#Like Mac is the h word person

[general-fanfiction]

Let Me Help You. (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Word Count: 6.2K

Steve's got a crush on the girl next door. Though not everything is as it seems.

Warning: Mature language, domestic violence, cheating (kind of, maybe?), smut, p in v sex

Steve knew he was in trouble the moment the moving van pulled to a halt at the house next door. He was never one to make an effort with people, at best he would reluctantly greet any new neighbors with his parents after his mother’s persistence. It’s not like he was being nosy, he just so happened to glance out of one of his bedroom windows as the family exited the van. They looked nice, friendly, nothing too out of the ordinary, just a very all-American couple. Or so he thought.

He continued to watch as they waved for a third person to climb out the vehicle and admire their new home. Steve wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, however, upon seeing her, perhaps he felt differently. She was anything but ordinary, a ray of sunshine in the boring old town of Hawkins. Dressed in a short red dress with a thin white cardigan draped over top, he took note of the way she wrapped the thin material tighter around her body. As though she felt too exposed. Steve admired everything about the mysterious girl, from the dazzling smile on her face, to the way her hair was tied back in an adorable white bow. Heart pounding at an alarming rate, he knew deep down that this girl may very well be the death of him.

In the months that followed, despite Steve’s hope to get to know the girl next door, she seemed to pay no interest in him. They’d exchanged pleasantries, come to learn one another’s names and briefly made small talk if they passed each other outside of their homes. Steve couldn’t understand what he had done wrong, sure, he knew that following his graduation from Hawkins High, he had lost his King Steve ways. Yet, he thought he at least had the same charm, not to mention she hadn’t once seen him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, so he couldn’t pretend that that’s what had turned her off.

He’d come to understand her routine by now, knowing that she often climbed out of her bedroom window, shimmying down the drainpipe in the dead of night when she thinks nobody will see her. Only to return a few hours later, creeping back into her house before the first crack of dawn, ensuring that her parents didn’t know of her nighttime activities. Sometimes, she gets dropped off by a mysterious white chevy camaro, and whilst Steve never caught sight of the driver, he assumed it was a boy. Heart sinking to his stomach everytime the car would pull into their driveway, knowing that it wasn’t him that she was spending the night with.

He swore he wasn’t obsessed, insisting to Robin that he was just ensuring that she returned home safely after she caught him gazing out of the window one too many times. It’s not like she had no idea who the fascinating girl was, Steve spoke about her often, disguising the very obvious crush as nothing more than an interest in her wellbeing. Robin wasn’t stupid. Knowing her best friend like the back of her hand and it was obvious that he was head over heels in love with this girl that he hardly knew.

Which leads us to present day, Steve was sitting in the alcove of his window, curtains open slightly, blowing gently with the light summer breeze. Fleetwood Mac played softly from the record player beside him, though he wasn’t focused on the music. Eyes drifting between the magazine in his hand to the house next door, awaiting his neighbor’s return. He watched the hands on his watch ominously creep forward and he couldn’t help but feel a pit of worry begin to form within his gut. 04:37AM. She’s normally back by now. Usually climbing back through her bedroom window at around 4AM. 

Deep down, Steve knew that it had nothing to do with him, what she chose to do in her spare time. The pair weren’t even friends, if she wanted to stay out all night then he couldn’t stop her. However, he knew this wasn’t like her. Not wanting to feel like a creep for watching the girl so intently, he did his best to quash the nerves bubbling inside him. Forcing himself to stay awake, no matter how tired he felt or how much his eyelids were desperate for the sweet relief of sleep.

5:49AM. Sometime between now and him previously checking the time, Steve must have drifted into an uneasy slumber. The sound of a car door slamming before revving the engine and flying off down the street is what pulls him back to consciousness. Startling him as he eagerly pulls the curtain back gently so as not to draw attention to himself. Though, when he takes in the sight of the girl, all his excitement at the few seconds he is granted to observe her, vanishes instantly when he notices her appearance. 

Even in the dim orange light, he is clearly able to make out the violent bruise beneath her left eye, swollen to the point she is almost unable to open it at all. Evidently recent, her skin is already beginning to turn a deep mauve. Her lips are no better, mahogany brown lipstick smeared across her face as though a child has scrawled it on. There’s a deep, gaping cut directly through her bottom lip, dried blood in a dirty shade of red cracks in the corner of her mouth. While fresh scarlet liquid continues to fall and drip from the wound, stained across her chin as she shakily brings a hand to her face, attempting to wipe it the best she can.

For the first time in his life, Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s tempted to sprint down there, offer her any assistance she may need but he’s afraid that it may scare her away. So instead, he watches with a racing heart as she struggles to pull herself through her bedroom window. Clearly having lost any strength she may have had previously. His heart is broken for her and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay.

Lost in his thoughts, he is completely unaware that the girl has seen him watching. Hastily snapping her curtains closed as she allows the tears to fall freely without prying eyes following her every move. She’s embarrassed that Steve saw her in such a state, oblivious to the fact that he still thought she was the most breathtaking being to ever walk the planet, in spite of her injuries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a week and a half since Steve had caught me returning home, bloody and bruised. Ever since, I’ve been avoiding the boy as much as physically possible. Checking that he isn’t in his window before I make my escape from the house. It’s not like we talk much, Luke made sure of that the second he laid eyes on my neighbor, however, I don’t want him to think any less of me. I was always cautious around Steve, putting on my best display of a pretty, confident girl, even if I felt anything but. That was how I wanted him to perceive me. I certainly didn’t want him to view me as weak, or judge me for what has happened.

Steve caught my eye the minute he entered my family’s house warming party, every lady in the vicinity flocking over to him. Vying for a slither of his attention, yet, I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept wandering to mine. Friendly smiles shared between the two of us before a proper introduction from our parents. It wasn’t hard to see why the ladies adored him. He was charming, polite and ever so funny, and despite only talking for a matter of minutes, I found myself entranced by him. Wanting to learn every little detail and explore every inch of his body.

I shouldn’t have thought about him this way, not when I have a boyfriend. However, I simply just couldn’t help myself. Luke has never been a good guy, I knew that when I began dating him, often finding himself in trouble with the police, unafraid to drag me down with him. Though, he was always good to me, at least until I met Steve. For whatever reason, Luke became overwhelmed with rage, something about knowing his reputation and what he was like at school. The night of the party was when Luke laid a hand on me for the first time, a swift smack to the cheek after I mentioned Steve’s name in conversation. Each time it happened, he would continue on as though nothing had taken place. Silently handing me flowers or another small gift the next day, an apology without actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’. I tell myself that I will leave and never see him again but I continue to run back. Fearful that if I do leave, I won’t find love again.

After checking to find no sign of Steve, I carefully begin my descent down the drainpipe, hopping on to the grass below me when I’m only a few meters above the ground. Brushing my hands to rid myself of any dirt that may have come from the pipe, I turn to begin the walk to the end of the road where I meet Luke and his friends, only to find Steve standing mere feet away. Hands in the pockets of his Levi’s, leaning against the side of his house, having been waiting for me. How did I not see him when he was standing right there?

“I saw you the other night, and I needed to know that you’re okay.” He speaks softly, almost as if he’s scared that I’m going to take off running. His eyes are scanning my face, studying me, attempting to see how bad my wounds were. Unfortunately, my face is plastered in makeup, hiding the unsightly damage.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m unable to look the boy in the eyes as I lie to his face. Focusing instead on the scuffed converse glued to my feet, trying to think of a thousand different ways to get myself out of this situation.

Steve sighs, pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards me slowly, and whilst doing my best to keep my distance, I find myself with my back pressed to my own house. Almost identical to his positioning only moments ago.

He’s closer now, standing directly in front of me and I can only pray that my makeup combined with the barely there moonlight, truly hides what Luke did to me. With shaking hands, he nervously takes my jaw between his fingers, my breath catching in my throat as he does so. Gently moving my head from side to side in order to truly examine my features. Judging by the look of concern that flashes across his face and the way he takes a deep breath as he lowers his hand, I know he knows the truth.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He whispers, coffee brown eyes gazing directly into mine, asserting that his words are truthful. “What happened to you?”

Something about him has me hanging on to his every word, believing that I am truly safe with him. Assuring me that perhaps Steve could be my way out, the reason I don’t return. He has such a warm presence, it’s inviting and I just want to spill my guts to him.

Opening my mouth to speak, I’m forced to remain silent as the familiar sound of a car engine grinds to a halt on my driveway. Whether I was going to tell Steve everything or simply deny everything, I’m unsure, but the moment that car appears, my mouth remains shut. Glancing over to the driver’s seat, I can just about see Luke over the beams of his headlights. Fear begins to flood my body as I can see the deep scowl set upon his face.

“I have to go.”

Pushing past Steve, I force myself to muster up a smile, not wanting to give Luke another reason to be upset with me. I mean, I can’t blame him for being mad at me tonight, he warned me to stay away from Steve and yet, he’s caught me red handed clearly disobeying the one thing he asked of me. It definitely doesn’t help that Steve grabs hold of my wrist as I begin to walk away, causing me to snap my head back to look at him. Brows furrowed in annoyance, I know he is just trying to help, to be a good person but he is only going to make things worse for me.

“Please. Don’t go.” His voice breaks, and for a split second I allow my eyes to soften, shaking my arm out of his grasp. Attempting to reassure him with the tiniest of smiles before silently hurrying over to the car.

Luke doesn’t even acknowledge me as I slide in beside him, possessively grabbing my thigh, a display of dominance. He has an eerie smirk on his face, not once taking his eyes off Steve, who stands in the same spot defeated, claiming his ownership over me. As much as it pains me, I keep my head down, sinking further into the seat, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth entirely.

For the rest of the night, my mind is plagued with thoughts of Steve. The hurt in his eyes as I walked away. I can’t bring myself to engage in any conversation that takes place, not like Luke wants me to anyway. He’s icing me out. Clearly upset about the situation he found me in, his friends must also sense the tension as they make no effort to include me.

Beers continue to flow throughout the night, hands shaking every time I place another can into Luke’s hand. He’s driving us home, though shows no sign of stopping despite being on what must be his eighth carlsberg in the span of only a few hours. It doesn’t help that his pals encourage him, egging him on to drink as much as I can, laughing at the idea of recklessly driving through the streets of Hawkins. To them, it’s a game. Let’s see how much we can drink and still make it home, to me it’s a life or death situation. Afraid that in his intoxicated state, we actually won’t make it home in one piece.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen Robin, she needs help.” Steve sighs into the receiver, eyes never leaving the window, not wanting to miss the girl’s return. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she will allow him to help her.

“Steve, as nice as it is that you care, it’s none of our business. Besides, you don’t even know what happened, for all we know she could be in some elusive fight club and the good girl act she has going on is nothing more than that.” Robin twirls the cord of the phone around her finger, she’s never met the mystery girl that her best friend seems to be hypnotized by, worried that he is possibly getting in over his head, if what he is saying is true.

“He hits her Robin! I know it, she won’t admit it but I know he does.” His voice is strained, sounding as though he could burst into tears at any moment and Robin can’t help but feel sorry for him. She’s never seen him care this much about a girl, especially  one that is practically a stranger. Sure, he loved Nancy, but this seemed different. In a way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. “God, I’d love to know who the bastard is that’s doing this.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there Steve, let’s say for argument’s sake, you’re right. Her boyfriend is a piece of shit and is getting physical with her, in which case she does need help. Question one, what are you gonna do exactly to help her? Question two, what do you actually think you’re gonna do to the asshole boyfriend because last time I checked, you’ve lost every fight you’ve ever been in. And number three, why do you care so much about this mystery girl? I mean, from what I’ve gathered, you know nothing about her other than her name.”

Robin’s words, although intended to help him, hit Steve like a ton of bricks. What was he actually going to do to help her? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, possibly because somewhere deep down he believed that she would continue to refuse any support from him. Nor did he know why he cared so much. It was like there was some magnetic force tugging his heart towards her anytime she was nearby. A pull so strong that he was unable to deny it, not that he wanted to. 

“Fuck, I don’t know Rob, I don’t have a plan okay. I just can’t let her get hurt anymore-” Before Steve can say anything else, he hears the very faint sound of footsteps dragging down the sidewalk outside. Immediately dropping the phone, he’s bolting towards the window, Robin’s voice calling for him distantly. Not even his worst nightmares could’ve prepared him for what he witnessed.

He thought he’d seen her at her worst, nothing surpassing the extent of her previous injuries, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Deep and gaping slash across her forehead, a bright crimson red that cuts off just below her eyebrow. The cut on her lip reopened, once again pouring with blood. All of the makeup that she had left the house in was nowhere to be seen, violet bruises litter her jaw, matching the black eye she is no longer able to hide.

Tears prick at the corner of Steve’s eyes, watching as she carefully limps towards their houses. Struggling to walk, no doubt from the physical pain she is enduring, one arm clutching her side the entire time. Informing him that the wounds on her face aren’t the only ones she has obtained. 

Incapable of holding himself back, Steve is sprinting out of his bedroom and down the large oak staircase. Thanking the heavens that his parents are away on yet another work trip so he doesn’t have to explain everything to them. They wouldn’t understand his need to help, insisting that whatever she was going through was a personal matter and that he shouldn’t be meddling in other people’s private lives.

He yanks the door open with so much force that it thumps against the wall, he’s only two steps outside his house when he realizes that she is standing in front of him. Half expecting to find her attempting to climb the drainpipe, he can’t hide the shock on his face as she stands gripping one of the posts at the bottom of the stairs leading to his porch. She wheezes, breath rattling each time she takes a gasp for air and he knows that’s not a good sign. 

Standing beneath him under the lights from his house, he is able to see more clearly just how bad her injuries truly were. Red marks wrap around her neck, an indication of strangulation and he has to stop himself from breaking down right then and there. Wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

“I couldn’t go home.” She chokes out, lifting the hand that clutches her side, hand stained red. Raising his eyes to her stomach, he spots the wet patch on her t-shirt and releases a shaky gasp. Before he can even think about his actions, he is striding over to her, strong arms embracing her smaller figure to aid her into his house.

It’s with great difficulty that they reach the porch, her knees ready to give out at any moment. Though she’d been fighting for this long, she finally loses the last of her energy after completing the stairs. Caught off guard by her sudden fall, Steve almost drops the girl, catching her at the last second and easing her to the wood beneath their feet. He couldn’t lie and say that he isn’t panicked because he is. Completely out of his depth in this situation, he has no idea what to do. Watching her face drain slowly of its color, he knows he’s losing time and yet his mind is blank. Lost on what he needs to do.

Eyelids flickering shut, he sees whatever light she had left in them fading away more and more each time her eyes close. Hands gripping her face gently, his thumbs push loose strands of hair out of her face as he gazes down at her, heart shattering at the thought of losing her entirely.

“Don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!” Steve sees the slight smile on her face as she listens to his voice, it’s the first time he’s seen her smile in a long time and he thinks to himself that she is still the most perfect girl he has ever laid eyes on. Even if his hands have left bloodied handprints all over her cheeks as he cradles her face.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soft melodies flutter quietly from down the hallway, the sun beaming through the open windows makes it hard for my eyes to adjust as I prop myself up in bed. Stomach aching harshly as I do so, a tightness making it hard for me to move properly. Lifting the unfamiliar yellow sweater, I find the entirety of my torso wrapped up in a neat, white bandage. Pinned carefully so as not to poke my skin. I struggle to place the bedroom I’m in, it’s unknown to me and still I find myself comforted in this new environment.

My feet follow the sound of the new Queen album, Freddie Mercury’s powerful vocals leading me to the large, open plan kitchen. The distinct smell of grilled tomatoes drifts over to me, a homely scent. Eyes rising from the hardwood floor, it’s only then that I see him, a loose red sweater hanging from his broad shoulder, paired with loose black pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips. He hasn’t noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever he is cooking up to sense my presence, lips mouthing the words to whichever song is playing. The corners of my lips quirk up in a shy smile, imagining a life in another reality where this was how I woke up everything morning.

“Good morning.”

My voice is quiet as I lean against the doorframe, careful not to rest any of my side against the wall. Steve jumps, mouth falling open slightly in surprise as his eyes find mine. My smile grows wider as he drops the wooden spoon he previously held, not caring as it hits the floor with a clatter. He pads over to me eagerly, throwing his arms around my shoulder and tugging me into his chest. I can tell by the way that he’s holding me, he’s scared of hurting me. His touch light, not daring to hold me too tight. However, I do catch the way his grip tightens on the sweater when my arms slide around his waist, allowing my head to rest against his chest. Hearing the steady beat of his heart releases all the tension and stress I had built up within me and I relax entirely.

Much to my dismay, Steve releases me from the embrace after a few short minutes, keeping his hands on my shoulders firmly, worry evident in the browns of his eyes as he makes a mental note of every little cut and bruise on my face. I feel him delicately brush the backs of his fingers down the side of my face, tracing over what I assume is  another bandage of some sort as I no longer feel his touch on my skin when he reaches my forehead. He’s trying his best to hide the frown on his face, but I’m studying him so intently that I don’t miss it.

“I’m okay Steve, I promise.”

“Let me help you.” He whispers, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of my head as he pulls me in for a second hug, resting his chin on the same part of me that he just kissed. “You’re breaking my heart Y/N, please, just tell me what’s going on.”

With a small sigh, I reluctantly pull myself away from the taller boy. Playing with the hem of the sweater that just about covers me, as I wander over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the many stools. I sit opposite Steve, who stands with his elbows resting against the counter top. Tomatoes sizzling away, completely forgotten about by the both of us.

I have to swallow the lump in my throat, realizing that I am in fact about to confess possibly the most shameful and embarrassing secret of my life to the boy that I have fantasized about since the day we first met. It’s impossible to describe the effect he has on me, only Steve Harrington could be the one to coax my deep dark secrets out after keeping them hidden for months. Only Steve Harrington would be the one person to care enough.

“I don’t really know what to say, Luke was a nice boyfriend at first, he drank too much and got into trouble a lot but he was nice. When I moved next door to you though, he became crazily jealous, he’d lash out at me if I even so much as mentioned your name. Something about a bad past between the two of you. He never used to get physical, it only started a few months back, he would just get so unbelievably angry. It didn’t matter what I did, the littlest thing could set him off and he’d just see red.” Steve has his hands to his mouth as I speak, almost like he can’t believe what I’m saying. His expression is one of pain and I can’t hide the sadness I feel as I tell him the truth. “Last night was the worst. Luke, he drank far too much, a lot more than he should’ve since he was driving. I think he was just trying to scare me by going so fast but we got into an argument and he took his eyes off the road for literally like ten seconds. We almost went headfirst into a huge brick wall but I grabbed the wheel and instead we spun off the road, down into a ditch and hit a tree. I think that’s where I got all the cuts from, the windows shattered and glass was everywhere. I mean, the car is totaled completely. 

Then Luke lost it. He was screaming at me, that it was my fault we crashed. I just remember him pulling me out of the car and wrapping his hands around my throat. Steve, I thought I was going to die.”

I’m staring over at him with such vulnerability that his own gaze softens. Reaching over the counter to wipe away the tears that slide down my cheeks. Movements cautious and tender.

“I think I must’ve kept blacking out because everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember him being on top of me, punching me and how I struggled to breathe. The next thing I know, I’m on your doorstep, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents can’t know about this, they’d be devastated and well, I feel safe with you.”

Steve’s round the island the second I stop talking, nudging himself between my thighs and taking my hands in his. Thumbs lightly rubbing over the tops of my knuckles. I know in my heart that he is a good man, that he isn’t judging me for what I have been through. Yet, the longer he remains silent, the more I feel the worry gnawing at me. Terrified that he is going to shame me for what I confessed.

“Promise me, you’ll never go back.” Steve speaks firmly, piercing eyes focused solely on my own. Even if I was afraid to leave before, I don’t think I physically can say no to that handsome face of his.

“I promise.”

“Stay with me, for as long as you want. I’ll take care of you, I swear it. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

The determination on Steve’s face and in his voice has me smiling like a child on christmas. Things would’ve been so much simpler had I met him before Luke. I wouldn’t have endured all of the trauma of the past few months. Though, gazing up at him right now, with nothing but love and care in his eyes, I can’t help but wonder if this is how things were supposed to happen.

“Only if you want to stay here, if you want me that is?” His gaze falters for the first time since I entered the kitchen, fearful he may have overstepped. I know he’s not asking me to be his girlfriend, or for anything serious at all. The question, however, has me feeling slightly dizzy, understanding that he’s asking if I want him to be around. To be by my side and help me through all of this.

“I do want this.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After taking a much needed shower, and pulling the yellow sweater back over my body, I feel content laid in Steve’s bed, aimlessly flipping through one of his magazines as I await his return. The boy was hesitant to tell me where he was going, insisting he just had to run a few errands and that he would be back shortly. He’s only been gone two hours at best and I still find myself missing his warm presence already.

When I hear the faint sound of the main door clicking, my head perks up, moving to sit upright so that I can greet him the second he walks through the threshold of his bedroom. Opening the bedroom door slowly, I notice he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at me. A sharp tinge of hurt flows through me as I watch him silently shrug off his coat, back turned so he’s still facing away from me.

“Steve?”

I hear the sigh escape from his mouth, he reluctantly turns to face me. Head still turned towards the floor but I don’t miss the bloody graze just above his eyebrow. Gasping softly, I scramble to the edge of the bed, raised on my knees in order to take his head in my hands. Accepting that it’s my turn to inspect his injury.

“What happened?”

His hands hold my wrists, finally meeting my gaze as I look at him with curiosity. What sort of errands leave you with a bloody face? I have my suspicions about where he truly was, however, I want him to admit the truth to me, rather than throwing out false accusations.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I just couldn’t let him get away with what he did to you.” His voice is tainted with humiliation, embarrassed by his actions. Though, I couldn’t be more attracted to him than I am right now.

Sliding my hands to the back of his neck, I’m pulling him down to my face before he can even react to what is happening. My lips are on his, kissing him firmly even if it does cause the cut on my lip to sting. His mouth moves against my own, hands settling comfortably on my waist, still careful not to apply any pressure to the bandaged area. I play with the hair at the nape of his neck and can’t contain the soft whine that leaves my mouth when his tongue flicks over mine with ease.

“Please tell me he looks worse than you.” I ask desperately, chest heaving as I regain some air following the kiss. He nods with a chuckle, a shiver running down his spine as I continue to twirl the hair between my fingers.

“Don’t worry, I took care of him.” He tells me, tentatively pushing my body against the bed, crawling on top of me as though he’s done it one thousand times before. “Now the question is, are you going to let me take care of you?”

Nodding my head eagerly, a bright smile settles on my face as he presses tender kisses to my neck, agonizingly slowly making his way down my chest. As best he can with the sweater still covering my body. One hand tightly holds my hip, the other traces my thigh ever so softly. 

My own hands rest in his brown locks, gripping harder when he sucks or nips at my skin. The feeling arouses me even more so and I’m embarrassed to admit just how much I want Steve.

“Take it off.” I whisper as his hands hesitantly play with the hem of his yellow sweater. Before carefully pulling it over my body, displaying my bandaged and bruised body, though he pays no attention to this. Eyes wide, fixated on my chest and the lack of a bra to cover my breasts. If it wasn’t for the look of lust in his eyes, I’d be covering myself up, self conscious of my appearance.

Steve wastes no time, wrapping his lips around one of my nipples, licking delicately while using a hand to palm the other one softly. A breathy moan escapes my lips and in the brief moment we make eye contact, I feel as though I could cum right then and there. 

As his mouth and one of his hands focus on my breasts, his spare hand reaches my panties. Dragging his fingers over the thin material, teasing, he rubs circles, touch barely there though I’m sure he can feel the growing wet patch. I can feel his hips grinding down onto the bed between my legs, attempting to provide himself with some sort of relief.

Cautiously I push on his shoulders, to which he instantly pulls himself away from me. Fearing he may have done something wrong or that I’ve changed my mind. However, when I push him back against the bed and rid him of his clothes, I don’t miss the boyish grin plastered on his face.

Straddling his hips, I begin to grind myself over his erection, lips catching his in a desperate kiss. It’s messy and wet, neither focused on anything more than the pleasure experienced from our movements. He pants and whines softly, hands toying with my nipples, making me breathless. I can feel my side aching at the movement, yet I don’t care to stop, accepting the pain as a result of my need for the boy beneath me.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask through a string of deep breaths, gazing down at Steve with nothing but passion.

He doesn’t even take his eyes off me as he pulls his bedside drawer open before reaching in and handing me a silver packet. I remove myself from his lap momentarily, yanking my panties down my legs faster than I ever have before. When his boxers are removed, I rip open the little packet, rolling the latex down his length. Before dragging my hand up and down it delicately, resulting in a shaky exhale from Steve.

As I position myself above him, tip grazing over my clit gently, he grabs my wrists, eyes locked on mine. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” I reassure him, grabbing his member and ever so carefully lowering myself onto him.

Gasp slipping from my lips as I take all of him inside of me, never having felt so full in my life. Steve’s fingers are stroking my hips, staring at me with an encouraging smile as I work up the nerve to move slightly. A hesitant lift of my hips before pushing myself back down. As I take more and more, I find myself shocked by how easily he slides in and out of me. Bounces easy and indescribably pleasurable.

Pressing my hands to his chest, I find the perfect rhythm, a combination of bouncing on his length, whilst rocking forwards just a little in order to hit the spot deep inside of me that evokes the most toe curling feeling within me. 

Steve’s eyes are closed, deep groans emitting from his throat as his hands knead my ass softly. Hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and cheeks flushed a deep red, yet he’s still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

Mere seconds later I find myself reaching the boiling point, gripping Steve’s shoulders tightly as I rock myself through quite possibly the most intense orgasm of my life. Collapsing onto his chest with heavy breaths, his weight shifts under me and he begins to thrust up into me. Chasing his own high. The sensitivity becomes too much and I find myself seeing stars as he releases into the condom with a string of obscenities.

Rolling off him reluctantly, I watch as he rids himself of the latex, launching it into the bin at the otherside of the room. Turning to me, he opens his arms, wrapping me in them gently.

“I will never let anybody hurt you, not again.” He mutters into my hair and I’m unsure whether he’s telling me or himself.

“I know Stevie, I trust you.”

[stylesispunk]

TIME CASTS A SPELL ON YOU, BUT YOU WON'T FORGET ME | CHAPTER 2

Joel Miller x f!oc

Chapter 2: And did you say that she loved you?

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summary: Fifteen years ago, amidst the filling of divorce papers and the broken promises of a happily ever after, the world collapsed. Amidst the ruins of cities and the remnants of dreams, Joel's search for his ex-wife began. No matter where he turned, the woman who had once loved him held him captive, a presence he couldn't escape.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: tlou spoilers, angst. no use of y/n

the story's main idea is based on the lyrics from "Silver Springs" by Fleetwood Mac

a/n: Chapter 2 is here. It's way longer than i thought it would be, so I hope you like this chapter please share your thoughts with me (🥺) Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and they spark up the motivation to write. If you have any questions ask me. Happy reading.💌(If you want to want to be added to my taglist you can tell me)

September, 2003

Sometimes in life, there are some catastrophic events in life that leave you speechless.

Joel imagined that spending his first birthday without Emily as his wife would be the only one, but it was night, the world ended, and he was holding his lifeless daughter in his arms. The world had given him no warning, no chance to brace himself for the cataclysm that unfolded in their life. 

In the stillness of the night, he cradled her, she looked so tiny in the middle of this chaos. Grief welled up inside him like a bubble. He whispered her name, a tender and heartbreaking murmur with no answer. It was defeating. 

The loss of Emily was a bitter taste of what was to come, but the loss of Sarah devasted him. 

As he held his lifeless daughter in his arms, he clung to the memories, the fragments of a life that had been filled with love was long gone. He longed for a world where Emily was holding him, where his daughter was still a part of a reality, where their absence wasn’t just an envelope of pictures playing in his head. 

Emily

I had to find Emily

Through the tears that blurred his vision, Joel's thoughts came together into just one purpose. The world might have ended, but he couldn’t let his family’s memory fade completely. He had to find Emily, not just to mend what was broken, but to honor and protect her amidst the chaos. 

With Emily’s face etched in his mind, Joel dove into the unknown, driven by love, loss, and longing for the only person who could make this new world worth living again. 

Without thinking clearly, Joel stood on his heels and walked away from his daughter,

“Joel, wait!” Tommy called after his brother, quickly following after him “Where are you going”?

“To find Em” Joel answered, his voice emotionless.

“No, stop” Tommy advised, trying to keep up with his pace, but Joel kept walking with determination.

“Joel,” Tommy called again “You don’t know if Em-

“Don’t tell me she might be dead”, Joel shouted. He refused to even think about that possibility. He spotted a car. He walked towards it, and once he got to the car’s door, slammed his elbow without feeling any pain. Nothing could compare to what he was feeling inside. 

“Joel, don’t do this”. Tommy was practically shouting at Joel amidst all the chaos of people shouting and running desperately.

“You know her new address, “Joel said without paying attention to Tommy’s pleas. “Take me there or you stay here.” 

 Despite the lack of an answer from Tommy, Joel felt around for the key. 

“Okay! I will!” Tommy shouted, “Just give me the keys.” 

Joel’s body felt relieved for a second, some part of him knowing that Emily was the only chance he had left to keep him sane. Otherwise, the grief tightened in his throat was going to kill him. 

He forced Tommy to drive fast to her new house, the one where she would start writing pages of a new story without him on it. Maybe she was there waiting for him to save her. 

But when he didn’t find her there, neither did her car. His heart shattered, not because he thought she was dead, but because he thought he would never see her face again. 

Our house, the thought crossed his mind.

Maybe Emily had the same idea, he thought. Maybe she went there looking for them. 

And she didn’t even know Sarah had died. 

When he finally arrived back at his house, there were no signs of her there either, and his hopes of having her by his side again crumbled. His heart sunk into his stomach, all the memories of their home hit him like a thousand bricks. The undone dishes, Sarah’s bag by the door, the ring he had placed beside the door a week ago, the one he and Emily shared as a symbol of love. He placed it back on his finger where it truly belonged, then he set off his journey. He knew that the way ahead would be treacherous.

What Joel didn’t know that night, just a few minutes before, Emily was there too. 

15 years later

The night air grew cooler as darkness settled over their campsite. Ellie was fast asleep, her soft snores blending with the night’s hushed melody of crickets and rustling leaves.

And Emily was there.

Despite the earlier confrontation between her and Joel, she had stayed, and a heavy tension lingered in the air. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to break the silence, lifting the weight of the past and the uncertain present.  

Joel finally broke the silence, his voice low and measured. "You should have left," he said, not bothering to meet Emily's eyes.

Emily sighed, the exhaustion of her aching body and the tension of their encounter weighing over her shoulders "Why?” she replied, her voice softened from its earlier harshness. “Do I scare you?”

Joel's jaw clenched, and he finally turned to face her. The moonlight danced across his weathered face, casting long shadows that seemed to mimic his turbulent emotions. 

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

“I wasn’t following you; I swear. I thought you were dead.” She explained “I didn’t even know it was you until- “

“Until you almost shoot me,” he interrupted.

“You don’t understand”, She sighed, defeated.          

Joel's eyes bore into Emily's, demanding an explanation. The moonlight flickered in the depths of his gaze, revealing the anger he felt. 

"Then make me,” he implored.

“I-,” she hesitated before answering, choosing her words carefully, "There are…These men following me”, her shoulders slumping with the weight of the truth. “They want to kill me” she confessed. 

He could see a glimpse of fear in her eyes, and for the first time in the night, he noticed all about her. Despite the passing of time, her face still carried the signs of youth, yet it had matured with the weight of the years. He noticed the bruises on the left side of her face, dark and painful reminders of a story he didn’t know about. 

Joel's guard lowered as he was slightly worried at Emily’s confession "And who did that to you?" he asked, pointing at her face.

Emily looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Them”

Despite the events of their story, the thought of someone hunting her down weighed heavily on him.

Something deep inside him felt responsible for this. If he had kept her with him in the past, she wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

"And why are they after you?" Joel asked, his voice no longer tinged with anger but rather genuine concern.

Emily hesitated once more before responding. "Because I killed their people."

The revelation hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of the world they lived in. Joel knew he had done horrible things to survive, but thinking about Emily doing the same felt like a knife cutting through his heart. 

Emily’s eyes filled with a haunted look. "They left me no choice,” She finally added. 

A tense silence settled between them once again. 

Joel's mind raced as he considered his options. He had Ellie to protect and deliver to the fireflies, but now, unexpectedly, the woman who haunted him was in front of her again. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her on her own.

“And how do I fit into this narrative?” He asked, cautiously.

“You don’t fit into this narrative, Joel” she clarified. “I just crossed paths with you tonight. I’ll go in the morning” 

Joel contemplated Emily's words for a moment. He knew that allowing her to stay was an emotional risk for him. Nevertheless, he refused to let her go. All what they shared in the past, the love that had once bound them, still lingered, and he couldn't simply abandon her for her own. He didn’t have the heart to do it. 

"No," he finally said, his voice stout. " You'll stay with us until we reach the Fireflies. It's not safe out there alone."

“You abandoned me in the past. Why would I trust you now?” she asked, her voice flat.

“Because you don’t have another choice,” he replied,

Emily looked surprised, with a mix of anger, sadness, and resignation dancing in her eyes. She had been through too much to easily trust again.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay... for now."

Silence stretched and hung over them again with unspoken words. 

“Where is Tommy?” she asked, breaking the silence once more.

“I’ve been asking myself the same for the last three weeks,” Joel replied bitterly.

“Typical, is Sarah with him? I wouldn’t blame her."

When Emily met with a defeating silence, her heart broke.   She knew what that silence meant, but she needed to hear the confirmation.

“Oh god,” her voice became brittle "Sarah...”

Joel could only nod, his throat tight with the weight of grief that still clung to him after all these years. Sarah's memory was a constant ache in his heart, and unlike Emily, she would never come back to him.

“When?” she asked, whispering

Joel took a deep breath, his voice strained as he answered, "That same night. There was nothing we could do." He paused a little. “It wasn’t even one of those things. It was a soldier. A man who should have helped us” 

Emily's eyes glistened with tears as she absorbed the heartbreaking truth.

“People are the real monsters, Joel” she whispered, her voice carrying an undertone. 

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the ground; his thoughts consumed by all the events that had happened in his life. He knew Emily was right; it was the people who had become the true monsters. 

Joel didn't reply. Instead, he turned back to watch over Ellie, who was still sleeping soundly. His thoughts were all over the place now. His past caught up with him in the form of the woman of his dreams and now, she was a part of the uncertain future ahead.

Joel woke up to the sound of Ellie’s laugh. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was. Then, the reality hit him. He had fallen asleep once again when he was supposed to keep the watch. The pass of time was noticeable, the lines of fatigue etching across his face, his body ached and he was tired of surviving. 

Pushing aside his exhaustion, Joel forced himself to sit up, rubbing his tired eyes. 

And Emily was still there, she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. 

When Emily noticed that Joel was awake, she turned to him with a small smile. “You’re awake,” she said quietly, her voice softer than the previous night.

Joel just gazed at her, he felt strange at having her again and he wasn’t sure how to navigate this unexpected reunion with Emily. 

Ellie was unfazed by the presence of Emily. They already seemed thick at thieves. 

“I told Emily you had a stick upon your ass last night,” Ellie said. 

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Ellie's comment, and he glanced over at Emily, who seemed amused by the teenager. 

"I'm glad you two are getting along." He said, a little hint of amusement in his tone. 

“We had a good chat while you were sleeping”, Emily replied with a chuckle. 

Joel couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Ellie and Emily getting along so easily. It was like life was showing him the picture of the past in a new form. Giving him the chance to have a purpose again besides sleeping and surviving. 

As the three of them set out together, with Joel leading the way, Emily and Ellie chatted and laughed, sharing different stories, and Joel couldn’t help but feel amused by that. It was rare for him to find satisfaction in these little moments.

“Joel, are Bill and Frank nice?” Ellie asked.

“Frank is,” he answered. 

“Where are we going?” Emily asked, stepping forward to walk alongside Joel.

“To Bill and Frank,” Ellie answered for Joel.

“And who are these people?”

“Good guys,” he said, stout.

Joel and Emily continued to walk side by side, their footsteps echoing along the quiet road. 

“Who is Tess?” Emily asked.

Joel turned his head to look at Emily, 

Damn Ellie, he thought.

His expression grew somber at the mention of Tess. "Tess was my partner," he finally answered, his voice sounded sad. “We trusted each other with our lives. Tess... she was family to me."

Emily could see the anguish in Joel’s eyes as he spoke about Tess. She knew that losing was a wound that never healed. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy inside her, thinking about Joel finding someone else in this world opened a wound she had never fully healed. 

“Did you love her?” she asked the question that lingered in her mind. 

Joel hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice carrying a deep sense of regret.

""Yeah, she did... and I... I couldn’t” 

Emily couldn't help but feel sympathy for Joel, even though she believed he wasn’t capable of loving someone. 

Ellie, walking behind, stepped forward to walk beside them, sensing the tension. 

“How did you get that scar on your head?” Ellie asked Joel.

Joel sighed, exasperated by Ellie's constant questions about him.

“What? Is it something lame?” She questioned, “Like you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs” Joel answered.

“So, what then?” 

“Someone shot at me and missed.”

Emily’s heart sank at that new information.

“See, that’s cool,” Ellie said. “You shoot back?”

“Yeah,” Joel said, shortly.

“You got him?” 

“No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”

Ellie pondered over his words “Cause you suck at shooting or like, in general? 

Joel studied her expression, clearly offended. “In general.”

Then, Ellie looked at Emily. “How did you get those bruises on your face?”

“I fell” she lied to her.

“Lame” Ellie chuckled.

Emily mirrored her expression with a smile. 

They walked for a few more minutes until they came into view of a rusty old building which was once a gas station. 

“Wait here”. She instructed both girls, “I gotta grab some stuff, Tess and I, stashed” 

“Why here?” Ellie asked.

“You ask a lot of damn questions,” he said, clearly exasperated.

“Yes,” she smiled proudly.

Joel opened the door to the building. The interior was as one might expect: dusty shelves that once held snacks and supplies, long since emptied or expired, and a counter where a cashier had once stood. It looked dirtier since the last time he was here. 

“So why did you stash things here?” She continued, but as soon as her eyes looked into the old arcade game, Joel lost her attention. 

While Ellie was over the moon with the discovery, Joel was preoccupied with trying to remember where he had hidden the weapons and supplies that he and Tess had stashed there long ago. His gaze scanned the dimly lit interior, searching for familiar landmarks.

Ellie, not one to let a moment of fun slip away, turned her attention to Joel. "Ellie, Joel forgot where he placed his stuff," Emily said, trying to assist.

Joel was prideful and stubborn, and he didn't appreciate anyone pointing out his shortcomings. "I don't need your help," he retorted, a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

Emily couldn't help but remind him of their tumultuous history. "You know, considering the way you acted the last time we saw each other, you should behave nicer," she suggested a hint of sarcasm in her tone. 

Joel just scoffed.

Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes at Joel's scoff and stepped out of the building. She knew that dealing with Joel's stubbornness wasn't worth the frustration, especially when there were more important things happening.

Once back on the road, Emily didn’t say a word to Joel. Ellie tried to strike up a conversation, but her attempts were met with mostly monosyllabic responses from Joel. Emily, on the other hand, remained silent, lost in her own thoughts.

Joel occasionally glanced at Emily through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought her back into his life after all these years.

He spent half of the years since all this started looking for her, and now that he had her back, he didn’t know how to feel. 

Finally, Ellie broke the silence.

"Why did you get divorced?" she asked, her eyes fixed on Joel as if he was the one to blame.

Emily turned to Joel, an incredulous look in her eyes. "How did you know?" she asked.

“Joel told me,” She said.

Emily glanced at Joel with surprise and annoyance, but she decided to let it go for now. Ellie's curiosity was relentless, and Emily could tell that the teenager was fishing for more details.

She turned her attention back to Ellie and decided to answer the question, even though it wasn't something she enjoyed discussing. "Sometimes, things just don't work out," Emily replied, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "People change” she added, looking briefly at Joel. 

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie, who was good at noticing subtle cues. The unspoken tension between the two adults was palpable, and Ellie sensed that there was more to the story than Emily was letting on.

“That means Joel changed?” she insisted. 

Joel remained silent; his gaze focused on the horizon. 

Emily hesitated, glancing at Joel again. She knew that there were some wounds that time couldn't heal, some scars that ran too deep, but she didn’t reply and that was enough for Ellie to understand. 

"Well," she said with a hint of cheerfulness, "I hope you two can find a way to fix things now. You know, since we're all together."

Joel remained silent, but his expression softened just a fraction. Emily just offered a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Finally, they made it to Bill and Frank's place, a small town gated by a sturdy fence. Emily couldn't help but be awestruck by the sight of the place. It was a little reminder of those small, tight-knit villages from the time before the world had descended into chaos.

The fence surrounding the town was reassuringly tall and well-constructed, a clear sign that these two men knew how to keep their community safe. Emily felt a glimmer of hope as they approached the gate.

“Stay here”, Joel commanded Emily and Ellie before tapping an entry code into the gate's keypad, allowing them to pass through first.

As they walked to Bill and Frank’s house, Emily noticed the change in Joel’s expression when looking at the flowers outside. They were dry. 

He went forward and opened the front door, being extremely cautious. Ellie and Emily followed him close.

"Bill? Frank?" Joel yelled, but there was no response.

Something isn't right.

"You both stay here," he told the girls. "What if they leave?" Ellie inquired before Joel moved.

Joel considered Ellie's question for a moment before responding, but Emily pipped him up.

“They would have told you, right?” she asked.

“Yes.” 

The sound of a door shutting caught their attention.

"Ellie?" Emily called out nervously, her voice echoing through the house.

Joel's jaw tightened as he exchanged a glance with Emily. He gestured for them to follow the sound. There was Ellie, sitting at the table holding a piece of paper that looked like a letter.

“It’s from Bill,” she said to Joel.

Joel sighed, putting away his weapon, all the façade he always showed was crumbling inside him, another grief was hanging over his head. 

“To whomever, but probably Joel,” she began. 

“So they’re dead?” he asked, interrupting her. He needed the confirmation. 

Joel felt a lump in his throat.

“You wanna-?” Ellie offered.

He shook his head. “Go ahead. You do it” 

“August 29, 2023,” Ellie started to read. “If you find this… please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it would probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe-“

Ellie stopped for a moment, amused by the last part, before continuing. 

“Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway… I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends… almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here" 

Joel glanced at Emily, who was paying attention to Ellie.

“We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

Ellie stopped there, not knowing how to continue reading. She looked up at Joel, who had an unreadable expression on his face. He couldn’t save Tess. 

“Stay here,” he instructed, walking towards the front door without hesitation.

Emily, on the other hand, didn’t know what to say or even do at the moment, so she looked at Ellie for answers.

"What do you think we should do, Ellie?" Emily asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ellie looked back at Emily, her eyes meeting Emily's with seriousness. "We do what they wanted Joel to do," Ellie replied, her voice steady. "We keep going.” 

“Emily, can I ask you a question?” Ellie asked.

Emily nodded. 

“What happened between you and Joel?” she asked. “I see the way you look at him, full of resentment, and I also see the way he looks at you. He is conflicted.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, contemplating Ellie’s words. 

"I don’t know what happened", Emily began cautiously. "One day everything was fine, and the next he told me he wanted a divorce.”

“And do you hate him?” Ellie inquired. 

Emily met Ellie's inquisitive gaze with a mixture of emotions. It wasn't an easy question to answer, and Emily wasn't entirely sure of herself.

"I don't hate him," Emily replied honestly. "But I don't think I ever really got over what happened. It hurts, Ellie, and sometimes hurt can turn into resentment.” 

“So why did you stay with us?” 

 Emily sighed, her thoughts and feelings swirling in the complicated mix of emotions inside her brain.

"Because he asked?” she said, not completely sure about her answers.

Ellie seemed to understand the mix of emotions inside Emily’s head.

“Please, promise me one thing,” Ellie said. “Promise me you will stay.”

“I know if I don’t make you promise me this, you will run and I don’t want that. I want you to stay.”

 "Because I believe you can bring out the best in him, and in me," Ellie said genuinely. "Joel might not admit it, but I think he needs you."

"I promise I'll stay," Emily affirmed with sincerity.

Ellie's returning smile radiated hope, a small glimmer in a world often shrouded in darkness.

"And also, promise me you won't lie to me anymore," Ellie said. 

Emily was momentarily speechless, her surprise evident on her face.

"I know you didn't fall," Ellie continued, her voice filled with conviction. "And whoever did this to you, they won't touch you again."

"I promise I won't lie to you," Emily said with sincerity.

She appreciated Ellie's trust and the bond that was slowly forming between them.

The two of them hugged, and the beginning of a friendship between them started to bloom.

For the first time in days, Emily felt a sense of fleeting tranquility. The sound of the running water drowned out the constant hum of worry that had plagued her thoughts. She reached for a bar of soap and began to scrub away the dirt, sweat, and blood from her body. 

When Emily turned off the shower, she reached out to wipe away the steam off the mirror, revealing a reflection she had avoided for days. This had been the first time that she had seen her face. Her hair was greasy and dirty. The bags under her eyes were dark circles reflecting the sleepless nights she had been through during the last week, the dirt all over her face, and the bruises on her cheeks, a reminder that she was being hunted. 

She reached for the scissors she had found tucked away in one of the cabinets. And like in the old days, when cutting your hair symbolized a new beginning and embraced change. Emily needed to do the same. Carefully, she began to snip away at her tangled locks. Strands of hair fell to the floor, and with each cut, she felt a sense of liberation, each cut was a way to regain a sense of control over her own self. 

Once she finished, Emily stared at her reflection again, and the tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Strangely, the bruises on her cheek seemed less pronounced.

Freshly out of the bathroom, clean, and with new clothes, Emily went down the stairs to reunite with Joel and Ellie. As she approached the living room, she could hear the low hum of conversation between Joel and Ellie. Once she entered the room, Emily was met with curious glances from both of them.

A mischievous grin played on Ellie’s lips. "Doesn’t she look pretty, Joel? she teased.

Joel was momentarily stunned, struggling to form coherent thoughts at the sight of Emily's transformed appearance.

Joel finally found his voice and managed to say, "You look...different." 

Ellie couldn't resist pushing her teasing nature further. "Now that we're all clean and looking pretty, especially you two, could you get married again?"

“I’ll pass on that for now," Emily replied.

Joel stepped forward and whispered, “Is there any reason for this?”

“They are following a lonely woman with long hair” she answered, her tone matter-of-fact.

For Joel, that reasoning made sense, so he nodded in understanding. He couldn't help but notice the ring hanging from her neck—it was their wedding band. However, he chose not to say anything. Deep down, he knew Emily was using him to free herself from the danger she was facing. He knew she didn’t love him anymore, did she?

“We are good to go”, Joel announced.

Ellie and Emily gathered their belongings, and the three of them went out of the house. They placed their things inside the truck. 

“You should take the front,” Ellie suggested to Emily. “You two have a lot to catch up.” 

Ellie jumped to the back seat, leaving Emily with no option but to sit beside Joel in the front. As she looked at Ellie through the mirror, a broad grin spread across the teen's face.  

Joel reached over Emily and pulled the belt over her body. “Seatbelt,” Joel said.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat as Joel reached for the seatbelt. It was a habit he had when he used to drive her to her work. This was the closest they had been in fifteen years, and their eyes locked for a few seconds, but Emily quickly dropped her gaze to her fidgeting fingers. 

Joel started up the truck as Emily looked for something to distract herself from his presence.

“What- put it back,” Joel said “Emily.”

She held something up to show Joel. 

“This is music,” she said, popping on the cassette tape and hitting play.

“Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow?

Shatter with words, impossible to follow”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat for the second time in the last minutes, and when she was about to skip the song, Joel hit her hand. 

“No, leave it” he smirked. 

What a turn of events, he thought. 

“This is good,” Joel said as he drove “Stevie Nicks. Do you know Stevie Nicks, Ellie? 

“You know I don’t” Ellie answered, rolling her eyes.

“I search only for something I can't see

I have my own life.

And I am stronger than you know.”

Emily smiled at Ellie through the mirror, before the hurt of the past washed over her once again. The song was the one playing in the background the night she and Joel met.

December, 31st, 1999 

It had been hours since the party started. People around were expectantly waiting for the countdown for the new year, and the couples were already making their way to the dancing floor. There was something magical about finding someone in a moment like this, where the hopes of starting a new chapter were there. 

But not everyone had someone to rely on.

Joel stood there, slightly uncomfortable about being brought there by Tommy against his will. Meanwhile, his younger brother was having the time of his life flirting with a blonde on the dancing floor. He was nursing a drink in the bar, losing himself in the music. Social gatherings like this weren’t his scene.

On the other side of the room, there was Emily moving gracefully through the crowd. She was clearly enjoying her time with her friends, but something about her being the single friend made her slightly melancholic. Especially when the melody in the background was drawing the couples together, swaying to the melody of Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks. Emily couldn’t help but yearn for a connection like that of her own. 

“But I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door

Still I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won't be walking out the door”

Emily couldn't shake off the feeling of longing that settled inside her, so she decided to take a break from the dance floor and headed towards the bar. Her friends were lost in their own worlds while dancing with their own partners, leaving her to wander alone around the party. 

As Emily headed towards the bar, lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings until it was too late. She bumped into a man, and her heart skipped a beat as she stumbled slightly. Before she could fall, the man in front of her wrapped his strong arms around her, steadying her.

It was Joel, a handsome stranger who took her breath away. He was surprised but not displeased. Emily met his gaze, her eyes filled with embarrassment while they stood there gazing at each other. 

“Lovers forever, face to face

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me, I need you today”

“I’m Joel,” he introduced himself, raising his hand for her to take it. His lips curled into a smirk.

 "Emily," she replied with a soft smile, reaching out to take his hand.

At that moment, the world around them faded away. Their unexpected encounter was the beginning of something neither of them had expected to find that night. 

Now

Once Joel pressed the remote, the gate opened for them to drive out of the momentary tranquility of this place. Emily cast a glance at Joel, and it felt like a scene from an old film she had watched before. Joel behind the wheel, driving her everywhere because they used to be attached to their hips, but now they were two strangers with a past in common. 

Emily knew Joel was using her to fill the void Tess had left, 

Joel knew Emily was using him to escape her fate, 

They were using each other, weren’t they?

As they drove into the new day ahead, the soft melody of music played in the background, and the sun’s warm rays welcomed them back onto the road. The route ahead was uncertain, but they had no choice but to learn how to depend on each other again.

“The first time I saw you

I knew with you to light my nights

Somehow, I would get by

Lovers forever, face to face

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me, I need you today”

tags: @joeldjarin @catchallfangirl

[starlightsearches]

Congratulations on your huge milestone!!! 🥳

I have to go with Track 5: Landslide - I love me some Fleetwood Mac and I also love me some angst.

Can I request it be for Steve Harrington? And no prompt - take the reigns 🥰

-@superblysubpar

Stay the Night

Track 5: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac - Give me a character and an angst prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

thanks for the request and the congratulations, bestie! i hope you enjoy 🥰

Fuckboy! Steve x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, discussions of a sexual relationship but no actual sex, mentions of drinking, no happy ending, mentions of potential sexual assault + just generally creepy behavior towards the reader, language, and I think that's it! Let me know what you think my loves uwu

There are rules when you're fucking Steve Harrington.

You can't acknowledge him at school. No words or waves or even longing looks if people are around. He gets all sulky, though, if you're not paying attention to him when he joins you somewhere private—like the back tables in the library where nobody goes.

He'll pout at you with big eyes, stroke his fingers up the inside of your thigh when you're trying to study and then he'll smile like you're his favorite person in the world. Saying shit like we won't get caught, sweetheart, promise, or need you so bad, please, just this once.

That always ends the same way.

You can go to his house when his parents are gone, but he'll never go to yours. Steve will fuck you in the back of his car any night you can manage to sneak out, but he'll only wait twenty minutes at the most.

He gets quiet if you mention any of the girls you see him with. He gets loud if he thinks other guys might be looking at you.

Steve likes it when you pull on his hair when he's between your legs, when you say no the first few times he tries something, when you cry while he's fucking into you with those long, slow strokes.

He doesn't want you to leave marks on him. He doesn't want you to cover up the marks he leaves on you.

Steve won’t let you stay the night, but you can't leave right away. You gotta let him nuzzle into your neck and kiss at your skin with his soft pink pout and he doesn't want to know about it if you feel like crying.

And, most important of all, Steve does not want anybody to think you might be together.

You feel stupid, walking up the car-lined street with your book bag slung over your shoulder. The party's just up the road, loud enough you can hear the music and the sounds of laughter from where you parked a couple blocks away.

Steve's house is lit from every window when you catch a glimpse through the trees, people poured across the lawn, blissful and unaware, just happy to be young and beautiful and drunk.

It's so obvious you shouldn't be here. That you don't belong here. But Steve called, and you answered. And you're too stupid to stay away.

The inside of the house is ripe with the smell of beer, sweaty condensation rolling down the windows. There's more bodies inside, packed tight in all the spaces you're used to seeing empty. Nobody looks in your direction. They don't even feel it when you try to push past.

Steve's not in the living room, or the kitchen, or the yard. He's not half naked in the pool or doing keg stands surrounded by a chanting crowd or making out with anybody in the far corners of the room.

You push up against a wall, trying to keep anybody from noticing you, chewing at your lip. Maybe you should leave. You take a step in that direction, but the way is blocked. You're left face to chest with an ugly striped polo.

Fuck.

"Didn't think I'd see you here, sweetheart. Who sent you the invite?"

Tommy H. has a smile that always makes you sick to your stomach. The way his eyes rake over you—like he's hungry and torturing you is the only thing that can satisfy—the little raise of his brows every time he makes you go quiet.

He steps closer, caging you in with a casual arm as he tilts his head to the side, considering the easiest way to swallow you whole.

"I'm looking for Steve—"

Your back thumps against the wall, and you remember that Tommy doesn't know how many times Steve has promised to beat the shit out of his best friend for looking at you, for cat-calling down the hallways, for all those shitty remarks he's scrawled on the bathroom walls with your name attached.

Those were just words. A stage promise, a kind of roleplay Steve slipped into you any time he wanted to repay you for swallowing his cum.

"—Harrington," you finish, in a weak attempt to save yourself, "this is his house, right?"

Tommy cocks a brow, but he nods.

"I have his homework. The paper for Mrs. Click's class."

You pat your bag, even though there's no paper in there. Steve came up with the excuse the second or third time he yanked you into the girl's bathroom after the bell rang for first period. Just in case anybody saw. This is the only time you've had to use it.

Tommy rakes his tongue over his chapped bottom lip, and your nails bite into your palms. You've got to count to keep your breath steady, to keep your vision from going white at the edges with fear of what he might do next—push you against the wall or laugh at you or drag you with a hand over your mouth somewhere nobody would hear you scream.

But he just steps back, stretching out his shoulders. He must be bored of you. For now.

"Harrington's upstairs. You might wanna knock first, before opening any doors, though."

Tommy let's you slide past, leaving just enough room you've got to brush up against him. You're at the base of the stairs when he calls out, loud enough you can hear him over the music.

"Maybe I'll join you later," Tommy says, and he waits until you look back at him to jack off an imaginary dick, just to emphasize his point.

You run the rest of the way. No looking back.

It's quiet on your side of Steve's door, the sounds of the party a thousand miles away from where you stand, letting your fingers just rest on the handle. Thinking about what Tommy said.

Whatever. If Steve had a girl in there with him, then maybe you could go home. Maybe you'd finally have a reason to be so angry with him all the time.

You push your way inside, into the darkness that your eyes don't adjust to right away. Steve's bed ripples, the covers peeling back from the head of his bed. His smile gleams in the dim slats of light from the window.

"Baby," he coos loudly, holding onto that e sound at the end until he's almost shouting.

He only calls you baby when he's drunk. You shut the door behind you quick enough there's no chance the partiers downstairs could've heard it.

There's nobody else in Steve's bed. No other girls—besides you—when you join him on the mattress, brushing a few hairs from his forehead until you can actually see his eyes, big and brown and looking up at you like you're golden.

He pushes his head into your hand, cat-like, begging to be petted, sneaking an arm around your waist. And the Steve you're used to is already pushy, but it's even worse when he's wasted. You literally have no choice but to do what he wants, yanking you down until you're laying beside him, nose to nose, sharing the same pillow.

"Everybody's being so loud," Steve mumbles, wearing a deep frown, "I just wanted to sleep."

"Not in a party mood?" you ask with a laugh that comes out just a little sad.

Steve sighs, flopping onto his back and dragging you with him. "Tommy's idea. Wish they'd all go home."

Fuck, he's cute—and his body is so warm against yours, holding you like it's what his arms were made for.

You shut your eyes tight and try not to think about a time before you realized he didn't want you the way you wanted him to, when you thought you could be with him like this whenever.

But this isn't the real Steve.

He's not going to walk down the halls with his hand in your back pocket. Or look for you in the stands at his basketball games. He won't take you to the movies just to make out with you in the back row, won't smile like he's showing off when people see you together. You won't have prom pictures with Steve that you look at years from now. You won't have anything to look back on that'll make you smile.

You swallow down the pit in your stomach, wiggling in his grasp.

"I should go."

Steve just grips at you tighter. "No, baby. Stay."

"It's late, Steve. I've gotta go home."

He hums his dissent, rolls over until he's squishing you into the mattress. His big eyes are wet and shiny when they meet yours.

"Just tonight, okay? Don't— don't wanna be alone."

Fuck. You'd end up in your grave before you learned how to say no to Steve Harrington.

He knows it, too—you know he does—because without you saying a word, Steve rolls off you, and you don't try to leave.

"You're too good for me," he whispers, fingers twining in yours, "did you know that?"

There's tears wetting the pillow you rest your head on. Steve's room is getting blurry.

"Yeah, Steve. I know."

He doesn't say another word, and you don't want him to. Laying on his bed like a corpse beside him, listening to the way his breathing grows slower, calmer. The grip of Steve's fingers loosens, and when you pull your hand from his and all he gives you is a grunt, you know he's asleep.

You slip out of the door before he has the chance to wake up. You hope it'll be the last time.

[acesofspadess]

Avocados...

a/n: its the big three...

summary: Louis ends up talking about his relationship with you and avocados

The news had been out for a few months now that you, Louis, Niall and Harry were in a committed relationship. And while it wasn't exactly news to your fans who had predicted it since you had all met during the One Direction days, people had opinions they felt had to be heard. You four already kept your personal lives to yourselves, but the occasional ‘my girlfriend’ or ‘my boyfriend’ would present itself in interviews or shows.

Louis was at LADbible for a day of interviews  and was currently doing a snack war.

“You know i feel really bad for saying this because i actually really fucking hate baked beans.” He looked up at the crew in front of him, seeing their faces. “I must be one of the only men in England- or only person in England that hates baked beans, yeah.” He brought the plate to his side listening to Becky, a crew member, try and give him the easiest way to eat it. 

“Go on, let me.” he flipped his eyesight to the other bowl. “And what have we got here? What's this?” he put down the fork before switching back to the beans. “I'll come to this in a sec shall? Right. Oh, i fucking hate beans, do you know what? For you lot, though, I will give it a go. Oh, H will never let me live this down.” He sprinkled some cheese on top, completely missing his mention of one of his significant others. “It must be fifteen years since I've had some beans.”

He listened to Becky explain what was in the bowls, apologizing for not explaining himself. “I don't know, they're just weird.” was his response to why he didn't like it. He took the smallest bite he could and chewed with a pained expression. “Oh, fucking awful, man. Oh that's gross, man.” he shook his head hoping that would diminish the taste from his mouth.

“Right, mac and cheese, fucking staple.” he moved onto the bowl of pasta after taking a drink to rid the taste of beans from his mouth. “Again ‘american’ right? Cause it looks Italian to me.” he took a hefty bite and relaxed in his chair. “Banging though. I had a lot of mac and cheese, or a lot of cheesy pasta, growing up as a kid. To be fair, for my little lad Freddie, my girlfriend - who is half Italian, makes him a lot of cheesy pasta, so… I'd have to go with that.”

“Is there anything else she makes for him? Or is that like the staple?” Becky asked out of pure curiosity.

“My fans are gonna hate me for this, she makes a lot of food from her Trinidad side and one thing we always have in the house is avocados, Freddie loves it when she makes them. She makes those and - i know it's not the right wording but like candied bananas. Those are really good. Actually-”

He took out his phone from his pocket and tapped a few buttons before the facetime ringing was heard. “I really hope she answers otherwise that would be-” he cocked his head with a laugh and watched as the call connected, your beautiful face popping up on the screen.

“Hey love.” a smile so big was plastered on his face as he saw you. “Hey Lou. I thought you were filming still?” your washed Trini accent was heard through the phone, confusion laced within. “I am,” he walked in a circle to show you and laughed. “I don't think you should be on your phone in the middle of an interview, Lou.”

“No I'm not. I wanted to ask you a question though.” The phone was now visible for the cameras to see and they could see you cock your head with questions. “Alright then.” 

“When you make avocados for us you make like this candied banana but i forgot what they're called and i don't want to keep saying ‘candy bananas’ like a wanker.”

Your laugh as well as others was heard and he just shook his head at you. “Its fried plantains Lou. and you can have them sweet or salty. Just like avos.” he was mesmerized with the way you spoke about things from your culture, “Thank you love.”

“Was that it?” you asked, adjusting your sunglasses as you walked out of the shade. “What are you doing and who are you with?” he asked, remembering the second laugh he heard. “I'm with Ni right now. We just went out to this little cafe before going back to the studio where H and Freddie are.” you showed him Niall who made a silly face at lou. “Alright love, I will call you when I'm done. Love you both.” 

Niall who was no longer in frame was heard shouting an ‘ i love you’ back and you giggled. “I love you Lou.”

“Give my love to H and Freddie will you?”

“Of course Lou.”

“Alright , alright, I'll see you later.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And as he went to hang up Niall's second ‘love you’ was briefly heard. “Right, fried plantains and ‘avos’ as my girlfriend says. The only way I eat them. Fucking avocados man.”

[whatislovevavy]

II. Dogfight Football and Pool Tables

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x afab!pilot!reader 

Word Count: 5.7k

Series Summary: Mustang and Hangman have had sexual tension since the night they met at the Hard Deck at the start of a high-risk assignment. Each interaction further solidifies your callsign in the best ways. 

Warnings: 

Series overall: Sexual tension, swearing, smitten and sexually frustrated Hangman, swearing, and mildly insecure and shy reader, smut; p in v, oral (fem + male) receiving, dirty talk, dom!Jake, hint of sub!Jake

Author’s note: Hopefully you guys liked part I :) I did my best to make the reader’s physical attributes as ambiguous as possible when it came to descriptions to make it more inclusive to the reader. I want to get better at this so please feel free to leave constructive criticism or something you thought was strong or weak with the piece. Please be kind with criticisms. I'm sensitive. I’d like to thank @call-sign-jinx and @sebsxphia for betaing (?) each part of this fic, they’re both really sweet and write some good shit on their blogs, so be sure to check them out :)

I will be going through my followers and accounts that leave notes, especially on parts of this story that has smut, and if the blog doesn’t have an age on it, the blog will be blocked. 

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

These characters, except for Mustang, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Happy reading :)

—

Jake couldn’t help but listen to your voice through the radio every time he sat with his teammates in the lounge waiting for his turn in the sky. You cared so much about everyone, both in and out of the cockpit; always checking in, encouraging others on the team, and exchanging playful quips. And it didn’t help that you were one of the best pilots he’d seen, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. If he had to pick anyone flying a single seater that was a serious contender for team leader, it was you. The plane was merely an extension of your own body when you were in the sky, coming the closest of the group to getting Maverick out on the first day. 

Sure, you and Jake bickered, and he did everything in his power to rile you up and get under your nerves, but that was the only real contact he got. 

You had started to rub off on him, enough for Coyote to notice. Jake made him promise he wouldn’t tell a soul, as he was incessantly mocked and teased when he returned to his dorm at the end of the day. 

Hangman found himself perfectly tuned into anything that related to you in conversations; all info immediately became engraved in his memory. Whether it was stories about growing up with wild horses and the feisty blue roan mustang mare you trained during your teen years, Sweet Girl, whom you loved endlessly; or the time you accidentally flashed everyone at a Maryland beach when you were 23; or even the fact you didn’t like ketchup because it was too sweet and that your all-time favorite songs were by Fleetwood Mac and John Denver, but your favorite farm chore songs were by Doja Cat, Nicki Minaj, and Megan thee Stallion; starting as a form of rebellion against your parents but growing into adoration. 

All the little things that made up who you were.  

He secretly cherished the moments he got to see you and hear your soft voice, and found himself missing your signature lavender scent and close proximity when you were gone. 

Hangman would never admit to being jealous, but he was a bit jealous: he didn’t get to do more with you than just teasing and verbal jabs, and while it was fun riling you up, a deep part of him that he was still trying to comprehend wanted to get to know you on a more personal level. 

He fantasized for something like the night you met to happen again; he hadn’t come close to witnessing what he got a taste of that first evening. No matter his jabs or nicknames that secretly started to grow on you.  

Of course, a deep part of him enjoyed this chase but a part of him wanted to finally lay claim to your heart. 

His episode with Rooster the day before hadn't helped to ease such tensions and the confrontation only soured his shared glances with Mustang. Jake understood why the glances had soured, but frankly, he didn’t know why he did it.  Maybe it had to do with being jealous of the sweet attention you gave Rooster and that he’d never had to put this much effort into being with a woman. 

That early evening when Rooster opened his front door, he didn’t see Hangman standing before him. A completely different person must have been standing at his door with matching green eyes and tanned skin, wearing a look of remorse that he would never associate with Hangman. Rooster initially wanted to slam the door in his face and go back to bed, but the way Jake’s eyes held something so foreign to his character tugged at his brain to hear him out.

Bradley wasn’t blind, he saw the way Jake looked at you when you weren’t looking and even when you were with him and Natasha. He saw the subtle differences in his demeanor when you were around and how you affected him, making him more tolerable without even realizing it.

He silently realized that what stood before him was your unintentional doing, as Jake stood there and owned up to what had been said. 

Bradshaw accepted his apology, closing the door as Jake left. He shook his head, quietly laughing to himself that someone who had only known Jake for 3 weeks was the only person he knew who had made Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin genuinely apologize. He couldn’t wait to tell Phoenix.

—

Maverick had told them to meet on the beach behind the Hard Deck at 9 am sharp for dogfight football.

Tensions were high. No one had successfully completed the mission training parameters, and the set date was a mere week away.

As the game started, you were a bit hesitant to show your competitive side. Maybe it was because you liked seeing people underestimate you and proving them wrong at the 'perfect moment'. You spent your whole life doing that, so it was only natural you took joy in it. Your competitive spirit was something akin to a secret weapon; to be used with full force to deal lethal damage.

Once you let it out around the whole group, it wasn't going back into hiding anytime soon. Rooster and Phoenix were well aware as they knew you from previous stations, and Bob had heard stories, but the rest were left with only recollections. Encouragements from Phoenix got you to bring it out in small doses and cheers from your teammates let it flow in full force. And maybe also the prospect of giving Hangman a run for his money contributed its fair share.

Under the scorching San Diego sun, Jake “Hangman” Seresin truly understood your callsign. Mustang. It encapsulated who you were to the core into an eight-letter word that made some none the wiser, himself included.

He felt something foreign bloom deep in his soul at the realization. Your presence invaded his senses and struck a chord deep inside him. You looked beautiful, free, wild, and completely forged by the land you occupied: The Navy. Your eyes were sharp, full of excitement, adrenaline, and pure competitive determination. Hair that was coming loose from your ponytail, revealing bangs that framed your face beautifully. Skin gleaming in the San Diego sun, chest heaving from exertion, sweat misting your collarbones, cleavage, and gliding down your stomach and thighs. 

A complete 180° from your shy, flustered demeanor the moment you had met eyes. 

If someone didn't know you worked with wild horses as a teenager, they wouldn't believe you did. You were a force to be reckoned with and he found himself more addicted to that realization by the second. A navy blue sports bra framed your chest tastefully. He tried not to divert his attention from the game to your beautiful breasts for too long. He needed to prevent drawing suspicion from his ever-observant teammates and developing a precarious situation in his lower half that only the frigid San Diego waters could cure. His Ray-Bans helped to hide where his gaze landed on the opposing team, but it wasn't foolproof.

The shrill sound of a whistle broke him away from his thoughts. Commands and playful taunts were being thrown back and forth. Payback passed the football to Harvard who made his way down the makeshift field of Maverick's exercise. Hangman ran the opposite side of him to provide an opening in case Phoenix or Rooster shut him down. Harvard got cornered and passed the football to him. It felt like slow motion, he felt the football graze his fingertips but was snatched away by a smaller frame before he could fully grasp it. He heard the distinct whoops and cheers of Rooster and Phoenix as you made your way down the beach to score a touchdown. You were unstoppable. No one could touch you. You were like a wild stallion swallowing the land beneath you, feet thundering in the wet sand, hair blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. It was unfair for someone to look as beautiful and free as you did at the moment. You made it to the end zone with a sliding stop and did a shoulder shimmy with your tongue stuck out with a full-blown smile. If he hadn’t developed a hard-on before, he was starting to now. You confidently made your way back to your team, met with cheers and high fives. He was frozen in the sand near the opposite end zone. From the moment you stole the ball to your full-blown smile; he was still, staring at her. He knew he could have chased after you and tackled you but didn't. He would get shit for it. 

"Bagman, you getting soft?", Harvard teased him.

"In your dreams", Hangman bit back, tinged with his Texan drawl. His defensiveness gave him away but Harvard didn't dare push him. Hangman had a reputation to keep up. Of being untouchable, the best of the best, and, most importantly, that he didn't need anyone to help him get the job done. He left Harvard and confidently strutted back to his position in the lineup at the start of the next round. His thoughts were tinged with a mild sense of worry; if Harvard noticed his state then the others may have as well. This was the last round. His team was down by 1 point. He needed to get his head together.

He watched you line up behind Phoenix. "You ready Mustang?", Phoenix called.

"You know it, Phe"

"You're not gonna get through us so easily this time, Mustang", Hangman taunted.

"Don't worry Ken-doll, I'm not too worried about you. If it's anything like how you've been playing lately, I should be fine ", shooting him a wink.

Your remark was met with “oohs”, sizzling noises, and Rooster asking if he was gonna take that.

Hangman's jaw tensed and his face wore a smirk, "Whatever Mustang, put your money where your mouth is, and let's get this round started" he shot back. He mentally kicked himself for not coming back with a better comeback, but he wasn't used to seeing this side of her.

Hondo blew the whistle and with expert precision, the ball was passed into your awaiting hands. Pushing yourself against the receding sand into a sprint, your bright eyes watching for an open teammate. You were about to pass to Halo when you felt a pair of large, strong hands grasp your waist and tackle you to the beach. You fell down with a groan and weight on top of you. The face of your tackler obscured by the sun, you squinted your eyes. You were met with a pair of green eyes and a soft, muscular body on top of her. Hangman. Your cheeks and neck started to heat up and prayed he wouldn't notice and be disguised by the heat. You still had the football in your grasp so it didn't count as a turnover. You could still win the game. Why hadn't he done anything? He could have easily grabbed the ball and run with it; instead, he just stared at you. Anyone would admit, he was easy on the eyes: strong jaw, sun-kissed skin, sun-bleached sandy blond hair, washboard abs, and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen. It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about him in the depths of the night alone in your room on base. You felt the initial feelings of nerves you experienced start to develop but quickly extinguished it. You let yourself admire him in his state of undress for a moment, but you had a game to win. You weren't going to let some Texan stud who hit on you ruin this for you, you were raised better than that. Besides, you hadn't found yourself being this competitive in a while and were enjoying the rush it gave you.

Instinctively, you swiveled your hips and turned Hangman on his back. He looked breathless, eyes darkening under the shadow of you, as he let out an audible shaky breath. You quickly rose up off his abdomen and started sprinting, football held tightly to your chest. Hangman was still in the sand scrambling to get up and hide his developing problem, by the time you were close to the end zone with Fanboy and Harvard hot on your tail. You held them off and made the winning score. Your face was marked by the same victorious smile Hangman couldn't get enough of as cheers and whoops left your soft lips. You were met with high fives and let out a yelp as you were lifted onto rooster’s shoulders as your teammates chanted your name, all while Hangman was met with hushed chuckles from those who saw Mustang's hip swivel move and a "what the fuck was that Hang?" Great. 

What was wrong with him? He'd never let someone get in his head, much less twice in a period of 5 minutes. 

As the effect of the victory died down, his teammates, including Mustang, headed into the hard deck for refreshments, he overlooked Phoenix and Rooster talking to each other in hushed whispers and sneaking glances at him every few minutes with mischievous smirks on their faces.

"Bagman, you seemed off your game today. The fact that you're not the best at everything getting to you?" Phoenix taunted as she made her way over and crossed her arms across her chest.

Hangman flipped her off and rolled his eyes, "the damn sun was in my eyes"

"Oh, was the sun in your eyes when you were on top of Mustang? Or when you were eye fucking her during the lineup, where the sun was behind you?"

She stated with an amused expression and widening smirk, having unexpectedly exposed him to anyone close enough to hear their conversation. Rooster joined the two, hearing the end of the interaction, "she's got you there Bagman", wearing a smirk and amused gleam in his eyes.

Hangman composed himself, "I wasn't eye fucking her, I was merely...inspectin' the competition,” shrugging, clearing his throat.

Phoenix and Rooster let out snorts and amused chuckles.

"That's such bullshit man and you know it, anyone with eyes could see what you were doing".

“It’s true”, Coyote added as he passed by with a knowing look in his eyes, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Ya know what? Fuck you guys, I don't have to explain myself to y'all", agitated, Hangman bit back before grabbing his stuff and storming away to the Hard Deck.

He could hear their chuckles and “damn, he has it bad. Wait till he sees her play pool" comments but didn't dare turn around. He tried his damnedest to keep up his facade of complete confidence and indifference towards you, swaggering into the Hard Deck.

He was met with a wave of refreshing AC and an empty bar. Not surprising since it was well before happy hour, but odd since he didn't spot any of his teammates that migrated in. He called out for Penny; no answer. His teammates didn't respond either. He was about to leave when he heard a back door creak. You came out, occupied by your phone, sporting a low-cut rodeo t-shirt and blue jean shorts. You looked around for Halo that promised to wait for you but were only met by Hangman's appreciative gaze. You were taken aback but recovered with a smile and small wave. He returned the favor. 

"Do you know where the others went? I was supposed to catch a ride with Halo back to base".

"You know I didn't see anybody come in. I can give you a ride home if that's what you need sweetheart," giving you the same panty-dropper grin that ensnared you the moment you’d met. This had only been the second time in 2 weeks he could get some real alone time with you, and he wasn't going to waste a second.

You blushed at his endearment, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Jake...."

He loved it when you called him Jake. It was a first; he wanted more of it.

"Anytime darling, I'd always be eager to satisfy your needs," he said with a wink, "but first, I wanna experience that pool game of yours," He said turning towards the pool table area and sporting a wolfish grin. 

You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle on the Hard Deck floor, watching his toned arms flex as he took down two pool sticks.

He turned back to you, basking in the effect he still had on you. You had serious game and he wanted to pull that out of you, just for his eyes to see this time.

"Don't get shy on me now, sweets, you had some pretty serious game out there today" he said while leaning on the pool table, attention occupied with polishing both pool sticks with chalk.

You spent an embarrassing amount of time admiring his golden, nimble, strong fingers working the chalk cube over the thin tip. He could have broken it off if he wanted to. You wanted him to use his fingers in more fulfilling ways.

He met your glazed-over eyes and gave the same panty-dropper smile he always had at the realization of where your attention was focused. It was the same one he gave you the night you met him and across the room during training debriefs. Rooster and Phoenix observed these moments and were able to put two and two together. You were teased incessantly, but also warned of his whorish ways by the pair during their hangouts in the dorm you shared with Phoenix.  

You quickly diverted your attention back to him and made your way to the pool table, reaching out to grasp the pool stick, grazing your fingers against his in the process. You met his playful, mirth-filled eyes and shifted your focus to racking up the pool balls. You knew you wouldn't be able to handle watching his dexterous fingers work anymore and needed a small outlet for your pent-up nervous energy and simmering sexual frustration. 

Your bent frame over the pool table gave Jake the perfect view of your jean shorts riding up and revealing the tasteful curve of your ass. You heard him let out a low hitch in his breath, smirking to yourself. You were starting to gain back your composure, turning the heat up on the brewing competitiveness inside yourself. You were good at pool, winning some tournaments around your hometown. You even beat Coyote, Payback, and Phoenix once. Your dad and older brother taught you the game, as well as to never let emotions get in the way of winning, but that was proving difficult to follow. 

He saw a distinguishable shift in your demeanor as you asked if he wanted to go first.

"Ladies first", admiring your reignited confidence.

You lined up the starting shot, feeling his watchful eyes on you. With a resounding clang, the balls were scattered. 3 solids into 3 pockets at the opposite end. You rose to your full posture with a small smile.

"Your turn Bagman".

Jake was pretty sure he fell in love at that moment. There you were; as clear a difference as Jekyll from Hyde.

He approached where you were at the table, " that's Hangman or Jake to you, princess". His tone was low, hearing your breath hitch at the new endearment, making eye contact with you as he shot 2 stripes in. Smirking, he rose up and lined up his next shot, proud of each little hitched breath or blush he pulled from you.  He made a bolded and underlined mental note to call you “princess” in these moments more often. 

You were settled right across from him, directly in his line of sight. You leaned down giving him a tasteful glimpse of your cleavage as you watched his strong arms carry out his concentration. 

His olive green eyes met yours, hiding lust in their depths as they trailed down to your chest, a black lacy trim peaking through. 

"Ya know maybe your right, I should find something else to call you. Especially since ‘Bagman’ would be more fitting if you actually helped your team win today, maybe with bagging a point or even a touchdown." You said with a playful gleam in your eye.

Your statement and teasing met his senses the moment he pushed the rod forward. His trajectory off, failing to pocket a stripped ball.

He rose up, jaw tense, and met with a smirk. You were playing with him, taunting him like a wild stallion with a green ranch hand. 

"Yeah well, sweets, I was a little distracted, so hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me, the sun being in my eyes and all."

"Mhm, definitely the sun's fault. Was it the sun's fault when you were on top of me?", you said as you lined up your shot. 1 solid into a pocket, 4 more left.

You leaned against your pool stick, holding back a laugh at his speechless face. Hangman speechless? That was a sight.

"Well, darling... you see...", he tried to muster the words, much to your amusement. Clearly, you were keen on observing him. 

"It's ok, you could say the sun was in my eyes too", you interrupted coquettishly as you raked your eyes up his frame, admiring his physique in his tight-fitting athletic shirt.

" I don't mind being admired by beautiful women, especially women who can go toe to toe with me", he said smirking, trying to regain some semblance of control as he watched you line up and sink your 3rd hit of the afternoon.

Heat rose to your cheeks, remembering his forwardness the first night they met and his face when you swiveled your hips to get on top of him. You only had 3 balls left.

“It seems like you just have a thing for women who can beat you. You ever think that you just might have a competency kink?” you asked amusedly, eyes still purposely preoccupied with your shot. 

He smirked, he just fucking might, admiring the way your muscular back arched to line up your shot, your eyes sharp, and full of determination. 

“Ya know I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart, that little move you did back there was something else... In fact, everything about you since we met has been something else," he said moving to your side of the pool table. He invaded your personal space in the best way, leaning next to you against the polished wood of the worn pool table.

"It got me thinking about what other kinds of riding you might enjoy", his hushed drawl dripping like honey into your ear. It didn't make your aim any cleaner and you missed your 4th shot of the evening, sending him a scowl to disguise your less-than-pure thoughts. 

God, you would let him do horrible things to your body in front of your conservative Christian parents if he asked.

"What? don't like it when someone plays dirty princess?" He said with eyebrows raised in a patronizing tone that made you shiver and clench your thighs to relieve the bubbling heat that settled in your abdomen. You needed to compose yourself if you were going to win this, but your resolve was dwindling by the second.

"Well, sweetheart, it seems like you don't mind either," you said in a last-ditch effort to regain the upper hand, running your pointer finger along his defined pectorals. 

He let out a hitched breath he didn't know he was holding. You were going to be the death of him. One second he was in control and the next he was below you, right where you wanted him. You were wild in that sense and he loved this back-and-forth chase for dominance. At this moment, he would let you do whatever you wanted to him; he could definitely get used to it. 

You looked at him through your lashes innocently with mischievous eyes and a playful smile, your hand retracted and now fully leaning with your arms crossed across your chest, further accentuating your tits to his wanton gaze. 

You liked seeing him all hot and bothered, he clearly wasn’t used to it. 

He leaned down to your ear, his Texan drawl low and gravelly with arousal, "you're playing a very dangerous game, darlin'."

"You seem to have forgotten that I'm good at playing games…and winning them," you said with a tight-lipped smile, winking at him, turning away to go to the other side, "it's your turn by the way.”

God, he wanted to do filthy things to you on top of the pool table. But he wanted you to crack first, give you the final push towards passion. 

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. Lining up his shot, feeling the weight of your lustful gaze, his eyes met yours. Eyes filled with mirth as lust bubbled below the surface, a small cat-got-the-cream smirk adorning your face. 

The last thread of his resolve snapped.

Rising to his full height from the table, he placed the pool stick on the table. He gradually invaded your personal space, caging you between his hard chest and the wooden frame of the table nudging into your lower back, with his weight supported by strong, toned arms on each side of you. Their faces a mere few inches away from each other, his hand reaching up to caress your soft cheek. The feeling of his rough hands on your skin made you shiver, meeting his intense gaze. He waited for any hesitation or unease to show under your eyes but found none. 

His hand cradled the back of your neck and cheek as he claimed your lips with his, stealing any air from your lungs. You let out a small moan at the feel of his soft lips. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt in your fist unconsciously as the other met the short hair at the back of his neck, running over the clipped hair there. Smirking into the kiss, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, bringing his opposite hand up to hold your other cheek. After a few moments, they pulled apart gasping for air, his hands still encompassing your face, as he leaned his forehead against yours, letting his eyes softly close. An act of softness and intimacy you wouldn’t have expected from him. 

 "I really hope that was alright because I don't think I can recover if it wasn't", he spoke breathlessly.

"It was more than ok, trust me", reassuring him, toying with the chain of his dog tags and feeling the material of his shirt. 

You slid your hands along the chain, feeling the pebbled texture run between your fingers as they traced towards the small metal engraved tags that rested on his warm chest. Once your fingers reached the small pieces of metal, you yanked him back to your lips by the chain. He smiled into the kiss as his hands moved from your face down to your hips, grabbing a handful of your ass. He grabbed the backs of your thighs to wrap around his waist, supporting you on the edge of the table. Your hands moved behind his neck to bring him impossibly closer, continuing to run your hands over the back of his head, savoring the texture of the short hair at the base of his neck.

His large hands grasped your hips, starting to slide under your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

"Is this what you want ?" He asked making his way down your neck, kissing and sucking at the sweet spot at the base of your neck that made you mewl and weave your hands into his hair, leaving a dark blue mark you’d have to worry about later. 

  You nodded eagerly. 

 "I need you to use your words, sweetheart," he said trailing soft kisses up the column of your neck, grazing his teeth on your pulse, and pausing to meet your glazed-over eyes and plush lips. Your fingers still intertwined in the short hair at the base of his neck.

  "I need you so bad, Jake", you mewled. 

He let out a shaky breath at the use of his name and the feeling of you tugging at his roots, quickly and passionately resuming his ministrations.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'll take good care of you...." He said between kisses, trailing them down your flushed neck and the tops of your breasts, hands coming up to play with the lace of your bra.

  “But…”

Your eyes shot open, worry plaguing your eyes like ink in water. 

"As much as I want to absolutely ruin you on this pool table, it wouldn’t be right to damage Penny's only pool table," he gave you a reassuring smile, “and, I don’t know about you, but I want you all to myself for our first time and not worry about anyone catching us.”

You’re core throbbed, a low noise escaping the back of your throat, your chest heaving. First time? Anyone catching us? 

His hands gave your ass a squeeze as his eyes widened a bit at the realization, a sly smile growing on his face, taking in the treasure before him. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, “I want to take you out, romance you, meet that pretty mare you got back home, stargaze in the field outside my parents' ranch… “ he smiled into kiss placed behind your ear, “and you seem really into the idea of getting caught,” he licked from the base of your throat to your ear, you shuddered, tugging on his hair, “and I would never be opposed to fulfilling my girl’s needs, no matter the time…Or place”, he said nibbling on your earlobe, smirking into your flushed skin at your breathless whimpers. 

My girl. His endearment and actions made you blush and try to hide a bashful smile by burying your face into his shoulder. No one you could remember had this effect on you, and it scared you just as much as it made you dizzy. 

Jake kissed your temple and looked at you with a hopeful, longing gleam in his eye, a bright genuine smile, his adorable dimples showing through.

Up till now, you assumed this would be a one-time hookup and after two more weeks, you’d never see each other again which disappointed you more than you would care to admit. After all, that was how Hangman seemed to handle all his one-night stands, as you’d heard through the grapevine. But he wanted to take you out? Meet Sweet Girl, your pride and joy back home? See where you called home? Take you to his home? And then he was back to doing sinful things to your body? 

“I would love that,” you said smiling and breathless. 

He beamed at you, showing his pearly whites, and brought his lips to yours again. 

“Fuck, your lips are like candy,” he moaned against your lips. 

You broke the kiss to catch your breath, “Jake, please...”, you mewled with a pout. Your face was flushed, your eyes glassy, and your lips were kiss swollen. You looked perfect; all needy and ready for him.  

A smug grin spread across his face, you were so desperate. It only inflated his ego more.

“Please what? I’m having trouble understanding you”, his smug eyes contrasting his furrowed eyebrows and faux confused expression.

You huffed, tensing your jaw, and rolling your eyes, “Jake-”

“Come on, let me hear it, princess,” he laid kisses along your neck. 

Rolling your eyes, huffing in annoyance, your resolve eroding by each kiss laid to your pulse, “please fuck me, Jake.”

“Atta girl, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smirked, “I know you’re desperate sweetheart, but your gonna have to wait till we go somewhere else before I can fuck you properly” He chuckled at the low whine that escaped your throat as you pouted. 

You were absolutely adorable. 

He smirked and kissed your pouted lips, still holding your hips against the pool table with his own, thinking about all the surfaces in his shared dorm he wanted to christen with you.

 “Well….”

He looked at you with piqued interest and raised eyebrows, your eyes filled with a sense of shyness and excitement. 

"There's always the pool table on base… and nobody uses that one anyways" you bashfully smirked, trying to hide a full-blown grin. 

He could have sworn he felt the last drop of blood leave his brain and flow to his dick at your words.

"Fuck, I love the way you think". He said lifting you off the table and leading you to the Hard Deck parking lot to his truck; paying no mind to the absence of their teammates' cars in the parking lot. He opened the door for you before running to the driver's side. He started the ignition as you littered kisses on his neck and reached out to caress his inner thigh, reaching for his cock through his jeans.

"Sweetheart, if we're going to do this, I need to be able to drive us," he said, hissing as you found the sweet spot behind his ear, sucking, biting, and soothing with your tongue, leaving a hickey in its wake. His hands tensed on the gear shift and steering wheel as he felt your hand graze his abdomen and sneak into his jeans, squeezing his bare length. 

"Then what’s stopping you, cowboy." You purred, pausing your assault on his neck and meeting his lust-glazed eyes with a hushed, breathless tone. 

“You need to behave if we’re gonna do this, Sweets”, he groaned feeling your warm hand on his length.

“Or what?”, you challenged. 

Jake grabbed the back of your head, fingers tangling firmly in your hair to bring you mere inches close to his face, “Well, sweetheart… I won’t let you cum and I really don’t think you want our first night together to end like that. It would be such a waste after all your hard work.” His lust-blown eyes were awaiting a challenge, but they were only met with a hitched breath and a low noise from the back of your throat. 

He slammed his lips to yours, slamming on the gas to break multiple traffic laws to get back to base, feeling your hot gaze on him the entire way home. 

___

Taglist: @potato-girl99981​

[evewasheretoday]

Headcanons For My Heathers Childhood Friends With Veronica AU <3

Heather Chandler:

Even as a kid, she had a natural inclination for leadership.

She's the one who mostly made plans for when and where the four of them would hang out.

And she's the one who mostly held sleepovers at her place.

She preferred eating any sweet food as a kid before eventually growing and disliking them.

Heather Chandler is a born leader.

While also being a tsundere.

She used to have a superiority complex before she met Veronica.

While Veronica kept challenging her authority and expressed her opinions (not caring if Heather wanted it or not) she became used to it as time passed by and eventually started valuing & seeking Veronica's opinions.

Because of Veronica, Heather began to have some sort liking for debates and she'd occasionally have them with Veronica.

She still had a pretty dominant, assertive and charismatic personality as a kid.

She has a big soft spot for her friends.

She'd occasionally lie about things if they could or would get any of her friends in trouble or upset.

She hates dogs (thinks they poop all over the place) and has an annoying but cute sassy cat.

She was supposed to be an only child but because she was bored and wanted some sort of company when her parents or friends weren't around, she asked for a little sister and got that :)

She's like the strict mother of the group.

She's brutally honest but would definitely twist her words when it comes to her friends.

She hates legally blond for some reason.

She has a talent in singing but no one knew she could sing until she secretly began singing to herself when she was waiting for Mac, Duke and Veronica to arrive at her house for a sleepover.

She's very protective of them.

This protectiveness turned into possessiveness when they grew up.

Heather Duke:

Had god complex as a kid and still has it till now.

She was pretty introverted and reserved as a kid while being extremely quiet.

She took everything as a kid seriously.

She hated puns as a kid and still hates it till now.

She'd criticize and judge everyone around her in her head secretly.

She used to be an overthinker but stopped being one when she became friends with Martha.

She liked being alone as a kid and appreciated solitude a lot.

She has an opinion of everything but she keeps some of them to herself because they're brutal and offensive.

She was and still is observant of everything going on around her.

She has a mischievous sense of humor that only emerges when she's in the company of Heather, Heather and Veronica.

She has a pet hamster.

She secretly has a talent in drawing and painting but no one knows of them other than her family, friends, a few classmates and teachers.

Chandler used to always tell her to shut up as a joke back then but when Veronica left them some time in middle school, Chandler started letting out her anger at Duke by telling her to shut up and got her used to that.

That's also why Duke has a love-hate relationship with Veronica.

Heather McNamara:

She's the voice of reason in the group when one of them is fighting or arguing with the other.

Even as a kid, she always had a warm and nurturing nature.

She's the one who always looked out for others and tried to bring harmony to the group.

She has a talent in dancing and singing, she'd actually sing along to any songs she knew and found catchy when she could.

She's an animal lover (She'd often rescue any injured animals along with Veronica who despite not wanting to, had no choice in the matter but to go with her.)

She loves nature secretly.

Her mom is asthmatic of animals with fur so she doesn't have any pets sadly :(

She doesn't like it when any of her friends fight so when Veronica left them, she tried multiple times to get her back with them till Chandler told her to just stop and Duke told her it's no use cause Veronica isn't one to change her mind that much when she already has it set up on something.

Veronica Sawyer:

She had a vivid imagination and a huge thirst for adventure as a kid.

She'd often invent her own games and play them with the Heathers.

Veronica had a natural talent for writing and storytelling even as a kid.

She had one heck of a sharp intellect and an insatiable curiosity.

She would try and experiment things out of curiosity.

She'd ask the Heathers a lot of questions (mostly scenario based or hypothetically) and the Heathers would always answer them because they found it interesting.

She wasn't rebellious until she met the Heathers and got influenced by them.

She was morally ambiguous as a kid and still is before eventually becoming sorta morally grey because of JD.

She's easily influenced by people she finds mysterious and alluring.

Other Headcanons:

Chandler is the oldest while Veronica, Duke and Mac are the same age (but Mac likes to pretend she's younger than the two of them).

Chandler is taller than Veronica than a few inches while Mac follows after her and is taller than Duke who's the shortest out of the four of them.

Their relationship was very very healthy till things happened and it started going downhill and started becoming unhealthy. Toxic in some cases even.

Veronica has a dog, Chandler has a cat, Duke has a hamster and Mac doesn't have any pets but she does like to pretend that every animal she comes across is hers.

The Heathers and Veronica had a falling out in middle school because of something (I won't tell what it is because it'll be spoiling my fanfic and my AU's plot).

Although they pretended like Veronica was no one and that they never had anything to do with her, they thought of her everyday when they fell out with each other before eventually kinda forgetting they used to be friends with each other in High School because they were occupied with things in life.

The Heathers basically banned everything that reminded them of Veronica in any way and would avoid mentioning or remembering anything about her.

Veronica could care less because she thinks they aren't the same people she first became good friends with.

[smgsecretsanta]

A gift from @bazwillendinflames to @insertlovelyperson

Text under the cut

Dylan had never been a morning person until camp, where he had found a new routine: getting up early for morning announcements, sitting in the radio hut with watery coffee. His first impression of his new workplace had been low, the room was rundown and dusty, the roof creaked and groaned under the elements, which still took him by surprise every time. But he had fixed up the hut over the summer. Most importantly, it was the only place where Dylan could be alone to unwind. 

Dylan hadn’t been expecting how much energy it took to reimagine yourself as someone funny, charismatic and, he could only hope, cool. He had come to camp with a plan to use his last summer before college for a trial run of the new Dylan. 

Dylan had been hoping for a little fun, just like when he had come to Hackett’s Quarry as a kid. But he hadn’t expected to make so many new friends, even if it felt a little hollow with them liking the new Dylan. 

He loved hanging out with them, laughing at Nick’s offbeat sense of humour, poking fun at Jacob’s earnestness and pretending not to be intimidated by Kaitlyn’s effortless coolness. Even the counsellors he was less close to were becoming his friends. Abi’s shyness was fading as the weeks went on and he was starting to like Emma’s dramatic flair. 

Then there was Ryan, who Dylan put in his own special category. Whilst the rest of them had become close, Ryan remained reclusive. It only made Dylan more drawn to him. He had made an effort to talk to Ryan as much as he could without coming off as obsessed (Kaitlyn’s words, complete with a knowing smirk) but the other counsellor still remained a mystery. 

Although sometimes… sometimes Ryan would laugh at one of Dylan’s jokes, or add a dry comment. He was good with the kids, helping them through homesickness. It was an unexpected sweet side to him, and it only made Dylan pine harder. 

Kaitlyn made fun of him for it, even if she agreed Ryan was hot. 

“Good luck,” she had said with a snort, “I’ve been hitting on him the last two summers and he never flirts back.” 

Dylan had grinned at her. “Maybe he’s more into guys.” 

“I think he’s bi,” Kaitlyn had said, wiggling her eyebrows, “so it’s fair game.” 

She had been joking, but it had sparked a hope in Dylan that he couldn’t ignore. His crush snowballed. 

So did Kaitlyn’s teasing, which was why Dylan was glad to be alone when he read their chore rota. His and Ryan’s names were printed together under  ‘general maintenance.’ An otherwise boring chore was suddenly all he could think about. 

Daydreams of exactly how it would go distracted him all morning. Dylan’s main job was the radio hut but Mr H didn’t think that kept him busy enough, so he usually found a stack of admin to do on the desk. He’d learnt the camp was running out of money, two counsellors never 

showed up and that Jacob’s middle name was Archibald. But none of his usual tasks kept his mind off Ryan, so Dylan announced lunch ten minutes early and headed to the hall. 

It was empty for once, probably because he was early, only Nick banging around the kitchen. Dylan poked his head in. “Hey.” 

Nick didn’t look up from the giant pot of mac and cheese he was stirring. “You good man? You’re never on time.” 

“Lies,” Dylan replied, even if it was true. He leaned against the counter. “Hey, want to guess Jacob’s middle name?” 

“Kind of busy,” Nick replied. 

Dylan spent the rest of lunch distracted, a little embarrassed at how his attention kept drifting to Ryan at the other end of the table. He tapped his fingers on the table, full of restless energy. 

Kaitlyn put her hand on top of his. “You good?” 

“I’m fine,” Dylan replied. 

“What’s up?” Kaitlyn pushed, clearly seeing through him. 

“Nothing.” 

Despite his best efforts to be casual, his eyes darted to Ryan once again. This time Kaitlyn noticed. 

“You’re down bad,” she teased. 

“Shut up.” 

That only made Kaitlyn grin more, which didn’t disappear for the rest of lunch. She shot him a wink as they parted ways for the afternoon. Dylan made a point of ignoring her, although he did fuss with his hair once her back was turned. 

Ryan was talking to Mr H’s kids, although they sulked away once he approached. They practically made Ryan look as extroverted as Emma. Dylan figured they must be homeschooled. 

“Those guys never let you get a word in, huh?” Dylan joked. 

Ryan shrugged. “You have to get to know them.” 

Given that they had just bolted at the sight of him, Dylan wasn’t so sure. But if they were Ryan’s friends, it was probably best not to push it. He didn’t want to piss Ryan off. 

“So, I have to go make a couple of quick announcements and then I’m all yours.” 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?” 

Dylan hoped his face wasn’t too red. “If you’re lucky,” he replied. 

It was better to double down on the accidental flirting than to shy away from it like the old Dylan would have. The old Dylan went to prom alone. 

“Can I come with?” Ryan asked. 

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Dylan said, savouring the brief quirk of a smile he got in return. 

Ryan followed him out, hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s cool the radio hut is open again. It was fun as a kid.” 

“You were a camper here too?” Dylan asked. 

He wondered if Ryan had put together the dorky kid from cabin four to him. But he didn’t remember seeing Ryan either, and the camp used to be busier, so maybe their paths had simply never crossed. Dylan was oddly disappointed at the idea of it. 

He shook his head. “Not officially but Chris is a family friend and my Mom was always… too busy to take care of me over breaks.” 

“You must really like it here to keep coming back.” 

“Yeah. There’s good memories here, no matter how much pot washing I did to earn my keep,” Ryan said.  

They had reached the radio hut but Dylan considered looping around camp again to keep the conversation going. It was the first time Ryan had opened up to him. But Dylan didn’t get so lucky - they reached the door and Ryan stopped, looking at him expectantly. Dylan opened the door and they stepped inside. 

Ryan started poking at the shelves. “I guess all the vinyls are Chris’?” 

“He thought I might want some of his music,” Dylan explored. “But I think he just wanted to keep his shit here. It was basically a storage shed when I moved in.” 

“Not a Billy Joel guy?” Ryan asked. 

“That’s dad music,” Dylan replied. 

Ryan didn’t reply, back to browsing. Dylan left him to it as he flicked through the loose papers on the desk for the announcements. The paper was under the schedule and Dylan felt his face heat up. He hoped Ryan hadn’t noticed how he had underlined their names like a middle schooler. 

Dylan reached for the speaker. “Good afternoon campers. This afternoon cabins one, three and five will be doing some drama exercises with the lovely Emma, so brush off your acting skills. That leaves cabins two and four in the care of Kaitlyn and Jacob for some archery sessions. Remember to point it away from you. Chef Nicholas will have dinner ready at six, so save your appetites!” 

Dylan put down the speakerphone and swirled in his chair to find Ryan watching him. 

“Enjoy the show?”

“You’re a real poet,” Ryan replied dryly. “Ready? The drains won’t clean themselves.” 

Dylan pulled a face. “That’s what maintenance is? That sucks.” 

“I’ll get you some gloves.” 

He got out his chair. “Hey, there’s no one I’d rather clean drains with.” 

Ryan rolled his eyes but Dylan hadn’t been kidding. Kaitlyn was right - he was down bad. 

“So, did you do a lot of this as a kid? Or was it all just dishwashing?” 

“Just dishes,” Ryan said after a moment of consideration, “Chris let me do the activities too. He was good to us.” “Us?” 

“My sister used to come too. But Sarah’s fourteen now so she thinks she’s too cool for summer camp.” There was a fondness in his voice that Dylan hadn’t seen from Ryan all summer. “Little sisters.” 

“I won’t know. I’m an only child.” 

“That tracks,” Ryan said. 

Dylan wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He’d ask Kaitlyn later, he trusted her opinion. 

“What’s she like?” Dylan asked. “A mini Ryan?” 

“She’s in her Hot Topic and video games phase.” 

“So, yes?” Dylan teased. 

Ryan laughed and he wanted to play the sound on loop. “Hey, rude.” 

“Nothing wrong with it. I like your style.” 

Ryan looked down at his outfit - all black under a faded flannel shirt with the arms cut off. It was an effortlessly cool look that served as a reminder Dylan was trying too hard. He’d stocked up on band shirts and ripped jeans but never quiet felt confident in them. At least he was a good actor. 

“Thanks.” Ryan looked away, almost shy. The idea made Dylan smile to himself. “Anyway, we’ve got a job to do.” 

“Lucky us,” Dylan grumbled, pulling on gloves. 

It turned out that cleaning drains was not as romantic as he’d hoped. Even with Ryan’s company, scraping wet leaves from a gutter was not his idea of fun. Nor did it provide much opportunity for conversation. Ryan had retreated back into himself, pulling headphones from somewhere. 

Still Dylan was content. He had gotten Ryan to open up a little. He made him laugh. It was a good first step. Maybe they could be friends - there was still half the summer left. 

Maybe, if Dylan was lucky, they could be more. 

[daryascurse]

A little something in your ask box ❤ Eren's A, C, H, J, M, W

❤️😫 AWWW MY GOODNESS THANK YOU!! I was SO excited to see this hehe I’ve been on a bit of an Eren kick the past few months that hasn't gone away.

Okay this is sort of modern-AU Eren just to be consistent with all the prompts (and I love my modern Eren with a touch of stoner lol). I shuffled a little from the alphabetical order just to flow a little better.

ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ + BLANK / AGELESS BLOGS ᴅɴɪ // cw: recreational weed smoking, alcohol, kinda possessive vibes; completely g/n reader not described with pronouns or genitalia, but mentions of high heels

ALPHABET NSFW ASKS (still open!)

A for Aphrodisiac [What always turns them on?]

A few things turn Eren Jaeger on without fail; but he never really noticed the effect they have on him until they were characteristics of yours. He loves your independence. He loves the way you move through the world with an unapologetic freedom. He has to shift his legs in public when you give a devious smirk, when someone says something and you have some smart retort to bite back with. And he loves when that little clever laugh becomes a keen between the sheets, loves being the one to take your brain and make it melt just for a while, taking his time just coaxing it out of you to make you fall apart under his touch. His touch. He’s not controlling, he could never control you, but he takes pride in being the person to make you thoughtless for once. Besides, shouldn’t all boyfriends be a little possessive? That’s another thing – boyfriend. Partner, significant other. It doesn’t matter the term. Anything you say publicly, with a pride, with a cooing smile, is irresistible to him. The burst in his chest is a little juvenile, but he can’t swallow it down, he won’t hide a smirk of his own when you introduce him with such a label. It’s the same feeling other people might get by buying their lover jewelry or more extreme public showings of belonging. For him, your choice to call him by such special words is enough. Something else, something more tangible that turns him on, is when you wear high heels. It doesn’t matter how tall they are, how tall they make you. Even if you tower over him, he loves how strong it makes the muscles in your legs look, the way your hips sway as you walk in them, the way it literally elevates you so simply. Not that you need it. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he said once in the elevator on your way to a dinner, and his eyes were dark with desire.

J for Jazz [What’s their go-to sexy song/playlist?]

Eren doesn’t really have a “sex” playlist. He has a playlist that inevitably gets shuffled through at night when you have a bowl or two or three together; so, it’s usually just already playing when his fingers, thick and slow from the marijuana, crawl over your clothes to peel them off you. A month or so into seeing each other, you’d convinced him to make it collaborative – he grumbled just a little at not wanting to spoil his carefully curated vibe, but he’s also been adding your favorite songs to his library. The songs he’d already had on the playlist include “Skin” by Mac Miller, “Acai Bowl” by Dominic Fike, "You've Got Everything Now" by The Smiths, “Moon” by Seahaven, and “War” by Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (yes, the Hunger Games theme – it came on shuffle mode once when his head was between your thighs, and in your hazy mind it was hilarious. He sat up with a scowl and turned his head to hide his flush as he quickly skipped to the next song, and you howled with laughter as he muttered something about it being a “really good song to blast through headphones while walking home stoned from the park.”).

M for Moan [What kind of noises do they make? What sounds do they like to hear from their partner?]

It’s not that he’s quiet, but Eren wants to hear you more. Especially at first, when things are just getting hot and heavy, when he’s listening acutely to the sharpness of your sighs and moans and using that to guide his hands and his mouth over you. He’s groaning, his gasping breaths full of sound, but he’s listening to the cues to figure out what makes you feel best – pressing further when he hears your “oh yeah”s and “right there”s and shifting his touch to get your voice to that point where it’s breaking, where your mouth can’t properly form words anymore. He gets pleasure from giving you pleasure. That is the first thing he sets to do when he puts his lips on you to worship your body, and he’ll take his time doing so. But the words finally burst from him when you’re half-drunk from endorphins and hungry for your orgasm, when his fingers are on your thighs and his tongue drips with your arousal. You’re begging in broken sentences, your body in agony. That’s when his throaty groans turn verbal, when he sits up, fixes his eyes on you, and speaks with that possessiveness through his wet lips – “ ‘S getting sensitive? You can still come for me.”

H for Hands [What do they do with their hands during sex?]

Maybe it’s because Eren always wants to make sure you get off – he’s said that he feels good when he makes you feel good – but his hands are always on you. It doesn’t matter the position, he’s always touching you, stroking against your skin, rubbing the places he knows are sensitive with the lightest, but most insistent, caresses. Sometimes his hands are gentle like that. And other times, his hands hold you by aching wrists, as he groans right into your ear and your hips jerk as he fucks into you again, and again, chasing down your climax with his own. “Tell me it’s mine, your pretty little body is all mine.”

C for Cuddling [How do they cuddle after sex?]

When the two of you collapse, naked and exhausted in the sheets, Eren takes a moment to gather his breath. You’re doing the same, your mind turning cartwheels as your blood pounds and your bones weigh you down, and you can barely hear the creak of the mattress over spinning in your ears when he sits up again with a long sigh. He goes into the kitchen, and returns with a glass of water, and a gentle reminder that you should pee. You drag yourself to the bathroom with staggering steps, and when you make it back to the bed, he’s wearing boxers, pulled the sheets back up and propping the pillows in place again. He hands you a clean oversized t-shirt with hands still trembling from exertion, hair sticking to his forehead in a sweaty sheen. You let him help you back into the bed. He passes you the water from the dresser and puts it back when you take a sip. Neither of you have the energy to speak as he crawls back in bed. You turn to him with open arms, welcoming him into a silent, overly warm embrace of limbs, heartbeats, and damp sheets.

W for Wet [How would they have sex in the shower?]

You’ve brought up sex in the shower a handful of times before in different contexts, and Eren’s never really given the warmest reaction. Once he wrinkled his nose, pointed out in a doubtful deadpan just how difficult and clumsy the mechanics would be. Another time, he asked if it was something you’d done with an ex, a tinge of jealousy coloring his voice. So you’ve mostly seen it as a joke now, nothing to seriously pursue. But you come home extremely drunk together tonight. You’re sweaty and buzzing from the walk. When you whine about wanting to shower, Eren asks if he can join you. Your enthused “yeah of course!” matches the same heavy alcohol-laden tone he had invited himself in. You two stumble into the shower without even turning on the bathroom light and the fresh water is all you can pay attention to, the hot stream pouring down your face and waterlogging your senses. You don’t even care about the sting blinding your eyes, don’t even think of Eren at first until you spit warm water out of your mouth and ask hoarsely if he wants to switch. You reach for the bottle of body wash but his hand is on your face, turning it to you, and his lips devour yours in a drunken kiss. It is clumsy, he was right, as you scramble to hold to the edge of the tub and he bends you over with a foot on the ledge. The angle isn’t quite right, the water hitting you around the shield of his body in jagged strikes, the porcelain tub too smooth to grip – but you don’t care, your brain is just wheeling in dumb drunk circles as your thighs shake and your teeth chatter, skin somewhere between hot and cold as he holds your hips in slippery fingers. He draws out wetness between your legs with each uneven stroke. The small room reels in steam and moans, everything getting teased but nothing getting fully satisfied, and he finally grunts: “Let’s go to the bed, okay?”

[saturn-sends-hugs]

Ask and ye shall receive:

Ok first off, I’m gonna try to keep this somewhat short since I have WAY too many of these uh…

Literally longer than my longfic rn 🫠. And this is discounting ones just floating elsewhere (and about 99% (heh. ow.) of it is angst) so I’m just gonna pick three happier headcanons for the Batch. Which are still very, very long 😅

1. Cooking

Tech cannot cook. He reads the recipe, he will follow it to the T, but for reasons he can absolutely never understand (substituting ingredients for things that would work in theory but very much so do not), what he ends up with is dubious at best and dangerous at worst. (Never let Tech near a microwave. Ever. He will get ideas)

Hunter thinks he can cook. He knows how to make packaged meals and simple stuff like that, but he cannot cook. Omega would absolutely never ask him to cook because no one wants the space equivalent of a plain baloney sandwich for every meal of the day.

Wrecker can cook, he just doesn’t like to. You’re telling me I have to spend two hours putting these ingredients together for a meal when I could just eat them as is? He doesn’t see the point of making sides or extra stuff instead of just making the food edible as soon as possible. (Not to say that he doesn’t like all the extra stuff, he just would pretty much never spend the time to make it himself)

Crosshair could cook. If he wanted to. He does not.

And ofc Echo can cook, his very first shore leave he went out to buy cooking tools and sat with Tech to modify them into scomp attachments. He learned since he’s always been a picky eater and just liked something other than ration bars most of the time. But also since he’s a picky eater, a lot of the times he’ll cook for the batch and make something completely separate for himself. And maybe for Omega. Cause she wanted space mac n cheese too. (am i projecting here MAYBE MAYBE LISTEN— i could go on abt my autistic/picky eater echo headcanons (100% self-inserts) all day but that’s for another post lol)

2. Sleeping

Tech sleeps like a cartoon character, ass directly in the air with his pillow all fluffed under his head.

Wrecker sleeps completely starfished on his back snoring louder than one would think possible.

Crosshair sleeps like the dead, arms directly at his sides and he wakes up the exact same way, just opening his eyes and slowly levering up to sitting like a mummy or something.

Hunter sleeps like a normal person (lol), but he has big sound canceling headphones since his senses would never let him sleep with Wreckers snoring.

Echo doesn’t like sleeping, but when he does, he sleeps curled as tightly as possible with his back to the wall. Eventually the batch get him a weighted blanket and Tech makes him a heated mattress, but he still never likes sleeping :)

3. Swearing (once Omega is with them):

Tech isn’t usually one to swear anyway, so it’s not difficult for him to just not when Omega is around.

Wrecker would make up fun replacements like cheese and crackers or H E double hockey sticks-type things.

Hunter would try his best, but he would get like halfway through before he changes it like “Holy shiiiiiiiitaké” yknow?

I’m a bit undecided on Crosshair, he would either act all cold and tough but absolutely never swear around Omega and flick toothpicks at whoever accidentally does, or he just wouldn’t care. Fully like “Fuck you, dipshit,” and Hunter would just glare at him until Cross fixes himself like “Sorry, sorry, I meant asshole.”

And Echo would be the one enforcing the rule. He’s the one glaring at Hunter when he accidentally slips up and starts to swear, he would cover Omegas ears when there’s people at Cid’s, he’s just the mom.

However. He’s an arc trooper. He was in Anakin’s battalion, he’s Fives’ twin, and he straight up says “What the hell,” within the first few minutes we meet him. Omega knows more curse words than the average pirate, but she has no idea that’s what they are because every time Echo swears around her, it goes like this:

Echo: *long string of botched mando’a swears*

Omega: *repeats them*? What’s that mean?

Echo (immediately blushing and freaking out): Nothing, nothing! It’s super boring, it just means… uh…….. socks…

And Omega would never know until she repeats it to one of the others and they all just turn to glare at Echo as he desperately tries to melt into the floor.

And lastly, bonus from the dredges of my notes app:

I have SO many more but I’m gonna stop myself there 😅 And uh, while I was scrolling through my notes I found a TON of stuff I just?? Never posted?? So idk, I’m thinking of doing like a weekly headcanon/wip/notes-app-whatever post just to put them out there or something, idk. (Should I?)

Gonna tag @gentle-hero-blog @phis-writing and @jealous-sloth77 since y’all wanted this lol

[tabithaxking]

[cis female and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [TABITHA KING]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [SOPHIE THATCHER]. You must be the [TWENTY THREE] year old [WAITRESS AT ALL NIGHT DINER / HOUSE CLEANER]. Word is you’re [HONEST] but can also be a bit [STANDOFFISH] and your favorite song is [DUVET BY BÔA]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS].

INFORMATION:

fullname. tabitha louise king

nicknames. tabby, tab, tabby cat.

gender. cis female

pronouns. she / her

d.o.b. october 27th, 2000 | ( 23 years old )

astrology. scorpio ☀ scorpio ☾  gemini ↑

birth place. unknown.

hometown. various.

current residence. aurora bay, california. ( @aurorabayaesthetic​ )

occupation. waitress at the all night diner / house cleaner.

religion. atheist.

tattoos. none.

piercings. two holes in ears, helix.

marital status. single.

sexual preference. heterosexual.

family. angelica king (mother), unknown (father), francis king (grandfather), yelena king (gandmother).

children. theodora "theo" king (daughter).

CHARACTER INSPO:

rosie dunne ( love, rosie ), emma ( just for the summer ), max mayfield ( stranger things ), sarah manning ( orphan black ), eleanor shellstrop ( the good place ).

PERSONALITY:

+ intelligent, strong, independent. - standoffish, untrusting, introverted.

BIOGRAPHY:

( tw: depictions of undiagnosed mental illness, child neglect, illness )

There’s not much known about where exactly Tabitha King came from. Her birth certificate was from a local Milwaukee hospital, but whether or not they stayed there long enough to consider that home, Tabby didn't count on it. The only core memories she has comes to mind is of a beautiful blonde looking at her in the rearview mirror of a beat up car. Singing Fleetwood Mac with her dangling earrings and the smell of roses. A warm smile and eyes that sparkled. Staying up late watching black and white movies in motels. The good times. These were the memories of her mother that she likes to think about the most.

But that wasn't the whole picture. It was leaving place after place once the men Angelica was dating grew bored with her constant drama. Her highs and lows. It was days of her mother not being able to get out of bed because she was in one of her 'moods'. It was the times that her mother said she was going out, and not coming back for weeks at a time. Angelica was here one moment and gone the next. A rare comet from a distance. A destructive force upon contact. The periods of times that her mother would leave, galavanting off with her new beau and leaving her daughter behind, became longer and longer. Eventually, CPS caught wind of the eight-year-old who showed up to school wearing dirty clothes, unbrushed hair and severely underfed, Tabby got put into the system.

It took them a whole year to find her mother, but Tabitha was always waiting for her. Even when they said Angelica wasn't coming and that she'd have to go to Aurora Bay, California and live with her grandparents, she still waited. Waited for her mother to come home, to choose her, to make her feel special. It never happened. Tabitha was withdrawn as a kid, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It made her fiercely independent. Her grandparents were lovely people, but they knew their daughter - she was never coming back.

As time moved on, Tabby eventually came out of her shell and what emerged was an angry little girl. At school, she was too smart and too mouthy. Constantly in detention for talking back to teachers while getting straight A's on their tests. Any rule was broken, forever acting out as if the school would call her mother and she'd have to come and get her. All it did was give her grandparents grief. She loved them, but the trauma from her childhood was too deep in her veins. Her only saving grace were her friends, the people who made school tolerable. Her best friend, Lucky - he was the grounding force she needed. She would have loved him if she were able to, but after everything that happened with her mother, Tabitha had learned never to love anyone too much. It'll only destroy you when they inevitably leave.

Comforting him during the rough patches with his family came easy to her, and they only grew closer during those times until one night, it blossomed into something more. One night was all it took to completely flip her world upside down. She fully supported his sudden move to London after his parents divorce, she longed to go with him but two pink lines kept her planted in Aurora Bay. Tabitha thought about telling him. When they spoke on the phone, he was always so excited, telling stories about adventures. Tabitha knew that if she told him, he'd come home and it seemed so cruel to crush his dreams like that. There were thoughts of other options, but this was a piece of Lucky and she'd never get rid of that. So she lied, to everyone. Said the baby was someone else's and decided to raise their daughter on her own.

It was tough being a mother at 18. She was still just a child herself, but her grandparents were a great support. Theodora King was born and Tabitha's whole life changed. There were no more talks of college. Only doctors appointments, midnight feedings and the cost of diapers. Eventually, once Theo was a little older, she got a job as a waitress at the All-Nighter Diner as they could watch her daughter overnight. There wasn't much time for things like a social life or friends, and eventually Lucky drifted into the background of her new life.

Just as Theo turned three, her grandmother started experiencing signs of Alzheimer's. Forgetting things, getting easily confused. Things got so bad that Tabitha started worrying that it was no longer safe to have her watch Theo unsupervised, and her grandfather needed to look after his wife. The two moved out into an apartment in Ocean Crest. It was small, but it was theirs and Tabitha tried her best to make sure that Theo never wanted for anything. But times were tough, she had no support. And then on Theo's fourth birthday, she cracked. Bills were piling up, her presents were mediocre and all Theo wished for.. was a dad. While they'd talked on and off over the years, Tabitha bit the bullet and called Lucky. Just as she expected, he came straight home.

From there, after many long conversations, they've been figuring out co-parenting as they go. Tabitha has taken extra part-time work for the days she's not waitressing to make sure that all Theo's needs are taken care of, the weight of impending doom lifted with Lucky's support. She still struggles asking for help, but getting there in time. Theo believes that wishes do come true as she really did get her dad for her fourth birthday.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS:

tabitha has been living in aurora bay for the last 14 years after her grandparents took her in from foster care. before that, she was moving from home to home in chicago. ( possible connections: childhood friends, cousins, foster kids from chicago )

her mom was undiagnosed bipolar and would go maniac epsiodes where she would leave tabitha alone for long periods of time. they would move from place to place so she could have picked up a few friends when she was younger. her mom used to enchant men so they had a place to stay, she'd date them for a while but then her moods were get erratic and she'd do things like steal, break their shit or one time, she nearly burnt someone's house down. ( possible connections: men her mom dated, kids of the men her mom dated, someone who encourages this chick to go to therapy )

known around town as a bit of a hard-ass in her youth. she used to talk back to teachers and get detention for being in fights, angry little girl. would have had a small-tight knit group of friends that she cared about but pretended to be indifferent towards them ( possible connections: best friends, friends who lost touch after she got pregnant, kids she got into fights with )

has been working at the all nighter diner for the past fours years since the birth of her daughter, has recently started cleaning houses on the side for extra cash. very unenthusiastic worker but does what she has to so she's not fired ( possible connections: cleaning clients, regulars at the diner, co-workers )

got pregnant just before her 18th birthday after a one night stand with her best friend, lucky. didn't tell anyone that it was his so he wouldn't find out. eventually told him and he came home to help out. currently successfully co-parenting. ( possible connections: lucky's family and friends, godparents, people who helped while she was raising theo )

hasn't been on a date in like five years, at least not successfully. she's a single mom who worked two jobs (reba coded) so there's not much time for things like romance. but since lucky is back and helping out, she might explore more of the online dating space ( possible connections: bad blinde dates, unsuccessful hookups, unrequited crushes )

her non-mom related hobbies include: reading comics, ice-skating (she's actually pretty good) and going to the movies or drive-in, she's a cinemaphile when she has two hours to spare. you can usually find her around town at the movie house, comic emporium, sharky's on the odd occasion. ( possible connections: friends with owners/workers, fellow regulars, random run-ins, one night stands )

before moving to ocean crest apartments, tabitha and theo used to live with her grandparents where she was raised after leaving foster care. unfortunately her grandmother has been suffering with alzheimer's and has been steadily declining so they moved out. on occasion, tabitha takes her grandmother to the hospital for appointments to help her grandfather. ( possible connections: doctors, nurses, people randomly met at the hospital, ocean crest neighbors )

theo is just about to start school in september as she's now five years old. she'll be attending aurora bay elementary, but previously she would have been in daycare at kid’s cottage daycare center on random days that tabitha's grandparents were not available. ( possible connections: new teachers, old daycare teachers, parent friends, playdate friends, theo's best friend's parent )

CURRENT CONNECTIONS:

childhood best friend of / shares a child with @luckylewis

grew up around with @lorelailewis and @macaulaymontgomery

@cassidyxcooke is theo's godparent

cousin to @bazhowletts

employee of @greengideon at the all night diner

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (Part 2/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations

Summary: Mackenzie receives multiple offers from the officers of the Shelby Brothers Company Limited.

Word Count: 3075

A/N: Here’s another bit. Let me know what you think and if you want added to the tag list.

Mac stood at the window overlooking the city. It had taken her a lot to get to where she was today, and she’d promised herself to never take her success for granted. She knew how easily it could all disappear. It was why when she’d briefly considered taking a personal day when she’d awoken with dry eyes, a rats nest for hair, and a headache that made her wish she were hungover, she’d forced herself into the shower and then to the office. Zeus laid on the couch on the opposite wall. The thought of leaving him at home this morning never crossed her mind.

The phone on her desk buzzed, and again, she wanted to ignore it. She had a clear calendar for most of the morning, but with a shake of her head she crossed to the desk and answered. 

“You’ve got a walk-in, but he’s willing to wait or make an appointment if you don’t have time now.” 

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s alright. Send him in.” 

Zeus perked up as he heard the knock on the door. 

Thomas Shelby strode into the room wearing another three piece suit and peaked cap. Before she could utter a command, Zeus jumped from the couch, dashed to where he stood and jumped up, trying to lick Tommy’s face. Tommy scratched between his ears before uttering Sitz. In awe, she watched Zeus do as he was told.

“Looks like you’ve made a friend.” 

“I’ve a way with animals,” he glanced up at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “It’s the Gypsy in me.” 

“Since I doubt Zeus is the reason you stopped by my office, what is it I can do for you, Mister Shelby.” 

He took off his hat and gloves, shoving both into his coat pockets before glancing up at her. 

“Tommy. After last night, I think we’re a bit past the formalities, eh?” 

She blushed like a schoolgirl and hated herself a bit for it. What was it about this man? 

“Very well, what can I do for you, Tommy?”

“I’ve come to discuss business.” 

“I appreciate what you did for me last night, truly. Don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to Zeus. He would have shot him, too. That’s the only reason I called him off. He’s a good dog, don’t deserve to die from a bullet shot by a fucking cunt of a coward. Knew he wouldn’t kill me, right? No point in it. I’m the golden goose, and he was going to serve me right up. Use the gun to get me into his car, or mine - drive me right to you or some other nefarious type he’d made a deal with, maybe someone less inclined to be polite about it all.” 

Mac heard the words streaming out of her mouth, felt her heart rate increase as they came out more rapidly. She couldn’t stop though, not the words, not the pace, not the frantic way her heart pounded in her chest, the way the air seemed too thin in the office, as though it was being sucked out and there was none left for her. 

“Who kills a dog? But, he would have. And Zeus wouldn’t have let go, see, so you would have come inside and seen Zeus’ teeth still buried in Rodney’s arm, but he’d be dead, so he’d just be hanging there, maybe the force of the shot would have taken them both to the ground, but what would be the point because he’d be dead - ”

“Mackenzie!”

Warm hands on her cheeks startled her out of her spiral. When had he crossed the room? How had he closed the distance between them without her noticing? She felt his thumbs wipe the tears from her cheeks. God, she didn’t even know when she’d begun crying. Perhaps she should have taken that personal day. Distantly, she heard Zeus whine, felt his bulk leaning against her legs.

“Breathe with me, love,” Tommy’s voice was quiet, soothing. “Look at me.” 

Blinking rapidly, Mac glanced up. Tommy took one of her hands in his, placed it against his chest. She could feel the finely woven material of his vest, the heat of him, the beating of his heart. 

“That’s it. Listen to me voice and breathe when I do, right?” 

She did as he instructed, felt his chest move in and out, forced hers to do the same. 

“There’s a good girl, keep breathing with me.” 

They could have been standing there for hours or minutes, but eventually she felt herself calm. Tommy’s hands slid around her back, pulling her all to willing body against his. His body was like a furnace, warm, safe. He held her as though he had nothing more important to do, as though he could stay in that moment forever. 

She shook her head to clear the last of the fog from it. Taking a step back from him, feeling his warmth leave her, she bent down to sink her fingers into Zeus’ fur. What an idiot she must look like. Mac forced herself to stand firm, not to throw herself back into his arms. 

“Thanks.” 

He inclined his head. 

“You wanted to discuss business, but I’ve already given you my answer.” 

“I’m here to renegotiate.” 

“My display last night and this morning might have given you the wrong impression about me, but Stronghold is a fairly successful security firm. Granted, I do rely a bit too heavily on digital security, which after last night I will need to reassess - thanks, by the way, for the new door. And sneaky of you slipping the new key on last night when you dropped me off.” Mac paused, tilted her head. “I know exactly why Rodney offered my services to you.”

She moved back to the window and pointed across the street. “See, if I ran that cafe down there, I doubt you would have been so keen to accept Rodney’s offer no matter how famous the Bakewell tarts are.”

He had that same damn smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Me younger brother, Finn, he enjoys a Bakewell tart.” 

Mac chuckled and shook her head. “I know what you do, Tommy. I know what type of business a man like you operates.” 

“Ran a background check on me, eh?” 

“As soon as you left the office, I pulled up everything I could find. You’re a dangerous man with an interesting portfolio of business.”

“Then you know exactly why I want your services.” 

She crossed her arms. “That’s not what you wanted from me last night.” 

Why had she said that? 

Tommy crossed the room in quick steps. He braced his hands on the window on either side of her head, effectively boxing her in. She swallowed thickly as his cerulean eyes snared her again. 

“I still want that, love. Been thinking about bendin’ you over that desk, flippin’ your skirt up and fuckin’ you. Wanna hear your voice shout me name as I make you come on my cock.” 

“Oh.” 

He chuckled darkly at her reply. Her mind was filled with nothing but white noise. Then she felt his nose along her neck, felt the faintest press of his lips to her skin. 

“Smell bloody amazing.” 

“Tommy - ”

He pulled back. She noted his dilated pupils, the way his breath wasn’t quite even. Knowing she affected him made her feel a bit smug, especially because he utterly destroyed her, kept her completely unbalanced. 

“Work for me, Mackenzie.” 

“You’re a liability.” 

“I’m a businessman who could provide access to other businessmen with interestin’ portfolios.” 

“I know something about those other businessmen. I run a security company, and you’re too big a risk. You’re just as likely to make friends as you are enemies. Some of your friends are, have been, and likely will be your enemies…again. I can’t take on your business and then take on the business of someone you’re doing work with because when one or both of you decides to go to war, I’m caught in the middle, knowing too much for either party to be completely comfortable.” 

Mac took a breath and walked over to where Zeus had settled himself on the couch. Sitting next to him, she scratched behind his ears. 

“I know that look,” she said, watching Tommy pull a cigarette from his pocket. “You’re going to assure me there won’t be a war, but I know that look in your eye. Man like you gets bored easily, so you like war because it keeps your mind occupied. Then you’ll tell me, or even better, you’ll promise me that I won’t be caught in the middle. Or that you’ll protect me. Use last night as an example of your expert protection skills.” 

“Got me all figured out then ‘ave you?” 

She smiled at him. “Wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t have a decent start at it.” 

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

It was like whiplash keeping up with this man. She’d always been good at solving puzzles, and filling in the missing pieces, but every time she thought Tommy would zig, he’d zag and she wasn’t prepared for it. 

“Friday.” 

“I haven’t said yes.” 

Tommy rolled the unlit cigarette along his bottom lip. He pointed at her with it as he moved towards the door. One hand on the knob, he glanced at her from over his shoulder. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

 Mac didn’t hear anything from any Shelby for the next twenty-four hours, and she allowed herself to believe she wasn’t a little disappointed about it. Not that Tommy had been too far from her mind. No. She continued to run various searches on the Shelby family and their known associates. Just as she’d suspected with her initial background run, he was a ruthless businessman in both his legal and less legal dealings. He’d been in business with Alfie Solomons, Darby Sabini - betrayed them both, gone back to work with Solomons. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her laptop and pushed back from the desk. Standing at the window, she glanced down at the cafe. Maybe she could change her career. Reinvent herself and move back to the States, put the charm of London behind her. 

With a sigh, she moved back to her desk. She wouldn’t leave; it would feel too much like giving up. The knock on her door caught her off guard. Looking down at the clock on her desk, she muttered a curse under her breath. So caught up in her wayward thoughts, she was completely unprepared for her two-o’clock appointment. 

Smoothing down her skirt as she moved to the door, Mac reminded herself that she was a goddamned professional and opened the door with a bright smile on her face. 

“Hi, please come in.” 

Her two-o’clock smiled at her, and she swore there was something familiar about the look of his face, the cut of his suit. Shaking it off, she rounded her desk and took a seat at her desk. Opening her laptop as he situated him across from her, she quickly glanced through the notes she’d prepared for this meeting. 

“Hi, Mr. Gray. Welcome to Stronghold. Can I offer you a coffee or tea before we get started?” 

There. She could be a professional. 

He flashed a smile at her and she had to blink to dissipate the overlay of Tommy’s face that came to her mind. Maybe she should have let him fuck her over her desk, then she get him out of her system. She frowned at the thought, not sure she wanted him completely out of her system. Focus. Damnit. 

“Tea would be lovely, thanks. And please, call me Michael.” 

Pressing the intercom on her phone, she waited for Katie to answer.

“Yes, Miss Theil?”

“Hi Katie, can I please get a cup of tea for Mr. Gray and I could use another coffee while you’re at it, thanks.”

“Be right in with that.” 

Mac pulled a notebook and pen in front of her and looked up at her potential client. 

“While we wait, Michael, why don’t you tell me a bit about the company, the needs, and any budgetary concerns you might have. We personalize all of our services here to best meet the needs of each client we sign on.” 

“‘Course.” He pulled a file from his briefcase and handed it to her. 

Taking it from him, Mac felt her eyes grow comically wide as she took in the company name in bold font on the front page. Glancing up at Michael Gray, she noted a familiar grin tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

Before she could say anything, Katie came in with their drinks. She forced a smile as her assistant placed a fresh mug of coffee on her desk, and - not for the first time this week - she wished she kept a bottle of something strong in her desk. When the door clicked closed, she pushed away from the desk and stood to her feet. 

“I’ve already given Mister Shelby my answer.” 

“Didn’t even read the offer.” 

Lips pursed, she glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, and from the way he’d settled himself into the chair, he had no intention to leave. 

“Gray your actual last name, or did you make it up to get an appointment?” 

A full grin split his face. “Why would I lie about me name?” 

“You’re a Shelby.” 

“Cousin.” 

“Ah.”

“Hear me out, alright? Before you throw me out on my arse.” 

She felt her shoulders slump. If she asked him to leave now, she had a strong feeling that he’d be back. Or one of the other brothers, or another cousin. Given what she’d learned about the family, it wouldn’t at all surprise her if Tommy filled her entire schedule with brothers, cousins, friends until she capitulated. She sat back down.

“Outlined in there,” Michael gestured towards the folder. “Is a business offer that would have any other security firm creamin’ their pants to sign. As you might have gathered, Tommy’s not used to havin’ someone tell ‘im no.” 

“Being told no is character building.” 

Michael laughed. “See why he likes you.” 

Mac took a gulp of her coffee, pretended it didn’t scald her. Fuck, it was hot. 

“I understand you have some reservations about our business operations and the impact it would have on your firm’s reputation and current client base.” 

It was Mac’s turn to smirk. “Ah. You’re the good cop.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“The brothers came into my office like a deleted scene from The Godfather and when that didn’t work, they send in their consigliare to make nice. Deal of this size would take approval from all the officers, and the CFO - ” she looked at him meaningfully. “Would likely have the most to say given the financial impacts.” 

“Fuck Tommy, I like you, Miss Theil.” 

“Mac.” 

Her correction was automatic, and even as she said it, she remained unsure as to why she’d invited him to address her so informally. Never one to stand on ceremony, she often had people address her by her first name. Katie insisted on Miss Theil because it sounded more professional. Rubbish, but it made Katie happy, so she’d stopped fighting that battle months ago. 

“I’ll be honest, Mac. I didn’t want this deal. When Tommy first brought it to me, I thought he was mad or drunk. We don’t take payment like that, especially not from women. Rodney Bouchard’s a fuckin’ cunt. It would be stupid to have the company further involved with his family, right? Then, I looked into your company. You’ve an impressive background for an American.” 

Mac flipped him off. 

Michael laughed. 

“Oh my god,” Mac exclaimed, dropping her hand. 

“That was fuckin’ brilliant, sweetheart, don’t be apologizin’.”

“It was unprofessional.”

Michael stopped laughing, looked at her with the most serious look she’d seen on his face since he’d walked through her door. 

“It was honest.” 

She nodded. 

“Look at page five.” 

Flipping through the pages, she stopped on page five and read through the impressive listing of businesses and holdings. 

“Now, page ten.” 

The number on the page had to be a joke. No way anyone would pay that for what her company did.

“You’re insane.” 

“We pay a good price for a good product.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Should be enough to cover any concerns you might have about doin’ business with Shelby Brothers Limited.”

“It’s not what’s listed that I have concerns about.” 

“We’d only expect you to work with the businesses listed.” 

Mac nodded. “Just me knowing you have business that aren’t listed is a security risk, something easily exploitable by…competitors.” 

“For what we’d pay you,” Michael said with a wink. “We’d expect you to sort all that out before it became a problem.” 

“I’m not fucking omniscient.” 

“I’ve a second proposal prepared for you, one that lists all of the Company’s assets complete with a new number adjusted for the increase in workload.” 

“What you already gave me would require a dedicated team, full time.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t do exclusive contracts.” 

Michael pulled the second contract from his briefcase and slid it across her desk. Mac glared down at it as though she could light it on fire with her eyes. 

“Look it over. I understand why you have reservations ‘bout working for us, but Tommy takes the safety of his employees seriously. He’d protect you.”

Mac chuckled. “There it is.” 

“Wot?”

“Told Tommy not two days ago that he’d make some sort of offer about protecting me.” Mac paused. “There it is.” 

“We make better friends than we do enemies.” 

Mac narrowed her eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely not. Tommy’d bloody well hang me by me balls if I did. What I’m sayin’ is our enemies know how powerful we are. You’d be safe.” 

Flashes of the Rodney holding a gun to Zeus’ head flashed behind her eyes. They couldn't even properly protect her from her own family. No. This was madness. Nothing good would come from taking either of the offers on her desk, no matter how tempting they were. 

“Think about it, Mac.” 

Michael stood from the chair and headed for the door. He paused, glanced over his shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Enjoy your date with Tommy.” 

“Fuck me.”

Part 3

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313

[munson-blurbs]

TUI7

OKAY MARION, THATS IT.

Our boy is so sad, Ms. Sweetheart, make him feel better fast!!😩

Okay so now I wanna square up with Marion AND H’s mom…. Line em up!

“But where the fuck was I? On the road, thinking I could be a rockstar and take care of a family. If I had stayed back, I could’ve stopped her. I would’ve seen that she wasn’t just doing it at parties or shows; she was an addict. I could’ve gotten her help; I could’ve saved my son from being born a goddamn coke addict!” 😭😭

“Harris’s mom is an atrocious excuse for a human being, and so is Ms. Marion?” <- PREACH

“Look, I’m not saying the Cat-and-Mouse is the nicest thing to do,” he interrupts, cheeks aflame at the mere mention of it, “but I guess it really fucked with me for someone I…someone I just met…to call me stupid.” <- But boy, you were acting stupid. 😒

“Eddie flinches, but not for the reason you think. No, it’s because he hates that you’re fearful of his reaction. He hates that he’s made you afraid of him.”

At this, you giggle. “Eddie, you’re not paying me to work with my,” you lower your voice mid-protest, even though the door is closed and no one else is around, “favorite student.” <- 🥰 Like everyone doesn’t know 😏

He walked her to her car😍

He knows it’s not correct, and you watch as his shoulders begin to slump dejectedly. “I…I don’t know.” His lower lip juts out, quivering as he admits it. SWEET BABY HARRIS, EVERYTHING IS FINE!!!!😩

“It’s a princess.” His eyes flit between you and the pink poofy dress-clad cartoon. “Me an’ Daddy think you’re pretty like a princess.” Harris Munson you work that wingman magic. ✨

“No worries,” Eddie waves off your concern, scooping Harris up and resting him against his hip. “Harris can sit on my lap.” “Or I can sit on Ms. Sweetheart’s lap!” Harris squeals, wriggling out of his dad’s grasp. “Or Ms. Sweetheart can sit on your lap!”

you know damn well Mac Daddy Wayne is helping this kid try to get his dad a date. 🤣😂

Eddie helping rescue Grandma and listening to her give him the same compliment over and over. 💚

He smacks the sponge against a plate and harshly brushes it up and down, still staring at you. “Oops,” he deadpans, rinsing it and haphazardly placing it in the dishrack before picking up another one. “Oops again.” This menace of a man 😍

“I don’t usually have anyone to talk to at night, either. And with Harris–I mean, I love him to fuckin’ death, but a guy can only hear so much about the latest episode of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.” (As a nanny, I can confirm.😂) He clears his throat, but the words come out even softer somehow. “I like talking to you.” 😍🥰 I ALMOST CAN’T STAND THE CUTENESS, YOUR HONOR.

Using Harris to hand off notes!?! 😚🤌🏼

BUG!!!! These chapters some how get better and better and I have no idea how it’s possible. 😩 So much love fluff stuffed into this chapter and I love it. Absolutely adore how Eddie was about to break down and went to the one person he knew would make him feel safe. 🥺 I love this series so much!!! I obviously can’t wait for the next part but you know I will wait for however long it takes. 😂 LOVE YOU AND THIS STORY, BUG!!!💚🥰😘

B, the way I look forward to your post-chapter messages...your feedback means everything to me!

Feeling safe and vulnerability are a huge theme in this series. Both Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart have walls up, afraid to let people see their vulnerable sides, and it is super satisfying to watch them gradually bring their walls down until I ruin it again.

And, yes, Harris and Wayne are the true MVPs of this series, and I will not stand for any opposing opinions.

Love you moreeeeee!

[emptymanuscript]

*le sigh* another key has given out on my mac. I have to stab both T and H now for them to register now. Just need the E to give out and I'll have a whole basic word out :/

I know I should bite the bullet and just get a new laptop, it is 6 years old with multiple replaced parts already. But I LIKE this laptop. They don't make this configuration any more. I know I'm the only person in the world who liked the touch bar but *whine* *bitch* *moan* etc.

And new macs are so damn expensive :(

:/ I suppose I could switch over to my windows machine :/ but see above *whine* *bitch* *moan* etc. I don't like that computer. I just sit around being annoyed with it for not being like I want my computers to be these days. For having been a windows user most of my life, I sure do hate all the recent iterations.

Bleh. Stab the keys harder I guess.

[ad-ciu]

In transactions of the killkenny archaeological society volume 1-2 1853 , Eugene O kearney known forger writes that there exists a manuscript called "achievements of the seven celebrated irishman in the East under command of Royal champion Conall Kernach" he writes not about the manuscript but about an interperlation. Of the manuscript content all he says is that the interperlation occurs after Manannan mac Lir instructs Cuchulainn to use Gae Bolg crafted from a serpent that lived in Loch-na-niath near Manannans house in Armenia". It seems to be the origin for Lady Gregory mentioning it.

Do you think the manuscript exists or existed ? If nor was it just a forgery and how much damage do you think O'kearney did to irish folklore

What a profoundly interesting question! Thank you for bringing this to my attention Anon!

I generally don't deal with material after the 16th century asides from short dalliances here and there, so I had not heard of this O'Kearney before (for those curious, he appears to have used a pen name, Nicolás Ó Cernaigh, and this is the article anon is referring to).

I can't really say anything definitive (.i. beyond my vibes on the matter) in regards to the possibility if this manuscript existed or not. It is just very outside my wheelhouse. While some of the material O'Kearney puts forward in his note appears plausible based on some of the things I know about the Ulster Cycle in the 19th century (ex: the description of the gáe bolga sounds a lot like the 'stingray spear' idea that has been discussed by Edward Pettit's 'Cú Chulainn's gae bolga: from harpoon to stingray spear,' Studia Hibernica 41 (2015): 9-48) or earlier (the idea that Conall is operating outside Ireland kicks around in medieval Ireland, which I discussed in my MA thesis on the topic), it could simply be him incorporating actual folk material into his fiction to give it plausibility.

What I would say is that how he is representing buada here is pretty weird. Unless there was a significant change in how they were being imagined in the late Early Modern heroic cycles, it looks like a red flag to me. I can't think of any objects being ascribed buada, and the buada we do see are... not supernatural powers? I suppose some of them might be (the buada of seeing in TBDD for instance is pushing it), but a lot of them are just 'this person ROCKS at this thing'. It looks like he is interpreting it as a word like 'enchantment' or something, which is not what I would be used to with the medieval material. However, it is very possible for terms like this to experience shifts. If you are in the International Celtic Congress this year, you will hear me talk about clessa and how they change over time in the tradition.

Further, again, I am a medievalist so maybe this isn't as odd to a late early modernist, but this interpolation being in Latin seems super weird?

[A further detail, @irelandseyeonmythology just noted to me that it looks like there's a very basic translation issue. The title of the manuscript, according to this gentleman, was 'an t-oc(h)tar Gaedil', and somehow took that to mean seven and not eight. They similarly noted that the use of Latin seems really odd for the period.]

This sort of thing is, of course, the problem with forgers and other forms of academic dishonesty. The moment someone dabbles in it, every piece of their work is now under extreme scrutiny and can't receive the benefit of the doubt. While, personally, I would love for there to be an entire manuscript about Conall (though I would find it strange for there to be a single-text manuscript, unless that was a popular thing in the late Early Modern Irish period or something?), I would have to say that we should assume that this is a fiction. Especially as he (seems to?) be trying to use the interpolation as part of a defense against accusations that he was making things up.

I am, of course, not a folklorist. I'm a medievalist. So, I can't really say anything in regards to the damage he has done to Irish folklore. I would leave any true judgement to an actual folklorist, rather than myself who has no qualifications to make such a call. However, if my wholly unqualified opinion on this is of interest, based on my experience, there's a long list of people I would put ahead of him.

[Again, a further detail, @irelandseyeonmythology noted that it looks like this idea didn't have much traction, as there is only one reference to this article, found in vol. 15-16 of The Modern Language Review (p. 78)]

Anyways, all of that aside, thank you for asking me about this! What a lovely way to conclude my weekend. This was really interesting!

[the-firebird69]

Massive civil fraud verdict against Trump gets frosty reception at New York appeals court - POLITICO

the bonod means he is one who ducks says he loses to win. posted by the mac proper he paid it yes and it means to use it on him.

there are a lot more points. however the law states you cannot over inflate the value. the buren of proof is on the defendent to prove they did ont inflate it not that they did it adn nothing happned an open admission of brekin the law does inino way imply innocence and it is a given usully but they can rpesent the arguement as it could becomea landmark case which allows fraud in land value assesments. and admitted fraud. now one thinig for it to be argued but they admitted they did inflate it and broke the law knowingly. and for reasons of obtaining loans and said it it is not wroth that much and evidence presented. lost that argumetn they did.

and it is odd. he did not say it is worth more. nope and it is. but the court h eard him adimit it. now they want to go to court and say they defrauded the courts and admit it and overstated it nobody was harmed. and no you dont hv to be sic and such you had to have teken losses and that route is clearly visible and possible circles sink ornot. and yeh you threaten its value . in other words we see yuo dont get it you have to argue nobody lost not ws harmed they mean monetrily you oaf.

ten dollars will count yes. true too the court means it. and the loss by the public can be counted turmp is a bumb and does not help the community and he committed fraued where someone more scritble might build bulidngs to promote jobs and health he did not. does not...striek two in this simply confused court of no ethics and no values and no laws. as seen in trummps new cities that fall due to evil and debochery and use of his own techniques to rpove a point on him.

further yur a rude scofflaw trump. on top a traitor to your kiind. and mean to me and i have you hit a lot. you shall die for your constant insolence. and no yu shall not hve cities and iam taking m personal affects back. some right off your stupid back. and your family comments and inslts so i have them KILLED. ok you oaf. and a few more potshots at you you drop out of the race and ohhh ducking you love it. like duck dynasty you see...faggot

Zues

and convince him to give up and good mb we see though he has no case if he proceeds he ewill lose the community lost wiht his construction and withers and would be better plus lost ten bucks and we look and the money ercent is low about one opercent. and he made tons. so it works for me andno you had a few pay tons and the p ublic went hungry so shut up ok shut up get lost or else trump

Hera

no but ok you sink me true he says and soon i enter hell real h ell. and figure out who he is. good. this blows his is the worst they say and i dont see ti hahahah loltheraten me with a sniper and i pay you back shit...and oh ok. blood ddrawn has meaning. this blows and toomyy f and ok this sucks..and i see. this blows. and shot me in iraq this sucks and i wint no win no iddi nto say it and at you and shti ahahahah lol go f off you idiot you andle tommy f ok hahah and this blwos i should have listned

was killed by him he shoots at me damnit

trump

out then or i hit you

tommy f

no

trump

hahah your a loser then

tommy f

Olympus

[rowan-blood]

Deirdre and Naoise

Deirdre

Deirdre (/ˈdɪərdrə, -dri/ DEER-drə, -⁠dree, Irish: [ˈdʲɛɾʲdʲɾʲə]; Old Irish: Derdriu [ˈdʲerʲðrʲĭŭ]) is a tragic heroine in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology. She is also known by the epithet "Deirdre of the Sorrows" (Irish: Deirdre an Bhróin).

Deirdre was the daughter of the royal storyteller Fedlimid mac Daill. Before she was born, Cathbad the chief druid at the court of Conchobar mac Nessa, king of Ulster, prophesied that Fedlimid's daughter would grow up to be very beautiful, but that kings and lords would go to war over her, much blood would be shed because of her, and Ulster's three greatest warriors would be forced into exile for her sake.

Hearing this, many urged Fedlimid to kill the baby at birth, but Conchobar, aroused by the description of her future beauty, decided to keep the child for himself. He took Deirdre away from her family and had her brought up in seclusion by Leabharcham, a poet and wise woman, and planned to marry Deirdre when she was old enough. As a young girl, living isolated in the woodlands, Deirdre told Leabharcham one snowy day that she would love a man with the colours she had seen when a raven landed in the snow with its prey: hair the color of the raven, skin as white as snow, and cheeks as red as blood.

Leabharcham told her she was describing Naoise, a handsome young warrior, hunter and singer at Conchobar's court. With the collusion of Leabharcham, Deirdre met Naoise and they fell in love. Accompanied by his brothers Ardan and Ainnle (the other two sons of Uisneach), Naoise and Deirdre fled to Scotland. They lived a happy life there, hunting and fishing and living in beautiful places; one place associated with them is Loch Etive. Some versions of the story mention that Deirdre and Naoise had children, a son, Gaiar, and a daughter, Aebgreine, who were fostered by Manannan Mac Lir.

A painting of Deirdre in A book of myths (1915), by Helen Stratton.

However, the furious, humiliated Conchobar tracked them down. He sent Fergus mac Róich to them with an invitation to return and Fergus's own promise of safe conduct home. On the way back to Emain Macha, Conchobar had Fergus waylaid, forced by his personal geis (an obligation) to accept an invitation to a feast.

Fergus sent Deirdre and the sons of Uisneach on to Emain Macha with his son to protect them. When they arrived, Conchobar sent Leabharcham to spy on Deirdre, to see if she had lost her beauty. Leabharcham, to protect Deirdre, told the king that Deirdre was now ugly and aged. Conchobar then sent another spy, Gelbann, who managed to catch a glimpse of Deirdre but was seen by Naoise, who threw a gold chess piece at him and put out his eye.

The spy managed to get back to Conchobar, and told him that Deirdre was as beautiful as ever. Conchobar called his warriors to attack the Red Branch house where Deirdre and the sons of Uisneach were lodging. Naoise and his brothers fought valiantly, aided by a few Red Branch warriors, before Conchobar evoked their oath of loyalty to him and had Deirdre dragged to his side. At this point, Éogan mac Durthacht threw a spear, killing Naoise, and his brothers were killed shortly afterward.

Fergus and his men arrived after the battle. Fergus was outraged by this betrayal of his word, and went into exile in Connacht. He later fought against Ulster for Ailill and Medb in the war of the Táin Bó Cúailnge (the Cattle Raid of Cooley), sometimes referred to as "the Irish Iliad".

Deirdre's Lament, drawing by J. H. Bacon, c. 1905

After the death of Naoise, Conchobar took Deirdre as his wife. After a year, angered by Deirdre's continuing coldness toward him, Conchobar asked her whom in the world she hated the most, besides himself. She answered "Éogan mac Durthacht", the man who had murdered Naoise. Conchobar said that he would give her to Éogan. As she was being taken to Éogan, Conchobar taunted her, saying she looked like a ewe between two rams. At this, Deirdre threw herself from the chariot, dashing her head to pieces against a rock.

_________________________

Naoise

In Irish mythology, Naisi, Noíse or Noisiu (modern spelling: Naoise [ˈn̪ˠiːʃə]) was the nephew of King Conchobar mac Nessa of Ulster, and a son of Uisneach (or Uisliu). He is mentioned in the tale known as the Tragic Tale of the Sons of Uisnech, or Exiles of the Sons of Uisnech, usually found within the set of stories in the Táin Bó Cúailnge, part of the Ulster Cycle. In the tale he becomes the lover of Deirdre, a woman of great beauty, who is also desired by the king of Ulster Conchobar mac Nessa, and so the lovers go with Naoise's two brothers into exile in Scotland (Alba). Eventually, Conchobar seeks to get them to return, but a series of unfortunate events (including a geas placed on Fergus mac Róich their protector and escort, as well as Naoise and his brothers' repeated disregard for Deirdre's prophetic warnings) and the treachery of Conchobar brought on by his desire for Deirdre, leads to tragedy. The tale climaxes with battle at the Red Branch house at Emain Macha, with many dead including Naoise, his brothers Ainle and Ardan, and Conchobar's son Fiacha. Ultimately the sons of Uisnech are killed in one blow delivered by Maine Red Hand son of the King of Norway (or by Éogan mac Durthacht depending on source). The whole event leads to considerable strife between Ulster and Connacht, the disinheritance of Conchobar and his descendants to the title King of Ulster, and the destruction of Emain Macha.

Naoise's and Deirdre's story appears in the Táin Bó Cúailnge (Cattle raid of Cooley), in the story part sometimes entitled "The Tragical Death of the Sons of Usnach". The following summary is based on the translations of Whitley Stokes and O'Flanagan edited in (Hull 1898), Naoise here rendered as Naisi in the text :

When Deirdre was born, Cathbad the druid named her, and prophesied that she would cause much trouble and strife - on hearing this the assembled lords would have had her killed then, but king Conchobar prevented it and decided to have her brought up in seclusion, and that when she was old enough, he would marry her. She grew up to outshine other women of the time in beauty.

One snowy day when she saw her foster father kill a calf, on which a raven fell to drink the animals blood - she said she wanted a husband who had in him the three colors she saw - hair the color of the raven, cheeks red like the calf's blood, and skin the color of snow. She was told that such a man existed in the house of Conchobar - named Naisi (Naoise), son of Usnach, son of Conall Flatnailed, son of Rury the Great. She asked that she might speak with him, in secret. Naisi met with her, and she declared her love for him, and asked to elope, which he agreed to, though he was tardy to carry out, for fear of Conchobar.

Naoise carrying Deirdre, along with his two brothers. Illustration by John D. Batten in Celtic Fairy Tales (1892).

Thus Naisi and his two brothers, Ainle and Ardan, together with and one hundred and fifty warriors, went to Scotland and entered the paid service of the King of Scotland. The Scottish King heard of Deirdre's great beauty and too tried to get her for himself, on which Naisi and his brothers left for an island in the sea, after many battles with the king's men.

Conchobar was at another feast with his people, and asked them if they wanted for anything. They replied they had no want, except the loss of their kinsmen Naisi, Ainle, and Ardan - because of the woman Deirdre. Having heard this Conchobar decided to send an envoy. However Naisi was prohibited from returning to Ireland except with either Cúchulainn, Conall Cernach, or Fergus mac Ross. Conchobar chose Fergus to go fetch for them.

Fergus journeyed to Loch Etive in Alba (Scotland), and found the hunting lodges of the Naisi and his two brothers, but there was no recent sign of them. Fergus then went to the harbor and made a loud call for them, which was heard by Naisi and Deirdre. Naisi said he had heard an Irish voice, and so had Deirdre, but she lied and said she thought it was a Scottish voice. Fergus called again, and the same happened; and then a third time, and Naisi became sure it was Fergus' voice and asked Ardan to go and meet him.

Deirdre confessed that she had recognized the voice, but concealed the truth as she had a vision the previous night, of three birds from Emain Macha bringing honey in their beaks but returning with blood in their beaks - she interpreted this as meaning that the messenger came with a false promise of peace. Nevertheless, they greeted Fergus warmly, and he then told him of his task as envoy, to make them return to Ulster. The exiles spoke of their missing Ireland, but Deirdre still did not wish to go out of worry - Fergus promised he would give them his protection against any in Ireland, and so Naisi agreed to return.

On the way they came to the fort of Borrach (son of Annte). Borrach welcomed them, and offered a feast (as Conchobar had instructed him to do), but placed Fergus under a geasa not to leave the feast until it was finished. Fergus became flustered, telling Borrach that he had promised to bring the three back to Emain Macha on the same day that they returned to Ireland. Fergus decided to stay at the feast and send his own two sons with the returning exiles back to Emain Macha.

The exiles left Borrach's place. Deirdre counseled Naisi to stay at the island of Cuilenn, but Fergus's sons (Illann the Fair, and Buinne the Ruthless Red) spoke against it. Then they went to the White Cairn of Watching on Slaib Fuad, but Deirdre fell behind, and fell asleep. Naisi turned back and found her as she awoke from a dream. She told Naisi of her dream - in it she sees Naisi and Illann headless, but Buinne not with them. Next the party went to Ard na Sailech. Again Deirdre had premonitions, envisioning a 'cloud of blood' over Naisi, Ainle, and Ardan's head. She counselled that they should go to Dún Delgan (Dundalk) and stay until Fergus could join them, or seek Cúchulainn as escort, but the brothers were not worried, and did not follow her advice.

They then went straight to Emain Macha. On reaching it Deirdre foretold a way they could tell whether or not Concobar would do them ill - if they were invited into Cochobar's house they were safe, but if they were invited into the house of the Red Branch without Concobar then evil was intended for them.

At Emain Macha they knocked, and on telling the doorman who it was Concobar said to send them to the Red Branch house. Deirdre suggested they leave, but the men would not, lest they be called timid. They entered the house of the Red Branch, and were served with great food and drink - all the servants drank and ate and became merry, but the exiles would not eat or drink. Naisi then called for Concobar's chessboard (the Cennchaem) to be brought so they could play - at the same time Conchobar inquired of Deirdre, asking if she was still so beautiful. Concobar's envoy (Levarcham) returned and told him who was there, and that Deirdre was changed from when she left.

Conchobar sent messengers to tell him of Deirdre's appearance twice more. Then he spoke to Tréndorn saying "do you know who killed my father (and three brothers)?" - Tréndhorn replied it was Naisi - then Conchobar sent him report on Deirdre's appearance. As he spied through a window he was spotted, and Naisi threw a chess piece at him so well he lost an eye - he returned to Conchobar and told him "The woman whose form and feature are loveliest in the world is there, and Naisi would be king of the world if she were left to him." Conchobar became enraged and ordered an assault on the Red Branch house.

A the house Conchobar and his men, and the Naisi and his exchanged words, then fighting began. Buinne slew many of Conchobar's men, but Conchobar asked his price, and bribed him with land, and he deserted his companions. The Illann came forth and killed many of Conchobar's men, and would not take a bribe like his brother. Conchobar asked for his own son Fiacha, born on the same night as Illann. He gave Fiacha his arms, but after a hard fight, Illann won. Conchobar's shield made a great sound when its wielder was in distress, and Conall son of Amargin heard it, thinking Conchobar was in need, and came - seeing the scene of the battle he took his spear (Culghlas) and killed Illann. Wounded, Illann asked who had done it, and told them he was there to guard Naisi and his brothers - on hearing this Conall was sorry, and killed Fiacha in revenge. Illann called Naisi to the fight, then died.

Ardan defended the Red Branch house on the first night, slaying many; the next night Ainle defended; on the third night Naisi defended, also killing many attackers. The three then formed a shield around Deirdre, and leapt outside the walls of Emain. Concobar told his druid Cathbad to put an enchantment on the escapees, stating that if he did so he would not harm the. Cathad conjured water to prevent them. Concobar then called for someone to kill Naisi but none from Ulster would. However one Maine Red-hand from Norway, whose father and brothers had been killed by Naisi, was willing to do the beheading.

Ardan said he should die first, as the youngest, but Ainle offered himself; Naisi gave his exceptional sword, which was from Manannán mac Lir himself, to Maine, and Maine killed all three with it, in one blow. Deirdre kissed her dead husband and drank his blood, and sang a long lament. She then flung herself into Naisi's grave and died.

Cathbad cursed Emain Macha because of the evil of that day, and said that neither Conchobar nor his descendants would ever possess it again. Fergus came the next day, and saw the disaster, and (together with Cormac conloinggeas and Dubhtach daelultach) gave battle to Conchobar, brought the destruction of Emain Macha, together with Conchobar's women. Fergus then sought aid from Ailill King of Connacht, and Maeve the queen. Much of Ulster was raided or destroyed, with hostilities continuing for several years.