#I’m like 90% sure you lives down under before

[ssreeder]

SREEDIE YOU UPDATED and I haven’t even read the last chapter yet…

in my defence, I have moved countries so uh… keep waiting for me, my love, I shall soon return from the war <3

YOU MOVED?!??? I demand details please. I’ll wait forever for you my reekie-leekie. <3

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[reverie-starlight]

{airport pickup - michael kaiser }

I saw this vid and immediately knew I had to write something inspired by it.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, lots of fluffy fluff, I’m extremely down bad for one (1) Michael Kaiser and it shows in this fic. reader speaks a bit of german. if he’s extremely out of character to a horrifying degree, just know that I haven’t actually read the manga, he just takes up 90% of my brain. I’m working on it I promise 🥹

dividers by @/cafekitsune

kaiser isn’t used to being on this side of an airport pickup.

normally the roles would be reversed- he’d be coming home after a round of away games, tired and sore after pushing himself, and you’d be waiting past the gates with a smile and open arms looking like the epitome of home.

but today it’s him who is nervously glancing at his phone every few minutes, checking the time, waiting for a notification from you to see if you’ve landed or not.

you've been away for work, a conference of some sort that you had been handpicked for. he’s very proud of you, of course, but now he’s had a taste of what you must feel while he’s away and it makes his heart hurt. at least when he's overseas with his team he has constant distractions and he's often too tired to fully register the loneliness that comes with not sleeping beside you at night.

but now that he's on the off-season, training doesn't take up as much of his time and he's forced to confront a house that doesn't quite feel like a home without you.

all he wants is for you to be in his arms again. to hear your laughter, your slightly off-key singing while you’re doing chores around the house.

he’d wonder if this is really how you feel when he goes away, but he’s confident enough in your feelings to know that it is. and it pains him.

next time he travels he’ll insist on bringing you with him. he doesn’t want you to suffer through it anymore.

kaiser waits another ten agonizing minutes before your text notification goes off and he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to unlock it as fast as possible. he curses under his breath when he almost drops it and clings to it with both hands for extra security.

he’s glad he chose to go with the makeshift disguise, because he’s not sure if he’d ever live it down from you or his team if someone were to catch him in this state of desperation and post it.

(although you’ll probably laugh and call him a dork regardless of a post when you realize just how excited he is to see you. he’s counting on it, actually.)

plane landed, heading to baggage now :))

he breathes a sigh of relief and quickly lets you know where he's waiting.

how many times has he been to this airport? it must be somewhere in the thousands by now. how pathetic is it that he can't go find you without risking getting lost? he makes another mental note about learning the general layout in case this ever happens again.

knowing that you're safe and in the same building fills him with more unbearable anticipation. just as he's decided he's had enough and gets up to look at the signs that will lead him to you, he catches sight of your familiar figure and bright luggage.

your eyes meet his and you both break into wide smiles, but as you examine him and walk over, faux confusion takes over your features. he narrows his eyes suspiciously, knowing you're up to something.

"excuse me, sir," you say. "could you help me find someone?"

kaiser sighs, playing along with your antics. "no promis-"

"he's tall, has blonde hair with blue dyed tips," you cut him off, mischievous intentions clear as day to him. "kind of handsome?"

he rolls his eyes affectionately. "sorry, I don't thi- kind of handsome?"

you burst into laughter at his incredulous expression, unable to keep the act up.

"liebling, I think you mean extremely handsome, hm?"

you shake your head. "nah, not really."

he glares at you and squishes your cheeks together between his palms. "nimm das zurück!" his tone is playful, so you feel confident enough to stick your tongue out at him.

you pry his hands away from your face and happily let him wrap them around your waist. "du bist so leicht zu necken, michael," you card your fingers through his hair and he hums.

"missed you," he admits, finally feeling at peace.

"I missed you too, schatz. can we go home now? I'm jetlagged and in need of affection I don't feel comfortable displaying in an airport."

he nuzzles his nose against your hairline and presses a quick kiss there before resting his cheek on your head. "I'm already home, süße."

he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes, but he knows you're touched by his words from the way you pull him closer and hold him tighter.

turns out you’re already home too.

translations:

nimm das zurück! - take that back!

du bist so leicht zu necken, michael - you're so easy to tease, michael.

süße - sweetness/sweet thing

liebling, schatz - dear, treasure

thank you @dira333 for checking the translations over for me <3

considering I haven't fully read the manga, it goes without saying that if he seems slightly out of character, that's why lol

hope you enjoyed!!

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie living together in their first apartment in LA. Its the 90’s its a heatwave in the 100’s everyday. The power grid is overwhelmed so the city has resorted to rolling blackouts.

It was Friday which meant it was their neighbourhood tonight. After work Steve stopped at the store and got beer, candles, and pizza to prepare for the night. He was meeting Eddie at home and they would have an hour before the lights were out.

“Hey baby I’m home.” Steve called as he slammed the door shut behind him.

“God its hot as balls Stevie.” Eddie yelled back dramatically from the kitchen. He made his way over and draped himself against the doorframe as he watched Steve kick his shoes off with a huff, his arms full of groceries.

“Oh hi Stevie love of my life who got me booze and dinner, how was your day? Oh sure of course i’ll help you,” Steve mumbled to himself giving Eddie a side eye and a hip bump as he made his way into the kitchen with the groceries.

Eddie followed closely behind him pulling him in close despite the heat and sweat on both of them, “Hello Sweetheart how are you? I love you. Thank you for the groceries.” He mumbled into the back of Steve’s sweaty neck.

Steve broke easily, turning around into Eddie’s grip after only an eye-roll. He leaned in and accepted his expected kiss unable to stop the smile that spread across his lips. “Your hair is cute.” He said as he pulled back resting against the counter.

“Why thank you hair professional Stevie darling.” Eddie batted his eyelashes and twirled a stray curl that had fallen out of the messy bun on his head.

Steve scoffed and pushed a hand against his face breaking free of his hold and going back to unloading groceries. “We should have a cold shower before we loose power. Then I was thinking we could go on the roof and look at the stars later.” He said it casually but Eddie saw the way Steve’s eyes nervously looked back at him over his shoulder.

“That sounds perfect, we can even bring the portable radio up with us I just stole new batteries from the store.” Eddie gravitated back into Steve’s space. “And Claudia just sent us that outdoor blanket she made.” His fingers danced up and down Steve’s waist.

“How romantic of you.” Steve teased, trying to squirm away when Eddie pinched his hip.

“You pretend to hate it but I know you are a hopeless romantic lover boy Stevie.” Eddie’s hand slid forward and pushed Steve’s hips back against his own. “I’ll always give you what you want though, because I love you so much.”

Steve was speechless at the sincerity of Eddie’s words. He instead turned around and kissed Eddie in a way he hoped showed how much he loved him.

After they parted ways, Eddie taking over in the kitchen to put away groceries and assemble their meal while Steve showered first. Once finished he decided to set up outside, dragging out the aforementioned outdoor blankets, portable radio and of course food. Once all was said and done he checked his watch: 7 minutes until the power cut. He listened and heard Steve humming to himself in the bathroom, so he lit a path of candles to the roof because he was romantic like that.

“Hello Romeo” Steve greeted him on the roof, 10 minutes later beers in hand. The cool bottles were already dripping from the heat, Steve wiped the excess water on the back of his neck.

“Hello sweet steviette, you look so beautiful under this warm eve’s moonlight.” Eddie crooned back, draping himself out dramatically and reaching a hand to Steve. He smiled at his boyfriend’s eye-roll and took the beers from his hands.

“Thank you nerd,” Steve said with an edge of sweetness to his voice, still leaning over into Eddie’s space for a quick peck,

They ate after that, both ravenous after their long days at work. It was a comfortable silence they sat in, so close their thighs touched. Eddie silently handed his crusts over to Steve and and Steve popped the top off another beer for him. And when they finished they lay together on their backs, hands intertwined as they looked at the stars.

“I love you, you know that right?” It was Steve who broke their silence first.

Eddie rolled onto his side, keeping Steve’s hand in his. “Of course I do.” He pulled it to him, placing a gentle kiss on Steve’d knuckles.

Steve turned his head to face Eddie, “Okay good, just making sure.” He smiled but Eddie could see the edges of worry in his eyes.

“Come here.” He tugged Steve over and into his arms despite the heat and the sweat covering both of them. “I love you and I know you love me back baby, forever and always,”

“Forever and always,” Steve agreed as he and Eddie both leaned into each other’s space until their lips were touching and a silly make-out began.

Eddie rolled on top of Steve attacking his face with kiss after kiss, on his cheeks, forehead, the bridge of his nose, his eyelids, and finally his lips. Steve deepened the kiss immediately hands gripping Eddie’s shoulders so insistently Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle against Steve’s lips.

“What?” Steve pulled back but only enough to ask.

“You loooove me,” Eddie dissolved into a fit of laughter, clinging to Steve and hiding his face in his shoulder as Steve laughed and tried to shove him off.

“Oh fuck off.”

[thatsdemko]

a sleepless night in monaco - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Charles leclerc x reader

warnings: just fluff(lmk if I’m missing anything!)

a/n: I’m sure this has been done somewhere along the lines but I didn’t dig deep enough into the ‘f1 imagines’ tag so I apologize! 😅 also feedback is appreciated if you have any🫶 cheers!

tossing and turning, irritation grew that you couldn’t drift into a deep sleep. the cool breeze from outside was blowing the makeshift curtains, that attempted to cover up the night life of monaco into your apartment.

your boyfriend, Charles, was sound asleep beside you. the light snoring escaping his mouth every so often made you smile, but also envious of his slumber. you watched his bare chest rise and fall during each breath, desperately wanting his body against yours, but there was no way of doing so without waking him up.

you let out a soft sigh removing the covers from your body deciding to take yourself somewhere else in order to not wake up Charles. you grabbed your phone off your nightstand, and headed into the living room making sure each step was carefully thought out to not wake up your sleeping boyfriend. but of course, he felt the mattress lighten causing him to stir awake reaching for you, to find you weren’t there.

he got himself out of bed now to go find you. he couldn’t think of a reason why you weren’t in bed with him. there was no argument or night shifts this week, so he couldn’t put a finger to why you were in the living room cozied up under the blankets channel surfing.

“come back to bed.” you heard the groggy soft scratched voice of your boyfriend, coming to the living room to try and take you back to bed with him.

“I can’t sleep, Charles. you have training early in the morning, go back to sleep.” you tried to push him away, but he kept pulling your arm to join him.

“baby, I can’t sleep without you.” he groaned pressing kisses to your hands in hopes of giving you some persuasion to join him. he wasn’t thinking straight after having been awoken from his deep sleep, but he knew with you out here, he couldn’t sleep.

“you’ve been sleeping without me for two nights, Charles. I haven’t been able to sleep.” it was true, you weren’t sure what was getting to you but it was now a third night with no sleep.

“how about I make you some tea? that might help.” before you could answer, he was moving into the kitchen to grab a kettle and adding water. you watched his back muscles flex reaching the top shelf where the tea bag’s sat.

“chamomile or peppermint?”

“you pick.” you yawned snuggling into the couch cushions while a rerun of an early 90s show flickered onto the screen of the television.

he walks away from the kitchen allowing the water in the kettle to boil, and it’s not long before he returns with two sweatshirts. one for him and one for you. he quickly tosses you one hearing the kettle scream, he grabs a mug and a tea bag beginning to make your tea just the walk you like it.

approaching you with the hot liquid contents he hands you the mug carefully, “this has sugar in it?” you ask taking a sip of the bitter chamomile tea.

“no sugar, it’ll keep you awake.” he replies settling down next to you on the couch, tugging some blanket into his lap. you don’t know what you did to deserve him to sacrifice his sleep for you, but you knew you would have to repay him.

“thank you, I owe you.”

he shrugs it off like it was nothing, because truth be told, he would do anything for you. you could be dying and he would retire from his race, that he was winning, just for you. that being said, making you a cup of tea and staying awake until you fell asleep, was not a big deal.

“it’s not a big deal.” he pressed his lips to your cheek watching you yawn and attempt to set the mug down on the coaster, he grabs it for you completing the action.

“now I’m sleepy, should we go back to bed?” you pulling the blanket off his lap draping it around your shoulders, your eyes fighting with sleep now.

“well now I’m awake.” he jokes grabbing the remote to turn off the television and your cup of tea for bed.

“come on, let’s sleep.”

[thepowerofswayze]

Crush

originally on ao3

pairing: mike schmidt (2023) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3K

warnings & info: 18+, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (both receive), you're abby's babysitter, reader wears a bra, compliments like "pretty"

summary: Abby can't help but tell you all of Mike's business- specifically, that Mike has a crush on you. Luckily, the feeling is mutual.

☆

You were tucking Abby into bed when you caught her staring at you, brows furrowed. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about?” You asked, tapping her nose.

The girl scrunched her face. “You’re really pretty,” she said, burrowing herself into the blankets. “It makes sense that Mike has a crush on you.”

Not sure you heard her right, you blinked, then laughed. “Very funny,” you sighed, giving her an eye roll and a smile.

“It’s true!” She was sitting up now, undoing all the work you’d put into tucking her in nice and tight. “He’s, like, extra weird around you, like, super fidgety and staring at you. And he fixes his hair before he opens the door every time you come over. And he’s all smiley on the phone with you. He’s never smiley.”

You tried not to betray the way your heart fluttered and instead put on a face like you're deep in thought. “Hm… Well, I’m not sure you’ve convinced me. But how about we talk about it when I’m back tomorrow? Right now, you should be fast asleep, girl.”

Abby was obviously not buying that you’d be willing to talk about it later- and, in fact, you were hoping she’d forget the conversation- but she yawned and lay back down, allowing you to re-tuck the sheets. Her eyes were already dropping as she said, “I’m right, you know.”

You gave her a nod. “I’m sure. Goodnight, Abby.” With a kiss on her forehead, you stood from her bed, turned out the lights, and slipped out the door.

As the door softly closed behind you, you made your way into the kitchen and started cleaning up from dinner. Abby’s words didn’t leave your head. Sure, kids loved misreading things or teasing their siblings, but Abby was a smart kid. She didn’t usually tell you lies. You shook your head, smiling a little at how the butterflies in your stomach stirred. Getting this worked up over intel gathered from a ten year old was silly.

That didn’t mean you thought about anything else as you worked, washing dishes and straightening the living room, picking up stray clothes and tossing them in their rightful places, sweeping the floor when you were done and still restless. An hour or two later, you collapsed on the couch, TV remote in hand. The only things on were Late Night, a rerun of 90s movies, and the infomercial channel. Seth Meyers tempted you from the NBC channel, but when you saw Clueless would start playing in 10 minutes, you settled on the movie reruns. You turned the volume up, just enough to hear it from the couch, then lay your head on the arm rest, doing a terrible job of keeping your eyes open.

It was like you blinked and the room was suddenly dark. In reality, it was hours later. You heard rustling, watching the figure in front of the now switched off TV turn toward you. “Mike?” You asked, knowing already from his posture and the way his hand ran through his hair that it was him.

“Sorry,” he said, mouth quirking up as he watched you stretch and yawn. “I was gonna let you sleep.”

You shook your head sitting up and patting the spot on the couch next to you. “‘S no problem,” you managed as he sat, letting your shoulder press against his. “How was work?”

Mike made a noncommittal noise, ducking his head as you turned to look at him, eyes adjusting to the lighting. The purple under his eyes wasn’t extreme, but it was there. Along with his permanently disheveled hair and week-old scruff, he looked the way the noise sounded. The exhaustion did nothing to hide how handsome he was, though, and you felt the usual rush of adrenaline as you kept studying him. “It was work,” he replied, hands fidgeting in his lap. “How were things here? I see you and Abby cleaned.”

You snorted, and you could swear he smiled genuinely. “Yeah, me and Abby.” You were fully awake now, eyes falling on his restless hands then flitting away to the blank TV screen, still warm. In your mind, a checklist appeared and you involuntarily checked ‘fidgety’ and ‘smiley’ off. “We worked on her homework. Oh, and we ate your leftovers… Sorry...”

He was looking at you now, one eyebrow raised as you gave him a grin that definitely didn’t convey any remorse. “I’m sure you’re so sorry,” he scoffed, eyes leaving yours but scanning your face now. ‘Staring.’ Check. God, this wasn't going to leave your mind, was it? “You didn't have to clean, you know. Thank you.”

Now it was your turn to make a noncommittal noise, accompanied by a shrug as you looked away. “No biggie. Helps me think, anyway.” When he ran his hand through his hair earlier, was that normal? Or was that a ‘fixes his hair when you come over’ occurrence, right in front of you? Suddenly his shoulder touching yours was all you could feel. You couldn’t live like this. “Abby said something funny, actually.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he hummed. “Yeah? What’d she say?”

Well, no point in dancing around it. “She seems to think you have a crush on me.”

You could swear Mike’s breath caught. Your shoulder left his as you turned to watch him now, eyes trained on his face. He glanced over at you, then focused on his fidgety hands. No way. “Oh.” There was no way. Your eyebrows raised as he wiped his hands on his jeans. The seconds ticked by. He was too quiet. “What, uh.” Another beat. You watched as he swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “What d’you… think about that?”

Mentally, you pumped your fist, and thanked the universe that kids were so committed to spilling everyone's secrets. “I dunno,” you responded. His obvious nerves were weirdly soothing to yours. Maybe it was the near confirmation that whatever this was, it wasn’t one sided. He was looking at you now, eyes a little wide at how close you two were, faces really only inches away. You could smell his cologne and the coffee on his breath. “I don’t think it’d be all that bad.”

“Yeah?” He barely breathed the word, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes dropped to your lips, and yours did the same to his. “Well.” His voice was low and thick, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I guess we’d probably have to do something about that.”

It was a slightly awkward, very Mike type line, but it might as well have been a Shakespearean proclamation of love the way your stomach did flips. “Probably,” you whispered back. “Definitely.”

His hand moved, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you were barely breathing now. You leaned into the touch, his hand cupping your cheek, his calluses rubbing against your skin. The look in his eyes was going straight to your head, and you leaned in, tilting as your noses brushed.

A second ticked by. He whispered your name. “Are you… you’re sure?”

“Mike,” you breathed, eyes half closed already. “Kiss me.” And he did.

His lips were a little chapped, you thought. He was kissing you gently, and the friction of his stubble against your face was actually kind of nice. His free hand was gripping your waist now, sure but gentle, and your own hands traveled from your lap to his chest, where his heart was beating so hard you vaguely thought he might have a heart attack. As one of your hands moved to the back of his head, tangling in his hair, he let out a noise and the air shifted.

It wasn’t anything crazy- a rather content sigh was all- but it went straight to your stomach. Then lower. You shifted, a hand on his face to guide him as the kiss deepened, while the other tugged at his hair. He reciprocated eagerly, and you faintly registered how sweet he tasted. Another noise escaped, not a little gasp or sigh like you’d both been letting slip, but almost a whine in the back of his throat. You weren’t gonna manage to pull yourself away at this rate.

He chased your lips as you pulled back, just a bit, for air. “Mike,” you murmured. His responding ‘Hm?’ was so eager, you almost dove back in right there, and his thumb on your hip bone just under the hem of your shirt wasn’t helping. But you wanted something else. “If you wanna… We should go to your room.”

His eyes were wide again, and he stood almost abruptly. “Yeah. Yeah, we- cmon.” He took your hand, leading you through the hall as if you weren’t at his house every weekday.

You’d been in his room before, but you’d never been on his bed. You’d never sat with your legs tucked beneath you as he kissed you, his hands now on your waist under your shirt, your hands pulling at his loose curls in ways that made that throaty whine come back. He was gonna be the end of you.

He tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you smiled into the kiss. “Okay,” you murmured, pulling back to take your shirt off. His breath was trembling as you threw the garment to the floor, immediately working on getting his shirt off, too. It joined yours, the start of a pile, and you barely had a moment before his lips were on yours again, his hands back on your waist, on the small of your back. Yours played with the top of his jeans, your thumbs hooking into his waistband. He shivered beneath your touch. “Off,” you murmured, working on his button and zipper. He helped you get them off, helped you get your own pants taken care of, so you both sat there in your underwear.

You looked at the tent in his pants, then back up to meet his gaze. He was looking at you with wide eyes, glancing from your face to your chest. Lower. He took it all in with the same awed expression. His hand traced your side, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him.

Mike’s hands loved to roam. He ran them over your hips, over your thighs, up your back to the clasp of your bra. He fumbled before it released and slid off easily. The air was cold, but his hands quickly came up to replace the fabric, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently.

He pulled back momentarily. “Can I…” The tremor in his voice was too good. It took everything in you not to interrupt him with another kiss. His voice was low, pleading. “I don’t have any condoms. But I can still eat you out.” Then, quickly, “If you want, I mean.”

‘If you want,’ he said. Was he crazy? “Yeah.” You kissed him gently- once, then again. “Yeah. I want that.”

You lay back on his pillows, which smelled overwhelmingly like him, and watched as he climbed over you. His mouth met your neck, kissing gently, trailing down to your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and you lifted your hips to let him tug them off.

Mike’s face was ridiculously reverent. Heat overtook your skin at the sight of him between your legs. He dragged a finger down the slick pooling on you, and your breath quivered. A kiss to your inner thigh. Then to the other one, stubble scratching the sensitive skin. Then his mouth was on you.

The feeling of his tongue tentatively lapping a stripe up your core made you squirm, breath ragged. He did it again, making sure to linger on your clit, then again and again. “That’s good,” you huffed out, and he sped up, the praise spurring him on. One of your hands found its way to his curls, while the other came to rest over your mouth. He sucked on your clit, and you let out a cross between a gasp and a moan. “Fuck, Mike.”

He answered with a groan of his own, obscenely pleased with the reaction he was getting from you. As he continued, one of his fingers slipping inside and pumping in time with his tongue, you bit one of your own fingers in a weak attempt to muffle yourself. His mouth was hot against you as he whined like this was just as good for him. Another finger slipped in, and your head pushed back. You gripped the sheets, chest heaving. “Just like that,” you gasped. The sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you and his mouth sucking on your clit filled the room, a vulgar combination. With his own muffled moans and your gasps added on, you were sure you’d lose your mind.

Your hips rolled up, just about riding his face and fingers. He let you, his free hand moving to cup your ass, his tongue still sucking and working even as he let you choose the pace. “Shit.” You could feel it now, the familiar sensation in your stomach. “Shit, Mike, I’m-” A gasp. “‘m so close.”

“Come on,” he murmured, not even pulling away, his voice reverberating against you. “Please.”

How was he begging for you to come? You glanced down at him in disbelief, and wow. He looked good like this. His head bobbed eagerly, his hair a mess where your hands had been, where one hand still was, his face flushed. You gripped his hair and he made a noise so indecent, it had your mouth falling open as your orgasm crashed into you.

He stayed on you as you rode out your high, slowing down his ministrations, fingers slowly pulling out of you. When you released your grip on his hair and he lifted his head, you were speechless. His face from the nose down was shining from the mix of your slick and his own spit. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking what was left of you off, and you all but growled as you pulled him up for a kiss.

He huffed as your hand traveled to the front of his boxers, feeling the wet spot he’d left and his fully hard dick underneath. You smiled into the kiss, continuing to feel him out. He made little noises into your mouth, and you drank them in hungrily. “Fuck,” he murmured, and you stopped.

Mike whined, his eyes searching yours as you pulled away. “Don’t worry,” you reassured him, just as out of breath as he was. “C’mon. Your turn.”

He just about scrambled to comply, switching places with you so he was lying where you had just been. You climbed over him, straddling his hips and leaning down to brush your lips. You traveled down to his neck, kissing and sucking, leaving marks that had him downright whimpering under you. Then, down to his boxers. You kissed him through the fabric before pulling it off with his help. He took in a breath as the air hit him, and you wrapped your hand around him immediately.

“Shit,” he breathed. You wasted no time stroking him, slowly at first, watching him squirm. Then, just as you sped up, you put your mouth on the tip.

Now it was his turn to put his hand in your hair. He was gentle, not quite pulling to the point of pain, but you could definitely feel how much he was enjoying you bobbing your mouth down his length, anything not in your mouth clasped in your hands. If his hand hadn’t been in your hair, he was vocal enough that’d you’d still have a very good idea.

“Fuck,” he babbled, whispering your name followed by a particularly desperate moan. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. It feels so good, so-” He cut himself off with a whimper, holding his hips down so he wouldn’t buck into your mouth, afraid he might hurt you. He was close anyway, and he told you as much in between breathless grunts and groans.

You removed your mouth and he whimpered at the loss before your hand replaced it, keeping up the rhythm as he dropped his head back. He stopped holding his hips down, bucking into your hand shamelessly. “Go on,” you encouraged. “Give it to me.”

He rambled on, your name on his lips as he climaxed and released into your hand. You kept going, guiding him through it as he came down, chest heaving. God, he looked too pretty with that hazy look he was giving you. You told him as much, and he flushed with a sheepish smile, pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed that way, kissing him as his hands squeezed your hips, until he pulled back smiling. “I should clean us up, probably,” he murmured. At your protesting whine, he shook his head and shimmied out from under you. “If we keep this up I’m going to stop caring about our lack of condoms.”

He disappeared into the connecting bathroom, leaving you with your mouth open and a new throbbing between your legs. He was right. If you two didn’t slow down, you were maybe a couple touches away from also throwing caution to the wind, which wouldn’t work out in either of your favors.

He returned with a damp washcloth, already cleaned up himself. You held out your hand and he wiped it off, then your thighs. He tossed the cloth in the hamper in the corner of the room, then rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a shirt and turning to you. “I, uh. This should be better than nothing, yeah?”

You held out your hands and he tossed it at you. “Thank you.”

He pulled on a pair of fresh boxers while you tugged on his shirt- it smelled like him, his cologne and something that just screamed ‘boy’. You watched as he made his way back to the bed and you scooted over, letting him climb in next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“You… you are staying. Right?”

You grinned, nodding at him. “Yeah. I’m not driving home right now.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, and he all but melted. “Besides, I wanna hang around with you longer. I like you, in case I hadn’t made it clear.”

Mike huffed a laugh, his hand sliding under what was now your shirt- you were never giving it back to him. Not until it stopped smelling like him, anyway. “Good. I like you, too. A lot.” He kissed your forehead, and you hummed, nestling into him as his thumb made lazy strokes on your hip. “Goodnight,” he whispered into your hair. You drifted off to the sound of his breathing.

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!reader x biker!Steve

Chapter 15: Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck

summary: tensions are high as the last few chapters come to a head. Now that Craig has you, and none of the gang knows where you are, panic ensues. Eddie has to deal with an unwanted interaction with an ex, while Steve finds out the truth about Charlene. Astrid gets a bad feeling and thinks Steve might be hurt, meanwhile you decide to take matters into your own hands and deal with Craig in order to escape. wc: 10.7k

masterlist playlist

WARNINGS: 18+ONLY, angst, a gun, typical series violence, gunshots, reader being held against her will, abusive ex, stabbing, hand to hand combat, some violence toward women (which I do not condone under any circumstances), manipulation, dark themes, reader fights back, revenge, hurt and comfort, sex with someone other than reader (not Eddie), premonitions, murder, being chased, aggression. protective!eddie, protective!steve, slightly gigolo!steve. Header photo is not meant to be reader.

author's note: In this chapter, I'm making up for the fact that 90's tow truck driver Eddie and the rest of the MC would've had beepers, but, alas, I failed to mention them before. I've been staring at this for so long now, I need to post it. Really hope you enjoy, and I look forward to hearing what you all think.

"It ought to be easy, ought to be simple enough Man meets a woman and they fall in love But this house is haunted and the ride gets rough you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above If you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love."

Tunnel of Love, Bruce Springsteen

-------

(This chapter starts of exactly where part 14 ended)

Just as Robin was about to reach out and catch Steve’s elbow, the bride, Daphne, jumped in front of her. 

“You made it! I’m so happy I could cry!” Daphne hugged her tight and, over her shoulder, Robin watched Steve and Charlene disappear into the crowd, helplessly. The wedding was packed, but she was sure she could find him as soon as she was done with a polite chat.  

She figured there wasn’t anything too bad that could happen in five minutes.  

A minute or two into acting interested in the conversation Daphne and one of her bridesmaids was having, Robin turned around to gesture at you��to make the introductions—-but you were nowhere to be found.  Daphne talked for a bit longer and Robin pretended to listen, but she was distracted, and the bad feeling in her gut was making her fidgety.

Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch ended, quickly to be replaced by What I Am by Edie Brickell, and Robin excused herself to go and look for you, apologizing to the bride profusely.  Telling Steve that Charlene was an obsessive psycho didn’t feel as important in that moment—-she knew Steve could handle himself.  But you? You were being stalked by a notoriously abusive ex and now Robin had no idea where you were. She should not have run off like that without you, and now she was kicking herself.

As Robin turned on her heel trying to spot you in the crowded lobby, Steve and Charlene were about to bypass the people on the dancefloor and make their way up to the hotel room.  Steve didn’t know what was happening, at first, when she made the bold move of grabbing his hand in the crowd and pulling him closer.

“Hey, hey now,” he said in her ear over the twang of the music.  “Should we be doing that where people can see us?”

Charlene sent her hand down to massage his cock, and then she leaned in and licked his earlobe.  “I don’t care anymore,” she replied, leading him out of the low-lit reception hall and down the hallway. 

Steve didn’t really know what that meant, and he hoped she wasn’t getting the wrong idea.  If she wanted to flush her marriage down the toilet—-awesome—-but Steve didn’t want to be the reason.  He had no intention to continue to see her after that evening, unless she was paying him, and he had every intention of making that clear in the elevator, but then she was on her knees with his cock in her mouth and he forgot what he was going to say.

—----------

Eddie rumbled into the parking lot on his chopper, ignoring the valet as he tried to tell him which way to go.  He parked as close as he could to the building, sliding in next to a limousine, even though there was no parking space there, and gave a blank stare to the guys who were about to try and ask him to move it.

He yanked the main door open, eyes darting around the people in the lobby.  He had no idea where to start looking for you, and that filled him with a frustration that made a growl escape his chest. The crease in his forehead softened when he felt two arms go around him from behind, but then one glance down at the hands, and he knew it wasn’t you. 

“What the—” the relief he felt at the idea of turning around to kiss you was abruptly stifled.

“Hey baby,” Melanie cooed.  She reached up to brush his bangs off his forehead like she used to in the old days, but Eddie moved his head away and blocked her hand.

He looked around before leaning forward to whisper curtly, “you just can’t take a hint, can you?”

Melanie settled back, bracketing her hands on either side of her hips.  She had on an impossibly short, sequined lime green dress with dark red lipstick and it looked like she should’ve been on a stripper pole, not at a wedding.  “Why do you hate me so much, Eddie? I gave you the best years of my life, the least you could do is be civil with me.”

Eddie frowned, moving to walk by her.  

“Please, Eddie!” She screamed it, catching his arm.

Eddie hitched his shoulders up to his ears in frustration, cringing at the way so many people turned to stare at him.  He moved in a circle, checking the crowd for you as he went, and then came back to face Melanie with weary reluctance.

“What do you want from me, Mel?” He asked, hoping it would be a quick fix so he could continue on with his night.  

Melanie slid the tip of her tongue along her top lip.  “Listen, I know I hurt you, okay? I know it was bad.  But I’m a totally different person now, I’ve changed.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Good for you.  What does that have to do with me?”

“Let me prove it to you,” she reached for his arm again and he let her hold it this time, hoping to speed things along.  “Have a drink with me and let’s talk.  I really miss you, Eddie,” she could tell he was about to interrupt and she put her hand up to stop him.  “You told me once that I was the love of your life, that you’d never love anyone more than me, and I know a part of you meant it.”

Eddie cringed at the memory of the young, impressionable boy he was back then, so pussy drunk that he didn’t know which end was up.  Did he mean it when he said it back then? Yes, from the bottom of his horny soul.  Did a part of him still feel the same way? Not a single drop.  What he’d felt for Melanie all those years ago paled in comparison to the level of devotion he had for you.  He was a man now, determined not to make the same mistakes that plagued him in his boyhood.

Eddie took a deep breath, eyeballing the crowd again.  “Okay, listen to me,” he took hold of Melanie’s bare arm, holding her firmly, and tilted his chin down to look her directly in the eye.  “What we had has been long over for years now.  I don’t know what I’ve done to possibly lead you on to believe there could ever be anything between us ever again, but I need you to get it through your fucking head that I don’t love you anymore.  Things will never be like they were.  I wish you well, but I don’t want you in my life, even as a friend.  I need you to respect this. Nod if you understand.”

“Do you not want me in your life because your new girlfriend will get jealous?” Her mouth fixed in  a mischievous grin, as if she’d completely missed the point of everything he just said.

“Fucking, goddamn it Melanie,” Eddie hissed, and then he ran both of his hands through his hair and gripped his fingers in at the roots, snapping his eyes shut to try and calm his frustration.  “I can’t do this right now, I’ve got more important shit going on,” he shook his head and dropped his hands, turning to head in the opposite direction.  “We’re done, totally done.  Forever.  I don’t want to ever see you again, Mel.  Don’t call, don’t show up.  Just go back to wherever and stay there. Have a nice life.”

He was a few steps away when she shouted to get his attention again.  “I know where your girl is, if that’s who you’re looking for,” she had her arms crossed and a bored expression on her face when he turned to regard her again.  “She left with some dude, if that means anything to you.  They were holding each other pretty close and if you ask me—-”

But the last word got caught in her throat as Eddie barreled down on her, gripping her arms so tight, his rings pinched her flesh. He shook her a few times, making her eyes go wide.  “You’re hurting me!” She balked.

“Tell me where they went,” he spoke with so much force, he accidentally spit on her.  

—----

Robin caught sight of Eddie and started to make her way to the other side of the lobby, relieved, but then she saw who Eddie was talking to.

She made a face and stopped in her tracks for a beat.  “Melanie?” She asked it to herself, under her breath.  Robin knew she was the last person on earth Eddie would want to see, let alone be standing in such close proximity to.  Eddie started to walk away, but then he turned back around and grabbed Melanie with a force that made Robin gasp.  He could be a violent person, sure, but never with women, and it worried her to think of what she might’ve said to him.

Everyone was getting drunker and more oblivious to the people around them, so she worked hard to maneuver her way through the clueless party goers as What is Love by Haddaway jolted from the dance hall.

“Hey, Eddie!” She cupped her hand over one side of her mouth to shout it, but then she watched helplessly from a distance as Eddie and Melanie went down the hall and disappeared from view. What the hell was he doing with her—where the fuck were they going?

—-----

Craig had a room in the hotel, and that is where he took you.  

As much as you were afraid of Craig, you also knew how to handle him in situations like this.  To fight him, to argue with him, would only make things worse.  He wasn’t the type to feel much empathy for any of the pain others felt; his pain and emotional distress were the only things that mattered. If you fought him, or if you tried to run, he wouldn’t hesitate to terrorize your friends.  The thought made you shiver—you couldn’t let him get his hands on anyone else.  He could take whatever he wanted from you in exchange for their peace.

Craig was also extremely stupid, and as long as you placated and went along with him—you’d have more time to think about your next move instead of struggling and wasting your energy.  You didn’t put it past him to drug you and throw you in the back of his SUV, so you put on your Academy Award winning “this is fine” face while your mind raced for a plan.

Once he closed the door to his hotel room and put the deadbolt on, he took you in his arms, pulling you in for an embrace.  “Ahh, now–isn’t this nice?”

You nodded against his shoulder as your eyes darted around for something sharp.  “It really is.  I’m glad you came to find me.”

He pulled away to smile down at you; thin lips stretching to expose perfectly white teeth. “See, now, there’s my girl,” he tipped your chin with the crook of his finger and then planted a kiss on your forehead.

You were sure he brought you up there to have sex with you, and the thought made your stomach churn—-you were prepared to rip his balls off before that happened.  Craig was really strong though, and he could kill a man twice your size with his bare hands, so you had to find a way to battle with your wits.

“Have a seat,” he motioned to the bed in front of the TV, and then he grabbed the remote.  “You wanna check and see what is on pay per view? We can order room service.  Are you hungry?”

Such normal questions for such an abnormal and unfortunate situation.

You sat down cautiously, keeping your back stiff and straight.  You noticed a huge black duffel bag sitting on the floor, and it looked like the type of thing he usually carried all of his weapons in. 

“This is okay,” you gestured to the episode of Three’s Company that popped on.  

He handed you the remote as he bent down to kiss your temple. “I’m going to wash my hands.  Stay here, alright?”

You gave him a wink.  “Of course I’ll stay here, sugar plum.  There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He sighed, offering a dreaming expression. “I’ve missed you so much, it hurts.”

“That’s sweet,” you offered, turning your attention back to the tv as he went around the corner to the bathroom.  You got up and walked slowly to the window to see what you could see, talking to him all the while to keep him satiated.  “I could definitely eat.  Maybe room service wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

You held the rod and slid the curtain open a few inches, realizing you were above the middle section of the parking lot.  Could you see your car from there? You didn’t have time to check; it was too dark and you heard the water shut off in the bathroom.

“Tsk, tsk,” he said, stepping back out into the hall so he could see you as he dried his hands off.  “Step back from the window, honey, I don’t want you to ruin our fun with one of your clever ideas.”

“Oh I was just curious,” you were casual about it, making a point to leave the curtain open a bit. “If any of my friends were looking for me.”

“Oh they might try,” he undid the buttons on the cuffs of his white dress shirt and rolled up each sleeve, exposing faded military tattoos on his forearms.  “But I booked this room under an alias.  Plus, no one saw us leave, so your friends will be scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off.” He emphasized the word “friends” in a sarcastic way, as if they weren’t that at all.  

“I’m sure they’ll just think I went home,” you said, which was the furthest from the truth.  You thought about Robin going crazy trying to find you.  You wouldn’t be surprised if she worked her way up every floor, knocking on every door.

He sat down on the bed next to  you with a bounce and took your hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it.  “Have I told you yet how beautiful you are tonight?”

“A few times,” you couldn’t help but lean away when he came in closer. “You told me downstairs and in the elevator.”

He wrapped his arm around the side of your hip and pulled you to him.  “C’mon now, give daddy some sugar,” he cooed, diving his lips in for another attempt.  

But you dodged him again.  You could feel yourself blowing it, and you knew you needed to comply in order to find a way out of this, but the thought of being intimate with him made you want to dig your own eyes out with a spoon.

“I don’t know if I’m ready…for that,” you managed.  “Too soon, I think.  Just give me a little time…to get used to you again.”

Craig grabbed your jaw, squeezing your mouth together so tight, your lips puckered, yanking your head to make you look at him.  His eyes were dark now, narrowing on you.  His tone was ice cold, “Oh but you’ll kiss him won’t you?  That filthy dirty biker?  You make me sick.” 

You swallowed hard, and in your mind, you considered the ballpoint pen next to the pad of paper on the desk.  If you could get a hold of it, you could stab him in the side of the throat.  

But, if you made the decision to wound Craig, you had to be willing to go all-in.  

You had to be willing to end him.

—-------

Steve waited to cum until he was back in the hotel suite.  Charlene got on the bed and sucked him off the rest of the way while she came using the vibrator she carried around in her handbag.  It turned Steve on to know that she always had it with her—he’d never been with a woman who was so incredibly sexually charged before.  

He came on her face, and then she licked it up and rubbed it down her breasts.  They got in the shower together after that, and the thought crossed his mind that he should go down and have a drink with you and Robin, but then his dick took over again and he forgot.  

The suite was huge, and while Steve lounged on the sofa in one of their complimentary robes looking over the room service menu, Charlene sat down on the bed to rub lotion on her legs.

She smiled over at him.  “The life of leisure looks good on you.”

Steve lifted his arms up and glanced down at himself.  “You think? Yeah, I could definitely do with some more of this.” The fridge was fully stocked with booze and sparkling water and other goodies, and Steve had raided it like a little kid at Charlene’s urging.  He was on his second fancy beer and third bag of pretzels.  

“You should come with me to Greece this winter,” she worked the lotion down around her manicured feet, feeling suddenly too shy to look at him.  “My friend has a house there, and we could charter a yacht, play on the beach, eat and fuck until we pass out. And then do it all over again the next day.”

Steve flipped the page on the menu, eyes glancing over the seafood section as he plucked at his bottom lip thoughtfully.  “Sounds good.  I’ll have my secretary clear my schedule.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed, rolling over onto her stomach to face him, kicking her feet up behind her.  “Wouldn’t you like to spend more time with me?”

Steve shut the menu and met her eyes.  “Well, sure, I mean, but I can’t just take off for a week to wherever, sweetheart.  This man of leisure is living paycheck to paycheck over here.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” she assured him, resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll pay your rent and whatever else you need. Give you some spending money. You won’t have to pay for anything, unless you want to buy me something pretty.”

“Yeah?” Steve smirked. “What’s the catch, angel? You gonna sell me to the highest bidder for some black-market organ donation once we get there?”

“No catch,” she shook her head.  “It’s just hard to find good companionship these days.”

He sucked his bottom lip through his teeth. It all sounded a little too good to be true, but he would be lying if he said the offer wasn’t tempting.  Fucking Greece? He’d only been out of the state a few times in his whole life, and it had all been for MC related stuff.  

“You could even bring Oliver,” she continued, looking down at the bedspread.  “I could pay for a nanny to travel with us, so we could have time alone.”

That made Steve frown, and he searched his mind for how she would know that he had a son, but then the moment passed.  He must’ve mentioned him at some point, accidentally.  

But Charlene seemed harmless enough.  Just a bored housewife with a smoking hot body.  

She got off the bed and slinked over to stand next to him.  He ran his hand up her leg under her robe until he was able to grab the apple of her ass, and then he spanked it.

“Did you decide what you want from the menu?” She asked, mussing up his hair. “Or we can still go out to dinner if you want.”

Steve tilted his head all the way back to look up at her, letting the menu slip to the ground. “Are you on the menu?” He asked, moving his hand around under the robe until his fingers found where they could sink in.

“For you? Always,” she said, and then she bent down to catch his mouth with hers.

—-------

Eddie had Melanie by the arm, and she tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he was way too strong---way too pissed off.  

“And then where did they go?” Eddie was scowling at the numbers on the three different elevators.  “Which floor?”

“I SAID I DON’T KNOW,” Melanie hissed, finally wiggling her arm away.  “Jesus. I never saw you worry about me like this before.”

“Fuck,” Eddie started to pace.  He was losing it, and he didn’t know where to start looking or how to find you.  He wanted to rip the whole building down with his bare hands.

Another man’s voice stepped into the equation.  “Hey, what the fuck are you doing to her? Leave her alone, you freak.”

Eddie spun around, eyes like daggers.  It was some douchebag he didn’t recognize in a tux, even taller than Eddie, with a lime green bow tie and cummerbund, clearly there for the wedding.  From the looks the guy was sharing with Melanie, it was probably her date.  

“Just stay the fuck out of it, whoever you are,” Eddie warned.

Melanie stepped back with a little smile on her face, enjoying the tension over her that was building.

“I asked you a question, man,” the guy in the tux with the short blonde hair said as he came up behind Eddie to jab his palm into the back of his shoulder.

Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Eddie turned and swung on the guy.  

Robin came into view and screamed, covering her mouth with her hands.  

Eddie’s fist was like a brick, and the guy went down hard. The elevator opened and the four people inside yelped as he crashed in, with Eddie in hot pursuit.

Two people rushed out of the elevator, but another couple stood huddled in the back corner, afraid to move.  Eddie lurched forward to grab the guy by the front of his coat and yanked him to his feet to pull him out of the compartment just long enough to send a jab to his ribs that made him double over, and then he pushed him down.

The elevator closed again with the frightened passengers still inside.  The rest was a blur for Eddie as he got on top of the guy and started wailing on his face.

“Eddie, stop!” Robin tried to grab his arm on the back swing and the force almost knocked her over, but she did not relent.  “DINGUS STOP!”

Somehow, the nickname seemed to snap him out of it, and, with a few sharp intakes of breath, Eddie got to his feet, panting, standing over the guy.  The dude on the floor was somehow still conscious, but he probably wished he wasn’t one side of his face was mangled where Eddie’s rings broke the skin and there was blood dribbling from his mouth.  

There were people gathered at the mouth of the hallway now, watching with slack jaws, and Robin was worried someone had already called the police.  “Nothing to see here, people!” She called out, waving her hand, begging them to disperse.  

Eddie was about to drop down and punch the guy again—just because—but Robin used all of her strength to forcefully push him back.

Eddie snapped his attention to Melanie and pointed at the guy on the ground.  “Is this yours? Both of you get the fuck out of here before I—-”

Robin had only ever seen Steve like this—never Eddie.  Normally, he possessed the most patience and composure out of everyone in their friend group.  

She slapped him softly on his cheek to get his attention.  “Hey, listen to me.  I need you to fucking focus right now,” and then she snapped her fingers in the air in front of his face.

Eddie huffed a few heavy breaths out his nose and adjusted his Coffin Kings leather over his white tee.  There was a sheen of sweat on his face and a few pieces of his hair clung to his cheek and forehead.  Melanie was able to help her date to his feet, and Eddie watched them go with hard eyes and flared nostrils, silently begging the guy to throw him a dirty look or say something stupid.  Thankfully, for Robin’s sake, the guy wobbled away with his arm over Melanie’s shoulder without a single glance back.

“Focus,” Robin repeated, snatching his chin. “Your girl is here somewhere, and I can’t find her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie jerked his head to evade her grasp.  “She’s with that fucking psycho and I have no idea where to start looking.” He shut his eyes tight and winced.  “I fucked up, Rob.  I should’ve killed that guy when I had the chance.  Now he has her.  If he hurts her, Rob….”

“Hold on,” Robin frowned as she took in the information, her body flushing with guilt.  “You know she’s with that Craig creep? How do you know?”

Eddie didn’t want to talk—he wanted to move.  

Outside, through the glass front of the building, he watched a police cruiser pull up through the crowd. It did have its lights on, and whoever was driving didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but all the same, he hit a button on the panel and took hold of Robin’s arm, ready to pull her in when the doors slid open. She followed his gaze to the two cops that were now heading into the building, and panic seized her.

It was taking too long for the elevator to come, so when the one across the way opened, they darted there instead.

A woman got out of the elevator as they stepped in and quickly hit the button for one of the higher floors.  A delivery driver carrying Chinese food was about to get in with them but decided against it at the last moment.  

Once they were alone, Eddie answered her question.  “Melanie saw them,” he breathed, falling back against the wall. “The description fits, and she said he had his arm around her,” Eddie cringed.  The thought of him touching you made him want to punch something.  

“Shit,” Robin said under her breath, feeling the thick weight of uncertainty hang in the confined space around them.  “You don’t think he’d actually do anything to her, do you?”

Eddie eyes glazed over and shook his head, concentrating, unable to form words.

“Nice dress, by the way,” he said, referring to the strapless blue number that she now regretted ever buying, let alone wearing.

“Shut up.” She returned.  

The doors opened at a floor that wasn’t theirs and Eddie told the two people waiting there to take the next one before he slammed the button again with the side of his fist. 

Robin started to gnaw at her thumbnail.  “Steve’s here somewhere too,” she let him know.  “He came with that Charlene woman, the one you used to bone.”

Eddie froze, giving her an incredulous look.  “And you let him?”

She held her arms out, raising her voice.  “I just realized who she was a little bit ago.  What am I, his fucking keeper?  Besides, she offered him so much money to take her to this stupid thing, I don’t think he would’ve cared.”

Oh, Steve would care if he knew the whole story, Eddie thought to himself.  And he’d really care if Charlene started targeting his family when he tried to end things with her or move on with someone else.  

When the elevator finally dinged and opened at the floor they chose, there stood Steve.

In a white bathrobe carrying a bucket of ice.

With his sunglasses on.

—--------

After being scolded by Craig, you disarmed the situation by pressing your lips to the side of his mouth. “Baby, why don’t you get comfortable so we can snuggle? Like we used to.”

He crawled on top so that you were both on the mattress.  You needed to build a decent level of trust with him in a small amount of time and letting him have some intimacy was the quickest way to do that. 

He got on his back, with his head on the pillow, and pulled you up alongside him so that your cheek was on his shoulder.  He lifted your chin to give you another kiss.  “Isn’t this nice?” He asked, rubbing his nose on yours.

“It really is,” you lied.

It took a lot not to try and scratch his face and knee him in the groin right then for what he’d done to you, for what he’d done to Jester.  For the pain that Eddie would go through when he couldn’t find you.  

But you found your center and took a cleansing breath.

You had formulated a part of a plan, but you had to be patient.

Soon.  

—---------

When Steve came back into the penthouse with the extra ice, he didn’t have the patience to wait for room service to bring, he was different, and Charlene noticed it right away.

She could see it in his face, the way he refused to make eye contact with her when she dropped her magazine to her lap to greet him and tell him their dinner was on the way.

Without a word, he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom.

“Stevie?” She called out to him, anxiety tightening in her chest. “What took you so long? Is everything alright?”

Steve shut the bathroom door first, and then he mumbled, “yeah, I’ll be right out. Just need a second.”

He let his robe fall to the floor and braced his hands on the edge of the sink, naked, letting the information Eddie had just shared with him in the hall absorb.  He tossed his sunglasses on the counter, so they skid across and landed against a hand towel folded in the shape of a swan.  

He ran the sink and splashed some water on his face, letting himself peek in the mirror at his reflection over the tips of his fingers.

As close as he was with Eddie, they weren’t in the habit of swapping partners, and if Steve had known that Charlene was that “rich, older woman he hung out with once in a while” a few months ago, he never would have gone that far with her in the first place.  

Water dripped cool down his tattooed chest as he looked down at his cock, lolling out at the triangle base of the muscular indents at his hips.  He patted a finger on the shaft so that it bounced.  “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he whispered to his dick.  

Not only was Charlene someone that Eddie had fucked, but she’d also tried to make Eddie’s life a living hell when he tried to move on with you.  She’d paid a private investigator to stalk Eddie, tried to break the two of you up, and was the reason you got fired.  Eddie warned him not to trust her, and to not let her sink her claws in and try to keep him like a pet.  

He put his pants on and wet his fingers to run them through his hair, squaring his shoulders at his reflection, wondering how he’d get the rest of his money out of her.  She’d paid half up front, but now he needed the rest, and then he wanted to get the fuck out of there.  Eddie and Robin were headed to do some investigating, and he said he’d meet them in the stairwell in about 20 minutes.  

Charlene was hovering near the bathroom door when he opened it, and she searched his face for a trace of the person he was before he went to get ice—but it was no longer there. 

Her Stevie was gone.  

“Hey,” he said as he brushed by her to put his shirt on.  He left it unbuttoned as he turned, fixing the collar.  “It’s late, I need to get going.”

“But,” Charlene looked around, her mind racing with ways to keep him there. “The food will be here soon.”

He’d been trying not to meet her eyes, but when he did, his stare was frigid.  “I’m not hungry anymore.  I just need you to pay me the rest of my fee, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He went to the couch to put his shoes on.

“Steve, please tell me what is going on? I thought we were having a good time, I thought—”

“You thought what?” He asked snidely. “That I’d do all this for free? Out of the goodness of my heart?”

He was about to be a real asshole, but then he remembered that he had enjoyed his time with her, and under different circumstances, he would’ve stayed to fuck her all night even if he wasn’t getting paid. But he had to end it—he needed to cut ties before things turned into a shitshow like they had for you and Eddie. He couldn’t afford that level of drama in his life, not with Robin and Oliver at risk.  

She rushed up to him and started kissing his chest.  “Can you just stay a few more hours? I don’t know what is bothering you, but I know I can take your mind off of it,” she sank lower, kissing his stomach, about to get on her knees.

“I said no,” he repeated, grabbing her arm to pull her back up to face him.  

“But, why—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you used to fuck Eddie?” He blurted, scowling at he ground.

A hard swallow clicked in her throat as she searched his eyes. “I-I didn’t think it would matter.  Eddie and I aren’t—”

“Is that why you bailed me out of jail? Was it all part of your maniacal plan to get back at him or some shit?”

“Absolutely not. Steve, I really care about y—” she reached out to touch his face, but he moved away, stepping further back.  He looked hurt and confused and disgusted all at once.  

“Don’t act like you give a shit about me,” he warned. “I don’t think you’re even capable of caring about other people.”

At that, she bristled, and her cheeks burned red. She froze so still that, if not for her blinking, one might have thought she’d turned to stone.

“You know what? Forget the rest of the fucking money,” he walked to the nightstand and put his wallet in his back pocket. “It’s not worth it to me anymore. I’ll chalk it up to a couple orgasms and a free meal.”

Charlene did not respond, she only wet her lips as her eyes stayed fixed on one spot on the carpet.  

He went over and paused his hand on his jacket that was hanging over the back of the couch. “Actually, I could probably sell this suit and makeup the difference so yeah—we’re even.”

When Charlene finally spoke up, her voice was different; it had an edge to it.  “You’re awfully ungrateful for someone who should be on their knees thanking me.”

Steve chuckled a low laugh. “Listen, baby, the sex was great, I’ll give you that, but it wasn’t that great.”

“I’m not talking about the sex,” she turned and tilted her chin up at him. “I’m talking about how you still have custody of your son and he’s not several states away with Tina right now.”

Now, it was Steve’s time to turn to stone.

When he finally blinked, he made a face like he was staring into the sun. “What the fuck did you just say? How do you know about my son? About Tina?”

Charlene would’ve said anything to make him stay, and she was oddly pleased that this did the trick.

She shrugged. “I know that it didn’t take much money at all to get Tina to come here and cause some trouble.  Shame she signed her parental rights away, but there are always ways around that, considering how much blood you have on your hands.”

Steve reeled back, almost knocked off his feet at the weight of the confession. He had to grab onto the back of the chair at the writing desk to steady himself as his head swam. Bile rose in his throat as if we were about to puke.

“You’re the reason I almost lost my son?” He whispered it, overwhelmed with the realization that Charlene was to blame for all of it:  Every disaster that had befallen them since the day Eddie met you.  All of the pain, all of the worry, all of the sleepless nights.  

Charlene folded her arms over her chest.  “If you think I can’t prove you have blood on your hands, try me.” Her eyebrows darted up a few times. “Eddie too.  He left a bloody fingerprint at the crime scene when he killed a man in my driveway.  All I ever do is try to keep the two of you safe, and this is the thanks I get?”

Steve’s mind barely had time to register that his body was moving—-he knocked the chair to the ground and lunged after Charlene.

His hands were around her throat so fast she could barely take a gasp of air at the end of her sentence.  He took her to the ground, slamming her into the floor.  She coughed and her eyes bulged.

“You tried to take my son away from me?” He was shaking; his eyes bloodshot with rage, but also wet with emotions. His lower lip trembled, and his face was beet red.  

She held onto his wrists where he was choking her, sputtering, trying to catch air.  She squirmed underneath him, but if her knees made contact with his stomach or groin, he couldn’t feel it.  

"Kill me," she gasped, and Steve released his grip a little but did not relent.

“I should kill you,” He hissed, searching her face.  He realized then that she had her hands locked on his wrists to keep him there, not to push him away.

“Please,” she wheezed.  “Please…kill me.”

With a string of curses, Steve pushed off of her and jumped back, planting his arm on the edge of the coffee table to steady himself as he tried to collect himself.

Charlene sucked in a few gulps of air and stayed on the floor where she was.  

Steve wobbled and stumbled a bit as he stood, trying to catch his footing. He looked down at his trembling hands, and then over at Charlene.  

“I'm sorry,” he breathed.  It took a few sold moment to find his composure. “Listen, stay away from me, stay away from my family. Stay away from my friends.  I won't tell you again.”

It had taken all of his strength to not crush her windpipe just then, and he hated that about himself.  He hated that, on top of everything else, Charlene was the reason he’d laid hands on a woman in anger for the first time in his life.  Wayne and Robin would be very disappointed in him, no matter the circumstances.

His son would be disappointed in him.

“Steve,” Charlene rolled over onto her side. “Please don't go."

He fixed his collar again and left the jacket.  He grabbed his smokes, and fumbled the lighter, trying to compose himself.  The thought occurred to him that he should go over and help her up and make sure she was okay, but then he remembered…then he remembered all of it.  

Without another word, he left.  Once he was out, and the door clicked shut behind him, she continued to shout his name and tell him she was sorry.  He could hear things being thrown around the room; the sound of glass breaking as it hit the wall.  Steve kept a quick pace, only faltering once to shoulder check his balance against the wall, dizzy, but was already in the stairwell as her declarations of remorse echoed down the hall.

—----

Craig ordered Chinese food from the restaurant up the street and had it delivered.  For a second you thought you might be able to get word to the delivery driver that you were being kept there against your will, but what would the delivery driver do? Get himself killed, probably, or pretend like he never saw you because who in their right mind would want to get mixed up in that?

It may have taken 20 minutes to eat your meal, but for you it might as well have been hours.  He liked to coach you on how big your bites should be and how long you should chew your food.  If you chewed too loudly or too fast, it would agitate him, and he’d stop you to make you start over.  

It was all you could do to muscle down each bite when you weren’t even hungry, and it took every ounce of your willpower not to scream.

The fortune cookies were interesting because the paper inside yours said “this too shall pass”, while Craig’s was blank.

“I’ve never seen a blank one before,” you said nonchalantly, closing the lid on your take-out container.  You could see the inconsistency was bothering him; he kept turning the paper over as if he’d missed it somehow.  With his obsessive personality, you expected him to call up the restaurant and ask for another cookie.  

But, he decided to let that one go and tossed the blank fortune into the pastick sack that the food came in.  

You knew he’d want to clean up the area right away and sanitize the table again, so you took your opportunity.

“Can I use the bathroom?” You stood up, picking a piece of sticky rice off of your dress.  

“May I,” he corrected, pushing his chair back exactly where it had been before he sat down. He lifted his eyebrow at you.  “May I use the bathroom is the proper way to ask that.”

Your throat was tight as you swallowed, biting back a rage that was surely bubbling in your eyes.  You forced a smile that cracked your cheeks.  “May I?” 

“Of course you may, silly goose,” he walked over to brush his finger along your cheek just before he leaned in, and your nostrils flared at the unwanted touch. “Don’t take too long.  I’ll miss you,” he cooed after he pecked you on the lips.  

Safely in the privacy of the bathroom, you locked the door quietly and gave a long, silent scream into your palms. Tears jerked at your eyes and mouth, but you sucked them back, squaring your shoulders. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, wondering if you had the guts to do what needed to be done.

If you didn’t already have the guts, you needed to find them—fast.  

You’d asked Craig earlier what the plan was, and he’d made it very clear that he was taking you back to your place the next day so that you could pack your things and then return with him to Michigan.  He casually mentioned that he knew where Oliver was spending the night—-just throwing out small details he thought you should know.  In case you fought or refused to leave with him.  

You realized now that he would never stop coming for you, not while he was alive.  

You turned the faucet on so that the noises you were making wouldn’t be so obvious as you went to work unwrapping the soaps and scattering things around the countertop.  You flipped all of the towels on the wrack around and unfolded them, making them as messy as possible.  You got the bottoms of your shoes wet and made a bunch of dirty footprints around the floor tile.  You relieved yourself quickly on the toilet, but then yanked some off the toilet paper down so that it pooled on the floor.

“Hey, pumpkin?” You called out to him over the sound of the toilet flushing.  “Do you have some toothpaste I can borrow?”

He came over to the door and tried the handle.  “There’s some in that black bag by the sink.  Why is this door locked? Please put the cap back on properly when you are finished.”

You waited a few beats before unzipping the small, black bag, quickly eyeing for anything else you could use but, toenails clippers and a toothbrush weren’t great weapons.  Unless you had time to widdle the end of the toothbrush into a shank like they do in prison.  You put the cap of the toothpaste back on, but you left everything on the counter.  

Before you opened the door, you moved the bathmat so it was crooked as it hung over the side of the tub, and you unhooked the shower curtain from two of the rings.

“Ahh,” you said as you exited, looking refreshed.  “Much better.”

He was just walking to put the trash outside in the hall when you took the initiative to hug him.  “I think I made a bit of a mess in there, baby.  Sorry about that.”

When he shut the hallway door again, he came to flick the light on in the bathroom and his shoulders fell, his face pinching tight.  “This is unexceptable,” he mumbled. 

You took note that he forgot to dead bolt the front door in his haste.

You could hear him cursing you under his breath, but also knew that he wouldn’t be unable to function until he tidied up that room and put everything back exactly the way it was.

“Sorry lover,” you yelled, sweetly, turning the sound on the tv up.  It was an episode of Golden Girls this time. “I was going to take a shower but decided not to.”

He had to shut the bathroom door in order to fix the shower curtain, and that was when you hurried to grab the red lipstick out of your purse.  With your heart racing so fast you thought it might explode, you eased back the curtain to the window over the parking lot and wrote on the glass with the lipstick, and then you gently pulled the cream colored curtain back in place so that it didn’t make any sound as it skidded along the rod.  

Craig opened the bathroom door again, but he would be cleaning and organizing for a while—so you forced a fake laugh over something that happened in the show, to make him believe you were just chilling, and then you grabbed the ball point pen you’d noticed earlier and put it in your back pocket.  It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.  You made a mental note to always carry at least a pocket knife or pepper spray with you at all times.  

Wait….

You suddenly remembered the travel-size can of aerosol deodorant you’d put in your clutch for Robin because it wouldn’t fit in hers.  

You took that out, and tucked it under the covers.  

At the last second, Craig stuck his head out to see where you were, and you just happened to be relaxing on the bed with your head cradled in your hand, face lit up with amusement at the screen.

—------

Alone at her place, on the way from the kitchen to the living room with a mug of tea in her hand, Astrid felt a pain shoot through her heart that was so sudden, she dropped the mug and it shattered to pieces on the laminate floor.  She clutched her chest and swallowed back the taste of bile, trying to steady herself, bracing her hand on the stove. 

After a few deep breaths, the flash of agony subsided, and a glance up at the clock told her that Steve was probably still at the wedding.  

Her head swam, and her ears went blind as if her head was submerged in water.  

A gun shot? 

The thought occurred to her, but then it passed. 

Was she experiencing another one of the symptoms of the strange connection she had with Steve ever since they were kids? Or was she having a panic attack of her own? She’d been thinking about the tarot reading she’d done for him; the warnings she’d been moved to share with him.

And then that charming, goofy grin he’d flashed her as he came in for a kiss, making light of her sudden and deep concern.

Driven by some type of inexplicable instinct, she stepped over the broken ceramic, toed into her shoes, and grabbed the keys to her old truck, hoping the engine didn’t fail her this time. 

She also hoped, for some unspecified reason, that she wasn’t too late.  

Too late for what, she wasn’t sure.  

—-------

“First things first,” Robin paced in the stairwell between the 3 and 4th floors while Eddie gnawed at his lip, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest.  “I’ll go down and see if I can find out from the front desk which room Craig is staying in.”

“They’re not just gonna hand that information over to you, Rob,” Eddie bit, trying not to take his frustration out on her.  His own mind was racing, not only because of you, but also at the thought that Charlene had crossed yet another line and was trying to fuck with his friend.  He couldn’t worry about Steve though—he had to trust that he would take the information he’d given him and do what needed to be done for that situation. 

It was then that Eddie’s beeper went off, echoing off the walls.  

He unclipped it from his belt to check it and found that it was from Wayne.

Alerts on his beeper from Wayne that were not during business hours always made his heart stop for a second.  

“Shit, I gotta find a phone,” he mumbled.

Robin started taking the stairs down, motioning for him to follow. “We can sneak around to the payphones in the lobby. This way.”

Turns out, the cops weren’t there for Eddie, they had just been strolling by to check on the event. Robin batted her eyes at the guy at the front desk and asked for a peppermint while Eddie checked out the scene.

Wayne wanted to let him know that Bones and the rest of the Coffin Kings were on their way.  

Eddie leaned against the payphone as Wayne advised him to wait for the rest of the MC before he made a move; it wasn’t safe to go up against a guy like Craig alone.

“Be careful, son,” Wayne told him.

“Take your meds and get some rest,” Eddie returned, which was just another way to say ‘I love you’.  

“You need me there?” Wayne asked.  “You need me to go and check on the boy?”

Eddie looked across the lobby at Robin who was on her way back with a handful of red and white peppermints wrapped in plastic and her tongue out in a goofy expression.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Eddie murmured.  “Check on Oliver just in case. He’s with his friend Paul at Raina’s.”

He also knew that Wayne was much like him, and in a situation like this—he needed something to occupy himself so that he didn’t go mad.

He hung the black phone back onto the receiver and let Robin feed a round candy into his mouth; he started chewing right away instead of sucking on it, crunching down so hard his jaw clicked.  He didn’t want to think what Craig was capable of now that he had you all alone, all to himself.

What if he put his hands on you? What if he….what if….

Eddie growled in frustration and punched the cement wall.  

He hissed in pain, knuckles zinging, and then flapped his hand in the air.  

“I need to go slash that fuckers tires so he can’t go anywhere,” Eddie told Robin, and she nodded; agreeing.

They told Steve to meet them down in the parking lot, and now they’d have more muscle as the rest of the kings rolled in.

But Eddie was losing patience, and—even worse—he worried he was losing you.

—------

Craig was in a bad mood when he was done cleaning the bathroom, and you knew he would be—but it was a price you were willing to pay. 

He turned the TV off and stood in front of him, glaring down his nose at you.

“What have you been up to while I’ve been busy cleaning up your mess?”

You sat up and batted your eyelashes a few times.  “I’ve just been missing you, that’s all.”

His open hand slap came hard and fast across your face and it stung like hell. 

Your eyes were watering as you slowly brought your head back to face him again. 

“Are you done being a little pig?”

You sucked in your bottom lip, nodding. “Yes.”

You winced, because you thought he was going to slap you again, but he grabbed your chin like he’d done before and squeezed, making your mouth pucker. “Say you promise.”

“I promise, baby.  I promise.”

“Good,” he released you.  “Now we can finally enjoy our evening.”

You sank from the bed and got to your knees in front of him, and his hooded eyes followed your every move.

“If I can’t be a pig, can I be a whore?” You purred, moving to unfasten his belt buckle.

“You are such a fucking whore,” he hissed. “And you know how much I hate whores.”

You undid the button and pulled down the zipper. He groaned a little as he watched you reach inside his boxers to pull his cock out. He tilted his head back, feeling your warm breath on the tip as you stroked him and he pushed his pants further.

“Fuck yeah,” he said to the ceiling. “Suck me dry like the whore that you are.”

You spit on the tip and jerked him a few more times, unwilling to touch him with your mouth, as you reached around for the pen in your back pocket and clicked the point out.

“Yes, baby,” you whispered.  “Let me take care of you.”

On the next breath, you jabbed the pen up into his balls as fast and as hard as you could.  

In that first second or two, while he was still in shock, wailing, you stabbed him with it a few more times. 

Jab jab jab

Blood gushed out and he fell to the ground whimpering screams that could not be fully formed inside the crushing pain.

He clutched his wound and rolled over, giving you enough time to scamper away.  He lurched for you as you darted across the bed, thinking you wanted to grab for the deodorant spray, but then you just said fuck it and let out a feral yell as you dropped down with your knee in his face, and then you brought the pen down again....

You were aiming for his eyeball--hopefully his brain---but it stabbed into his cheek instead.

His scream was so piercing, you thought it might break the window

Was he dead or going to die? Probably not, but this was your only chance to get away and you had to take it. You ran as fast as you could, fumbling at the handle of the door as you heard his shrill, gurgled moans behind you.

—------

Steve found his way down the stairwell and stopped to take a breather.  He’d been walking awhile, and his adrenaline was through the roof, so he paused to lean against the railing and light a cigarette.

“Son of a bitch,” he said on the exhale as smoke billowed out, and then he wet his lips. The worst part about finding out what Charlene did, was that Steve had honestly started to like her. He felt like he’d been tricked into dubious consent because he never would’ve let himself have any feelings if he’d known even half of the truth.  He put two fingers to his throat to check his pulse, certain that he was in the middle of a panic attack.  The nicotine did its job to calm him down, it also got him to slow down and breathe, if only to support his habit.

His attention perked up again when he heard a scream and a thump coming from the floor above, and then more screaming, as if some dude was being murdered.

—-----

On the highway, Astrid struggled to catch her breath, and the constriction in her chest made her swerve into the gravel and fishtail before she righted the truck again while the duet Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash played through static on the radio.  

She could see the lights of the hotel up ahead through the trees.

—-----

Eddie found Craig’s SUV in the parking lot and stabbed its tires with his utility knife, thinking he should have one of the guys bring the tow truck around and impound the fucker. Robin tried to open the doors and cupped her hands around her eyes to see what was inside.

Behind them, a car was pulling in off the highway; the headlights behind them cast their shadows over the pavement.

they heard the brakes squeal to a halt and a woman yelped.

Eddie’s attention went to the side of the building and he caught sight of something scrawled in red on one of the windows.  

—-----

You turned a corner at the end of the hall and ran like the devil was on your heels, passed several vending machines and a pool, until you broke through into a dark stairwell and made your way down on foot.  

You were afraid to look back.

The fear of hearing him enter the stairwell behind you had you in such a hurry that you tripped twice and caught yourself.  You were barefoot, and you were pretty sure you’d stepped on a thumbtack or some glass because the pad of your left foot stung like hell, but it did not slow you down.  

You wiped something wet out of your eye with your arm, assuming it was blood, and regretted that you didn't stay to make sure you killed him like you knew you should have.

In that moment, as you stumbled down the stairs afraid for your life, you felt like going to prison for such a thing would've been worth it.

You finally shot out into the night air and took a deep breath.

You came out around the backside of the hotel, where there wasn’t much illumination but for three lights up high on a ledge.  You only paused for a second, but kept going, passing dumpsters and an employee entrance before you caught sight of the highway and headlights making their way onto the property.  

—-------

Charlene darted from the hotel and out into the street, desperate to find Steve to explain, to let him know she regretted all of it, without looking where she was going. Before one of the valets could stop her, she almost got hit by an old truck cruising in at twice the speed it should have.

Only a hair away from the grille, she turned to throw the driver a dirty look.

Astrid was startled as well, but with her foot on the brake, and her eyes locked on Charene, she revved the engine.

—-------

When Craig stumbled into the elevator with a dark stain seeping through the crotch of his denim and a punctured face oozing blood, everyone in the compartment cleared out, muffling their screams as they went.

He heaved and grunted and thumbed the button for the lobby as he scowled down the hall at nothing while the doors slid shut.  

He had two loaded guns shoved in the waistband of his jeans and he intended to use them.  

—-----

Eddie stepped closer to read what it said on the window with a tilt of his head. It read: “Eddie I love u” and it was written backwards so that it could be legible from out where he was, not inside the room.

“Baby,” he whispered with a catch in his throat.

Forgetting about everything else he was doing, and the chaos that was going on, he took note of which floor that was and started to book it back inside, but then that was when you came into sight, limping around the shadowy corner.

You had blood spatter on your face, and your dress was ripped.  It also looked like you hurt your foot somehow and your face broke into a sob the moment you saw him.

—------

Astrid parked her truck right where it was, with the headlights still on as she got out to find out where the boys were. She grabbed a shovel out of the bed in case she needed to use it as a weapon.

She was about to say something to Charlene when they heard the gunshot and both women ducked down, shoulders pressed together behind the side of the truck.

—-----

Craig exited the building on a rampage—not caring who saw him or what it looked like as he shot a bullet into the air.

He stepped out between you and Eddie, and you called out to him.

“I’m right here, Craig,” you said, stepping further into the light from the shadows.  “Please just, leave them be.  I’ll go with you wherever.”

Craig turned to give you a sneer of a grin, his white teeth now pink from all of the blood in his mouth.

“Oh, honey, it’s too late for that.”

You locked eyes with Eddie across the way and he started towards you, ready to breech the gap, regardless of the consequences as Craig turned the gun on him.

Eddie kept his pace, getting closer.  “You better be ready to use that, man, before I get my hands on you.”

With Craigs finger hot on the trigger, there was a sudden yell from somewhere in the bushes as Steve flew out of nowhere and tackled Craig to the ground. Eddie took that split second to get over to you, to hold your face and make sure you were okay.

The gun went off again, but the two were a tangled mess on the ground.  Steve beat Craig’s skull into the pavement a few times, and jammed his thumb into the once good eye, but Craig clocked him with the butt of the gun and it stunned him for a second.

It all happened so fast.

Steve was able to crack Craig’s hand against the ground and he lost his grip on the gun, and it skidded away, out of reach.

There were motorcycles thundering near in the distance as Craig yanked the other gun from his waistband and shuffled back to take aim.

Eddie spread his arms out and moved in front of you to act as a shield..

And then there was a gunshot from somewhere else, but the bullet only skimmed Craig’s shoulder. He yowled, but he did not faulter.

Charlene tried to aim at his skull for a second one with trembling hands, but Craig turned the gun on her and Astrid before she could, and he got a shot it, just before Steve reared up to take him to the ground again. The struggle turned them over several times, but then in a blink, Steve was on his back again, but he was able to wrestle the other weapon from Craig.

Craig reared up to bring his fist down into Steve’s face just as Astrid was about to bring the business end of the shovel down on his head---

but then there was a shotgun blast from out of the dark.

Blast…click…Blast…click…Blast

You ran up behind Eddie and put your arms around him.

Craig’s body spasmed in the air where he knelt above Steve as the power of the shots knocked him back.

There were smoking holes blown through his head and his chest.

With one final, open-mouthed pause against the beam of the headlights, and a choked gurgle, Craig’s dead body slumped to the ground.  

Panting, Steve unsheathed his knife and got to his knees; ready for more just in case.

Everyone’s eyes followed the line of fire to the source.

And there was Wayne.

He stepped out of the shadows in his Coffin King's denim kutte with “Uncle” on the front pocket, lowering the double barrel.  He tipped his chin to both of the boys and squared his shoulders.   

A crowd had gathered from inside, including the bride, and the woman who had just caught the bouquet, and Melanie. Even Erika was there as someone’s date. They whispered to each other as Craig’s blood pooled into a little river on the uneven pavement and made its way to the gutter.  

From inside Astrid’s truck, the chorus to the song I’m on Fire by Bruce Springsteen was eventually drowned out by the fierce rumble of motorcycles as the entire MC entered the parking lot and flanked the scene.  

Part 16

----

whoa, who knew this would be such a family affair when this fic first started? This world has come to mean so much to me, and I'm so grateful to those of you still riding along.

As always, your comments mean the world, and, if you enjoyed it---reblog it---because it's the only way this fic will ever be seen by anyone but us 🧡

----

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[alpydk]

I know you've been back and forth about Gale smut, but can I maybe request angsty smut?

Gale 100% sure he's gonna use the orb at the endgame, but fooling Tav into thinking he had been convinced. The night before the last battle, Tav thinking it might be their last night but Gale *knowing* it is.

Hello anon. Thank you for this prompt. I'll admit, it's been a challenge and I'll admit this is more like 90% angst and 10% maybe smut... You'll see what I mean.

Lose you

Word Count - 1221 words - C/W Angst, death, last night.

‘Cause I’m gonna lose ya Yes, I’m gonna lose ya If I’m gonna lose ya I’ll lose you now for good

Gale loved Tav more than he ever thought was possible. He loved how she looked at the world, eyes bright and optimistic, how she saw the good in everyone she met. Everyone could be redeemed of the mistakes they had made at some point in their lives, whether it be Kethric cursed for giving everything for another, Astarion’s tactful advances learnt from a life of pain, whether it was Gale himself and the greatest of all folles.

But what are forgiveness and redemption with no sacrifice? Kethric had ended up dead, Astarion still a spawn living off woodland animals. Gale had sacrificed nothing, at least nothing he could see. A year in solitude was but the consequence of my actions, not a sacrifice. The crown was a distant pipedream that even if he reforged, he could not wield. Unworthy of wielding. No, fate had dictated long ago what his sacrifice would be, and even with Tav’s compelling words and Elminster’s belief that destiny could be manipulated, Gale did not see it for himself. He knew what he had to do. He’d known since that very first day with the book.

“You think too much.”

Tav was right. In recent weeks he had been thinking too much: of life, death, of Gods and planes, and the pain. Will I be given a place at Mystra’s side, or will I walk the Fugue Plane without relief until I'm met with Kelemvor’s judgement? When the end comes, will it be but an instant of burning nerves as I’ve experienced in recent months, a candle snuffed out without hesitation? Or will it be the dull ache of the orb’s pressure building within my ribs, the seconds stretching for eternity as each molecule of my existence is torn apart piece by piece? Gale chuckled at her words; thoughts abandoned. “Maybe, but to think too much, my love, should never be a cause for concern.”

Sitting beside him, she took his hand in her soft palm. She had seen his scrawled letters, words of farewell, of a future he wouldn’t be a part of, and it pained her to think he could even consider leaving them, leaving her. “It is when I know what your mind often travels to.”

 “And what might my mind be travelling to right now?”

To look upon your eyes, your hair, your skin. To see each curve of your body under the dawn’s light. To touch you. To hear your breathing as you sleep. To make you laugh. To make you cry. To love you and no other. To lose you.

She smirked at his words, the playfulness in his tone not going unmissed. Maybe the letters had been written during darker moments, ones before their night at Moonrise. He’d told her he was grateful for meeting her, told her he loved her. He’d invited her to Waterdeep to meet his family. The future was there and maybe it was her who was overthinking things. “I could think of one or two things.” Tav slipped her hand from his, bringing it to the trailing weave of the orb upon his chest. For so many nights she had placed heated kisses along the darkened lines, felt the rise and fall of his chest with each heightened emotion, made him forget his goddess. And for a thousand more nights to follow, Tav would do the same.  

“Maybe a demonstration is in order, hm?” Gale leant back, watching the way her hair tumbled down above him as she positioned herself. He felt the way her fingertips traced along his chest, his robe removed and abandoned. The tender touch of her lips upon his, the scent of wine on her breath. How he longed to change fate. To hold you close on stormy nights. To see you smile as you taste my cooking. To dance with you. To hear you read poetry in the dim light of my study. To feel your head on my shoulder as we watch the sunset. To love you. To lose you.

Her dress was gone, the candlelight letting shadows dance upon her flesh. She looked at him in the same way she saw the world. He could be forgiven, redeemed. In her eyes, he already was, and she wanted to show him that.

Wishing he could tell her the truth; he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The scent of poppies hung in her hair, and he tried to memorise it. He tried to remember each minute detail of her form: the shade of her hair under the light, the flush of her cheeks as she gave into the tides consuming her, the quiet moan as he stroked her body with the soft pad of his thumb. If only they could stay in that one moment, an eternity with Tav as his goddess, the stars their followers, each whisper from his lips a new prayer devoted to her. If only...

“Tav... If something untoward, shall we say, were to happen to me-”

She gazed down at him, the slow rhythmic movements of her hips coming to a hesitant halt upon hearing his words. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I merely need assurance,” Gale replied, an unwilling sliver of emotion escaping him. Please tell me you will find someone else. You will fall in love and smile at them as you smile at me. Tell me you will not need me.  

“You’re not going anywhere.” Tav was so sure of her words. They would fight the Netherbrain and all of them would survive. They would not sacrifice anyone. They were not pieces on a lanceboard to be thrown away at the whims of the gods. They, he was more than that.

“How can you be so sure?”

He felt the slow roll of her hips, the warmth of her body as she grew closer to him. Wrapping his arms around her, Gale held her tightly. He would not let go of her, would not let go of this moment, of their last night together. He would remember every gasp, every whine, every bead of sweat that merged with the salted tears that pricked at his eyes. When the time comes, I want the last thing I see to be you. To see you as you are now. To feel you as you are now. To not lose you.

 “Because I love you,” she moaned softly, her eyes closing with the building heat between them. She knew there was always a chance something could go wrong, but those doubts had no place in their world right now. There was only the love she could show him, the meaning in living.

“I love you too.”

What else could he say that night before his sacrifice was made? Their last night could not be one of pain and sadness. It had to be spent in the way it was, with heated kisses and stars of their own creation. It had to be the last memory they shared, one that would smother out the darkness to follow, one that he could picture as the conjured dagger pierced his heart. To hear your voice. To see you smile. To love you. To lose you.

[kachowden]

I am already in love with the pink lemonade cowboy 🥰😍

Vampire!Cowboy! Yandere x GN! Reader

——————-(<3)—————

A/n: I do not condone yandere behavior, this is purely fictional. This will be a short series. If you want to see what our yandere looks like you can see him here <3 also this technically isn’t a slow burn but the juicy stuff will show up in part 2

Part 1

——————————————————-

The rain thudded dully against the roof of your old rusty car. Your windshield wipers squeaked across your windows, flinging off thin sheets of water that blurred the dark road in front of you. Puddles reflected in your single headlight.

You’re grandfather was a cruel man.

As sweet as honey, you loved your grandfather dearly. He was always especially generous on the holidays.

But he was cruel. Because while he was on his “retirement vacation”, he left his massive farm in your care.

You! The grandchild who hadn’t done a lick of farm work in their entire life! Hell the closest thing to a farm you’d ever been to was a petting zoo when you were- what 6??

How were you expected to do anything remotely useful! In fact you were 90% sure that these crops and animals would be dead and gone within a week under your care.

But ohoho! Lucky you! You grandfather has a helper on the farm! A complete Fucking stranger who you’d never met before was going to be sharing a house with you for the next 6 weeks! Thank you grandpa! Love you SOO much!

You did love him. But you were irritated and you felt like you had a right to be so! He dropped this bombshell on you, not even asking if you had any plans!

Which you didn’t but that wasn’t the point!

Plans could’ve popped up at any moment!

With a very stressed sigh you pulled your beaten up car into the drive way of the rustic red farm house. Your engine wheezed with exhaust as your wheels rolled to a bumpy stop on the wet pavement. It took about 5 hours to drive to where your grandpa lived. Which meant you couldn’t just stay at your house and visit everyday to water the animals and feed the crops or whatever.

You physically had to stay here.

I mean it was a paid vacation but come on! You’d rather be working at the café than on a farm! At least you knew what you were doing there!

You let your head fall softly against the steering wheel, sighing again at your circumstances.

“Whatever. No use in complaining now.”

“Probably not kid.”

“Holy Sh-!”

The violent sound of your car horn scattered birds and animals for miles. Though there were few to begin with in this dreary weather. The stranger who had peered through your open window winced, covering his ears with a snarl.

“Oh shit- i am so sorry you just- actually- no what the fuck you scared the shit out of me!”

Typically you weren’t one to point fingers but you were in a particularly bad mood today so you felt that it was justified. Plus he did scare you!

The strangers lips twisted into a grimace, and you felt your body sending various warning signals when his turquoise irises narrowed down on your figure. Jeez this dude had a judgmental stare. You prayed this guy wasn’t your grandfathers “help”.

The mystery man clicked his tongue. “You the old mans grandkid?”

Fuck

You glared deeply at the totally not gorgeous cowboy, “..and I suppose you’re his “helper”?”

The stranger didn’t seem to take very kindly to your attitude, what with the way he leaned his head a little further into your car window to stare you down.

You had half the nerve to try and close it on him but the dumb thing was a window crank and you wouldn’t have gotten it up in time anyway.

“The names Micah. Your pops calls me Mickey. It’s either Micah or Mic to you, kid.”

Asshole!

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age Mickey.”

He didn’t respond to that, merely pulling himself out of the car with a deep exhale.

He backed up slightly from the vehicle, you assumed to wait for you to get out, but when he lifted his boot up you got a little more worried

“Hey what’re you-“

With a sharp kick, Mickey smashed his boot into the lower side of your car door causing it to shoot open like a spring lock. Aka causing you to flop out onto your ass with a loud cuss.

Crying out you scowled deeply at the cowboy who didn’t even bother to send you a snarky look in return.

You could feel the water drizzling through your hair and clothes.

Looking painfully disinterested, the redhead(?) began walking away from your slowly soaking form. Leaving you to bring in your luggage. In the rain.

“I thought cowboys were supposed to be friendly or something..” you growled somewhat pitifully into the empty cold rain.

Glancing down at your wet knees you sighed, beginning to pick yourself off the ground, in hopes to spare a little of your own dignity.

Though it was for not when you felt your non grippy shoes slide against a stray patch of mud.

You didn’t have time to do much more than gasp when you felt yourself fall forward, only to land into a surprisingly secure and- kinda cold, set of arms.

Your breathed deeply for a moment, pulling back to stare at Mickey, who’s own eyes peered down at you from the brim of his now spotted hat.

You didn’t want to acknowledge the size of his forearms, or how you could feel practically everything under that flimsy wife beater he wore despite the weather.

You swore you heard him mumble something along the lines of “city folk”, but you became too distracted when noticing the purple spotted umbrella that now shade the two of you from the rain.

“Oh..”

You think you finally saw a small smile on the cowboys lips.

“Still thinkin I ain’t nice?”

You flushed, mostly in embarrassment at the fact that he heard you.

“Ah dip, you heard that?”

His laugh was fucking hot dude.

“You’d be surprised on how much I can hear, Kid.”

“Creepy but okay.”

Mickey laughed again though a bit shorter this time before propping you back up. You swore you heard a deep inhale, but you weren’t sure due to the sound of rain pelting the umbrella and car.

“Why don’t you head inside. I’ll grab your luggage.”

“Oh no, I can take care of it-“

The man glared at you, though you felt it was considerably less hostile than it had been originally.

“Just get in or else the foods gon’ get cold.”

Food?

“Say less!”

You had half a mind to be embarrassed when Mickey laughed at the sight of you practically skipping up to the porch and through the rustic door.

—————————————-

There was a loud and aggressive knocking at your door.

You decided being cruel was a country thing.

Because while Mickey had been sweet enough to make you dinner last night and breakfast this morning, he also rudely woke you up at the ass crack of dawn and kicked you out into the field to help with the chores.

Now mind you, typically you were a morning person! A go-getter of sorts! But the sun wasn’t even awake yet! So why were you out here picking peas, tomatoes, squash, peppers and so on, when you could be sleeping peacefully, cozied up in the slightly itchy and heavy wool sheets of your guest bed! Something about “the morning dew” apparently.

You weren’t even sure how Mic got in your room after you didn’t respond, seeing as you were once again, 90% sure you locked the door. Then again, the food he made practically sent you into a coma once you were done.

You weren’t sure if it was coincidence or not, but Micah had made all your favorite foods that evening. You wanted to assume your pa had told him, but you didn’t believe for a second that, that rude cowboy would go out of his way to make your favorite foods for you.

Especially considering he didn’t eat any of it.

All he had was this weird cup of, what you could only assume was wine or cranberry juice and a few pieces of a steak he popped in the oven.

This guy was weird.

“Hey kid! You done pickin or are your city hands to sensitive to finish the job?”

Speak of the bastard and he will come! Unfuckenfortunately

Your scowl was probably noticeable from a mile away, and especially from where the tall country man stood, given his smug grin as he walked over to examine your work.

He whistled mockingly, freaky blue-green eyes scanning your baskets.

“Not bad, for city folk anyway. But here.-“ crouching down in front of you the, ginger(?) reached his rough hands out and softly pulled the baskets from your arms.

“You wanna keep your herbs separated from each other. Some of them are harder to tell from others and you don’t wanna go mixin them up.”

You watched quietly, mostly in your own mental brooding, as he carefully separated the different herbs and spices from each other. His hands were large, but you noticed how precise he seemed to be. He had to have been working here quite sometime, cuz you couldn’t tell much of a difference between half of the things he was organizing.

“There we go.” His voice was soft this morning. Blending in with the sound of the faint winds, and the after rain dripping from the gutters and into the soil. It was still too early for the birds to be chirping. The sun still had yet to rise but the stars gave just enough light to see the gentle gaze the farm boy had set on you.

This moment of silence was odd for you. Especially given the two of you bickering since your arrival yesterday. This guy before you made no sense. Like a switch, he was harsh and snappy, and then gentle and calm. Caring almost. At times he almost acted like he’d known you for years. Though that seemed to mostly happen when he was doing something around the farm.

Caught up in your own thoughts, you missed the way Mickeys eyes were burning into you. They moved languidly over your figure, taking in your attire, dressed more warmly for the morning chill. Nearly every part of you was covered.

Except your neck. You had forgotten to pack a scarf apparently.

The pale man’s jaw clenched tightly, his shoulders tensing before he scowled and stood up, interrupting the once peaceful atmosphere.

“Get up. We still have work to do.”

His tone was cold and biting like the morning. Your breath came out in foggy puffs. But his didn’t. At least you couldn’t see it from where you were.

You watched with furrowed brows knit confusion as the cowboys boots carried him into the farmhouse, right as the first rays of the sun stretched over the country side and bled into the fields.

What was his deal?

For the rest of the day, Mickey seemed to be adamant about being as big of a thorn in your side as possible. Barking at you to hurry up. Scowling at you when you slipped or did something even slightly wrong.

Perfectionist asshole.

He also seemed to be avoiding looking at you.

At least directly. Every time you turned to yell at him, or glare, his back was always turned or his head was to the side, seeming adamant on not meeting your eyes.

Moody much?

The only time he did look at you was when he thought you weren’t looking. ‘Specially when you were moving heavy objects and you had to take off your jacket so you wouldn’t drown in your own sweat.

To some extent you prided your self on your work. You weren’t lazy by any means, and actually considered yourself a fairly hard worker, if the muscles of your forearms were any indication. You weren’t ripped. But it was something right?

You assumed that Mic agreed, though granted he could’ve just been comparing yours to his own massive forearms. But with the way his eyes were trailing all over you and zoning in on your barren arms and shoulders, You were almost flattered!

Almost. If the same guy who was checking you out wasn’t also being bloody ruthless with the chores. You got a few scrapes and bruises by that time noon, and you practically fell into the rickety kitchen dining chairs.

“Holy fucking shit I’ve never moved that much in my entire life..” a pain groaned poured from your lips as your aching muscles strained with your body heaving itself upwards.

Mickey let out a soft scoff at the sound, though still considerably gentler than he had been all morning, as he placed a very aesthetic sand-which In front of you.

Your stomach growled particularly loud at the sight, and with new found energy you picked up the scrumptious food with a grateful thanks and began eating.

Mickey, once again, without a lunch of his own opted to watch you openly instead. His belt buckle jeans pressed into the kitchen counter top, muscular arms propping himself up against it.

He watched quietly, and you would’ve been freaked out if you weren’t so damn tired.

“There’s still more to do. We haven’t gotten to the animals yet. And the roof on the barn needs leak repairs.”

You choked.

Hacking violently you smacked your chest before unlodging the piece of fresh bread from your throat.

Gulping water quickly you exhaled and turned to look at the cowboy in what you hoped was a glare, but was more accurately a very pathetic frown.

“I-!” You opened your mouth to argue before closing it softly with a tired sigh.

You’d complained enough today.

Mickey had been doing this kind of work for who knows how long, and he was going out of his way to accommodate your pace, though not by much, and was even making you food. It felt rude to comparing at this point.

You just hoped that if you died from exhaustion Mickey wouldn’t use your body as fertilizer.

So with a resigned groan you sat up after finishing your delicious sandwich. “..Yeah, okay.” You mumbled, getting ready to move to the trash can and toss out the crumbs and paper, but a large pale hand forced you back into your seat, without much pressure given how tired your body already was.

You gazed at Mickey curiously.

The tall cowboy looked down at you firmly, his expression odd as he scanned your bruises and sweaty face. Sighing completely inaudibly before reaching into his back pocket and placing a tube of some kind of muscle cream and a pack of wraps.

“Go upstairs and run yourself a warm bath. You stink and the water will help relax your muscles so they wont hurt as much tomorrow. You can spend the rest of the day doing whatever you need to do, but I expect you down here and out at the gate by 5 to bring in the cattle. Got it?”

You were stunned. The smile that worked its way on your face seemed to embarrass the farmer slightly as he turned away from you with folded arms and a grumpy frown.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m only letting you off because at this point you’ll slow me down more than anything. I don’t need a clumsy city kid messing up my work.”

You chose to ignore the bastards insults in favor of gently placing your arm on his lower bicep.

“Thanks Mic.”

You missed the deep inhale and weird glow of the cowboys eyes that followed you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

“…..”

It was good to see you hadn’t changed much.

[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter three

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1k

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Y/N woke up and let out a long groan. Her head was pounding and blurred visions from the night before slowly entered her brain. Then suddenly she realized she was parched. Water. She needed water. She crawled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen. Her water bottle was about halfway full when her roommate, Carol, entered the room, back from a morning run.

“Well you look like shit,” she said.

“Feel like shit,” Y/N added.

“What exactly did you get up to last night?” Carol stretched in the living room as Y/N chugged down her water.

“Went out with some asshole. It was a mistake.”

“Oh come on, he couldn’t have been that bad. He got you home.”

“He got me drunk, I made a fool of myself, and then he rejected me.”

“Oh you left out the part about maybe having a concussion.”

“Ugh…don’t remind me about that.” She drank more water and then the realization hit her “Wait, how…?”

Carol smirked, “The ‘asshole’ left this under my door,” she held up a small handwritten note, “Wanted me to keep an eye on you and make sure you were okay.”

Y/N had no response to that. She enjoyed her disdain for Bucky. She didn’t need to go around catching feelings just because he did something sweet. Y/N grumbled and retreated to her room as Carol watched her with a knowing look.

Bucky woke up the next morning and his first thought was about Y/N. He hated to admit it, but he was worried about her. And he knew he had his work cut out for him since he had bruised her ego the night before.

So he put himself together and headed to her apartment. He stopped to pick up a couple coffees, hoping to bribe her into liking him again.

He softly knocked in rhythm on her door and heard shuffling from the other side. He could almost sense her looking through the peephole eyeing him up.

“Go away,” she said firmly.

“I brought coffee,” he retorted.

“Oh, well in that case, leave the coffee and go away.”

“Come on Y/N…”

“I made myself perfectly clear. Leave.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why do you care?”

He sighed and let out a chuckle, “Because I like you!”

There was a long pause before she said, “Well, I don’t like you.”

“That’s the best you could come up with? Damn, you must be really hung over.”

“I’m walking away from the door now,” she said.

He chuckled at her stubbornness, but respected her commitment. He scrawled a quick note on the coffee cup that read Call me once you’re feeling better with his phone number.

He sauntered off, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy. He started considering his next few moves.

He wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t heard from her in a few days. In fact, he anticipated that. So he moved on to phase two.

He approached her front door and knocked, this time hiding from view of the peephole. He heard the lock switching and knew he was in. As soon as the door was open he barged in, taking Y/N by surprise.

Before she could say anything he started unloading the stocked grocery bag. 

“I have everything you could possibly need. Gatorade, ginger ale, homemade chicken noodle soup, saltines, lemon ginger tea…” He pulled out each of the items as they were announced and placed them on her kitchen counter.

“Bucky…what the fuck?”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows encouraging her to continue.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Well you never called me. So you must still be very sick and I thought ‘Hm, if I were really sick, I’d want someone to come over and take care of me.’ So here I am with all the best remedies.”

She was so close to smiling but she kept her composure and responded. “I’m not sick you asshole. I just didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Now that cannot possibly be true. We had such a lovely time together on our date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart. Just remember I was the perfect gentleman. I picked you up, I walked you home, and I didn’t take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.” He hoped the last part of his statement would help her understand why he declined her advances that night.

“What a shame, I don’t remember any of it.”

“I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it then. Oh, did I mention that you agreed to go out with me again?”

“Liar,” she joked.

“Can’t blame me for trying.”

She shook her head, “You can leave now.”

“If you insist,” he said. He didn’t move, hoping she would reconsider.

“I do,” she opened the front door wide and signaled for him to make his way through it.

“I have to say Y/N, you are really good at this whole hard to get thing.” He made his way through the door and turned to face her, shooting her his winning smile.

“Bye,” she said as she shut the door in his face.

“I’ll see you later!” he shouted through the door.

Bucky continued to pursue Y/N for the days that followed. He tried out a few different tactics but most of them involved buying her coffee or walking her to class. Her defenses came down a bit, but she still declined any date suggestions Bucky threw out there.

“What’s your endgame here?” she asked him at one point.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Because I have never met a girl as interesting as you. And I want to spend time with you and get to know you better.”

She rolled her eyes, “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hate to break it to you but sweet talk doesn’t work on me.”

That was the moment he realized he needed to step things up so he began planning. His friends were constantly telling him to give up, that the dare wasn’t worth all this effort. But it wasn’t about that anymore. Bucky had never struggled when it came to women. Usually his tough exterior and ocean blue eyes were enough to do the trick. Y/N was so different from any other girl and the challenge was a great motivator. He wanted to know what made her tick.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

For your newest make me write. Im in a huge complete supernatural/fantasy like AU mood here recently so my requests are going to be towards that this week. Also both of them are supposed to be 15 emojis apiece so can we pretend they are if they are not? (Kinda sorry about all the zombies…but feel free to sub everything to vampires or another WIP if you want)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(Im so ready for the Maddie/Buck reunion and ensuing shenanigans. I think by the time you get to to this that the new chapter *may* be out that goes over that. But im also enjoying other aspects of the story as well. I very rarely read bathena start fics so their relationship developing is exciting for me to see as well).

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 🩸(Spoilery for those not caught up BUT OMG BUCK WHAT DID YOU DO?!?! I was not ready for that!)

Woohoo 90 total sentences for monster fics!

45 for 🧟 (THANK YOU!!!):

---

 “Just… Be careful.”

Chim thinks he probably should listen to her. But he also knows he likely won’t. 

▪️▪️▪️

If anything, Chim gets worse. And that might be problematic if his feelings were one-sided, but after dinner, it becomes more or less obvious that they are not.

They do dishes together. A chore Chim usually finds tiresome, but now is somehow fun. Christopher and Denny have already begged Maddie, Hen, and Karen to have a sleepover together. Something Chim finds somewhat redundant, seeing as every day forever is a sleepover here. But Chris wants to sleep in Denny’s room. 

“Please,” Karen had insisted when Maddie had asked if they were sure it was okay. “He finally gets to have friends his own age. Chris can have as many sleepovers as he wants.”

So Maddie is off kid duty tonight. 

“Other than movie night,” she asks as they’re finishing up with dishes. “What is there to do around here in the evenings?”

“You got something against movie night?” Chim teases.

“No!” Maddie insists. “Just exploring my options.”

“Well, there are games,” Chim says. But then he has another thought. “Or the roof.”

“The roof?” Maddie asks. 

“Yeah. We’ve got chairs up there. We can steal your brother’s stereo. It’s great for looking at the stars. Now that the light pollution is gone.” 

Chim wonders if this is too weird. Too forward. Too intimate. Too much like a date, if the world was normal enough to afford dates. Actually, scratch that. He knows Hen has set up a date for Karen up there, under the stars. On their wedding anniversary. God, what is he doing?

“That sounds really nice,” Maddie says. “Would you… Would you want to do that with me?”

God, obviously.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

---

45 for 🩸 (Buck's gonna Buck!)

---

“Neither am I,” Eddie says. “Okay?”

Buck nods, still a little weepy. 

“Okay.”

💧💧💧

As tired as he is, Buck can’t really sleep for very long periods. A wound to his front and a wound to his back means nothing is comfortable. Eddie helps set him up on an assortment of pillows to prop him in just the right position, but it’s still a more or less futile effort. He manages to get a little bit of rest when his pain medication sets in, but otherwise, he’s awake and uncomfortable. 

Brought down to reality by his conversation, Buck really gets a chance to think through what he’d nearly done. Not the killing part - which he’d been more focused on before - but the dying part. And the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks about just how right Eddie was. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want their life together to be over just as it finally started.

He really let that compulsive need to fix everything almost get him killed. Maddie was right. He needs to deal with this properly. This pit of dread that lives in his chest that says he is going to lose everything horribly. That says life will never be safe again. He needs to address that head on, and not by trying to be one step ahead of every possible danger. He needs to go back to therapy. He will, he decides. The minute he’s physically up to it.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again, later that night, when everyone is sleeping and Buck is laying awake beside Eddie. He knows he’s probably going to be saying it for a long time. 

Eddie blinks awake. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck repeats. 

“For waking me up?” 

“No, for everything.”

Eddie sighs. “I forgive you. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“But I’m still sorry.” 

“Buck,” Eddie complains. “Don’t do this. This doesn’t help. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m going to go to therapy,” Buck says. 

“That’s a good idea,” Eddie says. “We could both use therapy. Do you think there are vampire therapists?”

“If there’s not, there should be,” Buck replies. “They’d have the corner on the market right now.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says. “And surely some shrink out there got bit?”

[flowerbloom-arts]

Hey, sorry if I'm repetitive but what do you think happened to the humans in the Moomin universe.

Absolutely do not worry about asking too many questions, I love answering them!!!

Humans in Moominland is a very interesting subject... In that they're a LOT less of a presence than even I thought they were.

Alot of people (including me) thought that when, in Moomins and the Great Flood, Moominmamma was talking about Moomins living behind huge stoves before the invention of central heating she was talking about humans' stoves.

But no.

She never uses the word human, she says people.

(...) In those days they lived together with the house-trolls in people’s houses, mostly behind their tall stoves. “Some of us still live there now, I’m sure,” said Moominmamma. “But only where people still have stoves, I mean. We’re not happy with central heating.”

“Did the people know we were there?” asked Moomintroll.

(...)

“[A Hattifattener is] a kind of little troll-creature,” explained Moominmamma. “They’re mostly invisible. Sometimes they can be found under people’s floors, and you can hear them pattering about in there when it’s quiet in the evenings. (...)

And it's not like "people" was used as a specific term in Moomins and the Great Flood, either, because we have instances like these;

“Thank you so awfully much,” said Moominmamma. “You must have invited quite a lot of people up here for sea-pudding, I should think.”

“Oh yes,” said the boy. “People from every corner of the world. Snufkins, Sea-ghosts, Little Creeps and Big Folk, Snorks and Hemulens. And the odd angler fish, too.”

(...)

The armchair bobbed slowly along towards a hill where a lot of people were running about, pulling their belongings out of the water.

(...)

“Well, well,” said the marabou stork, who was beginning to feel touched. “I think I had better put you down on dry land and try to rescue a few more before the sun goes down. It’s very pleasant, rescuing people.” And then he took them back to the shore while they all talked at the same time about all the dreadful things they had been through. All along the shore people had lit fires at which they were warming themselves and cooking food, for most had lost their homes.

So it could be that Moominmamma was just talking about living behind regular creatures' oversized stoves, like how the Moomin ancestor did in Moominland Midwinter, which is honestly a very silly image. And it's not like it'd be impossible - the Hemulen and the Marabou stork in Great Flood are absolutely massive compared to our main characters.

Marabou storks tend to be about 5 feet tall so relatively speaking, if we assume this stork is still the same size as he would be irl, then our main characters would be relatively mouse-sized.

However. Tove didn't seem to have committed to this concept, and more or less just retconned it out of canon. Since the cats in Moomins and the Great Flood are seemingly regular-sized relative to the Hemulen's chair;

But in the 1968 revision of Comet in Moominland including future adaptations of the story, Sniff's cat is regular-sized, and so are the cats that appear in the Moomin comic strip, like the one in Moominmamma's Maid.

(sorry for using a screenshot from the 90s movie adaptation, I couldn't find a book illustration since I don't have a PDF of the revised book, much less an illustration of Sniff and his cat next to eachother, if that exists. If anyone has a way to read the revision in English pleeease give it to me)

But that's just Moomins and the Great Flood, which practically functions as a "pilot episode" for the whole franchise; it set up the concepts but is not representative of the rest of the franchise and has alot of things that get retconned but not entirely removed for the rest of the series, it wasn't even translated into/published in English until 2012. What about the rest of the franchise?

Well, the only instance of the word "human" being used in the books is in Moominpappa at Sea, while Moominpappa talked about how stone-faced the Fisherman/Lighthouse Keeper has been for the whole book;

‘There’s something wrong with you that I can’t make out,’ Moominpappa said to himself. ‘You’re not a human being at all. You’re more like a plant or a shadow, just as if you’d never been born.’

Which implies either of two things; the LHK is human or human-adjacent, or human is a normal adjective in the world of Moomin aswell.

And the only instance of the word "human" in the comic strip (there could be another instance I'm forgetting, however I'm not talking about Lars' comics because I am kind of prioritizing Tove's intentions here) is in a conversation between Snorkmaiden and Mymble Jr in Moomin Winter Follies;

Which... Kind of implies Mr. Brisk is human, I think? It's hard to imagine but there it is, the one instance of the word human in the comics.

And that's like... The only thing we really have within the original medium of Moomin.

But Tove had also worked on other things first-hand, and one of them had actual human characters.

That being Mumintrollet (1969, nice), a live-action show primarily known for the body horror of the Moomins removing their heads to reveal human heads inside. But with that obviously inapplicable facet of the show aside, we have this guy, the main antagonist, the King;

This guy is an explicitly canon human (can't be 100% sure since the show hasn't been transcribed or translated from its original swedish but I'm close to sure), and he's about the same size as the Moomins (probably because of the nature of the show, kinda like the whole head thing and Little My's normal human size in the show, but ehhh)

And that's, like, it for the canonicity of humans in Moomin, everything else is questionable or vague or a bit bewildering.

Like, is King Jones from Moominpappa's Memoirs a human? Why is he so big? What's going on here???

But that's all up to speculation, even the examples of the instances of the word human I've shown doesn't totally prove the existence of humans as we know them in this world. Alot of the characters look human but aren't, and others aren't stated to be not human, there are some oversized things like Muddler's tin that don't get explained, but who knows, really.

In short, I don't think anything has exactly happened to humans. They're either living among Moominland's society like fellow creatures (heck, maybe even some of the characters we know are human) or they're like... Rare or extinct or didn't even truly exist in the first place.

It's one big "who knows?".

[legobiwan]

Mario and Luigi for the drabble, “When I’m with you, I’m home.”

Thanks!

I realized I'm answering this one out of order. Whoops! Anyway, have some pre-Mushroom Kingdom conversations and lore-building as your author reminisces about the New York of the '90s.

~~~~~~

He wonders, sometimes, what their lives would have looked like if they had never left Brooklyn.

Barring a miracle - pretty bleak, in all honesty. Maybe being here, in the Mushroom Kingdom, was the miracle. He remembers the frenzied few days leading up to their disappearance. The previous few months had been a mess of unpaid bills and awful business decisions governed solely by spite and fear. They were probably a few months of missed rent payments away from eviction. They were definitely two days away from getting their kneecaps bashed in by some loan shark’s goons. 

He and Mario had gone for a walk, all the way down to Coney Island, 75th to Stillwell to Bowery, to the decrepit-looking Wonder Wheel and a depressingly empty Nathan’s Hot Dogs. It looked like the last of the hotels, some once-bright vestige of his mother’s era, had finally been condemned, tall wire fencing curling up towards the grey winter sky, a perfunctory guard which did nothing to keep out the local graffiti artists and homeless population. 

Luigi jammed his hands into his jean pockets, shivering. He couldn’t tell if he was freezing or terrified.

“What are we gonna do, Mario? We can’t stay here. If he doesn’t get us, the landlord will. You see how they’re starting to develop all that stuff around 86th Street. It’s going to travel north and we’re already behind two months in rent. We can’t stay in Bensonhurst.” Luigi sighed, little frozen puffs of air floating from his mouth. “I don’t even know if we can stay in Brooklyn at this rate.”

It was a miracle they weren’t out on the streets already. For once, their landlord’s habit of sitting around with a bottle of Thunderbird watching Honeymooners reruns and screaming at “that bum El Duque” to throw more strikes fell to their advantage. Sure, there was no such thing as maintenance in the dilapidated six-floor walk-up. But they were plumbers, tradesmen - a leaky faucet or misbehaving shower wasn’t going to be an issue.

Unfortunately, they weren’t also exterminators. 

Mario took a large bite of his hotdog, mustard splattering on the gum-stained sidewalk. It looked like something they’d hang in one of those trendy galleries that kept popping up in lower Manhattan, down around Houston Street. 

“We’re gonna be fine, Lou,” Mario said between bites, bits of bun falling from his mouth.

“We’re gonna end up homeless.” Or missing our kneecaps. Or worse.

Mario crammed the last of his dinner in his mouth, finishing off the hot dog with a few loud chews. He gave a contented sigh, licking at his greasy fingers before wiping his hands on his pants. “No, we’re not gonna be homeless. I’ve told you a million times, Lou, we could be in a cardboard box under the Van Wyck. When we’re together - “ Mario slung an arm around Luigi’s shoulder, pulling him in tight. “When I’m with you - I’m home. We’re unbeatable. And that means we’ll make it through this.”

Luigi eyed his brother’s yellow-tinged fingers and stained shirt cuff, hoping the impromptu moment of fraternal affection would pass. He could deal with Mario’s sunny optimism, usually. But living in a studio apartment one step up from a garbage dump had apparently encouraged his brother’s disposition towards a more slovenly existence. They might be home when they were together, but it wouldn’t hurt if Mario took a damn vacuum to himself once in a while. 

“Mario, I think this time - ”

“Oh, I get it.” The warm arm around his shoulder disappeared, his brother’s voice hardening. Luigi snapped his head to the side, his heart rocketing into his throat. What did I say this time?  

“It’s the location, isn’t it?” His brother gave him a searching, serious look. He looks just like Dad. He even seemed as if he were towering over Luigi, just like Dad used to, despite Mario being the shortest of the three of them. “You’d prefer a box under the BQE.”

Luigi gaped. “I - what?”

“Nah, nah, okay,” Mario waved his hands. “Let’s talk location. You wanna be by the Belt? Or maybe - “ A sly smile grew under his brother’s burgeoning mustache. “You want to move to Queens.”

“Oh my God,” Luigi groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm, pulling his hand down over his eyes. I’d move to Jersey if it got us out of this mess. “Mario, be serious.”

“I am serious! Your secret’s safe with me, bro. Even if you would betray Brooklyn like that." Luigi felt two steady hands take him by the biceps. “Besides, we’re gonna be okay.”

“Vinny Razzanti’s uncle said we had forty-eight hours,” Luigi groaned between his fingers.

Mario barked out a laugh. “Vinny Razzanti’s uncle couldn’t tell a pizza from a clock if we arranged the pepperonis the right way. The guy’s a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but he’s - “

“No, I ain’t hearing it.” Mario gently guided Luigi’s hands from his face, keeping his fingers wrapped around either wrist as he brought Luigi’s arms to his sides. “Look at me, Lou.”

Luigi swallowed down the wet desperation clawing its way up his throat, opening his eyes to his brother’s concerned, but steely gaze.

“If he comes, he comes. I’ve got a baseball bat next to the mattress and you can - “ Mario waved one of his arms in a broad gesture. “I dunno. Make some kind of exploding gadget or something. You used to want to show off your stuff to Cooper Union, right? Well, think of this as practice, you know, for the application.”

Luigi gave a small shake of his head. I don’t think home pyrotechnics meant to fend off low-level mafia muscle are going to impress the admissions committee. Not that they were going to waste their time with a twenty-one-year-old plumber’s application, anyway. That dream was long gone, buried in Cypress Hills along with their parents. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mario’s voice broke through his dreary ruminations as he guided Luigi towards Bowery Street. “We’re gonna walk home, maybe pick up a cannoli on the way. Then we’re gonna check the answering machine. If we’re lucky - and I’m feeling pretty lucky right now - there will be a call from some lady in Borough Park.” His brother’s eyes gleamed. “No, even better, some widower in Carroll Gardens. One of those nice brownstones. She’s going to ask for our help. Clogged drains, backed up shower, toilet’s kablooey.” Mario made a slobbering sound meant to resemble a backed up toilet. Luigi thought he sounded like a dog on downers. “The whole shebang. We’ll say, of course, we can fix this, but we’ll have to charge the emergency rate. You know, business and all that. Three hours later - maybe four - boom! Vinny Razzanti’s uncle is out of the picture and we’ll be on our way to the good life.”

“You make it sound so simple, bro.” Luigi couldn’t quite contain the bite of sarcasm that accompanied that statement. 

As always, his brother took his waspishness in stride. Long strides, in fact, as they hurried past the metal skeletons that made up the Coney Island Train Yard, the whirr of traffic from the Belt Parkway rushing and thumping above them. Luigi felt like at any moment some old, rusted buckle would give way, sending a line of cabs and buses crashing into their heads.

He felt like that most of the time these days, to be honest. 

“It is simple, Luigi. You just gotta think positive. You never know what’s around the corner.” Mario tugged at his sleeve. “Now, come on. If we walk fast enough, we can get to Villbate’s before they close.”

“Alright, alright, you win, Mario. Something’s around the corner and for once, maybe it won’t be a guy with a baseball bat.” No. It won’t be a bat. It’ll be something worse. Like a flamethrower. Luigi was too tired to argue with his brother’s indomitable optimism. “Maybe we’ll get to your widower in Carroll Gardens and find the answers in her bathroom.”

Mario slapped his brother on the back. “That’s the spirit, Lou! Could be a whole new world waiting for us. Now let’s go - there’s a pistachio cannoli with my name on it and I am not missing out.”

“Hey, the pistachio cannolis are mine!”

“Not if you don’t run fast enough!” Mario gave his brother a playful push, taking off down Stillwell Avenue. Luigi watched his brother leap over a pile of trash bags, skittering between two cabs, one of which blared its horn in anger.

“Where you go, I guess I follow,” Luigi muttered to himself, adjusting his cap before taking off in his brother’s direction. And who knew? Maybe something was waiting for them around that corner.

[mommycitas]

hiii could i pls request negan x reader where the reader is sick and brings negan food in his cell bc it was her job and she starts to fight blacking out. maybe collapses right by his door and he reaches for the keys and gets out to help her. reader being concerned he’ll get in trouble bc he runs up the stairs to get someone’s attention maybe coming straight back to you. stuttering a “i’m scared” and holding out your hand. negan just being like r u sure and he holds it

A/N; thank you for the req!!! I love this idea so much and I hope you love what I wrote!!! And for the sickness I just gave reader like a flu/parasite typa thing but if you wanted something else lmk!!!

summary; Even when you are sick, you still have a job you have to do. When your body shuts down on itself, you get to see a sweet side of Alexandrias prisoner.

pairing; Negan x sick!fem!reader

Pronouns/Name; She/Her , Y/N

Warning; swearing, being sick, throwing up, mentions of death, feeling like dying. NOT PROOF READ !!

Word count; 786

You shift in bed, covered in a hot coating of sweat and having a pounding headache. Sitting up you already regret ever being born. You couldn’t handle being sick and here you were, a mess that felt like death. But still, you had your dumb ass job. Being able to live in Alexandria was great and all but for fucks sake, why couldn’t someone else feed fucking Negan when you were in bed practically throwing your guts up? Feeding Negan wasn’t much to do but it was 90 degrees out under the blaring sun and doing all that walking wasn’t really your idea of a good day. But then again, Michonne said you have too because you’re the only person that can stand being around him. You put on your comfiest summer clothes and walk to the pantry.

Most of the time, someone had already prepared his lunch for you. Everyone felt bad you had to deliver all his meals to him but you really didn't mind him. You felt like one of these days you'd be able to see the sweet side of him. You make it to the pantry and find a meal fit for a prisoner inside. You sigh to yourself spinning on your heels and making your way to his cell. You look up at the sun and can’t help but already feel exhausted and ready to go back to bed. Tiny black dots sprinkle your vision as you walk down the steps to the holding room. Fumbling your keys and opening the door you’re welcomed with a warm smile from Negan. "Hey doll, how are ya?" He gleefully asks "Oh, you know" you shrug off. You stumble over to the cell he's locked in and grab out your keys once again. "How are you today Negan?" you slur while inserting the key, but he gives you a strange look. You feel a wave of heat wash over you before you drop the tray.

The sound of the metal clanging on the concrete floor rings in your ears as your vision goes blurry. Your legs start to give up as you topple over. Looking up at Negan through the black spots in your vision. You watch carefully as he reaches through the bars and opens his cell and runs out. "Shit!" you thought "he's gonna get his shit kicked, he's gonna get in so much trouble, and it's all my fault." you feel an abundance of saliva in your mouth as you try and sit up, throwing up all over yourself. Laying in a puddle of your own spit, throw up, and blood. It feels like you've been left for dead, you can barely even sit up, how are you supposed to get help? How were you supposed to know that a simple sickness would be the cause of your death?

You turned over to look at the entrance and saw Negan running down the stairs and kneeling next to you. "Sorry for leaving you, doll. I had to get someone to help." you smile slightly at him before coughing yet again. "Negan" you stutter and slur "I'm so scared." reaching your hand out to his "Am I dying?" he stares at you blankly, hesitating for what seems like years "No, no you're not dying Y/N. You'll be alright." grabbing your hand intertwined in his. Michonne and Siddiq run down the stairs and lift you up, caring you to the infirmary. Negan never letting go off your hand once as you passed out.

You open your eyes and see you are in the infirmary, laying on a pitiful cot. Siddiq is right next to you, replacing your iv bag. "Oh good, you're finally awake!" He proclaims once he notices you. "You had a real nasty bug, thankfully nothing too serious." You smile and nod "Thank you Siddiq" No longer slurring or stuttering "Where's Negan?" he gives you a weird look before pointing to a corner of the room. As you sit up and turn your head you see Negan, blissfully sleeping in an arm chair. "He's been here since you got here, he refused to leave your side." "How long was I out for?" looking back at Siddiq. He shrugs "A day or two maybe"

You look back at Negan and realize you finally were able to see the sweet side of him. You watch as he slowly opens his eyes and notices you're awake. "Doll, you're up!" he practically jumps over to you, embracing you in a warm hug. "I was so worried you wouldn't wake up." You softly smile into his neck and wrap your arms around him. You were thankful for the man who was a monster in all your friends eyes.

[marvelobsessed134]

Sparks Fly part 2

Series masterlist

A/n: so sorry this took so long to get out 😭 also the timeline is kinda messed up but it’s 90s!tommy in this story so yeah takes place in the 90s

Pairings: Tommy Lee x Fem!Country Singer!reader

And soon enough you got a call from Tommy. He asked you out for dinner and of course you said yes. You’re so nervous, though. You know of his reputation and how he was with drugs not too long ago. But he’s so handsome and was so sweet you. You just had to say yes.

So, you’re in a light pink dress with peasant sleeves. Your hair in a ponytail with a light pink bow on it. Light makeup adorned your face. You had some pearl jewelry and white kitten heels. As you stood in front of the hotel room mirror making sure everything looked good when you got a knock on the door.

You sighed before shoving your nerves down and opening the door. Tommy stood before you with a grin on his face and flowers in his hand.

“Wow, you look…” he trailed off taking in your whole outfit.

You blushed, “Thanks.”

“Oh!” He said suddenly, jerking the flowers towards you, “I got you these. Wasn’t sure what your preferences on flowers were but thought I’d get ‘em anyways.” You took the bouquet from him and brought them to your nose, sniffing them.

“They’re beautiful Tommy.” You gushed before walking over and setting them on the nightstand. You’ll have to find a way to travel with them without them dying.

Then, the two of you were off on your first date. He took you to this very nice restaurant in Hollywood. Despite you having quite a bit of money yourself, it was way more fancy than you’ve ever been to.

The waiter showed you to your table and the questions began.

“So, I noticed you’re in a hotel…is your house getting renovated or something?” The drummer asked.

“Oh no. I live in Nashville but since I did a few shows here I stayed in a hotel.” You explained the most obvious reason why you were in a hotel.

“Nashville huh? So you’re a real country girl.”

You chuckled, “I guess you can say that. I’ve lived there my whole life. It’s my home yknow?”

“Yeah I can see that.”

It was quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, “So what’s going on with the band right now? I heard you guys laid off Vince?” It was a touchy subject sure, but you really wanted to know what the hell they were thinking when they fired the singer.

“Yeah, but it’s all cool cause we got a new guy, John Corabi. It’s better that way.” And he left it at that.

The two of you talked more and more, all throughout the night. You just couldn’t stop asking about each other.

As Tommy walked you out towards his Ferrari you said, “That was one of the most fun dates I’ve had in a long time.”

“Really?” He looked down at you and raised an eyebrow.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, “Yeah.”

“I’m glad then. I guess I held up to your standards?”

“Haha, yeah. I mean it’s not like I have any to begin with but you’re so respectful and sweet. Not to offend you but you’re a lot different than-“

“The media makes me out to be? Yeah. When I find a girl I really like I make sure to treat her as a queen.” Your stomach fluttered with butterflies.

The two of you got in his car and he turned on the radio but turned down the volume so you could still talk.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked you this but how old are you?” He asked.

“23.” You answered honestly.

“Ok, I’m 31. Was just making sure.”

“I thought you liked younger girls?” You teased.

“I do well- not under 18 girls you know…over 18? Fuck.”

You giggled as he tried to explain himself, “It’s fine. You know my mama told me not to go with older men better yet men in rock n roll bands but, you’re just so…different.” Tommy smiled at your southern accent.

“I’m not the best man in the world, I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit. Maybe not as much as Nikki but…” the drummer trailed off.

You put your hand over his that was sitting on the center console. He looked over at you with those brown eyes. “We’re human, we all do things we regret. That’s just how life works. Imagine if we didn’t do anything wrong, that’d be really boring and no lessons would be learned.”

“I see why you have an award for best songwriting.”

“Yeah, I guess Im somewhat of a poet myself.”

[squidorcuddlefish]

can you please PLEASE write a devon x reader where he takes you out to the vineyard and plays guitar for you under the stars I NEED IT SO BAD

a/n: DEVONNNN DEVON I LOVE DEVON!!!!!!!!!!!! this req is SO cute i’m crying

—

“Psst, hey.”

You turn to Devon, the soft glow of the TV the only light in the living room. You tilt your head and hum a “Hm?”

He practically jumps off the couch, the shared blanket falling off of the cushions and onto the floor. You look up at him and blink.

“Come with me,” He says, holding his hand out for you to grab onto. “I wanna bring you somewhere.”

You reach for your phone in your pockets, checking the time; 10:36. “Now? It’s kinda late, Dev.”

“I know, I know, but…” He has an excited smile on his face. “Just let me show you.” He gestures his still extended hand.

You pause for a moment before agreeing, taking his hand and following him off of the couch. You watch him grab a basket and his keys off of the kitchen counter before heading out the door.

—

When he started to slow down the car, it seemed like you were seriously in the middle of nowhere. He must’ve been able to read your facial expression, because he followed with, “I know, just trust me.”

You stepped out of the car and looked up at the stars. You had to admit, the sky looked gorgeous. You had to have been far from downtown, because it was silent other than the chirp of the crickets. Devon then took your hand, leading you forward into the vineyard.

For how dark it was, Devon was surprisingly good at finding where he was going. He turned through the grapevines, looking back at you occasionally to make sure you were keeping up well. His hand never moved from yours.

You finally came to a stop in the middle of a row of vines. It didn’t seem any different than any of the other rows of grapevines, but you didn’t care to question.

You look down to see a cute picnic setup. A soft, off white blanket with several unlit candles on top, along with a metal bowl and his guitar. You giggle, and Devon smiles back.

Devon lowered himself to sit. You followed suit, and he soon scooted closer to you. He took out a baggie of ice from the basket and pours it into the bowl. Two wine glasses and a bottle of wine were next out of the basket. He struggles with the cork on the bottle for a moment before it finally opens with a pop. He pours two glasses and hands you one before placing the bottle into the bowl of ice.

He leans forward to light the candles, which gave a warm glow over the picnic area.

“Well,” He breaks the silence. “I saw tonight was supposed to be nice out with low cloud coverage, so, I thought we could sit out here.” He looks up at the sky before looking back at you.

You smile, leaning on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet.”

He gives a sheepish laugh in response, then wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. You feel a small kiss on the top of your head from him.

He holds out his glass to you. You tap yours against his, the glass giving a cheerful clink. You both take a sip.

He looks up at the sky again. “Isn’t it pretty?”

You whisper, “Yeah.”

“Not as pretty as you.” He added.

You snort, and he follows your laugher.

“You are so cheesy, Devon.” You tease through laughs.

He responds simply, “I know.”

You sigh contently, finding your place back against Devon’s shoulder. He gently rubs your arm with his thumb.

“Hey,” He says, reaching over for his guitar. “Any song requests?”

“Mmm… No, you choose.” You hum.

“Sublime? Third Eye Blind? Bush?” He clicks his tongue, plucking at the strings and adjusting the tune.

“Bush, Everything Zen.” You suggest. You know it’s his favorite.

—

a/n: AAAHHH i hope this is okay!!!!!! lord i haven’t written in so long….. devon save me. also DEVON CANON 90’S ALT/GRUNGE FAN GAAAHHHH I LOVE HIM