#Should I do this with the rest of the pack?

[cybearpunkmoods]

This is all one hundred percent true. Until my knees went bad from overworking my body (REMEMBER! REST PERIODS AND PROPER PROTEIN INTAKE ARE ESSENTIAL FOR HEALTHY MUSCLE RECOVERY AND JOINT CARE!) I was a hobbyist powerlifter and hobbyist combat sport athlete (Primarily HEMA but some boxing, too.) from the age of 14 to 22. Bodybuilding advice is generally skewed heavily in favor of less effective "Show muscle" that looks visually attractive. If you want to see what the actual strongest people on earth look like? Powerlifters. Google image search (remember to add -ai to your search terms!) "Powerlifter" or "Full Strength Strongman Contestant" or something of the sort. Those are powerlifters. Many of them are older than "Prime athletic age" and count as "Morbidly obese" by BMI standards because they're huge, heavy, and muscular, and because they properly feed their bodies they have a layer of fat over the top of their muscle. Here's a little tidbit, too. Muscle is heavier than fat. The reason exercise doesn't make you lose weight is because you're building muscle. The reason many bodybuilders weigh in light? Make note of if their muscles are standing out at rest or not. If you can see someone's six pack when they're not actively flexing that means they're doing something that the Pro Wrestling industry calls "Water fasting" to paper over the fact that they're dehydrated. I was 200 pounds of powerlifting muscle at 15 years old,standing five foot nine inches, and I was the third place record holder in Weight Training and Conditioning elective classes at my middle school for deadlifting. A doctor told me I was morbidly obese and wouldn't survive the anesthesia for a vision saving eye surgery and I had to get a second opinion about that. Legitimately shocking that standards and opinions haven't improved since then. I feel like I've gotten lost in the sauce and hijacked a bit from OP's point, but my point was that "Standards of fatness" even apply to the healthy and physically fit if they don't fit a very specific, VERY UNHEALTHY aesthetic, and that if you are as I was back then, we should be lifting up those who are picking up their pickaxes onto our shoulders and handing them megaphones to shout through.

Me: Exercise does not cause weight loss. This is a fact that has been demonstrated so robustly in research that even doctors, who hate and fear evidence, are grudgingly starting to admit this.

Someone reading that post: Cool, but have you considered that exercise leads to weight loss?

Me: I am going to eat you

[hyperdramas]

1-800-got-stress | jeon wonwoo

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

warnings: non-idol au, college/professor au, slight romance (?), english professor wonwoo x teacher's assistant reader, tiny sprinkles of humor, one-sided crush (?), wonwoo is very dense when it comes to reader's romantic feelings (not really though), reader still loves him anyways, cute ending??

now playing: return of the mack, mack morrison

dedicated to: @k1eev (<3)

"After the lecture, I want you all to come see my assistant before you leave. She has the next module printed out and organized for you all." Wonwoo's deep voice is the next thing you hear once you snap back into reality, and many of the college student's eyes dart away from you as you look around, more than likely aware of how long you've been gaping at the English professor.

Jeon Wonwoo was the person always on your mind now—ever since you started as his teacher's assistant earlier this month, you've always been thinking about him.

He was everything you weren't—calm, professional, disciplined and put-together. He knew what to say and how to say it, and what to do and how to do it—you were ninety-nine percent convinced that there was nothing Wonwoo couldn't do.

Not only was he annoyingly perfect at his job, but he was annoyingly handsome too—he was handsome to a massive amount of people, students and other professors included. He had sharp eyes that seemed to grow even sharper with the perfect amount of tiredness, and hard-edged features that you had memorized now with how much you had stared at him when he worked.

Time went slow as Wonwoo talked, deep voice echoing through the lecture hall as he gave his presentation on the deeper story of Romeo and Juliet, asking his class questions as he gaged their attention span.

You thought about how nervous you would feel under Wonwoo's gaze. Your face just heated up at it, imagining how you wouldn't be able to look him in the face without feeling completely inadequate.

It was already hard for you to look him in the face, and you were his personal assistant.

"Please finish the last essay I assigned at the beginning of the month. Since we're starting a new module this Friday, I want everyone to be on the same page." Wonwoo's voice was monotonous as students started to pack their things, and you placed the stack of module papers on the desk, letting the students grab and go.

The class filtered out slowly, some staying behind to ask Wonwoo questions and garner advice from him. You watched them quietly, straightening the closet as you dipped in and out of their conversations.

You had just heard another professor enter the room, asking Wonwoo to go out with her tonight for a drink, (to which he politely refused), when Wonwoo had addressed you.

"Are you doing alright? You've looked really tired today." Wonwoo's thick, stern eyebrows are flat as he stares at you blankly, and you try to read his sharp eyes for any flicker of emotion for a quick second, giving up as you give him an awkward smile.

"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Jeon. I'm not even tired—just a bit distracted, that's all." You reassure him, and Wonwoo nods, looking down at his watch as you finish straightening up your desk.

"You should get some rest. It's not good for you to be tired and trying to assist me, is it?" Wonwoo has a faint smile on his lips when he says this, and you try not to blush or melt under his hot gaze against your skin, fiddling with your collar awkwardly as you nod.

"Here, let me help you with those." Wonwoo's voice is directed to the stack of heavy books teetering on the end of your desk. You nod to him gratefully, allowing him to pick them up as you walk to the other side of the room, unlocking the storage closet door.

He held the books without strain, face still as he waited for you to finish putting your share of books down. Wonwoo followed you, cologne wafting in the air and drifting under your nose as he turned off the lights.

"Thank you for today. You did very well." Wonwoo's voice was sweet as he smiled at you, and you returned the gesture stiffly, making your way back to the desk as you grabbed your things.

"Of course, Mr. Jeon. You did well too, I mean—you did well with the lectures and everything. You teach everything in such a fresh way, it's tough for anyone to not be compelled or interested in what you're teaching." You were a sucker for Jeon Wonwoo, and it was starting to show more and more now—how were you supposed to be normal about him?

"It takes a lot to make the lecture engaging and informative, so I'm glad you think that of me. Many students call me the boring teacher." Wonwoo's voice is lighthearted as he finishes straightening up his desk, and you chuckle, mostly at the absurdity of his words.

"You're quite the opposite of a boring teacher, in my opinion. Your stories and explanations are way more animated than the textbooks could be." Were you showering your superior-turned-crush with embellished compliments? Yes. Did you want him to notice?

...Not really.

"You sure do have a lot to think about me, don't you?" Wonwoo's voice is still playful, even if it has a neutralness to it. You blush slightly at his words, earning a smile from Wonwoo as he smiles. "I'm just teasing you. I appreciate everything you say to me."

A slight pink tint to Wonwoo's cheeks brings an even brighter one to yours, and the two of you fall silent, obviously sensing something between you. Wonwoo's eyes rake over your form, and you shyly look up at him, dark brown eyes behind his frame still making you warm inside as you sigh (dreamily and deliriously, as you might add).

You had made Wonwoo—Professor Jeon Wonwoo, the boring, scarily neutral English professor—blush from your compliments. You would be wallowing in your achievement if you weren't also blushing at the moment.

"Well, I, uh—" You stumble over your words, also stumbling over your book as you pick it up from the floor. Wonwoo watches you quietly, glasses sliding down his strong nose bridge slightly as he watches you head towards the door. "I should get going. It's getting late, and I have to be back here early tomorrow."

"I'll walk you to your car." Wonwoo nods, following suit as he slips his jacket over his broad shoulders and picks up his briefcase. His dress shoes hit the wooden floor as he follows after you, and he turns out the light, leaving you two engulfed in darkness for a few seconds as you stumble back, stepping on Wonwoo's foot.

He grunts harshly under you, and you scramble back, lights in the hallway illuminating your embarrassed blush. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Wonwoo just smiles again, smile lines sending butterflies that go straight to your stomach. "No worries. You couldn't see because of me, and I'm sorry." His cologne is so strong and so him you can't think straight, but you do your best to string your words together.

"Well, Mr. Jeon, I'll see you tomorrow," The two of you had just left the building, now by your car as you unlock the door. Wonwoo watches you with sharp eyes, clearing his throat as you turn to him.

"If—If you'd like, we should converse over dinner sometime. Not as coworkers, but as good friends." Wonwoo's sentence brought a rude awakening to your world, and you stood in shocked silence for a second, processing what he said to you as you blinked blankly.

Wonwoo considered you to be a good friend—you would have never told by how unfazed he was by most things, but he considered you to be more than a coworker or partner. He saw you as a friend. A good friend who was asking you to dinner.

"Yeah, we—we should, Mr. Jeon." You agree, and Wonwoo clears his throat, sharp eyes daring away as he adds, "Oh, and you can call me Wonwoo. We're comfortable with each other now, so we can drop the formalities."

Not only were you Wonwoo's good friend, but you were such a good friend you could now call Mr. Jeon by his real name, Wonwoo. Too many green flags were going off in your head, but could Wonwoo sense he was giving you all these green flags? It only made your crush on him worse.

"Well, I'll get going, Wonwoo." Even his name on your lips felt sweet, and Wonwoo nodded, giving you a small wave as he closed your car door.

"Until tomorrow." He smiles softly again, and you melt into your seat, smiling as you nod back. "Until tomorrow."

feedback & reblogs are appreciated! love u lyrnation <3

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 10

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, talks of heats and ruts.

Chan sat at the table feeling worried. He was nervous about letting Y/N into Jeongin's room, but he trusted them both. He worried that Jeongin would be too rough with her and she wouldn't like it. "Hey! You made Y/N promise to call one of us if it got too much for her." Changbin assured as he nudged his alpha. "I know. I guess I'm worried about it being too much for her. Sex is almost new for her again, after what they did to her. I don't want her to get upset." Chan growled, his chopsticks being thrown onto the table. They were all worried about being too much for her during intercourse. Even Changbin worried that he might be too much for her in the future. "I think if we ease her into it and learn what she likes and doesn't like it might help her to feel safe with us when she does want to mate with us." Felix piped up. As much as Felix had thoughts about burying himself into her, he didn't want to upset her in any way. "Lix is right. If Y/N feels intimidated or afraid you might traumatize her." Hyunjin stressed. "Agreed," Chan stated as he watched Minho open some windows. The smell of Jeongin and Y/N's arousal started to consume the house. As much as the wolves loved to smell Y/N's arousal, smelling their pack members arousal was not exactly very arousing for them.

Jisung got up to grab some candles, hoping it would add some kind of scent distraction for them while they ate the rest of the food Y/N deliciously cooked. "Hyunjin. Question?" Seungmin asked as he looked at the brown-haired wolf. "What?" Hyunjin answered back, waiting for a remark from the younger beta. "You've had sex with Y/N? What are her boundaries? What does she like?" Seungmin asked. It was an honest question, but Hyunjin didn't see it like that. He saw it as invasive. A private question that should not be asked or even considered a thought. Chan, however thought it was a good idea to declare something so they knew when not to take it too far. The thing was Hyunjin had only ever been with her three times and they were very vanilla. This was mainly down to the fact Hyunjin was inexperienced and very much not interested in sex back then, but he knew what the others did to her, especially Wooyoung. He was always jealous of Hyunjin and tried to do everything to keep her away. It was mainly because of Hyunjin's power. Still, Hyunjin only knew a few things about her sexual interests. One was that she had a very good pain tolerance, but that was also down to her resilience. Then there was biting or cumming all over her, but that was subjective to each wolf. Every wolf had a different reaction with her because it depended on their connection with her.

Chan and the other wolves thought that was a valid response, but it was still good to know when they needed to draw the line. Some of them didn't like the idea of biting all over her. Mainly Jisung, Changbin and Felix who remembered what she looked like when she first came here. Seungmin on the other hand had a weird claiming kink and it wasn't surprising to the wolves he was desperate to get her in his room. Chan on the other hand stressed again he didn't want anyone cumming inside of her yet until she had a few heats and her body was stable. This was because Chan didn't want to disrupt her body by being on werewolf contraception. "Talking of heats and ruts. Who's next?" Jisung asked. "Um, Minho are you in the next few weeks?" Chan asked. His memory wasn't very good but he knew he had their cycles written down. "Yeah," Minho said awkwardly. He was rather private when it came to his ruts. "So then after Minho, Seungmin and Changbin should be next year because you two are freakishly in sync," Chan stated as he shook his head causing the two betas to laugh. Seungmin and Changbin were weirdly in sync and no one knew why. They rutted either the same day or a day apart so they had to rut in separate places. "I'm due soon," Felix muttered quietly. "Oh yeah, after you got sick months ago. You could be anytime." Chan stated as he remembered that time Felix accidentally got sick after catching a werewolf virus from his friend. It nearly caused them all to be sick. Seungmin looked at Felix and snickered as he thought back to the time they overstimulated the poor female wolf and they couldn't keep up. "What?" Felix asked. "What do you think our little wolf will be like on her first heat," Seungmin asked, causing Felix to shake his head. The other wolves laughed as they thought about how challenging she was going to be. "Considering how you two couldn't keep up tells me you're not going to be helpful." Hyunjin teased. "If she doesn't pick on them." Chan laughter. "When it happens we will cross that bridge, but do not embarrass her alright." Chan's warning didn't go unnoticed and the wolves nodded their head in submission. They would not make her feel an ounce of discomfort or embarrassment. They knew omegas could be sensitive and considering her sensitivity it may be heightened.

The wolves chatted as normal and started playing a board game while playing music to drown out the noises upstairs. It wasn't that they didn't want to hear their mate being pleasure, they wanted to be respectful. Even though some concerned eyes would look up to the ceiling when they heard a certain scream or growl, but they couldn't do anything. Y/N had promised she would call Chan or another wolf if she wanted out. "Do you think she's alright?" Jisung asked nervously. "She would have called Chan by now," Hyunjin stated. "Have you guys been upstairs?" Changbin asked as he came down the stairs, breaking the concerned discussion. "What why?" Chan asked, getting up from his seat, ready to go to his omega. "There's mistletoe all over our doors. I think there's Christmas shit in our rooms too." Changbin stated causing Chan to frown. "Felix!?" Chan scolded causing the blonde wolf to raise his hands in defence. "It smells like Minho was with her." Changbin mischievously said causing the wolves to look at him. Minho stood there with an innocent look on his face as Chan crossed his arms in annoyance. "Seriously," Chan stated. "You didn't see her face. I couldn't say no." Minho defended as he thought back to her beautiful silver eyes begging him. "What is she? Puss in boots?" Changbin laughed, causing Jisung to spit out his drink. It was true, the minute she pouted her grey eyes would draw you in. "Anyway, that's not another problem we have. I think Jisung has come inside her because I heard him and I quote word for word, 'I'm going to fucking breed you! Take my cum'. He's disgusting." Changbin stated causing Chan to growl.

Chan had not expected Jisung to be so stupid but he couldn't exactly throw him off of her and punish him. Chan had to make a decision. Does he punish Jeongin now or later? At the same time, he needed to make sure Y/N wouldn't get pregnant which was still unlikely but the possibility was there. In the end, Chan called Jaehee for an emergency pill, which resulted in an earful from Jaehee for their idiocy, even though it was Jeongin's fault, Chan got the brunt of it. He still got in trouble as soon as Jaehee was in the house. "How could you let him be so stupid? Her body hasn't balanced yet." Jaehee shouted as she threw the box at Changbin's head. "It's not my fault," Changbin whined. "Oh grow up. You're twenty-five and a training medic.!" Jaehee scolded. "I'm not the one fucking her!" Changbin defended. "Seriously. Are you all that desperate for her!? Huh? Even you Chan couldn't wait with a bloody poisoned wound." Chan pinched his nose at the older woman's attitude. Chan understood why Changbin was scared of her when she was angry. Her voice was gritty when she was angry and it sent shock waves up their spine. Jaehee held a dominating aura even though she wasn't an alpha. It was quite impressive. "I will go and deliver this now," Changbin said as he scurried off to deliver the pill to Jeongin's room, but ended up getting an awful growl from a predatorial Jeongin. "I wouldn't go in there. Poor baby is chained up." Changbin sighed causing the wolves to look up. "What is wrong with you all." Jaehee shook her head in disgust as she looked at the heathenous wolves. They were not going to change. If anything they were going to get worse.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627 @maggicotton @jellymochii @itzreetal987 @jennibahng @vampkittenb82 @catlove83 @thatgirlangelb @hyunmikim @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @tsunderelintz @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx @fr34k4c1dr41n

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[faithshouseofchaos]

I would like to see a part 2 to this

https://www.tumblr.com/faithshouseofchaos/762652024189976576/the-young-lewis-and-young-nico-being-told-off-by?source=share

Where it shows them now were their having trouble hiding from media because aparently no one would have guessed that brocedes were getting back in touch and this would be a headline if they can get info, and the other drivers surprise and confusion to this info is immense because they also thought that lewis and nico R hated each other in an extremely passive-aggressive way.

—🍑

A/n — @crispysoup318 I just combined the two idea as best as i cloud

I thought it was a joke — Lewis Hamilton x Male!Reader x Nico Rosebrg

Word count—776

Fluff Crack fic

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend had always been chaotic, but this year, it felt different. It wasn’t just the press swarming the paddock or the luxurious yachts packed along the harbor—it was the rumor mill spinning out of control.

It all started with a photo.

A single, grainy shot taken at a quiet café in Monte Carlo late last night. Nico Rosberg, sitting opposite Lewis Hamilton, both laughing over what looked like dessert. At first glance, it seemed like an amicable catch-up, shocking enough considering their years of tension. But the moment that sent the F1 world spiraling was the kiss—Lewis leaning over the small table, Nico tilting his head up, their lips meeting in a way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than romantic.

The first wave of shock hadn’t even settled when another photo hit social media. Nico’s so-called husband—you—appeared at the same café shortly afterward, leaning casually against Nico’s chair with a drink in hand. If that wasn’t enough to break the internet, the third shot did: you, Nico, and Lewis walking out together, Lewis’s hand resting lightly on your back while Nico smirked, his fingers brushing against yours.

Twitter descended into chaos.

“BROCEDES WAS A JOKE?!?!?”

“Nico has a HUSBAND?? And LEWIS IS PART OF THIS???”

“I need a second to breathe, but also I don’t think I can breathe.”

“So Nico hated Lewis… but also secretly loved him… while being married to this third guy… but then all three of them are a thing? Is this fanfiction?”

“Wait, wasn’t he just Nico’s husband?” someone muttered. “Like, how is Lewis involved in this?”

“And Nico and Lewis hated each other,” another replied. “This doesn’t make sense!”

In the corner, Charles Leclerc looked genuinely distressed, his breakfast untouched as he muttered to Pierre Gasly. “I don’t understand. They were always fighting, weren’t they? Like… properly angry. This has to be fake.”

Pierre, wide-eyed, shook his head. “Brocedes was a meme! A meme, Charles! How—” He gestured helplessly. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Nearby, George Russell frowned, clearly overthinking the situation. “But if this is true, that means they’ve been hiding it for years. Years!”

Carlos Sainz, standing beside him, choked on his coffee. “So Nico didn’t just retire to get away from Lewis?”

“Apparently not,” George deadpanned.

“They won’t need to. Look at Lewis.”

Sure enough, Lewis Hamilton, arriving just minutes after you, was doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. He strode into Mercedes hospitality with all the confidence in the world, flashing his trademark smile. Instead of slipping quietly into the back like he should have, he went straight to Nico, threw an arm around his shoulders, and pressed a quick kiss to his temple—in full view of half the paddock.

Carlos, who had just recovered from his earlier choking incident, muttered, “Wait, wait, what?!”

George’s jaw dropped. “I… I don’t think my brain can process this right now.”

It didn’t take long for the drivers to start gathering in small, confused groups, some pulling out their phones for updates. Lando Norris, scrolling Twitter furiously, let out a stunned laugh. “Guys, the memes are already insane. Look at this!”

He shoved his phone toward Oscar Piastri, who squinted at the screen. “They Photoshopped Nico holding a ‘Brocedes Forever’ sign,” Oscar said, trying not to laugh.

“This is a PR nightmare,” Toto Wolff said somewhere in the background, his voice carrying over the general noise.

For you, Nico, and Lewis, it was just another challenge in a relationship that had defied expectations from the very beginning. The trio had spent years carefully hiding it, crafting a delicate balance to keep the media—and nosy drivers—off their trail. Nico was known for his perfectionism, Lewis for his showmanship, and you for being the quiet, grounding presence who had seamlessly blended into Nico’s post-retirement life. No one had suspected that your relationship extended beyond friendship—or that it included Lewis.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” you muttered to Nico as he grinned at Lewis’s display of affection. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Nico arched an eyebrow, pretending to be affronted.

“Yes,” you said, ignoring the curious stares aimed in your direction. “You’re the one who said, ‘It’s fine. Monaco is basically our backyard. Nobody will notice.’”

“To be fair,” Lewis interjected smoothly as he slid into the seat beside you, his hand casually brushing your knee, “he’s not entirely wrong. Usually no one notices.”

“Except when you kiss him in public,” you said dryly.

Lewis grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I got caught up in the moment.”

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday's Gone — Chapter 7

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of murdering someone (as a joke, kind of), so much Scooby-Doo and dog talk, GIRL DAD RUSSELL!! (he's a warning because – well, you'll see)

Y/N: This chapter... this chapter is literally my favorite from this series. Enjoy!🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 6 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

“What the actual hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her words laced with enough venom to make anyone think twice about speaking.

Russell, clearly anticipating her fury, quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I know this sounds insane, and I know you probably hate my guts – fair enough, you’ve got every reason to – but Y/N sent me to grab some stuff for her and Emma.”

Your sister’s brows furrowed in confusion for many things. “Where the hell are they? What did you do–”

“They’re at the hospital in Springland” Russell cut in, holding up a hand. “They’re fine, okay? Just– let me pack some things for them. You can come with me, I’ll explain everything on the way” he said.

Her hands started to tremble, and she had to grip the doorframe to steady herself. “So, they’re okay? Emma’s okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. They’re good” Russell said, though his gaze was unreadable. “Please, let me–”

A flood of emotions hit Anna all at once. Relief, yes, but also an undercurrent of fear she couldn’t shake. Emma was okay. That’s all that mattered. Still, she didn’t understand why they would be in Springland. And…why hadn’t Y/N called her? And why the hell was he here picking up their stuff?

Anna stared at him, trying to read him. The whole situation was a mess. Y/N and Russell hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms, and now here he was, showing up at her door, looking exhausted and out of place. Why him?

Still, Anna couldn’t help the relief flooding through her. Y/N and Emma were safe. They had to be. But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was still off.

“Alright” she sighed and reluctantly let him in. She helped him pack some sweaters, a new pair of jeans, clean underwear and everything you’d need during a hospital stay. She also tossed clothes to Emma, her favorite plushie – a Scooby-Doo toy your parents gave her. 

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover it. The last few days had chewed you up, spat you out, and trampled over what was left. You weren’t just tired. You were hollowed out, running on fumes and sheer willpower. You had a feeling like you’d need a month's rest, minimum. 

But at least Emma was safe. She was sleeping peacefully now, tucked into the hospital bed beside you. Physically, she was unharmed, Rourke and his men hadn’t laid a finger on her. Yet, you knew that wasn’t the whole story. Mentally, the trauma of it all would leave scars neither of you could see just yet. Your brave, sweet girl had been kidnapped. Stolen away. And the thought of what could have happened – no. Your mind can’t even go there.

Now here you were, sitting vigil beside her hospital bed. You’d been given your own bed in the room – thank heaven for small favors – but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. Instead, you stayed planted by Emma’s side, staring at her tiny face as she slept. Her brows were furrowed even in rest, her lips pressed into a worried pout. Seeing her like that made your guilt weigh heavier.

You should have been her protector, her guardian angel, the one who kept the bad things away. And yet here you were, staring at the evidence of your failure. No four-year-old – or any child, for that matter – should have to go through this.

Your mind wouldn't quit, racing through the last few days like a bad movie on loop. First, the panic when you realized Emma was gone, the gut-wrenching moment it hit you, like a punch to the stomach. Then there was Rourke, that smug, twisted, mustache-framed smile of his, and the mess you’d thrown yourself into just to get her back. The helplessness you felt when you finally decided to call Colter. And, of course, there was Russell blowing back into your life like a hurricane, as if you hadn’t just spent years avoiding him.

They’d saved her. Saved both of you, really. And for all the hurt and confusion between you and Russell, you couldn’t deny that he had stepped up when it mattered most.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. 

The door creaked open, and Anna’s familiar auburn hair peeked in first. Her eyes softened when they landed on you and Emma. She slipped inside, moving quietly not to wake Emma, and behind her came Russell, lugging two heavy sports bags.

Anna came straight to you, her arms wrapping around you tightly as soon as she reached your side. You returned the hug, letting her warmth chase away a fraction of the chill that had washed over your skin.

“God, I was so worried. So, so, so worried.” she whispered with a voice heavily trembling.

“I know, I– I’m so sorry” you murmured. “I was too. Did Russell tell you?”

She pulled back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, he briefed me” she said as her hands were still gripping your arms. “Don’t worry, I put him in his place” she said and Russell rolled his eyes at that. She really did, the whole car ride had been a rather tense experience.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Thank you for coming. You didn’t have t–”

“Stop” Anna cut you off, smoothing a hand over your hair like she used to when you were kids. “Of course, I did.”

Her eyes slid to Russell, and her mouth tightened into a thin line. She knew you two had so many things to talk about, but – for obvious reasons – she didn’t want to leave you with him. On the ride here, Russell tried to explain everything. And by everything, he meant everything. His line of work, the reason you were brought to your sister’s house that night four and a half years ago, and the real reason Emma was taken. To say Anna hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. But even in her anger, she couldn’t miss the regret in his voice, or the way he spoke about Emma – like she was the most precious thing in his world, even though he barely knew her. That, more than anything, made her hesitate.

Anna’s gaze darted to Russell, who was mindlessly unpacking one of the bags she’d hurriedly thrown together, then back to you.

With a reluctant sigh, she said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Her voice carried the weight of a thousand unspoken warnings, all of them aiming directly at Russell. “I brought the essentials,” she added, nodding toward the duffels by the door. “I’ll be outside. Need to call Mom and Dad anyway.”

“Thanks, Anna”

She gave you a small, tight smile and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Emma’s forehead. Without another word, she stepped out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Russell. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, not this time.

Russell cleared his throat, abandoning the duffels mid-unpack, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Thank you” you said quietly, your voice softer than you’d expected.

“For what?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t have a specific answer, really. There was too much to thank him for.

Bringing you here to make sure you and Emma were safe, for one.

At the diner, he’d distracted Emma with soothing words and a little game – like connecting with her was the most natural thing in the world. That moment had surprised you, even warmed you.

And then, of course, there was the big thing. The thing that mattered most. He and his brother had risked their lives to save Emma. Your child. Your entire world.

Sure, he was partly the reason Emma had been in danger to begin with. But after everything, could you really hold that against him? Not more than you blamed yourself, anyway. He hadn’t even known about her, let alone that she could be used as a pawn to hurt him. That part? That was on you. You’d made the decision to keep quiet about your pregnancy, letting your own hurt and anger drown out better judgment.

Really, both of you had made mistakes. He hadn’t told you what his real job was. You hadn’t told him he was going to be a father. And now, here you were – two people who had made a mess, trying to pick up the pieces.

“How is she?” Russell asked, his gaze landing on Emma. His voice was steady, but you could hear the waves of guilt underneath like a howling ocean.

“She’s... okay” you said, letting out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in your chest for days. “Physically, at least. The rest? That’s going to take time.”

He nodded but his jaw worked like he was trying to grind his regret into dust. “She’ll get through this…She’s strong. Like her mom.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in his words. For a second, the fortress you’d built around yourself wavered.

Hell, who were you kidding? That thing had crumbled the second Emma was back in your arms.

“I don’t know about that” you admitted.

“I do” he said, stepping a little closer, careful. “I saw it. These last few days... you didn’t stop. You didn’t back down. Not even when I showed up and probably made everything ten times harder.”

Your chest tightened, and you glanced down at your hands. They were still trembling, like your body hadn’t gotten the memo that the worst was over.

“I was terrified, Russell. Every second, I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d never see her again.”

“But you didn’t” he said, sitting beside you like he belonged there. After a beat of silence, he added, “Because you fought for her. And when it came down to it, we fought for her together.”

That last word hit you like a gentle nudge to the heart. Together. You lifted your eyes to meet his, and for the first time in longer than you cared to admit, you saw something there you hadn’t let yourself see before. Honesty. Regret. And maybe... hope?

“I don’t even know how to thank you” you said, your voice soft. “You and your brother. I don’t even know where to start. I can’t—”

“Don’t” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I just... I had to. For her. For you.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. “You saved her, Russell. That means everything to me.”

He leaned forward, his hand hovering near yours, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to close the gap. “I’d do it again. A thousand times over.”

The silence between you stretched, but for once, it wasn’t awkward. It was thick with all the things neither of you were ready to say but couldn’t deny anymore.

Finally, you reached out and your fingers brushed his calloused hands. “Stay” you whispered. “We’ve got a lot to figure out, but... I’d like you to stay. At least until she wakes up.”

The corners of his lips tugged up slightly, almost like he wanted to smile but thought better of it.

“I can do that.”

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t remember when or how you drifted off, and you certainly can’t remember how you got into the bed beside Emma’s. For a moment, you were completely disoriented, like a GPS that lost signal. Your ears perked up at the sound of the TV, the familiar voice of Don Messick’s echoing through the room like an old friend. Was that Scooby-Doo you were hearing? Had you and Emma watched so much of it that now your brain was hallucinating talking dogs in your sleep?

You slowly peaked one eye open, then the other, dopiness sweeping through your system. You had to blink a couple before the blurry sight became clear in front of you.

There was Emma, sitting up on her bed, her eyes glued to the hospital TV in the corner, watching a rerun of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? She was making soft, nonsensical sounds that barely registered to you in your half-awake state. 

And next to her, there was Russell, lying on his side with his head propped up on one arm, also mumbling. Emma’s head was nestled against his torso, her small body curled up in a cozy little ball next to his as she clutched the Scooby plushie Anna must have packed for her. They were both completely absorbed in the episode, their voices blending together in what could only be described as an animated commentary on the show.

You tried to make sense of what they were saying, but their words were a jumble to you – intelligible to them, maybe, but not to your sleep-fogged brain.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize the episode they were watching: Decoy for a Dognapper.

Of course. Emma was a Scooby fan. You and her know all the episodes by heart at this point, so much that Scooby-Doo was practically a second language in your house. And it seemed like Russell had caught on too, or at least, he’d been swept into the Scooby-verse by default. The two of them were so wrapped up in their conversation, they didn’t even notice you were awake.

“No way! She won’t? Why not? A dog is awesome” Russell said, his voice carrying the first full sentence your foggy mind could grasp.

“She says I’m too young” Emma replied, snuggling closer to his side as though the injustice of it all was just simply too much to bear.

“Too young? That’s ridiculous. What does that even mean?” Russell shot back, his tone scandalized for comedic effect. “Dogs don’t care how old you are. They care if you’ve got snacks and ear scratchin’ in store for ‘em.”

Emma giggled. “Mom doesn’t wanna pick up poop.”

Russell tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, if I remember correctly, your mom was seriously considering getting a dog a few years ago.”

At that, you sat up with a groan. “Really, Russell?” 

It was true, he and you both knew it. About five or so years ago, you’d gone on and on about adopting a dog – all the goddamn time. Russell had endured countless rants about breeds, shelters, and the pros and cons of pet ownership. Now, the smirk on his face told you he was thoroughly enjoying throwing it back in your face. Payback’s a bitch, huh?

Both of them turned to look at you. Emma with her wide-eyed, angelic innocence, and Russell with a grin that was downright infuriating in its smugness.

“Morning” he greeted with a widening grin. “We were just discussing the tragic lack of a dog in Emma’s life. Care to defend yourself?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Emma chimed in with an emboldened voice by her new ally. “Why can’t I have one?”

You rubbed your temples, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Because you’re too young, and I know exactly how that would end. I’d be the one walking it, feeding it, and cleaning up after it, dealing with everything.”

Russell raised a brow, looking way too amused. “Funny, you didn’t seem to mind the idea a couple of years ago.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t make her think she has backup in this, Russ.”

“Too late” he said, leaning back with a grin. “Team Dog is officially in full force, yeah?”

Emma threw her hands in the air triumphantly, flashing you the biggest grin. “Team Dog!”

You groaned, but the warmth bubbling in your chest betrayed you. It wasn’t just the banter – it was seeing them like this, bonding over something silly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Emma looked like a carefree kid again. 

You narrowed your eyes at Russell, fully expecting another smug remark when he suddenly looked... hesitant. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight on the bed like a man about to drop a bombshell.

“What?” you asked, immediately suspicious.

“Well” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “don’t freak out, but... your parents are here. They got here a couple hours ago while you were out. Anna called them, I guess. She must’ve worked her magic because, well... let’s just say I was fully prepared to be murdered the second they walked in.”

Your hand flew to your forehead as you groaned, visions of your parents tearing into Russell flashing through your mind.

You didn’t tell them about him being here yet… and you guess it was already too late.

Your dad would be loud about it, your mom quieter but somehow more terrifying. You could only imagine the list of grievances they had ready for him. You just hoped they didn’t cause a scene in front of the whole hospital – and most importantly, in front of Emma.

“Wait” you narrowed your eyes. “They’re not trying to kill you? What did Anna even say to make that happen?”

“I think she went with the ‘he saved Emma’ card. Pretty sure your mom’s exact words were, ‘Well, I suppose I won’t bury him under the hydrangeas... yet.’”

You couldn’t help it, you snorted. It was just so her. “Sounds about right. And dad?”

Russell winced theatrically. “Your dad... definitely gave me the look. You know, the one that says, ‘I’m debating whether you’re worth the jail time.’ But he hasn’t thrown any punches yet, so I’ll count that as a win.”

Emma tilted her head, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why does Grandma and Grandpa wanna hurt Russell? He’s so nice!”

The room went so quiet you could hear the faint hum of the hospital machinery. Russell froze, looking at you for backup, but you were too busy giving him a look – the universal signal for you started this, buddy, now deal with it.

“Well, sweetheart” he said slowly, scratching his head. “They don’t actually want to hurt me. It’s just... a joke. You know, like when people say they’re gonna kill someone, but they don’t really mean it?”

Emma gave him a serious look, like she wasn’t entirely convinced. “But why? What did you do?”

You sighed, realizing there was no easy way out of this. “Sweetie” you began gently, “it’s kind of a long story. But Grandma and Grandpa are just... protective. They’re not mad at Russell anymore. Or at least, not much.”

Emma’s curious gaze ping-ponged between the two of you. “Why?”

“Okay” you said, sitting on the edge of Emma’s bed and taking a deep breath. “The thing is... Russell didn’t do anything bad. Not really. It’s just... well, a long time ago, before you were born, Russell and I used to–”

“Date…” Russell interjected, apparently deciding to rip the band-aid off.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Date? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend.”

She stared at the two of you, her little brows furrowing as she processed this new information. Then her face lit up with excitement. “Were you married?”

“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes” you said, holding up your hands. “No, we were not married. We just... used to be together.”

Emma tilted her head again, her expression now puzzled. “Then why are Grandma and Grandpa angry at Russell?”

Russell chuckled nervously. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, kiddo. They’re just... protective of your mom.”

“Very protective” you muttered. You took a deep breath, preparing for the big reveal. “Sweetheart, here’s the thing. After Russell and I stopped being boyfriend and girlfriend… I found out that you were already growing in my belly.”

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her mouth forming a perfect O at your carefully selected words. “You mean… like when babies are in tummies?”

You were trying to keep your tone light as you nodded. “Exactly like that.”

Emma tilted her head, her little brow furrowed as she worked it out in her mind. “So… that means… Russell’s my daddy?”

Russell smiled, his heart visibly melting. “Yeah.”

Emma blinked at him, then at you, then back at him, as though she was piecing together the most important puzzle of her life. After a moment of silence, her face broke into a huge grin. “YAY! I have a daddy!”

Emma scooted closer to Russell, wrapping her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re my daddy now! That means you have to stay forever!”

Russell’s eyes glistened, and he hugged her back tightly. “I’ll be here as much as I can, I promise.”

Emma pulled back slightly, her face lighting up with another burst of excitement. She turned her wide, sparkling eyes up at Russell. “Can we get a dog now, Daddy?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh, for the love of – Emma!”

“What?” she said innocently, looking between you and Russell. “You said no before ‘cause it was just you! But now Daddy can help with the poop!”

Russell burst out laughing, clearly enjoying this too much. “She’s got a point, you know.”

You shot him a look that could have frozen water. “Don’t encourage her.”

“Team Dog!” Emma giggled and Russell ruffled her hair affectionately, somehow steering her to sit back down and continue their Scooby-Doo marathon.

Despite yourself, you took a deep breath, still trying to get your head around the unexpected turn of events.

This was... a lot.

But for some reason, it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it should. Sure, it had been a complete curveball to drop the whole Russell-is-your-dad bombshell, but Emma’s bright smile, the way she’d lit up at the news, somehow made it all feel like it could work.

As Emma giggled, you let out a sigh of relief. This wasn’t how you thought this conversation would go, but somehow, it was already starting to feel a little more like a family.

A very unusual family.

But a family nonetheless.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Next on Tuesday's Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 8):

Still, Russell had clearly decided that proximity was his job. He was there nearly every day, and on more than a few nights, too. 

“Just in case” he’d say. You didn’t know, but he loved staying there when the both of you were sound asleep. During those times, he felt an indescribable peace. 

And then there was his latest obsession: fixing everything. It started innocently enough – he noticed a cabinet door hanging loose and gave it a quick tune-up. Then he spotted the wobbly bathroom doorknob. Before long, the guy was like a one-man Home Depot commercial, patching up squeaks and quirks you hadn’t even realized were annoying you.

And at first, you didn’t even notice. But one day, you walked into the kitchen, and something felt... off. Not bad-off, just different. Quieter. 

The cupboards didn’t bang shut anymore, the sticky drawer slid like butter, and that creaky floorboard by the living room? Silent. It was like Russell had decided that if he couldn’t fix all your problems, he’d settle for conquering your house.

And the worst part? It was kind of working.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

I might have giggled all the way while writing it, or maybe I didn’t. But hey, Emma has a dad!

Chapter 8 coming soon...

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989 @drakelover78 @amberlthomas @lomlbuckybarnes @n-o-p-e-never

[fluentmoviequoter]

Luck Be a Lady Tonight

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: During a weekend off with your team, you run into one of the FBI's most wanted criminals. With a little luck and Deacon on your arm, you catch the criminal in a trap that places him exactly where you need him.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, depiction of gambling/casino setting, canon-typical danger and violence

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“You look ridiculous,” you say, leaning against the wall in the hotel hallway.

“This is classic,” Street argues.

“Classic rat pack, maybe,” Tan interjects. “Heavy on the rat.”

“Alright,” Hondo says, pushing off the wall. “Street, change, or we’re going now. We aren’t going to get another weekend like this for a while.”

“He makes it sound like a bad thing,” you whisper to Deacon.

“You could’ve turned down the invitation,” he says, smiling.

“And listen to Hondo’s attempt at making me feel guilty after? That is a terrible weekend.”

Hondo calls your name, then Deacon’s, and waves for you to join the rest of your team in the elevator.

“Think I can win big at the nickel slots?” you ask.

“About as likely as Street getting any female attention in that outfit,” Tan mutters as the doors close.

Sitting at a table on the small balcony overlooking the casino, you scan the large room and locate four of your five teammates. Chris had plans with her family this weekend, so you’re the solo woman on the tip. You don’t mind; you enjoy spending time with the rest of your team, but the decision to spend the long weekend off in Palm Springs at a casino spa wasn’t your first choice.

You raise your glass, then freeze before it reaches your lips. There’s a man playing roulette who looks incredibly familiar. Lowering your glass, you watch him, observing his body language and how he speaks to the dealer. You can’t place him, so you lift your phone, putting your elbow on the table to remain inconspicuous, then take a picture of the man when he turns to order a drink. You upload the photo to the limited-access LAPD site, which returns as flagged. Only one line is legible in the scanned file, but it increases your heart rate.

“Miguel Calvo,” you whisper. Your chair slides backward as you stand, and a warm hand hovers beside your waist.

“You alright?” Deacon asks, looking at you intently.

“See the guy at the roulette table? Red jacket?” you inquire softly. Deacon nods, and you say, “That’s Miguel Calvo.”

“From the FBI’s most wanted list?”

Nodding softly, you relax as Deacon’s hand finishes the journey to your waist. He looks at you rather than watching the criminal or looking for the rest of your team. You have feelings for Deacon, not understanding how or why they started, but you feel complete beside him. You haven’t exactly hidden your admiration of him, and, on many occasions, he’s shown you he feels the same, but you haven’t crossed that line. And it looks like your relaxing weekend just turned into a chase, so you won’t get a chance to inch closer to that line.

“I have an idea,” Deacon says. “We’re out of our jurisdiction, but since he’s got a federal warrant, we should be able to make it work.”

“Tell me how I can help,” you offer, drawing Deacon’s attention back to you.

“Are you open to going undercover on our own?”

“Anything. Where do we start?”

“Well… we’re going to need a little luck.”

Your cheeks begin to hurt after the first few minutes of smiling. Between the new outfit Deacon procured for you and the flirtatious looks you’ve been sending Miguel since your return, you feel like you’re working a con. Deacon’s plan seems good enough, but it relies on you being able to get close to a man suspected of numerous felonies, including murder. He had a woman on his arm when you first noticed him, but now he’s alone and has moved from roulette to Ultimate Texas Hold ‘Em.

As you walk past the table, you hear him tell the dealer, “Lots of things worth holding here, eh?”

Dropping your smile, you look over your shoulder, hoping you convey the flirty look you’re going for. Miguel locks eyes with you before you toss your hair over your shoulder and continue walking. Exhaling slowly, you keep the deliberate sway in your hips as you exit the casino and return to the balcony. You place your hands on the railing and watch, allowing your gaze to linger on Miguel longer than anyone else in the room.

Miguel stands after winning against the dealer, buttons his jacket, and begins strolling leisurely around the slot machines. He walks past Street and Tan, none the wiser to their law enforcement ties or knowledge of who he is. When he reaches the stairs, he leaves the casino behind and walks with purpose to your side.

His hand slides around your waist, and you press your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep yourself from tensing at his touch. He tugs you once, and you laugh airily as you spread your hands over his chest, your body forced against his.

“Hi,” you say softly, tracing the edges of his jacket as you introduce yourself.

“MIggy,” he replies. “So, you’re more of an observer than a gambler?”

“I- I’m not very lucky,” you admit with a shrug. “But I like watching.”

“Well, señora suerte, let’s change that.”

He keeps his arm around you but turns you to walk with him. You feel like an accessory more than a person as you accompany him down the stairs. Street raises his hand from the machine he’s sitting at to show you he has your back. Your entire team is worthy of trust, but having Street around in this particular situation helps you breathe a little easier. Deacon is upstairs, but you’ll know when he arrives. You always do.

“What’s your favorite number?” Miguel asks, his fingers brushing dangerously low on your hip. You answer without hesitating, and he replies, “How about a little Blackjack? We’ll see how far your luck takes us.”

You stand behind Miguel, slightly to his right. The woman with him earlier stayed close to him, and when he reaches back and pulls your arm to tug you against his back, you realize it was because he wanted it. Watching over his shoulder, you raise your eyes often to locate your team.

“Room for one more?” Street asks as he approaches the table.

Miguel nods to the dealer, who steps back to deal Street in. You trace your fingers up Miguel’s back, then rest your hand against his shoulder. He leans back momentarily and kisses your jaw, making you swallow uncomfortably. Luckily, he doesn’t try anything more and returns his attention to the game.

“You said you’re unlucky,” Miguel says, spinning on his stool after another game. He holds your waist and looks up at you to ask, “What’d you have such bad luck on?”

Your eyes widen as you look over his head. He furrows his brows, and your lips part before you whisper, “Roulette. I think I got a little too comfortable betting on black.”

Miguel stands and follows your line of sight. Deacon descends the staircase, stealing the attention of men and women alike in the casino. Dressed in a black English-cut suit tailored to accentuate Deacon’s muscular build, he looks like he just walked out of a James Bond movie, and it seems you’re not the only one who thinks so. Several women walk to his side, attempting to drape themselves on his arm. He sends them the heart-stopping grin you crave to see and a polite declination.

“Roulette it is,” Miguel snaps, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You stumble slightly, then catch yourself and hold his arm as you follow him. “Sorry,” you whisper. “Do you know him?”

Miguel shakes his head. When he reaches the roulette table, he looks at you to say, “It’s not black or red. But…” He glances at Deacon in his crisp black suit and decides, “I’m thinking that you and red might be the luck I need.”

You aren’t entirely sure if he said you in red or you and red, but you are not going to give him the luck he thinks either way. Deacon stops by the table to watch Miguel roll his dice, then drags his eyes up to your face. He’s a good actor, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen during cases before.

“Not bad,” Deacon applauds. “I’ve always been more of a bet on black guy myself.”

“Me too,” you agree, breathless without feigning it this time.

“It’s not that simple,” Miguel argues. He tightens his arm around your waist and adds, “Besides, I’ve got lady luck on my side tonight.”

Deacon smiles and says, “Ah, I see. And a beauty she is. Any chance you’re willing to spare her for one bet?”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as his hand presses against your side. “She should really stick with the guy she came in with, no?”

You pout and press your hand on Miguel’s chest again, looking through your lashes to ask, “You said I’m your señorita suerte. It won’t hurt, just once, right?”

He releases you with a stiff nod, and you loop one arm around Deacon’s elbow as you place your other hand on his bicep. Deacon smiles at you, and your grin grows into the genuine sign of joy Deacon has grown to expect when you see him.

“Wait,” you request after Deacon picks up the die. You lean over but hold eye contact with Deacon as you blow on them. “For luck,” you add lowly, returning to his side.

“May luck be a lady tonight,” he murmurs before rolling.

You watch as one of the dice goes directly onto the 20-black compartment. Deacon’s bicep flexes behind you as he cheers, and you lay your hand on his shoulders to kiss his cheek. As you step back, Deacon catches your waist.

“You are good luck,” he muses.

“Excuse me,” Miguel calls angrily. “I believe that was your one bet.”

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” you say, stepping away from Deacon. “Nice job.”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as you begin wandering all over the room. He glares at Deacon, who raises his eyebrows with an easy smile.

“I’m the kind of man who makes my own luck,” Miguel says. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No, I don’t,” Deacon replies, crossing his arms as his blazer stretches over his back. “Spell it out for me.”

Miguel presses his finger against Deacon’s chest and hisses, “I was behind the murders in the casino in Jackson, Mississippi. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Deacon blinks, then shrugs. “You should work on your intimidation tactics.”

“Poker room, me and you. Winner gets lady luck over there.”

“She’s a person, not a trophy.”

“Maybe to you.”

Deacon smiles again as he asks, “You want to play in the poker room? Let’s do it. But at least give me an idea of what I’m getting into if I were, hypothetically, to make sure I won. No cost too high.”

“The last time a dealer gave me the wrong cards, I caught him in the parking lot and put a Glock 17 in his ear. That enough hypotheticals for you?”

“It’s enough for me,” you say.

Miguel looks over his shoulder, and you wave as you hold your off-duty weapon at his back. Street and Hondo approach him from either side, but you nod to Deacon to do the honors.

“You’re under arrest. The FBI will be here in a few minutes to pick you up. Now, you can walk out with us peacefully, maintain the tiny reputation you have,” Deacon explains. He lowers his voice and leans closer to Miguel to finish, “Or I can drag you out of here and make you beg for a little more luck.”

“I vote option two,” Street mumbles, but you barely catch it as you watch Deacon.

“I’ll walk,” Miguel whispers. “And I’ll give up someone bigger than me, the man who helps me win.”

“That’s a discussion for you and the U.S. attorneys’ office,” Deacon says, wrapping his hand around Miguel’s arm. “Start walking.”

You knock on Deacon’s door, and when he opens it, he invites you in without a word.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you cross your legs beneath you in the chair beside his bed. “I couldn’t have done that without you, at least not that smoothly.”

“The feds seemed to think you could,” he says with a smile, reminding you of how many officers personally thanked you for bringing Miguel Calvo into custody.

“You called me lady luck,” you muse. “Do you think there’s room for doubt?”

Deacon walks to you, leans over, and places his hands on the arm of the chair you’re in. There are mere breaths between you, and Deacon gives you a moment to notice it, struggles to control you’re breathing in the proximity, and then promises, “Not a bit.”

“Are you going to tell me where you got the dress now?” you inquire.

“Someone’s assistant was bringing it from the dry cleaners,” he answers. “But I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to place one hand on the back of your head. You’ve showered and pulled your hair back simply after an afternoon with an over-the-top hairdo, and Deacon finally feels like he’s holding you again. He kisses you, lowering himself until he’s on his knee and level with you. You loop your arms over his shoulders and decide you are lucky. The man kissing you is all the proof you’ll ever need of that.

“Hey, Deac, I-“

You pull away from Deacon as Street stops talking. As you wipe your finger under your lips to fix your lip balm, Street looks between you and Deacon.

“Before you get mad, I just want to point out that you gave me a key,” Street begins.

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 2

Part 1

The last time Eddie had seen Steve, they’d been young and stupid and with a pup on the way. The last time he had ever heard about him was when Chrissy told him the pup had been born, healthy and beautiful. Eddie had tried not to think about either of them since then. And most days, he succeeded. He thought he’d gotten over thinking about what could have been but he couldn’t help that fragile kind of hope trying to bubble forth as he packed a light duffle and got into his truck. 

He drove and drove for hours and hours, memories coming forth without his permission as the miles spread out.

“I should make you get rid of it! You think that just because you whore around you can do whatever you want?!”, Richard Harrington jabbed a finger towards his son.

Eddie pushed between them, just barely holding his teeth back from snapping that finger off. But his fangs were bare. “You can’t fucking talk to him like that!”

“You stay out of this mutt!”

“What a piece of shit”, Eddie said to himself as he got closer and closer to his old hometown. He remembered where the Harrington estate was. He could have driven right up to it. But he needed some liquid courage before he did that. And the odds of him being allowed to rest in one of the dozens of guest rooms was slim, so he’d need a motel too.

After procuring a room, he walked down Main Street, not at all surprised to see that very little had changed in the years since he’d been gone. It was a small town, after all. With small minded people. But it was noon and the bar was in sight.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here, Munson.”

“Why Jason Carver, what a delight”, Eddie said. He’d spotted Jason across the street and hoped he could have made it into the bar unnoticed. No such luck. And of course, he had his cronies with him.

“You have some nerve.”

“You’ve said that already. All these years and you haven’t rehearsed a decent script?”

“Why the hell are you back in town?”, Jason demanded to know.

“Personal business”, Eddie looked down at his nails.

“He’s probably here to go digging for gold now that old Harrington’s dead”, one of the cronies said. If Eddie remembered right, his name was Andy. How pathetic.

“That’s right”, Jason said like he just remembered. “With him gone, you can go sniffing around Steve again.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m right. You are here for Steve.”

“He’s the only one in this town worth a visit, so sue me.”

Jason was annoying. But he wasn’t really worth Eddie’s time. He’d never been. It was just the circumstances of sharing such a small space that forced them to butt heads but as long as Eddie kept his cool-

“You and that whore are meant for each other.”

Eddie saw red, then suddenly Jason was on the ground, holding his face as more red spilled out onto the sidewalk.

-------------------------

Eddie was used to being handled by cops and being taken down to the precinct, which was sorry to say. It was even more sorry to say that he had no one to call. Chrissy came to pick Jason up and her eyes widened to see Eddie, though he knew Jason must have told her about him when he phoned her.

But she reigned in her expression as she collected her husband. Eddie wished it was easy to talk with her. He wished they had that freedom. But they had both learned to stay within their boundaries. Eddie was resigning himself to a night spent in lock up when someone came by and opened up the cell.

“Munson, you’re being released.”

Bewildered, Eddie got up, wondering if Chrissy had somehow returned. He froze mid step when he saw his benefactor. Steve looked just as beautiful as the day Eddie had left him. And he looked positively angelic in that cream colored sweater. Eddie swallowed. He hadn’t thought about what he’d say because what was there to say? Everything he came up with sounded too small to encompass everything he’d felt since the call. Since they parted, really.

Steve fixed that by stomping right up to Eddie. “You’re a complete idiot, you know that? Causing trouble the moment you return?” Only as the words left his mouth did Steve seem to realize what he said and he shrank back. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say right out the gate. You never called back and I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Stevie”, Eddie said, the nickname falling from his lips much too easily for what they were supposed to be. He cupped Steve’s cheek and swooned from how the omega melted into it. “I missed you.”

Steve closed his eyes, savoring it before pulling back. “Come.”

Eddie followed him outside to the car and with a couple of seatbelt clicks they were on their way. 

“I’ve got a room, so you don’t need to worry about me”, he said.

“Oh, um, well that’s good. That’s good.” Steve didn’t know why he expected any different. There was no way in hell Tommy would ever allow Eddie to stay under their roof.

“So, what have you been up to?”, Steve asked.

Eddie chuckled. “Are you really trying small talk right now?”

“We haven’t spoken in years. I’m genuinely curious.”

“Nothing extravagant. I’m just about a day’s drive away. I work as a mechanic. Where are you driving us anyway?”

“Back to the house”, Steve said. “I know you have a room, but I figured you’d want to get settled some kind of way.”

“Take me to our son”, Eddie said.

Steve swallowed and Eddie put his hand on top of his on the gear shift. Steve changed their route to that of the hospital. Eddie braced himself as they got up to the room, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. A boy that was a perfect mix of him and Steve. His curls with Steve’s chesnut brown. 

“His name is Dustin”, Steve said. “And he needs an operation. You’re the only one who can help him. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know that. But my pup is my world. And he’s hanging on by a thread. He needs you, Eddie.”

“How long has he been like this?”, Eddie asked.

“He’s been in that bed for a few months. But he’s had problems before that.”

Eddie tore his eyes away from Dustin to look at Steve. “Why did it take you so long to-your father?”

“He didn’t want me to contact you. Not for anything. And Tommy only allowed it because of the conditions of my father’s will. He can’t inherit anything without an heir. If Dustin doesn’t recover then he’s going to-” Steve choked out a hiccup, suddenly overcome with what his life had become.

Eddie went over to Steve and embraced him, holding him as tight as he wished all these years. So many things missed. Birthdays, holidays, his pup’s first word, and steps, and all that came with the formative years of childhood. He was old enough that he’d be presenting in a few years. But Eddie didn’t blame Steve, he never would. The only ones to blame were the ones who held control over his life. 

“Speaking of-”

“Kindly unhand my mate, Munson.”

Steve backed away as if he were burnt and he went to Dustin’s side, avoiding Tommy’s glare. Eddie put his hands in his pockets and took in Tommy. He seemed mostly unchanged, if just puffing out his chest a bit more. He didn’t know if that came from finally attaining Steve or because the alpha above him had passed. Either way, Eddie couldn’t help himself.

“Well these tables have turned. Looks like you need my help, Hagan.”

“It’s Harrington, actually”, Tommy crossed his arms. “And I don’t need you for anything. Steve is the one still holding onto that boy. I told him that if Dustin doesn’t get better, we need another heir.”

Eddie stomped towards Tommy, about to swing when the doctor entered the room. Steve’s distress and Eddie’s irritation hung in the air. Eddie quickly pulled it back so that the doctor could explain the situation. She asked if Eddie was ready and prepared for the operation and he confirmed it. There was paperwork to be done but a tentative date was set for next week. When they finished, Steve stood, ready to take Eddie back to his motel.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”, Tommy asked, gripping Steve’s forearm tight.

“I drove him here, I need to drop him off.”

“That riff-raff can get a cab. I’m not leaving you alone around him.”

Steve scoffed and was about to protest, wrenching his arm from Tommy’s hold when Eddie cleared his throat. 

“I’ll be fine, Steve. Don’t worry about me.” He got closer to Dustin’s bedside and leaned over to kiss his forehead. He also scented him subtly, glad when he only smelled Steve’s lingering scent. “I’ll be back to visit him”, he promised before making his exit. Then he paused. “Before I head out, how’d you know where to find me? You didn’t even know I was in town yet.”

Steve swallowed. “Chrissy told me.”

Eddie smiled. Of course. He nodded towards Steve and completely ignored Tommy as he walked out. 

-----------------------

Carol was in the middle of primping when she heard the front door open.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Andy”, she called back, smiling when he entered the bathroom and kissed the back of her head.

“Did you hear? Munson came back into town and decked Jason.”

Carol prided herself in knowing everything that went down in this town. But even she never imagined that man would come back after being run out all those years ago.

“Really? Does Steve know?”

Andy shrugged, rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t know. But things are probably gonna get interesting.”

“Oh I’m sure~” Carol couldn’t wait. She applied some lipstick and turned her head from right to left before giving herself a satisfied expression in the mirror.

“Meeting your girlfriends again? It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Oh it’s barely eight. We’re not old fuddy-duddies you know. Valencia left you a plate in the fridge. Don’t wait up, us girls can gab.”

She kissed his cheek and then she was out the door. Ostensibly to go to Heather’s house for some wine and gossip. They did plenty of that but instead Carol drove herself to an inn. And waiting for her in one of the rooms was one Tommy Harrington.

“I heard that old thorn in your side is back”, Carol grinned.

“I don’t even wanna talk about that trash. The sooner this operation’s done, the sooner he’s outta my hair”, Tommy paced about, agitated while Carol poured them both drinks. She didn’t look at all bothered as she handed a glass of brandy to him.

“Well he is going through with the operation, isn’t he?”

“Yeah”, Tommy said before taking a large gulp. “It’s happening next week.”

Carol took a small sip from her own glass. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. He gets that pup in shape, you inherit everything Richard left for you and then you can kick Steve and his little bastard to the curb. It’ll be all yours.”

Tommy smirked. “All ours.”

Their glasses clinked conspiratorially. Tommy downed the rest of his own and Carol set hers down just in time for him to lift her up and toss her onto the bed. 

Part 3 coming soon

[general-cyno]

today in more zolu thoughts: yet another thing I find fascinating about zoro and luffy's relationship, which I believe the LA managed to capture pretty well despite the differences between it and the og source material, is that while zoro's capacity for loyalty and devotion where luffy's concerned are insane (the all-encompassing, heartfelt, lay down my life and dreams for you, follow you until death or the very end of everything kind of crazy), they're not entirely unconditional per se. the condition here being that he has to measure up to zoro's standards - that luffy has to prove himself a man worthy of following.

there are plenty examples of this in the manga, but I'll stick to where it and opla intersect. so manga!zoro pretty much stands firm with this condition when he agrees to follow luffy, warning him about not getting in the way of zoro's dream right away. opla zoro is a lot more reluctant to join in comparison, and he just seemingly goes along with the whole thing in a more "might as well" manner; even so, there's these few subtle moments where you can see him being struck awe by luffy's faith in himself/his dream (the dinner at kaya's) and showing exactly why he's a "different" kind of pirate (ie freeing the folks from orange town).

still, the most pivotal moment is zoro's fight with mihawk in both cases. this is where luffy has to really prove himself to zoro, for the first time. because talk of dreams and promises and not hindering them is nice and all, but can luffy really stand by what he says when push comes to shove? when the life of someone he cares about is on the line? and man. the answer is yes.

in the manga, by stopping johnny and yosaku from intervening and refusing to do so himself as well, even though he was deeply upset by zoro getting hurt, luffy proved he wouldn't go back on his word nor betray zoro's trust and the faith he had placed in him. in a similar fashion, opla luffy letting zoro go ahead with the duel despite his own apprehension/doubts and nami questioning both of their choices, is what finally led to zoro recognizing him as his captain out loud and accepting his role as a first mate.

I just think it's interesting that these two kind of make each other walk on a tightrope. only the world's greatest swordsman can stand by the pirate king's side. the pirate king can have the world's greatest swordsman by his side, if he proves himself worthy of it. but the best part? for me, it's that zoro and luffy are able to challenge one another this way (or set the bar that high) because they absolutely believe the other can rise up to it and beyond.

[sapphiresonstrings]

I think people think about LitRPGs backwards. It's not that the LitRPG formula makes bad stories palatable - it's the opposite. The LitRPG formula isn't appealing at all. The structure of a LitRPG guides writers to write stories that are legitimately better on a structural level than what they could otherwise write. LitRPG has a reputation for terrible writing because writers who are extremely bad can use the structure of LitRPG to write stories that actually work, which end up getting talked about. The same writers writing romance novels would never be talked about because they would be unreadable.

Consider Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, an all-around high quality book written by a talented author. Something that has always bothered me about Chamber of Secrets is the climax, Harry's fight against the Basilisk.

We have not been given any indication up to this point that Harry is capable of killing a Basilisk with a sword. In fact, the only skills Harry has been learning up to this point revolve around magic, which he does not use in the climax. His special ability to talk to snakes, which has been key to the plot up to this point, also does not come into play except to get him into the Chamber. Harry's emotional journey has not led him to a violent place, so his decision to kill another creature in a bloody and brutal fashion has no emotional significance to him. The Basilisk doesn't even bear Harry any ill-will, it's just attacking people because Voldemort told it to. The killing of the Basilisk is unprecedented, and would not be any more expected or meaningful if it happened at the beginning of the book than it is at the end.

I would argue that this is a problem, story-wise. The climax of a story should have something to do with the events leading up to it. The hero should use the lessons of the preceding parts of the story to overcome the challenge. This from a genuinely talented author, mind you, so my point is that this is an easy mistake to make.

It's also a really common mistake. Most action-packed climaxes in most stories are like this. Hollywood movies and genre novels love to end on some kind of violent action. It's widely understood that the end of a story is supposed to have a climax, so a lot of writers will put an action scene at the end of their story without connecting it to the rest of the plot in a thematic or emotional way.

If you make this mistake in a LitRPG, it's extremely obvious. If Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was a LitRPG, then the fact that Harry never kills anything with a melee weapon until the climax would be a glaring plot hole that could not be overlooked. Either JK would have to include a bunch of scenes in which Harry chops the heads off various other magical creatures, or she would have to reconsider how the Basilisk dies.

But now that Harry has to kill a bunch of other magical creatures with a magic sword, we're forced to consider the thematic implications of that. One way or another, Harry is now the kind of person who kills magical beasts with swords, which means the killing Basilisk is now forced by the constraints of the genre to become the conclusion of a long series of thematically related events.

The repetition inherent in a LitRPG forces the author to have recurring themes and to tie those themes into the overarching narrative whether they like it or not.

But once you have those recurring themes, once you've confronted them, you might as well convert the story into a better genre. And I say this as someone who likes LitRPGs.

This is all just scratching the surface of the ways LitRPGs force writers to write better. I just picked one example, but I could go on.

For another example, in other action-heavy fiction you will often see situations reverse themselves for no particular reason. The villain is the clear favorite to win the boxing match, presumably because he's a better boxer. But then in a surprise reversal the hero wins instead. In a good story there will be some kind of reason for this reversal (often emotional), but a bad story will just go through the beats because that's what you're supposed to do in this kind of movie. The music will swell, the hero will look up into the camera, and then the hero will win even though nothing has actually changed since we were informed that the villain was the favorite to win.

You literally cannot do this in a LitRPG. The quantification of everything means that something must change between the villain seeming to have the upper hand and the hero's ultimate victory. This doesn't automatically mean something emotionally relevant, but nobody said that all LitRPG is good. The point is that the structure of the narrative prevents you from accidentally skipping this step and papering it over with swelling dramatic music.

LitRPG where the protagonist's game system is very clearly from a game with a 20-minute day-night cycle, and whose gamification of hunger, thirst, and sleep just wreaks havoc on his personal and professional life.

Just kidding, litRPG protagonists don't have personal or professional lives.

[intomybubble]

The placement is temporary (probably) but I finally decided to put up my Hanako-kun and Haruaki poster celebrating their 100th chapters!

It’s just so cute! I really love them both (tho Haruaki is ranked higher in my heart, especially when comparing their actions in the last few arcs :/)

[theflyingfeeling]

tomorrow-me: I'd really appreciate it if you could drag your arse to the grocery store so that I won't have to get up early tomorrow morning to do it you know?

now-me, wrapped in a blanket with tears in my eyes: but I'm just a baby?? 😭

[josecariohca]

.

[patolemus]

Here’s when I come in and talk about the Deaton Secret Agenda Conspiracy (patent pending), in which Deaton manufactured Scott to become an Alpha (and just an Alpha, because all that True Alpha bullshit sounds shady as all hell) so he could control him, which is something he wouldn’t be able to do with Derek or any Hale. A strange Alpha that naturally came into their power probably wouldn’t listen to him either. But a kid? One who’s worked for him for a while now and trusts him explicitly? Oh, Deaton could do so much with this boy.

So he whispers warnings against the dangerous Derek Hale, how he’s volatile and cannot be trusted. He warns Scott about the dangers of turning people, of how that may be a sign of instability. He tells him, very casually, oh, Derek isn’t fit to lead, but do you know who’d be a great leader? Someone that cares for his friends, someone who’s strong and righteous. My, Scott, someone like you!

It’s easy to keep Stiles Stilinski’s powers dormant. He’s smart as a whip, and he’d definitely be his greatest opponent, should he find out what Deaton is up to. But the boy doesn’t believe himself to be any special, and as long as Deaton feeds that belief, he won’t be a threat to his place in Scott’s pack. Stiles can be the faithful companion, the Robin to Scott’s Batman, as the boy would say, bolstering his confidence. Deaton can be the advisor, the smartest and most useful.

Isaac Lahey and Lydia Martin would be great additions too. They’re tethered to the Hale pack in one way or another, but Lydia is distrustful of the Hales by the nature of her power’s awakening, and Isaac’s infatuation with Scott can be used the right way. Derek’s self sacrificing nature should do the trick on its own, but Deaton is prepared to sway his newest employee if need be.

Isolate him. Keep him from his Alpha, from his pack. Make him choose a side, and then drag his friends with him. Scott’s stupidly trustful self wouldn’t notice a thing. Next thing he knows, he’s a True Alpha, and the ritual Deaton found in one of his books on artificially transferring Alpha sparks between two werewolves goes flawlessly. It’s not like Kali will miss it, that with her being dead.

It all works out. Scott takes over and the Hale Alpha spark dies with Derek’s noble sacrifice to save his sister (and it is oh, so sad that Deaton couldn’t be of help with that), like it should have six years ago in the fire.

After all, it’s not like True Alphas actually exist, so any spark the Hales may bring back into the pathetic rests of their family would never be truly theirs.

(Years down the line, after a particular encounter with the Nemeton leaves behind crimson red eyes earned with sheer determination and character, it’s Stiles and Derek who have the last laugh)

(As if they hadn’t noticed what Deaton did to their pack)

So Deaton promised Derek’s mother he would look out for Derek. Considering the last one and a half seasons, I don’t think he did a very good job of it.

How about he had early on told Scott very clearly (slow and using simple words) to get over himself and form a pack with Derek.

Because he’s his boss and mentor, Scott actually might have listened to Deaton.

[bisexualmaedhros]

transfem furries hornyposting online about the relatively niche/"out there" things they're into have inadvertently helped me accept myself more than the body positivity movement of the 2010s ever did

[yellourr]

gege only gives us information about jjk’s female characters when they’re involving men

[gorgynei]

ill never forgive the ONE singular wolf study that came up with the alpha/beta/omega hierarchy for causing such terrible and irreparable damage on everything wolf related forever. i have a personal grudge against rudolph schenkel.