#She should be in jail and her kids away from her what the fuck

[ilikeevilblondes]

World’s Worst Chauffeur

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Joel Miller, your dad's best friend, ends up getting roped into picking you up from a party. Without the key to unlock your house or anybody to let you inside, Joel offers to let you sleep at his place for the night. Needless to say, the both of you don't do a lot of sleeping.

TL;DR: You convince old man Joel to dick you down.

W.C: ~6.2k

Warnings: dbf!Joel, unprotected p-in-v sex, praise AND degradation (whoops), big fat age gap (Joel is around 50, reader is 21), daddy kink for a sec soz, aftercare, slight size kink, cunnilingus through panties, cunnilingus, dry-humping, couch sex (no outbreak!)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62586064

Note: hey y'all, trying my hand at joel miller smut because i saw an edit of pedro pascal and literally licked the fucking screen protector, so i guess that's god's sign of telling me to write filthy shit. anyway, hope you enjoy! wrote this instead of a politics essay #yolo

“C’mon, Joel.” Your dad sighed, meeting his best friend’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

“Look, I—”

“Just this once. Please. I really can’t get out of this meeting, the board would kill me. Especially with the damn FTC breathing down our necks.”

You were visiting your hometown for Spring Break. Tomorrow night, there was going to be a party in a town fifteen minutes away from your own—one that you had been invited to. Your dad was supposed to give you a ride home, but as always, there was some last-minute work emergency. So, Joel was his solution.

The aforementioned solution frowned, crossing his large arms over his plaid torso.

“I got better things to do than chauffeur your little girl.” Joel shrugged.

That was, in fact, horribly untrue. His agenda for that night consisted of re-watching one of the Die Hard’s and drinking a nice, cold Coors.

“I’ll owe you one.” Your dad insisted.

“Desperate ain’t a good look on you, buddy.” Joel cracked a small smile.

Your dad ignored this jab.

“Joel, we’ve been friends for almost two decades. You’ve let me borrow your car, helped me paint my house more times than I can count, and even bailed me out of jail when I sped down the interstate.” He counted the feats off his fingers. “But picking my kid up is where you draw the line? Come on.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth.

The real reason he maintained his firm stance on not giving you a lift home was, really, a bundle of three smaller reasons.

One, ever since you turned eighteen you’ve made it painstakingly and increasingly clear you wanted to get in his pants.

Two, you were a huge flirt.

Three, he wasn’t so sure he could keep on resisting. But he had to. For god’s sake, what kind of a friend would bone his friend’s daughter?

Hopefully, not him.

“I–” Joel began but was shortly interrupted.

"I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You’re picking up my kid. She has no one else, and I don’t trust her friends to be sober enough to get her home without getting in some kind of drunk-driving accident."

He levelled Joel with a firm look.

"So, are you picking her up, or should I expect to see her name in tomorrow’s obituary because one of her little buddies got behind the wheel after doin’ a keg stand, or a gazillion games of beer pong or I don’t know—fuckin’ ‘Cheers to the Governor’?”

Your dad stared him down with an expectant look.

Joel took a second to process this.

He rubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and then met his friend’s stare with a sigh.

“Fine.” Came through gritted teeth.

Your dad patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He chirped happily.

———

And so, there Joel was.

Leaning against his old Chevrolet, idly spinning his keys around his finger, and staring at the front door of the party.

Several kids filtered out; stumbling into worn Honda Civics with disgruntled parents waiting in the driver’s seats, or with their arms interlocked and their sides almost melded together, giggling off to god-knows-where.

When you came out, you were part of the latter group.

Some blonde-haired boy—tall, but not too tall—was holding you close to him with a stupid smile on his reddened face. You mirrored it with a stupider smile of your own.

He whispered something into your ear that made you laugh and was promptly leading you in the opposite direction of Joel. But Joel was both keen and quick to intervene.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Joel called out, crossing his arms.

You froze and turned your head to lock eyes with none other than Joel Miller. Your neighbour, your dad’s best friend, and more importantly, your long-time crush.

“What are you doing here?” You arched a brow, slipping away from your friend and nearing him and his truck.

Your friend followed after you and settled by your side, resting an arm that hung a little too comfortably around your shoulder.

“Evenin’ to you, too, sweetheart. And to answer your question, I’m pickin’ you up.” Joel stated simply, then tossed a quick surveying look to the guy next to you. “Who’s blondie over here?”

“Daniel.” Blondie blinked and stuck out his free hand, glancing at you. Under his breath, he muttered, “you told me your dad couldn’t give you a ride.”

“He’s not my–” You started, but were immediately cut off by Joel.

“Get your hand off the girl, will you, Derek?” Joel narrowed his eyes at him, a dangerous look underlying his seemingly casual tone.

Daniel immediately did so, going so far as to step a pace back from you.

“It’s Daniel.” He coughed awkwardly. Then added, “sir.”

Joel ignored him—or, at least, didn’t show any sign that he had heard his correction—and turned around.

“Time to go home, young lady.” Joel said lowly. He opened the front passenger door, and upon finding you in the same spot as you were standing before he had turned his back, continued with, “that wasn’t a suggestion.”

You mumbled a quick ‘goodbye’ to Daniel and hopped inside the truck.

“Good girl.” Joel sighed, closed the door with a bit too much force and walked around the front of the car. He spared a few seconds to glare at your friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Suddenly, the engine thrummed to life and the two of you were headed down quiet suburban streets in the late hours of the night, leaving what's-his-name in the dust.

The air had been thick with a tension neither of you could describe and was further blanketed by a heavy silence broken only by the hum of the engine, the faint skid of tyres against asphalt, and your own rapid heartbeat pounding insistently in your ears.

Not five minutes had passed before Joel spoke up.

“Who was he?” Joel asked casually, his eyes still focused on the dimly-lit road ahead.

You sank further into the cracked leather of the front passenger seat.

“A friend.” You shrugged, not looking over at him.

Joel hummed a non-committal noise as he carefully took a turn into a side street, the truck slowly crunching over loose gravel. His grip on the wheel remained firm, but his eyes flickered over to you.

“Your daddy let you out of the house like that?”

You huffed out a short laugh and looked down at your choice of partywear; a low-cut top and some tight-fitting jeans. Not necessarily the most vulgar apparel, in your humble opinion.

“No, actually, he called the cops on me for indecent exposure, but I managed to escape.” You spat out sarcastically.

Joel didn’t find your comment funny. Or rather, there was no indication on his unwavering poker face that he had found it funny. Or was experiencing any emotion at all other than slightly tired.

The two of you sank into yet another silence.

“I’m not a kid, Joel.” You said after a minute or two.

“Like hell, you ain’t.” Joel scoffed.

“I’m in college, I can dress how I like.”

“Is ‘how you like’ a prostitute?”

You turned to face him fully, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

“That’s both slightly misogynistic and completely off-base, don’t you think?” You snorted, then smiled smugly to yourself. “Plus. Admit it, you like it.”

That threw him off-guard.

For the first time that evening, Joel showed a sliver of emotion. His eyes widened slightly as he opened his mouth, quickly closing it, and then opening it again to say, “what the fuck are you going on about, kid?”

“You were definitely staring at my tits.”

Joel was even more taken aback. First, by your absolute gall, and second, by your accuracy. He may have snuck a peek at your cleavage, but in his head, it was very discreet. But, fuck, did they sit perfectly.

“You’re drunk.” Joel shook his head.

“You didn’t deny it.” Your smile grew. “But yes, I am a little tipsy. Not drunk, though.”

“I noticed.”

“Just say the word, Miller, and I’ll flash you the twins anytime you like.” You leaned over the control arm, your eyes travelling along his tensing frame.

“Fucking Christ.” Joel breathed. He kept his eyes fixed on the road but released a hand from the steering wheel to rub the lower half of his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to do this favour for your father. You were already a handful while sober. And you had been a handful ever since you started college—making throwaway yet entirely flirtatious comments, pressing your tits against his chest a bit too much while you lingered after a hug, and wearing the tightest clothes known to man.

And now drunk? You were literally throwing yourself at him.

The worst part was that he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to you. In fact, his jeans felt a little tighter the closer you got.

Fuck, he was more than twice your age and here he was getting a hard-on—

Joel was suddenly violently snatched from his internal monologue when he felt your hand ghost over his lap.

“That’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it…? I can help with that.” You whispered, your tone almost pleading as your fingers gently traced over the front zipper of his jeans.

“Honey, sit back down.” Joel said slowly. His eyes remained intently glued onto the road.

Jesus Christ, he was fucked.

“Joel,” You practically whined.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucked.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said, more to himself than you as some sort of ill-justified dismissal.

“Tipsy.” You corrected helpfully, yet not retreating back to your seat. “But not really.”

Before he knew it, Joel was pulling up in front of your driveway, his grip on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Joel sighed. “You’re home.”

You glanced out the window disappointedly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You replied.

Joel muttered something to himself under his breath and got out of the car, quickly appearing by your side and opening the door for you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He nodded toward your house.

You got to your feet indignantly and marched up to your porch. Joel followed after you, leaning against one of the support beams of your front awning as he watched you dig through your purse.

After a few moments of your struggle, Joel cleared his throat.

“What?”

“Can’t find my key.” You frowned.

“I’ll call your dad.”

“Not home. And won’t be, ‘till tomorrow morning. He’s in the city for some work emergency, remember?”

Joel ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, visibly mulling something over, judging by the crease in his forehead.

“And you don’t got a spare key lying around somewhere? Under a flower pot or a welcome mat or shit like that?”

You shook your head.

If Joel were a better man, he’d have caught the glimmer of an ulterior motive dancing in your mischievous eyes. He would’ve brought up the spare key given to him for emergencies—this would’ve constituted as such. And he certainly wouldn’t have said what he had next.

“You can stay the night at mine.”

You blinked up at him, your hand frozen in the opening of your purse.

Joel straightened up, taking his weight off the support beam.

“Or you can sleep outside. Up to you.”

“I’ll take option number one.”

A few minutes and a trip across the road later, Joel had wriggled his key through the entrance lock and opened the door, inviting you inside.

Joel’s two-story craftsman was cosy and lived-in. The leather couch facing a moderately-sized flat-inch was slightly worn, the coffee table was cluttered with magazines and empty cans, and standing by its lonesome in a forgotten far corner of the living room was an acoustic guitar. More importantly, his house smelled like him; like warmth and vetiver and wood.

You had been a guest at his house on several occasions, but such instances had always been with the company of your dad.

That evening you found yourself free of his presence and, coincidentally, free of a conscience.

However fortunate your moral freedom was, it was only partially incited by your father’s absence. The four lukewarm cans of Lone Star you had chugged at the party may have had more of an influence on your risqué behaviour, because you sure as hell weren’t pushing Joel down on his leather sofa and straddling his lap with complete sobriety.

Joel let you take control, placing his big hands on your waist like they were always meant to be there while you moulded yourself against him, and met your lips with equal fervour when you smashed your mouth against his.

He sighed into the kiss and gripped your waist tighter as you slipped your tongue past his lips, ignoring the slight scruff of his greying stubble rubbing against your jaw.

But it was when you began slowly rocking your hips against the tenting figure in his jeans did he suddenly remember himself and wrench his face away from yours.

“Shit.” He panted, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving as he zeroed in on your kiss-swollen lips and your half-lidded, desperate eyes.

Why the fuck did he just do that? ‘That’ being the act of letting you kiss him, but he was just as equally angered with himself for stopping.

“We shouldn’t.” He shook his head, but his eyes were focused on your pretty, slightly parted lips.

“Why not?” You sighed, leaning closer.

Joel took your chin in his hand and held you at a safe distance.

“You know fucking well why.” Joel’s voice rumbled deep with frustration.

“Give me a reason.”

“I’ll give you three: you’re drunk, you’re barely eighteen, and your father is my best friend.”

You huffed out a noise of annoyance.

“I’m a little tipsy at worst, I’m twenty-one, thank you, and my father doesn’t have to know.”

Joel’s lip twitched. You were very persistent. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with you, he just knew he had to resist whatever fucking temptation this was.

“I’m old enough to be your father, too.” Joel frowned.

“But you’re not.”

“You should want someone your own age.”

“But I don’t.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth, subconsciously nearing your face once more. “This is so wrong.”

“Just once, Joel.” You pleaded, your eyes flooded with need.

“Fuck,” Joel shook his head, his brows furrowed as he once again lost himself in how pretty your lips looked; all puffy and raw. All because of him. “Honey–”

“Just this once.” You whined prettily.

At the sound, Joel unconsciously rocked up into you. Your hands immediately went to grab his shoulders to steady yourself; feeling a little lightheaded from the mere singular action.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Fuck.” He said again, breathing slowly.

Being as old as he was, Joel never expected to relive the days of his brazen youth when his only major problem in life was cumming in his pants after a pretty girl had barely touched him.

His dark eyes finally met yours.

You held your breath.

“Just this once?” He said.

“Just this once.” You confirmed.

“You won’t … you won’t try anything again?” Joel’s eyes dropped back down to your mouth and his thumb gently traced your bottom lip. His other hand slipped from your waist to the bare small of your back from underneath your blouse.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, but you shakily nodded your head.

Joel didn’t believe you.

But, fuck it, he captured your mouth in another hungry kiss anyway, closing his eyes and holdiing you against him.

He was definitely going to hell, but he would gladly do so just knowing he had felt heaven against his lips.

And, fuck, was that an unforgettable taste.

Joel gently trailed his chapped lips down your jaw, your neck, and lingered on your pulse point, all while one hand held you by your nape and the other against the skin of your lower back, idly caressing the base of your spine with his thumb.

Instead of the white-hot passion that had initially been the catalyst for this heated night, this moment was charged with an underlying tenderness. And all you could do was throw your head back and accept his tentative indulgence.

Though by the way Joel unintentionally bucked his growing bulge against your clothed mound as he peppered the crook of your neck with open-mouthed kisses, you could tell his delicacy was largely imbued by whatever ounce of restraint he inexplicably retained and was, by no means, a testament to his true nature.

He was holding back.

“Joel?” You whispered, carding your hand through his hair.

“Mmm?” He hummed into your skin, his eyes closed in bliss.

“I want…” You began, the words dying in your throat.

What did you want?

Well, his cock, definitely. More specifically, inside of you, but you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“Words, baby.” He pressed a final kiss onto your neck and pulled away the slightest distance to meet your gaze. His eyes were wrecked with lust; half-lidded and almost entirely swallowed by his dilated pupils. He softly took your face in the hand that was formerly resting against your nape. And when he spoke, his voice was low and rich with that sweeter-than-molasses Southern drawl. “Try that again. What do you want, honey?”

“You.”

“And you have me, don't you?” Joel said distractedly, his thumb lightly tracing your lower lip. His soft, umber eyes momentarily dipped down to your mouth as if he was debating on kissing you again.

And he was. Fuck, those lips of yours.

“No, I…” You breathed, your hand coming down in between your two bodies and palming his rock-hard erection through his denim. Joel hissed. “Can I suck you off?”

Joel’s eyes widened. You certainly held no room for subtlety.

“Fuck, honey.” He huffed. “Really know how to get to the point, don’t you?”

“Can I?”

Joel hummed.

“Can I be perfectly candid, sweetheart?”

“You have my blessing.” You arched a brow.

“If you so much as breathed on my dick right now, I think this night would come to a quick and rather … anticlimactic finish.” Joel sighed, breaking into a small smile. In true dad fashion, he then added, “pun not intended.”

You granted him the reward of a snicker for his antics. Then, you leaned close to his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin.

“If I had known that all I’d get from you was a dry-humping makeout sesh, I’d have stuck with Daniel.” You sighed, as casually as you could.

Without even looking at him, you saw the jealousy morph onto his aged face.

“Get on your fucking back.” He said, his voice measured, yet somehow equally unhinged.

You stilled, not expecting that much of a reaction from him.

“I said,” Joel met your gaze, his eyes holding a dangerous promise. “Get on your fucking back, young lady.”

And that was how you found yourself lying against the arm of a sofa older than the Great Depression with your jeans discarded in a wrinkled pile somewhere and your legs spread around the owner of said ancient sofa.

Joel crouched down in front of you, with one of your legs perched on his shoulder. He pushed your shirt up past your belly button and kissed a path down to the waistband of your panties.

His hand slid up your knee, then your thigh, and then stopped right against a particularly damp spot in your underwear.

“This for me or Daniel?” Joel hummed against your lower stomach, his stare flickering up to your face.

You bit your lower lip.

“You.” You said softly.

And then Joel lowered his head and kissed the patch of arousal. And then he kissed it again and again, basically frenching your cunt through your underwear. You could feel the pressure of his tongue against your swollen clit, sliding, only by a small margin as restricted by your godforsaken panties, in between your folds—

“Say that again for me, honey? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Fuck–” You gasped at the feeling. “You, Joel!”

“That’s what I thought.”

To your displeasure, Joel stopped whatever the fuck he was doing and his eyes found yours once more.

“Need me to eat your pussy now, sweetie?”

Yes, fucking please.

You might’ve said that out loud, judging from the pleased chuckle Joel let out.

Before you knew it, Joel slid your panties off your legs (pocketing them secretly—only to wash them on your behalf, of course, nothing dirty at all on his part) and then consequently salivated at the sight of your bare cunt.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Oh, honey.” Joel sighed, barely hiding his eagerness.

“It hurts…!” You breathed, your eyes flickering down to your pulsating core; dripping wet and throbbing in anticipation of him.

“Aw, it hurts, does it? I’ll kiss it better, hm? Is that what my pretty girl wants?” Joel cooed in a falsely-sweet tone.

He then held you still by the firm grip on your waist and leaned down right in front of your slick seam.

Joel tutted as he took in your desperate scent.

“So wet for me.” He mumbled, more to himself than you.

Without warning, much less another word, Joel dipped his head down to plant a kiss directly on your swollen clit, lapping at the swelling bud.

You gasped and a hand flung down to grasp his salt-and-pepper curls.

Joel smiled against your cunt and moved further down, his tongue lazily sliding through your folds and flicking inside your velvety walls.

In response, your grip on his hair tightened and you whispered something close to his name. Or God’s. Or anyone’s, really, you were teetering on the edge of unconsciousness from the sheer intensity of the situation, you could’ve been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, for all you knew.

“Mmm... fuck, you taste good, baby.” He mumbled against your heat.

Suddenly, Joel pulled away with a wet ‘pop’ and his eyes met yours. Upon seeing your lust-blown face, he smiled through his scruff—a slight shine evident around his mouth from your slick.

“Good?” Joel mused, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your hips.

You nodded deliriously and pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt—why the fuck was he still fully dressed—to taste yourself on him.

His lips moved hungrily against yours as he licked into your mouth. You were so consumed in the kiss, you barely noticed the sound of his belt unbuckling or his zipper sliding down.

It wasn’t until you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your seam that you noticed you were, very possibly, actually going to fuck your dad’s best friend.

Or rather, he’d fuck you. As long as you were fucked, you were fucking happy.

Your eyes flickered down to his length.

“Shit.” You gasped.

You always knew Joel to be a big guy; from his broad shoulders to his massive hands—no doubt incredibly useful in his line of work as a contractor. But seeing his fucking cock? You were still somehow surprised.

“Joel, I…” You blinked. “You’re so…”

Big. He was so big.

“Oh, c’mon baby, I know you can take it,” Joel said against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll go slow at first. That sound good?”

You nodded.

In hindsight, he should’ve worked you with his fingers first. That would’ve been the first thing he’d done after tasting your delicious fucking pussy, but he got lost in how good you felt against his mouth, he was too excited to feel how you’d stretch around him.

“That’s my good girl.” Joel hummed, satisfied. “I’ve got condoms upstairs, if–”

“I have an IUD.”

The four little magic words which really meant, please Joel, fuck me raw.

Being ever the gentleman, Joel planned on doing exactly that.

“Then eyes down, sweetheart. Want you to watch how I fuck you.”

Obediently, your eyes dragged down to the sinful sight of Joel taking his cock and slapping it a few times on your pussy, before just barely sliding inside. His weeping tip easily disappeared inside you, along with an inch or two, aided by the arousal coating your entrance.

He wasn’t even halfway in, but the thickness of his cock was unlike any other you’ve felt before. And, possibly, too much for you to take.

“Too big.” You whined.

Above you, a wicked smile grew on Joel’s face.

“Too big? D’you just say it’s too big? Well, tough luck, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t stoppin’.”

Joel continued to push forward, thrusting shallowly in, retreating, and then feeding you a little more of his length at a relaxed pace.

“My good girl can take it, can’t she?” He murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. He mumbled indifferently in between tasting your sweet skin, “after all, you were the one begging me so sweetly to fuck you a little while ago. Would be a damn shame if you couldn’t follow through with your own request…”

“I can.” You affirmed, squeezing your eyes shut from the overbearing sensation of being filled by him.

“Attagirl.”

And then, to test your claim, Joel finally buried himself all the way to the hilt, his balls slapping obscenely against your ass from the movement.

“Daddy–!” You gasped, your nails digging into his back.

Joel’s lip quirked upward in a small, amused smile.

“‘Daddy’, huh? Should’ve figured.” He tutted, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You want daddy to stop?”

“N-No!”

“Then take it—” Joel thrust into you, his tip deliciously kissing your cervix. “—like a good girl.”

And then he began a steady pace. Not too slow, but fuck, did he hit deep.

You could’ve sworn you were seeing little cartoon stars dancing around your vision from the plane of pleasure you found yourself on; otherwise known as being dicked down by Joel Miller, apparently.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Joel winced, his hips stuttering.

He really should’ve stretched you out with his fingers first, but there was no way in fucking hell he was going to pull out now. Not with how perfectly your cunt was wrapping and crying around him.

In fact, you felt so good, Joel was starting to feel a familiar sensation in his lower stomach that alerted him of how close he was to prematurely spilling inside you. Turns out, his unintentional celibacy (circa the fucking creation of MySpace) had a bigger impact on him than he would’ve liked.

“Yeah? Do I feel good, daddy?”

Fuck.

Joel’s dick twitched.

If this really was going to happen ‘just once’, Joel was damned set on, firstly, fucking your brains out without coming early, and secondly, making you reach your end before he reached his. Ladies and gentlemen, chivalry was alive and well in the twenty-first century.

Thinking intently about the starting lineup for the Cowboys game that Sunday, Joel began to pick up the pace, reaching places you’ve never been aware of until that precise moment.

Mesmerised by both the slight outline of his dick in your stomach and the sheer sensation of his heavy length, you took it upon yourself to encourage a quicker speed and moved your hips in time with him.

“Mmm,” Joel inhaled sharply, locking eyes with you. “Look at you, prettly little slut. Tryna fuck me back too, huh?”

Your walls clenched around him at his words. Mean as they were, his tone was still as sweet as honey.

“‘S okay. You take what you need, babygirl.” Joel dipped his head down to suck at your pulse point as he continued sawing into your drooling cunt.

“Need more. Please.” You all but whimpered.

“My baby needs more, hm?” Joel muttered against your neck, nipping at a freshly-made hickey. You yelped in response, but Joel only grinned as he muttered to himself, “she’ll get more. Filthy fucking whore.”

And then Joel sped up his thrusts, going in and out, in and out, at a brutal pace. Salacious, wet sounds filled his living room every time he shoved his fat cock inside you. That, combined with the unabashed moans spilling from your mouth, made the whole affair seem borderline pornographic.

Not that Joel was complaining, because you sounded pretty as a peach.

“Joel!”

“Fuck, that’s it, Joel!”

“Oh, Joel, you’re fucking me so well!”

Your moans came in tandem with every stab of his cock, blabbering desperate words of praise as your walls fluttered around him.

Joel sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, scream for me. Let the neighbours hear who’s fucking you so well, hm?” Joel lazily kissed your jaw. “You close, pretty girl?”

Unable to sound anything other than nonsensical syllables or his name or ‘daddy’ upon nearing your climax, you simply shook your head in an eager nod.

So Joel kept on mentally listing the fifty states to keep from joining you, and maintained his rapid pace.

“Go on, sweet girl, come on my cock. Let go, honey, I’ll catch you. ‘M right here.” Joel murmured sweetly, caressing your flushed cheeks. A total juxtaposition to the ruthless pace his hips were setting.

In and out. In and out.

In. And. Out.

And then his hand trailed down your bare stomach, lightly spidering over the faint outline of his dick jutting in and out of you, and settling on your very sensitive swollen bundle of nerves. His hand then began generously swiping at your clit as whispered sweet words of praise into your ear.

You clutched his bicep with an iron grip as you felt your high approach.

“Joel, I’m…!”

“Yeah, come on daddy’s cock. You’re so close, baby, just let go.”

And so you did. With a scream that reached God in the high heavens above, your walls clenched around him and you were nearly knocked out from the overbearing sensation of your intense orgasm.

Joel fucked you through it, unrelenting in his devoted momentum, his tip finding your cervix with every other thrust. And he continued fucking you through it, even after the last waves of your high, letting out low groans of pleasure.

When he saw your eyes refocusing, he slowed down for a moment, as reciting the ABC’s backwards was hardly working to calm his hard length.

“Don’t stop…” You mumbled, a bit sadly.

“Baby, I got no plans of stopping anytime soon, don’t you worry.”

And to prove his point, Joel kissed your right ankle and hitched your other leg over his shoulder, practically splitting you in half as he reached deeper inside you.

If he was gonna come, so were you. If the last thing he’d get to do on this godforsaken planet was send the pretty girl bent in half underneath him into two soul-shattering orgasms, he’d die a satisfied man.

Did he also want to show off and possibly ruin you for all men? Maybe.

Fuck, yes, he did.

He wanted you to be fucking addicted to the way his cock stretched your velvety walls, because he sure as hell was.

Screw the ‘just this once’ bullshit. He was gonna fuck you every damn night from now on, if you’d let him.

“Feels so good, Joel…” You whined pathetically.

Joel hummed in a self-satisfied sort of way and began pushing up your shirt to reveal your bouncing tits and leaned down to take a pebbled nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking at the nub, and nipping at the surrounding sensitive skin.

“Oh!” You gasped, jerking your head back.

Joel took it as a sign to continue, showing the exact same attention to your other nipple and maintaining his deep and rapid thrusts, causing the springs of the couch to whine in protest with every jut of his hips.

You let out a strangled moan.

“Joel—! Joel, it’s so…!” You panted, tears collecting in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s okay. Almost there. Almost there, baby.” Joel tutted, gently swiping away your tears with his thumb as he continued to fuck you like he was an interior designer from the way he strived to rearrange your guts. “You gonna be good and come around daddy’s cock a second time?”

Your walls tightened in response and you let out a breathy whimper.

“Good girl.” He smashed his mouth against yours and swallowed your moans, his lips moving in time with his hips. “Where do you want me to…?” He mumbled against your lips, his breath mingling with your own.

“Inside.”

“Fuck, babygirl, you sure?”

“Miller, I said, inside.” You made a point to fuck yourself onto him with deep movements of your hips, displaying your intent.

“Yes ma’am.” Joel smirked, absolutely fucking pussydrunk.

With that, Joel caught your lips in another searingly intense kiss, licking into your mouth as his thrusts continued to ram into your cervix while you held onto the couch for dear life.

And if that wasn’t enough sweet torture to your poor body, Joel moved one hand above you, gently laced his fingers with yours, and brought it back down to lay flat against your clit.

“Play with that pretty pussy, baby.” He whispered against your skin, his hand moving yours encouragingly. “Need you to give me another.”

With a shaky nod, you acquiesced, toying with your clit like you had a million nights before.

Except this time, instead of imagining it, you really had Joel fucking Miller in between your legs, sawing into your cunt like he wanted to break it.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel’s mouth twitched into a slightly proud smile against your skin.

It took Joel half a dozen more stabs into your slick mound before his hips began to stutter.

And then it took three more before he buried himself completely inside, and, with a gasp of your name accompanied by an appropriate expletive, painted your walls with hot ropes of his come.

“Fuck, daddy!” You moaned, your back arching off the sofa.

At the same time, for the second time that night, no less, you felt yourself reach another mind-blowing orgasm, your walls greedily sucking him in further and shaking around his thick length.

He continued to fuck his come into you with a few more slow, but deliciously deep rolls of his hips, before he stilled inside you and fell on top of your heaving chest, letting your legs fall back onto the beaten old couch, too.

It took a few moments for both of you to steady your breaths.

“Was that … okay?” Joel breathed, staring at you with furrowed brows, and gently tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I think I blacked out for a second there.” You smiled.

Joel laughed and kissed the corner of your mouth. Smug as ever, he muttered, “I take tips.”

“That’s funny, since I just took yours.”

You almost felt Joel roll his eyes.

Joel slowly sat up, gazing down upon the absolute fucking mess the two of you made; both your arousals leaking out of your mound and coating your thighs in a light sheen.

Tenderly, he began to pull out, wincing from both the feeling of leaving your warmth as well as the sight of your come and his collecting around his cock in a shiny ring.

“Sit tight, baby, I’ll get you something to clean you up.” Joel pressed a kiss to your collarbone, tucked himself haphazardly back in his jeans, and disappeared off into another room.

If he had stayed a second longer, you would’ve said something that testified to how hard he had fucked you, since you weren’t sure you could move anyway.

Joel returned a minute or two later with a damp towel and began to softly wipe away the remnants of your dalliance, delicately caressing your hip with his other hand.

“What a gentleman.” You purred, watching him with a stupid grin on your fucked-out face.

Joel threw the towel aside.

“You think so, sweetheart?” He hummed, leaning down to give you a quick, affectionate kiss.

“Never had this level of aftercare.” You admitted, laughing slightly.

Joel gently manoeuvered the two of you so you laid on your sides facing each other on his surprisingly roomy sofa.

“Still regret not goin’ with that Daniel boy?” He smirked, taking your chin in between his fingers and tilting your face toward his.

You swung your bare leg over his hip and pulled him closer. “Not at all.”

“‘S what I thought.” Joel hummed happily, bumping his nose against yours.

“And … y’know what I said about this being a one-time thing?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re definitely doing this more than once.”

“Thank fucking God.”

[goldsbitch]

Kiss with a fist

To his twins, the world is ending. To Lando, it’s another exhausting reminder that parenting might actually be harder than racing.

or - No boys allowed near the girls from now on, especially not his rivals' son.

warning: dad! Lando, none, fun, domestic 3k word count stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

//

There is a loud crying sound coming from the room the seven year olds share and Lando has never felt so old in his bones. He'd just come back from an exhausting race and those don't exactly get easier with age. In times like these, he longs for the days when he was in his first years in F1, blissfully unaware of just how capable and seamless his body was. Anyway. No time to sulk in. One of his daughters is in distress and the day he does not respond to that will be the day he willingly puts himself up in jail.

He gets up from the couch and rushes over to the kids room. The crying is not stopping and when he enters it somehow starts clicking all in. He kneels down and hugs Maya, who looks like is determined to cry her eyes out. Meanwhile, Olivia is sitting on her bed, exceptionally quiet and has never looked more suspicious in her life, ever.

"We need to keep a closer eye on Liv, I think she's teasing Maya too much these days" he recalls Y/N saying over the phone one late evening. It was an early morning call for him, due to the timezones, but he remembers it clearly. He brushed it off, telling his wife that it's getting late over back home and that she should go and get some sleep while she can. But right now, assessing the current situation, he is not so sure about his previous judgement. Long gone is the time he was scared of being a bad parent, of fucking up. He's come to realization that he will inevitably fuck up - not in the same way as his parents, but in a completely new and original way. The fact they were blessed with twins making it that more likely to happen. He's hugging and caressing one daughter, while eyeing the other. Olivia has this look in her face and his stomach sinks down deeply, because he has seen this look before. In the mirror, many times. He was what most would consider a peaceful quiet child. Unless it was him and his sister alone. He'd tease her mercilessly, wait for her to start crying and then play innocent. His parents fell for that so easily.

And now, he's looking at his own daughter, who stares right back at him, and they both know. He shakes his head, making sure Maya does not see and while it does make him mad, it makes him less mad that it should. Because ultimately, he knows that him and his sisters grew up just fine and this teasing eventually stopped. Still, his other daughter is wallowing in his arms and he can't ignore that.

Maya is the first one to speak. "Daddy...I don't want to have a baby," she leans back from his embrace and pouts at him in a way only seven year old know how. So raw, honest and unfiltered.

Lando must have misheard her. “Come again, sweetheart?”

He brushes few tears away. At least she’s not sobbing anymore and is focused on trying to get the words out. “I don’t want to have a baby, I’m too young for that”.

It’s hard not to agree with that. She is seven years old.

He smiles gently, trying to somehow untangle this. "Why would you have a baby?" Another stream of tears and cries follows and she wraps herself in his arms again. He sighs, as it is does not get easier with time to hear your little daughter cry and he looks up to Olivia, who's still sitting on her bed. He's not mad per say, but he's silently asking her to help him find an answer to this all. This is the first time that Liv's expression shakes up and cracks away, hinting on either guilt or at least a sorrow she feels at the sight of her own twin crying. Good, Lando thinks. He tries as much as he can to avoid automatically blaming her for anything without having enough information about the situation. But, his it's hard to ignore his intuition.

He turns to Maya again. "Sweetie, why would you have a baby? You're so young?"

Maya's voice trips over her own sobs, but she finally speaks again. "I...I kissed a boy today."

Now - hold on. First of all, why is his seven year old daughter kissing some boys? He feels himself tense up. Of course he knew this days would come, but he was silently hoping for ten more years of keeping his little angels as they were. Just young, tiny kids running around playing tag. Not kissing boys, girls or whomever. "Who did you kiss?" he can't stop himself from asking, silently hoping he does not know the parent of said boy, because there is no way of preventing himself from making the "concerned parent phone call". Monte Carlo is small, there is only few nursery schools around here. It's an everyone sort of knows everyone kind of situation. "Maya, don't worry - you're not in trouble," he adds, trying to make sure he keeps up on having his daughter willing to tell him stuff like that. She is not in trouble - the boy is. Lando used to be a boy. He knows what's up.

Maya's lip is trembling and her eyes are wet. He can't bear that sight. "Sweetheart, you're not pregnant. I'm sure of that," he consoles her and after few moments of deep thought, she seems to believe him. She ask once more for confirmation. His answered is interrupted by his other daughter, who now looks equally concerned as Maya was just a minute ago.

"But she is pregnant. That's how it works. Boys at the playground said so," she speaks, oh-so-sure of her claims. He face is serious and has a sense of fatality around it. He begins to understand how other children would fall so deeply under this spell.

Ah, Lando thinks and the penny drops. He runs his hands through his hair and has to chuckle just a bit. He doesn't want Maya to think he’s making fun of her, but the absurdity of the situation is too much. He leans back on his heels, looking between his two daughters. Maya’s face is still flushed from crying, and Olivia is sitting with her arms crossed, looking like a pint-sized prophet of doom.

He clears his throat, trying to sound as serious as possible. "Okay, let's get something straight out of the way. Kissing someone is not how you get pregnant," he speaks and his mind briefly flashes to the panic he and Y/N felt the moment they found out she was pregnant with the twins. It's been a long time ago and enlightening journey since, but he can somewhat understand the sentiment. He tries to ground his children down some more. "Look at me and Mommy. We kiss all the time and she is not pregnant, right?"

Olivia seems intrigued. "So, how do you get pregnant?" He looks at her and curses himself for walking right into that one. It's clear in her face and maneurism that she is going to be a very difficult teenager one day. "Ask Mommy when she comes back," he blurts out, not at all prepared for that talk. He's also already mentally ordering apology bouquet for his dear wife for throwing her under a bus like that. He turns to Maya again. "Anyway, you don't worry. You're not pregnant," he caresses her cheek and once she really does seem more calm, he asks. "Now - who kissed you?"

Maya glances at Olivia, and Lando notices his other daughter watching with laser focus. Olivia’s lips are pressed tightly together, her expression that of someone who knows something and is dying to spill it.

“Do you want me to tell him?” Olivia asks suddenly, looking unable to contain herself any longer.

“Liv,” Lando says with a sigh, shooting her a warning look.

“What? I already know who it was,” Olivia says, folding her arms across her chest with a dramatic flair that only a seven-year-old can pull off. He averts his gaze to Maya, who looks like is ready to fess up.

"You're not in trouble," he says and hopes he can keep up on his promise.

She tenses up and something tells Lando he actually does not want to know. "It was Lucas." Too late. “Lucas,” he repeats, his voice carefully neutral.

Maya nods slowly, her cheeks flushing pink. “Lucas Verstappen,” she specifies. Lando feels his stomach drop. Max Verstappen’s son. Of all the boys in the world, it had to be Lucas, the mini version of the Verstappen gang and what one would call a true heir of their infamous blunt approach to life. If this is true, it marks the beginning of a lifetime of headaches. His poor, sweet little daughter - one he'll have to protect until forever.

"And she kissed him too!" Olivia nearly screams out, letting her opinion on this known by the judgy tone.

Lando eyes grow wide and he silently thankful for Olivia spilling it like it is. Maya's guilt ridden face gives it away all. "Maya, honey, aren't you a little young to be kissing boys?" he asks rhetorically, because of course - his little angel should definitely not be doing that.

"I would never kiss a boy! They are gross and annoying," Olivia blurts out, ever-so-competitive. He's not sure what scares him more, Maya who's running around kissing boys or Olivia, who reminds him of himself more each passing day. Let's see about that, Liv, when in ten years I'm warding off boys from your window, he thinks, but does not say it out loud.

"He kissed me first!" Maya defends herself and snuggles into Lando's embrace more. He sighs. It's not been the quiet chill down he expected to return to.

"Okay, ladies. Let's all calm down. How about some ice-cream?" he offers, hoping that cheap bribing will buy him some time to think. The sudden cheers confirm it and he's adding another five flowers to the bouquet for Y/N, knowing she won't condone this.

//

He's watching his daughters munch on the impromptu ice-cream sundae, both of them sitting silently on the kitchen counter, apparently dead set on destroying their pajamas with colorful stains.

The name Verstappen still rings in his ears. They're suppose to have a little family get together tomorrow and for some reason, that's starting to increasingly bother him.

He excused himself for a moment and goes to the balcony, making what he fears is one of the first distressed "my daughter kissed someone" call in his life - and not the last one. Headache. That's what it is.

The phone rings twice before Max picks up, his voice sounding tired and politely annoyed.

“Lando. What’s up, mate? Is it urgent, I'm kind of dead tonight.”

Lando takes a deep breath, trying to sound calm. Oh, you and your son will be dead very soon.

"Hi Max, yeah, it sort of is," he murmurs, trying to think his strategy through. "We have to cancel tomorrow, something came up." Genius. That's who he is. Now, he just has to move his family away from Monte Carlo and make sure Maya never meets Lucas Verstappen ever again. Problem solved.

Max doesn’t miss a beat. "Cancel? What do you mean cancel? Lucas has been talking about seeing the girls all week." Of course he has. Lando groans internally. Of course Lucas has been excited. This wasn’t just any hangout. This was apparently the next chapter in their little playground romance.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, mate," Lando insists, leaning on the balcony railing, running a hand through his hair, overlooking at his dearest angels, who will need his infinite protection. "We can’t do it. Something came up. Okay, bye."

Max is quick enough to speak before he manages to hang up. "Wait, what? If it's a problem for you and Y/N, we can just take care of the kids, no problem."

Is it the whole Verstappen family that wants to take his precious daughters? Lando knows he might be overreacting, but he is a tired man with a resposibility over two seven year old. Cut him some slack.

"No. Canceled. Bye," he says and kills the call. There, all sorted. He immediately goes on figuring out some back up activity for the family, something that will sound so exciting that they will all forget about the Verstappens.

Max calls him right back and he does not pick it up.

The young father goes on putting the girls down, everyone is now calm and there are no more pregnancy scares. He is good at this. Everything is great. Just as the girls are tucked into bed, eyelids drooping and calm finally restored, Lando’s phone buzzes once more. He glances over at it, expecting Max to be trying again. Instead, he sees Y/N’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, love,” Lando answers, trying to sound casual. He winks at his daughters, who are always excited when Mommy's around. “How’s dinner?”

“It’s nice,” Y/N replies, but her tone has an edge, the one where he knows she’s about to interrogate him. “How’s everything at home? The girls okay?”

“They’re fine,” Lando says quickly and decides to leave the kids bedroom, so that he can pace around, as he always does when Y/N sounds like that. ��All good here. No problems.”

There’s a beat of silence. He can feel her narrowing her eyes through the phone. He can hear the rush of the restaurant she's at, so her calling him must have a pretty good reason.

"Mm hm. So why did you cancel tomorrow’s hangout with Max and his family?"

Lando rolls his eyes, his brain scrambling for an answer while cursing Max mentally. Ugh. “Uh… something came up?”

"What "something," exactly?" Y/N presses, her voice filled with wonder.

"Just… things," Lando says vaguely, mentally kicking himself.

"Things," Y/N repeats flatly. "Lando, Max is suspicious. He just called me, distressed, asking what was going on, and now he thinks you’re mad at him."

This fires him up again. "Well, I am mad at him! So he got that right." Saying this makes him feel like the child in this scenario. Headache. Again.

Y/N sighs. "Did something happen on the track?" he asks patiently.

"What?" he asks, confused. He shakes his head. "No, no, it's um...The girls don't want to meet Lucas tomorrow, that's all."

Even he can't believe his tone.

"The same girls that spent the whole of yesterday excited about the bouncy castle they have at home?" she speaks with almost annoyed tone now. Lando groans, resting his forehead on the cool countertop. He does not have an answer. Just as he's about to fill her in on the whole kissing debacle, he continues. "Look, unless they're sick or something, can you please call Max and talk this out? I'm at the dinner and I can't just spend it all on the phone with my husband and his friend. Call him and talk it out."

Why is life so hard on him? "Do I have to? Can’t we just-"

"Lando," Y/N interrupts firmly. "You canceled without an explanation. You absolutely have to."

"Fine," he says, defeated. "Have a nice dinner, honey. I miss you," he concludes genuinely.

"Me too," Y/N says, her tone softening slightly. "I’ll check in when I’m on my way home. Love you."

"Love you too," Lando mutters, hanging up. He stares at his phone for a moment, then reluctantly dials Max’s number again.

It rings twice before Max answers, his voice dripping with faux innocence.

"Hey man. What the fuck?" Verstappens - always the pleasure.

"Max," Lando starts, rubbing his temple. "How are you? All good?" he asks politely, like the Brit he used to be once.

"What the fuck do you mean, how am I. You cancel out of nowhere and now Lucas won't talk to me, so yeah, great night off for me," he hears unfiltered tone coming through the speaker. He can't say it does not please him a bit.

"Well, it's late, he should be sleeping anyway," Lando let's out of his mouth before he thinks that through, ragging Max even further.

"You stop giving me instructions on how to raise my child and act like an adult for a moment, would you?"

"If someone should act more adult, it's Lucas," Yeah, Lando. Great comeback. Wow. The eight year old should act more like an adult.

Max manages to brush over that. "Did he do something to the twins? You need to tell me these things, how am I suppose to fix it if I don't know what happened? Or if something has even happened?"

It's hard to fight that logic. Especially after the evening Lando has had today. Lando sighs. There’s no way out of this, so he decides to just rip off the band-aid. "Maya told me… that Lucas kissed her. The silence on the other end is deafening. "And she kissed him back," Lando adds, cringing.

Max’s response is immediate: he bursts into laughter. "Oh, my God," Max wheezes. "Lucas and Maya? That’s amazing."

"It's anything but amazing, Max,” Lando snaps, pacing around again. "She thought she was pregnant because of something the kids on the playground told her! Do you know how much emotional damage I’ve endured in the past hour?"

Max is still laughing, clearly delighted. "Mate, you’re overreacting. They’re small. It’s harmless."

"This is the first boy she’s kissed, Max!" Lando argues. "Your son is now part of her origin story!"

"Oh, please," Max says, still chuckling. "What do you think is going to happen? They’ll run away together? They’re kids, Lando. Relax. It's normal for the to do this."

"I can’t relax," Lando grumbles. "And what’s worse, Olivia is now convinced she’s never falling in love because, and I quote, "boys are gross.""

Max cackles again. "Honestly, that’s probably for the best. Liv’s smart."

Lando's cup of patience, small one to begin with, is truly overflowing.

"Alright, alright," Max says, finally calming down and sensing that teasing Lando is not the way to go about it tonight. "Look, Lucas is a good kid. He probably just thought Maya looked pretty and didn’t know how else to say it. I’ll talk to him, alright? But you don’t need to cancel tomorrow over this."

Lando hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He knows they would all team up against him anyway. He lost this one. "You’re sure he won’t try anything else?"

Max snorts. "What, like propose? No, Lando, I don’t think so. He’s seven."

Fine.

//

The sound of children’s laughter fills the Verstappens’ backyard, the air warm and bright with sunlight. Like it's all mocking Lando specifically. The infamous bouncy castle stands in all its glory. Lando leans against a chair at the patio table, his arms crossed as he surveys the scene with the intensity of investors watching their car getting overtaken on track.

Maya and Lucas are bouncing together, grinning ear to ear like they’ve completely forgotten the events of yesterday. Meanwhile, Olivia stands off to the side, arms crossed and nose wrinkled in distaste, looking like she’s silently judging the entire scenery. She’s probably drafting her manifesto on why boys are, indeed, “gross.” Lando feels proud. At least one of his daughters is strong enough not to fall for cheap boy's tricks. Not even Y/N seems to understand the gravity of the situation. No matter how long Lando spent trying to explain it to her. Cute, that's what she called it. He hopes this is not a precedent. For now, he stands alone.

"You’re watching them like a prison guard," Y/N comments, nudging Lando gently as she sits down beside him.

"And for good reason," Lando replies, narrowing his eyes at Lucas, who’s apparently successfull at making Maya laugh. "He’s already made a move once. I’m not letting it happen again." He will sit happily sit in every playground they happen to encounter each other at.

Y/N hides her smile behind her coffee cup. "I think we’re safe for now. They’re just kids, Lando. You don’t have to treat Lucas like he’s some F1 rival trying to steal pole position from you."

"He is trying to steal something," Lando grumbles under his breath. Max strolls over, holding a plate of snacks, like the responsible dad he pretends to play, and looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Enjoying the show?"

Lando gives him a side-eye glare. "You think this is funny, don’t you?" Max smirks, popping a grape into his mouth and just nods.

"Your son traumatized my daughters yesterday," Lando fires away.

Max rolls his eyes. "And now they’re bouncing around like best friends again. Kids bounce back back. In this case, literally." Oh, he thinks he's so funny.

As if on cue, Lucas lands a little too close to Maya, sending both of them tumbling onto the floor of the bouncy castle in a fit of giggles. Lando tenses, halfway out of his seat before Y/N grabs his arm.

"Relax," she whispers. "It's fine." "For now," Lando protests, settling back reluctantly. From across the yard, Lucas suddenly stands up and calls out: "Mr. Norris!" Lando freezes, his eyes narrowing as the devil child approaches him. "What?" Lucas grins, holding up a flower he’s picked from the garden. He's rushing over to his and hands it to Lando, eyes filled with expectation and anticipation. "This is for Maya!" Speechless Lando accepts the flower, albeit confused as to why he's handing the flower to him and not to Maya, if she's the supposent recipient. Lucas flashes one look towards his father and in the corner of the eye, Lando can see Max nod approvingly. They really have all teamed up against him. Everyone is watching them and waiting for something exiting to happen. Olivia, the only one having Lando's back, lets out an audible groan loud enough to be heard across the yard.

"Oh, come on," she says, throwing her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous. I’m never falling in love. Ever!”

Y/N snorts into her coffee, Max doubles over laughing, and Lando buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, happy Lucas runs back to the bouncing castle.

"Why is my life like this?" he wonders, looking up the sky for answers. None come. Y/N pats his shoulder affectionately. "Because you’re the dad of two amazing girls. And one of them might have a little crush. It’s not the end of the world."

"It’s the beginning of the end," Lando mumbles dramatically. Max grins, leaning closer. "You know, if Lucas and Maya end up together, we’ll officially be family. Imagine that, Lando," he pauses dramatically. "Maya Verstappen."

Lando's stomach turns upside down, he groans and turns to Y/N. "We're moving to another continent."

The domestic afternoon continues, adults laughing and talking - apart form Lando, who sits in his observant position, regularly sighing, back leaning and forth in his chair. It’s going to be a long, chaotic road ahead. And it looks like he's the only sane person around - in his opinion exclusively.

----------------------- note: fire up them ideas for this pseudo series!!! love you all

[wheels-of-despair]

It's Happening Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie Munson and Evil Woman are gonna walk that stage, snatch those diplomas, and have an absolutely unforgettable day. Contains: Caps and gowns, ice cream and ironed shirts, friends and family, the first day of the rest of these dummies' lives. Words: 4.2k

It's happening.

It's finally happening.

Eddie Munson is fucking graduating.

He sits on the edge of his hard metal chair, jiggling his leg on the over-polished floor of the Hawkins High gymnasium. Why is he so nervous? The worst is over. All he has to do is grab that diploma when Higgins calls his name, and he's done with this hellhole forever.

He keeps his eyes forward while Higgins drones on like Charlie Brown's teacher until the nameless, faceless blob to his right gets up to walk the stage. This is it. He's next. It's really happening.

"Edward Munson."

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his dumb green gown and stands.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Higgins asks from behind his podium.

Eddie panics. Unable to find his words, he points to the stage.

"Nice try, Munson," the principal sneers. "But I think we all know you'll be back here again next year. And the next. And probably the next, if you're not in jail by then. Isn't that right, kids?"

Eddie makes the mistake of looking around and seeing that all eyes are on him. The room is eerily silent until someone starts laughing, and everyone else joins in. Soon, the whole gym is roaring with cruel laughter that echoes off the walls, making his ears ring. It's physically painful. He has to get out of here. He's fucking done with this place, he doesn't care if he gets his diploma or not. Eddie Munson is DONE.

He feels a hand on his back and jerks away defensively.

"Babe?" He knows that voice. He turns to her, and immediately regrets jerking away from her gentle touch. "Come on," she urges, rubbing his shoulder.

At least he's still got his girl. His Evil Woman. The only person who's not fucking laughing at him for being so fucking stupid that he failed his senior year FOUR FUCKING TIMES. She's already got her diploma, and somehow manages to look pretty in that ugly green cap and gown. It's going to be okay. They've still got each other.

"Eddie."

He snaps out of it and reaches for her hand, wanting to get her out of this awful place before it somehow gets worse, but she snatches it out of his grasp and backs away. She's laughing too. She's fucking laughing at him for being an utter failure of a human being. It hurts so much more when it comes from her.

And then Jason Fucking Carver comes up behind her and rips the stupid green gown off of her to reveal a white dress. A wedding dress. Eddie knows that's what it is. Carver's long tongue hangs from his putrid mouth like Gene Simmons, and he licks up the side of her neck, neither of them breaking eye contact with him. She giggles. Eddie thought he was the only person who could make her do that.

The sting of betrayal makes his eyes leak. She might as well have ripped his heart out and stomped it to bits. Was she really playing him all this time? Was he just a joke to her? Did she run back to Carver after every kiss and laugh about how gross and pathetic The Freak is? How stupid he must be, to think she actually wanted him.

"Eddie!"

The other jocks close in, grabbing and pushing him. Should he just let them do it? Shove him in a locker or tie him to the flagpole or whatever torture he's been outrunning all these years? Is it even worth the effort of fighting back anymore? Should he just let them win?

"Wake up!"

Eddie sits bolt upright and opens his eyes with a gasp, sucking in the air desperately. He's not at school. Sun streams through the blinds onto posters that aren't his. Photographs are in frames instead of taped haphazardly to the walls. There are no empty beer cans or dirty clothes in sight. This isn't his bedroom. It's hers. He slowly turns his head to find his other half sitting beside him on the wrinkled sheets, wearing an oversized t-shirt with her bare legs folded beneath her. No cap and gown. No laughter. Only concern in her beautiful eyes.

How long has she been trying to wake him?

Eddie lets out a dramatic sigh and closes his eyes, drawing his knees to his chest and dropping his head on them.

He feels her scoot closer. She wraps her arms around him and rests her chin on his shoulder. She's so warm. He leans into her, smiling when he feels the familiar comfort of her braless form pressing against him. Never gets old.

"Show up to graduation naked?" she guesses.

"Higgins said I failed again," he sighs. "Everyone laughed at me. Even you. You were wearing a wedding dress. Jason Carver licked you."

"Guh-ross," she giggles, turning the word into two syllables to show her disdain. He doesn't tell her that she didn't seem to mind in the dream, because that's all it was; just a dream. She'd rip Carver to shreds if he ever even thought about touching her.

One of her hands starts to rub Eddie's back through his ancient t-shirt. He sighs happily and nuzzles into her as a comfortable silence envelops the room. He never wants to leave this bed.

"You know if Higgins tries to come between you and that diploma, I'll kill him, right?" she asks, jolting him back awake. He hadn't even realized he'd started to drift off again. "I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Your hands are too pretty to be on that ugly bastard," Eddie smiles.

"How about with my diploma, then?"

He can hear the smile in her voice.

"Death by papercuts," he grins.

She lifts her head, and so does he. She leans in for a kiss, and Eddie meets her lips happily. Two sets of morning breath and all.

"You ready for this, baby?" she whispers, pressing her forehead against his. "The most important day of our lives?"

That's what the teachers kept calling it. Like wearing a cheap polyester gown and listening to boring speeches and getting handed a piece of paper was the most amazing thing that could ever happen to a person. Eddie Munson and his Evil Woman had laid out in her back yard one night, staring up at the stars, and named what felt like a thousand things more important than a high school graduation. He smiles at the memory. One of the more important things had been making out. A demonstration was necessary. For official purposes.

"Yeah," he breathes, raising his head and breaking the connection.

"In approximately," she pauses to glance at the clock beside her bed, "five hours, the one and only Eddie Munson will have walked that stage, snatched that diploma, flipped Higgins the bird, and become a proud graduate of Hawkins High."

He bites his lip nervously.

"Or the aforementioned Higgins will be found lying in a pool of his own blood in the parking lot, barely recognizable because of all the papercuts," she winks. Eddie grins, feeling relief wash over him at her twisted joke. "C'mon, handsome, let's go eat breakfast before we get dressed. I don't trust you with syrup and ironed clothes."

Eddie growls and tackles her back to the bed, covering her in kisses. The most important day of their lives can wait a few more minutes.

Eddie Munson may not have had the largest cheering section on the football field behind Hawkins High on Graduation Day, but it's quite possible that he had the loudest. Everyone came out to support their favorite Dungeon Master as he strutted across the stage and finally snatched that diploma he'd been eyeing for so many years.

(Contrary to the plans he announced frequently and loudly, he did not flip Higgins the bird and run like hell outta there. You chose to believe that it was because he was so grateful to finally get a diploma after sitting in that crummy metal chair in the stifling sun for over two hours of back-patting and repetitive speeches, he didn't want to cause any further delays to the long day. Although it would've been hilarious if Higgins had chased him off the stage.)

The ceremony had kicked off at noon, and it was well after two by the time the hats were finally tossed into the air. You and Eddie had shoved your way through the crowd of graduates, bumping shoulders and climbing chairs to attack each other with the tightest hug you'd ever shared.

"You did it, baby," you'd whispered with all the love in your heart. Eddie Munson had let out an honest-to-God giggle. And then your family and friends had descended for hugs and congratulations and photographs. You'd never seen Wayne Munson smile so wide in his life, as when your mom made him pose with Eddie and his diploma. That picture's definitely getting framed.

After the field began to clear out, the elder Hellfire members climbed into Eddie's van and went to Jeff's house. Jeff also had a fancy new diploma in his possession, and his parents had insisted that he invite a few of his friends over for cake and ice cream with the family. You went straight there, in your good clothes, so as to not frighten his grandparents with your ripped jeans and scary t-shirts. It was quite a pleasant, family-friendly afternoon.

And then the party moved to your house.

It took less than two minutes for you and Eddie to change from your semi-formal graduation-wear to your normal clothes. This was your night, and dammit, you were going to be comfortable for it.

Your mom had made enough food to feed an army. Wayne had taken the day off to attend the ceremony, man the grill, and guard the cooler full of beer. The backyard had been decorated with repurposed Christmas lights, lining the back fence and the path around the garden pond where your goldfish lived. The sun was still shining when you got there, but the lights were pretty anyway.

The younger Hellfire members, also known as Eddie's little sheepies, were invited to this one. Dustin's mom pulled in with a carload of nerds and a few extra lawn chairs, exactly on time. Your mom even talked her into staying for dinner; you had plenty, after all.

You and Eddie and all the people you loved - your mom, Uncle Wayne, Corroded Coffin, The Hellfire Club and a few adjacent youths, and even the mystical figure known as Reefer Rick - sat in the back yard and reminisced for hours. Your mother and Mrs. Henderson both had cameras, and spent the evening snapping away and going through God-knows-how-many rolls of film. The crowd ate burgers and hot dogs and dug into Tupperware containers of sides and demolished several bags of potato chips. The laughter was loud and genuine. You didn't ever want the evening to end.

You're pulled out of your blissful little reverie, leaning against Eddie in a shared lounge chair and sipping on lemonade, when his lips brush against your neck. You turn to face him with a quirked eyebrow.

"Sun's starting to go down," he whispers. "Wanna go inside with me for a minute?"

Your stomach flutters. You answer with a smile.

You get up from the low chair as gracefully as you can, pulling him up once you're standing. No one notices you slipping away except Rick, who winks at you just as he's getting to the good part in a wild story about fishing that you and Eddie have both heard before.

When you step into the house and close the door behind you, you wrap each other in a hug. Alone at last.

"I love you," Eddie whispers.

"I love you more," you answer.

"Impossible," he mutters.

You chuckle and pull back for a kiss.

"You still wanna do this?" he asks, biting his lip nervously.

"Of course I do," you whisper. "Do you?"

"Duh," he grins.

When you come back outside, most of the party has moved to the fish pond.

Once upon a time, you stole a bunch of goldfish from a school carnival you were forced to participate in. Your mother rolled with it, having Eddie and Gareth dig a hole and build a little pond for them. Since then, she's been filling in that whole corner of the backyard with beautiful flowers and little walkways and a nice bench that Eddie liberated from somebody's curb on trash day. The garden is her favorite place to read. It's you and Eddie's favorite place to smoke and talk to your fish. Even Gareth comes out here sometimes when there's a disgusting display of affection going on inside.

And tonight, one of the most important moments of your life is going to take place in it.

Rick sees you hovering by the porch and grins.

"Hey folks, can I have y'all gather 'round for a minute, please?" he asks. "I've got a little something to say about today's graduates."

The stragglers who aren't already in the garden with Rick wander toward him.

"Where are they, by the way?" your mom asks, turning around and scanning the yard. She freezes when she spots you with flowers in your hair, holding a small bouquet that your other half definitely didn't steal from one of her flower beds.

You hold your breath. The arm Eddie has around you tenses. You can see the wheels in her brain turning, grateful to see it end with a smile on her lips instead of smoke from her nostrils. She gives you a nod. You breathe a collective sigh of relief and notice that hers aren't the only eyes on you.

Wayne's smirking, like he knew this was going to happen. Gareth's brow is furrowed. Jeff and Grant have matching O's on their faces. Dustin's mom has tears in her eyes and a hand covering her mouth. Max is whispering in Jane's ear. And Dustin and Mike and Lucas are arguing about something, completely oblivious to what's about to happen until Erica starts stomping on feet and smacking backs of heads. You adore that kid.

"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag," Rick laughs. "Come on down here, I've got some speechifyin' to do!"

You and Eddie approach the garden. The small crowd parts to let you through. You stop next to Rick by the pond containing all your gold-finned children. You start to reach for Eddie's hands, but realize you're still holding flowers. Dammit, you should've passed them off to someone on your way in. Before you can get worked up over what to do with them, Eddie snatches them and sticks the stems in the front pocket of his battle vest with a grin. He's perfect.

"Y'all know how in cartoons, a little critter will get hearts in his eyes when he falls in love?" Rick asks, not waiting for a response before continuing. "I always thought that was just a cartoon thing until Eddie Munson walked in my house one day and started talking about this girl he just met, and he would not stop."

You glance at Eddie, who is in the process of turning into a tomato.

"Sorry, bud," Rick grins. "But I told to her mama about it, and it turns out, she did the same damn thing."

Now you and Eddie are a matching set.

"I always thought that love at first sight was just a nice thought. Something people made up for sappy songs and romance novels. I didn't believe in it... until I saw these two together for the first time. I have never seen two people more in love. This girl, and this boy? They were made for each other. Hell, I bet they even finish each other's--"

"Sandwiches," you and Eddie mutter together. Everyone who heard laughs, but nobody laughs harder than Rick.

"See?" he exclaims, gesturing toward you both. "They were made for each other! And that's why when they asked if I'd officiate - yes, folks, I am an ordained minister - I said that it would be my honor. No frills, no stress, just friends and family gathering for a good time. That's really all you need. Some people live their entire lives without truly understanding what love is, and these two went and figured it out already. That seem fair to y'all?"

A few chuckles come from behind you.

"I - and these two beautiful souls we're celebrating - are grateful to you all for being here on this most important day. Today's not just the closing of the Hawkins High chapter of these young lives; it's the beginning of their life as a married couple."

"They already argue like one anyway," a Dustin-like voice calls from behind you. You both whirl around with playful glares, just in time to see Max elbow him in the gut and make him grunt and double over. Serves him right.

"Alright, let's get to it before the kiddos get themselves in too much trouble," Rick laughs, gesturing for you to face each other. "Edward Jameson Munson, do you take this Evil Woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, 'til death do you part?"

"Yes," Eddie grins, his eyes flashing.

"And you," Rick says, full-naming you in front of everyone, "do you take this strange man to be your lawfully wedded husband, from this day 'til your last day?"

"Yes," you answer. Eddie's smile grows so wide, his eyes crinkle.

"Now I know y'all got rings."

You and Eddie chuckle, because of course you do, and two new pieces of metal are slid onto two ring fingers.

"Alright, then by the power vested in me by the state of Indiana, I pronounce you two hitched! Eddie Munson, kiss your bride!"

Your mouth crashes to Eddie's, and your mind goes blank.

When you pull back to look into his big brown eyes, you feel your heart bursting with love. You didn't know it was possible to love a person this much. But Eddie Munson is yours, your one and only, and you're keeping him forever. And you have the paperwork to prove it.

"You gonna throw them flowers, Mrs. Eddie?" Rick prompts, making you and Eddie step back and stop staring at each other before it gets too weird. As if your surprise wedding could be anything else.

You carefully extract your bouquet from the pocket of Eddie's battle vest and look to the small crowd. You're so happy all of these people are here with you, you feel tears prick at your eyes. Before anyone can see, you twirl and fling the flowers backwards, over your head.

Mike's girlfriend catches them. Mike turns red, Lucas and Dustin laugh, and poor Jane just looks confused. Max whispers in her ear, probably explaining what catching the flowers means, and she turns red too. The older crowd laughs gently when they see the realization dawn on her face. That poor kid.

"Congratulations, you two," Rick says, clapping a hand on each of your shoulders.

"Thank you," you and Eddie say together. "For everything," you add. You couldn't have done this without him. Rick is the coolest (and only) ordained minister you know. He offered to officiate, to distract the guests while you slipped away to get ready, and to hide the wedding cake in a cooler in his car. He even handed over the keys to his hunting cabin, where you and Eddie plan to spend your honeymoon. You don't need exotic beaches or fancy hotels. You just need each other, and a little help from the man they call Reefer Rick.

Rick looks behind you and grins. You turn to see who he's looking at… to find your mother and Wayne waiting patiently.

"Surprise?" you joke, scrunching an eye and bracing yourself for the worst. You are fully aware that you stole this look from Eddie. It's a shared asset now anyway, right?

Wayne snorts. Your mom laughs and steps forward, hugging you and then Eddie. Wayne hangs back, not really one for physical affection. That's alright. You know he loves you both anyway.

"Surprise indeed," she agrees, standing back to take in your wedding attire. It's not exactly traditional, but it felt right.

"Are you mad?" you ask, regretting giving her an opening as soon as the words leave your mouth.

"No," she smiles.

"We waited 'til after graduation," Eddie says helpfully.

She sighs and shakes her head in a good-natured what am I doing to do with you kind of way, fighting a smile the whole time.

"What are you gonna do now?" Wayne asks.

"Honeymoon," Eddie answers, like it's obvious.

"With what money?" Wayne challenges.

"We've been saving up, thank you very much," Eddie says, hand over his heart like he's taken offense. "Also, Rick gave me the keys to his hunting cabin."

"Wow, that's romantic," Gareth deadpans, appearing behind your mother with a scowl on his face.

"Aww, I've always wanted a baby brother!" Eddie beams, bouncing forward to attack Gareth with a hug.

"Get off me," he grunts, trying to get away. Eddie doesn't allow it.

"Family hug!" you chirp, before joining in.

Gareth continues to struggle, but with you and Eddie on either side of him, he doesn't stand a chance. You grin at each other over that messy blonde mop. He's your partner in crime for life now. You two against the world. Or right now, your baby brother.

"Alright, leave the poor kid alone," your mom chuckles, trying to free her second-born. "You have the rest of your lives to terrorize him."

You both cackle wickedly and let him go. Gareth crosses his arms and glares at Eddie… until a thought occurs to him. You can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head.

"You can never kick me out of the band now," he grins. "Or you'll have to deal with her."

Eddie's eyes dart to you. This is true. However…

"Or maybe I'll go all Yoko to kick off Eddie solo career," you shrug.

"Would you really do us like that?" Jeff asks, approaching with Grant and an offended look on his face.

"Only time will tell," you grin.

All at once, the rest of the boys descend on Eddie. They circle him and congratulate him with whoops and back-slaps and the occasional noogie to his already-messy hair. You watch with amusement until you notice the girls approach.

"Congratulations," Jane says slowly.

"Thank you," you beam. "I'm so glad you girls are here. I'm sick of being outnumbered by all these dumb boys."

"Right?!" Max exclaims, glaring at Lucas. You wonder what insensitive dumb-assery caused him to get dumped this week.

"There's somethin' seriously wrong with this town," Erica scoffs, looking from Max to you with a quirked eyebrow. "How are all these giant nerds gettin' girls who are way cooler than them? It's unnatural."

"Aw, Erica," you grin. "I'm sure you'll get a giant nerd of your own some day."

"Hard pass, Mrs. Freak."

"Mrs. Freak?" you laugh. "That's going on my license plate."

"Has a nice ring to it," your mom notes.

You smile at her, and she returns it. But then, her smile fades. Her eyes dart to your stomach. You know what she's asking. You shake your head slightly. You are both impressed that you've had an entire conversation without words, and annoyed that she even considered that you married the love of your life today because he knocked you up. Her face softens again, and your annoyance is quickly forgotten. The young girls still standing near you are none the wiser.

"Ha!" your mother laughs suddenly. "Your grandparents are going to be pissed. And your dad? Oh my God, he didn't get invited to his own daughter's wedding. He is never going to live this down."

"Guess he shouldn't have been such a dick-hole, then," you shrug.

"Dick-hole?" Jane questions. Max snorts. Erica turns away to hide her smile. You bite your lip.

"That's not a nice word," your mom explains gently. "She shouldn't have said that."

"My dad's not as cool as yours," you clarify, hoping that Chief Hopper's adopted daughter doesn't credit you for the addition of dick-hole to her vocabulary.

"Oh," Jane says casually, clearly used to this type of thing. You're sure she's heard worse from Dustin, who definitely didn't learn any new words from Eddie when he joined Hellfire.

The sound of a guitar blaring through speakers makes you all turn toward the noise, to find Rick fiddling with a boom box. Wayne has joined him, leaning against the house with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Rick presses a button to stop the tape and turns to face you.

"Are Mr. and Mrs. Eddie ready for their first official dance as a married couple?"

You look to Eddie. Eddie looks to you. He holds out a hand. You step toward him and take it. Rick presses play on the tape that Eddie gave him yesterday. You spent almost a week trying to curate sides A and B of The Wedding Mix Tape together, arguing over the song order and calculating runtimes in a true test of your relationship. If you made it through that, surely the rest of your lives would be a breeze.

You gaze into your husband's eyes and start to move with him to the sounds of the first song you agreed on, in your back yard, surrounded by all the people you love most, and you think to yourself… maybe this is the most important day of your life.

[indigodiskmybeloved]

Defending Penny from Pokemon

No, Penny isn't a terrorist who's malicious and some kind of evil genius who is on the same manipulation level of Ghetsis.

This isn't an attack on the person who made the post, it's more of a counter argument. Don't harass others, and be respectful.

"Penny is a terrorist group/started on by making Team Star!!"

Penny first made Team Star as a way to combat the bullies who were well, bullying her. I am a victim of bullying myself, and Penny had more guts to stand up than I ever did.

However, it went too far, with the Team Star captains driving the bullies away. Penny REALIZED she fucked up. She realized that and told the Team Star captains that they need to stop because of how they damaged their reputation. And when that didn't work, Penny asked the MC to take down the bosses so the bullies couldn't leave in fear like she did, and the Team Star captains won't be expelled. Penny KNEW she messed up, and WANTED TO FIX IT.

If Penny was like "Oh the bullies are gone! Yay! Now let's take over the school!" Then I can understand your reaction. But she didn't act like that. She wanted to fix things.

"She really only started Team Star just so she could have a friend group of misfits like her!"

Wow, who would've thought that a group of kids who can relate to the issues of being bullied would join a team to bond together?

Seriously, human connection is a thing. Like, Penny could relate to the other outcasts in school. All of the Team Star captains were bullied, and that was something she could relate to. Like "Oh, you've been bullied! Same here!"

It wasn't just "GRRR WHY IS NO ONE MY FRIEND I AM GOING TO BECOME A TERRORIST AND MAKE THESE PEOPLE MY FRIENDS" because that's what Penny is like apparently.

Context clues and media literacy is important.

"Penny is a criminal because she hacked into the League and Deservers jail time!"

Okay, out of all the takes, this is one that I can agree on.

I do agree that Penny deserves SOME kind of pushback for hacking into the League Point system and stealing from them. However, she is still a child, albeit teenager, and should at least get something inbetween of slap on the wrist and jail time.

There are options between nothing and going nuclear. Chill.

Though, on that topic, Penny isn't gonna be like "LET'S HACK INTO THE GOVERNMENT FOR FUNSIES" because she knows that's a bad idea. The only reason she hacked into the League Point system was to give the MC LP for taking down Team Star bosses. She wasn't doing it out of malicious intent.

And she even STATED that she herself should get more of an extreme punishment. This is more a fault of the game for letting her get away rather than Penny herself saying she should get away with this.

In short, you're allowed to hate a character. But exaggerating what they did without showing the context of it all, it just makes you look bad.

If you find the original post, please don't harass them. That isn't okay.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Things Are Changing

Pairing: Tee Higgins x Chase!SisterReader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Language and Ja'Marr being the ultimate younger brother. Mostly fluff though.

A/N: Someone requested more of this cute little universe so here ya go anon ♥︎

Tenderheaded | Main Masterlist | Princess Ti

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I fucked up.” Tee said as soon as he got in the house. 

With the groan Ja’Marr let out, he could tell his teammate was rolling his eyes.“Man shut up, you ain’t do shit.” 

Tee shook his head and slowly looked around the corners of his place, making sure his wife wasn’t lurking behind any walls. “Y/n’s gonna kill me.” 

“No she ain’t. How are you still scared of my sister? There ain’t nothing scary about her small ass.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. I married into this family, yall shared a womb.” His brother in law snorted on the other side of the phone. 

“Don’t be weird. Look you’ll be fine as long as you leave my name out of it.” Then he hung up.

Tee sighed taking a seat on the couch. His phone had gone black allowing for his reflection to look back at him. There was no way to hide it, the short hair was a very distinct look, especially on him. He hadn’t seen his hair this short since he was a kid, but the low maintenance it provided was needed for now. The only thing he was scared of was the shape of it, it definitely wouldn’t pass his forever beautician’s standards. But he did what he had to do. 

‘Hopefully she’ll see the brightside.’ He thinks smoothing his hair forward just as the front door opens.

“Tamaurice, what the hell.” That’s a great start.

Tee turns towards his wife and smiles, hoping your favorite feature of his takes care of some of the blow. “What, you don’t like?”

You hesitantly walk up to the couch and touch his head. “It’s short.”

He chuckles and places his own on your belly, caressing the soft protruding skin. His favorite reminder of the love they share. Then he looks up at you with loving doe eyes, but is met with a slight pout.

“I did it for you.” He whispers gently taking your hands. 

“I don’t get it. I loved your hair.”

Tee sighs and lightly tugs you down into his lap. “I know, but you wouldn’t have much time to do anything with it once our little princess gets here. I don’t want you to have anything to worry about except taking care of our baby girl. While you're doing that I’ll be taking care of you.” You smile as both of your hands meet on your bump.

“That’s so sweet and thoughtful of you.” Your soft praises are joined with wet streaks down your face. “Damn these hormones.”

He chuckles as you wrap your arms around your very loving husband. “For real though,” you sniffle. “This baby is beyond lucky to have you as her dad, and I’m forever thankful to have you as my partner.”

“Only the best for my queen and our princess.” Tee wipes away your tears and pecks your soft lips.

“Mmmm does that mean you’re gonna take care of my hair too?” A playful smirk grows on your cheeks as you pick at your dark coily puff.

Tee snorts, “baby you know I got you.”

“Good, cause whoever did this to you should be put in jail.” You grimace looking over his cut again.

“It’s not that bad mamas.”

You kiss your lips with both brows raised. “You know I can cut hair right? I didn’t do all those hours of cosmetology and barber school for my husband to come home looking like one of the three stooges.”

“The whole point was so you wouldn’t have to do it.” 

“Yea well, baby’s not here yet so come on.” You stand from his lap and hold a hand out. “What?”

“We’re going to the washbowl and starting your wave journey today.” Tee shakes his head and takes your hand.

“You’re real possessive over my hair mamas.” He smirks now towering over your bronze figure.

You shrug, pulling his hand towards your in-house salon. “Duh, look what happened when you went out on your own! It looks like a blind person did it.”

“It was your brother.” Pause. You stop in your tracks then take a deep breath.

“Y-you let…JA’MARR’S DUMBASS FUCK UP YOUR HAIR! I need a minute, go to the studio.” Breathe bitch breathe.

Tee watches as you pull out your phone and start mumbling obscenities under your breath.

“Baby, its not worth it. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this. Think about the baby.” 

You shake your head, the plump frown on your face unmoving. “If she’s as stubborn as you, princess will be completely fine. But she would not let this bullshit slide, her uncle Marr needs to answer for his crimes.”

“I don't think she’d be that worried about my hair compared to how I’d feel if you went into preterm labor right now.” You turned to your concerned husband, his deep brown eyes yearning for you to take a step back.

“Baby, I’m only 7 months and some change.”

Tee’s worried demeanor immediately dropped as his eyes widened. Shit, what did I say?

“You’ll be 8 months tomorrow. Was I the only one paying attention at those OB appointments?” He snorted.

You scrunched your face and looked down at where your feet would be if not for your bump in the way. “I paid attention, I just have pregnancy brain duh.” 

Tee slowly closed the distance between you and hugged you from behind. “Oh yea?”

“Mhm but don’t forget that before I was your wife, I was Uno’s big sister. So just because some things are changing around here doesn’t mean I just give up my sisterly privileges of yelling at my brother when he messes up.” 

Tee chuckles and kisses the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “Of course not, big sister for life.”

“Exactly you get it..” The words come out breathily as you lean into his kisses.

You feel him smirk against your skin and kiss the sensitive skin behind your right ear. “What about this, I’ll go to that bakery you like and get a cheesecake sampler box.” You immediately perk up at the mention of your ultimate pregnancy craving. “If you go over to that couch and sit your pretty ass down.”

He turns you around to see your face beaming with excitement.

“The big one?”

He slowly nods. “24 flavors with the 3 extra brownie bites.” So you went and sat your ass down.

ೃ⁀➷

“God this is all I’ve ever wanted in life.” You moan after biting into a slice of NY Cheesecake. Tee shakes his head in pure astonishment 

“Cheesecake?”

“Of course not. A husband who’ll drive 30 miles to get me the best damn cake in Ohio.” You smile at him. “Bonus points for being the most amazing husband even before I got pregnant.” You dote pecking his full lips with your sugary ones.

“Aww thank you mama, now can I have a bite?” He smiles but you jolt back, the cakes that were balancing on your belly now clutched in your hands. 

“Y/n.” You shake your head. “Baby there’s 26 slices left.”

“Okay and, your daughter called those.” You shrugged.

“Y/n you don’t even like some of those.”

As the soon to be mother you just point to your bump, “it’s not up to me babe. I’m just following orders.”

Tee kisses his lips then slouches into the couch. “Just following orders my ass, more like ordering my ass around. But nah I did this to myself, got the woman I love pregnant then a got a wack ass haircut. Oh yea I’m doing gr-

Before he knows it, Tee has a brownie stuffed in his face.

“Wuv woo.” He muffles attempting to smile at you.

You just shake your head and return to your own treat. “We love you too chocolate face.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

reblogs, comments and likes are very appreciated ♡

[royalsunshinehotel]

How Can I? (The Kid x Reader, 18+)

Author's Note: Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Guilty As Sin?" from an inbox request. Thank you to my intrepid editor, and dearest friend @youlooklike-clarabow. You're the best ❤️‍🔥😭🤠🍊

The forest had welcomed him back, just like he’d hoped. Four months after Kid had taken his revenge, it had welcomed him home, as if it missed him, and it had taken him back, and taken in the hijras, as if all of you had always been there. Beating Rana to death had brought Kid back to life. He hoped that you and Sita felt the same. 

Sita had been focused on farming the land, showing off her green thumb after years away from any kind of dirt, and Alpha, it felt, had retired. She had a rocking chair and would look over the makeshift village, from dawn until dusk, every single day. 

And then there was you. Your hand was the one Sita reached for when she ran out to the back alley of Kings. Covered in blood, but together through it all. He had saved your life, rescued the two of you from the Queenie’s black stiletto heels standing on your necks, forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do. He should leave you alone, he shouldn’t want you the way that he does. 

When was the last time he’d had such a luxury? He laid on his sleeping mat, bored bored bored, deep in his bones. 

He hadn’t realized exactly how mentally caged he had been, but now he was free. What was left to do? 

He’d learned about how you longed to throw yourself to the ocean rocks for the chance at freedom, and how grateful you were for him coming to break all of the locks with a chaotic flair. 

He wanted you to be his- from the first moment he laid eyes on you. It was a difficult thing to admit. He’d have wonderful - shockingly vivid dreams about a world where your attachment was written everywhere on you, walking into a room and people know your his. The same for him of course, he’d want everyone to know he’s yours. 

But why on earth would you agree to it? You’d been a bird in a horrible, dank little cage, why would you toss yourself to the likes of him, after all you’d been subjected to? 

Such thoughts could live in dreams, he supposed. 

Across the camp, you're in the branches of a banyan tree, sitting snugly, safely in its branches. You kick your feet, and bob a little, hoping to shake some fruit loose, but alas, the figs aren't ripe yet. Maybe some more sun the next week would do it. What a treat that would be! 

You enjoy seeing the whole camp from up high. Deep in the heart of the woods, you’re all here, together. 

It was remarkable, you think, how you had all been able to come together and make a home. It would be a true village with more time, but the fact that everyone from the temple, plus those left standing after King’s, all had their own shelter, and were working together for food and water…it was remarkable. 

You flash in your mind, on Kid, watching him a little too closely as he weaved some smaller branches to make a door. 

His arms were lovely, even to a strange woman in a fig tree. A flash of heat hits your face, as you imagine those arms around you. In dreams you’d been having, you take a fistful of dense, curly hair, and pull. Would he like it? Would he tell you to fuck off? 

You kick yourself, and then you kick yourself for kicking yourself. Just a passing thought of his arms, and you were practically panting in the early summer heat. 

Sitting up in your tree, you thought of all the men you allowed to touch you, how you faked smiles and orgasms like it was nothing. And then he’d just come bowling into your life with the spark of a firework, letting you know it didn’t have to be like that anymore. 

Even if you did put your hands on him, touch him in the ways you wished to, would you know how? Would you know how to feel for him? 

In your mind, you’d already felt all of him, to your heart's content and beyond…

Sita had said no one would send you to jail for your thoughts, but it certainly felt that way. You hadn’t even touched him - where did all this guilt come from? Did you really need to keep your longing for Kid locked in a vault? 

Queenie had locked passport, your money, everything you were, into a vault -  he was far too kind to be put in there. 

Still, you did intend to be loyal to him, even if it was entirely one sided.  You spoke to him only when necessary, and would continue to do so until this burning itch underneath your skin - ur desire, faded. It had to, right? 

“Kanna, come here please!” called Alpha, voice clear and smooth, summoning you down from your perch, and you oblige her, moving slowly. 

You trot over, feet feeling heavy on the grass, “Yes, Alpha?” 

She takes your hand, and you link your fingers, admiring the manicure Sita had given her earlier that week. 

“You fantasize. I can see it from down here.” 

“I’m not sure what you're saying.” 

“Your fantasies are no longer fatal, and neither are Kid’s. He’s free of the past, still, he does not sleep. You should perhaps see if he is alright?”

As if on cue, a groan floats through the air, towards the two of you. 

“And do what?” 

“Make sure that his past stays gone?” She suggests, not verbalizing what she’d observed these past months. 

Your brow furrows. Kid would have to settle for a cup of water, and a bite of tangerine before settling back to sleep. That’s what your mother always gave you for your nightmares, why wouldn’t it work here? 

You make the quick journey, waving goodnight to Alpha, but stalling at the door of Kid’s hut. 

Another low groan. 

If it had been daylight, you would have had it in yourself to admit to the fluttering in your belly, but you wouldn’t. The desire would subside, for now you have to see if he’s well. The light of the moon makes your path clear. 

You take a breath, before opening the door. 

It’s night. It’s dark - the moon only gets you so far. 

And yet, you still find him, in the corner, on his sleeping mat, flat on his back. A low, almost imperceptible whine reaches your ears, and you furrow your brow. That didn’t seem like a nightmare, was he sick? 

You crouch down next to his sleeping body, and place a cool hand on his forehead, just to feel him. 

It wasn’t in Kid’s nature to feel casual annoyance, but if he could have, he would have been. In the midst of a wonderful dream, inspired by a bead of sweat he saw glistening in the hollow of your clavicle that morning, he was now dreaming about you - again, same as every night. 

In his dreams, you fall apart under his palms, scratching desperately at his back, and you beg for more. In his dreams, you're a desperate, sweet little thing, not much different from him. Another self-indulgence, thinking of a world where you want him as badly as he wants you. 

He jerks awake - where have you gone? He feels movement right beside him, and reflexively grabs it, a tight grip on your wrist.

“Jaanu, come back to bed.” His eyes are wide, still asleep in his mind. You crouched beside him, stunned at his words.

Alpha had said he was having a nightmare. He was neither sick, nor having a nightmare…

He was dreaming! About the two of you! 

Heat rushes to your face, like a paintbrush in water. 

“Back to…” You pause, “Yes, I’ll come back to bed.” Kid grunts at you, not giving your wrist back.  

He’s still in his own head, he doesn’t realize that you’re truly here. 

You allow him to pull you in, sighing as he tucks you into his side. 

God, he felt better than you imagined. 

You hold on to him, as his breathing slows, and you run your hands over a warm, flat stomach, tracing hearts there, for hours and hours. 

You wake slowly, for the first time in years. A light brushing of warmth against your cheek. You crinkle your nose, slowly blinking, and remembering where exactly you were. 

Your head is resting on his arm, his hand on your waist, in real life. 

He’s looking over at you, brown eyes round, his mouth just inches away from yours. Over the past few months, his beard had gotten unruly, you slowly place a hand under his chin, to pet the new growth. 

“Are you really here?” He rasps, voice soft with sleep, you let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you, Alpha was worried, and you grabbed my wrist so I just…stayed.” You explained, trying not to seem flustered. 

“You're here, not just in my dreams.” He practically whispered, bringing up a palm to your cheek, same as you had for him. It had taken a couple of weeks to hear from Alpha about why Kid’s hands were the way they were. Kid had learned to live with the fact that his roots had been burned away, but as his hand touched your face, it certainly didn’t feel like that. 

You think about his lovely hands. Regardless of any fire, any destruction they may have wrought, any scar tissue that grew there had only served to free you and the women at King’s. You like his hands. 

“I want to kiss you. Can I?” Your voice shook, but you said those words anyway. You should be proud of yourself. 

Kid nods his head, letting you inch forward, brushing your noses together. Something in his stomach flips, and you brush your mouth against his. Soft, almost delicate, the same way a leaf meets the ground in the fall. 

Oh - you think. 

You kissed him, like you had been longing, dreaming of doing, and nothing horrible happened! The stars were still in the sky, the rivers were still running, the trees still stood tall, protecting your village…

“I want you. Do you feel the same?” You ask him again, not sure where this confidence had come from. Maybe it was the fact that you were here, and so close to what you had wanted…

“I only sleep because it’s where I might find you.” Something goes plink in your heart, and you decide enough is enough. 

“Well wake up,” you tease, “I’m right here.” 

Something flashes across Kid’s face, and he pulls you back in. It’s hard not to fold completely as he rolls you carefully on to your back, he just feels too good. Even with the low light coming into the hut, it felt as if Kid had been drizzled in gold. 

“I want more,” you command between kisses, his beard tickling your face. 

“We have to be quiet,” he responds, clearly getting distracted. You had to get him out of his own head. It was ridiculous, someone with a past as checkered as his. He wanted to be with you always, be something you could crush under the heel of your boot if it pleased you. He only wants to please you. And now that he is getting the chance, he does exactly that. 

He works his way down, ignoring the sticky summer heat, until he settles comfortably between your legs. 

How lovely! How comfortable it was to lie here with you. Your body under his felt so surreal, soft and comfortable. Your hands on his shoulders. 

When he has the time, he decides that he’s going to put each one of your fingers in his mouth, just for the sake of feeling every part of you. 

How strange, how new it was! The desire to feel all of someone; to lay here on top of you and hope gravity might keep him here as long as possible. 

He says nothing and hums into your soft thighs, stray hand wandering to push your cotton shift up slowly, higher and higher. You love him for that -  that he’s giving you so much time to stop him, to call it all off, but you don’t. 

Kid runs a rough palm over your heat, and begins to shake at the contact. 

“May I?” He asks, polite as ever. 

You reply, a simple “Yes.” 

Gently, slowly, Kid nudges your legs apart, smiling, before taking an experimental taste. 

It was embarrassing how you jerked into him, like an electric shock. 

Something darkened across his face, that set your hair on end in the best way, and he dove in headfirst. 

He flicks his tongue on your clit, chuckling against you as you twitch under the attention, “Do you like that?” He asks, and you nod, losing your thoughts. 

Your heart leaps to your throat as the rough pad of his thumb meets your clit, rubbing a heart shape. 

“Answer me!” He urges, growly, and it makes you want to smack him. 

“Yes!” You squeak, a little too loudly, sitting up on your elbows. Kid stifles a laugh behind his hand as he rests a palm on your stomach to soothe you. He didn’t know you as one to squeak! You pout, just because you can, and he grins at you, leaning up for a kiss to your pouty mouth. 

“Poor birdy,” he coos, “we should go deeper into the woods, where we can be as loud as we like.” 

The thought makes your hair stand on end, being truly alone, together. The tantalizing thought fades as he ducks his face back down, into you. As he works, spreading the warmth of his mouth over you, it was hard to remember why you ‘had to be quiet’. How would that be possible? Flicking his tongue, you twitch again, relishing the attention he was giving so freely.

“Would you like more?” He hums, vibrations tearing right through you. 

“Y-yesyesyes, more please.” His rough palms roam over you at a leisurely pace, his mouth back to your clit. You should be quiet, you try so hard to be quiet, but Kid’s sucking and slurping unnerves you. You can’t control yourself for long. 

You want to beg him to grab you harder, like you might float away if he doesn’t, but you just can’t find words beyond, “Want you…” 

“Do you promise?” Kid murmured into your leg, tugging the soft flesh there lightly with his teeth, “I don’t want to pressure you.” Please please please, he thinks. 

“I promise,” you pant, pussy still fluttering, “Wanted you since I first saw you…” Your voice dies off, as he comes up to kiss you on the mouth, like he missed you. 

“I was covered in blood.” 

“A few more days and you could be again.” You freeze at your own words. Queenie always kept the girls on lockdown when it was that time. Kid was different. 

“Don’t tempt me, jaanu. I should keep you in my arms until then.” It’s a threat. It’s a promise. It’s everything you’ve been dreaming about for months…

But the idea of Kid with your monthly blood on his face was something else entirely…

Your thoughts are cut off again, but Kid takes your hand, resting it above your stomach. Your fingers intertwine, naturally. 

“Can I get you ready for me?” 

“Do it.” Your voice is firm, and certain, and he absolutely adores you for it. 

The look on your face through the rising light makes his hair stand on end. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Kid traces your needy hole with his fingers. How could you have known that he’d be so gentle with you? What exactly had you been making yourself feel bad about? 

You bite down a moan as he works one finger in, slowly, letting you feel every ridge, relishing as you try to squirm closer to his hand. 

No. 

You’ll take what he gives when he gives it, he thinks but then he revises, You will get everything he had, but not quite yet. 

He pauses, letting you get used to his digit, only starting to move when you pant. You're too stiff, he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want it to be like before, he wants it to be better. 

It’s hard not to melt, so you allow yourself the pleasure. 

Who was he really? Did it even matter? 

“Alright, Jannu?” He asks, and you take a grip on his shoulder, nodding ‘yes.’ 

And then, he starts to move. 

It had been years since someone’s hands had worked you so thoroughly, and you simply had to enjoy it. He simply had to pull you closer, with his two fingers, other hand palming your breasts, to your thrill, in a less gentle manner than the rest of you. 

He was simply petting you, playing with you, of course you had to purr. You couldn’t imagine anything else. Everything in your life has led you here, with him, to be underneath him. 

“Shh. Just hold on for me.” 

Faster and faster and faster, and then. Nothing. 

Kid takes his hand from you, and you whip your head up, face ravenous. 

All he offers you is a “Sorry, not yet.” You should slap him, but the emptiness he’d left turned into an ache. How could he do this? Even for a moment? 

You whine, and Kid thinks he might die if he doesn’t fuck you how you deserve. 

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll make it better, hm?” Your lover shifts above you, and you feel his cock nudging at your folds. The giddiness of it all goes straight to your head. 

“Need you!” You are keen, rolling your hips into him, hoping to catch something, anything to grant relief. But the only thing that could help is him. 

“Slowly, not too much now.” He cautions, but you can't. You simply can’t. Months of dreaming, waiting, lusting, handling the overwhelming guilt you didn’t ask for? No more waiting.

You pant, and he greedily breathes in your air, inching into you, measured and careful. 

No. No more. 

You take a cruel grip on his ass, and pull him down into you, losing yourself for either a moment or an hour. 

He pants, sounding desperate to keep himself together. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest move, maybe he’d been going sooooo slooow for his sake as much as yours…

Kid is seated completely inside you, running his rough palm over the bulge he was making in your lower tummy. How quickly a life can change, he thinks, he was asleep, and now he’s here, above you, feeling exactly how deep he can fit inside you. 

Your vision had gone white at the edges, he just felt too correct. Perhaps you should keep him hostage here, always. Kid lets out a low whine, pathetic and beautiful, and you feel your skin buzz so loud, you're certain he could hear it. 

He has to move. Or you might die. 

But carefully, he rolls into you, making you dig into him. He catches your wanton moan in his mouth, trying to soothe you in spite of his actions. Your words are gone…

“Good girl, do you like that?” He asks, as if you could respond, “Do you want more?” 

You nod your head, drunkenly, and he snaps down again. You grip him even tighter, and he puts his mouth back on yours. 

It’s just too desperate, does he know how badly you need him?  

“Harder! Harder please.” You beg, eyes round and unfocused on anything other than the harsh pleasure he was giving you. 

“More more more!”

Kid goes after your breasts, teasing with his hot mouth, bringing you closer with each shallow breath he takes. 

You stifle a wail in his shoulder, fighting desperately. As soon as you bare down around him, it’s over. You don’t want to be over…

Kid seems to know this, watching you intently, same as always. You fight off your orgasm, defiant and determined, fluttering tightly around him, the least he could do is do the same. 

But it’s simply too much, you knew you were going to scream. You couldn’t, it was too early, everyone would know. 

You run a hand up the side of his face, catching his beard, feeling hair stuck to his forehead from the humidity. His eyes blank, absolutely lost in the throes of you, your squelching and whines burned into his bones forever. 

He holds you as you scrabble at his back, eyes rolling, not losing his pace for a moment, only gasping into your ear as you finally clench down, fluttering around him, only coming back to reality when your teeth meet his chest and bite down, muffling the sound. 

Your teeth meeting his flesh, makes him lose his composure. He moans beautifully in your ear, your teeth still in his chest, reflexively gripping you harder as he spills deep inside. You kick your legs up higher around his torso, so you could keep him trapped against you. 

Kid pants into your mouth, murmuring all the sweet things he’d been keeping to himself. He’s free now, you both are. 

But still, neither of you move, holding on to each other, and it must be heaven. 

Someone has to move first. He should start some tea for you. He should start to show you how he was ready for the rest of his life now, with you. 

But it’s not to be, the second Kid pulls out, you kick his rear with the heel of your ankle. All of your shared mess seeps out of your worn out body. Not yet. He’s too far away. It couldn’t be over yet…That’s not allowed, you decide. 

“No. Put it back.” You command. 

Kid has the nerve to bat his eyes at you, and obliges, face flashing with something you couldn’t place. 

He holds you tight, and the two of you let the quiet soak in from the window. With you here, it wasn’t a hut, but a proper house. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, the sheer weight of your eyes on his, it feels like an honor to be here with you. 

The evidence of your rendezvous was hot and sticky between your legs. Kid was surprised that there seemed to be so much, and he didn’t mind one bit. Maybe he could take you down to the river to clean up, and care for you properly. Maybe the two of you wouldn’t be missed. 

You close your eyes, and something flips in the Kid's chest. 

“What is it you want?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “Ask for the moon and I’ll pull it down for you.” You squirm under the intensity of his stare, he was simply too beautiful and overwhelming. 

“I choose you and me.” 

“You can have it.” He gives you a peck, smiling into you, but quickly furrowing into concern. .

“Wait Jannu, it’s alright, what’s happened?” You stifle a small sob at the overwhelming softness of his tone. 

The fist around your heart clenches, as you feel a wet trail down your face, to your jaw. 

When was the last time you were allowed to cry? 

You huff a little, to yourself, and bring him in for another sweet kiss, languid and comfortable. He brings the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, clearing the tears away.  You take a fistful of his hair, and bring him in close, limbs intertwined, safe together. 

“I’m happy. I’m so very happy.” And you cry a little more, because it’s true. 

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 004

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[8.1k] A certain pogue is out of jail which means a certain handful of Kooks should be going in, unless they found some way out of it...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ death, strained friendship, tw! topper, mentions of drowning

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ A lil TR x Sarah bonding until it all goes to shit of course, BUT A LOT OF GOOD THINGS HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER! Sorry for the angst streak :/ also, the scene between TR and JJ is loosely based on this scene between Brooke and Lucas from One Tree Hill.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THE SOUND OF CHICKENS CLUCKING AND KIARA PLUCKING THE STRINGS ON HER UKELELE SOUNDED IN THE QUIET OF THE YARD. The four of you — you, JJ, Kiara, and Pope, were in the surf shack at The Chateau. It was early in the morning.

JJ was waxing his board as Kiara played her instrument, you and Pope standing idly by. You were starting to get worried. It’d been almost twelve hours since your confrontation with Shoupe and nothing seems to have changed. You hoped it wasn’t all for nothing. 

But another question was on your tongue…

“...Has anyone seen Sarah?” You asked, eyes squinting from the sunlight. Everyone looked at each other for a brief moment until Kiara broke the silence.

“Last thing she said was that she was going to meet Wheezie.” You hummed at her words.

You and Kie hadn’t spoken nor looked one another in the eye since last night, so it was safe to assume you weren’t the best of friends right now. To be honest, you haven’t been for a while. It was just so weird. There was a time you considered her one of your best friends. But now you couldn’t even face each other without some kind of cat fight ensuing. And you feared these disputes might go from verbal to physical if the pressure reached that point…

“That’s a lot of wax on your board.” Pope spoke, interrupting JJ as he waxed his surfboard. The blonde paused in his movements, side eyeing his friend. “If you put too much, it’s gonna be slippery.”

“...Are you tellin’ me how to wax my board, Pope?” JJ asked, standing up straight.

“I’m just saying, that’s a lot of wax-”

“No no no, you’re tellin’ me how to wax my board. Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just saying that’s a colossal waste of wax.” Pope shrugged sassily, turning away from the blonde.

“Guys,” Kiara butted in, looking between the two. “Really? Can you go two minutes without-” A car horn cut off the tail end of her sentence. The sound making all of you freeze. That was a very distinct horn. A horn that only belonged to a certain vehicle. A certain vehicle that belonged to a certain boy.

None of you said anything else, almost all completely still and waiting to hear it again. When the sound came again, you were the first to turn and run towards it. You rounded the corner of the surf shack just in time to see the Twinkie kicking up dust in front of The Chateau, a dearly missed brunette behind the wheel.

“No fucking way!” You exclaimed breathlessly as you ran towards the vehicle, almost tripping over your own feet. “Jombee!”

“Guess who’s out of the clink?!” He smiled, hopping out of the passenger seat. You knocked the wind out of the boy when you threw yourself into him, squeezing him as tightly as you could. He returned the gesture in full, the both of you laughing into each other’s shoulders as the others approached.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Am I dreaming?”

“My boy’s out of the can!” They all joined in on the hug when they got close enough, the five of you piled in on each other. You weren’t sure if what you said worked or it was by the grace of some other miracle that John B was here right now but you didn’t care.

“How’d you do it?” JJ asked as you all pulled back from the hug, forming a circle. “You bust out?”

“No, actually,” John B said matter of factly. “They dropped the charges.” Just then, three of them turned to you with knowing smiles on their faces, John B following their gazes like a lost child. “What?”

“It worked.” Pope told him simply.

“What? What worked?”

“Our little pogue princess here used her magic to get your ass out of jail, Bree.” JJ celebrated, nudging your shoulder playfully as a small smile grew on your face.

“How the hell did you manage that?” John B asked, scoffing gratefully.

“It was nothing…” You waved off. “I just put some pieces together, that’s all.”

“Uh, it was not nothing.” JJ assured. “She went straight up Criminal Minds on Shoupe and his league of badge-wielding sissies. Had a folder and everything-”

“...Wait,” John B cut in, the smile gone from his face. “Where’s Sarah?” The four of you looked to each other, shoulder's square and tense.

“...She went to go meet Wheezie last night.” Kiara told the boy, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “She didn’t come back.”

“SO, SARAH JUST DIPS AND DOESN’T CALL?” John B theoreticized, the only one standing on the boat. The five of you were lounging in the HMS Pogue that’d been stationery in the water behind The Chateau. John B was kind of dampening the mood with a Sarah question every five minutes but you all gave him the benefit of the doubt. 

“I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. I mean, I don’t think she would just leave. No offense but, where would she even go?” Kiara threw out, leaning against the inside of the boat next to John B’s legs.

“But, I mean also, she left her bag.” Pope added, you weren’t sure how that helped the conversation.

John B just sighed, planting his hands atop his head. “I really think Ward got to her.” He offered a possible theory. “I mean, he tried to have me killed in jail.”

You turned around so fast, you feared you almost gave yourself whiplash. “He what?”

“Yeah. He sent somebody to the prison who...yoked me up and almost killed me.” 

“Do we know who this dude was?” JJ asked. Judging by his tone, he had an idea in mind and he most likely could go through with it if he truly wanted. Between the inmates who didn’t approve of crimes against children and JJ’s connections in the jail from his dad, he could honestly probably set something up with just a name and a dirty cop.

“No, I have no idea.” John B shook his head. “Dude, I swear to God, one day I’m gonna kill that son of bitch.” He threatened mindlessly, finally taking a seat inside the boat.

“It’s okay.” Kiara tried to comfort.

“No, Kie, it’s not okay.” He snapped. “We gotta find Sarah.”

“No, literally, it’s okay.” Kiara said once more, pointing behind the distressed brunette. “She’s right there.”

The four of you turned to see Sarah…sitting in Topper’s boat. 

As Topper drove.

At the sight of John B, the blonde girl stood up. “...John B?” Her small voice traveled across the water, Topper’s boat getting closer and closer. She shouted John B’s name happily, the boy simply looking away from her. Seeing your girlfriend on her ex’s boat the morning you get out of jail can’t be the best ‘Welcome Home’ surprise.

The four of you cringed, Sarah clearly not registering the picture that was being painted.

“Oh, poor Sarah.” You muttered under your breath, mainly to yourself. “Sometimes, I forget that you are indeed a blonde, teenage girl.”

“What the hell is she doing with Topper?” Kiara asked, loud enough for the four of you only to hear. Everyone shot small smiles at the blonde girl, confused about who she’d arrived with but glad that she was safe nonetheless. Topper slowed his boat next to The Pogue, allowing Sarah to cross over as he and John B exchanged awkward glances.

“My God, this is weird…” You mumbled, clearly not quietly enough considering Pope nudged your shoulder in warning. “Wh-Am I wrong?”

Sarah threw herself into John B, the boy returning the gesture wholeheartedly but you could tell he was still a little thrown off. “I though I’d never see you again.” Sarah told him, voice muffled into his shoulder before she pulled back to look him in his eyes. “What happened?”

“They dropped all the charges.” John B smiled at his girlfriend.

“What?” Sarah breathed out, a bright smile on her face.

“Yeah, I’m a free man.” John B said smugly, leaning one arm on the boat’s windshield. 

“That’s amazing!” Sarah exclaimed, pulling the boy into her one more time. The look of heartbreak on Topper’s face was clear as day. Anyone could tell that he was still in love with her. You might’ve even felt bad if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“I know, it’s great, but listen, Sarah,” John B calmed her down, pushing her back by her arms to look at her. “They’re coming after Rafe.”

“...Good,” She said, surprising you all. Her eyes fleeted to you for a brief moment. “He’s completely unhinged. He jumped me last night.”

“What?” You all said simultaneously, eyes going wide as your attention went to Sarah.

“That’s why I didn’t come back.” 

“Yeah, man. Rafe has lost his mind.” Topper butted in, leaning against the structure of his own boat. “Literally almost drowned his own sister.” You rolled your eyes. Topper has known how unhinged Rafe was all along. He and Kelce always stood by like bodyguards when Rafe would treat you like shit towards the end of your “relationship” with him — he’d grab you by your neck in front of them, pull your hair, call you a bitch, tell you to shut up. But they didn’t care. Or at least they didn’t care enough to say anything about the way Rafe manhandled you or the people around him. But now that Topper had a chance to be Sarah’s knight in shining armor, there was no way he was going to pass it up. “Thankfully I got there just in time.” He said, and you swore you saw the hint of a sly smile on his face.

John B turned away from the blonde on the other boat, tongue prodding against his cheek. “Well, I guess I owe you one, Topper, don’t I?” He asked, voice short.

He simply scoffed in response, shrugging nonchalantly. “...’s all good. I mean, somebody had to rescue your girlfriend, right?”

“Oookay,” You jumped in. “I think it’s time for you to go, Topper, don’t you agree?-” You tried before John B jumped in.

“That’s funny because she’s not actually my girlfriend, right?” He directed the question more at Sarah than Topper, the girl tucking her hair behind her ear and laughing nervously.

“What is she, then?” Topper asked, chuckling. 

John B threw a hand out in Sarah’s direction. “Tell him.” He had a sure smile on his face, like he knew Sarah would say what he wanted her to. But it quickly dropped following her words.

“I…I’m with him.” She looked almost unsure of what she was saying. Like she didn't want to say it.

The four of you not involved in this love triangle cringed silently, all looking in different directions as your faces twisted while Topper basically wheezed. “Gotcha. You’re with him. Yeah, okay.” He taunted, looking to the four of you. “You guys clear on that?”

“I think it’s clear you gotta go now.” JJ warned, looking up at the preppy blonde.

“Yeah, I think it’s about that time.” He agreed simply as Sarah called out to him.

“Topper.” She said, leaving John B’s side to get closer to Topper’s boat. “Thank you.” She said gratefully, pulling the boy into a gentle hug.

Topper returned the gesture. “Yeah, of course.” He said softly, hand rubbing up and down her back gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He assured, and none of you missed the glare he shot John B behind Sarah’s back before she pulled away, letting Topper speed off.

YOU WERE STRETCHED OUT ON THE COUCH IN THE CHATEAU, TOSSING A BALL UP INTO THE AIR. John B and Sarah were outside on the hammock, the conversation they were having didn't look too pleasant. Kiara and Pope were talking in the Surf Shack, no telling whether they were cuddling or Kie was pushing him away. You were deep into thought when the door swung open, a chipper blonde waltzing in, humming some random tune under his breath as he went over into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

You looked at his frame in your peripheral before rolling your eyes and sighing, resuming your train of thought. 

“...Y’know, you are really just take the passive part out of being passive-aggressive, y’know that, right?” He spoke across the room, closing the fridge and leaning against it, a beer can in his hand.

“Sorry. I guess liars just bring out the worst in me.” You muttered, voice full of attitude.

“How can I lie about something I have no idea about? Kind of hard to understand why you're so mad at me if you don't say anything.” JJ scoffed, taking small steps towards you. 

At this you scoffed and rolled your eyes once more, sitting up on the couch and leaning your weight one arm, the ball clutched in your other hand. “Are you really just never going to say anything about it?”

“Say anything about what?"

"I mean, at first, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Like maybe it wasn't what it seemed but it's been days-"

You’ve been talking in riddles for days-”

“You kissed Kie.”

“...What?” He recoiled at the statement, standing up straighter. “No, I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did.” You interrupted, swinging your legs off of the couch and leaning your arms on your thighs. “In Charleston. At the gas station.” 

He seemed to ponder on it for a moment before he found it — his eyes going wide and his jaw going slack before he stuttered to find words. “Th- that is not what happened. Is that what she told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything. Neither of you did because you’re both liars and shitty friends.” You spat, standing from your seat and walking out of the door, hearing his heavy boots follow behind you as the screen door hit the wall. “Maybe this is a sign. Because clearly, you’re both made for each other. Do all liars and backstabbers have a moral code? Birds of a feather, y'know-”

“Can you let me explain?” He breathed out, his footsteps barrelling down the wooden steps and you walked through the dirt and gravel. You didn’t know where you were going or if you were going anywhere at all. It just felt right to walk away.

“You could’ve explained days ago.”

“Look,” He tried, gently grasping your arm to stop you in your tracks and turn you around. “Just listen to me, please. I understand what it may have looked like and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but I meant everything I said to you. That kiss you saw? Didn’t mean anything.” 

“A kiss always means something.” You rasped, snatching your arm away and looking him in his eyes. Really in his eyes, for probably the first time in days. 

“Okay, maybe you’re right but it didn’t mean anything to me. I didn't initiate it or like it or anything. I can’t speak for Kie but I can speak for me and the kiss. meant. nothing. And you would know that if you had-”

“If I had what?” You cut him off. “If I had said something? As you so sweetly pointed out, I didn't say anything, did I? I’m so sorry if the sight of you and Kie playing tongue hockey while Pope and I are less than ten feet away caught me off guard so badly that I couldn't say anything when it happened.”

“And I get that, I do. But you aren’t listening-” He tried to calm you, planting both of his hands on your shoulders before being harshly shrugged off.

“Stop that.”

“...Look, Kie kissed me. We were talking and then she kissed me and I pushed her away. The kiss didn’t last more than five seconds and I didn’t kiss her back. I told her I didn’t like her that way, I don't like her that way, and that I wouldn’t do that to Pope or you, ever. I even told her about what me and you have going on. I promise you.” He reassured. “And to be completely honest with you, would it even matter if I did? I mean, we aren’t together. You said you needed time to figure out your feelings. You said that you didn’t want me to wait on you to figure out your feelings. You said that.”

At his comment, you stood in shock. A silent ‘wow’ leaving your lips as you looked around at nothing. “And you know what, JJ? I loved you for that. You were so patient and understand in that moment that I fell in love with you in a such a way that I couldn't just call you my friend anymore. And I can’t believe that you use what I said now and twist it into something else. You know that’s not what happened. I told you I didn’t want you to wait on me to figure out my feelings if that’s not what you want, that part is true. But what about when you told me that you would and that it was your choice? That you’d be there when I was ready?” You reprimanded, scolded. “And when I told you that if you did kiss someone else or hook up with someone else, I just wanted you to tell me and not let me find out from someone else. And you told me that there would be nothing to tell and nothing to find out because you were “all mine”. Or did all of that just coincidentally slip your mind?”

“It didn’t. I just…” JJ sighed, running a hand down his face. “I need you to trust me and believe me when I tell you that my heart is with you. It always has been and it always will be.” He told, eyes boring into yours, pleading. “...But a part of me feels like when all of your grief is gone and you feel better about everything. About your mom, your dad, everything. You won’t...need me anymore and you’ll try to push me away because maybe then you’ll realize that you don’t really feel that way about me. You just thought you did because…because I was there for you when you needed me to be.”

“Oh.” You scoffed, eyebrows raising. “You kiss someone else, one of our friends, and I’m the one who’s feelings are being doubted?”

JJ just sighed, stepping impossibly closer to you. One of his hands reached out to caress your face, this time you let him. “...I love you.” He said softly. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

“How about how you show it?” You whined, eyes getting teary and voice wavering. You gently grasped his hand, dragging it away from where it was cradling your face. “I am not using you to make myself feel better, JJ. What I feel for you is not a product of my grief or fucked up life or because you were there for me at just the right time. And maybe I needed the time to realize that before but I know it, now. I am sure that I love you but now I need you to be sure that you love me back. Okay, so why wouldn’t you just tell me about the kiss? If it didn’t mean anything, why didn’t you say anything?” You explained, two single tears running down your face.

Suddenly, JJ’s phone started to go off, notification after notification. You let go of his hand, using your own to wipe your tears, as he fished for his phone in his pocket.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath, walking in the direction of the Surf Shack.

“What?” You asked, voice still off from crying and you followed behind him.

He rounded the corner to find Kie and Pope pulling apart from a hug, you could only wonder what they were talking about. You didn’t miss the way both of their eyes went between you and JJ. Between JJ’s red face and your tear stains, they probably had questions. You wouldn’t be surprised if they heard the heated conversation.

“Pope.” JJ started. “Just got a call from Guffy. Somethin’ happened to your pops.”

“LET ME KNOW IF I’M HURTING YOU, OKAY?” Sarah cooed, planting a bandage on Heyward’s hairline. By the time the six of you arrived, the older man was hunched over, beaten and bloodied. Not too badly but bad enough for someone like Heyward. 

“You’re doin’ just fine.” Heyward told Sarah, wincing as she fully secured the bandage and walked away. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Pop,” Pope started, walking closer to his father. “What happened?”

“Oh, I should’ve known better.” Heyward started, lightly touching the bandage on his head. “He came in just as I was about to lock up. Caught me by surprise. Once he had me down, he put his knee in my chest,” You cringed at the thought. “...and he asked me about that…about that key. From that drawing you showed me. And in case you’re wondering,” The older man gaining his sass back as he spoke. “I ain’t tell him nothin’.” He told the group of you, a hand on his hip with his lips pursed before his eyes went back to his son. “Now did you track it down?”

Pope fished around in his back pocket, pulling out a slim, gold key with a red string attached. The five you surrounding the father and son had sly smirks on your faces.

“I found it in Mee-maw’s old apartment above the pharmacy, just like you said.”

“...Shit, boy, you should’ve gave this to me. I wouldn’t have had to take a beatin’.” He spoke, shocked by the sight of the key as he twirled it between his fingers. “What’s the big deal? It ain’t worth anythin'. Why they want it so bad?”

“I don’t know.” Pope shrugged along with the rest of you. “First, I get this letter telling me that I need to go to Charleston. And then I meet this rich lady who wants me to give her a key that I didn’t even know was in my family.” Pope explained enthusiastically. 

“Well, don’t y’all just sit here whinin’ about it.” Heyward scolded the group of you sporting long faces. “Figure it out.”

Pope’s face twisted at his father’s words as he shook his head. “No.” He said firmly. “I’m just gonna give the key to that lady. It’s not worth-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no…” Heyward interrupted. “Did I raise you to back down from a fight?” 

Pope shook his head. “...No, sir.”

“Well, all right.” Heyward nodded, admiration is his eyes. “Now, I didn’t think ‘bout it before. I admit that. But now…” He trailed off, eyes on the key in his hand before pointing to the injury on his head. “Now? I’m interested.” He smiled smugly. “Did they say why they wanted it?”

Pope drew his lips into a thin line. “Somethin’ about an old cross. I think it might be some kind of lost treasure.”

“You know who you should talk to?” Heyward suggested, leaning forward. “Your great-grandmother.”

JOHN B STOPPED THE VAN IN FRONT OF SHADY ACRES NURSING HOME. It was the next day, the group of you agreeing to put it off until then considering it was a little drive away. Pope was the first out of the van, Kiara following as JJ got out of the passenger seat.

“Hey, um…” Pope started, looking up at the building. “I think I’m actually gonna do this one by myself.” It seemed like a general statement but his eyes kept zoning in on key. 

“...You sure?” Kie asked, half-way out of the van doors.

“Yeah.” Pope shrugged. “I can handle it, I don’t really need you, so…” The clear attitude in his voice had you and Sarah, who were still seated, cringing in the van, looking anywhere but at the two. You figured whatever they talked about in the shed wasn't as good as it seemed. Maybe that wasn't a happy hug...

“Oh, we’re just all one big happy family today, aren’t we?” JJ joked, trying to lighten the mood. Now that he mentioned it, it did seem like all the “couples” in the group were off. Even John B and Sarah hadn’t talked since yesterday afternoon or all this morning.

Pope simply looked at the blonde before walking off, a gloomy expression on his face. John B restarted the van, ready to drive off while Pope did his task.

“OF COURSE I THANKED TOPPER.” Sarah whispered as you, her, and Kie walked back towards the van slowly. John B had made a pit-stop at a burger place where you, Sarah, and Kie went to get milkshakes. John B and JJ were inside the vehicle, it looked like they were having a hushed conversation of their own. “He saved my life, and I’d put him through so much already.” She added, sipping on her milkshake as you did the same, Kie nodding. “And you’d think that that is the crime of the century.”

“Tell me about it.” Kiara said. “All of this crazy shit’s happening, and Pope is giving me the silent treatment for not being in love with him.”

You gulped down the rest of you shake at her words. “I think it’s more so due to the fact that you led him on as if you were in love with him, but hey,” You butted in bluntly, sending a tight-lipped smile Kiara’s way. “What do I know?”

“People can’t control their feelings. You can’t force yourself to…love someone who you just don’t.”

“No,” You dragged out. “But people can control how they interact with those people. Kissing someone, sleeping with someone? That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m not in love with you’.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Kie stopped walking, turning to you. “You don’t speak to me for days and then when you do it’s the same passive-aggressive bullshit? I mean, seriously, what’s your deal?”

You stopped in your own tracks from where you had taken a few steps forward, turning to face the girl while still sipping your milkshake. “Does Pope know?”

Kie rolled her eyes and threw her hands out, Sarah watching intently. “Does Pope know what?”

“That you kissed JJ.” You said bluntly, eyes staring into hers.

"Wh-*cough*-What?!" Sarah's eyes went wide as she choked on her milkshake.

“‘Cause if he doesn’t and he’s already pushing you away like this? I can’t imagine how much he’ll hate you when he finds out.” You shrugged.

“...If.” Kiara corrected, shifting her. “If he finds out.”

You pursed your lips, looking up at the sky as you pretended to think while you shook your head. “When.” You corrected her correction before turning on your heel and walking towards the van. 

“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE THAT YOU’RE RELATED TO DENMARK TANNY.” John B exclaimed. You’d all returned to The Marina just as it had started to drizzle where Pope explained how his grandmother told him all about how Denmark Tanny and his wife, Cecilia, were Pope’s ancestors. “Are we in the presence of a royal?” John B teased, the six of you camped up under a roof of one of the shops.

“A king? We shall crown him.” JJ joked alongside JB, planting an imaginary crown on Pope’s head. “All hail the Lord of Tannyhill. We are not worthy!” He continued, the rest of you joining in on the chant before Pope stopped you all with a chuckle.

“Everybody relax. Can we relax, please?” He requested, the laughter fading lightly before his face faded into something more serious. “...I just keep thinking about the letter. The one Limbrey sent? It had the wheat symbol on it.” He pointed out. “That must mean it had something to do with the Royal Merchant.”

“Yeah. Somethin’ seems fishy…” JJ threw in.

“But if we find that cross, we can split it like we were gonna split the gold.” Pope continued, gleefully.

“And live happily ever after?” An uninvited voice rang out, the group of you turning to find none other than Carla Limbrey and her live-in bodyguard approaching. You all straightened, the expression on your faces going hard.

“You assaulted my father.” Pope was the first to speak, his lips curled in anger as he took steps towards the woman only to be pushed back by her accomplice. 

“Oh, I didn’t assault anybody.”

“He can identify the psycho from a mile away.” Kie assured, Carla turning to her.

“Why would my employee…” She trailed off, turning back to Pope. “Assault your father? That's absurd.” She laughed, like the whole ordeal was humorous. “Listen,” She started, limping towards Pope. “We can keep on negotiating but the fact is, I want the key.” She explained, her employee pushing Pope up against a support beam causing you all to jump up.

“Hey!” JJ shouted, being the closest to Pope.

“And I won’t stop until I have it. I don’t have a choice, which means you don’t either.” She spoke solely to Pope. She stared at him intensely, her gaze never wavering.

“It’s Limbrey, right?” You piped up, her eyes turning to you as you leaned against the wooden railing of the dock, swinging the gold key around your finger. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“...Yes, it is.” She said, her voice straining as she walked towards you slowly. 

“Looking at the tide right, I’d say it’s about…” You taunted, dangling the object dangerously over the water as you peaked at the waves then back at her. “Twenty feet deep out there? So, if I just threw it in the channel, the probability of you finding it again is slim to none.” You explained, sitting up straighter and extending your arm completely over the rail. “Wanna give it a shot?” You taunted, letting the key slip from your fingers.

“No! Hey!” Limbrey lunged forward, nearly tripping over her feet. She let out a sigh of relief when you swiftly caught key in your hand again before it even had the chance to really fall. “...Please don’t do that.” She pleaded. 

You could feel your eyes narrow as you relaxed against the rail again, the key fisted in your palm as you threw one arm out in the direction of her employee. “Get him to back the hell up.”

“...Back up.” She ordered, turning towards the man as he walked away from Pope, looking you up and down. Carla was quick to stand back in front of Pope once more, talking to him. “As I have told you from the beginning, I am willing to be reasonable.”

Pope eyes drifted towards you, probably catching on to the fact that the key you were torturing Limbrey with was fake, considering you were sure he had the real one on him. You nodded towards the boy, winking at him.

“...Okay.” He said, eyes back on Carla.

“Okay?” She seemed surprised at his cooperation.

“I’ll give you the key.” He told her, standing up straighter. “But I want the tape.”

“Of course-” Limbrey was quick to agree, but you felt like her employee was getting suspicious with the way he was eyeing you.

“Hey, Pope,” You stepped in, walking towards your friend. “You don’t have to do this, okay?” You told him, but your head was nodding slightly so he would catch your drift. Giving the key up to easily would only seem suspicious now. There had to be some kind of resistance on his end.

“No, it’s okay.”

“No, Pope, this is your family.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay…” Pope assured, putting his hand out for you to give him the key. “This is about your dads.” He added, eyes fleeting between you and John B. “That’s way more important.”

“Oh, you’re a good friend.” Limbrey sighed as you planted the key in Pope’s palm. 

“The tape?” Pope turned back to her, eyes never leaving hers. 

“Yes, give him the tape.” She ordered the man she brought with her, watching as he pulled a red tape recorder from inside of his jacket, handing it slowly to Pope. He didn’t hand Limbrey the key until the player was in his hand. “You know…” She started again, leaning into him. “I wish that you’d come to this decision earlier. We could’ve avoided all this unpleasantness.” She said before turning and walking off, her employee following behind but not before turning around with a smug smile on his face.

“It was nice seein’ ya, Pope.”

“Walk away before I beat your ass with her cane.” You told him bluntly, him offering the six of you one last grin before strutting off. You watched the pair leave, standing next to John B as a smile grew on your face. “How long do you think we have until she realizes she has your father’s old key?”

“Ten minutes.” He replied. 

Just then, Pope turned around with both of his arms out, a small relieved smile on his face. “Whose idea was the fake key?”

You and John B turned your attention to JJ who was trying to conceal the smile on his face. “Hmm, I don’t know. Should we tell him?” John B teased, throwing an arm around JJ’s shoulders.

“Did hell freeze over?” Pope asked, astounded.

“I’m impressed.” Kiara said. “Maybe you are good for something.”

“Even a blind pig can find an acorn at times.” JJ joked as Pope and JB tickled him, poking his ribs and ruffling his hair. 

“We gotta take this tape to Shoupe.” John B smiled, juggling the object in his hand as the released the blonde.

“Yes sir.” JJ jumped up. “Ward Cameron we’re comin’ for you, big boy!”

You didn’t miss the look of despondence on Sarah’s face. It was the visual epitome of being stuck between a rock and hard place. You knew what it was like to know someone’s a bad person but still feel obligated to love them. You seemed so easily detached from your mother that you never stopped to consider that maybe Sarah was having a hard time doing the same with her father.

“WHEN I GOT DOWN TO THE TARMAC, I SAW THE SHERIFF LYING DEAD ON THE GROUND.” Gavin’s voice came from the tape recorder planted on Shoupe’s desk. John B had requested that you go in with him to give the evidence to Shoupe while the others waited, considering you had cleared his name in the first place, he figured your help could do no harm. “And then Ward asked me to fly the gold to Nassau and dispose of the gun. He’s protecting his son.” The former pilot explained, Shoupe’s eyes drifting upwards to stare at you and John B. “It was Rafe Cameron who killed Sheriff Peterkin. I gotta be honest with you…I’m terrified. If anything happens to me, I’m telling you, it was Ward Cameron.”

John B looked up at Shoupe and the FBI Agent standing behind him, a deadpan look on his face. “I told you Shoupe…” He started, shaking his head slightly. “Ward killed both of our fathers and Gavin, and now you know Rafe killed Peterkin.”

Shoupe just licked his lips and nodded, taking a quick glance at the agent behind him. “...I know, kid. I know.”

Your brows furrowed at this. During your last conversation with Shoupe, right after you’d told him to drop the charges and right before you left his office, he left you with a few last words...

“I don’t know if I believe all of this, kid. And I can’t promise that this enough to get your friend out and put Ward behind bars. Maybe one or the other…but not both.”

Leaning forward in your seat, you gained Shoupe’s attention as his eyes turned to you. “What does that mean? ‘Cause last time I was here you said that the outcome we have right now was nearly impossible.”

The man just sighed, slowly rising from his chair as it rolled against the floor. He put both of his hands on his belt and cleared his throat. “We’ve issued arrest warrants for both Ward and Rafe…as well as your mother and any department employees involved. Rafe is currently in custody, the other warrants are being carried out as we speak. I can’t give ya anymore than that.”

“LLLLADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WARD CAMERON, KING OF THE KOOKS, IS GOING TO JAIL!” JJ’s voice boomed from the inside of The Chateau. The guys were inside celebrating Ward’s takedown as you rounded the corner of the porch, finding a solemn Sarah sitting criss-cross on the patio furniture with Kiara right across from her, giggling at the guys antics.

You sat the opposite side of the blonde girl just Kiara looked to her, the brown-haired girl’s face falling at Sarah’s expression.

“...Do you regret it?”

Sarah was quick to reply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No.” She stated firmly, biting the inside of her cheek. “He deserves all of it, and I know that. It’s just…” She cut herself off with a teary sigh, her voice returning with a quiver to it as her eyes filled with tears. “He’s still my dad. I can’t just pretend like he’s not.”

“No, I get it.” Kiara tried to comfort, scooting closer and planting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I understand-”

“But you don’t, Kie.” Sarah blurted, a tear falling from her eye as her nose and cheeks took on a shade of red. “I know you’re trying to help but you just don’t get it...” She said, rising from her seat and swiftly walking off into the direction of the backyard and out into the rain. 

You didn’t know if it was weird of you to go after her, considering Sarah and Kie were closer but you figured after Kiara sat there with no intention of getting up that it was okay to do so. Getting up from your seat and walking off to follow Sarah, you stepped out into the drizzling rain, going towards her figure that was stood at the edge of the tall grass on the shore of The Marsh, her arms hugging herself as she looked out at the water.

As you got closer and stood next to her, you could hear small sniffles leaving her nose. Maybe she didn’t regret helping turn her dad in but it was clear as day to anyone that she was upset.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to talk to…” You spoke up after a few moments of silence, Sarah looking at you briefly. “But I think I’m the only person who can relate to how you’re feeling, right now.”

“You don’t have to come out here in the rain to make me feel better.” She sighed, fully turning to you now, damp strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. “Especially after everything I’ve put you through.”

“Sarah, I already told you that I forgive you-”

“But why?” She cried, swinging her arms out to her sides. “It would be one thing if I didn’t believe you but I made your life a living hell and I didn’t even like my brother then. How can you just forgive me so…so easily?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault.” You told her, moving your own pieces of damp hair out of your vision. “I know that right now you probably think you’re no better than them, your dad and brother. But you are not responsible for the bad things that they did to other people. Yes, you made my life hell and maybe I’ll always hold that small grudge against you. But you didn’t kill Peterkin, and you didn’t kill my dad, or Big John, or Gavin.” You explained. “And unlike them, Sarah, you owned up to your mistakes. You apologized to me and Kiara and you’ve become a better person for it.”

“..But why do I feel bad for still loving him?” She whined, tears falling faster now. “I tore myself away from Rafe after he tried to drown me but my dad…he’s still my dad. And I know he’s done bad things, really bad things, and I will never forgive him but for some reason, going against him puts this pit in my stomach that I can’t get rid of because ...he’s my dad.”

“But that’s the thing, Sarah,” You began, stepping closer to her. “He’s not your dad anymore.” You told her, putting a hand on her upper arm gently. “The way I think of it? He’s just a shell of the man you used to know. Like with my mom — I know it seems like I’m okay and that I hate her and that’s that, right? But that’s not true. I miss my mom. So much. But not the mom that being hunted down by the police right now.” You explained, your own voice wavering. “I miss the mom that would listen to my shitty guitar playing after my dad taught me chords and convinced me I was the greatest in the world. I miss the mom that would make cookies with me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. The mom I miss would never do the things that the woman I know now has done. Any of it. And I know it’s a hard thing, to separate who you grew up with and who you’ve come to know but Ward isn’t the father you knew, Sarah. He’s the monster you know now.”

Sarah just sniffled and nodded, processing your words as she wiped the tears and rainwater from her face.

“...And as for that grudge?” You started, a small smile on your face. “Maybe I’d be more inclined to let it go if you helped me out with something. Just a small little side quest…” You shrugged cutely as her brows pinched together. “Got any clue where Rafe would hide a stolen dog at Tannyhill?”

You managed to get a small chuckle out of the girl before her phone started to ring, Sarah fishing the device out of her back pocket — Topper’s contact card bright on display as her eyes darted to yours.

“We might have to postpone that heist…” She said, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Topper’s voice came through, his voice faint and distorted through the phone. “Sorry to be the, uh, bearer of bad news here but…they’re coming for your dad.” He told her, Sarah letting out a deep breath. “My grandpa just signed the warrant.” He explained. You forgot his grandfather was a judge. “So, if you have anything you want to say to him, I would do it now. Just wanted you know.”

“Thanks.” Sarah replied, voice small and weak as she stared at her sneakers. She removed the phone from her ear and ended the call, sighing deeply.

You shot her a tight-lipped smile, a look of pity. “I’ll get everyone and we’ll go with you.”

THE TWINKIE WAS GOING AS FAST IT COULD DOWN THE NARROW STREET WHEN THREE COP CARS SPED BY,  headed in the direction of Tannyhill.

“Shit…” Kie breathed, eyes trailing the speeding vehicle as she looked out of the window.

“Oh my God,” Sarh sighed, eyes wide as the severity of the situation set in. “Can we please hurry? I need to be there for Wheezie.”

“You think I wanna miss this?” John B said bluntly. Ouch. The statement and the way he said it even hurt you, so you weren’t surprised by the mean side-eye that Sarah gave him from the passenger seat. 

The four of you in the back exchanged glances. There was a lot going on and it was difficult to know what each of your worried looks were for — Sarah, John B, or Sarah and John B’s relationship.

It wasn’t long before the van pulled up right behind one of the parked cop cars outside of Tannyhill, right outside the concrete wall. You all nearly tripped over one another scrambling to exit the van before it even came to a full stop — the sound of police chatter, footsteps, and sirens in the distance. 

You all stood on your tiptoes, peering over the wall.

“Holy shit.”

“I can’t see, bro.”

None of you had a good view but you could see a small swarm of officers running towards the dock where Ward kept his boats while Rose stood helplessly by the door. 

“Screw it.” John B said out of nowhere. “I’m going over.” He warned before hurling himself over the wall, the five of you watching as he landed on the other side. You looked at each other before following his lead, landing in the grass.

You all jogged through the freshly cut grass, approaching the doors where Rose stood just in time to see Wheezie rushing out as Rose tried to stop her.

“What’s going on?” The young girl asked, eyes on the huddle of officers by the water. “Why are the police here?”

“Wheezie…” Sarah called her sister’s name in relief, walking faster in order to reach the girl and pull her into a hug.

“Why are the police here again?” Wheezie asked, her voice soft and curious. 

“Go inside,” Sarah told her, caressing the back of her head before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Don’t come out.” Wheezie looked at her older sister with confusion and concern before nodding and turning to go back inside, a teary-eyed Rose guiding the girl back inside.

You couldn’t help but subconsciously notice that there was no sign of Marley — no paw prints, no food bowls, no leash, nothing. Not that he’d take that much care of her anyway. But it didn't look like a dog was being kept here. You felt bad for thinking about that at a time like this but if Rafe wasn’t holding her at Tannyhill, you could only think of one other place he’d take her, and if you were right then getting her back just became a whole lot more dangerous…

“Sarah,” Rose called before shutting the patio door, her voice scratchy. “Your father, he…he’s out on The Druther’s.” She told her, Sarah wasting no time in jogging in that direction before Rose could finish. “But I don’t think you should- Sarah!”

She tried to call her back but it was no use and the rest of you could do nothing more but follow Sarah out to the docks. Through the grass and over the wood, about six or so officers formed a line, effectively blocking the entrance as the group of you approached the scene.

“Dad!” Sarah cried, seeing her father’s figure on the third story of The Druther’s.

The officer’s attention turned to you all, holding their hands out to stop you all from going any further when Shoupe’s voice rang.

“That’s Sarah Cameron! Let her through!” He ordered, motioning you all through with one hand as the officers stepped to the side.

“What are you doing here, Sarah?!” Ward called tearfully from the top of his boat. He looked genuinely terrified. 

“Dad, what’re you doing?!” She called from the docks as you all walked behind her, forming a sort of line on the wooden surface, officers on each side.

“Vic, you gotta get her out of here!” Ward’s attention went to Shoupe, pleading with the man. “She can’t be here right now!” He was straining his voice so much, you would think he was about to die, not be arrested.

“Just come on in, and you can talk to her!” Shoupe tried to reason, throwing his arms out in Sarah’s direction, trying to find anyway for Ward to turn himself in.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry, baby,” He continued to cry, going inside of the cockpit for a moment. It looked like he was flipping switches which made the officers weary. “I can’t!” Suddenly, the anchor started to reel itself out of the water.

If they didn’t get any units in the water by now or anytime soon, you feared Ward would get away. Once again.

“What’re you doing?!” Sarah called, stepping closer to the edge of the dock. “Dad, no, no, no!”

“Ward!” Shoupe stepped in, applying more pressure. “This ain’t gonna end the way you want it to!” Your prayers were answered and Shoupe’s warning was proven when four police water units came cruising towards The Druther’s, lights and sirens on display. “You don’t need her seeing this!”

Sarah’s jaw couldn’t close as she eyed each of the approaching boats, one after the other. Anyone within five feet of the girl could hear her labored, stuttering breaths. Just then, Ward started to climb down to the second level of the boat, causing Sarah to cry out once more.

“Dad, don’t leave!” Her voice cracked, at a pitch so high you’d question if it was even her voice. “Where are you going?!”

“I love you!” Ward assured, landing on his feet on the second level deck.

“Hey! Damn it, Ward!” Shoupe cursed. “Turn it around and get back in here!”

“Dad! No!” Sarah cried hysterically, watching as Ward closed himself off in the boat where no one could see him. The four units in the water were closing in on him —where did he plan to go? “Please don’t leave!” Sarah croaked one last time when suddenly the bottom of The Druther’s blew, sending a wave of silence over everyone.

Even the boats in the water slowed, not wanting to get to close to the wreckage as it blew again, each blast getting higher and higher, hitting each story of The Druther’s. Each boom sent each of you back a step, hearing Sarah’s breath hitch was what broke your heart.

You all threw your arms up, shielding yourselves from the debris and shrapnel that was now flying in the air as easily as dust. A thick cloud of dark grey filled the air, metal and other materials floating down into the water as everyone just stared.

It was silent until Sarah started to hyperventilate, a hand on her chest as you watched as her knees began to give out. “No, no.” She struggled to get out, a hand hovering over her throat as she cried. “Dad…dad!” You know someone should’ve helped her or comforted her but it was like none of you could. You were frozen in place, watching the boat go up in flames.

You couldn’t believe this. No, really. You couldn’t. Despite the fire and the smoke and the boat now in pieces, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

Ward was dead?

You were supposed to believe that Ward was dead? 

How could any kind of universe allow him the easy way out? How was that fair?

You didn’t even really notice Topper, who’d appeared out of nowhere but seemingly just on time, catch Sarah just as she fell. You saw it out of you peripheral, but your sights never left that burning boat.

Ward…was dead.

Ward Cameron was dead.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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©loveharlow.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Peeta as the smallest of 3 brothers definitely had to resort to dirty plays like biting in his youth.

First off, you're right and you should say it. Second off, Peeta being the youngest is 1000% a dynamic in his relationship with Katniss once they start to recover.

No bc listen. I was the youngest of three siblings and while we never got into physical fights I learned QUICK how to use my mouth to win what battles couldn't be fought physically because my siblings would 100% go to jail for trying to rock a 3 y/os shit. So Peeta was running his mouth religiously around the household. Can't tell me otherwise. "If it weren't for the baby??" Girl, he was biting AND flappin his lips. 100% would get pinned to the ground by his brothers and be like "wow I feel bad for your girlfriend" before getting his shit rocked. He'll offer them tips inbetween punches. "Aim for the throat. Wow, you're still pathetic."

Second, Katniss is the eldest, Peeta is the youngest in their families. Once they're more secure in their relationship, Peeta is 100% causing fun! problems 24/7. She's stressed the fuck out she's gonna come home one day from hunting again and half the house is repainted with all of the furniture just shoved into one big pile away from the drying walls like "WHY DID YOU DO THIS??" "bored :))" because he's so dangerously intelligent, I'm thoroughly convinced he's a practical fucking moron. He probably had to create his own entertainment as a child, he's used to being ignored. If he gets an idea to rearrange the furniture, he just does it. Katniss and Haymitch both have to intervene with how much this happens because Katniss complained about it to Effie once, and Effie started rambling about this thing called "feng-shui," and now Peeta is completely obsessed and will spend several hours to the point of obsession planning with Effie not just his decor, but literally fucking everyones, and Katniss tried to warn Haymitch "Hey, we need to fucking stop this," and Haymitch just said "get out of my house." But now Haymitch is too sober to deal with the constantly changing furniture, and why is this idiot painting his ceiling, and can you please pick up a hobby that doesn't involve majorly changing the layout of our houses? Peeta says no. Katniss instead comes home to Peeta having several geese chasing him at Haymitchs training. He's been waiting for an excuse to reveal this.

She stops feeling bad for needing his constant comfort once he starts biting her out of boredom. Oh, come on. You can see it. He would absolutely look at her arm one night and go "you look nice :))" before taking a giant fucking bite that makes her question every decision she made from age 16-18. There's a solid minute where they just sit in their bed at a standstill. She's holding her book in shock, he's just frozen still biting her. She says "What the fuck" he says "nostalgia :))" to which she's further confused and slightly terrified. She learns how to duck. He learns how to lure her in easier. Post-canon angst + comfort is cute, give me chaotic Peeta torturing his wife who just wants five minutes of peace but secretly adores her dangerously clever idiot of a husband

Imagine when they have kids. That woman is gonna go from "peetas baby!" To "your child."

He likes tossing the motherfuckers in the air. He's the kinda dad who will take off RUNNING with the shopping cart, shove the thing as far away as he can and just wave "bye bye! :))" to the baby inside of the cart that's laughing wildly while Katniss is just chasing this fucking thing down through the store like it's the quarter quell all over again and everyone else is just watching like "Jesus Christ he's doing it again." It gets worse when Peeta collaborates his children with the attacking geese to use against Haymitch when he tries to prevent him from repainting his ceiling again.

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

(MDNI 18+, smut will be eventually happening in this story line but still please respect the MDNI)

(Plus size reader x Negan. In the world of the dead rising, you just happen to fall for the one fucked up person who has no interest in you. And I am aware the timeline doesn't add up but for the story I had to make the timeline longer than a couple months.)

~Thank you to all that read the first chapter and commented, means a lot that you like this story. Sorry for taking so long to post a second chapter, I have at least 2 more chapters up and ready to post when I can.~

(Word Count - 2262 Words.)

~<3~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWO - I FELL HARD, YOU'LL FALL HARDER.

~<3~-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were out scavenging when the fall of Negan happened. You didn't want to fight anyone, so Rick asked you to go during that time, making your way on a weeklong journey for supplies. You weren't sure what you to expect when you returned home, was it still going to be there, was it going to be taken over by Negan fully or would Rick win this war. You didn't know and you were worried, you were uncertain what you would do it Negan came out the winner.

You approached the gates carefully looking around for the day shift guard. You sighed relief when Daryl popped his head up and smiled at you, the gates opening before you drove your vehicle inside slowly.

"Welcome back you, how was your mission?" Daryl said hugging you tightly.  "Was a great success, the truck is full of food, ammo everything I could pick up and stack I did, even managed to grab a little bit of petrol for the car. We should be ok for a couple weeks."  You say as you open the door and jump out of the truck. "Well that is good news Y/N but I got some bad news that you may not like unfortunately." Daryl said looking over to the jail cell that was located under the first house on the street.   "What?" You look over and don't see anything, was someone hurt, dead or worse. "Rick, well he, kind of let Negan live and bought him back as a prisoner" Daryl says waiting for your response. 

You felt yourself become sick, why would Rick do that?  "But Y/N he can't hurt anyone, trust us, he is safe and locked away." You walk over to the barred windows; you can hear him whistling before he spots you. "Hello Y/N" Negan says smiling.  Daryl comes up behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder offering a small comfort. "You look amazing doll, have I ever told you that? Loving the long hair on you, suits you." You want to believe him, but you tell yourself that he is just doing this to get under your skin, to get a reaction out of you. 

"Daryl, doesn't she look wonderful, you are a fucking lucky man to be hers." "We ain't dating." Daryl says to Negan, he lets out a long whistle, "Well shit why not?" Negan probes, feeling a bit of jealousy flowing within him. "We're just friends Negan; not that its none of your business who I date anyway" you say.

While you weren't going to deny Daryl was hot, and when you met him you thought maybe if given the chance you might date him but after a while your love for him turned to more a friendship love and you and him were more like brother and sister. "Let's just get this truck unloaded Daryl" you say pulling him away from the prisoner.  Negan watches you go, he takes in how your jeans hug your curves tightly, how your hair flows underneath the bandana you are sporting and how amazing you look covered in knives and guns. This wasn't the same scared girl he rescued years ago, this was a woman who found herself, her confidence and her place and damn he was proud of you.  Every day he would watch you work; watch you talk with the men and women of the community and play with the kids on your down time. He noticed the way you smiled when someone said something to you that you found funny and how quickly you were to react to whatever danger that tried to enter your home.  Each passing day he sat there silently, admiring you, wishing he could talk to you again, missing your new fiery wit and sharp tongue. 

He often found himself wondering if you would have had the same spitfire nature back at the Sanctuary, was it hiding inside you, waiting till the right time to be release. You radiated confidence in everything you did.  Negan was somewhat sad that he wasn't the one who bought it out in the first place.

Negan was waiting for his dinner as usual, waiting for Gabe to bring it down but was surprised when you came down those stairs holding the tray instead. He noticed how you kept your head down and quickly passed it under the bars, the sound of it scraping on the concrete breaking the silence in the small room. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of my life?" Negan asks, placing the tray on his cot. 'Gabe usually keeps me company while I eat." "Yeah, well I am not Gabe and if I had my way you wouldn't be getting anything from our pantry." You snap at him. "Especially nothing I risked my ass for" 

"Shouldn't you be happy? If you had stayed with me, you would have been either captured, dead or abandoned again but here you are safe, and sound and I am the one being treated like a caged animal at the zoo." Negan says take a bite of his bread. You glare at him "I would be happier if you had never came here, if Rick didn't bring you back alive as far as I am concerned, you're still a threat to us." "I am unarmed, I have no men, no followers, nothing. I am not a threat."  "You could kill a man with your bare hands, I fucking witnessed it once and that is a risk I really don't want to take, but since Rick is leader and he is content with you being kept like an animal then I have no say."

You get up to leave when you hear Negan say, "I'm sorry". You turn back to him, and he is standing at the bars, his arms hanging out casually, staring at you. "What did you say?"

"I said I am sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said back then. You were right, I was scared that I was going to lose it all and in the end I did. To me you were never overweight, you were perfect. You made me feel things that I haven't felt in a goddamn long time. Your smile, laugh, the way you look at me as if the world shone out my ass was why I could start my day, just knowing I could talk to you was enough for me."

"A little late for your "kind" words now don't Cha think? You could be saying this now so I will forgive you and let you go" you say pointing out the obvious. "I can tell you that I will not be the one setting you free" You growl as he gaze softens.

"I am 100% telling the truth. The day after you left, I went to your room to talk to you, when I entered and found it empty I went and searched the entire compound for you, I had Simon patrolling outside hoping you were just trying to prove something to us but when night fell, and you didn't come back I knew I fucked up and then you show up here that day and the feelings I felt seeing you, I can't describe."

"And yet you didn't learn, you did the same thing to Olivia. If you hadn't of said shit, maybe I would still be flying under the Negan radar." "You're right, I didn't learn and what I said to Olivia wasn't nice at all. I hurt you twice without even thinking." 

You stand there looking at the once powerful Negan, "You are pathetic, a man like you never learns." You snarl as you get closer to the bars, "You are going to rot in here." You were so close to him; you could feel his breathe on your face.  Negan was getting pissed off, he had tried to apologize, something that he never did, and you spat it back at him. He didn't want you to forgive right away but you didn't even give it time to sink it. You were so close, so angry, he couldn't help but get turned on, the scent of you drove him crazy.

  He grabbed your arms, slamming you into the bars, you fought against him, but he covered your lips with his and you stopped fighting for a moment. Your lips were warm and soft just like he had imagined. His facial hair tickled your skin as you felt his tongue glide against you closed lips. You pulled away from his grip, using the back of your hand to wipe your lips of his kiss, you stood there staring in shock a minute before storming out of the cell and heading home. Negan watched you rush home, he could see your house from his cell, it was one of his past time favorites, watching you in your room, the silhouette of you always got his attention. When you thought no-one was watching you would sit on the windowsill and have a smoke, or just stare at the stars. Negan would watch you, wishing he could join you, to hear you laugh and smile at him as you spoke to each other.

His fingers touched his lips, remembering how soft they were, he had been wanting to kiss you since the day he found you. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Negan didn't see you around the compound, you didn't leave for a supply run, so you had to be in your home. "If you are looking for Y/N she not feeling well today so Rick gave her the day off" Gabe said passing him his food under the cell door. "Is she ok?" Negan asks not in the mood to eat, looking at the tray on the floor. "You tell me, she has never once taken a day off sick and the one time she comes down here and she is "unwell"? Want to tell me what happened?" Gabe ask sitting down next to Negan's cell.

"Nothing happened, she gave me the food and that is it" Negan lies. "I am a priest Negan, think of this like a confessional, whatever you say stays between us." Negan looks at the priest then sits next to him. "I tried to apologize for my past behavior, but she wasn't having any of it. Words got heated and when she got close enough, I grabbed her and kissed her, I don't know why I did that I just had the urge to pull her in, kiss her crazy but then she left without saying anything" Negan confesses.

Gabe looks at the man next to him, he now understands why you stayed home today.  "Listen, I know I should not be doing this, but I will. First just I suggest give her time, I'll try and send her down next week to deliver your food, I can't promise anything ok" Negan nods and watches the man leave.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 DAYS LATER

Daryl comes to grab you for a supply run with him. You place you knife and guns on your hip and calf and walk over to his bike, knowing full well who is watching you. "Good morning, Y/N, I heard you have been sick lately I hope you are ok now" Negan says giving you that cocky smile you knew him for. "I don't need your concern Negan." You tie the bandana around your head and lean on Daryl's bike. "I don't want to hear that you have been unwell. Especially since you were the last one to see me before you got sick. Who knows what you gave me with our kiss." You look around and make sure no-one heard him; you storm over to his window. "What the fuck are you doing?" You growl as you kneel down. "I am doing nothing Y/N. I don't want to get sick to." He tilts his head as he looks at you. "You know damn well I am fine." "Which brings me to my next question, why were you hiding and pretending to be sick, surely the kiss wasn't that bad.?" "I was embarrassed ok" That was a lie, but you had hoped he couldn't tell.  "You are OUR prisoner; it makes me look bad if anyone finds out about it." "We are adults, we can do what we want, why would it look bad?" Negan pushes you.

"If anyone in this community finds out our past it wouldn't look too good for me or Rick. He is the one keeping my secret about where I come from" You say spying Daryl approaching and you get up to leave. "You want me" Negan watches you turn around to face him again "Don't deny it, that kiss was just the tip of the iceberg. You may have told yourself that you have no feelings, nothing, for me but that is a lie, you want me just as much as I want you." You listen to him carefully and shake your head. " You only want me now because I am unattainable and skinny. You wouldn't be saying that if it was fat me" You leave before he can shout out anything. "Hey Daryl" you say as he hops on his bike, you jump on behind him, hugging his waist tightly as he goes to start the bike, you smirk back at Negan, resting your head on Daryl's back. "Hold on" Daryl shouts as he starts the bike up and rides out the gates. Negan feels the pits of jealously rising inside him.

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[hijinxinprogress]

Young Justice spends all of their time violating the Geneva conventions or mocking their mentors bc they’re traumatized theater kids without any capacity for a verbal filter which is also why they’re not allowed to watch movies at the tower

YJ is watching some hero movie and a character with a gruff voice sternly says “we don’t kill…we’re better than that” so Tim gives the most dramatic sigh and goes “this is giving me back the migraine from our last lecture from the league” which leads to YJ doing their best to dramatically reenact disappointed justice league lectures

Cissie, offhandedly: Most superheroes having that dumbass code that’s some variation of “we don’t kill, we’re better than that…” make me fucking nauseous because who’s we? I’ll have you know my mother assures me that I’m a piece of shit everyday so no I’m not better than this.

Greta, in a mocking disappointed tone: Cissie! I’m very surprised at your behavior, we’ve taught you better than that! We’re here to protect people not to hurt them

Kon, in his best angry Cissie impression: Well, who’s gonna protect my sleep schedule? You woke me up at 3am to stop some idiot that wanted to steal kryptonite? Are you serious?They’re not going to jail they’re going to the nearest cemetery that I can promise you

Anita, in a dramatic hero pose: I’m not like you…you made me realize something, I have friends and people that love me so I’m not going to-

Bart, doing an excellent mimicry of Anita’s unimpressed face: He killed your family wdym you’re better than that, that’s dumb as hell you even look at anyone I know with the tiniest hint of malice you’re leaving in a bodybag

Kon, turning to Bart and making his voice echo the way Greta’s does when she’s annoyed: what is this nonsense I wouldn’t let anyone get away with doing that to you guys I promise they’d suffer immensely

Cassie, hovering in the air doing a terrible impression of disappointed superman: We can’t kill because then we’re no better than they are

Anita, glaring at Cassie with her best Kon impression: I’m okay with that…let’s not pretend you don’t expect this from me, am I supposed to care? They deserve to suffer, why should I be the only one that has to suffer?

Anita, pretending to storm off dramatically while Cassie tries to look disapproving:

Cissie, doing her angry Bart impression: You’re not gonna waste people I actually like then get to chill in jail and breakout in a couple days

Tim, in a dramatic ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ tone: I’m not sure how you did things in the future but you can’t do things like this, do you understand?

Cissie, snorting and crossing her arms in the agitated way Bart does: I understand that our first fight will be our last because we’re not doing this shit again I’m not superman

Greta, in a gruff Batman voice: People can change if you give them a chance

Cassie, in a sarcastic Tim impression: I’ll start a timer I’ll even give him five minutes why are you playing with me rn Batman

Bart, sighing disappointedly: You're so angry and I wish you’d find an appropriate outlet for all this aggression. You don’t know what taking a life will do to you, what it’ll take from you….

Tim, in an irritated Kon impression: why not? we can find out let’s do an experiment and find out I like science I’m game hbu??

Cassie, who does the second best Batman voice: Neither of you can even begin to understand-! How do you know you won’t end up ending low tier criminals like pickpocketers? We can’t play judge, jury, and executioner… what happens when you’re wrong? What’s going to stop you?

Greta, fiddling with a phone and shrugging before giving Cassie Tim’s patented ‘I can ruin your life and you’ve just given me a reason’ look while doing her impression of the way Tim stands when he’s pissed and rolling her eyes: Self control? Common sense? When have my hunches ever been wrong? Don’t play with my intelligence, it will not work out for you

Bart, doing his best to copy the way Cassie stands and messes with their hair when they’re pissed: I’m just saying, if you blow up a city block you lose air privileges I have debris in my shoes rn for what?

[JL was meeting with a bunch of reporters in the tower and later had to do a lot of damage control after the press released a statement about the JL failing to rehabilitate young villains]

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 18) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Chapter 18

You store your backpack in the lockers provided for the purpose, then step into the line for the metal detector. You looked up what to expect when you visit somebody in jail, and so far everything checks out. It’s a long line. You wait your turn, step through the metal detector with no incident, and make your way up to the check-in desk. The officer behind it gives you a cursory glance. “Name?”

You give it, along with your birthdate, and she types it into her computer. A moment later her expression relaxes. She’s just seen that you’re quirkless, which means she can let you in without any special accommodations or extra guards. “Who are you here to see?”

“Aiba Manami,” you say. “My cousin.”

You haven’t been reading the news very much. You wouldn’t have known that Manami and the villain she works with had been arrested if Isuzu hadn’t texted you in all caps, asking if you’d seen the news and dropping the link when you said you hadn’t. And sure enough, there was Manami’s picture, right next to her villain crush’s at the top of the article – only they didn’t call her Aiba Manami. They called her La Brava, the name her villain gave her.

Isuzu was scandalized when you asked if anyone in the family had gone to visit her. You knew that meant no, so on your next three-day gap, you made plans to go see her. And here you are, hanging out in a visitation room, waiting for the guards to bring her in. You’re the only one in this particular room, and you know why. Manami’s quirk is useless without her villain nearby, and they’ve almost certainly separated them. And you don’t have a quirk, so you're useless overall. It’s safe. Enough.

When the guards bring Manami in, it’s clear that she’s been crying. A lot. Her eyes are red, and her permanent dark circles are augmented by bruises from rubbing them. She looks shocked to see you at first, but it’s not long before her eyes fill with tears again. “I didn’t think anyone would come. The family is so mad –”

“Fuck the family,” you say. Tomura and the others must be rubbing off on you. You never used to swear this much, as evidenced by the fact that Manami’s jaw drops and a startled, nervous laugh sneaks out. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve been kind of keeping my head down.”

Manami’s gaze sharpens. “Why?”

“Um – no reason. Not really.” You need to be more careful. There’s nothing you’ve said so far that doesn’t sound suspicious. “Should we sit down?”

Manami sits down on the table, and you sit down in a chair. She’s so tiny that even the height boost from the table doesn’t put her at eye level with you. “How are you doing?” you ask, before she can ask you anything. “I don’t know all of what happened, obviously, but I – um –”

“Gentle fought Midoriya, and he lost.” Manami sniffles, while you try to conceal your shock. Midoriya Izuku really gets around. “My love wasn’t strong enough.”

“I bet that’s not it,” you say at once. “That kid’s just berserk. Nobody who runs into him gets away clean.”

Manami picks her head up out of her hands to give you a weird look. You look back, trying not to panic. Your brain-dead civilian act won’t work on Manami – she’s known you your whole life, and she knows the kind of tricks you play to fly under the radar. Then her gaze slides away from yours, and her eyes fill with tears again. “If I had just loved him more –���

“Did he say that? Your – uh, Gentle?” If he did, you and he are going to have words at some point. You might not be very intimidating, but your friends are terrifying, and you’ve picked up a few tricks from them.

“No.” Manami wipes her eyes again. “Of course not. Gentle loves me. He would never. Have you – have you seen him? I don’t even know where he’s being held.”

You shake your head. “I can find out if you want.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! I haven’t seen him in so long!” Manami’s expression transforms. You really hope that’s not what you look like when you think about Tenko. “You should meet him. He’s the most handsome man in the world, and he’s so refined and elegant – and honorable – and tall! Tall boys always thought I was too short, but he can carry me around all day if he wants to.”

You absorb that image with some difficulty. “Nobody in here understands,” Manami continues. “They say I’m too nice to have ended up a villain, but they’re only saying that now that it’s too late. Everyone was cruel to me before. None of them cared. Except him.”

She looks back at you, her eyes bright. “Our charges aren’t that bad. They can’t keep us here forever. I know we’ll be together again once we’re out.”

You envy her confidence, and the fact that she’s right. If Tenko gets captured, he’s never getting out of prison. The only way you’ll be together is if he wins. “I’ll find out where Gentle is,” you promise, and Manami smiles. It shouldn’t be hard to do. Kazuo could probably find out without even touching his quirk. “I’d like to meet him sometime. I’m glad there’s somebody who makes you this happy.”

“Really?” Manami looks surprised. “My mom called me and yelled at me about him. And my dad. Everybody.”

“Fuck them,” you say patiently. The sooner Manami picks up that attitude about your whole stupid family, the better. “If he treats you well and makes you happy, that’s what I care about. Even if he likes tea a little too much.”

“Ugh, that’s how we got caught!” Manami flops backwards onto the table. “Midoriya Izuku ran into us and Gentle had to say something about him ruining the aftertaste of the special tea – and then Midoriya knew about the tea – so then Gentle had to talk to him about it –”

This sounds like a train wreck. “I didn’t know tea could do that.”

“Me. Either.” Manami sighs. “He was so excited that somebody else might like the weird stuff he likes. I can’t be mad at him for loving stuff. Even if he was dumb about it.”

She glances at you. “What would you do if your boyfriend was doing something dumb?”

“Drag him out of there.” That’s basically what you did that night in the convenience store, and you and Tenko weren’t even dating. “But I’m taller than you. It works a little better.”

“I knew it!” Manami crows, and you jump. “I knew you had a boyfriend! You didn’t even deny it.”

Manami’s sneaky. You forgot about that. “I was being hypothetical.”

“No you weren’t. You aren’t very good at makeup,” Manami says. You freeze. “Maybe you could fool a boy, but any girl could see that hickey from space.”

You clap your hand over the side of your neck, but it’s already way too late, and Manami laughs so hard she starts crying again. Maybe you’re bad at makeup, but you’re going to blame this one on Tenko – Tenko, who missed being crushed to death by inches seven times during the last fight cycle, and was so strung out on adrenaline that you could barely get him to focus long enough to try to fuck him to sleep. If he couldn’t focus on that, there was no way he could focus on not being loud, and he bit down hard on you to muffle himself so the others wouldn’t figure out what was going on.

There wasn’t time for you to grab a condom, so your first errand of the next fight cycle was the morning-after pill, followed by drugstore-brand makeup to cover up the bite mark. Apparently you did a bad job. A really bad job. “How do I fix it?”

“Tell me about the boy first.” Manami wipes her eyes. “Do you have a picture?”

You do. It’s old, and it’s in a locket around your neck, and your hand twitches upwards to it before you can stop yourself. Manami’s eyes track the motion. “Let me see.”

You hesitate. There’s a chance that Manami will be able to recognize Tenko – she went to your fifth and sixth birthday parties, and he was at both of them – but even if she recognizes him as a kid, she probably won’t be able to match his face to Tomura’s as an adult. You unclasp the locket and hand it over. “This is him as a kid. I don’t have a recent one.”

“Oh, he’s cute.” Manami tilts her head, studying the photo – and then her eyes widen. Her voice goes whisper-quiet, so much that you have to lean in to hear. “He’s alive?”

You nod. “He’s who I think he is,” Manami says, and you nod again. Of course she guessed. She’s a villain, and you know for a fact that villains keep track of each other’s press clippings. You should have thought of that, but you didn’t. Maybe you wanted her to know. “How?”

“They took him.” You’re not sure how else to phrase it subtly. Manami closes the locket and hands it back to you. Her hand is shaky. Yours is steady. “I’m lucky I found him again.”

“Lucky?” Manami shakes her head. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? Look at your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend is a gentleman thief. He’s refined and elegant and he wants to write his name into history by making things better.” Manami’s proud of him, proud in a way you can’t be proud of Tenko, and your stomach twists with guilt. “Yours did – that.”

She’s pointing at the bite mark on your neck, the one she was teasing you over a few minutes ago. Now it’s something evil, just because of who left it there. “I could be into that,” you say, and she gives you a frustrated look. “It’s not any different than you.”

“It is. Look at me.” Manami gestures to herself, her eyes brightening with tears again. “Me and Gentle don’t hurt anyone. Gentle wants to help people and show them another way. What does your boyfriend want?”

To tear the world down, so something better can be built by people who know what needs to be fixed – but he has to tear it down first, and that will come with casualties. Lots of them. You’re slow to answer, trying to package it in a way that doesn’t sound insane and terrifying, and Manami takes your hesitation for what it is. “You don’t have to do this,” she says. “You’re not like I was. You have friends. You have a real job you like, and you’re normal. I mean, quirkless, but normal.”

Not quirkless, but that doesn’t matter. You stare her down, daring her to say what she actually means. To her credit, she does. “You don’t have a reason to do this,” Manami says, and she talks right over you when you protest that you do. “That means you have a choice. It doesn’t have to be him.

“I don’t have a choice,” you say. If she’d just let you talk, you could have explained, but you don’t need that many words to do it. “I –”

You’re trying to say you love him. If you can’t say you love him – to your cousin, who knows all about love that ruins you – who can you say it to? You try again. “I don’t have a choice. I – I lo – I do. I lo –”

Manami’s hand clamps down over your mouth. “Don’t,” she orders. “You have to save it.”

“What?” Your voice is muffled. “I can’t say it. I’m trying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I say –”

“You can. You have to save it for when it counts.” The door to the visitation room opens, and over Manami’s shoulder, you see a guard step through. Two guards. No, three. “You’ll find Gentle, won’t you? You promised –”

“I’ll find him,” you say. You grasp Manami’s hand, hold it tight. “And I’ll be back to visit you. I promise.”

“Please think about what I said,” Manami says. She looks worried – worried, and sad, and even when the guards come to collect her, she hesitates long enough to try one more time. “It’s not too late. You don’t have to be like me.”

You thought you and Manami would be on the same page about things, since you’re both in love with villains, but apparently not. Apparently Manami sees the League as much worse than Gentle Criminal, just like the League sees Overhaul as worse than they are – and she’s worried about you. Yoshimi’s worried about you, according to Mitsuko and Ryuhei, but Manami’s worry worries you more. And then there was what she said while you were stuttering and panicking around the admission that you love someone you’ve loved in one way and another for almost your entire life. Save it for when it counts. What does that mean?

“Wait.” A guard stops you as you try to walk out through the metal detector and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Take that off.”

He’s pointing at your locket, and your hand flies up to cover it. “Yeah, that,” the guard says. “Take it off before you walk through.”

“It was fine before,” you say. Your nerves are jangling. “Why do I have to take it off now?”

“The prisoner touched it.”

“So you think her quirk works on a locket?” You can’t be combative right now. You can’t make waves – but you’re angry with yourself, angry with Manami, and you don’t want to hide it. “She touched my hand, too. Are you going to make me take that off?”

“Take it off or I’ll detain you,” the officer says. If you’re detained, they’ll search your backpack, and if it comes down to them looking at a baby photo of Tenko or checking out the gun in your backpack, you know which one you prefer. You take off the locket and drop it into the guard’s palm. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

You stand there, seething, as he pries open the locket and studies the photo inside. It occurs to you that the guards were watching you and Manami, that they saw her reaction when she opened it. Of course they’d want to take a look. But the guard never met Tenko, doesn’t know what to look for, and after a moment, he hands the locket back. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” you admit. You look down, bite your lip, the picture of quirkless contrition. “Sorry. It just means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” the guard says magnanimously. They’re all magnanimous once somebody gives in. “Go on.”

You walk through the metal detector again, retrieve your backpack and your phone, and step out of the jail. It’s a sunny day, but it’s cold, and you wish you’d brought a heavier coat. Or a scarf. It’s not hard to imagine that the bite mark is beaming like a searchlight from your neck, letting everybody know just how bad your boyfriend is at keeping quiet. You alter your priorities. You’ll get a scarf first. The firing range will still be there after you’ve covered up.

This far into the fight against Gigantomachia, and your errands during each fight cycle have taken on a new pattern. Food and sleep first – as guilty as you feel for eating hot food and sleeping in a bed when Tenko can’t, you’d feel guiltier if you made a mistake because you were too hungry and sleep-deprived to keep a clear head. Once you’ve gotten that out of the way, you do a few things to maintain the ruse that you’re on a leave of absence from work, then check up on the others.

Usually that means corralling Toga, or finding Compress before he can fence whatever he’s stolen. He’s recognizable enough that it’s safer for you to fence it yourself. You worry less about Spinner. Spinner tends to stick close. If he’s not shadowing Tomura or passed out and snoring, he’s usually following you. Once you’ve checked up on them, made sure they’re eating and sleeping in addition to whatever else, you run an errand of your own. You’ve got a gun now. You need to make sure you can use it.

You go to at least one firing range every fight cycle, sometimes more. You’ve learned how to tense yourself against the recoil from a shot, how to load and reload quickly, how to clean the gun, disassemble it, and fix any problems with it before they get work. The main thing, the most important thing, is shot selection and accuracy. Your accuracy is decent – not quite as decent as it is in Call of Duty, but above average. It got a lot better once you stopped trying to aim for the head.

You don’t need to aim for the head. You don’t want to kill somebody. What you need to do is slow them down long enough for you or your friends to get away, and that means hitting somewhere in the center mass. The fact that gunshots to the center mass can kill somebody just as easily as shots to the head is something you try not to think about. You’ve got a lot of practice not thinking about stuff by now. Enough that you can almost forget about the casualties that will result from tearing everything down, and forget basically everything Manami said except her stories about her villain boyfriend and your twin promises to visit her again and find out where he is.

You text Kazuo to ask if he knows where Gentle Criminal is being held, telling him specifically not to use his quirk to find out, and put your phone away. Then you step into your booth at the firing range.

You’re good enough at it now – barely – that you can practice firing one-handed, firing from positions other than square-on in front of your target. You’re also practicing using the gun for something other than shooting people. One of the guys at the firing range in Nagoya, an ex-cop who took a shine to you in a way that made you deeply uncomfortable, told you that a gun’s not helpful at a distance of less than twenty feet. Somebody with a knife can close that distance faster than you can fire. Dodging a knife strike and clocking somebody in the side of the head is a better bet, so today you’re practicing that, too. You’re as useless with a latent quirk as you were without one, so finding another way to be useful in a fight is your top priority. A stupid latent quirk is the same thing as no quirk at all.

But even as you practice firing one-handed, firing from a crouched position, firing from the floor, you can’t shake off what Manami said. Her hand covering your mouth, her order to save it for when it counts. Save what? The I love you? Sure – you should probably tell Tenko before you tell anybody else, as soon as you figure out how to get the words out of your mouth. What was weird was how intense Manami was about it, but Manami’s always been intense about love. Intense enough to cover your mouth about it? Maybe. Maybe she just wanted you to shut up about how much you love Shigaraki Tomura, aspiring of the supervillains, while you’re in the visiting room at a jail. She’s been at this longer than you have. She’s better at it.

She’s the second person to point out that Tenko’s hurt you, and she and Mitsuko had the same reaction. You’d be worried about it if you didn’t know the whole story, but you can’t explain that your boyfriend bit you because he’s loud in bed or that he hates letting even you see him cry. You also can’t explain that you don’t hate the bitemark, that you don’t want people to see it but aren’t mad that it’s there. You definitely can’t explain that you’re trying to build a new world, and you’re terrified of the thought that he won’t be in it with you.

And there’s no possible way to explain that you’ve weighed the world against the idea of losing Tenko again and decided that keeping him was more important. Not without sounding insane and selfish and awful. Not without sounding like a villain.

You stay at the firing range, drilling over and over again until the time you’ve paid for runs out, and then you check your timer. Four hours before the end of the next fight cycle, and the new base camp is two and a half hours away. That’s plenty of time for you to get there before Tenko does.

Or at least that’s what you think. There’s a disruption in the train service, courtesy of some villain, somewhere, and you wait as ten minutes, forty-five minutes, an hour and a half tick by. There’s no way you’re going to make it there by the end of the fight cycle, and you might miss the break entirely. You have to be there. You need to see Tenko and make sure he eats and sleeps, so that the next fight cycle doesn’t end with him being killed. This far in, he’s barely alive. You don’t know how he’s keeping it together. You don’t know how anyone is.

Another twenty minutes slip past with agonizing slowness. You’re getting desperate. If Kurogiri was here, you’d have options, but he was captured months ago, and you don’t know anyone else who has a –

Yes, you do. You dig the earpiece the doctor gave you out of your backpack and activate it, jamming it into your ear. The doctor’s already on the other end of the line, and that strikes you as weird, but you don’t have a chance to think about it any more before he speaks. “I was just about to reach out to you, Saintess. There’s been a development.”

Your blood turns to ice. Tenko can’t be dead. He’d have told you first if Tenko was dead. If Tenko was dead, you’d know. “What is it?”

“Shigaraki Tomura has devised a plan to destroy both of his enemies at once – the Metal Liberation Army, which has challenged him to a battle, and Gigantomachia, whom he has yet to defeat.” The doctor doesn’t explain who the MLA is, but he doesn’t need to. You’re quirkless. You know all about the people who want to make society’s might-makes-right thing explicit instead of poorly concealed. “I’ve just transported he and the others to the outskirts of the battlefield. He gave me explicit instructions to keep you away from the fight.”

“No,” you say at once. “I’m the medic. They need me. I have to be there.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the doctor says. Oh. “I believe you could be very useful indeed. Stand by for transport.”

You hold still. The doctor heaves a dramatic sigh. “That means get out of sight, dear.”

You’re an idiot. You duck into the bathroom at the train station and lean back against the door, blocking anyone from coming in. “I’m out of sight.”

“Excellent,” the doctor says. A moment later, your mouth fills with black sludge.

When you get to the edge of the city that must be the battleground, the fight’s already in full swing. You can tell by the clouds of dust that are rising, the flashes of blue flame appearing and vanishing just as quickly. Tomura must have called for Dabi. Dabi, but not you. Dabi can fight.

“Allow me to provide the lay of the land,” the doctor says. “The Meta Liberation Army has a hundred thousand members in this city alone. Shigaraki’s objective is to hold them off, without drastically reducing their numbers, long enough for Gigantomachia to awaken and pursue him here – where he will theoretically clash with the MLA and incur enough damage to allow Shigaraki to defeat him.”

It’s brilliant. Tomura’s plans these days usually are. But when you check your phone for the time, your heart sinks. “They’ve still got an hour left. That’s too long.”

“That’s where you come in, my dear. The MLA left you out of their calculations entirely due to your perceived quirklessness.” The doctor sounds smug as all hell. “I’ll direct you where you’re needed. With that gun of yours, the amount of ammunition you’re carrying, and the practice you’ve been putting in, you should be quite effective in thinning the MLA’s ranks – assuming, of course, that you’re willing to get your hands dirty.”

You made that decision a while ago. You put on your veil and crown. It’ll complicate your vision, but you couldn’t practice with it on. “I’ll do what needs to be done to keep Tomura safe.”

“Let’s hope he proves worthy of your devotion. Descend into the city. Avoid the main avenues and work your way towards the tower in the center.

It’s a distance down to the city, and the doctor put you on a rocky slope. There’s probably a defined path down, but you don’t want to waste time looking for it, and you roll and slide and tumble your way down to level ground, the doctor tsking in your ear the entire time. You ignore him and choose a deserted side street, working your way towards the chaos in the center of the city. The doctor gives you periodic updates. “Toga has neutralized her opponents, but she was injured – no, no, my dear, your objective is Shigaraki.”

“I’m the medic. If Toga is hurt –”

“Twice is on his way to assist her, and her injuries aren’t immediately life-threatening.” The doctor’s voice takes on a bite of impatience. “You’ll be able to aid her later, assuming Shigaraki’s plan succeeds – which it may not do if you waste time here.”

Helping Toga isn’t wasting time. But there’s a bigger picture here, and you know it. You pick up the pace again, jogging through the streets, until the doctor tells you to stop. “Dabi and Compress are near. Dabi’s opponent could stand to be distracted. Avoid being seen.”

So you can’t help Toga, but you can help Dabi? The doctor’s priorities are pissing you off. You creep closer, pivoting down a small alley and climbing into a building, peering out a broken window for a better view. There’s Dabi, and Compress. And there’s his opponent, some guy with white hair in a blue coat, who’s doing his best to crush Dabi and Compress under a hail of ice.

Strategy isn’t your strongest suit, but this one is easy. Dabi is the League’s only ranged combatant – other than you, and you barely count. If Dabi loses this fight and switches to chasing Tomura, it’s over. Ice Guy is moving around a lot. You take out your gun, make sure it’s loaded, make sure there’s a round in the chamber. You can’t stay here long. You have to get out fast, so you give yourself three shots to get the job done. You peer up over the window frame, steady yourself, flip off the safety, and hook your finger around the trigger. Ice Guy is holding still for once, bantering about something with Dabi. Perfect.

You fire all three shots in a tight burst, but you aren’t solid at this distance, or this angle. You miss with all three, and you cringe in embarrassment. Ice Guy falters for a second, looking around wildly for the source of the gunfire. You drop to the floor and belly-crawl out of sight, gritting your teeth at the amused note in the doctor’s voice. “Obviously it would have been better if you’d hit him, but he’s unsettled enough to hand Dabi a momentary advantage. All Dabi must do is make use of it.”

You make your way into the building’s back lot, then through a gate onto a quieter street. This one is lined with piles of dust. Big piles of dust, and two sets of footprints through them. “Tomura was here. And Spinner?”

“Yes, although Spinner’s unable to compensate for Shigaraki’s near-incapacitation.” The doctor gives you a new direction to run in and keeps talking. “I admire your efforts to keep him healthy, but they’re ultimately futile. The exhaustion will kill him sooner rather than later.”

“Later,” you correct. He can die of exhaustion when you’re both ninety. “Where are they?”

“Continue straight, then turn left at the next major intersection.” There’s an edge in the doctor’s voice now. “If I were you, I’d hurry.”

You pick up the pace, furious with yourself for not being able to move faster. Training with a weapon clearly wasn’t enough – on your days off, you should have been improving your physical fitness, enough that scrambling from house to house as cover on a street parallel to the one Tomura and Spinner are traveling on would be nothing to you. You turn left at the next intersection and you’re bolting down the street when the doctor orders you to hide, his voice loud and sharp. You dive into the shelter of the nearest fenced yard just in time to see a horde of figures dressed in black and white stampede down the street Tomura and Spinner are apparently on. It looks like Twice. Twice, but hundreds of him.

You thought his quirk would only let him make two copies, and he never copies himself. What happened? “It appears his quirk has awakened,” the doctor says, and you realize you’ve spoken aloud. “If only the same thing would happen to you.”

“If I could do that, I’d know.” You poke your head up over the fence to see if it’s clear, and one of the Twice clones spots you. Shit. You duck down out of sight, but you know he’s coming. “What should I do?”

You hate yourself for asking, and the doctor doesn’t answer. At least not in a way that’s helpful. “Your objective is to aid Shigaraki. Proceed with that in mind.”

Before you can even begin to parse that, the Twice clone reaches over the fence and grabs your arm, pulling you upright. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here! Shigaraki said to keep you away!”

“I’m supposed to be here. I’m the medic.” You struggle to pull your arm free, but he’s stronger than you. “Let go. I have to help him –”

“We’re helping him.” The clone’s chest puffs with pride. “Don’t worry, sister. Your boyfriend’s in good hands!”

You need to get away from Twice. You need to get away from him right now. What’s the chance that this is the real Twice? Next to none – you can’t imagine the real Twice leaving Toga’s side if she’s hurt. With that in mind, what you’re about to do should have no consequences whatsoever. “I’m sorry,” you say to the clone, and you strike him so hard in the side of the head with the barrel of your gun that he collapses instantly into sludge.

“Wonderful. It seems you weren’t lying – your devotion to Shigaraki does extend to getting your hands dirty.” The doctor sounds pleased. You don’t feel like anything at all. “Continue your pursuit course. Shigaraki has pulled ahead of Spinner, but you shouldn’t have trouble catching him.”

You decide against using the main streets, opting instead to hop fences and cut through backyards and alleyways. You don’t want to have to kill any more Twice clones. You don’t have the greatest view, but you’re sure the doctor will tell you if you need to speed up. Tomura might be in the midst of a battle, high on adrenaline, but you’ve eaten and slept in the last three days, so you must have the advantage in speed. You’ll catch him soon. You have to.

You hear the screech of tires, followed by the sound of hundreds of feet on the road – and then a voice, booming out through a megaphone. The voice that responds is quiet and thin in comparison, but you recognize it. It’s Spinner’s voice. Is Tomura with him? No, the doctor would have told you to change course, and he’s said nothing of the kind. Out of everyone in the League, Spinner’s the most loyal to Tomura, second only to you. He wouldn’t leave Tomura for anything. You break the back window of one of the houses, climb in, and pick your way through until you’re peering through the front window. There are too many people in the way. You head for the stairs.

Once you’ve got the elevation, it’s obvious – Spinner’s trapped in the middle of an angry mob. There’s a news van blocking his way, and a guy standing on top of it. He’s calling Spinner by what must be Spinner’s real name and saying the kind of things that make you see red. Spinner shouts back, owning it – owning weakness, owning a lack of vision, owning unimportance except as a follower to better people. That’s not all he is. You don’t let anybody talk to your friends like that, your friends included.

You need to do something. “No,” the doctor hisses in your ear. “Pursue Shigaraki. Leave him.”

“No,” you say. The doctor makes a scathing, offended sound into the phone. “That’s not who I am.”

You don’t have enough bullets in your gun or your backpack to take out the entire crowd, but you can handle the guy in charge, and the resulting chaos might be enough of a distraction that you can yank Spinner out unnoticed. Forget this only-three-shots nonsense – you extract another clip from your backpack and set it down beside you, at the ready once you empty this one. You break the window you’ve been peering through, trusting that the mob’s own noise will cover the sound, and screw the silencer onto the end of your gun. You haven’t practiced with it much, or at all, so you don’t know how it’ll disrupt your shot, but between the gun and the clip you have nine shots to get the job done. At least one of them will have to hit.

The man on top of the van has just donned a mask. Probably a support item rather than a shield, but you were never aiming for his head. Your first shot strikes him in the shoulder. He staggers, turning halfway just in time for you to empty the clip, sending two bullets tearing laterally through his torso. You eject the empty clip and load the next, and in the time that takes, your target collapses. His blood is pooling on top of the van, running down the sides. He’s not moving. Unless somebody in the crowd has a serious healing quirk, he’s dead.

You turn away from the window and race back down the stairs, keeping the gun hidden at your side. Most of the mob’s forgotten Spinner in their efforts to help the leader, and Spinner’s crawled through them, heading towards you. He must have guessed who was shooting. He’s the only one in the League who knows about the gun.

You race out of the house to help him up, drag him out of sight. One person notices the two of you, and you shoot them without thinking twice. Not fatally. It won’t be fatal if they get some help soon.

Spinner needs help right now. He’s bleeding, and while you can see the puncture wounds in his shirt, you can’t tell how deep they are. “You’re wasting time,” the doctor hisses in your ear.

You ignore him, but Spinner unknowingly echoes him a moment later. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, grimacing in pain. “Get to Shigaraki. He needs you.”

“I’ll patch you up and we can both go.”

“No, you need to –”

There’s a colossal explosion from somewhere in the distance. At least, you think it’s an explosion. You don’t know what else to call it, except that it’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard, and it makes the ground rattle beneath your feet. You and Spinner both freeze. “What was that?”

“Change of plans, my dear. Get as far from here as possible.” The doctor’s voice is in your ear again – and in Spinner’s, based on the way Spinner startled. “Shigaraki has engaged the leader of the Liberation Army, and his chances won’t be improved if he’s distracted by your presence.”

“What if I just shoot him?” you ask. Spinner stares at you. “The leader of the Liberation Army. Could I get a clear shot?”

“He’s the size of a house,” the doctor says, and your stomach clenches tight with fear. “You could hit him from the moon if your weapon had the range. But you don’t, and he’ll see you coming, so –”

“He wouldn’t care about me. You said it yourself. I’m quirkless, so I don’t factor in.” You help Spinner straighten up. “I’m Tomura’s sidekick. I can’t let him fight alone.”

“You can if doing it will get you flattened.” Spinner stumbles as the ground shakes again. “Give me the gun. I can do it.”

“You won’t be able to get clear in time.” Get clear in time for what? At the kind of range you’ll need to be effective with a gun this small, you won’t be able to get clear, either. The ground rattles again. “I have to do this.”

“Yes, I believe you must.” The doctor’s voice is crisp and abrupt, almost as abrupt as his change of tune. “I’m quite impressed with Shigaraki’s fortitude. I’ll be sending another gift to assist him in this fight, in addition to you. Spinner, make for the outskirts. I’ll direct you to Toga and Twice. Saintess, head for the center. Stay out of sight as long as you can.”

There’s no time for you to patch Spinner up. The two of you trade a glance and a nod, and then you split up. Spinner books it in the opposite direction of the disaster that’s unfolding at the center of the city, and you run towards it.

What you see there in the midst of the destruction horrifies you. You’ve only caught glimpses of Tomura’s battles with Gigantomachia, but you’ve heard stories from the others, and in spite of the fact that the giant he’s fighting this time is smaller, you can tell from a single glance that his odds are worse. He was tired going into this fight, and he’s already injured beyond what you or anyone else could fix. And unlike Gigantomachia, this giant can talk.

He wants to know what Tomura’s going to do with the world, if he survives. “Is the pursuit of destruction your only worth as a human? The world you wish to create will be as empty as you are.”

“It’s not my world.” Tomura’s face is smeared with blood. One of his legs is twisted at a terrible angle, broken so badly you can’t believe it’s bearing his weight. His left hand is mangled, missing two fingers at least. He can’t fight like this. How could he? “It’s for them. They can choose what’s in it.”

It’s for him, too. If he gives you the chance to build a new world, you’re going to make it worth living in. “They can choose?” The giant scoffs. “Your pack of outcasts and delinquents don’t have that kind of vision. None of you can see beyond your own petty desires and think of the greater good!”

“I don’t need to see it.” Tomura stumbles sideways to avoid a strike, then loses his footing and falls. “She can.”

He’s talking about you. You get set, raise the gun, and fire.

The giant is too bulky for your bullets to make much of an impact. You’d have to hit him in the eyes or the mouth, and you’d have to get closer for that. He reacts to the shot like you’d react to a mosquito bite, mere annoyance and temporary distraction, and Tomura struggles back to his feet long enough to exploit the opening. For a split second you’re drawn back to the games the two of you played as children – facing some terrible villain, distracting them so Tenko could land a decisive blow. The same game as always. Now it’s real.

Even with the giant distracted, Tomura’s injuries are slowing him down. It’s not just that he’s limping. You come closer, unable to stop yourself, and you see how badly he’s favoring his other side. He’s only got one hand, his quirk at half the strength it used to be, and even as your empty the remainder of your clip into the giant’s torso, load another, and fire again, you know you can’t do enough to make this fight one Tomura can win. If you’ve really got a quirk, if there’s something you can do, now’s the time.

But there’s nothing. Why would there be anything? If you had anything more you could do, you’d do it. if running into the middle of things and getting killed to save him would mean he’d win, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

You wouldn’t hesitate, but you won’t get the chance to choose. The giant’s spotted you. He swats Tomura aside with one hand and turns his attention to you. “So you came to join us after all,” he says. You hold your ground. If he comes close enough, you’ll have a clear shot at his eyes. “It’s a shame to say so, Saintess, but there’s no place for your kind in our future. I’ll put you out of your misery.”

You shoot him. It glances off his cheek, and his footsteps rattle the ground, jarring your next shot into thin air. “You’re only resisting the inevitable,” he continues. “Is this truly a world you want to live in? A world where meta abilities are used freely, where your kind are left to occupy the lowest rung of society while the rest of us wait for evolution to wipe you out?”

You’ve heard people with quirks say some truly out-of-touch things, but that might be the worst. You open your mouth for a retort, but instead of a snappy comeback or heartfelt appeal to humanity, laughter pours out. You can’t make it stop, and the giant stares at you, puzzled. Behind him, you see Tomura rising from the dirt, all his weight on his knees and his mangled hand. It only takes a split second’s thought to understand why he’s putting pressure on his injured hand instead of the good one, but it’ll all be for nothing if you can’t give him time. You need the giant to keep looking at you.

He hasn’t looked away. Your semi-hysterical cackling is keeping all his attention. “Is something funny?”

“This world you want,” you start. You have to pause to suck down air, aware that he’s coming closer to you, aware that you can’t let him look back at Tomura. “It’s the same world we have right now. I’ve lived in your perfect world my whole life.”

Tomura steadies himself. You see him steady his right arm with what remains of his left hand before the giant’s bulk fills your vision. You look up at him, holding his gaze even as he raises his hand to crush you to a bloody paste on the ground, and you smile, even though your veil hides your face. “It’s our world now.”

The giant’s fist comes down towards you. You hear a distant scream. A split second later, the ground falls out from beneath you.

You can’t decide if you’re dead or not. You’re falling through a haze of dust and ash, listening to screams that fall abruptly silent, flinching as buildings crack and crumble around you. Above it all there’s a sound you’ve never heard before – half howl of rage, half insane laughter, all rough and painful, as though it’s tearing apart the throat it’s issuing from. Tenko’s still alive. You can’t die yet. You have to get to him.

Maybe your quirk is some kind of willpower, because even though the impact with the ground is agonizing, you’re on your feet within seconds of the hit. You find yourself standing on the edge of a massive crater, one that’s swallowed half the city. You’re not the only one at its edge. You see Spinner, Dabi, Compress, Twice – about a billion clones of Twice, holding as many clones of Toga, and Giran off to one side with a clumsy bandage wrapped around his hand. The League of Villains made it through.

A few members of the Meta Liberation Army made it through, too. They’re staring down into the crater, sheer horror on their faces, as they look at what’s left of their leader.

He amputated his legs to avoid getting caught in the wave of Decay Tomura unleashed, and the part of you that’s a nurse and not a murderer notes that those wounds will need to be cauterized soon if he wants to avoid bleeding out. But the leader of the Meta Liberation army is a footnote, an afterthought. Tomura’s down there, too. Tomura’s on his feet. His hair’s gone pure white, and his right arm’s been torn to shreds.

He and the Liberation Army’s leader are talking. You can’t hear what they’re saying, at least not at first. Not until the leader announces his unconditional surrender and orders his soldiers to lay down their arms – or rather, to turn them over to Shigaraki Tomura, the new leader of the Meta Liberation Army. Tomura’s won, and it’s not just the MLA who’s submitted to him. When you glance at the far side of the crater, you see Gigantomachia crouched there, calm and awaiting orders. It’s a mark of just how focused you are on Tomura that you didn’t even notice.

The enemy leader’s still talking, but Tomura’s not paying attention. He’s looking up, around the edges of the crater, his eyes lingering on each member of the League. Twice and Giran to Twice and Toga, Dabi to Compress to Spinner, and finally to you. You hold his gaze, unsure of whether to take down your veil and smile, not certain if he needs reassurance that you’re okay or if he’s just making sure you’re alive. Then his face goes pale beneath the mask of blood. You see his eyes roll up in his head, and before you can make a move to help him, he pitches sideways, unconscious.

The enemy leader is the one who catches him, and something snaps in your head. You hop the edge of the crater and skid down the slope, racing towards them. You’re not the only one on the move – Spinner and about fifty Twice clones are doing the same thing, and the enemy leader is shouting for help. Somebody with a healing quirk, maybe. Or transport to a hospital. You can’t think. All you can think about is getting Tomura away from the person who was trying to kill him five minutes ago. A person whose soldiers will kill you all without him to lead them.

You pry Tomura out of his grip, slide your backpack off your shoulders, and start giving orders. “Twice, take the sterile pads and start packing them onto his legs.”

“Whose?”

You gesture one-handed at the giant, who’s not so giant anymore. “Re-Destro,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, him.” Once the Twice clones are in motion, you unwrap the scarf you bought earlier today and shove it into Spinner’s hands. “Use that as a tourniquet for one of his legs. Find something else for the other one.”

Spinner doesn’t question it. You wonder if he’s made the same calculation as you have, figured out that your survival is tied to Re-Destro’s for right now, but now that you’ve got people helping him, you can focus on Tomura. And Tomura is – is –

The rise and fall of his ribcage is lopsided. He’s got a punctured lung. His shirt’s been torn away, and most of his torso is turning a strange mottled color, one you remember all too well from the victims at Kamino. Internal bleeding. His left hand’s down to three fingers. His right arm’s all but flayed. His leg’s broken so badly that you can see pieces of his femur protruding through his skin. The only thing that’s still working properly seems to be his heart. He still has a pulse, but he needs more help than you can give him. You can’t tourniquet internal bleeding. You can’t stitch wounds inside his body. As much as you want to save him, this is out of your skill set by a hundred kilometers.

You hear a helicopter approaching, and when you look up, you see a cross painted on its side. Medevac, but they’re here for Re-Destro, not for Tomura. When he sees the medics approaching, Re-Destro shakes his head. “Take him. I can wait.”

You’re terrified that they won’t listen, but Re-Destro’s minions are loyal. They come to Tomura’s side instead, load him onto a stretcher, and rush him to the helicopter with you chasing after them. One medic turns to tell you to back off and you shout in her face. “I’m a nurse! I can help!”

You’re not sure if she believes you, or if she just believes that you’ll throw yourself in anyway and spend the entire flight clinging to the landing gear if she says no. Whatever her reasons are, she steps aside, and you scramble onto the helicopter alongside Tomura’s stretcher.

You’ve never been inside any helicopter before, and you have a feeling that most of them aren’t this nice. They have actual gear, actual scanners, and while you get pressed into service trying to secure Tomura’s broken leg, then promptly kicked out to deal with his right arm, the medic who let you in runs a scanner over his torso. The image pops up on a screen attached to the cockpit divider, and when you glance up at it, your heart plummets a thousand meters, all the way back to earth.

Internal bleeding, just like you thought. Massive internal injuries, the kind a person can’t come back from, and the medic who ran the scan shakes her head. “Even if we had the blood to transfuse him, we can’t waste resources. This is ATC, and with those injuries – he’s not going to make it to the hospital.”

“No.” Your voice comes out watery and weak. “There’s something you can do. There has to be. I know –”

“You’re a nurse. You should know.” The medic gives you a look. “He’s got minutes. Say your goodbyes.”

It feels unreal. It can’t be real. This can’t be happening. Not like this, not after everything the two of you have been through, not after he’s won. How could you have let this happen to him? You look back up at the scan, hoping desperately that something’s changed and finding nothing. The medic is right. You’re a nurse, and you should know – a patient with injuries this severe isn’t someone who can be saved. No matter how many surgeons could work on them, no matter how many units of blood they might be transfused, there’s no way to hammer life back into a body this damaged. It’s cruel to try.

You lift his right hand, careful to avoid making contact with all his fingers at once. You can’t kiss it, but you bow your head over it all the same, fighting back tears. You can’t face the thought of never hearing his voice again, never linking little fingers with him again, never kissing him or making him laugh or playing another game. You swore you’d follow him through the end of the old world and into the new one. You can’t lose him again. If you could take his place, you would.

“Tenko,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you, even though everything that matters is already beyond your reach. Maybe that’s why it’s easy to say, why the words are lighter than air on your tongue. “Tenko, I love you.”

You curl over his hand, eyes shut, head bowed. You can’t watch the light leave his face. Feeling his hand go limp and cold will be horrible enough. You stay still and wait as seconds tick past. Seconds, then minutes. The medic said he had minutes. How many minutes did she mean? A spark of hope catches in your chest and you smother it without mercy. He’s gone. You can’t have him back this time. He’s gone.

You hear the medic’s voice, but nothing she says makes sense. “Scan him again.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

You stay where you are until someone nudges you aside, but you don’t open your eyes, and you don’t let go of Tenko’s hand. The scanner hums as it runs over his limp, nearly lifeless body, then emits an excruciatingly loud beep. Even with your eyes shut, you see the flash of the screen coming to life. The medic’s voice is hesitant, stunned. “Holy hell.”

“That’s not possible,” the other medic says. “It isn’t! Not without –”

Both of them stop talking. If they’re not going to explain, you should look up and see for yourself. You open your eyes, and sit up, and that’s when you see the second scan, side-by-side with the first. And they’re – different. The first scan is apocalyptic, unsurvivable. Even someone with no medical training could tell. The second scan is bad, too, but it’s better. Better enough to change his status from black-tagged to red-tagged in the medics’ opinion, because they get back to work, working around you rather than telling you to move.

It’s weird, because you’re definitely in the way. You’d ask you to move, if you were them. Do they need you to help? You ask, and the other medic lets out a cracked, uncomfortable laugh. “You’re more useful where you are.”

“What?” you say blankly. “I don’t understand.”

“I do,” the doctor says in your ear. You’d forgotten he was there. “Tell me what you see.”

You describe the first scan, then the second. “Hm. It sounds to me as if Shigaraki’s body is repairing itself,” the doctor says. “Small repairs, obviously – he still requires major surgery and quite a bit of luck – but even such repairs take hours, days, or even weeks to occur naturally. And here they’ve occurred within the space of a few minutes. My dear Saintess – it seems you have a quirk after all.”

The doctor keeps talking, about how he and All For One are never wrong, how you were so silly to doubt him, how he knew your quirk would awaken if the right circumstances were met, and you ignore him. It’s easy to do, just like it’s easy to ignore the medics as they pivot around you, easy to ignore the pilots’ discussion of which MLA-controlled hospital to make for, easy to ignore the fresh scan that pops up on the screen, revealing even more improvement – impossibly slight, but enough. You focus on holding Tenko’s hand, keeping it safe between yours for the landing on the hospital’s roof, the race down to the operating theater, the hours and hours of surgery that leave you dead-on-your-feet tired, interrupted only by orders to move this way or that.

You’re still holding his hand as they wheel him out of surgery, into the recovery unit off the ICU. Still not thinking. Still ignoring everything but his hand, warm and wrapped in bandages, a pulse still beating in his wrist. He stirs slightly in his sleep, eyelids fluttering half-open with no awareness behind them, and you wonder if he’s in pain, if you can call someone to medicate him so he’ll get a good night’s sleep for the first time in months. Your hands are stiff and frozen around his, locked into position for hours on end, and you force yourself to let go. You might need your hands to help him. You’re still a medic, still a nurse. He might need more from you than this.

You leave your little finger linked with his, though. It’s tradition by now, and tradition, too, to tighten your grip just a little bit, letting him know you’re here. “I love you,” you say, in case he’s listening. It still feels easy to say.

Tenko doesn’t stir, doesn’t open his eyes. But his breathing is even, his heartbeat steady, and his finger hooks a little tighter around yours. He’s all the way under. It’s just a reflex, but you’ll take it as proof: In spite of everything, he’s here, too.

[boldlyvoid]

Yours, mine & ours | Part 1: meeting matthew

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington | Single Dads fic

Summary: Eddie has a 6-year-old brother in need of a new legal guardian

Warnings: set in 1993, Eddie was never a part of the upside-down shenanigans, foster care, child neglect, death of a parent, Al Munson is a monster, Wayne Munson is the loveliest man on earth

Word count: 4.7k

Masterlist

When he got the call from Child Protective Services, his first thought was: “Do they have the right Eddie Munson?” His second thought was: “of course, my dad would have another one of his offspring taken away.” 

“So, will you take him? Or should we set him up with one of our emergency families until we can find a permanent foster placement for him?” The woman asked, as kindhearted as possible. 

“Uh… yeah? Do you have to like vet me or check out my place?” He asks, worried he won’t have enough time to make his trailer look presentable. He’s only had it a few months now, just a few spaces down from his uncle Wayne, but that didn’t stop the ‘Eddie tornado’ from wreaking havoc on the space in such a short time frame. 

“A small one. I’ll bring Matthew with his things and I’ll take a look around, make sure it’s up to code,” she explains. “I know you were also taken in by a family member when you were a kid, so I’m sure you know what it’s like. He’s had a very rough day and I would like to have him settled with someone he can trust tonight.” 

“Yeah, yeah I remember… How old is he?” He asks, unsure if she’s said it already or not. His mind was in a bit of a fog, this was all a little surreal. He was 27, how the heck did his dad have another kid? What did he get out of jail? What did he do this time? His mind is absolutely racing. 

“6,” she says and he can tell she’s frowning about it. “I don’t think he’s ever been to school…”

“I missed a lot when I was with Al, too,” he shares. “I’ll get him enrolled. 6 is what? Kindergarten?” 

“It is, he should be able to catch up quite easily, he’s a very sweet and quiet boy. I think he’ll greatly benefit from being around children his own age.” 

He knows that’s true. “Okay, well, I’ll clean up a bit and get things ready here… when are you bringing him?” 

“We’re just in Indianapolis, so I’ll be there in an hour-ish?” She says, more so asking if that works for him. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Thank you, Eddie.” 

“Anytime.” 

He hangs up the phone on the receiver and looks around the room. He’s fucked. There’s no way he can clean everything and make it look presentable in an hour. 

But he’s damn sure going to try. 

He throws all his clothes in the washing machine, he rushes through dishes, and he runs the recycling and a few garbage bags down to the trailer park's dumpster. He tidies his room, and sets up a few spare blankets on the couch so that the kid knows he has a spot to sleep tonight before they get him set up with more… and just as he’s changing his shirt to something less heavy metal, there’s a knock on his door. 

“Coming!!” He shouts as he slips into the shirt and makes his way down the hallway. He’s barely got his arms in the sleeves as he’s opening the door. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s still a shock to see a woman no older than himself holding a garbage bag in one hand and holding hands with a little boy in the other. She’s in a dress suit, hair all pulled back and a small smile on her face, “Eddie Munson?” 

“Hi,” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks down at his brother then, “You must be Matthew?” 

He has the curliest hair, curlier than Eddie’s ever was at this age. He has chubby cheeks, big brown eyes and the longest lashes on earth that batt against those big cheeks each time he blinks. He’s adorable. How the hell could someone have a child so sweet and put them in this position? Was he this cute when he was little? Was this how Wayne felt when he was on his doorstep at 12? Or was he long past that cute phase and more into the annoying tween people felt bad for, stage? 

Matthew nods, reaching up to brush his curls out of his face, he looks so tired. His eyes are red, he doesn’t smile, he’s in tattered old running shoes and pants too short for his legs and a sweater Eddie’s seen before… that used to be his. He left it when he was gathering things to leave for Waynes. It was too small for him then, but now it’s a bit too big for Matthew. 

“Come in,” he steps aside and lets them in. “I uh, I cleaned as best as I could with short notice. I’ll do more tomorrow once I can borrow the vacuum from my uncle down the way, he’s at work right now. He works nights.” 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, letting Matthew in first.

He takes a look around, arms crossed to protect himself. He doesn’t make eye contact, he simply wanders over to the living room to take a look at the figurines Eddie has on the shelves. Wayne would call them toys, they could be if they weren’t so expensive, but with their price tag, they are made to stay in their little acrylic cases and sit on his shelves collecting dust till he has the time to clean again. 

“You like Star Wars?” He asks, trying to make conversation but Matthew just shrugs. “I’ll have to show you the movies sometime.” 

“Okay,” he says, quiet and meek. 

He doesn’t notice the social worker looking around. She opens the fridge, nods a bit and then closes it. She looks in the cupboards and drawers, and she notices that there are clothes in the washing machine tumbling around in soapy circles and she looks impressed. She keeps going down the hall, peaking in the bedroom, “Is it just you who lives here?” 

“Uh, yeah, I just got the trailer a couple months ago… I was renting downtown for a bit but then I got the opportunity to own this place,” he explains. “I’m thinking I’m going to get a pull-out couch for me and he’ll have the room. That’s what my uncle did for me.” 

“Sounds good,” she gives him a smile. “He seems like he’s good here.” She references over to Matthew who’s flipping through pages of a comic book, sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “Here,” she reaches into her pocket and hands Eddie a white envelope. 

“What is this?” 

“You’re not technically a foster parent, but because you’re under the poverty line and taking him in, I pulled some strings and you’ll be receiving a $500 allowance for him each month,” she explains. “It should help with groceries and clothes, and I can help you file for medical and dental benefits through some charities that focus on children going through tough situations.” 

“Damn, okay,” he’s so shocked. Where was all this when he was a kid? “Wow…” 

“And then in the bag, there is a manilla envelope with his birth certificate and other important documents. We couldn’t find any records of him getting his vaccines, so he should see a practitioner before going to school.” 

“Okay,” he nods along, feeling overwhelmed. “I uh, I don’t even have a doctor… does he need a kid doctor or will any do?” 

“A pediatrician would be best,” she explains. “In Indianapolis, we have a local pediatrician who does pro-bono work for children in the system. I included their number in the envelope, my cards in there, too, tell them I referred you.” 

“Thank you. This is more than anyone did for me when they dropped me off with Wayne,” he says, trying not to tear up a bit. “I’m going to take good care of him.” 

“I know you will,” she gives him a real smile, she touches his arm and then makes her way to the door. “You call if you need anything, but I think we’re all good here. Bye, Matthew!” 

He looks up from his book and gives her a wave, “Bye.” 

And then she’s gone. 

It’s just them now.

He has a kid.

A kid that will live with him and depend on him for… 18-6 is 12 but he’s 27 and still dependent on Wayne to an extent, so that’s 21 years. He’s going to have this kid forever. 

Eddie just watches him read for a moment, carefully keeping his distance. “Are you hungry?” 

He nods, “kinda.” 

“Do you have any favourite foods?” 

He shrugs, “Pringles.” 

Eddie sighs, of course. He remembers being fed Pringles and candied nuts and beef jerky from the gas station for years. He never had a real meal between his mom's death and moving in with Wayne.

“Have you ever had Mac and cheese?” 

Matthew shakes his head, looking confused. 

“Well, then I guess I’m going to have to introduce you to my favourite meal.” 

He fills a pot up with water and sets it on a burner, throws in a bit of salt and turns it on high. He pulls a box down from the cupboard and walks it over to Matthew, “See, this is Mac and cheese, it’s these little elbow-shaped noodles and a cheese powder that you mix with milk and butter and it becomes so delicious, you’re going to love it. You can try it by itself, or you can have ketchup on it like I do.” 

“I like ketchup,” he gives Eddie a little smile. “The lady at the drink place gives me ketchup with my fries.” 

He knows he means the bar. His dad brought him there for dinner a lot too because most nights a plate of fries was free when you ordered 3 or more beers. Sometimes, he’d get a burger or even some chicken tenders if the bartender thought he was cute… that stopped after he turned 8. By then he was a lanky, dirty kid no one wanted to deal with.

“So, Matt, how are you feeling?” 

“Hew,” he says, looking displeased. 

“What?” 

“My name is Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that. My name is Edward but people call me Eddie. It’s called a nickname,” he explains. “I know our father wasn’t big on nicknames, which is weird considering his preferred name is a nickname… but you don’t have to only go by Matthew. People can call you Matt, or Matty.” 

“Oh,” he settles with that. “So my dad is your dad?” 

He nods, “yeah… I mean he’s our father. There’s a big difference between a father and a dad.” Matt looks confused so Eddie starts to ramble. “You see, any man can father a kid, but not every man can be a dad. A dad is someone who takes care of you. Someone who reads you bedtime stories and tucks you in at night and kisses your forehead to see if you have a fever… a dad is someone who loves you and is always there for you. When I left our father, I moved in with his brother, Wayne. He did those things for me. He made me feel safe and cared for. Wayne is my dad.” 

“Oh,” he softens, looking behind Eddie, sad. “My mom did those things.” 

“My mom did too,” he understands. “Where is your mom?” 

“She’s an angel,” Matthew sighs, missing her. 

“So is my mom,” Eddie presses his lips together, awkwardly, trying not to smile but wanting him to feel comfortable. “But that’s okay, we’ve got each other now. I’m going to make sure we get you into school, and maybe tomorrow we can go shopping?” 

He nods excitedly, sitting up straight, “For what?” 

“Well, let’s see what you need,” Eddie says, looking for the bag of his things. He puts the box of Mac and cheese on the counter, the pot still isn’t boiling, it takes forever in here. He grabs the garbage bag and unties it, turning it over and dropping everything onto the carpeted floor. 

It smells so much like cigarettes that it honestly takes his breath away. “oh wow,” he tries not to gag. He smokes, sure, but not as much as Al, and definitely not in the fucking house. 

The pile of things is small. He starts to sort everything, he folds 2 pairs of jeans, 6 shirts, 3 pyjama bottoms and only 1 matching long sleeve top. He has 4 pairs of underwear that look like they’re for a toddler and no socks. There is 1 stuffed elephant and a picture of his mom in a frame… she looks a lot like his own mom. 

Al Munson has a type. 

“Okay,” he places his hands on his knees and bites his lip. “Well, looks like we need a bit of everything… new shoes, a good coat, some socks, a toothbrush, bathroom things? When was the last time you had a shower?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t remember?” 

“Okay, do you know how to shower alone?” 

He nods, standing up, “I do everything by myself.” 

“I figured… um, so while I make dinner do you want to go have a shower? I’m going to put your clothes in the wash later so you can wear one of my old shirts after?” Eddie offers, grabbing one of the other pairs of underwear out of the pile and standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.” 

He shows him how the shower turns on and off, sets out some towels for him and tells him just how much shampoo he should use. He gets him a new shirt, places it on the counter with his underwear and heads to leave. 

“Thank you, Eddie,” Matthew says, giving him a little smile before he shuts the door, leaving him to do his own thing. 

In the kitchen he can hear the pot boiling, so he pours the macaroni into the bubbling water. He sets the cheese packet to the side and heads right to the washing machine. He switches his clothes over to the dryer and loads Matt's stuff into the washer. He’ll put it on when the shower turns off so he has good water pressure to get the soap out of his hair.

It’s remarkable how easy it is. 

This time yesterday he was eating cold pizza and drinking a beer, thinking he’d never have the kind of life his co-workers did. Today, he has a kid. Today he’s doing laundry and making dinner and he’s going to have to tuck a kid into bed. Tomorrow he’s going to have to take him shopping. He has no idea how he’ll keep doing this every day? If he’ll be good at it? If he’ll have the money, the strength, the energy… 

All he can do is try. That’s what Wayne did, and Wayne did a fantastic job. But Wayne also had help, he had friends with kids whom Eddie got most of his things from, ladies who watched him after school and neighbours who made sure he was up in time for the bus when Wayne worked late. 

He still has 6 minutes till the macaroni is done, so he heads to the phone, dials the number to his coworker and he waits. 

“Hello?” Daryl’s deep voice picks up. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie.” 

“What’s the van doing this time?” He asks, sounding annoyed. 

“Oh, nothing. No. That’s not why I called. I uh… my kid brother is going to be living with me from now on. He’s 6—

“Oh shit,” Daryl can’t believe it. 

“Yeah, you and Laurene wouldn’t happen to have your boy’s old clothes still, would you?” He asks, feeling bad but he has to ask. 

“We’ve got buckets of their shit down in the crawlspace, I’ll ask Laur to go through it later. I don’t think we’ve got shoes, though. Our boys went through shoes like mad— I swear if they weren’t outgrowing them they were blowing the souls out dragging them on the playground,” he goes off. Eddie can just imagine he’s shaking his head as he explains it all. 

“I’ve got an allowance for him from the state, so I can get him new shoes,” Eddie assures. “He has like 4 shirts and no socks. I need to get him a coat and a backpack, and do you guys have a good doctor? He needs to get a doctor.” 

Daryl laughs, “I never thought you’d be coming to me for parenting advice.” 

“Me either, but he’s my brother. I wasn’t going to let him go into the system. I was with 1 family before Wayne, it wasn’t terrible but I’ve heard the horror stories. I can’t let him go through that shit.” 

“You’re a good man,” Daryl compliments him. “I’ll see what we can find tomorrow, I’ll bring it by the trailer. You think he’s a regular-sized 6-year-old?”

He chuckles a bit, “I think? I’m not sure really. He’s so small. I don’t think I was ever that small.” 

“We were all small once,” he smiles through the phone. “How about you come over tomorrow for lunch, he can meet our boys and we’ll figure out sizing that way?” 

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie agrees. “Thanks again, Daryl. I really appreciate it.” 

“Any time kid, you have a good night.” 

“You too.” 

—

Dinner goes well, they talk about his favourite colours and if he likes music. He likes blue and his dad listened to the radio a lot. He hummed some songs he liked, nothing Eddie could really recognize cause it was probably new-age country. They put their plates in the sink, Eddie shows him where the ketchup goes in the fridge and they talk about getting some groceries tomorrow. Fun food. Things for snacks and easy dinners, and Eddie’s gonna have to start packing him lunches when he goes to school. 

He’s going to need a backpack and a lunch bag, a pencil case and pencils and crayons and Eddie’s going to need to help with homework. He doesn’t even know if the kid can read or write yet… 

Matt grabs the comic book again and sits back down on the couch, flipping back to the page he was on before, and looking at all the pictures. 

“Can you read?” Eddie asks, coming to sit beside him. 

He shrugs, “kinda.” 

“Cool,” he’s honestly impressed. “Have you ever had a comic book before?” 

“No… is that what this is?” 

“Yeah, I have a whole bunch. This is Wolverine 27, there’s 26 that come before it. I have most of them, you can read them all if you want?” He offers. “I also have some X-Men comics and a bunch of fantasy books— but they might be too advanced for you, so maybe I could read them to you?” 

He nods, a sweet gleam in his eyes, “Can you read me to sleep later?” 

“Of course, buddy,” he doesn’t even have to think twice. “Maybe I could read you my favourite book?” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s called Lord of The Rings,” he says with a smile. 

Maybe raising a kid could be fun. 

After explaining the plot to him and grabbing the old, well-read, book off the shelf, he looks at Matthew and the couple sheets he has laid out for him, “Would you want to sleep in my bed or out here on the couch tonight?” 

“I usually sleep in Dad's room,” he explains. “I have a bed in his closet.” 

The fucking closet again. Sure, it gives them both privacy, but a 3x5 room is nothing. It's stuffy and gross and you still hear everything Al gets up to in the middle of the night with his stupid friends. His heart breaks for Matthew. He wished he knew he had a brother sooner, he would’ve gotten Matthew and his mom away from Al as quick as humanly possible. 

Now all he can do is make it up to him. 

“Well, I was thinking you could have my room and I could get a couch that turns into a bed for me to sleep out here,” he explains his thinking. “I'm going to put all my clothes in the closet, I might get a new dresser or something for out here so you can keep all your things in your room.”

“Really? You mean it?” He lights right up. “I always wanted my own room.” 

Eddie smiles right back at him, “Well, now you’ve got one. It might take a little while for me to move my things out here and make it feel more like your space, but you’ll like it.” 

He nods, really happy with the thought of having his own space for the first time in his short little life. So happy, he gives Eddie a hug. 

“Oh,” he’s a bit shocked at first but then he softens, holding him back with a soft smile on his face. Eddie could really get used to this. “I’m glad you’re here, buddy.” 

“Me too,” he whispers against him, snuggling in, clearly tired after a long day. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” 

He nods, “Can I sleep with you?” 

“Uh… yeah, I just have to clean up a bit out here after I read to you but I can come back to your room?” Eddie compromises. He really wants to put his stuff in the washing machine before they go out tomorrow. 

He holds his hand and walks him down the hall to his bedroom, flicks on the light and watches Matt’s eyes light right up, “woah?” 

“You like it?” He smirks, it’s pretty basic. White paint covered in posters and homemade flags with his band's name on them. Homemade artwork from campaigns, photos from gigs and tickets from concerts and festivals he’s been to. 

“It’s so colourful,” he says as he lets go of Eddie’s hand and wanders over to his Iron Maiden poster. “He’s so… wow?” 

“His name is also Eddie… he’s the mascot for Iron Maiden, I’ll show you their music tomorrow in the van,” he promises. “You sure it’s not too scary to sleep in here?” 

He shakes his head, “No, it’s cool!” 

He can’t help but smile, it must run in the family to love this shit. He suddenly can’t wait to show him all the music he has, maybe teach him how to play guitar or hell, he might be into drums or bass and the boys can help him out. Having a little brother is a gift he never expected. This kid is so much like him, it’s going to be so fun. 

He never wanted a kid of his own… really, he just didn’t want to knock up some woman he didn’t love in the name of pretending to be straight. He didn’t want to change diapers and be up all night trying to soothe a crying crotch goblin. He’d do it if he had to, but he never put himself in the position to need to. Now he has Matt, he’s at a fun age, and he’s still mouldable. He can still be made into a good person, he’s not affected too much by their father which is a blessing. He was only with him half as long as Eddie was, and he turned out semi-okay? 

He turns the covers down, fluffs a pillow and flicks on the lamp light instead of the big light. “Come sit,” he offers, going to get his book from the shelf. 

Matt crawls into the bed, pulls the covers up over himself and sits there with his hands in his lap, patiently waiting for his story. 

“Has anyone read to you before?” 

He nods, “My mom did. Just little books, though,” he points at the massive book Eddie’s holding. “Not like that.” 

“I know, but the best part about these big books is that we can read this story every night for a while. It took Wayne a whole year to read it to me at bedtime,” he explains, taking a seat in the bed beside him. “So, it starts off kind of different… the narrator gives a rundown of the world first so that when you start reading, you’re not completely lost about what a hobbit is or where they live.” 

“Okay,” he nods along. 

“And the way the characters talk might be a bit strange, and the words are a bit long and some don’t exist in our world. If you need help understanding, don’t be afraid to ask me what something means,” he explains. “It’s hard to understand sometimes, but I’ve read it so many times I know almost everything about it.” 

He nods, leaning into Eddie’s arm and looking at the pages. “Are there pictures?” 

He shakes his head, “No, but I have drawn some of the scenes in my sketchbook, I can show you them later?” 

“Okay,” he settles against him and that’s how Eddie knows it’s time to start. 

“This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history…”

He reads in his most normal voice, he’ll introduce voices for the characters later. he’s actually really excited about that. Wayne used to try and do voices for him, but he never could keep them consistent. Eddie, on the other hand, would do voices in his head when he read the book to himself. 

“They do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a hand-loom, though they were skilful with tools. Even in ancient days they were, as a rule, shy of ‘the Big Folk’, as they call us,—

“Wait, so Hobbits are tiny?” Matthew asks. 

He nods, “Yeah, they’re probably about your size when they’re my age, but they have big hairy feet.” 

Matthew laughs, “I think I’m going to like this book.” 

Eddie smiles, “I think so, too” 

—

Wayne doesn’t work the same night shifts that he used to. He’s too old for that shit. Now, he comes home around 11pm, gets to sleep all night and goes back in at 3pm. He likes it this way. He’s always been more of a night owl, he enjoys sleeping when the sun is up more than anything, it runs in the family. It took Eddie most of his life to get onto a “normal” schedule for his 9-5. 

Wayne knocks on the trailer door lightly just as Eddie’s switching the laundry over. He rushes to the door and holds his finger up to his lips as he opens it, “Hey, let me come out here.” 

Wayne’s a little confused but he backs up and lets Eddie outside. “What’s goin’ on? You got someone over?” 

“Al had another kid after he got out, or during? I’m not sure about the logistics, but he got arrested again and now Matthew’s going to be living with me,” he explains. 

“That old fucker got another woman knocked up?” Wayne can’t believe it. “The courts should castrate ya after CPS takes two kids out of y’r care.” 

Eddie just chuckles, “Yeah, well, at least this one got away at 6.” 

“6?” Wayne repeats, eyes wide, “are you sure y’r up for that?” 

He nods, “he’s pretty calm and quiet. The social worker got us set up with an allowance so I’ll get $500 a month to take care of him and Daryl and his wife are going to hook us up with some hand-me-downs. Tomorrow I’m getting him some new shoes and underwear and a coat. And socks. He didn’t come with any socks?” 

“You didn’t either,” Wayne reminds him. 

He sighs, remembering all too well just how hard it was to be with Al for so long. “Yeah, well, we’re getting him everything he needs now. I need to get him set up at school, he needs a doctor, too… but we’ll be okay.” 

“You said his name is Matthew?” 

He nods, “had to teach him what nicknames are too. He likes Matt so far.” 

“Good, good,” Wayne places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “Wow, never thought I’d be here again.” 

“I told him you’re my dad,” Eddie explains. “Al’s just the man who made us, but dads take care of us.” 

Wayne lets out a huff and presses his lips together, his eyes well a bit, “boy…” 

“I know, I know,” Eddie laughs it off. “You’re not good with emotions, but it’s true. And who knows, he might start calling you grandpa with this logic.” 

“You’re gonna be a good dad to that kid,” Wayne compliments, meaning it with every fibre of his being. 

Eddie just reaches out and hugs him, “Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

General Taglist 

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Steddie

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Single Dads fic

@stevesbipanic 

[rinininamiluv]

I can’t stop thinking about how Ian was frank’s least favorite child meanwhile he was Monica’s favorite child and honestly that’s one of the only qualities about her that I like. Now don’t get me wrong I will never condone parents having favorites among their children but having a favorite child is the least fucked up thing Monica could have and have done to those kids.

And I can’t stop thinking about one little detail in Episode 9 of season 1 that proves this. The scene where Monica and Roberta told them that they want to take Liam with them and get custody for him and Fiona started going on about how unfair and down right wrong that was after Monica abandoned them and after how much blood sweat and tears Fiona put into raising each one of them and now she suddenly wants to come back and take one of them away from them and they one they care for and love the most at that? And then she started calling out the kids names and stating how well they’re doing in school all thanks to her (Fiona) and not Monica.

But the detail I noticed is that as she called each one of their names and their success in school we saw no reaction from Monica until Fiona got to Ian and mentioned that he was promoted into ROTC and tested out of English. You can see that Ian being able to live his dream affected her and how proud she was to hear she literally gasped and her mouth was trembling from the new set of tears and emotions she was feeling. And everytime I see that scene and I notice this it hits me so hard.

Maybe it’s because I love Ian so much and he along with Mickey are my favorite characters makes everything about Ian a big deal for me. And I’ve never really seen anyone mention this little detail before and I feel like it should be and it’s an important piece of evidence of why I think Ian is Monica’s favorite. And it just justifies Ian’s soft spot for his mother and why he found it the hardest to let go of her and move on from her death the hardest (except for frank ofc or idk maybe more than frank) and why he cared for her so much. And ofc we can’t run from the fact that the two of them understand each other more than the others in the family did. They both are part of the lgbtq+ community and they both struggle with the same mental illness (although I still think it was wrong of Monica to make Ian believe he should break up with Mickey because Mickey wouldn’t understand him).

And I really have no one to talk about this to because none of my friends have watched this show so none of them would understand what I’m rambling about right now and this is the best place to ramble about this on.

Also one of my favorite scenes has to be when Monica got Ian out of jail after that mfer Sammy called the cops on him and they went to get something to eat and Ian noticed Monica staring at him and he asks her “what?” And she replies with the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen on her “you’re a so beautiful. You’re and beautiful, beautiful man. I did great making you.” And I couldn’t agree with her more.

But that’s me rambling about what’s been on my mind for hours now :)

[megalomaniacz]

ELECTRIC LADY… 💋📺🚬

pairing: 70s!ellie x reader

synopsis: today is nothing like yesterday.

author’s note: whipped this up kinda quick while watching ash asylum.

part one. > part two. > part three.

⋆˚✿˖°

“and more on the shocking news we covered earlier tonight, the man found dead was 36 year old Benson Standold. not much on the fugitives that killed him, but a witness has disclosed that they saw two young women running away from the scene—“

the radio whirrs as ellie turns the channel.

“got on board a westbound 747…”

“dammit shit fuck!” you scream. she’d pulled the cigarette out of her own mouth and handed it to you, the unkept ashes falling onto the skin of your thigh. you wince, taking a drag. “what have we done?”

“listen, he was gonna hurt you. and you didn’t do anything, i was the one holding the knife.”

you shake your head, holding back a river of tears. “weren’t we just two kid in love yesterday?”

you’d both gone to get breakfast and were on your way back, when ellie noticed a car following in her rear view. she took a couple harsh lefts, sharp rights, and stopped over to the side when it was still there. she’d gotten out to confront him when he threw a string of slurs at her. hollering about his perverse thoughts. hollering about you.

he went to attack her and she fought back. ellie fought to win, nothing less. this was something he’d been forced to learn the hard way. now you were speeding off to god knows where with your things still at the hotel. a small sum of money, gum, and a pack of cigarettes on your person.

“that was yesterday, doll. if you ain’t noticed already, things have changed.”

you bite your lip. “what if we just tell the police what happened?” ellie chuckles. “we ran. and they wouldn’t believe me anyway. listen, we can play this like i kidnapped you or something? murderous frenzy? way outta my mind? that might work.”

you stare at her like she actually is way outta her mind. “goddamnit ellie! i’m not letting you go to fucking jail for me! now shut up and keep driving.”

⋆˚✿˖° 7 years prior

you were dazzling in the low light of the bar. the music seemed to flow through you, overtaking your body. your movements, effortless but enchanting. hauntingly beautiful. hypnotizing.

ellie had up and gone and come back about 20 times (if you were counting right) and you were sure you were the reason she kept returning. never a moment in her reappearance had she missed the chance to sit and talk with you. smiling at you with so much love in her eyes you thought it might change your mind about her. about not getting too attached to a balloon that was facing the wind.

you’re startled by another presence, and by the change in music you can tell it’s her. she never fails to come back with a present. pretty key chain dangling on her index finger while her thumb points to the booth. how could anyone say no to that smile?

“when do you leave again?” you ask, conflicted on how you should react to the answer. she was doing what she’s always wanted to, but not seeing her was killing you inside. you couldn’t get over all the love you had for her. she tosses a toothpick around her mouth, then smirks showing that damn dimple. “in a couple days. you free?”

it was never just sex, though the sex was incredible. she’d take you on sweet little dates. she’d show you things you that you wouldn’t even know to go looking for. she’d talk to you about how the city was her heart but you were the blood running through it. how much she…

“want you there with me, but i know that you love this little shithole town.”

you scowl at her. “don’t call it a shithole. i love this place.”

“i know.” she sighs. “that’s why i keep coming back.”

[mochinek0]

3 Steps Back (meme)

Marinette stood awkwardly as she was confessed to, yet again. Before she could say anything, she saw someone rushing towards them in the distance.

"Um, can you take three giant steps backwards?" Marinette asked.

Confused, the person stepped back. In the blink of an eye, they found a dagger tip at their throat.

'What the fuck?'

They looked up to see Marinette with her arms around some guy's waist.

"Who is this guy?" he questioned, out loud.

"This is my very overprotective boyfriend." Marinette smiled.

The guy paled and took another step backwards.

"Got it." he announced and rushed away.

Marinette sighed as she let go of Damian.

"Habibiti, I could have handled him." he declared.

Marinette leaned up and kissed him.

"I don't want to call your dad and tell him your in jail for maiming." she replied.

Damian rolled his eyes, putting the blade away, "He can afford to bail me out."

"Like all the other times?" she questioned with a smile, "You're cute when you're jealous."

"People should stop asking you out." Damian huffed.

"I have an idea." Marinette announced, "You have to wait until tomorrow. I don't think you have anything to worry about after that."

Marinette walked into school with a shirt that read: Property of Damian Wayne. Damian blushed at the familiar writing style. He had seen it on cheerleaders at forced functions. She had chosen a dark blue shirt and yellow colors. It was reminiscent of when he went to Gotham Academy.

"Is this helpful, Dami?" Marinette asked.

The people around them stopped what they were doing to stare at the pair. Damian said nothing, but grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the school. Marinette smiled at his approval. Damian tried not to flush red at the warning sign on his girlfriend. It was a giant keep away sign.

'Why hadn't I thought about this sooner?'

Lila couldn't believe what she was seeing. Marinette was wearing a shirt that flaunted Damian Wayne as hers. There was no way that was going to happen; not while she was around.

"Damian, " Lila voiced in fake concern, "did you lose a bet?"

Damian merely glared at her. Marinette smiled from her place on his arm.

"It's okay, Habibi." Mari spoke, "It must be strange for her to see people like this; so happy."

Damian smirked and looked down at her. Lila couldn't believe that not only had Marinette talked back to her, but Damian Wayne had smiled at the goody-goody's snarky comment.

"You're one to talk." Lila lashed out, "Everyone hates you! Who wouldn't hate a bully?"

"You mean the pathetic rumors you spread around?" Marinette asked, "Only that one class believes you. The rest of the school laughs when your back is turned."

Lila heard people giggle behind them. It wasn't just one person, either. It was multiple people.

"Marinette is my property." Damian declared, "The shirt doesn't lie. She's my girlfriend and has been for two years."

Marinette smiled, "Damian got a little possessive when someone tried to ask me out again, yesterday."

"That is twenty people, who have asked you out in the past five months." Damian hissed.

"People?" Lila questioned.

Marinette blushed, "I've had girls confess to me, too. I don't mind wearing the shirt. Hopefully, after today, I won't have to stop Damian from attempting murder."

Damian and Marinette walked passed Lila. Lila moved to the sidelines as other people started to speak up.

"Damn, Damian made sure to scoop up the 'Queen of the School'."

"The Queen?"

"Do you expect anything else from a Wayne?"

Lila walked to class in silence. As she got closer, she could hear new whispers.

"Did you see Marinette?"

"Yeah, she was all over the Wayne kid!"

"I heard they're dating!"

"No they're not!"

"Everyone is talking about it! They have been toegther for two years!"

"Damian was the one to announce it."

"I never knew that Marinette was so popular."

"I feel bad for all those people she turned down, but she was already taken."

"What about her bullying Lila? I thought we all agreed it was because she was jealous of Lila getting close to Adrien."

"I don't think that's the case and it sounds like it hasn't been for awhile."

Lila decided to wait until after the bell to walk into class. From her spot, she noticed Damian walk Marinette to class.

"I will see you at lunch." Damian spoke.

She hated seeing Marinette smile.

"Habibiti, I must ask you one question." he spoke.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What am I to do if your shirt fails and people still try to claim what is mine?" he questioned.

Marinette stayed silent for a moment.

"I can wear this at least every two weeks, but I'm sure everyone will know by the end of the day." she began.

"And if they persist?" he growled.

"I'm sure they'll learn how possessive you are over the coming days." Marinette declared, "I think Bruce will be even more surprised he's not bailing you out of jail and paying for hospital fees."

"Father can afford it." Damian sighed.

Damian leaned down and kissed her.

"My statement stands; I will see you at lunch." he announced, before leaving.

Lila stayed flushed against the lockers, as Damian walked passed her. She sighed and sank to the floor.

'Jail? He hurt people for her? His father just bailed him out?'

She suddenly spotted a pair of shoes by her own feet. Lila quickly looked up and saw Damian Wayne glaring at her.

"I suggest you leave Marinette alone from now on." Damian declared, "My mother taught me that woman are manipulative. She taught me how to fight. I don't care if you are a girl; if you continue to spread rumors and I find out you started it, you will be injured beyond repair."

"You would be expelled." Lila spoke, softly, "You can't let Marinette manipulate you like this."

Damian quickly punched the locker next to her head. Lila slowly looked at his hand and saw the locker had been dented around his hand. He slowly pulled away, revealing the imprint of his hand.

He leaned in close and whispered, "Now imagine that being your jaw. You would never speak again. No more lies. I didn't move to Paris to be with Marinette; Father sent me because I was too violent away from her. It wouldn't be my first or last time breaking bones."

Damian turned and walked away. Lila snapped her eyes away from the locker as the bell rang. She quickly ran to class. As she sat down, she decided she was never going to ever say Marinette's name again.

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[reno-writes]

Bantering Smoke

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Habit Substitute Drabble Series! This will be 6 out of the 8 drabbles I will be writing, because, why not? Some characters like certain things on a daily. But what if you were there?

Here are the links for the others.

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Law] [Smoker] [Crocodile]

Rating: +18 (Slight mention of getting laid, but its banter. No sexual content here)

Word count: 1,438

Type: Slight Smut (Not really but, it is a little more aggressive)

Characters: Smoker, reader (AFAB)

Trigger warnings/content: Drinking, swearing, talking about dates/hookups, smoking

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” as the smoke wafts up and swirls around his ash hair, there was nothing on his mind other than the clouded annoyance from his trusted cadet who is best friends with his captain under him, yet he wasn’t going to take any orders from anyone, especially someone of a lower rank than him. “I swear if you keep it up, I am going to get you transferred, cadet, and maybe even kicked off the fleet,” scowling as his scar twitched to express his distaste in the choice of words she kept saying. “You wanna repeat yourself sweetheart?”

“You should stop smoking so much! It keeps getting on my uniform and it's hard to get the smell out. I swear my uniform is a whole shade darker because of you!” Her finger jabbed into his chest, her hat rested on the crown of her head so lazily despite her aggressive and straight-forward attitude. “Every time I go to the bar, people say I reek of cigar smoke because of you,” her eyes narrowed as her face got close. The slight scent of alcohol tainted her lips, which hinted the reason for her anger for this outburst she had. They were on a break from chasing pirates for weeks on end, and nabbing some here and there and throwing them in jail. Maybe, she went to a bar and was trying to talk to the other cadets in the other branches, or maybe she was trying to get laid since she seemed to be the angelic cadet, but he found out pretty slowly she was quite the opposite. Based on what he heard from his captain, Tashigi, they were friends since they were kids. Tashigi is quiet, works hard, thinks through what she may do before acting, trying to be more reserved when she is working, but Y/N on the other hand….

“So what? You can have more than one uniform, maybe bitch to Tashigi about it if you can’t handle the smoke. Seems you want to act like a little princess instead of a soldier, yes?” Crossing his arms so there was a little nudge to push Y/N back a little. Of course, he was taller than her, much taller, and stronger for sure. There was a slight pout of her glossed lips, maybe it was makeup or maybe it was her licking her lips to moisten them so she could rebut him. That sharp tongue of hers was vile sometimes, even mocking pirates, that often got her into many horrid situations, but it always worked out somehow. She was like him sometimes, but small, aggressive, a ticking-time bomb that no one wants to be around when her fuse gets lit. Even so, she acted like one of the guys, even outpacing the men on the fleet in both combat and in drinking.

“Listen, maybe this is why you can’t get laid, despite being an admiral. It's because you smell like an old man,” she got up on her tip-toes, to even attempt to get closer to his face. However, it was futile to even get an even eye-level with her, it was almost cute, such a small plaything really, getting her riled up, pushing her buttons to pull out her full potential, competing with him even for bragging rights of the pirates they bring into the capital. “Don’t you know? Smoking isn’t even good for you.”

“Yeah? Well, a lot of people in your rank smoke shitty cigarettes, and that shit reeks more than your attitude,” clasping his cigar between his pointer and middle finger, blowing the smoke into her face. Her lashes twitching to almost back away from his subtle attack to her glowing skin. “Maybe you are hooking up with people who are rubbing off on you, clearly it shows,” feeling a smirk creep up on his face, he puts the cigar back between his teeth, smiling at her and lifting up his head to heighten himself above her. Her expression was priceless, her anger was boiling over, and it was too cute to back away. He had to see it through, but maybe in his mind, it would be funny to pretend to leave so she would stop him. Of course, he could feel her eyes glaring into his eyes. “Well, if we are done here,” turning around to leave, he felt a firm pull on his coat, making him stop in his tracks. Bingo.

“Oh, so I am the one that has a shitty personality?” Her voice stern, anger gushing out from each word that pops in his ears. “Not once have I gone against your orders, and I don’t like cigarettes because they smell nasty and it's cheap.”

“So you like how I smell then?”

“Every time I smell a freaking cigar, it fucking reminds me of your stupid mug, your impudent attitude towards us, your personality that just never changes despite how many years I have known you, and especially your nasty ass haircut!” The constant tugging of each complaint, each insult didn’t let him budge, but of course she was much weaker than him, despite how she could take down some pirates with high bounties on her own through sheer willpower. Some wounds, bruises, broken bones, cuts and splinters showed her efforts in battles, but for him, it was just using his abilities to make him emerge from the ashes with nothing to show other than the enemy being dragged by his gloved fist. “I hate how much so much fucking reminds me of you.” Her words were like venom, turning his head slightly as he could feel his sunglasses on top of his head slip a little grasping it to hold it between his right hand.

“Does the little princess hate thinking about me so much?” Further pushing her buttons to see her fuming, her face turning visibly red as she lunged out to grab him by the collar to attempt to pull him down to her face.

“You piss me the fuck off. Hate seeing your face everywhere Smoker!” Her claws nearly tear his uniform, as he gently grips her wrist off him, his sunglasses in his other hand still as he places it back on top of his head.

“So you think of me all the time?”

“Yes! I-” she chokes, coughing not on the smoke, but her sudden confession, her slip up, backing up her red cheeks turning peach pink, her ears dusted with embarrassment as her eyes are still locked onto him. He caught her, like a rabbit in the grasp of a bear, toying with it before he mocks his victory by getting close to her face.

“So do you think of me when you hook up with those guys too?-”

“Shut up! No! I haven’t hooked with anyone because everywhere I look, I see-”

“Me?” Leaning down further to look up at her, mocking her at this losing battle she was trying to come back. Her cute lips were curled, bitten to stop herself from speaking any further to embarrass herself. “Ah, I see,” she was frozen, she was caught. This poor, cute, cannon was now a little flint, trying to fight but only for her flames to get extinguished each time. “Well, maybe I need to make sure you remember me everytime,” he wanted to intimidate her with every inch of his presence, smoke and haki. 

“There is no way you are going to make me more annoyed than before,” her words challenging him further. He took the chance, the second she took the chance to blink, he kissed her mouth, locking into a passionate kiss, taking every breath away as he moved the cigar to the corner of his lips so it wouldn’t get in the way. The taste of alcohol, smoke, and shock mixed as he could feel her almost falling backward with the force he forgot he had, pushing her back. His arm distinctly wrapped behind her waist, another behind her neck, deepening the kiss, but pulling back as he felt her tongue move to nearly touch his. Standing up tall, then taking a big drag from his cigar then moving it to the center of his lip, smirking a little before turning around to walk away, spitting out his cigar into the trash bin, glancing over his shoulder at the poor cadet who, by now, pulled her loose cap down to hide her face. “If you want me to stop smoking, then maybe you’ll have to remember how it feels when you talk back to me like that, little cadet.”