like a beer, you knew far too well that it was a much stronger elixir: a brew strong enough to give even the more stubborn of Norse gods a late night buzz. 

“So I keep a watchlist of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world,” Stephen’s serious tone and stare cut through the God of Thunder. You felt a bit uncomfortable from your position against the wall. “Your adopted brother, Loki…is one of those beings.”

“A worthy inclusion.” Thor nodded in approval as he finished the first stein. The solemn look was replaced by furrowed brows and an intense stare as he curiously watched the glass container refill on its own. 

You couldn’t help but agree. The last time the blonde’s adopted brother came to visit the planet, he had attempted global domination. Half of New York had paid the price for his greed. Restoration crews had increased their fees, making the clean up even more Your team hadn’t been without grief, either. Phil Coulson had given his life that day. He was killed by Loki’s hand. Needless to say, it was definitely a good idea to have him on the watchlist.  

“Then why bring him here?” Strange leaned closer, eyebrows knitting together.

“We’re looking for my father.” Thor responded very matter-of-factly as he raised the stein back to his lips again. 

“So…if I were to tell you where Odin was, all parties concerned would promptly return to Asgard?” Stephen.

“Promptly.” Well, that was certainly a relief. 

“Great!” Stephen leans back in the seat, a pleased smile across his features. “Then I’ll help you.”

“If you knew where he was, then why didn’t you call me?” Thor frowned at the sorcerer before him. 

“I have to tell you, he was adamant that he not be disturbed,” Stephen replied. “Your father said he had chosen to remain in exile.” 

“Hm…” Thor was having a difficult time believing his explanation, you could tell. 

“And you don’t have a phone.” Stephen continued. 

“No…I don’t have a phone,” Thor conceded. “But you could have sent, uh, uh, an electronic letter. It’s called an email?”

“Yeah, do you have a computer?” you asked him gently. In the entire time you knew the Asgardian, he had never shown an interest in modern technology. Perhaps his position changed after the little show-down between the Avengers over the Accords. 

Thor shook his head with a raised eyebrow. “No, what for?” 

“Uh huh...” Stephen wasn’t impressed by any means.

“Anyway,” Thor continued with a tight smile and an additional sip, “my father is no longer in exile, so if you could tell me where he is, I can take him home.” 

“Gladly. He’s in Norway.” Stephen rose to his feet and waved his hands to send the three of you to another part of the Sanctum. He held a large text in his hands, a collection of ancient spells in a language you couldn’t understand. “Just seeing whether this incantation requires any Asgardian modifications….” He muttered, rifling through the pages. A moment later, he glanced up and snapped the book shut. “Nope!”

The scene around you shifted again and you almost stumbled into one of the many shelves in the library. You placed your hand on Thor’s shoulder in order to balance on your feet. Your fellow Avenger appeared a bit disoriented, as well, but still opted to poke along the shelves. His hands found a copy of Vashanti’s Protection Spells; Volume I , which caused you to smile. 

“One of the strongest sorcerers in all of history,” you remarked with a nod. Reaching out for the book, you took a step closer to show Thor some of the illustrations included. “Good luck reading it, though. Sanskrit is incredibly tricky…even for Google Translate.” 

“Oh, we don’t need that.” Stephen’s voice called when he noticed your attention was elsewhere. He was greatly enjoying messing with the God of Thunder at this point, but he had required an audience. There was a smug smirk that you noticed quivering against his lips as he walked past.

Thor put down the stein rather abruptly onto the bookshelf. “Will you stop…doing that?”

“Stephen,” you tried to reason. “You know what happens when you excessively transport throughout a space-”

“Can I…I need a…just���one strand of your hair.” Stephen ignored your reasoning, clearly amused by the entire situation. 

Oh god, you thought to yourself. This won’t end well. You remembered life in Avengers Tower when Thor would visit. No one could use the bathroom for hours on end. Every strand of hair needed to be perfect or else it would be a dark and stormy night in New York.

“Let me explain something,” Thor’s tone was hard-pressed now. He lifted his index finger as he reprimanded the Sorcerer Supreme. “My hair is not to be meddled with- OW.”

Without another word, Stephen took the singular strand and began to spin it into a spell. Even though you had been practicing the Mystic Arts for years, the simplicity of magic in the air was awe-inspiring. Your stare was short-lived, however, as you were sent skidding down the main staircase. Stephen had sent the three of you back into the foyer, although he appeared more focused on generating a portal to get the hunky man out of his house. 

“We could have just walked,” Thor remarked as he brushed the nonexistent dirt off of his olive green jacket. He leaned down to help you up. You were grateful for his increasingly firm grip as you were lifted back to your feet. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Not the first time I’ve fallen down on these things.”

 A small smile flickered across Thor’s features. “If my memory serves me correctly,” he replied, not loosening his grip, “you were the most clumsy.” He chuckled again. “And so very tiny.”

“Okay, that’s not fair and you know it. Bird boy tripped me on purpose! I wouldn’t have fallen into that fountain if it-”

“He’s waiting for you,” Stephen’s voice was void of any emotion now as he interrupted your conversation. He glanced over and nodded his head toward the open portal – a lush green meadow with a cloudy and blue sky. 

“Alright.” Begrudgingly, Thor released his grip on your wrist. There were a few quick breaths as he briefly shut his eyes. You couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen Odin- the real Odin- in years. It probably wasn’t going to be the easiest of reunions. “It was nice to see you again,” he gave you a nod after speaking your full name. 

“Ah, don’t forget your umbrella,” Stephen glances behind Thor as he says this, almost as though he forgot where it was placed early on.

“Oh yes,” Thor held out his right hand again, remaining silent in concentration. There was a chorus of shattering glass and ceramic as Mjolnir, disguised as an umbrella, soared through the Sanctum Sanctorum. Why Thor chose to mask his unique hammer, you had no idea. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be recognized without it. “Sssssssssorry,” looking entirely unapologetic as the disguised weapon flew into his hand. He brushes the shards of glass off and onto the floor, causing a frustrated groan to escape your lips.

“I just swept the floors yesterday,” you lamented. “Wong’s going to kill me.”

“And I suppose I’ll need my brother back.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Stephen took a step back and began a circular motion toward the ceiling to conjure an orange portal. A second later, you heard a yell as Loki fell onto the tiled floor, greasy haircut and all. 

“I HAVE BEEN FALLING,” he shouted, “FOR THIRTY MINUTES.”

“You can handle it from here,” Stephen said to Thor. 

“Yes, of course,” Thor nodded. “Thank you very much for your help.”

“Good luck,” although Stephen’s attitude had been bitter throughout the visit, you could tell he still did care about what happened with Odin. The two of you had discovered he was staying at Shady Acres Retirement Home months ago. Strange had sent you undercover to make sure the man was taken care of, leading to him developing a special connection with him as well. They’d meet for tea and discuss any potential mystical threats – especially those from other realms. 

“Handle me?” Loki gaped. He unsheathed knives from his person, falling into a battle stance. That’s when he locked eyes with you. “You. I remember you.” He tilted his head to appear menacingly. “The last time we met–”

“I kicked your ass,” you interrupted him. “How’d that concrete taste?”

“No better than the bitterness of blood your fellow soldier tasted.” The God of Mischief gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, how I’ve missed this. The Midgardian banter. You must think yourself ever so clever. Well I assure you that the next time we meet, I will not be so disadvantaged.”

“Loki…” Thor warned in true big brother fashion. 

Yet Loki didn’t stop. He turned his attention back to the Sorcerer Supreme. “And you. You think you’re some kind of sorcerer. Now don’t think for one minute you second-rate-”

“Alright, bye bye.” Stephen moved the portal to collect both Thor and Loki. It is only the two of you remaining in the Sanctum now. 

“Well, that was fun,” you said sarcastically.

All you received in return was a slow eye roll from Stephen. “You certainly enjoyed yourself. Catching up with an old ‘friend.’ You never told me you knew the Avengers.”

You shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Besides, I didn’t see how it was relevant.”

When Stephen didn’t respond, you stood in the foyer and glanced around the room. Easily growing accustomed to the returning silence, you let out a sigh. “I’ll go get the broom,” you said to no one in particular. 

This would certainly be an interesting clean up. . . 

==========================

Author's Note: Welcome to the sequel that nobody asked for but I'm posting anyway!! To celebrate over 1,000 hits(!!) of this fic over on my AO3 (frostandflames), I thought it would be fun to expand upon this oneshot.

I have to admit, this was way too much fun to write! Benedict and Chris H's interactions were just gold in this scene. I almost didn't want to insert the Reader character in because I wasn't sure what I could do to expand it. But I'm so glad I did, because it brought us here. Thank you all again for the support on all of my works. I really appreciate every single one of you -- without readers like you, I'm pretty sure I'd still be staring blankly at a page just wishing I could write fics like this for others.

As usual, don't forget to leave a like, a comment, and a reblog. It really helps me out and lets me know what other content you'd like to see on my blog! :)

[wellhellotragic]

Love If It's Torture 2/?

Summary: Emma Swan’s life is a disaster; the culmination of one poor choice after another nearly causing her ruin. Dramatic? Perhaps, but then again, arriving late to work only to find her one-night-stand introducing himself to everyone at the firm calls for nothing less than a full emotional breakdown.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I'm still working on the ending so not regular updates just yet, but I didn't want to wait anymore to post up this one...

AO3

She rises with the sun, her body not quite having received the message that it’s Saturday and there’s no work. But her head has other ideas and screams for pain killers. It’s not until she’s up, moving to the medicine cabinet in her bathroom to muddle around for some aspirin that memories of the night come flooding back. It’s ever-so-slight soreness that sends flashes of blue through her mind.

She drank. And she had sex.

There are two missed calls from Mary Margaret, six missed calls from Ruby and eighteen text messages waiting for her on her phone when she comes back into her bedroom. They start off banal - get it girl - but become more panicked as she reads through. She barely has time to make it through the full string of texts before there’s another incoming call.

“Oh thank God. You answered this time. Wait, this is Emma right? You aren’t some creep who  just murdered her and stole her phone, right?”

Emma cringes at the pitch in her friend’s voice willing her aspirin to kick in faster.

“Yes, it’s me. No, I wasn’t murdered. And why are you calling so early? Has Junior even had time to find all of his clothes yet?”

“I told you, his name is Billy, and he left hours ago. Emma, it’s after one. You missed lunch with your sister-in-law.”

She pulls her phone back, noting that it was in fact much later than she’d realized. 

“Shit, I forgot to set an alarm.”

It’s another reminder that she’s getting older and can’t hold her liquor quite as well as she once did, and recovery requires far more sleep and hydration now.

“So I take it you didn’t stay the night with your brooding mystery man last night or I’m sure he would have given you a wake up call. Did you even get his name this time?”

“No and no.

She’s not a gossip. And while Ruby has never been shy about sharing the details of her conquests, and Emma’s never been too prudish to listen, she’s just never been into reciprocating. This part of their friendship is very one-sided, or at least it has been since Neal stomped on her heart and Ruby gave her the I-told-you-so she never asked for.

Her friend knows better than to keep prodding, but she can almost feel her pouting on the other side of the line. They only talk for a little longer, making Sunday Funday brunch plans at the new outdoor beer garden. She walks by it occasionally on her way home from the metro line to her apartment, and the idea of German food seemed less than appealing at first, but last week she saw someone diving onto a grilled cheese sandwich and she hasn’t been able to get it out of her mind since.

Her call to Mary Margaret is less casual. She loves her brother’s wife dearly, or as much as she’s capable of loving someone at this point in her busted up life, but they’re very different people. Emma’s life was never sunshine and butterflies, she was never homecoming queen or head cheerleader. She’s not anyone’s champion, and she’s certainly not pushing anyone to find their soulmate every chance she gets.

But she knows Mary is just trying her best to be a supportive friend and family member. Sometimes it’s too much though, like now, when Mary is grilling her about why she missed lunch, and what, or who, could have possibly kept her up so late that she slept until one.

She dodges the best she can, inviting her to come to brunch as an apology for missing lunch, and hangs up the phone, feeling emotionally exhausted. 

The shower that follows helps more than she expected, the warm water washing away the remnants of her caked on makeup she’d been too lazy to wash off. Too bad it can’t wash away her sins too. 

Emma refuses to think of Neal, or about the man who vaguely looked like him from across the street until he turned around, or to think about how she spireled last night. She also tries her best not to think about the man that had her pressed against a wall either, but when she turns the water off and goes in search of clothes, opening her underwear drawer she blushes. More than anything, she hopes whichever pair of panties she wore last night were at least sexy since he kept the damn things, although she’s not thrilled at thinking it may have been one of her more expensive pairs.

Most of the day is spent sitting on the couch with takeout food, binging shows she’s seen a million times before. It gives her head a break though, just something mind numbing that doesn’t require any thought or brain power. Her job has become stressful enough to give her occasional migraines, and as much as she’d like to continue being the workhorse she’s always been, the last year has taught her to refocus and to compartmentalize her work life from her home life, if nothing else for her own sanity. 

It doesn’t help that her boss hates her and has been looking for reasons to fire her, despite her being a nearly perfect employee, and it also doesn’t help that she has a client that absolutely insists that the only time he can meet to sign contracts is at 8pm on a Saturday night. Especially when said client has been more than obvious about his intentions towards her as a woman. 

So she lets herself have this time to rest and recharge. Even then, she’s just not ready for a night of rebuffing his advances and coming up with new reasons not to date him, because it’s against company policy doesn’t seem to be a good enough reason for him.

No one would have to know about it, Emma.

God does she hate him, almost as much as the fact that she’s having to get dressed up to meet with him. Heaven forbid her boss find out that she was arriving to work events in sweatpants. 

So on comes her black button up linen shirt and her least flattering pair of trousers, except that as she’s putting them on, she notices a small tear in the crotch, the absolute last message she wants to be sending her grabby client. She’s nearly running late at this point and doesn’t have time to rethink her top, so she goes for the nearest thing, a black leather skirt, and heads out the door, shoes still in hand. 

She could drive, but the idea of finding parking on a weekend night in Boston might be the only thing worse than having to meet Walsh at his showroom. The MBTA is a huge mistake though. It only takes seconds after finding a seat for a random man to find his way over to her, using the handrail to position himself just so that his junk is next to her face. If the train wasn’t packed, she’d roll her eyes and move, but everyone is stuffed like sardines, and she closes her eyes and listens for her stop. 

He’s still there, and if she elbows his junk while standing up, so be it, and there’s a small bit of satisfaction in the way he doubles over in pain. Her joy is short lived though when she checks her phone and sees that Walsh has changed their meeting from his showroom to a restaurant down the street from his office and she wants to scream at his audacity. 

But she’s a professional, so she goes. He drags the diner out, attempts to ply her with wine and gets even more brazen when she refuses. And he still doesn’t sign the damn contracts. She’s about two seconds away from grabbing the rest of the wine bottle and pouring it over his head, but resists, even after he suggests that they take the meeting back to his place. She’s had it, and no job is worth his business. She’s done her part, and if Ruby wants the accolades for landing another deal, well then Emma will just let Ruby close it instead. 

He’s angry, and she’s not sure that he doesn’t purposefully make his chair scrape against the wooden floor in the restaurant louder as he stands, throwing cash on the table. There’s a small part of her that swears she hears him mumble something about her being a tease under his breath as they part, and she just can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something more sinister under his nice guy routine.

She rides the subway north, away from her apartment, and then back down again to the city center just to make sure he isn’t following her, because at this point, she wouldn’t put it past him. She’s had gut instincts about men in the past and ignored them only to endure immense humiliation and regret. She won’t do it again. 

So she wanders around downtown Boston, just to be safe. Walking anywhere and nowhere, she finds herself in a small park, just at the corner of Congress and Milk St. It’s not a glorious park by any means, just a simple little plot of grass, a tiny safe haven untouched by the constant erection of buildings all around her. 

There’s a bench near the far end, and her feet are killing her from the four miles she’s traipsed tonight. Allowing herself a few minutes to rest and regroup, she leans back meaning to catch a view of the stars above, but the city is too bright and the trees too dense. Instead, with her head tilted up, she closes her eyes and lets the night wash over her. Her mind is empty at first as she listens to the sounds around her. A group of teenagers out with nothing else to do yelling as they ride by on skateboards. A couple whispering to each other as they stroll through the park. A man out for a job, panting as his feet hit the pavement.

But eventually, her mind betrays her, letting flashes of her dalliance pass by. The way a certain stranger whispered in her ear, the panting coming from him as he pounded into her. Her core throbs at the memory and before she knows it, there’s a slight smile threatening to bloom across her face, in equal measure to the blush forming as she remembers that she’s still in public. 

She’s not going to go to him, much to the chagrin of her hormones, but she wouldn’t deny herself the company of her purple nightstand companion, not when she can still smell the ghosting of his cologne. The thought of it leaves her a little bereft though, knowing that she won’t be able to hit the same angles, or feel the weight of a full body on top of her. But she can make do. She’s done it before quite regularly as a matter of fact. 

But then she stands, giving herself a few seconds to look around and get her bearings, trying to think of where the closest subway station would be. And that’s when she sees it. In small black signage, The Langrham, and perhaps that’s all the sign she needs. 

Acting on sheer impulse, she walks to the front of the building, not listening to the hundreds of reasons why this is a bad idea in her head. She literally only told herself less than five minutes ago that she wasn’t going to him, skillset be damned. But when the universe sees fit to land her twenty feet away from the chance at no strings attached mind blowing sex, she listens. She’s thought of becoming a nun before, in jest of course, but she’s paid her penance, a whole year of it. So she grants herself this. He said he was only going to be in town for the week. What harm could it really do?

The elevator is slow to open, and she’s trying everything not to make eye contact with the front desk clerk, who surely knows that she doesn’t belong here. The ride up to the seventh floor is unbearingly long as she talks herself out and back into going through with knocking on his door. But it isn’t until she has her hand raised, looking at the 704 numberage that she really starts to worry herself. It’s Boston, and he’s here on a vacation, what are the chances he’s even in his room right now? He certainly wasn’t wasting away there last night.

She’s about to turn around and run when a doorway down the hall opens. Not wanting to seem like she’s lurking, because at this point it’s only loitering, she finally summons all her courage and lightly raps on the door. She feels so stupid waiting there, not sure what outcome she’s hoping for. If he isn’t there, she can slink away and lick her pride wounds from the comfort of her own bed. 

But when he opens the door in nothing but a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt, the decision is made for her. It takes him just a tic to realize what’s happening, he’s still toweling off his hair as he answers, clearly not expecting anyone, but she knows the exact second it clicks in his mind. His boyish demeanor quickly changes, and he’s doing that thing with his tongue and the corner of his mouth again.

“Tell me you aren’t married.” She wants him, but not at the expense of another woman’s heart.

And there’s something under the surface when he replies, something between a longing and repulsion when he tells her, “I’m not the commitment type, Love.”

And that’s all it takes before she’s in his arms, letting him guide her through the hotel room, clothes shedding along the way. The bedroom has a gorgeous view of the skyline, not that she’s in any mindset to notice now. That will come later when he’s nodding off and she’s sneaking away. 

For now, all she can focus on is the feeling of his mouth pressed all over her body, especially when he moves down to the place she needs most. He keeps his hand pressed just below her abdomen, and she lets go, explosions rocking her to her core. But he isn't done. Not by a long shot. 

The blue eyed man tells her to wait while he walks to what she can only assume is a bathroom, and she’s probably right because he returns with another red foil packet, just like he had in the club. She tries to help him with it, but his hand on her wrist stops her attempts.

“What’s your name?”

It’s a simple enough question, but she doesn’t do names, and she’s already broken enough rules for one night.

“What would be the fun in that?” She bats her lashes, hoping he’ll remember the night before, how she warned him it was just sex. And she thinks she just might be getting away with it.

“Just two ships passing in the night then?”

“Yes, but closely I hope.”

He smiles, something devious and leans over, kissing the shell of her ear whispering in a lilt that has her completely keyed up again. 

“Sweetheart, trust me, before I’m done, you’re going to want to scream my name.”

And there’s something in the look he gives her as he pulls back, a promise and determination, and against her better judgment, she wants to see if he lives up to the expectation.

So she caves.

She gives him her first name along with the return of his own. 

And true to his promise, he had her screaming ‘Killian’ more than once. 

And true to her word, she sneaks out once he’s completely spent three full rounds later. The MBTA is no longer running at this late hour, so she spends a small fortune on an uber to get home, but the soreness she feels as she crawls into bed tells her it was worth it.

___

She remembers to set her alarm this time, and finds getting out of bed is easier when she hasn’t had her weight in booze the night before. 

Brunch is underrated in her book. Of course, brunch with her sister-in-law and best friend is less so. It’s not quite that the two other women don’t get along, but they’re polar opposites. Mary Margaret is prim and proper, and Ruby is, well, Ruby. And Emma has to kick Ruby’s shin under the table more than once as they feast on brioche french toast and eggs benedict. Especially when her friend tries to lead the conversation into more mature topics just to torture Mary Margaret.

Even more so when Ruby brings up the reason Emma had to miss lunch the previous day. Her sister-in-law being ever so gullible takes the bait, hoping it means that Emma’s met a respectable man. Emma can see her already planning out double dates in her head. There’s a part of her that considers not correcting her, hoping it would be the end of the disastrous set up attempts she’s always trying, but eventually she’ll get caught. 

The woman is disappointed at first, and then admonishes her when she realizes the truth of the matter, that he was a one night stand. Emma will have to remember to thank Ruby for that later.

The ladies part after a light shopping excursion, having hit a few high street stores. It isn’t until after Emma is home, unboxing the few bags she carried in, that she sees the surprise Ruby has left for her. A small little box, hidden under a bulky sweater dress. It’s from K.M. Hudsons and she’s not even sure when Ruby had the time to sneak away and buy it. 

The item inside has her blushing in places she didn’t know possible. And when she returns to the Langham Hotel again that night, she swears that it makes him blush just a little bit too.

But all good things must come to an end. She knew it going in, but it didn’t make leaving him that Sunday night any easier. And it’s not that she’s attached to him. She doesn’t even know his last name for craps sake, but a part of her misses the idea of him. It’s not a realization she’s ready to face. It’s good that she has work in an hour and that he’s probably going to be back on his way home to wearever he came from by the time she makes it into the office. That is, if she can ever drag herself out of bed.

Their last night together bled into the early morning, and while it felt worth it at the time, the circles under her eyes are telling her differently in the light of day. It takes another fifteen minutes before she’s up and showering. 

Life is against her.

She’s already running slightly late to her 8am office meeting, and the Dunking closest to the office has a line a mile long too. By the time she makes it up to the seventeen floor, everyone is already in one of the conference rooms, and she does her best to blend into the wall. Luck finally seems to be on her side though, and everyone seems to be talking amongst themselves instead of listening to the head of the long table like usual. She’s almost certain she’s made it unnoticed, and goes to find Ruby, but when she does, she’s stopping dead in her tracks.

Because Ruby isn’t alone.

She’s talking with the CEO and owner of the company, Liam Jones. A man that despises Emma to his very core. Although, Liam isn’t what has her halt so hard she nearly spills her freshly procedure coffee though. But it is the blue-eyed man shaking Ruby’s hand.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

A Father’s Day Triptych

TW: past/referenced child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, child neglect

(you can find it on AO3 here ♥)

Father’s day in the Hargrove household was always pulled taut with expectations of kindness and submission hanging over Billy’s head.

They didn’t always used to be that way. When he was a kid, Father’s days felt like a reprieve rather than a burden. Billy and his mom would prepare special things- a nice card that would make him laugh, those new fishing poles he’d been eyeing in the big sporting store a town over, a pretty cake with fresh fruit on top from the grocer down the way. His mother went all out. She’d get Billy all excited for it too. The strenuous relationships were softened for a day where they did everything they could to make him happy.

They really did… everything they could just to make him happy. Sometimes Billy still wonders why it had to take so much.

Around Father’s day, his mother would use all her spending money to make his father smile. It usually worked. And for that day, it was so good. It could hardly get better. Grilling and watching stupid baseball games Billy never cared about but would pretend to be interested in, just for him. Fake smiles almost became real. Hot dogs and hamburgers and watermelon always tasted better on those days when his father would put his arm around Billy amicably- when he would laugh at the card and compliment how Billy’s penmanship was getting better every year.

The year that she left was the worst.

The year that she left Billy stopped getting an allowance. He had no money to soften the edges of his father with fresh cakes and fancy presents. He panicked. He stole a stupid fishing keychain from a store and made a card from his school notebook paper. He presented them with shaking hands to his father who seemed glued to the couch, eyes bloodshot, surrounded by beer cans, baseball game so loud Billy’s ears felt sore.

He got a grunt and a lazy eye roll in response. A slurred groan of “your writing is sloppy”. A quieter admission of regret.

He got resentment. Billy was 9 and he knew it was resentment towards his very existence. He slid away to his room. There was no dinner to eat that night as his father passed out on the couch with the TV still on far too loud.

When Susan and Max came into the picture, Billy miraculously found a reason to be happy for it. Suddenly there was pressure taken off of him. He let Max know it too, as Susan encouraged them to go out and “at least get him a card”. They’d lazily look through all the forcibly funny and generic pieces of paper. Max was nervous that first year.

“It’s whatever.” Billy had grunted, looking through ugly green cards with stupid phrases on them. “She’s gonna bang him tonight, he won’t care about a dumb card.”

“Ew.” Max had whined, covering her ears and pouting. Billy couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It was never fun. Billy felt like he was on a leash all day long, obligated to do everything he could for his father just to keep him civil. Susan made a steak, the kids handed over the card, his father remarked how his penmanship was the mark of someone lazy and sloppy (no matter how hard Billy would try to make it as neat as he possibly could), and the day would end. And he could stop thinking about how this man still had a hand in his life.

…

Father’s day in the Hopper household was always bumbling and awkward.

By the time that first one came around, Billy was just beginning to feel less like a burden to the house and more like an addition. He’d found comfort in the space they all shared. They had a sort of routine set between all of them. There was still no second bed for Billy, so he still felt like he was imposing when Hop slept on the couch, but it was a sort of pull out couch by that point and Hop insisted and Billy decided not to pay it too much mind.

And that first Father’s day was just… awkward. Billy had completely forgotten the date- summer had just started for him and days were rolling by in hot and languid and lazy moments of feeling out every new situation. He had just started getting really serious with Steve. Not just touching for the sake of getting off but really starting to need and want each other in ways that scared him. In ways that made him want to keep things how they were- ways that made him scared to change a thing. It was a new and alien feeling for him.

El had inadvertently learned about Father’s day from Mike when he briefly groaned about dinner plans his family had. Billy found that out from El on their drive to the store to pick something up for Hop. She had to convince Billy it was a thing they should do, because Hopper was their father. He did fatherly things for them. He took them in and gave them a roof and food and asked how their days were and wished them goodnight and good morning, however groggily. He made stupid jokes that made them moan and he danced horribly to the old records he kept on their dusty shelf and he was horrible with laundry and he whistled as he did dishes.

He introduced Billy proudly in the grocery store once. It was the weekend after Billy had a really good basketball game that Hop had decided to attend. Hop bragged about it to some friend of his. Billy flushed red and elbowed him and tried his best to escape.

He thought about it every single day.

Billy and El bought a large cheesy balloon, ingredients to make a nice lasagna dinner, and a green and white cake from the bakery. The balloon was more for El. The lasagna was a little burnt. Hop was too nice to say he’d have preferred pie to cake, but he ate it anyway as they sat around the TV and watched whatever program was on. Billy only remembered as he fell slowly into sleep that night. He jolted awake quickly, remembering a sort of far off conversation months ago where Hop had proclaimed confidently that pie was the superior dessert of anything else- yes, even Eggo's with whipped cream and sprinkles. How he admitted cake was never his favorite.

Billy felt shame overcome him as he remembered, pushing himself out of bed and turning to the sofa with the immediate want to apologize for it. He wasn’t sure what came over him.

But instead of sending pleading apologies into the darkness, he just looked towards the sofa with a heavily beating heart and let his eyes adjust. And he thought about all that man had done for the two of them. Thought about how he took in these two stray kids. Thought about how he knew Hop was getting flack for it, because Billy heard the whispers and the snickers and the sneers about Hop running a dog pound. Thought about how he gave up his probably comfier trailer for the rundown cabin, gave up the main bedroom for the dusty spare bed, gave up the dusty spare bed for the couch, gave up parts of his sanity probably…

Billy didn’t wanna apologize anymore. He just whispered a thanks, even though it was hard to push up through his throat and would fall onto sleeping ears.

The Father’s days after that first one got better. They got Joyce, and along with her 2 boys that had their own rocky past with fathers and celebrations of them. Just four kids who feared and resented father figures. It ended up being better than Billy could imagine. It was never quite as awkward as that first Father’s day, but never quite comfortable either. That being said, it was never a bad day. The bar was low, but that didn’t matter. Billy found appreciation for the general ease all the same.

…

Father’s day in the Hargrove-Harrington-”whatever we’re together now and that’s what’s most important” household is filled with guilt and feelings of imposter syndrome.

They don’t celebrate it the first two or so years after they’ve adopted their first child. He’s just a toddler, he doesn’t quite understand yet what it is. And they… they’re still struggling with what it means to be fathers. They’re confident in their rights but they’re not immune to the judgmental voices, always eyeing them oddly when they’re out together with their boy or asking after the mother when they’re out separately. Always looking a little judgmental or harsh when they have to explain why the kid doesn’t look like them- whoever is with him at the time. Or getting looks of pity when the people clearly begin to assume it’s because they couldn’t get pregnant with whatever wife must be at home.

It’s hard to hear. It makes them question everything. If their boy doesn’t know what he’s missing, then there’s no need to explain.

Billy calls Hopper and feels his heart lurch when Hop and Joyce wish him and Steve a happy father’s day. They do it with joy and certainty. As if it belongs to them, too. Billy hangs up the phone and lays in bed for at least half an hour. Steve can’t get through to him.

It’s an odd feeling. A rough feeling. When they adopt their second child, a girl of 9 years old, they know they’re going to have to confront it. Their son begins school that year too. They find out about the day from their friends and television ads and store windows. The children are timid with them- they were adopted as supposed “problem children” from rough homes and tumultuous pasts. Billy and Steve don’t expect anything of them but they’re still not sure how to explain that. They figure ignoring is easier than explaining. Maybe it’ll make it go away.

It doesn’t work well.

And Billy… Billy’s just struggling being a dad. He couldn’t explain the job if he tried. He helps make lunches, he gives timeouts, he buys and subsequently sneaks himself some silly little snack foods when he’s hungry and busy and doesn’t have time to do more than rip open a pouch. He deals with tantrums over vegetables and he wipes mouths with napkins and he sings lullabies in the wrong key and he reads bedtime stories until he himself dozes off in the tiny bed with a small head on his chest and drool pooling onto his shirt.

He’s trying. He gets frustrated at stores. He gets a little hot headed, a little loud. His heart breaks when they cry. He’s straddling the line between being a pushover and a hard-ass. He lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling, dreading ever becoming like Neil. He asks Steve, in the stillness of the night when the darkness acts as the weight of every horrible outcome imaginable, if he’ll follow Neil’s wretched footsteps.

“You’ll never be like him, Billy.”

“How do you know? What if it’s inside me already.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe it is… maybe I won’t be able to help it.”

He stresses and he struggles and he wants to rip his hair out.

But that first father’s day comes around with their new daughter and newly knowledgeable son. And the two children blunder around the kitchen while their two dads are asleep. And then they wake the two parents up, both teary eyed and breathing heavy, faces full of apology and sorrow, asking for help to clean up the mess.

And Billy and Steve find the kitchen a single step back from full on disaster. There’s juice all over the counter and dripping onto the floor, the cereal box is all soggy from it, the toaster is smoking, a plate is broken on the ground, the fridge is still open. Their daughter pulls on Billy’s pajama pants and holds out her finger that’s bleeding. He gets out of her that she somehow managed to cut it on the butter knife she was using to cut up some fruit.

Steve gets busy cleaning things up. He asks their son to help do smaller things like close the fridge and grab some towels.

Billy takes his daughter’s small soft hand into his large, rough one and plants a kiss on it. It sends something like pure love surging through his heart. He guides her to the bathroom to put a bandaid on it and asks if she’s okay.

“Mmhm.” She nods and his heart softens. She sniffles. “M’sorry. We wanted… wanted to make breakfast and w-wanted to do something nice.”

She sounds like the weight of the world is on her small shoulders. Billy sees himself at 9 years old, doing his damnedest to get anything close to a damn smile out of his father while he sat unresponsive and unamused on the couch.

His heart yearns. It breaks and it pulls and it screams and it shouts. He pulls her in close and hugs her tight and tries to find the right words. Tries to tell her it’s made his entire year. It’s made him feel validated and happy and worth it, like all of that stress is worth it just to know that these two children got up early as hell on a Sunday morning just to surprise their fathers. Just to surprise the two of them. Just to say they thought of them, wanted to give them something, wanted to make them feel special.

“It was nice.” Is all he can croak out through his froggy throat.

“It’s a mess.” She sobs, but he just grips her arms tighter.

“It was wonderful.” He says and he’s crying too. He can’t get the tears to stop. He’s kneeling on the bathroom ground, the two of them crying to each other.

And Billy swears he’ll never get good at the father thing. He has talks with Hop about it, when he’s feeling vulnerable and Hopper’s able to get it out of him. By this point they’ve adopted another child- an older boy, a teenager. He’s rough and he’s jaded. He listens to loud, angry music. He kind of picks on the other two kids, even though he’d jump in front of a bus for either one of them. Hop asks how he likes it.

“He’s a lot like you were, y’know.” Hop tells Billy, who still doesn’t really see it.

Steve doesn’t have as much of a problem with the boy as Billy does. Billy and him just never seem to see eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re the same people.” Hop insists. Steve agrees. Joyce affirms with pity. “You clash.”

They clash hard. They get into yelling matches. Billy never puts a hand on him, but the arguments aren’t exactly great. Billy cries to Steve at night, fear shaking him down to his core, still able to see and hear himself yelling at that boy who fights tooth and nail back with him.

“You’re not a bad person, Billy.”

“Why do I do that shit?” He asks, knowing full well no one but him could ever really know.

It’s not like it’s anything too vitriolic. It’s not like it’s anything really poisonous.

It’s over the fact that he stays out too late at night, and Billy gets worried. It’s the fact that Billy found cigarettes in his room and he knows the bad effects of cigarettes. It’s the fact that he pushed his little brother one day and made him scrape his knee and he needed to learn some boundaries. It’s the fact that he lied about his grades when Billy felt they gave him no reason to do such a thing.

It’s fatherly things. That’s what Hop assures him as Billy cries on the phone with him.

“It’s things I would have done with you.”

Billy never ever knows what to make of that. What to make of what he’d be like now if Hop was his father from the start. If Hop was there from the beginning. If Neil hadn’t made him a monster in his own image.

Billy does his best to get through to him. Get through to his son now because he’s his son now.

Billy feels like the worst, most undeserving father.

As the kids have gotten older, they learned better ways to celebrate father’s day. They learn breakfast in bed isn’t really what the two of them would prefer- a nice lunch and getting to spend some time with them sounds better. A homemade card always goes on the mantle or the fridge with the rest of the collection. A few hugs because those are like treasured gifts in this house with kids who have a history of boundary and trust issues with parental figures.

The older son catches Billy alone in the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Billy replies awkwardly back. The silence is jarring.

“I uh… uhm.” He’s struggling. Billy wants to do something more than just stand here, but he’s not sure what. He doesn’t want to push anything too far. He wants to be good at this.

The boy puts a small, wrapped box on the counter with an envelope underneath and slides it over.

“Happy Father's day.” He mumbles, suddenly fidgeting.

Billy stares at them.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

There’s another pause, heavy with all the weight and worry in Billy’s heart. He reaches for the box, rips the paper open easily, lifts up the lid.

“It’s uh… it’s just a couple tapes of some of those… bands you like. And talk about. All the time.” The boy snickers, but it catches in his throat. He’s so nervous. “My friend’s family was getting rid of a bunch of their tapes and I know you’ve got your old tape player still so… uh… yeah.”

It’s a mixed bag of absolute classics. Some tapes he used to have, others he’s always wanted. Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, Def Leppard, Billy Idol, AC/DC, Alice Cooper… his heart skips. He lost a lot of his tapes after all the sudden moves he’s had to make. His eyes start to well.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Billy pushes out on a whisper.

“Are they any good?”

“They’re… they’re awesome, kid.”

“There’s a card too y’know.” The boy adds, still shuffling nervously.

Billy slips it out from under the box, pulling his finger underneath the flap to open it.

It’s… it’s ridiculous. It’s one of the cheesiest cards Billy’s ever seen. He thinks back to all the stupid, jokey cards he used to pick out with his mother. The joke inside actually makes him laugh, loud and bright.

There’s words written underneath, quite a few scribbled out and then-

Sorry for all the trouble. I think I just don’t like knowing you’re right sometimes… but thank you for everything.

The words are nearly chicken scratch- wobbly letters clearly written with a nervous and shaky hand. The boy is damn near bouncing now, damn near trying to crawl out of his skin with nerves.

It’s the best, prettiest, most wonderful chicken scratch handwriting Billy has ever seen. He can barely see it now through his misty eyes.

“Your… handwriting is really nice.”

The boy scoffs loudly.

“Uh, thanks?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Still, Billy could swear he sees the boy preen, just a little.

“Thank you.” Billy says, fighting back tears, trying like hell to hold himself together. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t… I don’t have to yell at you so much. At all. I’m sorry about it.”

The boy is just staring at him, eyes a little wide and a little shocked. Billy feels his heart lurch. He just wants to be fucking good at this.

“I’m gonna do better.” Billy asserts through a not-so-wobbly-anymore voice

The boy gives a small smile that grows a bit wider. If Billy isn’t absolutely crazy yet, he’d say that the boy’s eyes are getting a bit misty too.

“So are those tapes actually good?” The boy asks, clearing his throat and trying to seem casual. Billy sees more and more of himself in him.

“Hell yeah… do you think I’d have bad taste?”

His son cackles just a bit, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, alright then. Whatever you say.”

There’s a pause. Billy takes the card and tucks it back into the envelope to save for himself- to put in a special place in his and Steve’s room. He then busies himself with shuffling through his tapes before his son says-

“We can… listen to some of them. If you want.”

Billy’s eyes shine with excitement and appreciation.

Listening to the tapes together is wonderful. They rib each other about what songs are better, what voices do and don’t sound the same, what the lyrics are like. They learn more about each other and maybe Billy is finally forced to admit that they’re a lot more alike than he realized.

And Billy starts to feel that maybe… maybe he can finally define what a father really means to him. And father’s days start to feel a bit more like they belong to him, too.

[dejunectar]

RELATIONSHIP | lucas & jaehyun

(( suggested 18+ content ! ))

(part 2)

Your body pushed against the ones surrounding you in the thick humidity of the house party you were at. Your tight black dress was slowly becoming too uncomfortable to wear, so you were looking around to find your ride so they could take you home.

Your only problem was, they were mushing their body and lips against someone else's. Your eyes locked on Lucas as he pulled the girl close to him with a lazy smirk on his face. The longer you watched, the hotter your stomach felt. His hands roamed their body slowly before they slightly separated. The girl then said something in his ear, making him smile and nod.

They left the crowd, and you lost sight of them.

The feeling in your stomach worsened and you knew exactly what they were doing, but you turned around on your heel and made your way back to the front of the house. As you pushed and shoved your way through the sweating bodies around you, you felt your hand tugged back, sending you flying into someone's chest.

"Y/N, babe! Are you leaving already?" You turned around to smile up at the culprit. Jaehyun grinned down at you and pulled you into a small hug.

"Jay, I had no clue you were even here!" you greet him with your arms wrapped around him. "I was on my way out, yeah. I'm getting tired and was gonna call an Uber home." At this, he frowned slightly and checked his phone.

"It's only 12, do you have work in the morning?" he asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. You shook your head no in response which only gave him more confusion. "Then what's the rush to leave? Usually, you're the last to leave the party."

You brushed your brain for excuses but blurted out the obvious truth, "I came with Lucas." With that said, a look of realization wiped across the taller man's face. You nodded, not wanting to explain any further.

"Do you wanna get out of here? We can go get food or something if you'd like." Jaehyun's suggestion brought a smile to your lips and butterflies to your chest. You'd only known the guys for around 4 years but for the first 2, you had a crush on him. He was always aware of the crush but never said anything because he cared too much about you as a friend. You two had been friends for so long, though, that the crush slowly withered away. Even without romantic feelings involved, you both were still close and oftentimes hung out without the group. This resulted in Jae slowly developing feelings that he still held, but he kept it to himself in fear of rejection.

Part of the reason you stopped crushing on Jaehyun, was that you'd begun sleeping with Lucas a year and a half ago. He found you entertaining, fun, and beautiful at all angles, but he had deeply rooted commitment issues so you two never made anything official. Anytime you would even have thoughts about pursuing something more with him, he'd shut them down before you could ever air them out. But you kept up this sexual relationship with Lucas, almost as some sick and twisted form of self-harm.

You knew Lucas would never belong to you the way you belonged to him. Yet, you still met him in the nights and had your secret rendevous whenever you got his text or call. In your mind, he was yours. When you were tangled in the sheets and whispering each other's names, you were his, and he was yours.

Nevertheless, you took Jaehyun's hand and followed him out of the door and into the night, leaving Lucas and his new attraction behind.

When you and Jaehyun arrived at a small 90's diner-style restaurant down the street, your phone began buzzing wildly from your purse. As you peered down at it, your stomach began growling. Without reading the text, you looked back up at the menu in front of you.

"Thank God for places that are open until 4 a.m., right?" He chuckled across from you, earning a small laugh in response from you. "What're you thinking of getting?"

"Probably a grilled cheese sandwich and a vanilla milkshake, you?"

"Pulled pork sandwich looks pretty good to me."

You both sat your menus down and looked up at each other expectantly. "What?" You muttered, patting at your face. "Do I have something on me?"

He laughed small and shook his head, "No, Y/N, you look as fine as always." His compliment threw you off slightly but you shrugged it off. "Are you ever gonna tell me the real reason you were storming out of the party? Or are we playing the guessing game?"

"How about neither," you mumbled as you slump against the booth at the thought. Your heart sank as you recalled the image of Lucas being intimate with the girl from the party.

"C'mon, kid," he jokingly kicked your foot under the table, "don't make me pry it out of you."

You rolled your eyes and squinted at him, "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"It's a longer walk home than you'd think," he threatened.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare."

"You're right, so let's skip the bullshit and get to the reason why you looked so livid earlier."

You sighed in defeat before sitting up and resting your head in your hand as you slouched into the table. "It's just girl problems. That's all."

He raised an eyebrow and waved a hand as a way to convince you to go more into detail. You rolled your eyes once more before deciding to blurt it all out. He'd find out sooner or later, anyway.

"You already know, I've been sleeping with Lucas for a while now but earlier tonight, before we got to the party, he kissed me and he called me pretty and it just- I guess- I mean, it just felt like maybe he felt it too, y'know? I know it's stupid but I just have this feeling that maybe one day he'll feel the same way I do about him. I dunno," you picked at the chipping paint on the table, awaiting a response.

Jaehyun's hand reached across the table and sat atop yours. "It's not stupid, and you're not stupid," You looked up at his words to find a sincere look in his eyes, "Lucas is, though. I know you think that continuing whatever you have with him will change how he feels about you one day but, Y/N, he's the type of guy who will do what he pleases whenever he pleases. That's not gonna change unless he wants to."

You knew everything he was saying was right, but it only broke your heart more. Still, you shrugged to look indifferent and began chipping at the paint again. Tears pricked your eyes but you yawned to mask them.

After you both ordered your food, you started up a new conversation to lighten the mood. Within mere seconds he had you smiling and laughing again. You were throwing jokes at each other, enjoying the company and time spent together. Your phone buzzed a few times throughout the meal, but you ignored it, deciding not to ruin the moment.

You only got halfway through your burger when Jaehyun received a call from Jungwoo. "Yeah?......huh? Hold on, go somewhere quieter I can't hear- okay.........yeah.......okay, and?.........we just went to grab food......no, she didn't see.....we've been eating- Jesus, alright, fine......yeah, 'kay. Bye." You watch as he slips his phone into his jacket pocket and slips a 20 dollar note out and places it on the table.

"We gotta go," He sighs before sliding out of his seat and standing up. "Lucas is blasted off of his ass and apparently has been blowing you up asking where you are."

You scoff out a sarcastic, "Wonderful." As you get up from your seat you look down at your phone to see 3 missed calls and 8 texts from Lucas.

xuxi <3:

y/nnnnnn

wher are you

som1 saif you leftg withj jae

i misssd youu

whre r uuuuuuuu

pls come homeeewee :(((9(9

head huerts so fucjin bad

r u witgh jaewmdjfchbgfd

You chewed your lips, debating on whether to respond or not. "You don't have to go home with him if you don't want to. You can crash at my place or even- I'll have Ten take him so you don't have to put up with him." You smiled small at Jaehyun's suggestions but shook your head.

"It's fine, really. Can we just drive back?"

Jaehyun gave you a long look, trying to figure you out, but ultimately gave up and nodded along.

[kashimos-hajime]

sawdust and plastic | g.t.

summary: you learn two things from your first real fight with goro. 1) he apologizes through cooking. 2) he hates it when they argue.

WARNINGS: spoilers for the gimme danger main job, swearing, slight angst, theye just communicating pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.2k

a/n: written with a fem!street-kid v who used to be a corpo kid. also dont yell at me but i rearranged v's apartment so the couch goes on all 3 sides bc comfortable :^) crossposted on ao3! enjoy :) 

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

Sitting down on the couch, you kick up your feet for the first time in what you feel like has been ages. From Jackson Plains to reconnaissance on the Arasaka warehouse, you haven’t eaten shit besides the yakitori Takemura had ordered at that booth which already felt like ages ago. It’d been good—better than the trash you’ve eaten as a kid so you don’t really get picky—but you can’t help but recall the disgust on Takemura’s face when he had taken a single bite.

“Sawdust and plastic.”

You snort, running hands over your face and tilting your head back. Stupid fucking Japanese man with an endearing sense of dry-humour and… zero tolerance for your cheeky smiles. 

Then he had to go ahead and bring up Jack.

His words, cold, callous, echo in your skull like a goddamn radio and you squeeze your eyes tight, raking your hands down your face and melting into the couch. No matter how much you wanna stop it, you can’t help hearing it over and over and over.

Grabbing the remote, you’re about to switch on a channel in hopes you catch something that cna take your mind off everything when there’s a knock on your door.

For a moment, you truly debate telling them to fuck off but then, there is a pause.

“V.”

Eyes widening, your body goes rigid at the sound of his voice.

“V, let me in before I look anymore foolish.”

In the back of your head, you tempt the idea of just leaving him out there, pretending like you’ve fallen asleep, but then you get up anyway against your better judgement. You drag your feet over the floor, picking up old takeout boxes you haven’t had time to clean up and tossing clothes into a hamper to make your apartment look more like an organized mess than the dumpster fire you know Takemura will scold you for.

When you reach the door, you let him in without a word and you note the bags he holds on, hoisting them over to your living room counter.

“What’s this?” you question wearily. “Goro, I’m not hungry.”

“I realized I must apologize for my harsh words.” Beginning to pull out the groceries, you walk over and peer inside the bag, frowning. All the stuff inside is cheap synth shit, nothing you haven’t eaten before, but you’re still confused as to what’s going on since you don’t exactly have a kitchen in your place, but then out of one of the thicker bags, Takemura pulls out a big box.

“For saying them?”

“Yes." He sets the box down before continuing with groceries. “Earlier, I told you if I had time and resources, I would cook onigiri.”

“With cod, or grilled salmon. Or umeboshi plums, because they were Saburo’s favourite,” you finish and he sends you a look that could’ve been a smile if his lips had curved more and his eyes meant it. “I remember.” Helping him with the big box, you cut it open and find a rice cooker within. Eyeing the contraption with an arched eyebrow, you can’t help but ask: “Where’d you find this stuff?”

“It was difficult. I had to lower my standards.” 

“Lowering standards,” you echo dryly, unable to help your empty smile. “Yeah. We do that a lot in grand ole NC.” He doesn’t seem amused by you even trying to help as you sit down on the couch, twist to watch him work. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

“I am cooking to apologize. It would not be honourable for you to help me,” he replies shortly and you nod to yourself, turning back around to watch the news. Nothing about a break-in with the floats, nothing at all indicating… anything.

For some reason, it makes you uneasy. The last time you snuck into an Arasaka building, everything went to shit and it made its mark. The lack of visible ripples makes you feel like nothing’s happened at all. Like it’s all been a fever dream, and you and Takemura didn’t sit on that roof for hours, watching the cat, just… talking.

Jesus, you need to get laid.

“Still don’t know why you bother cooking,” you say. Takemura noticeably stiffens and even though you don’t see it, you can almost feel the way he manipulates the air he stands in. He has that power—pure corpo power—and you clench your jaw. “Why waste time on someone so lazy as me?”

“V—"

“Nah, my bad. Arrogant. Hell, you probably see all the takeout around here and think I’m taking some easy route to food.” The bitterness is enough to puncture holes in steel as you stare blankly at the screen. “After all, I dirty my hands for money,” you quote. Your chest tightens as you hear his voice echo in yours, the way he had said it so coldly. Stomach turning, you shake your head. “Not in the name of some fucking principles.”

There’s a silence on his end and you close your eyes, swallowing through the bruising in your throat, a telltale sign you’re holding back tears. Just the mention of Jackie makes you want to spiral and you take a deep breath, trying not to react.

For the first time, you think Johnny might be right.

“Damn right, I am,” a voice says and you open your eyes, gaze fluttering to the side to see Johnny lounging against your couch. You turn around to see Takemura’s moved to the bathroom, probably to clean rice… however the fuck you make onigiri. You don’t know. You’re too tired to care about food, or feelings, or anything. “Never can trust a corpo. They all want one thing.”

“I don’t need to remind you that I was a corpo kid, do I?”

“Not anymore. It’s about principles.” Johnny’s tone is wry and you scowl at him. “What? If there’s one thing you might be able to relate to is that you both have ‘em. His might be wrong as shit, but…”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna forgive him. This guy’s got you wrong, V. You don’t waste time on people like that.”

“I don’t have time to stay angry with him,” you argue. “The fact is, I’m dying and he’s gonna be the only one who can save me.” Johnny sits up straight, leaning on his knees and you sigh, shaking your head. Resting your arm along the back of the couch, you fit your hand to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“Stop. Don’t do it, V. It’s not worth it,” Johnny warns, standing up and you wrench your gaze up as you shift your feet on the floor and lean forward, burying your face in your hands. “I can feel everything you are feeling, and if I have to deal with your indecisive debates on whether or not it’s worth it to become attached to this corp piece of shit, I’ll kill myself.”

“You’re already dead, Johnny.”

“Let me live a little.” He stands and edges around you as if he were real and you rest your chin in your palms, watching as his holographic imagine crosses you before glitching back into view again across the table. He sits down. “The truth is, you’re gonna have a hell of a problem.”

“I know.”

“So, stop.” Johnny says it like it’s so easy and you chew on your cheek as the faucet turns off and you turn around to see Takemura begin to leave your bathroom. His pale eyes catch yours and you turn around only to see your brain tumour’s gone and left you alone. It’s eerily quiet in your head and you stand, clearing your throat.

Takemura slips the clean rice into the rice cooker before closing it and you cross your arms below your breasts, squeezing yourself tightly. You feel bare in your clothes despite wearing your scuffed jacket. He regards you warily, and then he sighs, gesturing to the couch—a silent ask.

 You nod, stepping back and letting him take where you were sitting earlier. You retreat across from him, where Johnny was sitting and he glances around your apartment. You wonder if he’s judging even more of you, but then he looks into his hands, swallowing visibly. 

“V—"

“You’re not the only one with principles. Just because I kill for money don't mean I'd do anything for it,” you begin coldly, leaning back and studying him. “And nothing about my life has been easy. When I said you did what you had to do to keep food on the table, that wasn’t me judging you. That was me getting it, alright, Goro?” His eyes meet yours and you arch an eyebrow, scoffing. “Not my problem if you don’t believe me. Yeah, I oppose corps, because they ruined my life, and so many other people’s lives no one can count 'em, but that doesn't mean you're any better than me. You don’t get to make assumptions about me. You never get to make assumptions about Jackie.That is all I have to say.”

He nods, accepting your harsh tone and you bite your tongue, trying not to burn down the bridge anymore than you need to as you prop a foot up against the table. Takemura doesn't say anything for a hot moment and you think you've wasted your time. Your knee jiggles. He doesn't even look at you.

Then: “I must again say that we are both still grieving. We ache to lash out. That is why I said what I said, and why, I presume, you say what you say.” He steeples his fingers and regards you with those eyes, gorgeous in their own right. “I understand what I said was callous. You have been nothing but understanding to my own loss.”

“No shit.”

“And I understand Mr. Welles was your friend.”

“He was like my brother,” you correct icily. “He’s been there for me since the beginning, I—I can’t forgive you saying something like that about him so easily, Goro.”

He dips his head. “I understand. It is why I cook for you. It is how I best express myself." The corner of his mouth tugs up faintly in a mirthless facsimile of a smile before he exhales sharply through his nose, looking at you again. "I confess I have not had time recently to cook, but I will do my best.” Johnny’s link comes to life at the mention and your own stomach squirms silently. “We are in this together, V. I do not wish for you to be angry at me.”

“Don’t do it, V. Don’t take it.”

“Fuck off, Johnny. I’m starving.” Aloud, you say: “I’ll be angry for a while. Just… let me sleep on it and we'll see from there.” He nods and you let your arms fall to your sides as you sit up. “It’s been a long few days, so I just… I just want to not think about anything for a while, you know?”

“I understand.”

He says that a lot, you notice. 

“Thank you for apologizing, at least,” you continue grudgingly. “Thanks.” You stand and gesture vaguely around the place. “Make yourself at home. I’m… I’m going to shower and scrub this grime off.” Dried blood, sweat, dirt, et cetera. He nods and stands as well, returning to the tiny cooking station he’s made for himself. You head to your closet, managing to pick out a clean shirt that’s a bit big and a jacket you ripped off a 6th Street goon a few weeks back. You just picked it up from the cleaners.

Heading for the bathroom, you set your crap on the toilet cover before poking your head out. Spotting Takemura sitting in front of the table, carefully sharpening a knife, you wait until he’s noticed you staring and he prompts you silently to ask.

“How’d you even know where I live, anyway?” 

He turns his gaze back on the blade.

“Ms. Olszewski marked it in my map, should the need arise.”

“This was a need?” you ask, curiously sardonic. Takemura doesn’t smile back and again, you get that impression he either doesn’t know how or he doesn’t do it often enough to remember. For some reason, that makes you sad. "Could've left it well enough alone. You know that."

“Oh, come on, V,” Johnny murmurs in your ear. “Don’t wax poetics on this guy.”

You ignore him.

“I do not enjoy the thought of a rift between you and I,” admits Takemura. He sets down the knife and sighs, eyes flitting to you briefly. Your hand wraps around the doorframe and you press your lips into a faint frown. "I... I have grown used to you."

You nod despite the words punching into your chest. “I don’t like it when we fight either.” At least, that you don’t have to fight twice to figure out. Your expression eases and your shoulders drop. “I’ll just hop in. Help yourself to whatever you can find. Really.” He accepts your offer with another nod and you close the door. It locks and you press your back against the metal, tipping your head back.

“For the love of—“

“Shut it, Johnny. Just… just give me a second.”

And on one of the rare occassions that he listens to you, Silverhand says nothing about how your heart doesn’t feel like wrought iron anymore.

[moonyswriting]

Surprise

CW: food

Characters by @lumosinlove

I wrote this a while ago, but never uploaded it. Hope you'll like it :)

"No, I wanna go to Narnia. Lemme- I wanna-"

Sirius had a hard time holding back his giggles as he watched his husband roll around in their bed. Leaning over he caressed his hand over the expanse of his sides, drawing soothing lines until Remus stopped moving and talking, going back to his even breathing.

Sirius propped his head over his husbands' sleeping form to be able to see their alarm clock display 11:00. They were never usually able to sleep that long, not because their bodies wouldn't allow it, Remus had proven he could sleep until the evening if no one woke him up, but rather because of their practice being regularly scheduled in the morning.

Now, however they were in the anticipated off season, which meant time to be as cliche of a couple as Sirius could manage. He knew Remus liked it, the fact that the Lions Captain, who put on a stone face mask every time he was on the ice, was able to let go this much and express himself in ways that only Remus got to see.

"Thinking of the devil," Sirius muttered as his husband turned just enough to place a few sleepy kisses to his shoulder, before snuggling into his neck.

Remus pulled himself closer to the taller man, determined to bury his face further into the crook of Sirius' neck than was physically possible. He continued until he got his husband squirming out of his embrace, cranking his neck to the other side so Remus would be able to reach it.

The brunette looked up, slowly blinking his eyes open, a lazy smile on his lips. He would say that was the best part of his day, but he had things planned.

"It tickled," Sirius gave as an explanation, moving back to hold Remus, placing a kiss on his forehead. Then smiled, adding "Good Morning, mon amour."

Remus took a slow, deep breath before leaning over Sirius, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Good morning, baby."

They both settled back down into the pillows and just stayed there, until Sirius turned to his husband. "You want to get up?"

"No." Remus grumbled back, seemingly half asleep again.

Sirius smirked as he combed through golden curls "I have a surprise for you."

That made Remus peek up. Sirius knew he liked surprises, he didn't quite share the feeling, but loved planning them for him. He especially loved seeing the different reactions of his husband.

First came curiosity and adoration, when Sirius first told him about something he was planning.

Afterwards there was just excitement. Remus seemed to get so much energy through the promise of something unknown. Before a reveal, he could, more often than not, be seen jumping or running around, trying to get rid of the energy.

Then, at the reveal, the first reaction is usually Remus freezing in place, sometimes a hand over his mouth. He seemed so overwhelmed because of whatever Sirius did for him.

The black haired had asked if it wasn't making him uncomfortable, as Sirius himself hated being overwhelmed, but Remus had assured him he loved the feeling in those moments.

The last emotion that Sirius got to see on his husband's face whenever he surprised him was pure love. Everytime he showed the other his surprise it was like Remus couldn't believe he got so lucky.

Sirius felt like it was pretty mutual.

Remus was still looking at him, expectantly and curious.

Sirius sat up and got off the bed, extending an arm to his husband. "Come on. I'll show you."

They climbed out of their bed and Sirius went straight for the kitchen, telling Remus he could just take a nice shower in the meantime, while he was preparing something.

He did and once he was done they both got to brushing their teeth next to each other, fooling around too much to be efficient, but neither seemed to mind.

--

Sirius plans turned out to lead them into a car, the back packed with things Remus wasn't allowed to see. But he presumed everything was going well, since Sirius smiled smugly and that only got Remus more excited for whatever his husband had planned.

He was only a bit confused, when Sirius stopped the car in front of a forest. They both climbed out of the car and Remus was hit by the smell of fresh air and cut wood. The air in Gryffindor wasn't bad at all, but still you could smell the difference in a heartbeat. It was also way quieter than at home, he noticed. There were a few cars driving in some distance, but he could actually hear the birds. Other birds than pigeons that is.

While Remus was still staring at the trees towering over them, he heard something being set down behind him and right after felt arms circling his waist. Sirius placed his head on the others shoulder, kissing his cheek. "It's beautiful, eh?"

"It really is. How did you find this place?" Remus asked, turning around.

Sirius' smile turned into one Remus couldn't quite place until he told him dramatically "I was talking about you, mon coeur."

Remus laughed. He loved that side of Sirius. The one that was able to make a remark so sweet, yet with just enough sarcasm to make it funny.

Placing his hands on Remus cheeks, Sirius leaned down to kiss his nose. Which still managed to make Remus flush. He looked down at the ground. Next to Sirius on were the items he'd hidden in the back of the car. There was a backpack on the left and a picnic basket on the right. "We'll have a picnic?" he asked excitedly.

Sirius nodded, sharing Remus' expression "You like them, non? This seemed like the perfect place."

"Yeah," Remus said dreamy "It's perfect. You're perfect." He leaned up to his toes to kiss Sirius. They broke apart rather quickly though, the black haired walking over to get the backpack and basket.

Before Remus was even able to open his mouth to offer his help, Sirius just took his hand with his unoccupied one. "I'm a professional hockey player. I can handle carrying two things at once, but thank you." Placing a final kiss onto Remus' cheek for now, they wandered off into the forest.

After a few turns Remus wasn't actually sure where they were going anymore but his husband seemed to have a clue as he didn't even blink before making turns. After only a couple of minutes of walking into the forest they arrived at a clearing and Remus stopped right there in his tracks, pulling Sirius into an abrupt halt as well.

"Are you okay?" he asked after Remus proceeded to just letting his gaze dart around the clearing.

He let out a slow breath and held Sirius hand tighter. "Yeah, sorry, this just doesn't seem real."

They stood there for another moment before Remus ran off. He felt like a child, but this looked like it was taken straight from a fairy tale. The sun was shining through the trees, colouring the grass and moss beautiful shades of green. There were little footpaths snaking through the trees, Ivy growing up most of them.

"This is incredible!" still running around, he shouted back to Sirius, who was slowly making his way over to a sunbathe spot.

He heard Sirius laugh. It was perfect. Running over to where his husband had put down a way-too-cliche red and white checked picnic blanket, he just crashed into the other, who had tried to reach over to the basket. Sirius didn't seem to mind being tackled onto the ground by the love of his love, placing a burst of kisses all over his face.

"It's beautiful. Don't worry our wedding day will forever be the best day in my life, but this is up there on the list so far."

Sirius had known Remus would like this, of course, that had been the reason for the surprise. However, what he hadn't expected was for the other to love it this much. Seeing so much joy on Remus' face was probably the best thing to happen all week.

Sirius positively beamed "I'm so glad you like it! Took quite some time to find this place, but definitely worth it."

"Definitely," Remus said as he settled back onto Sirius. They just played there for a bit, until the shorter mans stomach growled.

"Ah, yes, food." Sirius adjusted his position, reaching over to the basket.

His husband sat up, making a nice space in front of them for whatever Sirius had brought. Placing the basketball next to him he pulled out item after item and set it in front of them. Once he was done he was done, he looked over at Remus, who seemed confused, yet impressed.

Sirius just smiled and got to explaining "We have some drinks of course: Water, Tea and Coffee; Then of course food, because I know you're hungry and I'm almost done, just wait another minute:" Remus put his head on Sirius shoulder as he continued explaining, "We've got a fruit salad I actually made -i'm pretty proud of that- then some grilled cheese in there so they stay warm, turkey sandwich, with cranberry sauce of course, some cut up vegetables plus dip and of course chocolate cake provided by Celeste, which is as close to on the diet plan as she could manage without it losing the taste."

"Wow," was the first thing Remus said, looking over all the things laying out in front of them. "Most of this is not even close to on our diet plan, but honestly, I couldn't care less. This is absolutely adorable, baby, thank you." There was that look, the one full of love with nothing else at all to distract from it.

"You like it? It's good, nothing missing?" Sirius asked. He was pretty sure Remus liked it, but he needed to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

Remus turned his head, moving his hands to his husbands cheeks, successfully turning his head to face him. "It's perfect and I love it." He kissed Sirius. "I love you."

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[7soulstars]

Hello :) I hope it's okay to send a request (if not, then I'm sorry about it ) So maybe where Bucky lives on Clint's farm to get away from everything but then there comes this woman, Clints best friend besides Nat and he immediately wants to know her better.. after a while they get really close and develope feelings for each other but dont talk about it. So one night, she stays over and needs to share a room with Buck, things get heated and passionate between them ? :) then it's all cuddly? ❤️

Hey darling! Thank you so much for requesting! I am so sorry it took me so long! I blame it on my lazy ass and also on the many pending requests. Thank you so much for being this patient with me! I really hope you like this one!

Мой целитель

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Broken Bonky Babie, Avengers are teasing little shits, Steve leaves like in the movies and doesn’t come back (I want to kill him for that), Fluff, Shy Bonky and Y/N, Liddle angst, Both idiots doubt themselves, Y/N likes beating the fuck out of bullies a.k.a Violence, steamy stuff but not smut ( cuz I don’t write smut”

Summary: Someone managed to make Bucky accept the fact that everyone can heal. 

..............

Мой целитель ; (pronounced: Moy tselitel') Russian for My Healer

War never ends. It just rests. One day someone will come to ask your help that is when the rest of war is over again.

That is what Bucky has always been of the belief ever since before and after endgame. Ever since Steve left, most of Bucky did too. Yes, he had Sam and the others but Steve was the only part of his original past left and he couldn’t even stop him.

He decided that the rest period for his war conflicted heart had started when Clint had offered him a place to live at his farmhouse to ‘heal and stay away from the space bullshit’. 

Not to brag but he had fit right into the little family. The kids loved Uncle Bucky and Laura appreciated the extra help she got with the house. Sam and Natasha would come by every two days and the rest every once a week. They would go visit a bar and hang out. That was Bucky’s life now. That was his routine.

Clint had sudddenly announced one fine weekly team hangout day that his long time best friend would be joining them. Bucky couldn’t care less. He had seen people come in and out of the Barton house all the time. Most sending him glares due to his past. He couldn’t blame them. Not when he knew he would do the same in different set of circumstances.

But he was proved wrong. Y/N was an angel. More so to him. Not a single glare was directed at him by her the entire time. She just smiled sweetly. Maybe he did care a little bit.

Y/N turned out to be Lila and Cooper, Clint’s first two children’s godmother. She had finally come home after 15 years of being in and out of the country for her job. Clint had mentioned that every time she came back she would first visit the kids not forgetting to bring them gifts from everywhere and how the snap had worried her. So Bucky was not surprised when he had to get three kids off of her as she entered the house. His heart swelled when she said ‘Thank You’, although everyone said that. 

He was unusually getting attached to her and that scared him.

After Steve attatchment was difficult. Trust was difficult. But Y/N made it seem like child's play. She somehow completely saw through him. Almost as if she knew everything about him and he was confused by that.

Especially at those little moments when he felt hesitant.

Bucky was a handsome man no doubt and that meant some women were confident enough to ask hit on him everytime he was out at a restaurant or a bar with the others. Y/N would join them quite often and on one such day she saved Bucky from his anxiety issues.

"Hey.....you come here quite often.....can I buy you a drink ?", a very confident girl had managed to come up to the table and asked Bucky who looked at her with eyes as blown out as big as saucers and immediately looked down stuttering as he tried to politely reject the lady. A hand carefully wrapped around his metal arm as he realized Y/N had said "I'm sorry he's taken", before sending the girl as kind smile which had lead to Bucky's hair-hidden neck to go red.

Bucky had excused himself to the washroomas the rest relentlessly teased his popularity but he had not noticed Y/N following suit.

"I'm sorry", she had apologised leaving the other puzzled again. "W-why?" "I should have asked before touching you....I know-I know you don't like being touched....I'm sorry". There was pure sincerity in her voice "NO!",his own voice startled him and her as she looked at him in confusion. "I-I mean I'm glad....You helped me out there......Also.....",there was hesitation in Bucky's heart, "Also....I don't mind if you touch me Y/N".

That day onwards something changed. Significantly so, Bucky found himself calling and hanging out with Y/N more. She filled his thoughts would be one way of saying that and the Avengers noticed. So the next time Bucky tried to sneak out of the farm when the others were there Sam noticed, “Hey Hey Hey ! Where are you sneakin to ?”. The other stood frozen like a deer in the headlights staring down at his best friend like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. Nat smirked as she bit on her grilled cheese sandwich sing songing, “He’s going to meet Y/N~~”Bucky grumbled a little ‘Shut up Nat’ before taking the car out towards the bar.

“Buck !”, she had yelled waving as he smiled and pulled her into his arms for a hug and staying like that for a few minutes both eventually hesitantly letting go. Joe the bartender already having set up their regular drinks showed how often they frequented the place, even having seats that were almost always empty for just the two of them. 

After meeting Y/N, Bucky realised new things about himself. He liked sweet stuff more than savoury. He liked playing games at the arcade. He was definately much more open to technology than Steve ever was. He liked being spoiled and babied. And he was extremely serious about board games. He knew all this because Y/N made him realize that.

That day he found out another thing. He likes staring at Y/N looking at the sunset. In other words he likes Y/N. But he had promised himself to not act on it. He didn’t want to loose her. Not now, not ever.

Walking through a dark alley way was not something Bucky liked but with Y/N it was something he was starting to hate. Y/N is beautiful. Obliviously so. He could sense sleazy men staring at her but chose to stay put. But we all know that rouse wasn’t going to stay put for long considering a group of 3 men surrounding the two of them all eyeing Y/N. “Hey sweetheart why don’t you come with us ? We counld have a darn sweet night”, exclaimed the one that looked like the leader as the other two laughed behind him. “Back off”, Bucky had warned. He didn’t want to fight. He felt like he’d embarrass himself before Y/N. “Ohhh look who it is The Winter Soldier”, the other said mockingly. “What are you going to do? Kill me? You don’t have Captain America now to back you up do you ?”. Before Bucky could even reply the third guy let out a scream at which everyone turned to look at him to see him cradling what seemed like a freshly broken wrist and before he could even react the second one went flying into a pile of trash (where he belongs) and the main commentator’s head was being bashed strait onto the road by Y/N’s hand. “No, but he does does have an ex-black ops now turned into a CIA Agent to back him up”, she quipped seethingly through her teeth.

Bucky said nothing. His brain was still processing the information he was bombarded with. He walked Y/N to her car and drove back to Clint’s all while still processing.

So when Sam (who was just about to leave) asks “How was it ?” Bucky looks him in the eye and goes.

“I’m in love with Y/N.”

Tony had decided to prank Clint one fine day and told everyone that Clint was hosting a sleepover. So that meant Clint had to accomodated several idiots into his farmhouse. Within this chaos he also had a very great idea.

So when Y/N was pushed into Bucky’s room both stopped functioning.

Y/N spotted him angrily whispering into is phone as she got out of the shower. Throwing his phone into oblivion ,startled, when she called name out suddenly. “Y-You’re done ? Uhhhh you can take the bed doll, I’ll take the floor”,Bucky hates the floor but if it meant Y/N would be comfortable, he’d be ready to sleep on a block of ice. “Nope definately not ! We can share the damn bed Buck the floor uncomfortable !”, she argued. “ No Y/N you don’t understand I can’t !” “WHY! IS IT BECAUSE I MADE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE AFTER THAT DAY ?”, there was a grave silence between the two. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Bucky’s eyes soften and for the first time he realizes that he had never thaken the effort to know more about Y/N. He was focused on her helping him find himself. “Why would you say that ?” ,he said softly as he moved towards her and she moved backwards. “Because it is what it is isn’t it?”, she retorted. “NO IT IS NOT !”, Bucky sighed as he sat on the bed and watched the woman of importance as she paced around the room. “Why then Bucky ? You’ve been distant from me since that day....” “You won’t understand.....” “Try me” “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU OKAY !” 

12 minutes. It had been 12 minutes since Y/N had froze and stared at Bucky. 

“Shut up. You’re lying” , she finally said.

“What ? No ! Why would I lie about that”,Bucky argued

“Because ! You are James Buchanan Barnes ! One of the most attractive men I have seen in my life period.”

“And here I’m the one firmly believing someone like me doesn’t even stand a change with someone as pretty as you.”

“See, you’re lying again”

“Doll, shut up before I will have to make you”, he warned

“Don’t make empty threats that you won’t fulfill James”, she challenged.

And with that Bucky has Y/N slammed into the bed , his mouth moving roughly along her’s as she puts her arms around his. There was something different about this Bucky. Y/N felt every single pent up frustration that the man kissing her had felt supressing his feelings had felt.

Soon enough they seperated, finally gasping for air. Bucky plopped beside Y/N as she placed her palm on his cheek rubbing a thumb over it while smiling at him blissfully. 

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you”

“I love you...”, she said and somehow Bucky knew he had tears running down his cheeks. He curled into her arms. Clint’s loud speakers playing Elvis as the two dozed off to sleep. But Bucky waited for her to doze off, kissing her forehead as he ran his metal arm through her hair.

“Мой целитель, I love you too”, he said. 

He wasn’t alone anymore. He was healed. His internal war had ended forever. That’s all he ever wanted. That’s all he was thankful for.

---The End---

Guess who almost cried writing this fic? That’s right! ME. Now I need myself a Bucky to hug. I really hope you liked this fic and I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH ON HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME! Please like, share, comment and reblog if you like my work to support me ! Please do not plagarise my hard work and thank you so much for reading! 

~Love, Hri

[theloversthedreamersandme82]

The sigh of the weary

Tumblr prompt from @grilledcheesebandit of Lucien and Jean literally bumping into each other

“Oof!” Jean exhaled heavily as she collided with the person in front of her. “Oh I’m so sorry,” she cried as the gentleman’s paper bag broke and spilled its contents onto the floor. As she bent to pick up the dropped items she glanced up to see who she’d bumped into. The man hadn’t moved apart from turning to see who had bumped into him and now he stood staring blankly down at her and the scattered shopping. Jean frowned worriedly. “I really do apologise." She stood, her arms full of groceries.

“Yes,” the man finally answered, “I’m sorry, I’m not quite myself.” He retrieved some of the items from Jeans arms, dropping a celery in the process. The man sighed wearily and closed his eyes.

Jean bent to pick up the celery and shot a glance at the mans tired eyes as she heard his sigh. He looked exhausted, lost and sad.  She mentally changed gear and went into mothering mode. “Can I help you back to your place with these?”

The man held his eyes closed for a little longer, then opening them, fixed his red, watery eyes on Jean. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

She smiled at him gently and followed him out of the grocery store.

They walked in silence for a while and Jean wished she’d remembered her coat. A bitter wind blew, and with her arms full of groceries, she couldn’t wrap her cardigan around herself for warmth.

“I haven’t seen you around before?”

“I’m… I’ve been away,” the man said simply and the silence continued.

“What brings you back here, Mr…?”

“Blake. Doctor Blake. But I really would prefer you to call me Lucien. My father passed away recently. I’ve just arrived back in town today, and thought I’d better grab a few things on my way to his place to try and deal with things. I think he had a housekeeper, but who knows what kind of woman she is. Probably some fat old biddy who over boils the vegetables until all the colour is gone.”

Jean’s eyes had widened with every word the man had said and she stopped short and stared at him with a small smile. “You’re Doctor Blake’s son?”

“Oh did you know him? I’m sorry for your loss.” The man stuck his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

Jean frowned with confusion. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? He was your father.”

“On paper, maybe. But he never really acted like a proper father to me.” Lucien sighed as he continued walking. “And I’m afraid sometimes I didn’t really act like a proper son should. Part of the reason that all of this is so difficult.” Lucien glanced at Jean who was staring at him. “I’m sorry. Here I am rambling to a complete stranger.”

It began to rain. Not softly and light. But the big heavy drops that immediately soaked through clothing. It was slow and lazy at first, but steadily turned into a downpour, which quickly put an end to any conversation as Jean and Lucien ran through the rain.

Finally reaching the house they went in and after depositing the groceries on the kitchen table, Jean set about making them a pot of tea.

“Um, just how well did you know my father?” Lucien asked suspiciously as his eyes followed her around the kitchen. “You seem to know your way around his kitchen alright.”

“You remember that ‘fat old biddy’ of a housekeeper you mentioned?” There was silence as she smiled and pointed toward herself. “Jean Beazley. I live upstairs”

Jean saw his eyes widen in understanding. “Oh! I do apologise!” He covered his face with embarrassment.

Jean waved him away. “You weren’t to know. Now. While the kettle’s boiling I think we would both be wise to get out of these wet clothes, or we’ll both catch the influenza” She turned on her heel and left Lucien wide eyed and slack jawed staring after her.

As Jean peeled herself out of her wet clothes, she thought about the golden haired man downstairs. With his beard and casual approach he couldn’t be more different to the old Doctor Blake. He had hardly spoken of his son in all the years Jean had worked for him. But she knew Lucien had been in the army and had been taken as a prisoner of war. And it showed. Doctor Blake Junior was thin, his face was taut and gaunt as if he hadn’t had enough to eat and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken in. Jean wondered how long it had been since this man had had a good meal and a decent sleep.

Once dressed she headed back down the stairs to find the younger Doctor Blake still sat at the table in his wet clothes. She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Crossing to the kettle she called over her shoulder. “How do you take your tea?”

“White with two thank you kindly.”

“Ah a sweet tooth, like your father.”

Lucien said nothing as Jean spooned two sugars into his tea cup. She stirred it and placed it in front of where he sat at the table. She arranged a few pieces of her homemade shortbread on a plate and joined him at the table.

“Didn’t feel like changing into dry clothes Doctor Blake?”

“Ah, Well I don’t exactly have much with me right now. My trunk was delayed. And please, I thought I asked you to call me Lucien. It must be odd for you to have another Doctor Blake in the house.”

Jean ignored his correction. “Well you can’t be comfortable in wet clothes? Why don’t you go find something in your fathers room, for now.”

Lucien looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t set foot in my fathers room in over 20 years,” he mumbled.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid!”

“Doctor Blake…” He threw her a dirty look and she reached out to touch his hand. “Lucien" she spoke quietly and gently… "Your father is gone. He’s not going to tell you off for entering his room. You’re going to have to sooner or later.”

Lucien looked at where her hand rested on his. “You’re right Jean, of course you are. I just…” his voice trailed off.

“Shall I come with you?”

Lucien stopped staring at their hands and met her eyes, “You wouldn’t mind?”

“If it gets you out of those cold wet clothes I would be more than happy to.” Jean stood. “Come on.”

Lucien followed her down the hallway and they stopped outside a closed door. Jean turned to Lucien and was surprised to see his hands were shaking.” “You alright Lucien?” she closed a hand over his shaking one and somehow ended up with her hand enveloped in his.

Lucien didn’t answer, just took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Once inside the room he paused, and there was silence as he surveyed the room. Then all of a sudden he dropped her hand and started for the wardrobe. Pulling out a shirt he began to unbutton his wet one.

Jean's cheeks flushed and she instinctively looked away. “I’ll uh, leave you to change shall I?” But he didn't answer, or even acknowledge that she had spoken. It was almost as if he’d forgotten she was even there. She risked a glance back at him, as he pulled his wet singlet over his head and Jean gasped involuntarily as she glimpsed the silver criss-cross of scar marks over his back. Shocked, she turned her back to him and moved toward the door.

“Bring your wet things back with you and I’ll put them with mine to be washed,” she called over her shoulder as she closed the door and leant against it. ‘Were those marks from his time in the camp?’ Jean wondered. She exhaled heavily and tried to push the image out of her head. She headed back to the kitchen, where she warmed her cold hands on her tea cup and waited.

When he returned a few minutes later Lucien was dressed in brown slacks, a white shirt and a mustard cardigan that Jean recognised all too well. She smiled nervously at him after his erratic behaviour in his fathers room. But he didn’t seem to even think anything of it. “That cardigan was one of your fathers favourites too.”

Lucien looked down and picked at the cardigan but said nothing.

Jean sipped her tea and decided to change the subject. “So. What was the plan with the groceries?"

“I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to offend you. You’re obviously a capable cook.” He took a piece of shortbread from the plate she had prepared earlier and bit into it. “A very capable cook.”

“Thank you.” Jean looked again at the groceries. There was a celery, some carrots, a loaf of bread, a jar of strawberry jam, some apples, a box of tea, some eggs and a block of cheese.

“What on earth were you planning on making with all of this? It’s the most curious assortment of items.”

Lucien looked at the groceries. “To be honest I really had no idea what I was going to do with any of it. I just bought things that I wanted. I haven’t bought groceries for myself in years.”

Jean smiled “Well then, Lucien. Maybe a cooking lesson is on the cards for this afternoon. Unless you just want to eat cheese on toast for dinner?”

Lucien met her eyes and smiled softly. “It wouldn’t be the first time, I’m not ashamed to admit it. Nothing wrong with a good grilled cheese sandwich.”

Jean’s stomach flip flopped as she felt his warm smile flood her senses. The first true smile she had seem from him, one not tinged with sadness or exhaustion. She forced her eyes from his and drained her tea cup. “Well I’m sure that along with the cheese on toast, we could put together a soup from the celery and carrots, and I know there’s some leftover roast chicken in the fridge that could easily be added. And for dessert we could probably make a passable apple tea cake with a strawberry jam filling.”

“Mrs Beazley, you’re amazing. To create some kind of order from my chaos.”

Jean felt her face flush at his easy compliment. She’d have to be careful. Lucien Blake could be trouble.

Also on

Ao3 and ff.net

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Walsh

PART ONE:

Warning: smut, violence, gore, breaking and entering, sarcasm. So much swearing. Mentions of Shane c*ck.

Kennedie Gunner was Lori’s best friend throughout high school as Shane was Rick’s best friend. The two often saw a lot of each other, more than Kennedie appreciated most days. She lived down the street a little ways from Rick and Lori, and visited every chance she got. She and Lori would spend nights together if Rick was pulling a double, as Lori never felt safe alone.

“Morning Kennie! Hey, Rick’s planning a little backyard barbeque if you’re interested.” Lori smiles as she pats the seat next to her. “You want to go grocery shopping with me?” She asks, flicking the list on the table.

“Sure!” The Gunner woman cheers, grabbing her small purse and leaving out behind Lori. Carl had gone to his friend’s house for the night, excited to kick off summer.

“So first stop is the liquor store. You want to make mimosas? Or?” The brunette asks as they drive towards town.

“Whatever you want. I’ll buy booze, Lo.” The blonde offers with a smile. Lori nods in acceptance because she knows Kennedie will fight dirty to the end. As they make a right, too busy talking that Lori forgets a turn signal, a police car lights the two up and Lori groans.

“Mornin’ ladies.” That voice could make Kennedie’s blood boil.

“Morning, Officer Walsh, Officer Grimes, what did I do?” Lori asks, rolling her eyes and giggling. Kennedie wasn’t giggling.

"Miss Gunner, you still look stunningly pissed off, as per usual.” Shane calls across to her, giving her a nod.

“And you still look like a douchebag, Walsh.” She snorts, rolling her eyes as she gives him a sarcastic smile.

“Always a pleasure, Ken.” He nods, pushing back his short curls.

“Yeah, never is.” She bites, flipping him the bird.

“Anyways, gals. I noticed you didn’t use a turn signal back there.” He drawls, and Lori giggles to Kennedie with a smile on her face.

“Jesus christ, Shane. Why don’t you go do some actual police work instead of hitting on your married partner’s wife!” She jabs, and Shane stalks to the other side of the car.

“Is that illegal drugs I smell?” He asks, popping open the door and unbuckling her. “Stop out of the car, ma’am. You don’t have any weapons or drug paraphernalia on ya, right?”

“No. I don’t, asshole.” She nips, letting Shane kick her ankles apart.

“Guess I’d better check, huh?” He asks, pushing his hands down her body roughly. A shiver breaks through her and she sucks in a breath. It doesn’t go unnoticed as he steps away. “Must be the smell lingering in the car, huh? You ladies have a great day. I’ll see y’all tonight.” He chuckles, sashaying back to the car like he hadn’t made the hair on her neck stand up.

“Bye Shane! Bye honey!” Lori calls as they head towards the store. “You two love to rile each other up. You get him going, then he gets you going; it’s hilarious honestly.”

“I can’t stand that awful man. He’s so fuckin’ annoying. He walks around like his penis could save the human race. News flash, buddy! It’s probably nothin’ special!” She berates as she heads into the store with Lori.

As she and Lori finish up dinner, she quickly jogs to the bathroom to change into shorts and a bikini top. Lori had said they’d swim if it killed them. The sweet brunette meets her at the sliding glass door in her bikini and two mimosas in her hands.

“Girl, yes.” She heaves, slipping a glass from her hand and taking a sip.

“Hey, so question. Rick and I were to vacation would you be okay to watch Carl? It’d only be a weekend. Rick wants to go away for our fifth anniversary but he wants a little escape.” Lori’s cheeks flame cherry red.

“I’d love to!” She cheers, patting Lori’s knee before they both find their way into the pool. Getting settled into some floats, sunglasses on, and mimosas in hand, the two women float around the pool.

“Fire in the hole!” Shane’s deep voice carries through the breezeway before he jumps off the deck, landing directly on her float and sending her careening into the pool, mimosa soaring through the air.

“Walsh!” She yells as she comes up for air. Swimming over to him, she grabs his neck and drives him under the water. He allows her to try for another minute longer before he physically stands up and drags her out of the water with him. As she huffs and tries to swim away, his finger expertly hooks her bikini top and tugs. As she starts to stand up, her breasts are on full display for him and she gives a shriek. “You are such a pig!” She cries, face flaming red from embarrassment as she scoops her top from the water and ties it on.

“Damn, why such a prude baby? That was probably the first time another man ever saw your tits!” He calls, mockinggly gripping at the air like a pair of breasts.

“Dammit Shane. You’re always such a bully.” Rick groans as Lori heads in after her.

“She’s just sore, that’s all. She’s too closed off.” Shane gripes as he sits with Rick to drink a beer.

“Either way, listen. Me and Lori are going away for our fifth anniversary, okay? And Kennie’s in charge of Carl, but will you just check up twice a day? Sometimes he gets to be a lot for one person, yeah?”

Shane’s eyes meet Rick’s and he snorts a little.

“Rick, she’s a grown woman.”

“Yeah, but you gotta at least watch the lights, man. Women can’t shut off lights. Also, go say sorry, man.” Rick jabs a lazy finger at the larger man who only chuckles in response.

“What? Nah, man. She’s a grown woman.” He laughs, taking another drink. Rick finishes dinner on the grill and the four adults sit down to eat in the dim glow of the sting lights.

“Sorry, Ken. I’m sorry for earlier. I did not know you were a sensitive little girl.” He snorts, she grabs a piece cheese and tosses it at him. He just laughs, snatching it and sticking it to her bare chest.

“Don’t you have ass waiting for you, Walsh?” She nips.

“Nah, you wanna be?” He licks his bottom lip and wiggles his brows at he.

“A comedian? That’s very impressive. A sheriff. An asshole. And a comedian. You must be a popular man at parties.” She nods, throwing her head back in laughter.

“That’s right.” He nods, giving her his big, gorgeous smile he used on other women, and for a millisecond, he thought he saw a flash of something more behind those sarcastic, rolling eyes.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna head home you guys. Thank you for dinner! I’ll be over Thursday night then?” She asks as she rises from the table. Shane rises as well to Rick and Lori’s surprise.

“Can I walk you home? It’s dark.” He states, giving Rick a little smile.

“Are you really that much of a lightweight? No you’re not walking me home.” She nips, shoving him away as he steps closer to her.

“Good night, Kennie.” He coos, waving goodbye.

“Shut up, Walsh.” She grabs her purse and heads for the door. Lori does follow, giving her a big hug and offering to see her Thursday.

“Yeah, we plan on leaving Thursday night when Carl gets home from school.” Lori talks as she walks with her best friend out the door.

“Got it! I’ll pack my stuff then and see you guys Thursday!” She cheers as she heads down the street. A car circles her but drives away. Finding it odd, she grabs her pepper spray that Walsh had forced her to take a few years ago.

“Weird.” She states as she goes in and shuts the door. Turning on her alarm system, she double checks the windows before heading to bed.

Thursday morning comes and she packs her suitcase before loading into her car. Driving down the street to Rick and Lori’s, she pulls in behind Rick and Shane’s cruiser. A moment of realization hits when she sees Walsh in the passenger seat eating fries.

Ducking down under his view, she tries her best to hide but when she hears the door click open and shut she sits up and gives him her best unimpressed face.

“Good morning, you prude. What are you here so early for? Rick and Lori are probably gettin’ it on, so I might suggest not going in there. Unless you’re into that. We could have an orgy on the couch.” Shane wiggles his brows, giving her a stupid grin.

“I’m not orgying with anyone who tries to hit on me with ketchup on their face like a man child.” She laughs, shoving at him as she gets out and grabs her suitcase.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks as he slips the case from her hands and carries it to the door. Her hands go for the handle, but Lori’s greeting interupts her.

“I don’t hate you. Dislike? Oh yeah. Hate? Uhm, no.” She answers as Lori meets her at the door with a wild grin.

“Come in!” She cheers, swinging open the door. Shane snatches her suitcase and carries it in for her.

“Walsh? You okay?” She asks, looking to him with confusion written across her face.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re being nice and I want to throw up.” Kennedie nips at him, raising her brows.

“Because the confused look on your face is worth it.” He snorts, dropping it onto the couch. A little black piece of lace sticks out so far that he hooks it with his index finger and gives her a wink.

“Shit, you wanna put ‘em on? Show me how they look?”

“Oh, Christ. Fuck off.” She barks, snatching the black panties from his finger and stuffing them into the bag before storming away from him. His laugh carries, egging her on. For a split second, Shane could imagine her in those black lace panties and his breath hitched.

“I guess Rick and I are gonna head out a little early since you and Shane are here. Shane offered to get Carl from school today and tomorrow. Didn’t you?” Lori asks with a very prominent nod.

“Yeah, I figured why not. Carl likes the cruiser better than your Honda anyway.” He prods, licking his lips again, hand running over his mouth and stubble. Of course Kennedie could tell what she was doing.

“I bet. I bet you use Carl to pick up girls on your way here too, don’t ya?”

“Yeah, it ain’t worked on you yet, you grannie.” He digs, winking at her before he tugs on his utility belt. “Some of us have to work, so. I’ll get Carl from school, try to be decent when we get back.” He prods, jabbing a finger at the lace panties still in her hand. “Carl doesn’t need to see that stuff.” Balling them up, she throws them at Shane, watching them hook onto a button on his uniform.

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, snatching her panties away once more before heading to the living room to put them in her suitcase.

“You two enjoy each other’s company! Thanks again!” Lori calls as she and Rick barrel out the door to their car.

“Enjoy your company? That’ll be the day.” She huffs, flipping on the TV to a music channel. Shane hadn’t noticed he was staring until she looks up from cleaning up the living room.

“Why do you hate me?” He asks softly, leaning his hip against the door jam as he cards through his thick, dark curls.

“Because you treat women like objects. They only need three essential things and none of them are a personality or a heart.” She offers as she puts the books on the shelf and stacks his toys in a bin.

“I’m not as bad as you think.”

“You left Rick’s christmas party last year with one of Lori’s friends. You left Fourth of July, broke Carl’s heart, because he wanted Shane to go to the fireworks with him, because of pussy. You left the Labor Day party for pussy. You left Carl’s fifth birthday for pussy. So I love that you’re trying to connect with me for some weird reason, but Shane? You only have one thing on your mind and I won’t be a notch in that stupid utility belt.” She states matter-of-factly as she wipes down the counter.

“You’re just jealous.”

“No I’m not and it pisses you off. You can’t get to me and it bothers you doesn’t it? I’m the one woman in the entire world who isn’t drooling over your dick.” She chuckles as she wipes down the couple dishes in the sink.

“I’m really not into you. Somewhere in that sick little mind you’ve created this fantasy that I’m in love with you.” He points to his own temple as if to signal she’s crazy.

“Oh sure, I did. I heard you hold your breath when you saw those black panties. Somewhere in that sick little brain of yours, you’re imagining what I look like in those. Don’t ya?” She asks, giving him a dirty smirk. Storming up against her, he gets in her face and she doesn’t back down.

“You bet. And all you think about is that Walsh dick. Right? You want some?” He growls, his body against hers.

“No thank you, Shane. But I appreciate the offer.” She coos, giving him a sweet smile before slipping past him. “Bye! See you in a couple hours!” She calls as he storms out the house.

As she hears a car pull in the driveway, she looks out to see Shane and Carl grinning and laughing, Carl’s face covered in blue around his mouth. Heading out the front door to greet them, a stern look as her arms cross over her chest.

“OH shoot. Run little man. Kennie’s mad!” He grabs Carl’s hand, trying to run away.

“You two get in here. Shane! He had ice cream?” She whines, waving to the blue stain around his mouth.

“It was only a little. We shared one scoop.” He offered.

“Carl, are you hungry for dinner? There’s enough for you too, Walsh.” She states as she leads Carl into the house and wipes off his face.

“You wanna wipe off my face too?” Shane calls. She just huffs, rolling her eyes as she sets a couple plates down.

“Are you eating?” She asks, eyes never leaving the chicken on the stove.

“Can I trust her cookin’?” He whispers loudly to Carl, catching her attention.

“Yeah. She’s a good cooker.” Carl assures in a loud whisper.

“A’right. I’ll stay.” He nods like he’s doing her a favor and sits at the table, unclipping his utility belt and hanging it over the chair. They eat in silence, not much to say.

“At school today, this girl told me that she thinks I’m cute. I told her what you say uncle Shane. Cute’s my middle name.” He giggles, “and then she kissed me on the cheek uncle Shane!” He cheers, earning a hand shake and a laugh from the large man.

“Oh that’s great, Walsh.” She chimes, giving him a dark look.

“Nice job.” He smiles, patting Carl’s head. Forking a chunk of chicken into his mouth, he moans at the delicious flavor and when she looks across to him confused he just nods to Carl, “you were right. Good cooker.” Shane nods, talking with his mouth full.

They finish their meal in quiet, Shane shooting Carl funny faces every now and again, making him giggle.

“Thanks for dinner.” He nods as he rises to his feet, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

“No problem.” She smiles, grabbing the dishes up and heading to the sink.

“Hey Aunt Kennie?” Carl asks, looking to her as he brings his plate over in two little ketchup-covered hands. “Momma says you and uncle Shane won’t date a’cause you’re too stubborn. What does stubborn mean?” He asks, looking up holding his plate.

“Me and uncle Shane can’t date because he’s a womanizer, okay?” She explains, putting his plate into the sink with the other two. Shane coughs, drawing attention to himself. “What?” She asks very plainly.

“You can’t tell a five year old that his uncle is a womanizer.” He retorts.

“I just did.”

“What’s a womanizer?” Carl asks, looking to Kennedie for the answer.

“It’s when a guy treats women, not nice.” She improvises, deciding ‘like toys’ wasn’t the best answer.

“Oh, uncle Shane can’t be a woman fighter, he’s too nice. He changed an ol’ girl’s tire the other day.” Carl responds, holding out his hands to be washed.

“Not a woman fighter, hun, a womanizer.” She chuckles, looking over her shoulder to see Shane laughing softly to himself.

“Uncle Shane, are you taking me to school tomorrow?” Carl asks as she wipes away the ketchup from his hands and fingers.

“Sure, bud. I’ll be here at seven-thirty, okay?” He asks, crouching down to Carl level. Carl nods, hugging the officer before letting Shane rise to his feet and head to the door.

“See you in the morning, Walsh. And don’t be early. I’m not a morning person.” She nips, jabbing a finger at him.

“So six is good then?” He asks as he walks out the door and closes it behind him.