#Tape 5 Side B

[skayafair]

There are several themes from TSTInktober mixed up here but the main one is Flood.

Version without the text is below.

[aresthelostboy]

Yautja X Male!Scientist!Reader

[I’m using Wolf as the Yautja and this doesn’t follow the story in any way. If any facts are wrong, ignore it because I last watched the predator films at least three years ago. Can be read as GN!Reader.]

Summary: When the group of Yautja boarded your crews ship amongst the many stars of Galactica Primara, it was intended as a visit of a coming assistance. Gathered in the mess hall, partially converted for your human captain to present to the Yautja, he speaks of testing new subjects. They’re interested, so you get a visit, though you aren’t too worried. That is, until you realise just how attracted to one in particular you are…

You sigh, eyes closing for a moment as bitter disappointment sighs on you. The movements on the slide to the microscopes had slowly stopped and you find yourself reaching for the tape recorder once more. The rubber gloves squeaking against its plastic, you speak close to the microphone, an edge to your voice that follows a wasted sample.

“Test subject B57: Failed. Presumable death over the temperature and humidity. Resuming tests at 0800 hours on Friday 13, April, 2029. This is (y/n) signing out.”

You place the recorder down and, grabbing each edge of the gloves, you strip them from your skin and place them in the nearly overflowing bin beside you. Taking a few minutes to discard of the sample and disinfect everything, you look at your work station, slightly less annoyed now that it’s clean and tidy.

A loud beep sounds out, making you jump for a moment before you realise that it’s your personal communication cell that’s alerting you to an incoming message. Soon enough, the face of your second in command appears, as stern as ever. A grin tugs at your face, always tempted to rile up the easily angered man. It’s just too funny. Yet, today, he seems in brighter spirits so you wait to hear what he has to tell you.

“Ah Dr. (L/n)… finally. The message to the Yautja tribe was successful and their ship is inbound, ETA 3 minutes.”

You can’t help the genuine smile that pulls at your lips, knowing that it was a long-awaited meeting that had every higher up in floods of excitement.

“Congrats. If you need anything, you know I’ll be here. I’d rather stay out of the way and let you all deal with this,”

You gesture vaguely.

“and I’ll start a few other tests. B57 was a failure so I’ll be moving to C14 and going back to B tomorrow.”

All he does is nod before someone seems to shout him, his head snapping in the other direction before giving you a quick nod. Before you know it, the comms have been severed and you are left alone once more. Shrugging, it’s soon realised that the alien tribe must have arrived and you understand that they’re much more important than a time-wasting conversation.

Removing another pair of gloves from the packet, you put them on and ready up a new sample of an unknown organism, readying your scalpels and tweezers in order to soon pick apart the cell matter and individually study it. Placing the microphone of your recorder up to your mouth, you press at the button on the side. “Subject C14 test begins. Friday 12, April 2029. Time is currently 5:46pm.”

You don’t know how long has passed, only that the number of unseen messages from your commander on your comms has grown over the time. Only once the new source of matter has failed, as you had expected, you find yourself looking through the ignored remarks.

‘They want to look through your lab, is that alright?’ 5:59pm

‘Hello?’ 6:12pm

‘Y/n, they’re curious about the tests you do. Please?’ 6:17pm

Wincing while you read them, you deftly remove your gloves and shoot a response back hoping that, over the course of 39 minutes, you hadn’t majorly screwed up.

‘Should’ve called, was busy with tests. You can come by now if you’d like?’

Deciding to wait for the response, you don’t receive one, even after you’ve seen that he had read it. Once this is noticed, your heart rate increases, realising that speaking to your superior in such a way may not be the smartest idea. That is, until, there’s a knock at your door.

(A steel door that was only provided after you threw a fit about having dangerous subjects in an easily contaminated space. The crew didn’t care about the tests or the safety, they just wanted you to leave them alone so you finally got what you wanted.)

After checking yourself over, smoothing down your lab coat and making sure your hair wasn’t askew, your hand finds the automated doorway and it opens.

For all of your mind, the wish that you could’ve hid your reaction is high. Seeing a Yautja in a dark grey mask shouldn’t affect you in such a way, and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking what you are… The way your eyes widen slightly, not from fear but from curiosity and the way your breath catches in your throat, something they could definitely hear… it makes you flush slightly. Taking a breath, you look at your commander, nodding slightly before turning to the Yautja. Dark grey mask watches you with a tilted head and once it notices your gaze on it, his head snaps to look in the other direction.

Never had you believed an alien race to show such a predominantly human trait as embarrassment. It’s almost… cute? Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the thoughts and focus on the three in front of you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume you have translators?”

The largest one nods, it’s mask a light, titanium coloured grey and you smile slightly, hovering in the doorway. There’s one beside him, looking away and down, his posture slanted as if not wanting to be notice, this one’s mask is a darker grey. The others mask is black. These men… these creatures, surely they know basic rules of a lab. You sigh, shaking your head and addressing each one in turn.

“Please, don’t touch anything. And if your curious, ask. I’m Y/n, by the way.”

Flashing a smile at the unknown aliens seems out of place but you do so anyway, stepping back and allowing them into your space. One of them stops at the doorway, a darker grey mask on, watching you with great interest. A few clicks and trills catch your attention but, as the others don’t react, you don’t either. You watch back, curious as to who will break the eye contact first. He - would it be right to call it a he? - tilts his head slightly before stepping into the lab, following the others. It takes you a moment to notice your commander left but, oddly enough, you felt safe with the Yautja group. A few sharp clicks grab your attention and you turn to the light grey masked one, wondering about it’s attention grabbing sounds.

“This?”

A raspy and distorted voice comes from the mask, the creature pointing at one of your experiments. You can’t help the appreciation that paints your face as you step over, closer than most humans would feel comfortable, and begin explaining the intricacies. Throughout your speech, you feel eyes on you and, as you are seeing two of them looking at your experiments, there’s only one left to be doing so. Without breaking sentence, you turn to look at him and grin as you see him whip his head away in a tense, feigned interest in a sheet of paper… a blank sheet of paper. A slight laugh escapes you, only for him to look back, shoulders visibly dropping into relaxation. A quick smile is flashed his way and, believing you could trust the Yautja, you turn your back to continue your explanation.

You’d barely finished explaining what each component did, the two Yautja painfully invested in your words, when a quiet screech echoes through the metal room. The three of you turn to the last of their group, a hand in front of their greyed mask and a light green blood like substance sliding from their finger. Your frown, walking over quickly and finding he had touched one of the alien blades you had been studying earlier. “Are you alright?”

You can’t disguise the concern in your voice as you walk over, hesitating to touch him. Though, when he doesn’t pull away, you gently take his hand and inspect the wound. Hearing a few clicks and trills no longer bothers you, understanding it’s the same as humans humming or making basic noise. You look up at him, noticing that he hadn’t followed your one rule and has touched something. Shaking your head, the Yautja stills, watching you with interest.

“Silly Yautja.”

Though the words are said with amusement, there’s an underlying tone of worry and care. It makes the yautjas stare and stand as if petrified by Medusa herself. You continue to mutter to yourself, finding a bandage and wrapping up the bleeding cut. He tilts his head as you do so and when your ministration have been completed, he flexes his hand, only to look at you with a deep interest.

“Wolf.”

The deep growl comes from the one in front of you and you can easily tell what he had said. Though in the context it confused you.

“Sorry?”

It gestures to itself, repeating the word. After a moment you nod, smiling softly.

“Wolf? That’s your name?”

He nods, hesitating for a mere moment before tapping his bandage then on your chest, where your heart should be. It was easy enough to guess what he had meant, knowing that the courtesy of thanks had been passed throughout the galaxy. Smiling at him, you nod, tapping your own chest then his in turn. This seems to make him rumble quietly, an appreciative sound that vibrates through your bones as you touch his skin gently.

A quiet hum comes from behind and you jump, realising that you had enacted such an intimate (to their species, at least) moment in front of his clan mates. A light flush takes over your face as you pull away but Wolf lightly places his hands over yours, keeping you skin to skin with him. You bow your head slightly, aware that in may alien species, it was a sign of respect. It seems to be accurate as he gives another quiet rumble.

You find yourself wanting to hear that more and you stop yourself in your tracks. How could you fall for an alien race? It just wasn’t normal and shouldn’t happen… but he is cute. And you just know that behind the mask, he’ll still be better than the humans on this ship.

“Y/n.”

At the direct address, your head snaps up and you pull away from Wolf, much to the Yautjas displeasure. Your captain stands in the doorway, a slightly confused expression present yet he seems to shrug it off quickly.

“Whatever. The others say it’s time to leave and they are gathering in the common. So say goodbye to your… acquaintances.”

He watches you for a moment more and walks off, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. Turning away, you look back to the three Yautja and smile.

“I’ll walk you back?”

All eyes are on Wolf as he nods and clicks quietly, head tilted. The other two lead ahead and you walk with him, watching as he barely makes a sound, the hunter genes shining through. It interests you and, as your gaze becomes more focused, his body becomes more tense.

“You’re beautiful.”

You speak as if reading off facts from a list, stating it in such an obvious way that his mind stutterers for a second, causing his head to snap to your gaze in such a way that you don’t need to see him to wonder what he’s thinking.

“I mean, I love your mask and I can’t help but wonder what’s behind it. I bet you look cool. And your skin is gorgeous, like a snake, not to mention these claws!”

Your hand is in his, bringing them both up so you can trace a gentle finger across each of his sharp talons. He doesn’t pull away, relishing in the contact of such soft, warm skin and in such an innocently romantic way. Your eyes meet the ones of his mask and they shine, a bright smile filling your face.

“I hope we can communicate soon. Perhaps you all wish to come back and look around some more?”

The two of you are stood in the lobby, the other Yautja waiting by the ships entrance for him with a few warning growls and clicks following. Wolf nods, tapping his heart with his free hand and then tapping over yours. Though you don’t speak in such a language, you understand the meaning well enough, given the context. As you,let go of him, a sad smile paints your face.

“I hope you all return safely. We will welcome you back soon. Goodbye.”

The doors shut and you hold onto the fact he looked at you till the very last moment, you hold it with all your heart.

When you get back to your lab, you begin to tidy away the papers and left over rubbish that you had forgotten to put away only for something to catch your eye. Something that hadn’t been there before. Something as a… gift?

A pristine, off-white skull of a seemingly alien creature had been positioned carefully on the side of your desk and you find yourself smiling as you realise that was where Wolf had been stood. Though you had never been in contact with the race before, the message of such a gift was clear enough and you find yourself awaiting the next visit.

As for the skull, you place it on your emptied ledge over your desk. After all, there had to be plenty of space for the rest of the courting gifts, right?

[asidian]

Set breakdown time! Next up: Niko's room.

As before, I've circled the points of interest and numbered them to make them easier to talk about. Cool? Cool. Let's do this!

1: Niko's mom's name! This part is her and Niko's surname. The kanji are 佐々木.

佐 – sa, meaning help or aid

々 – an iteration mark. When you see this, basically it means "exactly what the last one said, one more time." So another sa meaning help or aid

木 – ki, meaning tree

It's really neat that they picked a last name for her that doubles down on her role in the narrative. Just like Niko is there to support and help other characters in whatever way they seem to need, her surname hammers it home by including 佐 not once but twice.

2: Riza (リザ) Niko's mother's given name. Somewhat odd here is that it's written in katakana and not kanji. Without getting sidetracked too much (you can pop over here to read more if you're interested) most Japanese people write their names in kanji.

Katakana seems like a bit of a strange choice here, unless a) Niko for some reason doesn't know the kanji for her own mother's name (weird, given that she's in high school) b) her mother is a foreigner (a possibility; foreigners usually write their names in katakana) c) the set designer/whoever prepped the letters didn't know the appropriate kanji for "Riza" (seems unlikely, given how accurate all the rest of this is) or d) some sort of personal habit. An interesting side note is that her letter to Niko also puts Niko's name in katakana.

3: Cutesy stationery, used for marking your place in a document or book

4: A cute blue purse!

5: Watermelon! Judging by the shiny material and placement near the other bag, I'm going to guess this is another purse

6: Niko's clothes :>

7: Pink luggage

8: Lots of instant noodles

9: A rice cooker

10: Rice vinegar

11: This girl LOVES her some plants

12: Probably food items…? The one on the right looks like it might be a five-pound bag of rice, but I don't recognize the brand

13: Lots of unwashed dishes

14: A toaster oven

15: Chopsticks

16: A cute octopus pillow. I think I saw someone mention that it's from Ikea :>

17: She often leaves dirty dishes sitting on the bedside table

18: A painting of what seems to be a skyscape

19: Brightly colored pillows

20: Metal art in the shape of a moon

21: A decorative window hanging

22: More plants :)

23: Candles

24: Her tv

25: Cute pens with pompoms on the end

26: Regular tape

27: A cute cat statue

28: Marble Pop Ramune, strawberry flavor. Ramune is a type of soda that's a popular festival drink in Japan. It's sealed with a  glass marble and you have to pop the marble down into the little catch basin before you can drink it.

29: Anime wall décor

30: Fruit jelly cups. In Japan, small gelatin based snacks like this are popular. They're tiny, about an inch tall, and you eat them in just one or two bites.

31: Niko's laptop. She has stickers on it

32: Washi tape! It's decorative Japanese tape, often with bright colors and patterns, used for crafting.

33: A lot of cute magnets, including the bunny one, which serves double-duty as a kitchen timer

34: Niko's grocery list. The only thing on here that's here because she wants it is strawberry ice cream. The rest of the items, licorice tea, manuka honey, and Epsom salts, are all natural remedies. She's been trouble-shooting how to get rid of the effects of the sprites. She knows she's sick, but not why

35: Cutesy craft supplies! Sequins, glitter, and pompoms

36: More washi tape!

37: Niko's manga collection. She is that particular brand of organizational mess that does not put her numbered volumes in order. She has made an exception for the series that makes a complete picture when you line them up, though

38: More plants :)

39: Manga posters! Issho is one of the series that she has on her shelf

40: A decorative jar

41: Little metal bird sculptures

42: What seems to be the only framed picture in her room. The angle is wrong to see what the photo is, but it's interesting that they added just one in here. Maybe it's her family…?

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! light smut, language, Soldier boy being too rough

Word Count: 1121

A/N: This is part 2 of "His only exeption".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As quickly as Ben smashed his lips into yours, you couldn’t even understand what was happening. Your whole body was covered in goosebumps that Ben caused as he pressed you against the cool wall behind you. Unwitting, he tightened his grip on your upper arms until it hurt.

Before you could even return the kiss, you pressed your palms against his chest as hard as you could, trying to push Ben away from you. At the same time, you turned your head to the side, which surprised Ben enough to pull his head back.

“The fuck, Ben! What’s wrong with you!”, you breathed, shocked and slightly disappointed. Ben, on the other hand, just furrowed his brows and looked at you, the corners of his mouth not even twitching. His expression was colder than ever. Without another word, he turned away from you and headed towards his room.

"I'm talking to you!", you said a little louder as you caught up with him and slapped his broad back from behind. Not particularly hard, although you could never hurt him anyway. At least physically.

“Leave me the fuck alone!”, he slapped your arm away, at the level of your wrist, way too roughly, which ended with an audible crack. A short, pained scream escapes your mouth, apparently loud enough to wake up Butcher and Frenchie.

“Fuck (y/n)! I... didn't mean-", Ben started, but his voice broke when Butcher and Frenchie came out of their rooms and saw you and Ben facing each other in the hallway. Butcher was just as dumbfounded as you. His gaze fell on your wrist, which you were clutching with your free hand, your eyes already glazed over with pain.

“Oi! What the fuck is going on?!”, Butcher grumbled with his arms crossed, looking from you to Ben as Frenchie walked towards you. “Nothing”, you whispered as Ben tried to open his bedroom door, but Butcher grabbed his forearm.

"You don't fucking want that Buddy!", Ben growled threateningly, his head turned to the side just enough to maintain eye contact with Butcher. He ripped his arm out of Butcher's grasp and looked at you one more time before disappearing into his room with a loud slam of the door. It was a miracle the door wasn't broken.

Butcher, driven by the fact that he was now permanently a supe, was about to drag Ben out of his room, but your voice stopped him.

“Leave him alone! Please”, you murmured, almost pleading.

Meanwhile, Frenchie examined your wrist and led you to the couch where you sat down. He quickly found a pressure bandage and wrapped it around your wrist as carefully as possible while you couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

“Now, can you tell me why Soldier Boy is pissed like hell and your hand looks like you taped it upside down?!”. Butcher was anything but rays of sunshine. He never was, but even less right now. However, you couldn't blame him. It was the middle of the night and the scene he found wasn't exactly promising.

Even though Ben had behaved quite peacefully, aside from his orgy escapades, Butcher still didn't trust him. However, he had gotten used to you by now. You could almost say he liked you.

 "It's not a big deal. It was an accident", you murmur, looking back at your wrist. "I... provoked him". Your acting must have been pretty good because Butcher obviously didn't question your statement.

“And why are you doing such bullshit? You know him and his fucking temper! Fuck. This guy is a fucking ticking nuke...literally!", he raised his eyebrows at the end of his sentence, as if he was slightly impressed by his pun.

“I know, I know”, you mumbled.

“All done, mon Coeur,” Frenchie said quietly before getting up and disappearing into his room without a word.

 “Butcher, look, he-”.

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence. Instead, he waved at you and muttered some words under his breath. “Just stay away from him. You’re doing yourself a favor, believe me”. Butcher’s gaze traveled from your face, down your body, back to your wrist. His furrowed eyebrows showed he was deep in thought. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then stopped. Without saying another word, he walked barefoot back into his room and rubbed his hand on the back of his head, slightly overwhelmed.

With a deep sigh, you sank back onto the sofa and closed your eyes. Your head hurt more than your wrist as your left hand slowly moved to your mouth.

Lost in thought, your index and middle fingers slid over your lips as you reminisced about the kiss with Ben. Those little thoughts alone were enough to make your heart stumble. It felt like a hot ball was traveling from your heart through your stomach straight between your legs.

You couldn't imagine that one kiss was enough to make you see Ben completely differently. You could still taste his lips, whiskey mixed with weed and mint. What would have happened if you hadn't broken the kiss? How far would Ben have gone? How far would you have gone? Your thoughts slowly but surely drifted away. You looked around. The living room was still dimly lit. Everyone was back in their rooms and you were alone. While your injured wrist rested on the armrest, your other hand automatically slipped into your shorts.

“Oh hell no! Don't fucking do this to me! Not now!”, Soldier Boy growled almost desperately as he heard your rapid heartbeat and breathing, while he lay on his bed. It wasn't the first time he had listened to you getting yourself off. And well, you're definitely helped him quite a lot without even knowing it. You always tried to suppress your moans and make your movements slow and quiet, but Ben was always so focused on you that his ears would immediately perk up when you gave yourself a hand.

At first, he was a little surprised that he couldn't stop focusing on it, but after a few weeks he was really enjoying it.

At the moment, however, it was pure torture. His emotions were already overwhelming him, so there was no way he needed to be any hornier than he already was. Especially after he had just hurt you in more ways than one.

However, his cock clearly had more to decide than his head or his heart.

Meanwhile, you couldn't stop yourself. As you pumped two fingers inside you, your thoughts were on Ben. You imagined feeling his lips on yours again, his rough hands on your hips. You imagined what it would feel like if your fingers were his. Or something else.  

_

Part 3

-

Taglist: @deangirl96

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions | jjk - series masterlist

title credit: bad decisions - bts

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

genre / tropes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they're just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds) - see read more for warnings & authors note

wordcount: 450k babbbbyyyy (on-going)

soundtrack: official | reader suggestions

start date: 2022.08.06

minors dni // originally posted to wattpad

warnings: reader has a fear of emotional intimacy and uses physical intimacy as a substitute, jungkook has a deep-rooted fear of rejection. lots of drinking, lots of cursing, lots of bad decisions (every chapter includes at least (1)), jk and the oc have different styles of communication (woo miscommunication!!), a lot of past relationship trauma on both sides, jungkook is the sweetest angel baby ever, jin is kinda evil, jimin is a shit shag (and you have to experience it not once but twice!)

smut warnings: oc is a lil bratty, both switchy but jaykay definitely leads <3, fingering, oral (m & f), ass play, a looooot of titty sucking, cock warming, vaginal sex, sex toys (m & f), every position ever created, jaykay has a huge cawk <3, filming, lots of showering together, thigh riding, 69, squirting, panty sniffing (and sucking !), mutual masturbation, motel sex, endless orgasms, like, idek what else to add but there's more!! they just fuck a lot!! not my fault!! blame the birds!!

note from holly: i heard bad decisions once, ONCE, and knew i had to write about whiney jaykay and how fucking him would be a bad decision, but then it spiralled and now im 370k words deep into a fic about origami birds, glitter, and the way jungkook thinks he'll die every time he gets horny. of everything I've ever written it's hands down my favourite set of characters. jungkook is good in a way that he isn't in literally any of my other fics. i think it's my most well-received fic over on wp and it's just v v special to me. i hope u enjoy it!

BAD DECISIONS

key: smut ��� | holly's fave ✨ | reader fave* 🪩 | bird 🕊 | club 🍇 *as per my wp stats all chapters listed below are available on wp, and will eventually be linked here too.

BD #1 - Purple Starfuckers - 3.5k

🍇 | a disco ball walks into a bar...

BD #2 - Park Jimin - 3.2k

💖 | does it count if you don't finish?

BD #3 - Coffee - 2k

message request from justjk

BD #4 - The Gym - 4.1K

just wanted an excuse to write about gym rat jk tbh

BD #5 - The Bet - 6.6k

🍇🪩 | songs that remind you of the past, blissfully unaware you're laying the foundations of your future

BD #6 - Wishing - 6k

🍇| summer goes by in a technicolour haze

BD #7 - Sex With An Ex - 6k

✨| kim seokjin looks like an angel, loves like lucifer

BD #8 - Washi Tape - 8k

enter stage left: origami birds

BD #9 - White - 6k

✨🕊 | old, leering men at waterparks are gross. jungkook is not.

BD #10 - Blonde - 3.5k

in the wise words of maisie peters, there's nothing more frightening than a woman scorned and a box of bleach

BD #11 - Perry - 5.9k

🕊 | it's totally normal to shower with your friends

BD #12 - An Agreement -7.4k

💖🕊 | jungkook has to leave the room cause he gets way too hard (in a platonic way)

BD #13 - Work of Art - 11.8k

💖 🪩🕊 | you discover mirrors. jungkook discovers tits. learning is fun!

BD #14 - New Rules - 8k

💖 🪩🕊 | jungkook's got nice hands and he knows how to use them

TO BE UPLOADED

BD #15 - Paper Planes

BD #16 - Overindulging

BD #17 - Jeon Jungkook

BD #18 - Cake

BD #19 - Send To All

BD #20 - Park Jimin... Again

BD #21 - Doing The 'Right' Thing

BD #22 - Listening To Jimin

BD #23 - Cherry Picking

BD #24 - Resolutions

BD #25 - January

BD #26 - January, Still

BD #27 - Keeping Quiet

BD #28 - Avoidance

BD #29 - 'Daddy'

BD #30 - Evaluating The Meaning of 'Home'

BD #31 - The Photo Booth

BD #32 - Question...?

BD #33 - Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

BD #34 - Speed Dating

BD #35 - Saying 'Please'

BD #36 - Denial

BD #37 - Faking It

BD #38 - Delaying The Inevitable

BD #39 - Rooms

BD #40 - Spinning Bottles

BD #41 - Locked Doors

BD #42 - Hitting Where It Hurts

Wattpad | AO3

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 5

Prompt: Bandages

Words: 1300

TW: Mentions of Dysphoria and Unsafe Chest Binding(sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

I had to do so much research on chest binding and uk laws about transitioning for this.

Apologies if I misrepresented anything as I am both Canadian and cis gender, so I've no experiences to pull from, other that I've been told by my trans friend and research.

Enjoy!

Soap rifled frantically through their medkit, barely withholding the urge to just turn it upside down and dump everything out onto the ground, “We donnae 'ave any tape, how in the pishin’ shite do we 'ave no tape,” he muttered mutinously as he dug through the kit. He picked up and put back everything again, as if the medical tape would just pop out of the bag's lining to answer his prayers. It didn't. With a sigh he admitted defeat.

Onto plan B. 

Scrambling back over, he tapped at Ghost’s leg to warn him that he was near, they didn't need to be dealing with a second stab wound because he startled his L.T.

“Hey, L.T, I have good news and I have bad news.” Soap climbed onto Ghost’s lap, smiling at the unimpressed look Ghost shot him without cracking his eyes open more than a centimeter. Soap started ripping into the packages he’d carried over with him, first wiping down his hands then opening up the medical supplies he needed, careful to not let them touch anything and become non-sterile. 

“The good news is that we’ve quick clot-”

“That’s not the bad news?” Ghost groaned, closing his eyes again.

“Nae,” A flash of a smile flitted across Soap’s face at Ghost’s teasing, “the bad news is there’s no tape.”

A louder groan rolled out of Ghost’s despairing chest, accompanied by a new wave of blood streaming out from under Ghost’s hands. Soap nudged at where Ghost was applying hard pressure to the stab wound on his side.

“You’re going to lift up for a mo, I'll pack it, then you need to reapply pressure,” Soap dictated, shooting a glance up at Ghost’s face. Ghost nodded at him, those brown eyes hazed and tight with pain, but filled with so much trust. Soap swallowed hard, looking back at the wound.

“Okay, on three. One. Two. Three!” Soap barely waited for Ghost’s hands to clear his skin before he started packing gauze into the gore soaked hole. 

Ghost grit his teeth, back bowing, feet kicking at the floor as he tried to find an outlet for the rapid increase of pain. The hurt from the stab wound had almost fallen into a manageable throb, but the quick clot had punched it back up to a fever pitch. Soap slapped another thick square of gauze over the opening then pulled back, watching Ghost obediently reclamp his hands over his wound, despite how the renewed pressure only stoked the firestorm of pain flaring under his skin. 

Soap let the other man rest for a moment, remnants of the quick clot stinging in the cuts on his hands, then pulled at Ghost’s shoulder, “Need you to sit up for me, need to reach around your back.”

Soap helped Ghost up into a slumped sit, petting over his nape when he dropped his head forward onto Soap’s shoulder. The flexing of his core to get up must have sent his injury screaming. 

Soap felt oddly gratified to see Ghost look like he was in pain. Not because Soap liked seeing him hurt, but because Soap had seen him walk off broken limbs before. Ghost letting himself show that he was hurting meant that he knew Soap wouldn’t kick him while he’s down. That he trusted Soap.

He pressed a kiss against the top of Ghost’s head, willfully ignoring how rank the man's balaclava had become, then urged him up off his shoulder so that Soap could see the wound again. Finding the end of the bandage roll, Soap tapped at Ghost’s hands to get him to lift off again then started wrapping the bandages around Ghost's chest to keep the gauze in place. 

“This brings back memories,” Ghost rumbled as Soap got to the end of the roll and fastened it in place.

“Aye? Get in a lot of scapes as a wee lad, did ye?” Soap teased, tugging a bit at his wrapping job to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. 

“No, before I learned about K.T tape, I used to bind with bandages.” Ghost answered, sagging forward to press the top of his head against Soap’s chest.

“Bu’ isnae that terrible?" Soap asked while bringing a hand up to squeeze at Ghost’s nape the way he likes, his voice steeped in concern, “ah’ve never binded a day in mah life, bu’ ah’ve heard that's nae guid,”

“Yeah,” Ghost sighed, a hidden smile pulling at his cheeks for the return of Johnny’s accent, “Most bandages are made for stabilising sprains and stuff like that, so they're designed to constrict with movement. That means that if you wrap them around your chest they tighten incrementally every time you exhale. I wore them for as long as I could, until my ribs burned and my skin was bloody with rashes.” 

Ghost’s voice was a strange monotonous plea, like he was imploring Johnny on behalf of someone he didn’t care for. He hadn’t moved, still wilted against Johnny’s chest, his hands limply resting on Johnny’s hips. 

“I used to wrap them too tight. I wanted my chest to be flat, like a boy's chest. I got pneumonia 'cause I’d restricted my breathing so much that fluid built up in my lungs. Mom took me to the doctor, they said I may have been experiencing Gender Incongruence.” Ghost’s voice took on a sardonic mocking edge, “She offered to refer us to N.H.S Children and Young People's Gender Services for psychological treatment, and assured Mom that ‘most cases of gender variant behaviour disappear when a child reaches puberty’. The N.H.S doesn’t give kids puberty blockers, apparently there's not enough clinical evidence that they’re an effective treatment. But if you jump through all their hoops and play it just right to get diagnosed with gender dysphoria, by sixteen you may be a candidate for gender-affirming hormone treatments.” 

Ghost took a deep breath, bringing his head up to burrow into the side of Johnny’s neck, pressing their chests together, needing to feel him closer.

“I don’t know how she did it-” Ghost broke off, swallowing hard, “I wasn’t getting better, my chest had started growing in when I was thirteen. I wouldn’t have made it three years, but there was no chance that my house could field the four physiatrists and the social worker that were required to green light treatment.” 

There was a long moment of quiet. Ghost’s breaths shakily puffed across Johnny’s collarbones.

“I don't know how she did it,” Simon whispered gently into the silence, “Mom just woke me up one day and pressed a bottle with the label pulled off into my hands. She said to never let Dad find it and to tell her when they ran out.” 

If Simon’s next inhale sounded wet, Johnny would never tell. 

“Ordering puberty blockers yourself isn’t illegal, only ‘highly discouraged’.” The hands on Johnny’s hips tightened and Ghost took a few deep breaths, flinching a bit when the forgotten pain in his side made itself known. “Every doctor's visit I had from then on I mentioned that I wasn’t a girl, and by sixteen I had my diagnoses and got started on T. I scrimped and saved everything I could, determined that when I turned eighteen I would get top surgery, but I didn’t have enough. Of course I didn’t have enough, it’s nine thousand pounds. Mom, she-”

The laugh that broke from Ghost was coloured by pure disbelief. Leaning back he met Johnny’s eyes and saw that he was crying. 

“She’d been saving as well. She found me crying in the kitchen at three A.M and told me she didn’t have enough just then, but promised we’d get it fixed before I turned twenty.” A cheek crinkling smile pushed the first of Ghost’s tears free, “and we did.” 

“Ah would have loved tae meet y’ur Ma, Simon,” Johnny whispered, cupping Simon’s face in his hands.

“She’d have loved you,” Simon whispered in turn.

Ghost let himself cry, breaking apart in Johnny’s arms, safe in knowing that he’d hold his pieces gently. 

Thank You For Reading!

They're on a mission and are in a safehouse for this entire scene if anyone was wondering.

Did I almost make myself cry writing this? Maybe.

I just really love my mom, okay?

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[illicitlimerence-writes]

teddy bears & blankets | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x leclerc!reader

word count: 2.3k words

request: yes, by anon: “hear me out…single mum who’s a leclerc and max👀”

prompt: character a can’t wrap gifts to save their life. character b is their neighbor and can help. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: a baby, fluffy max, a sick baby:( language maybe, kinda angsty in the middle.

a/n: day 5! i really didn’t plan to write three kid fics in a row, but oh well. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

he sighed, tossing yet another piece of wrapping paper aside. max was talented in many different things, but wrapping gifts just wasn’t one of them. he was already stressed enough having to buy a gift for a christmas party he had forgotten about, spending almost two hours in line at a store, and now he had no idea how to wrap this box. 

when he was sure that the paper was large enough to cover it completely, once he started placing the adhesive tape either one side was larger than the other or he placed it in a way that just didn’t work. he decided to just give up and place a bow on top. 

he put on his coat, with the gift in one hand and keys in the other. he stepped out and closed the door, and was about to place the key in the keyhole when he heard the sound of the elevator arrive at his floor. he turned his head, seeing his neighbor and her daughter.

“hi, max,” she said, waving her free hand at him, the other one was holding her sleeping child. “i thought you’d be at charles’ by now,” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s where i’m heading, i just… i couldn’t figure out how to wrap this,” he held up the gift, “but i gave up,” he chuckled, watching her shift her weight from one leg to the other, “let me help you,�� he said, opening his arms to grab the child. 

when max found out a few months ago that his new next-door neighbor had a one-year-old baby he feared the worst. he was used to the peace and quiet of having a floor all to himself, and a baby would undoubtedly break that silence he cherished so much. but that wasn’t the case with (y/n) and alison leclerc. 

alison was probably the best, well-behaved child max had ever met, he was used to his nephews, rowdy and a little bratty if he was being honest, but alison was soft, gentle, not too noisy and always staring up at him with eyes that looked just like charles’.

“she’ll wake up, can you get the door, please?” she asked, handing him the keys. he nodded and opened the door for her. “thank you,” she turned on the lights, “make yourself at home, i’ll put this little one to bed and i’ll help you with that,” she smiled at him.

“oh, no, you don’t have to- i-”

“my brother has been working all day for this dinner to be perfect, he won’t let you in if you show up with an unwrapped gift.” she raised an eyebrow, “he’s been freaking out all day, so, for the sake of charles’ health, let me wrap that gift for you,” she used her mom voice, giving him one last look before walking to ali’s room.

“yes, ma’am,” max said, running to his place to grab the leftover wrapping paper. he returned just as she was walking back, still with alison in her arms, but this time the baby was awake. “what happened?” he asked, a smile on his face as he looked at the baby, with sleep evident in her eyes, her cheeks an intense shade of pink. 

“it’s like a curse,” she sighed, “right when i was placing her head on the pillow she woke up,” she placed ali on the counter, the baby immediately turning to crawl away, “nope, ali-”

“i’ll play with her, if that’s okay,” max offered. “a favor for a favor,” he said, walking to the little girl.

“what do you say ali? want to play with max?” she asked the girl, who had made her way to the fruit bowl and was playing with a small clementine. 

“mash,” ali said, trying to say max. he smiled.

max entertained the baby, letting her pick whatever she wanted to play with. she kept coming back to the small clementine, and as the girl’s mother was cutting the right amount of paper, ali handed him the clementine.

“you want me to eat it?” he asked, grabbing the fruit and lifting it up to his lips.

alison laughed, squealing and clapping her hands. 

“thank you, ali, that’s the best fruit i’ve ever had!” max opened his hand, lifting it in front of ali’s face. “high five,” he said, grabbing ali’s hand and clapping it against his own. ali laughed, doing it again and again, each time harder than the last. “ow,” he said, shaking his hand after one particularly hard clap. 

“ali, gentle,” her mother reminded her. max turned to the older leclerc girl, seeing her already done with the gift. “here you go, you’re free to leave now,” max inspected the gift, she’d even managed to make a bow out of the same paper.

“how did you do that?” he asked, staring at her in awe. she only shrugged.

“i’m multitalented,”

“can i come to you every time i need a gift wrapped?”

“yeah! we love having guests, don’t we, ali?” she asked, the girl had leaned against max’s torso, he was leaning against the edge of the counter, where ali was sitting to make sure she didn’t fall or crawl away. 

“i think she’s falling asleep.” he said, pressing a hand to the back of her head to support her.

“thank god,” she sighed, “i thought it was going to be another sleepless night.”

“she’s got issues sleeping at night?”

“lately, yeah.”

“i’ve never heard her,” max said, the leclercs apartment was always so quiet it almost felt like no one lived there.

“she’s not a crier. she just stares around,” 

“well…” he said, doubting for a second if he really wanted to say it, but he decided to do it, “feel free to stop by if you need anything. i mean it, whether it’s to entertain ali or… if you need company.”

he knew that parenting was already hard with both parents around, and he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was being a single parent. and he liked her, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together in a way, with her always tagging along to charles’ races and events. 

“thank you,” she said, walking closer to them, “and the same goes to you, mi casa es tu casa.” she smiled at him.

alison moved her head, extending her arms

“mama,” she yawned. 

“i think i’ll leave, she needs all the rest she can get,”

“yeah,” she nodded. “have a nice night, max.”

“thank you, you too.”

-

it was two weeks later, and again, max was struggling to decide whether he really should ask (y/n) for help. throughout those two weeks theyy had managed to run into each other more than the entire time they'd been neighbors. max would always pay a little extra attention to them, whether it was helping her with whatever she was carrying, opening the door for her, or holding alison in his arms. 

he could say that they were starting to become close friends, and after two weeks he found himself looking forward to seek her help.

he was standing in front of his mirror brushing his hair to make sure it was in place. he looked down to his bottles of cologne, and he grabbed one, how finger ready to apply it, but thought about alison, if the girl was to get close to him the chemicals from the fragrance could irritate her. 

he walked out of his room, with the roll of wrapping paper and the gift under his arm, something inside of him moved at the thought of seeing them again. 

he lifted his fist to knock on the door, waiting for the usual stomping of little feet or her soft voice. he waited a few seconds before knocking again. 

he heard soft whimpers getting louder, and soft shushing as the door opened. his face fell as he saw the state of both girls.

“what happened?” he asked immediately, seeing them both in their pjs, with alison crying soundlessly and her mother looking like she was on the verge of tears as well.

“i’m sorry, max, i- i can’t help you right now i-”

“no, no, forget about this, what’s wrong?” he asked, and right as he finished talking alison started coughing.

“she’s sick, and she can’t sleep and… god, i feel so… powerless,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down the baby’s back, “i wish i could make her feel okay but-” she shook her head, rubbing a hand down her face as tears started falling from her eyes.

“hey, it’s alright,” max whispered, walking in and wrapping his arm around her, “have you called her doctor?”

“yeah, he already prescribed the medicine, but… i don’t know what to do now, she keeps coughing and waking herself up.”

“mash,” they both looked at alison, watching her extend her arms towards him.

“no, baby, you’ll get max sick-” she explained, taking her arms down, but the baby insisted.

“it’s alright, i… i can hold her, i don’t mind.”

“but you’ll-”

“if it helps her, and you, i would love to hold her.” max said, watching ali lean herself forward. max dropped his stuff on the floor and held her. he placed the back of his hand against her forehead, “i think she’s got a fever.”

“yeah, the medicine should help with that.” she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “god, i’m a mess. let me get your things so you-”

“no, forget about that. i’m staying.”

“what? max you don’t have-”

“i want to. i won’t be able to focus on anything all night knowing you’re both like this.” right then alison started coughing again, and max rubbed her back gently, whispering softly in her ear, “there you go, get it all out. want to look at the city?” he asked, walking to the window overlooking the harbor, “look at the boats and the lights, ali…” he said, the girl leaning her head on his shoulder and yawning. “she’s sleepy,” he told her mom.

“yeah, she hasn’t slept all day. only for a few minutes before having a coughing fit every time.” she explained.

“have you called your mom? or brothers?” he asked, knowing that they would all most likely be there to help them both if they knew.

“they’re all gone. on holiday. we were supposed to join them but… well, look at us.”

“well, you’re not alone anymore. i’m here,” he walked to her, wrapping his free arm around her, careful with the baby between them. 

“you- really don’t have to do this, you had plans and-”

“and i can see them tomorrow or next week, that’s the least of my problems right now. right now you both should get some sleep. this little one is already falling asleep.”

“i just hope she can rest more than fifteen minutes at a time,” 

“you want me to lay her down or-”

“yeah, come,” she said, walking down a hallway and opening the door to ali’s bedroom. everything was decorated in neutral warm colors and was very clean.

“i think this is the tidiest baby room i’ve seen,” max said, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“you should see my room. we’ve been sleeping there since she got sick, and it’s not pretty.”

“i’m sure it’s better than my room even when i’ve just cleaned it.”

she chuckled, preparing ali’s crib.

after placing her on the bed and waiting for her to fall asleep, they both stayed in her room, with max on the floor next to the crib, ready to act in case she started coughing or woke up. they stayed there for about twenty minutes, in silence, staring at alison longingly. 

max had grown attached to both of them, and the feeling he got when he first saw them that night was something he’d never felt before. he’d felt the back of his neck tingling, his heart seemed to sink down to his stomach. 

“i think this is it,”

“yeah?” max asked.

“yeah. she’s not even moving around, she used to squirm around, trying to get comfortable but now she’s… i think she’s finally gonna get some sleep,”

“and you should get some, too,” max said, eyes widening at what he had said, “sleep, i mean- i”

“i know what you meant,” she chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand to muffe her laugh. “i think i’ll just stay here for the night. i want to be here in case she wakes up.”

“well, we should get comfortable, then.” max said, leaning to grab a big stuffed bear and placed it beneath his head as a pillow.

“you’re not staying here, max. you really don’t have to.”

“of course i am. someone’s got to look out for you. and i know you’re both totally fine on your own normally, but these are not normal conditions. you need a little help, and i’m more than happy to be here.”

she smiled, a soft, sleepy smile that made max’s heart beat faster. she pulled out some blankets from the bottom drawer of ali’s wardrobe. scooting over next to max.

“you’ve got the pillow, i’ve got the blankets.” she said.

“i don’t know about you, but that sounds perfect.” 

“a sleeping, sick kid, a mom in the middle of an emotional breakdown, a teddy bear and blankets?”

“yeah.” he nodded, sounding absolutely serious about his posture.

“you’ve clearly not spend enough time in this house.” she joked, sliding down and wrapping the blanket around herself, getting ready to sleep, finally.

“well, i would love to do that. you know, to… get a gist of things around here.” he said, unaware of the smile on her face, since she’d turned her back to him.

“we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“that sounds perfect. good night.” he leaned down, giving alison one last look, making sure that she was still asleep before closing his eyes to sleep.

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Skylab Rescue Mission (SL-R)

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-3

Spacecraft: CSM-119

Launch Vehicle: Saturn IB AS-208, later AS-209

Commander: Vance D. Brand

Command Module Pilot: Don L. Lind

Intended launch date: September 1973, (on standby from August 1973 - February 1974)

Skylab rescue mission crewmen Vance Brand (left) and Don Lind.

"Influenced by the stranded Skylab crew portrayed in the book and movie 'Marooned', NASA provided a crew rescue capability for the only time in its history." Prepared for launch during Skylab 3."

"Skylab rescue vehicle phasing - NAR Space Division drawing illustrates phasing of 5-seater Skylab rescue vehicle for a Skylab mission."

Date: April 5, 1971

"A kit was developed to fit out an Apollo command module with a total of five crew couches. In the event a Skylab crew developed trouble with its Apollo CSM return craft, a rescue CSM would be prepared and launched to rendezvous with the station. It would dock with the spare second side docking port of the Skylab docking module."

- information from Astronautix.com: link

"The Apollo Command Module as modified to rescue stranded crews for the Skylab program. Two crew + three rescuees packed like sardines...."

"Skylab 3 astronauts Alan Bean and Jack Lousma helped design the "field modification kit" to use a standard CSM for rescue, and would have flown the CSM for their mission to rescue Skylab 2 if necessary. The standard Skylab Command Module accommodated a crew of three with storage lockers on the aft bulkhead for resupply of experiment film and other equipment, as well as the return of exposed film, data tapes and experiment samples. To convert the standard CSM to a rescue vehicle, the storage lockers were removed and replaced with two crew couches to seat a total of five crewmen."

Posted on Flickr by Mike Acs. NASA ID: 108-KSC-70P-69

"Soon after Skylab 3's launch the crew's CSM developed a problem with Quad B, one of its four reaction control system thrusters. On August 2, 1973, six days later, a snowstorm-like effect outside the station startled the crew during breakfast. What appeared to be 'a real blizzard' was fuel leaking from Quad D, opposite from Quad B. The malfunctions left two available quads, and while the spacecraft could operate with just one, the leaks posed a possible risk to other systems. The fuel for all quads and the main service propulsion system (SPS) engine were from the same batch; if the SPS fuel was contaminated, the CSM might not be able to deorbit.

source

NASA considered bringing the crew home immediately, but because the astronauts were safe on the station with ample supplies and because plans for a rescue flight existed,  the mission continued while the Saturn IB rocket AS-208 with CSM-119 was assembled in the Vehicle Assembly Building at Launch Complex 39 for possible use. It was at one point rolled out to LC-39B.

Illustration of the rescue Apollo spacecraft preparing to dock at Skylab’s lateral port. source

NASA announced on August 4 that Skylab 3 and Skylab 4 backup crewmen Vance Brand and Don Lind would fly any rescue mission; they had immediately begun training for the flight once the second quad had failed on August 2. After engineers found that the leaks would not disable the spacecraft, the two men used simulators to test reentry using two quads. If ground personnel worked 24 hours a day and skipped some tests, the mission could launch on September 10, and would last no more than five days. The astronauts would attempt to prepare Skylab for further use but returning experimental data and diagnosing the cause of the problem were more important, with Lind choosing what would be brought back. Human urine and feces samples and Apollo Telescope Mount and other film were the priorities. Although Skylab had two docking ports the primary one would be used if possible, jettisoning the Skylab crew's CSM if necessary.

Posted on Flickr by Drew Granston: link

While many within NASA believed that the rescue mission would occur, within hours of the failure of the second quad the agency canceled the rescue mission. Beyond NASA's conclusion that the failed quads would not disable the Skylab 3 CSM and the SPS fuel was uncontaminated, Brand and Lind had already shown during their training as backup Skylab crewmen that a reentry with failed quads was safe. They also devised a method to deorbit with the command module's attitude control system. Later joking that they were 'very efficient but perfectly stupid, because we have literally worked ourselves out of the mission', Brand and Lind continued to train for a rescue mission, as well as for their backup roles, but the Skylab 3 crew was able to complete its full 59-day mission on the station and safely return to Earth using the two functional RCS thruster quads,  using the SPS engine once instead of twice as precaution."

- Information from Wikipedia: link

Posted on Flickr by Ed Dempsey: link

Saturn IB SA-208 was used for Skylab 4 and SA-209 was assigned to the standby rescue mission. At one point, CSM-119/SA-209 was slated for the Skylab 5 mission but it was cancelled when SL-4 was extended and completed all of it objectives.

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-4

Later, CSM-119/SA-209 was the backup launch vehicle for Apollo-Soyuz Test Project mission and standby rescue vehicle. After the Apollo program ended, the surplus rocket and spacecraft were displayed at the Kennedy Space Center, Florida.

NASA ID: 71-H-662, S73-31922

source, source

[topguncortez]

Don't Try to Be the Hero || Whumptober Day 5 - B. Floyd

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist form

synopsis: Bob always dreamed that one day he'd be superman, and one day that dream came true. . . almost

word count: 4.1k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: held at gun point

warnings: domestic violence, teen pregnancy, being held a gun point, gun shots, character death.

When Bob Floyd was six years old, his kindergarten teacher Mrs. Adams asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up and he responded with: 

“Clark Kent! Superman!” 

And the whole class burst out laughing. Even sweet, elderly Mrs. Adams couldn’t help but crack a smile at little Bobby Floyd’s answer. Bob was by far the smallest kindergartner in his class, by size and height. He had big, round glasses that would fall down his nose at the simplest things he would do. They had duct tape on one side of them due to Johnny Smith throwing a dodgeball at him. His parents didn’t have enough money to get him a new pair of glasses, so Bob had to deal with the broken pair until his yearly eye exam. 

The ridicule didn’t just end in kindergarten, it followed Bob throughout grade school, into middle school, and high school. Bob was a late bloomer and didn’t hit his growth spurt until his senior year of high school. At 6’2, Bob was scrawny, his ribs poking out. His dad encouraged him to join the football team, but the only position the coach would give him was waterboy. The boys on the team, most of them who had remembered Bob’s answer from kindergarten would tease him relentlessly. 

“Let’s see if you can get out of this, Clark Kent!” Johnny Smith snickered as he slammed the locker door shut with Bob on the inside. Bob was stuck inside that cold, dark locker for hours, crying and screaming, hoping that someone would come by and get him. And two hours later, someone did. Someone who Bob swore was an angel. 

“Holy shit!” She cursed as she opened the locker, “Are you alright?” 

Bob was mesmerized in that moment. The bright gym lights created what he swore was a halo over her head, as she looked with concerned eyes over his body for any injuries. His throat was dry as he reached his hand out. 

“I’m Bobby,” He muttered. She smiled at him. A genuine smile. Not one of those mocking smiles he usually got from girls. He noticed her cheerleading uniform and the bow in her hair. 

“I’m Y/N,” She shook his hand. 

That night, Bob had ridden his bike home as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t even let the tires stop spinning when he jumped off of it and ran up to his room. He pulled out the sketchbook that he hid under the loose floorboard from his father, opened to the first blank page, and began to draw. Bob had been drawing comics for as long as he could. Drawing himself like he was Clark Kent, with muscles and a ripped abdomen. Every time he tried to draw his Lois Lane, it never looked right, until now. Bob stuck his tongue out of his mouth, concentrating as he remembered the look on her face when she opened the locker. 

“Lois Lane. . . Y/N,” Bob muttered. 

And just like the real SuperWoman, Y/N seemed to always be by Bob’s side when he needed help saving the day. Bob had learned that Y/N was Johnny Smith’s girlfriend, watching them at their lunch table full of jocks. She always sat on his lap, even if she tried to sit in her own chair, Johnny always pulled her into his lap. The smile on her face was not as bright as it was the day she shook Bob’s hand. Bob had noticed, that even though it was lunchtime, she never did eat. She just sipped on her water and talked to her friends. 

However, Bob did notice her real smile whenever she looked at him. Usually, the cheerleaders practice at the same time as the football players. Bob would occasionally look over towards them just in time to catch Y/N’s eye on him. She would send him a small smile and a wave, and all Bob could do was blush and look away. 

“Stare at my girl again, Floyd, and I’ll put you in a grave,” Johnny threatened as he stepped off the field to grab one of the cups of Gatorade Bob had filled. Johnny crumbled up the paper cup and threw it at Bob as he jogged back out to the field. Bob looked over his shoulder and noticed Y/N’s frown at the interaction. 

Bob heeded Johnny’s warning and didn’t look or interact with Y/N. Until one night, when Bob was leaving the locker room after spending hours washing the practice jerseys and getting ready for the game on Friday, he found Y/N, tears running down her face, shakily trying to type on her phone. She had a red mark across her cheek that looked like it was going to start to bruise. 

“Y/N?” Bob asked softly. 

The girl jumped and turned to see him standing there, looking at her with concern, “C-Can you dr-drive me home? Johnny was supposed to take me home but he forgot.” 

Bob looked down at his watch, “Practice was over three hours ago. Have you been here the whole time?” Y/N bit her lip, deciding what to respond with. But Bob didn’t need her to answer, it was clear by the way she was shivering in the October air, “C’mon. I’ll take you home.” 

Y/N didn’t hesitate and followed Bob to his beat-up old truck in the parking lot. The second they were in the cab, Bob turned the truck on and cracked the heat up. Y/N let out a sigh as she felt the warmth seep into her bones. She gave him her address and Bob began the drive. 

Every so often he’d look over at her, noticing the bruise on her cheek. He couldn’t stop his mind from jumping to a sickening conclusion. He swallowed and sat up a bit in his seat, before looking back over at Y/N. 

“How’d you get that bruise?” Bob blurted out. His eyes went slightly wide at the sudden burst of confidence. 

Y/N swallowed thickly and looked at Bob. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking, it was clear in his blue eyes, “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to. H-He was just upset about practice and I wasn’t helping and I-” 

“It doesn’t mean he gets to hit you,” Bob said, sincerely. 

Y/N wasn’t sure what set her off, maybe it was the tone of Bob’s voice. Maybe it was the way that he looked at her like she was the most important thing in his life. Maybe it was the simple act of kindness by turning the vent towards her. But the dam broke, and tears started running down her cheeks. Bob had pulled into her driveway as she covered her face with her hands, her sobs echoing in the quiet cab. He parked the truck and wordlessly unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn’t say anything, just giving her a safe space to cry. Bob had sisters, and knew sometimes, all they needed was a good cry and someone to be there. 

Y/N let out a gasp as she raised her head and looked at Bob, “He’s a good guy, Bobby,” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “He’s got offers from Clemson and Alabama, a-and he’s going to be able to provide for us and I-” 

“Wait,” Bob’s eyebrows furrowed, “Are you. . . Are you-” Y/N just nodded, knowing exactly what he was accluding to. Bob scooted over in the cab, so his thigh was touching her’s. He unbuckled her seatbelt, and Y/N all but collapsed into his side. He held her tightly in his arms, placing her head on his shoulder. Y/N cried until her tears had all run out. She lifted her head and looked at Bob, his blue eyes looked like they had tears in them as well. 

Neither one was sure who leaned in first, but it didn’t matter. Bob gently cupped Y/N’s face, his thumb wiping a stray tear from her pink cheeks. Slowly, gravity pulled them together. Y/N’s eyes fluttered from his down to his lips. She closed her eyes, as she felt his lips ghost hers, before closing the gap between the two of them. 

It was like a spark between the two of them, as Y/N sighed into the kiss. One of Bob’s hands moved to tangle in her hair, pulling just slightly. Y/N gasped as Bob slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her lips tasted like watermelon chapstick with a hint of mint. Bob’s other hand trailed down her body, feeling the soft curves under his hand. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but when Y/N tugged just right on his hair, he growled and shifted her body into his lap. 

Y/N moaned as she settled her legs on either side of his body. She rocked her hips against his, feeling him swell in his jeans. Bob’s hands moved to her thighs, gliding up the smooth skin and landing on her hips. He moved her back and forth, creating a delicious friction for the two of them. Bob’s lips moved from her’s to her jaw and down her neck. 

“Bobby,” Y/N sighed. She gently pulled him back, looking at him. His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, which made a guilty feeling settle in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. She shook her head and moved off his lap, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Bob shook his head, “I am. I shouldn’t have taken ad-” 

“No,” Y/N cut him off, “I wanted it too. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want,” Bob nodded and Y/N gave him a soft smile. She ran a hand through his hair and kissed his cheek, “You’re a good man, Bobby Floyd. . . superman.” 

Bob’s jaw fell open as Y/N turned and climbed out of the truck. Bob watched her walk up the sidewalk towards her house. 

And that was one of the last times Bob Floyd saw Y/N. 

— — —

It had been 10 years since Bob had stepped into his hometown. Bob had joined the Navy his senior year of high school, shocking pretty much everyone. What was even more shocking was when his parents announced in front of the whole congregation at church that Bob had become a Naval aviator. A weapons system officer to be more precise. 

No one could believe it, but little Bobby Floyd was actually flying like he was Superman. 

He wasn’t the same scrawny boy that everyone remembers him being. He was still tall, but his once lanky body had turned into hard muscle. His cheeks had lost that baby fat that he used to have. His stomach, which once showed his ribs, now had a six-pack. His soft hands had now become calloused from hours spent in the gym and flying. But, even though Bob’s body had changed, his heart did not. 

It had been 10 years, and Bob was still madly in love with the girl who had walked away from him, Y/N. 

After that night in his truck, Bob hadn’t seen Y/N again. Her parents had found out about the pregnancy and sent her to live with an aunt for the remainder of their senior year. She had come back after a couple of years, with a little girl who looked just like her, and a ring on her finger. Y/N and Johnny Smith had gotten married about a year after their daughter was born. Johnny’s dreams of going to play for the University of Alabama had come crashing down after he tore his ACL during a game his senior year. Instead, Johnny worked at the steel mill like most of the guys who Bob went to high school with. 

It was late, and Bob found himself driving the dark streets of his hometown. There wasn’t much to do at 8:30 at night. The old farmers and their wives had gone to bed. There was only one bar in town, which was usually overrun with ranch hands and old drunks. Bob was going to keep driving around the old town square when he noticed the familiar beat-up Honda parked in front of the bar. His heart leaped in his chest as he pulled his truck into an available spot. 

Bob wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he pushed the door open, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the girl he had fallen in love with to be standing behind the bar. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a white tank top on her body, and a pair of jeans that fit her just right. Her hands were on her hips as she was sassing back to some drunk patron. Her smile was bright, one that Bob had seen before. 

Noticing someone had walked into the bar, Y/N looked up from her conversation with Harvey, a regular who would come in and drink until he fell asleep at the bar. She looked like she had seen a ghost as her eyes locked with Bob Floyd’s. She felt like she could cry as she quickly rounded the bar and ran to him. Y/N threw her arms around Bob’s neck, hugging him tightly. Bob didn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly. 

Y/N pulled back and looked at Bob, “God, you’ve changed.” 

“I’m still Bob,” He shrugged. 

“No. . you’re Superman,” Y/N smiled. Bob blushed at her words and looked down at his boots, “C’mon, let me get you something.” 

“Oh, I don’t-” Bob started to say but Y/N cut him off. 

“Lemonade or Shirley Temple?” 

“Shirley Temple,” Bob nodded, “And don’t be stingy with the grenadine.” 

Y/N laughed as she walked back behind the bar. Bob settled up on a bar stool and watched as she mesmerizingly worked making his mocktail, while also getting drinks for the other patrons that walked up to the bar. She set his drink in front of him and winked.

“What brings you back?” Y/N asked, picking up a rag and cleaning down the sticky bar top. 

Bob took a sip of his drink, “Lexi had her baby. Decided to come home and see the rascal.” 

“Oh yeah,” Y/N smiled, “I gave her some of Vera’s old baby clothes and stuff. Have you seen her yet?” 

“Do you want to see pictures?” Bob asked and Y/N nodded eagerly. Bob pulled his phone out and opened the photos application. Y/N cooed as she took the phone and swiped through the photos of the baby. Her heart swelled, her eyes filling with love. 

“Oh my gosh, look at her cheeks,” Y/N glanced up from the phone and looked at Bob, “She’s got the Floyd cheeks. Just like yours.” Bob rolled his eyes, remembering how everyone used to pinch his cheeks when he was little, “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Floyd. They are adorable.” 

“Yeah well, enough about me,” Bob said and took his phone back from Y/N, “How about you? How’s Vera? And J-Johnny?” 

Y/N seemed to stiffen at the mention of her husband’s name. She glanced around the bar quickly, seeing who might be listening. It seemed like Johnny had spies everywhere she went, listening and watching her every move. 

Y/N leaned closer to Bob, “Vera is good. She’s in third grade now. . . living with my Mom in Colorado. I see her when I can.” Now that was news to Bob, but he didn’t question it. He knew that she probably had her reasons, and whatever that reason was, was probably for the best.

However, Bob did notice how Y/N didn’t mention anything about Johnny. But the look of fear in her eye when he mentioned his name was not lost on him. 

Bob sat on his barstool for the rest of the night, catching up with Y/N as she filled and refilled the drinks of the patrons in the bar. She made sure to keep Bob’s glass full, switching between water and a Shirley Temple. Bob noticed that her true smile had returned to her face, lighting up her eyes. It made Bob smile as she would laugh at something he would say, or how she hung on to every word he would say about different missions he went on. Y/N said little about her life, but she did say that she was going to school part-time during the day, and worked nights. Her parents had split about five years ago, her mother going to live near Denver and her father still living in town and working at the mill. 

Bob stayed until the last call and stayed with Y/N as she locked up the bar. She pulled on the strap of her purse and looked at Bob, “Do you think you could give me a ride home? I usually walk but-” 

“Of course,” Bob nodded. Y/N smiled at him and followed him to that same beat-up old truck that he had ten years ago. Y/N couldn’t help the blush that rose on her cheeks as she slid into the bench seat, remembering what had transpired the last time she was in the truck. She rattled off her address as Bob climbed into the driver’s seat. Bob nodded and reached forward to turn the heat on. It was like deja vu all over again, as Bob quietly drove through the streets. 

“Johnny works at the mill,” Y/N said softly, “I didn’t answer your question earlier. . . but he uh, he works at the mill.” 

Bob nodded, “Union man. Smart idea.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered. 

Silence stretched back through the cab as Bob continued to drive. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he could tell something was off. He wasn’t sure if it was in Y/N’s body language or in the way she barely spoke about Johnny. He spared glances over at Y/N, as she looked out the window at the familiar streets. 

“It’s the yellow one with the red door,” Y/N pointed out. The house was cute and quaint something that was very much Y/N. Bob noticed that Y/N stiffened as she noticed a truck in the driveway, “Shit. He was supposed to be at work.” Bob’s jaw clenched as Y/N started to shake as she reached for the door handle, “Thank you, Bobby. It was nice seeing you again.” 

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too,” Bob smiled at Y/N, “I’ll call-” 

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “No, th-that’s not a good idea. I’m sorry, Bob.” Y/N gave him a small smile as she climbed out of the truck quickly. She shut the door and moved with haste up the sidewalk to the front door. Bob waited until she was inside the front door before he pulled away from the side of the street to head home. 

Except, Bob didn’t go home. 

He wasn’t sure why, but warning signs were going off in his head as he aimlessly drove around town. There was something in the way her voice trembled as she spoke to him, and the quick way she got inside the house. Bob couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

“Screw it,” Bob cursed, and quickly turned the truck around to head back to Y/N’s house. He didn’t even hesitate as he put the truck in park and made his way to the front door. He raised his fist to knock on the door when he heard the crashing sound of glass followed by a scream. 

“I didn’t do anything!” A female voice cried out. And Bob knew exactly who the voice belonged to. Bob didn’t hesitate as he rammed the door down, causing the wood. 

“What the fuck!?” Johnny roared as he looked at Bob, who was standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the broken door. Johnny laughed, shaking his head, “Bob fucking Floyd. Trying to place Superman now?” 

“Bob, leave,” Y/N said, from behind Johnny. Her eyes were red and he noticed a red mark on her cheek and what looked like a handprint on her neck, “It’s okay. . .” Her eyes glanced down towards Johnny’s hand. 

“No, no, no,” Johnny shook his head. And that’s when Bob noticed the gun in Johnny’s hand, “Bob Floyd wants to play Superman. Let’s see if he can survive this,” He raised the gun and pointed it at Bob’s head. 

“No!” Y/N cried. Bob lifted his hands in surrender looking Johnny straight in the eye, “Just let him go! He won’t say anything!” 

“Shut up, bitch,” Johnny spat over his shoulder, “Bob has always tried to get in on my girl. I told you I’d put you in the grave, Floyd.”  

“Let’s just think about this,” Bob said, slowly, “This won’t end well for anyone. Not you and certainly not me. But she’s right, I won’t say anything.” 

Johnny shook his head, “Bullshit, Floyd. You’ve always wanted to be the hero.” 

Bob looked past Johnny and locked eyes with Y/N. Tears were streaming down her face as she watched the interaction. 

“Let her go,” Bob spoke, “She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to see you shoot me. Besides, if she’s not here, she can’t be a witness to testify against you.” Johnny looked over his shoulder, and then back at Bob. Even in his crazed mind, he knew that Bob was right. Y/N would be a witness to murder if she was here. 

“You heard him,” Johnny said, “Leave.” 

Y/N shook her head, standing her ground, “No. I am not leaving so you can kill him. He didn’t do anything.” 

“You stupid bitch,” Johnny growled and turned around to face her, “Do as your told for- shit!” 

Bob moved quickly, taking his chance to strike. He jumped on his back, wrapping his arm around Johnny’s neck, and pulling tightly, choking him. The two of them fought against each other, as Bob tried to get him to drop the gun. Johnny rammed his elbow into Bob’s stomach, making him groan in pain, but Bob never let his grip falter. Bob stumbled over to the wall, pushing Johnny’s face up against it. The man groaned as Bob grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the wall, hearing a sickening crunch. Bob grabbed his arm that held the gun and held it behind his back. 

“You think you can just put your hands on her and get away with it?” Bob spat, as he pushed Johnny’s face against the wall. He rammed his knee in between Johnny’s legs, hitting him in the crotch. 

“She’s a whore,” Johnny spat, “The kid isn’t even mine. She’s been lying.” 

“That gives you no right,” Bob cursed. 

Johnny smirked, “You love her, don’t you? So stupidly in love with a whore. She let you hit and you never thought twice.” Bob clenched his jaw as he twisted his arm again, making him groan, “But you know what they say. . . whore’s deserve to die.” 

It happened so quickly. 

One moment, Bob thought he had control of everything. The next, he’s elbowed in the nose and stumbles away, letting go of Johnny. And before Bob could even try and stop him, Johnny fired off a shot. 

“Oh god,” Y/N’s voice floated towards Bob. He looked over to the doorway, where she stood with a growing red spot on her abdomen. Bob rushed towards her, as Johnny ran out the front door. He gently helped her to the ground, pressing his hands to the wound. He could hear the distant sound of sirens approaching. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Bob said, his hands staining with crimson. 

Y/N shook her head, tears running down her cheeks, “I’m n-not.” 

“Yes, you are,” Bob demanded, “You are going to be just fine. And you’ll get out of here and go see Vera in Colorado and forget about this mess. You’ll forget all about this shit.” 

Y/N shakily lifted her hand and placed it on Bob’s cheek, “She has your eyes.” Bob’s jaw dropped as a shaky breath, and he looked down at her, “Take care of her, for me.” 

Bob nodded, clenching his jaw and trying to hold back tears. Bob shifted her in his arms and held her close, feeling the beat of her heart beneath his hands. He knew by the time the ambulance arrived it would all be too late. 

“You’ve always been my Superman,” Y/N whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“And you’ve always been my Lois Lane.”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @oatmealisweird

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 13

Hobie’s over and they’re both just lounging on her couch. It’s a rare day she has off and so far, nothing crazy has happened to set off Hobie’s police scanner. He had been coming over more often. When he's not at her flat, she’s managed to wiggle her way onto his house boat a time or two. It’s nice for them to hang out and it not be at her place of work. Not that she doesn’t enjoy the pub, but she can’t have any intimate moments with Hobie.

Not that she’s trying to be intimate with Hobie, but they’ve definitely been touchier as of recent…

By touchy she means actively kissing her friend, who she doesn’t think she’s dating and doesn’t want to ask if they are. Mostly because she doesn’t know how she would even want him to answer.

Which is why instead of over analyzing her feelings for her best friend she’s instead choosing to push it under the surface and try to just enjoy the moments she does have.

She’s laying on the couch but her legs are drapped on top of Hobie’s. One of his hands sits in between her thighs, just holding her in place. His other hand is lazily drumming a soundless tune on her leg. His attention only half on the television playing in the background. His full attention is really on her as she tries to curate a perfect playlist for them.

“Should I organize it in a specific order or just let it shuffle?” She asks mindlessly as she’s scrolling through her music.

“It’s a classic mixtape if ya plan it out yea? Make the order matter right?” He hums to her in suggestion.

“Mmm I didn’t think about it like that. Oh!” She has an idea and sits up to look at him better. “What if we did it like a real mix tape? Side A and Side B, but like we curate one side each.” She says with a bright smile.

He nods in agreement, “I like that. So that’s ten songs each yeah?”

She makes a small noise of satisfaction and plops back down. “Let’s put them on a separate playlist and we can share them together when it’s done, it’ll be a surprise.” She suggests.

They had been doing this for the past couple of hours, just sharing music. MJ suggested they make a playlist to share with each other. It’s escalated into this mixtape.

She’s tapping away on her phone scrolling through song after song, “I don’t know if it’s harder or better that I only get to pick ten songs…” She murmurs to herself.

Hobie’s just watching her with a small smile tugging at his lips. It’s a real peaceful moment between them.

“Choices, choices, choices.” He whispers back leaning toward her.

She looks up from her phone to see him hovering over her with a smile. She pulls her phone against her chest.

“No cheating! It’s not fair if you look before I’m done. That ruins the point of sharing music.” She says giggling.

He rolls his eyes but backs away, keeping his hands on her thighs. “Fine fine, I won’t look.” He leans back into the couch and starts tapping an unknown rhythm against her leg.

Her face scrunches up as she looks through her songs, trying to find the songs she relates to. She is nervous about sharing her stuff with him though… Hobie actually writes and performs music. It’s a small added pressure she wasn’t expecting.

Hobie moves one of his hands to grab her cheek, making her look up at him.

“Relax, you’re thinking too hard about it.” He tells her in a soothing voice.

She rolls her eyes but gives him a soft smile, “I know but, I don’t know, I feel like I’m thirteen and you’ll be hyper critical over my music taste.” She mumbles.

He looks at her with a straight face, “I will be hyper critical.” He says in faux seriousness.

“Oh, piss off!” she laughs shoving him away. She readjusts herself to sit up and face him. “That’s not helpful.” She jokes.

He rolls his eyes, “MJ it’s fine. Whatever you put on there won’t change how I feel about ya. Relax.” He gives her a toothy smile and musses her hair.

She bats his hands away and frowns, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He grabs her waist and pulls her to his lap, wrapping his arms around her and slotting his head on her shoulder. “It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine promise.” He presses a kiss to her cheek drawling out his words. 

She turns to look at him relaxing into his hold. She hums in satisfaction at his response.

“Okay, I need to get up or I’ll get sleepy like this.” She tells him starting to wiggle.

He groans in response and locks his arms around her, “Too late, I’ve trapped ya with my superior spider strength.” He tells her jokingly.

She laughs and tries to worm her way out of his hold. “That’s not fair!” She groans in response pushing down on his arms. Which are definitely not budging.

He just grunts as a reply and keeps his hold on her, his laugh vibrating down her back. It sends a chill through her spine.

She opens her mouth to respond to him but before she can they both hear the buzz of the police radio. Hobie sighs and shoves his face into her back, groaning in annoyance.

They both listen in and catch something about a break in down a block of locally owned storefronts.

He releases his grip on her, “Can’t steal from the giant corporations like the rest of us, gotta be the mom and pop shops.” He mutters under his breath.

She just chuckles in response and turns to face him, giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess you better go then tiger.” She says softly.

His face heats up, “That’s new.” He chuckles a bit looking down at her.

Her face burns red, “Do you not like it?” she asks now a little embarrassed.

“No, no, no! I liked it, just different is all.” He chuckles nervously.

“Oh my god, okay, go go! Moments over.” She covers her face in embarrassment.

He smiles and tugs her hands away pressing a soft kiss to her, “It’s cute, like it.”

He pulls away quickly and backs up to her balcony, pulling on his spider mask, “I’ll be back, promise.” He tells her shooting a web and diving off her balcony.

She rushes over to door and shouts after him, “You better come back!”

She sees him wave back to her before he’s gone from her sight. She sighs and fidgets for a moment before walking back to her couch.

She opens her phone and starts shuffling through her music.

Hobie comes back to her flat, tired and with a sore back. Upon entering he notices she’s laying on the couch. He tries to not make much noise and peaks over the couch to see her passed out, phone in hand and music softly playing.

He gives a soft snort and gently pries her phone from her hands. He opens it and sees she’s been meticulously crafting her portion of their shared mixtape. He grins to himself and starts the playlist from the start. He’s too enamored by the thought of her sitting here the whole time fussing over what songs she was going to pick, it has him grinning from ear to ear.

He sits and listens to the playlist in order, it only take around forty minutes, give or take. He sits on the edge of the couch running his hand lazily through MJ’s hair, she doesn’t move except to turn over once.

She’s a deep sleeper and he’s thankful for that right now. He’s crafting his half of the mixtape as the music pours from her speakers. He’s jotting them down in his head. It’ll be a pleasant surprise when she finds it.

Once he’s done listening he takes her phone and adds his own half. Some songs are easy to add, others he had to think on a little bit. One just makes him chuckle a bit and he doesn’t hesitate to add it.

He finishes adding his half and looks over it, checking it one last time to see if he wanted to make any changes.

He nods to himself and sets her phone down. He looks over to MJ on the couch and decides she should probably be in her bed, it was late.

He picks her up gently, nestling her in his arms. She makes a small noise but doesn’t wake up. She squirms for a moment pressing her face into his chest, searching for his warmth. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and walks her to her room.

He lays her down and she rolls off of him easier than normal. She sighs and nuzzles into her pillow, getting more comfortable.

He covers his face turning away for a moment, finding the moment too sweet. He leaves her room and goes to take a shower. He knew he was going to stay at her place the moment they were lounging around all day. Her flat was just so comfortable…she was comfortable.

When MJ wakes up she’s in her bed and she feels strong arms around her waist. She turns to look over her shoulder and sees Hobie pressed against her. He’s wide awake and grins as he sees her looking at him sleepily.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He murmurs.

“What time is it?” She asks, her words slurring together groggily.

“Probably around one in the morning. Maybe later?” He whispers to her.

She sighs and nods her head. She wiggles herself so she’s facing him and wraps her arms around his waist bringing him closer to her. She shoves her face into his chest and mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” He asks amused.

She mumbles again, voice still too low and words mushed together for him to know.

“Missed you.” She says more clearly, looking up at him, face red.

He grins and moves one hand to pinch her cheek. “That’s cute, say it again.” He teases.

She groans and puts her face back into his chest, “Not happening.”

“Aww c’mon? You’re so cute when you get like this.” He grips onto her waist and rolls them so he’s on top of her. He looks down at her, with an amused smirk.

Her face is flushed as she looks up at him. “Stoooooop you’re so-” she rolls her eyes.

“So charming? Funny? Delightful?” He lists off with a chuckle.

She groans, “More like annoying.” She replies.

“Ouch!” He holds his hand over his heart in fake pain. He drops his weight onto her pinning her in place. “Ya wound me! My ego, it’s crushed!” he groans in pain.

She’s laughing but also shoving him off of her, “You’re the one who’s crushing me!”

“Guess I’ll just delete my half of the mixtape then, if I’m so annoying.” He goads grabbing for her phone.

She sits up and snatches it away from him. “What?! You added to it?” She’s immediately opening up her music and looking through what he’s added.

He’s smiling at her and shrugs his shoulders, “Ya had it open when you passed out.”

She whips her head to look at him, “Did you listen to it?” her eyes are wide as she looks at him, almost embarrassed.

He scratches the back of his head, “I did, couldn’t resist.” He leans forward to look at her closer, “Came back and you were napping phone in hand, music playin’… All I could see was your scrunched-up face trying to find the perfect songs.” He grins cheekily at her.

She shoves his shoulder lightly. “Can we listen to it together?” She asks softly.

He throws his head back and groans playfully. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back down to lay in the bed. Nuzzling his face into her neck.

“So cute…” He mumbles into her. His breath fanning her neck, sending a shiver down her back.

“Hobie…” She drags out his name, almost in warning.

He hums and peaks up at her, “You’re just so cute, can’t help it.” He presses a kiss to her neck.

He pulls back and plucks the phone from her hand and presses play on the playlist. He moves her phone to her bedside table and drags her under the covers with him to snuggle. He slots his head back against her neck, arms clinging tightly to her waist. She in turn wraps her arms him and interweaves their legs together into a knot of limbs. Their breathing evening out as they listen to the music together.

They fall asleep to sound of each other’s hearts and shared songs.

Spotify Playlists can be found here: Mariana / Hobie

Please do not come for the music choices I made, I spent way to long on them and I stand by them. I will not take criticism on this, I will cry. I will add art to them later, but collectively this is about an hour of music.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

Message if you would like to be added to the tag list!

[gretavangroupie]

Voyeur

Word count: 3.5k+

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Language, Smut, Fluff.

Summary: A new side of Jake comes to life within the walls of your new home. But you may not be the only one who notices.

You hit send, sending the request off to the lab. Releasing a deep sigh from your chest, you push back from your desk and stretch your legs feeling the joints ache for a new position. Your whole body is tired, it's been a long 12 hours. Your phone begins to buzz in your pocket as it vibrates with a text message. A small smile crosses your face when you see Jake’s initials flash across the screen.

JK: Baby, when will you be home?

Glancing at the clock you check the time. 4:05. You flip through the charts you still have to finish and bite your cheek, knowing it's going to be a while. You text him back with the bad news.

You: It’s not looking like any time soon. I still have about 5 charts left to do.

JK: Hmmm, that’s not gonna work.

You: I’m sorry?

JK: I need you to come home, I am dying.

You: Dying?

JK:  I need you.

You: Oh

JK: Baby

You: Why don’t you…

JK: No

You: Jake…

JK: Maybe

You: I will try my best to get these done quickly.

JK: Okay

Placing your phone back in your pocket you get started on the first of many charts. Furiously typing and putting in the values, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket again. 

JK: *Image*

Opening the photo you see a barely clothed Jake laying in your bed, just waiting.

You: Tempting as always Jacob, but the more you text me the longer it's going to take. Shoot, I may have to spend the night in the on-call room if it gets too late…

You enjoy teasing him. You know full well that is not your intention. 

JK: No. Please come home tonight 

You: Love you, see you later.

JK: Love you

JAKE POV

With a huff you put your phone down on the bed. Getting up, you decide to go unpack a few boxes while you wait. You had just bought this big beautiful house together, and you had both been living out of boxes for the past few weeks. You being gone and her working, neither of you really had much time to unpack and get settled. 

This was her last shift this week, and the first time you would both be home for a weekend in what felt like months. It would definitely be the first night you had spent with her this week, only seeing her during the day, and you were desperate for her. You needed her. Feeling your blood rushing to your dick you quickly push the thought of her from your mind, before you have to take care of it yourself. 

No. Wait for her.

You maneuver your way through the maze of cardboard moving boxes, making your way to the front living room. The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow onto the dark, charcoal walls. Surveying the amount of boxes left to unpack, you sigh. This is going to take a while. 

You had no problem getting your music loft set up, but the living room, and even worse the kitchen… seemed daunting. Grabbing one of the boxes near the door, you drag it across the floor and over to the couch. You sit down, and grab your knife out of your pocket, slicing the tape on top.

As you open it up and peer inside you see your record collection, sitting and waiting to be placed in its new home. You spend the next thirty minutes, alphabetizing and placing the collection on the built-in shelves. One of the things you loved about this home was the unlimited amount of places to store things. It is old, one of the oldest in Nashville. That was part of its charm. When you came to look at the house it spoke to you instantly. It had stories in its walls begging to be told. Within five minutes you knew it was the one and when she told you how much she loved it, you had no choice but to put in an offer on it immediately. Two long days were spent waiting to hear if your offer was accepted, and finally it was. It was yours. Both of yours. 

Once all of your records sat happily on the shelves, you moved on to the next box which was full of books, awaiting their similar fate. You began the process of unpacking them, and organizing them on the shelf. 

You had only unpacked two boxes but it felt like 40, with all of the back and forth trips between the shelves and the box. Sitting down on the leather chair in the corner, you cross your leg over your knee and pull out your phone to see if she had texted you, but you were met with nothing. A groan leaves your chest at the uncertainty of knowing when she would be home. You’ve never felt this desperate and pathetic in your entire life.

Standing up, you break down the two boxes, and make your way to the trash can outside to put them into the recycling bin. On your walk back inside you see your neighbors in the front yard, and you wave to them with a quick smile. You make a mental note to go over and introduce yourself now that you were home to do so. 

The sun is setting rapidly, the house growing dark. The dark paint on the walls further darkened each room. It was moody, and gothic. Everything you ever wanted in a home. A place that was truly yours.

You step into your front door, and turn on the small lamp that sits at the entryway. You make your way through the first level of the house turning on various lamps, so that when she does get home, she doesnt stumble over all of the boxes and clutter. You walk back to the book shelf in the living room, grabbing a book that caught your eye earlier. You had bought it to read on tour, but it was always so loud on the bus, you never got a chance. You head up the stairs into the loft, and position yourself on the plush leather couch, finding a comfortable position. But as soon as you crack the book open you realize the readers you so desperately need are downstairs in your bedroom. 

With a grumble you stand up with your book, making your way back down the stairs. Stepping into your bedroom you see them sitting on the dresser, and you put them on, flopping yourself down onto the fluffy white sheets. The soft orange glow of the streetlight pours in through your large bedroom window. But the light is not enough for you to legibly make out the letters on the pages. You reach over and turn on your lamp, letting it turn the room a soft amber. Opening the first page you are instantly sucked in, and find the time passing quickly. 

Six chapters in you feel your phone buzz on the bed. When you see her name flash across the screen you quickly open it. ‘Be home soon’. Eliciting an audible “Finally.” from your lips.

You get up and walk to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it get hot. Steam begins to fill the small master bathroom as you strip down. You grab a towel from the linen closet and then step into the scalding hot water. Letting the water run down your back you wet your hair before lathering in the fancy shampoo she insists you start using, which you will admit smells pretty good.

You scrub your body with her favorite body wash, hoping to entice her further. Trying to keep it short you rinse yourself and turn off the water. Wrapping yourself in the clean towel.

You step out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, looking outside the large picture window that sits directly behind your bed. Yet another thing you loved about this house was the grand windows. More than double the size of an average window, it filled the rooms with plenty of natural light. You insisted that you not cover the windows with any blinds or curtains, letting as much light flow into the house as possible. You lived on a quiet street, so you never really thought about what people might see in the dark of the night, but if you were being completely honest, it didn't matter to you if they did.

You stand in front of the floor length mirror and as you button the few buttons on your shirt. You hear her car pull into the driveway and you can't help the smile that crosses your face. Running your fingers through your damp hair, you hang your towel on the back of the bathroom door, and make your way into the kitchen, to uncork a bottle of wine. 

HER POV

Placing your key in the front door, you peer into the glass and see the glow of lamp light scattered throughout the house. You twist the key in the lock and push the door open. It’s quiet other than the sound of a record spinning on the turntable in the living room. The soft crackle of the vinyl is homey, and always reminds you of Jake. You can smell his body wash in the air, and you know he must have just showered.

“Jake?” you call out for him.

“In the kitchen my love.” he replies, and you hear the clinking together of glass stemware.

He always knows what I need…

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, your body naturally gravitating towards him. 

You see him standing at the kitchen counter, graciously pouring the dark red wine into the glasses, before placing the bottle onto the wooden countertop.

He grabs a glass and extends it out to you, as his eyes meet yours, “My love?”

You accept the glass and sip it slowly, tasting the selection of the evening. 

“Hi baby, you smell good.” you say, taking another small sip. “This is good, is this one of the bottles from Italy?” 

“It is, I figured we could enjoy it together. I loved it when I had it then, and knew I had to bring some home to you.” he replies, picking up the bottle to hand it to you.

You inspect the label, in all Italian of course, running your fingers over the embossed paper. 

“You have good taste Mr. Kiszka.” you say, setting down the bottle. His hand finds your waist and circle around you, lacing his fingers together to hold you close to him.

“I like to think so…” he says, craning his face dangerously close to yours.

“You want to tell me why you needed me so badly today?” you ask, a whisper against his lips.

He lets out a small laugh, a smile playing upon his lips, “Well, I haven’t gotten to see you all week. I missed you. I am missing you. I need you. I can’t live without you a second longer.” he says, his words sending goosebumps across your skin. 

His lips press to yours, the taste of the wine still lingering on his tongue. You can feel the urgency in his kiss and you know deep down you want him just as badly as he wants you. 

You pull away, “Jake…I missed you too.” you whisper, returning your lips back to his. You can feel the transfer of energy between the two of you, both of you craving more of each other. His hands start to move, finding their way under your top, ridding your body of the pale blue fabric.

Your hands reach into the unbuttoned section of his shirt, the way you like it, placing your hands on his chest. You slide them upward to tangle into the bottom of his still damp hair. The smell of him wafting into your nose is an intoxicating high. 

A growl leaves his throat as he parts his lips from yours. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bedroom. You walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, letting the fluffy white sheets entice you. You lay back letting them puff up around your arms and you release a deep sigh. When Jake returns to you, he is sans shirt, leaving his silver necklace as the only adornment to his body perfect body. 

He crawls over top of you, hovering his face above yours. His necklace swings between the two of you, a shiny reminder of you he wears daily. 

“Why don’t you show me what you wanted me to come home for today.” you say playfully. 

“It would be my pleasure darling.” he says, pulling the cups of your bra down leaving your bare chest exposed to the cool air of the room. Your nipples harden in response. He rubs his thumb over the taught buds, the look of lust in his eyes drowning out the brown irises. 

“Jake….touch me.” you beg.

At your command his lips attach to your chest as his hands work to rid you of your pants. He works them down your legs as you kick them off onto the floor. You reach between you to grab his hardened dick through the cotton of his boxers. He groans as you wrap your hand around him and stroke him through the fabric.

He pulls away from you long enough to take his boxers off, letting his dick spring free. You sit up off the bed and remove your bra, tossing it to the floor. You stand up and spin him around, having him sit on the edge of the bed. You make your way to your knees below him as your hand finds his base and gently begins to tug upward on his throbbing length. 

He watches down on you as you take him in your mouth. He throws his head back at the sensation and you look up to see his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He groans loudly and you feel the wetness pooling at your core. 

You’ve seen this look on his face before. In fact a lot of people have. It’s the same look as when he hits a note perfectly at the end of a solo. It's his look of euphoria.

You wrap your lips firmly around his cock and you begin to work him, showing him just how much you missed him. When you flick your eyes up to his however, he isn’t looking at you. He is looking at himself. 

The floor length mirror is situated against the corner of the wall facing the bed. He has the best view in the house of what is transpiring. You feel his cock twitch as he watches himself receive what he has been dying for all day. You know he likes to watch himself on stage but this is what really gets him off. Twisting your wrist with each flick of your tongue you feel him start to twitch in the back of your throat. 

He moans loudly as you pick up the pace, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip. His breathing starts to become erratic as he nears his finish.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. Let me cum on your tits.” he begs. 

You nod your head as he forces himself further down your throat and you feel the familiar twitching as he pulls himself from your mouth, grasping his own length and stroking himself rapidly as he watches himself in the mirror. His breathing is quick and ragged and a drawn out curse falls from his lips as his release shoots out, painting your chest in hot white ropes. His eyes never leaving the vision of the two of you in the mirror. He throws his head back again in a similar fashion as he struggles to catch his breath. Chest heaving with each breath, sweat running down his neck.

When his gaze finally returns to you he watches as you collect his cum with your fingers, licking them clean. 

“Jesus Christ that was hot.” he says, taking your hand and helping you stand. He pulls you by the hand to fall on top of him, as he rolls you to be underneath him. The flicker of desire in his eyes growing to constant glow.

He slides down your body, grabbing the hem of your panties in his fingers and sling them off your legs. His fingers slide through your slit, collecting your wetness before he brings them to his mouth. 

A groan leaves his chest as he tastes you. “It has been too long. I need you.” he begs, pressing wet kisses to your stomach.

“So have me.” you reply.

You grab his length and align him with your center, as you feel his tip press against your core.

Lights flash into the room as a car turns the corner of your street.

“Wait Jake, the window.” you say.

“What about it?” he asks, pressing into you.

You moan as he fills you completely, and through strangled breaths you reply, “The window, someone will see us.”

He looks down at you, and smiles, “I know. Let em’ watch. Watch me claim whats mine.” he says, fucking into you hard enough to ellicit a scream from your chest. 

His necklace swings like a pendulum quickly between your bodies as his pace quickens. The tips of his hair are damp with sweat as they brush over his shoulders. You whine beneath him as he hits your g spot with ease.

“Feel good baby? You like it when I fuck you so everyone can see?” he asks.

You moan at the thought of it. Something you never considered. With how much he likes to watch himself, you never thought about him getting off to others watching. Maybe that is part of why he looks so good on stage. He is enjoying other people watching him experience pleasure. A surge of wetness pools between your legs as he pulls out and flips you to your stomach. You push yourself up onto all fours as he smacks your ass. 

“Turn around baby, look at yourself in the mirror.” he demands.

You spin around to face the mirror, shuddering at the vision of yourself in the compromising position. 

“Don’t look away, you’re fuckin gorgeous. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” he says. 

He finds his place behind you, and slowly pushes into you, his hip bones pressing deeply into your ass. He groans as you squeeze your walls around him. 

“Fuck, do that again.” he asks, and so you squeeze around him as you meet his eyes in the mirror. 

“Exactly, baby. Watch me fuck you. Look at how good you make me feel. I’m yours. You fuckin own me.” he says, returning to his regular pace behind you as his hair bobs around his shoulders with each thrust. 

As you watch him you start to understand why he likes it. It is kind of hot to watch. It feels almost wrong. A set of headlights flash across the mirror as you see a car pass the window through the reflection in the mirror.

As it passes you feel Jake’s dick twitch inside of you. You understand now why he was so adamant about the placement of the mirror when you set up the bedroom. This is what he wanted. He wanted to be able to watch himself, and watch the window. He wanted to see if anyone was watching him. He wanted to see everything, from all angles. 

“You like that Jakey? You like the idea of people watching you fuck?” you ask, panting through each word.

“Fuck yeah I do. Want everyone to see what’s mine. You’re fuckin mine.” he says, punctuating each sentence with a forward thrust. 

You know any passerby is in for the show of their lives, especially since the room is lit by the small lamp on his bedside table. Giving all the meaning to the words ‘picture window’. And what a pretty picture it would be. Thankfully it is late, but East Nashville doesn’t sleep, so the chance is never zero.

As he hits that spot inside, you moan his name. With a few more thrusts he is getting close, you can tell by the movement of his hips. You can feel your walls contracting around him in return.

“Cum for me angel, let everyone see how pretty you are when you cum for me. Show them who you belong to.” he says.

You toss your head back as your release washes over you, leaving you shaking beneath him. His name pouring from your lips like the sweet Italian wine.

With one more thrust he is releasing into you, with forceful grunts. “Fuck….” he breathes out.

He pulls out of you, watching his release drip down your leg. “So fucking perfect. I love you so much.” 

You stand and make your way to the bathroom as you tell him you love him too.

You clean yourself up and return to him, laying there still breathing heavily. The glint of the silver metal around his neck reflects on his chest with the rise and fall of each breath. You cuddle up next to him as he turns off his lamp and releases a relaxed sigh. As you both lay there in the darkness you whisper, “Jake?” 

“Yeah baby…” he replies.

“I love where you put the mirror.” you say.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “Me too, baby. Me too.”

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tiny tiny taglist: @gretavansara @jordierama @starshine-wagner @gretavanfvckface @gretavanmoon @gvfjess @misshunnybee @fretaganvleet @gvfpal @joshkiszkas @ascendingtostardust @raviolilegs

[maximilliansblog]

How to build your first fursuit head for ~$100 USD (2023)

What’s good furries? I’m sure a lot of you have a fursona and want to make your first fursuit. I recommend starting with a partial just in case you mess up or fall out of the hobby. It’s also less expensive!

This tutorial will only cover the head. I haven’t made any of the other stuff and I’m probably going to buy it online premade because I’m lazy.

1.) Have a reference sheet for your fursona.

If you are an artist, draw (the best you can) a reference sheet of your fursona from the front, side, and back. I made a little turnaround animation for mine, but this is not necessary.

Not an artist? Don’t want to draw? Commission someone to do it for you. I recommend Etsy, but you can find furry artists with open commissions all over the internet.

No money for commissions? You might be out of luck. Ask a friend or draw it the best you can. Alternatively, you can edit someone else’s fursona reference sheet to make it look like your fursona. Yeah, it’s stealing. Just don’t post it and act like it’s yours 👍

You can also go into the Roblox game, Catalogue Avatar Creator, and assemble something that looks kind of like your fursona. Take a screenshot of it from the front, side, and back, then go into a photo editor (I recommend IbisPaint or MediBang Paint, they are both free) and add in your special details.

I recommend not making your first fursuit super complicated or some kind of rare species. But you do you. It will just be really hard.

Also determine what style of fursuit you want. Toony? Kemono? Realistic? (I don’t recommend realistic for your first fursuit but you do you). This will be important later.

2.) Find Shit to Build It With

Once again, I recommend Etsy. You’ll need:

+ all the fur colors you need (try 2-3)

+ eye mesh

+ 3D printed mask

+ hot glue gun and hot glue sticks (dollar store)

+ needle and thread (dollar store or Walmart)

+ balaclava

+ styrofoam head

+ fabric scissors

+ extra foam pieces for ears or horns

Assemble all of that. It should be around $80-120 USD.

Your 3D printed mask is the most important thing. Another reason to get a relatively common species. Mine was a dragon. Remember the fursuit style you picked earlier? Search on etsy “3d printed [style] [species] furry mask” and you should be able to find one. You can also get pre-made foam heads. I don’t recommend trying to make your own head base, because A) it’s hard and B) those materials cost more money.

This shit will take a while to come in so don’t get too excited about it. My mask took like a month because it came from Germany.

3.) Mark the Color Spots on your Head Base

Basically just take a sharpie and outline the different color regions on your headbase. You can also use a pencil if you’re a pussy /j

4.) Uhhhh Eyeball That Fabric Pattern and Hot Glue the Pieces to Your Headbase

Some people use duct tape to make a pattern. That did not work for me! So I eyeballed it. Made some mistakes. That’s okay.

5.) Trim Down the Fur Length

Most people use clippers for this but I didn’t want to buy any and I didn’t know how to use them so I did it VERY CAREFULLY with scissors.

6.) Fill in the Cracks Between Your Hot Glue Seams With Loose Fur

Look at all this damn fur on the floor! If only there was something to do with it!

Put hot glue between the super visible seams where you hotglued different pieces of fabric next to each other, then pack in some of that loose fur. Cut it down if it’s too long. The seams will be less visible.

7.) Hot Glue the Eye Mesh Behind the Eye Holes

VERY CAREFULLY hot glue this so your character isn’t cross-eyed. You can try follow-me eyes but I didn’t do that with mine.

8.) Add Your Extra Details

You know like whiskers or plastic teeth or a tongue or anything else you want to put on there.

Now you’re done with the mask part.

9.) CAREFULLY Hot Glue Your Balaclava to the Inside of the Mask

The eye hole should be where your eye mesh is so that you can see out. Also make sure some of the balaclava is glued to the top of the mask.

10.) Weigh Down Your Styrofoam Head With a Heavy Rock

Or put it on a stand. Or hot glue it to the table. Whatever works.

11.) Put the Balaclava that you Glued to the Mask on the Styrofoam Head

Pretty simple. The reason we weighed down the styrofoam head is because the front of your mask will be heavy and make it fall over while you’re trying to work.

12.) ????? Put Fur On the Balaclava

You’ll also need to like add some fur connecting the sides of the mask to the balaclava. Hard to explain. You’ll probably figure it out?

13.) Trim that Fur and Put the Trimmings in the Seams Like Before

14.) Take it off of the Styrofoam Head

You may need to cut a slit in the back of the neck of your fursuit head. Not only will it help get the styrofoam head out, now your head can get in and out too!

15.) Put it on

Edit it if something is wrong. It might feel crooked but it’s probably not.

16.) Enjoy!

Hopefully this was helpful! This is how made mine.

[surely-galena]

The thing about there being five main members on the NXX Investigation Team is that they could all plausibly be on a Stellis version of Taskmaster. Here's how I think things would go:

[WC: 0.9K]

What they would be hilariously good at:

Luke: Any physical task. Whether it's kicking something, throwing something, or anything else that requires more physical effort. Plus, because he's a detective, I think he would also find the secret answers (e.g. the receipt in the series 11 "guess what's in the batter" task, "debajo de la mesa" in series 2, the light switch in the series 5 "paint a rainbow in the dark" task) but he'd only use them "correctly" half the time (e.g. the hose in series 15).

Artem: Thinking-based tasks and also putting in a lot of genuine effort. I think he'd be a lot like Joe Thomas in series 8 because spending over twenty minutes trying to erase an eraser while three other contestants find a quicker way to dispose of it seems like something Artem would do, and Artem would also know vaguely useful trivia things and be able to recite poetry unprompted.

Vyn: Processing the absurdity. I think he'd be like a much more deadpan version of Mike Wozniak in series 11, by which I mean he would do all of the tasks as if they are normal, everyday chores. Cover your lower half in biodegradable clingfilm and duct tape? Sure, whatever. Find out how many sides an object has while blindfolded and only using your face? Not surprising in the slightest.

Marius: Any art task. In fact, everyone should be afraid if they're going up against him in an art task. Because only the people closest to him know about his art skills, I think the audience would be fairly surprised to learn how proficient he actually is. He's going to impress them all!!

MC/Rosa: Anything to do with acting (based on her previous theater experience). This is because I would love for her to have some great stage moments (e.g. Susan Wokoma and the holding a pineapple vs. not holding a pineapple task in series 16, the bricks vs. balloons suitcase task in CoC2) and also a lot of fun with any film-based tasks.

What they would be hilariously bad at:

Luke: Processing the absurdity. I think Luke would be baffled by some of the most ridiculous tasks, and be even more confused if it's a food-based task (e.g. make the best edible dust, make an edible mask and then wear the edible mask). He'd manage to get things done, but he would be very confused throughout.

Artem: Any art task. He might be able to get away with some pieces by claiming they're abstract, but as a whole I think he would not do very well with drawing/painting things.

Vyn: Any mechanical task. Like, make a machine to do X thing? He's going to be stuck thinking for a bit and then resort to something really simple and unfortunately ineffective at the last second.

Marius: Being too eager to get started that he doesn't completely process the task and either a) gets disqualified for doing something the task had said not to do or b) gives himself a disadvantage for tasks that say "you have to use the first thing you touch to do the task". Sometimes, surprisingly, he makes do with the disadvantage. Other times (while he's doing terribly), he's giggling to himself over how he should have finished reading the task before selecting his chosen object.

MC/Rosa: Anything that requires too many things to happen at the same time. Like "make all these things pop very closely to each other" or "have all these things be done when the timer reaches zero". Even though she's used to having to do a lot at once, it's still very overwhelming when the combination of simultaneous tasks is utterly ridiculous.

Other thoughts:

Teams being divided by scheduling plausibly means that Artem and MC could be grouped together. Because everyone's schedules are flexible to a certain extent, I think I would make the teams Marius & Luke (because they already work well enough together, and because they would be entertainingly chaotic) and then Artem & MC & Vyn (which would make MC the peacemaker if Artem and Vyn start bickering about anything). This is also because I want Marius and Luke to have an "I'm Always Seeing You (Do Cool Stuff)" victory moment.

If we're picking from the existing ToT character lineup, I think Vincent would make for a fantastic Taskmaster's Assistant. His softer personality would make it so much more unexpected whenever he comes up with a good quip.

The person who puts the most effort into the prize tasks is Marius. It doesn't always work out for him, but he would totally steal from the Taskmaster / Taskmaster's Assistant or put together something really impressive just for the chance of getting five points.

I think each and every one of the NXX Investigation Team is fully capable of having at least one lateral thinking moment. Whether it works out or not, though, is probably a different story depending on the person.

You know the "find out what's in the case" task in CoC1? Vyn would solve the math problem to find the code. Artem would count the rice. MC would find the code on the other end of the table. Marius would guess what was inside the case correctly without opening it. And Luke would take a hammer and destroy the case, thus getting it open and effectively bypassing the code.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 7

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | AO3 | playlist

this is the last chap of my steddie week fic!! i have a little blurb i may do for tomorrow's open ended prompt, but for now, here's the last @steddie-week prompt: misunderstandings

Robin stops him as they’re herding the gremlins into their respective vehicles. You’d think that after nearly five hours of spending the four barely adults’ money would be enough time at the arcade. But no. They’re all fighting them on leaving. As if they all won’t be asleep by the time they get home.

“Once you get it done, you may want to get up early.”

“Uh..what?”

“Steve always goes for a run at like ass o’clock in the morning.” she’s speaking low and fast to try and not draw attention to them, but their normal level of volume with one another is normally 100 times louder than this, so she’s really doing the exact opposite. “If you get up early enough, you can leave it for him while he’s gone.”

“Okayokay, I got it! Now stop making this weird.”

She looks around to find Steve already staring at the two of them questioningly.

“Oh shit… OKAY, YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR DATE EDDIE.” she practically yells.

“What the hell, Robin? I don’t have a date!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great!” she’s walking away already, shrugging like even she doesn’t know why the fuck she said that. “Call me when you’re home!”

Eddie smacks his palm against his forehead and turns to his van, not even daring to look at Steve again.

He finally does dare once he’s in his van and has started moving, giving Steve a ‘nothing wrong or weird here’ wave as he pulls away.

The expression on Steve’s face is indiscernible. Somewhere stuck between totally blank, and the most devastated look he’s ever seen.

Damnit, Robin.

He only ended up with Max in his van on the way back, so when they get back, he helps her inside, and resigns himself to staying up all night to finish the tape.

He pulls in next to Wayne’s truck at the same time his uncle is coming out the front door, a dufflebag in hand. 

“You off to work early old man?” and he asks as he gets out of his van, it’s only about 9 PM now and his uncle doesn’t usually go in until near midnight. 

“Yep, gettin’ some dinner with the fellas before we head in. Gotta leave shift early to go visit yer aunt.”

Ah. “That time of year is it?”

“Yep, I’ll see ya tomorrow evenin’, son. Don’t be getting into any trouble, y’hear?”

Eddie just shrugs. “You know me.”

“That’s exactly my point.” Wayne says with a crinkly smirk.

He gives his uncle a short hug, and Wayne kisses the top of his head with another ‘be safe’.

Then, because he’s agonizing about it, Eddie spends the next couple hours cleaning the trailer instead of picking the last two songs that will go on his side (listening to said tape while he does).

He’s still got some ideas from before, but only a couple good ones..and not all of them will fit in the time he’s estimated is left on the B side.

It isn’t until he gets to Be My Baby on his second listen through that he knows which one he’s going to add next.

After he’s got that one figured out and recorded, there definitely isn’t enough room left for the rest of the picks, so he adds the one he thinks says the most about how he feels about Steve, the one that says everything he needs to say.

-----

“Robin did say ‘ass o’clock’,” Eddie says to himself, glancing at the clock in his dashboard.

5:13. Yeah, that sounds right.

Eddie lets out a huge cracking yawn. Okay, he’s definitely gonna crash once he gets back to the trailer. He was so wired after finally finishing the tape, he couldn’t sleep even though he wanted to.

He makes it to Steve's street and parks up the road a bit (not wanting the rattle of his van to alert Steve to his presence if he hadn’t left yet), and walks the last leg. The tape in his pocket feels like it weighs a million pounds.

When he finally rounds the bushes at the front edge of Steve’s yard, Eddie feels every cell in his body seize up at once.

Nancy’s car is in the driveway.

What the–

Suddenly, the front door opens. He dives back behind the bushes, peeking through the leaves. You know, like a sane person?

Why the fuck is Nancy leaving Steve's house so early

Why is Steve only wearing those tiny fuckin’ shorts?

Oh no..

Oh shit.

There’s only one fucking reason

This is all wrong! Nancy knows he has feelings for Steve, was that not what that was at the arcade?

She’s with Robin, she didn’t refute it.

Oh fuck, he’s gonna have to tell Robin.

Eddie debates making himself known, let himself barrel over whatever awkwardness may arise, but he’s still got his heart in his pocket, addressed to Steve.. What’s he supposed to do with that then?

“Oh hey Steve, didn’t see you there! Just came by to drop off your very personal property that your best friend stole for me to defile! Nancy? Oh hey, you’re here! What’s up with tha–”

He’s startled out of his thoughts when the door of Nancy's station wagon shuts, the engine turning over. 

She pulls out, thankfully heading away from where he’s hidden.

Eddie watches until she’s out of sight, then jumps again when he hears Steve’s front door close.

Steve does a few hops in place from foot to foot on his front stoop (still shirtless), and starts off on his run the same way Nancy had gone. Had he been able to see shirtless, sweaty Steve whenever he wanted?? He just goes for runs like this every day? Why had no one told him??

‘Oh fuckin’ hell, shut up, shutup!!’ He yells at himself.

Now what?

Eddie sits in the grass in Steve Harrington’s front yard and stares at the back of his mailbox.

Does he still leave the tape? Of course he should, it is Steve’s tape afterall.

But what about the songs? Steve’s not gonna want his bullshit now…

He could go back to his van and re-write the note then come back and leave it. No, he wouldn’t have time now, Steve’s athletic, yeah, but Eddie’s been frozen in his front yard for a while now. He’d be back soon.

Fuck it. 

He’ll drop the tape on the front step, go back home and pack up his shit. Yeah. Good a time as any to get the fuck outta here.

Confessing your feelings to one of your closest friends who very obviously just got back together with his ex not even ten hours after you’d seen him and were very obviously flirting with each other?

Yeah. Not ideal.

Does he have the funds to get the fuck outta here? No. But he’s got enough for gas and he’s got a van. He’ll just load his mattress into the back and be gone before the rest of the town fully wakes up.

Good plan, Eddie’s brain. Thank you, rest of Eddie.

-------

Steve slows to a jog once he can see his house, cooling down from his run on the last little bit of his road, and stopping in his driveway to do some stretches back to the door.

He’s sinking down into his last lunge when he sees the little square of…something…sitting on the front step.

“The hell?”

He stoops down and picks it up, turns it over. There’s a piece of lined paper rubber banded around it.

Peeling off the band, Steve steps inside and unfolds the letter, leaning back on the now closed front door to read

“...oh no…” Steve looks down at the case in his hand. Now he sees why the rubberband was necessary, there’s another folded wad of papers shoved into the cassette’s case, now popped open without the band holding it together.

His heart, previously calmed down from his run, now beat wildly in his chest as he unfurls the short stack of paper.

He reads the first line, ‘8. I Was Made For Lovin’ You...’

“Holy shit.”

Steve books it up the stairs, he’s gotta get showered, he’s gotta get changed, he’s got one more song to add to the tape.

-------

Eddie’s just finished packing up his clothes when his alarm clock radio goes off, the 7am alarm still set for when he has to get up for school.

“...still don’t believe it, he was just leaving OH there must be some misunderstanding! There must be some kind of mistake…” blasts through the tinny speakers.

Nopenopenope, not dealing with that right now.

He slaps the clock around until it finally shuts off its maniacal teasing, and goes back to packing (and blinking away some wayward tears).

He’s just dropped the second bag of clothes and his sweetheart in her case by the front door and is contemplating if his mattress would actually fit in the back of his van, when there’s a knock on the door.

Eddie’s gut freezes mid-flip.

Oh no. Please n–

“Eddie, are you there? It’s Steve. Can I come in?”

‘Don’t move. Don’t make a single sound. Maybe he’ll think you’re not home and just leave.’

“C’mon man, I know you’re in there. You’re van’s out here.”

“Shit.”

Eddie trudges his way to the front door and opens it.

Even with floppy, just-washed, hair and an inside-out polo, Steve’s still the most beautiful person in existence.

“What do you want, Steve?” Wow. Even he’s surprised at how morose he sounds.

“I uh, I got your tape..my tape? I got your note. I added one more song and I thought, maybe, I could–” Steve looks down. “Are you..” his voice pitches high so he clears it. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Mhm.” Eddie can’t look him in the eye. He stares at the porch.

“Where are you–”

“Just going, ‘kay Steve? No need to worry about me being around anymore.” Eddie practically spits, still not looking up at his friend.

“Eddie, what are you–” he cuts himself off, his voice going soft. “Did you not mean what you said?”

That makes Eddie look up at him. Steve’s gaze is now cast downwards, staring blankly at Eddie’s packed bags.

“...I meant every word. Every song, Steve. But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he’s truly mad now, who does he think he is, trying to act all glum like he wasn’t the one betraying his best friend.

“B-betraying my best–Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?”

Damn! He said that out loud.

“Just go away, Steve. I won’t tell Robin, but you definitely should.” Eddie moves to close the front door and turns back towards his room. He doesn’t hear it close, but he hears the creak of the floor when Steve follows him in.

Of. Course.

“Tell Robin what, Eddie? I already told her how I felt about you, that’s why she stole you the tape in the first plac–”

“Not that! You–” Eddie clenches his fists at his sides and spins back to face Steve. “That you hooked up with her girlfriend last night.” Steve’s face pales and Eddie continues on. “Yeah. I came by to drop off your tape; Robin thought I could leave it there when you left for your run. But lo and behold, what do I see when I come by? Nancy Wheeler’s car in your driveway at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Now, I may be a third time senior, but even I know what the fuck that means. Especially when, not long after I’ve gotten there, the Lady Wheeler herself waltzes out the door with Tiny Shorts McGee following her like a lost puppy.” he gestures at Steve, who’s still frozen in place by the door.

“So yeah, you can just burn those notes for all I care, I don’t even know why I still left it. Whatever. I’m leaving today anyway so you don’t need to worry about me pining hopelessly after you, ‘kay?”

Eddie’s chest is heaving, his eyes are burning with unshed tears, and Steve…starts laughing.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” There are tears spilling freely out of his eyes now. “You’re really good y’know, had everyone fooled. Even me! King Steve is alive and well, everyone!” Eddie spreads his hands wide and yells to no one.” I can’t believe you got me to fall for your good guy schtick. Get the fuck outta my house, Harrington.” Eddie points to the door, stalking forward.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.” Steve puts his hands out and Eddie stops, crossing his arms and glaring. “Eddie, please, Nancy was only dropping something off for me.”

“Yeah righ–”

“She was! She came by that early because she’s driving to an interview this morning at a paper in Indy. She knew I’d be up for my run anyway, so she stopped to give me the revisions she made to my–you know what, hold on. I’m calling Robin.”

“Steve, I told you to get the fuck out of my house, not go further into it.”

Steve ignores him and goes to the phone, giving Eddie as wide of a berth as he can while he passes. He picks it up and dials.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Harrington, get the fuck out of here–” Eddie’s anger is multiplied tenfold when Steve holds out a finger to shush him.

“Hi Mr. Buckley, this is Steve. I’m sorry to call so early, but can I please speak to Robin? There was a last minute change to our schedule…thank you.’

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from his customer service expression, to an admittedly frightening pissed off smile when Robin apparently gets on the line.

“Hey Robin! I found my Eddie tape! It’s the funniest thing, I came back from my run and it was sitting on my doorstep.”

Eddie can hear the muffled sound of Robin’s voice coming through the earpiece.

“I know, isn’t that crazy?” Damn, Steve’s passive aggressive voice is…something else. “He must’ve dropped it off while I was gone..why wouldn’t he give it to me in person?”

Steve waves at Eddie to come closer, and when he stubbornly doesn’t, Steve rolls his eyes and comes to him, stretching the cord across the kitchen as he does.

“Hmmm...maybe.. Or maybe something scared him off?” He takes in an over-dramatic sarcastic gasp. “Or maybe, my best friend and soulmate who stole the tape for him, told him to come by at the exact worst time! When she knew a certain ex of mine and current girlfriend of hers was stopping by before leaving to Indy and it scared him off!”

Steve tilts the handset out from his ear so Eddie can hear..there’s complete silence on the other end.

“That would suck, don't you think? Seeing your crush’s ex leaving their house early in the morning when you’re coming over to confess to them?” He continues.

“Oh. My. God. Steve!! I am so so sorry I–”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Eddie.”

Steve grabs up Eddie’s hand and wraps it around the handset, forcing him to take it, then stomps off into the living room.

Eddie puts the phone to his ear and walks back to the receiver, Robin rambling in his ear the whole way. 

“--ddie, I’m so so sorry! I totally forgot Nancy was dropping off Steve’s paper this morning before she went to her interview! Please please don’t be mad at me, actually, scratch that. Be super mad at me, but definitely not at Steve, okay? I should have remembered, I should have told you, I should hav–”

It’s effective, he feels the anger draining out of him. “Robin, Robin! It’s okay, you’re okay.” Eddie glances over at Steve, who’s pacing up and down the short length of the trailer’s living room. “But now I have a very pissed off Harrington in my house right now…you got any survival tips for me?” he mumbles lowly.

“...Oh! I know, just go over there and kiss hi–her–stupid!” Eddie snorts through his nose, her parents must still be nearby.

“Got it, I’ll try that. Thanks Birdie…for everything.”

She sighs in relief. “You’re welcome, Doofus.”

Eddie slowly hangs up the phone, and turns to where Steve is. Now stationary, he’s got one hand on his hip, and the other is rifling through his hair nervously.

‘Yep. Buckley’s right.’

Eddie takes a deep breath and crosses to Steve in three short strides, grabs his face in both his hands, and kisses him deeply.

Steve responds immediately; he wraps one arm around Eddie’s waist, his large palm centered squarely on his lower back, and one around his arm, lacing his fingers into Eddie’s curls and cupping the back of his head.

Steve pulls their bodies flush and cants his hips into Eddie’s, tugs a breathy moan from Eddie’s throat when the hand in his curls tightens.

Eddie’s nose is pressed uncomfortably into the space between Steve’s nose and cheekbone with how close they’ve smushed themselves together, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care. 

He’s kissing Steve Harrington. 

There’s a strong thigh slotted between his, and Steve Harrington is kissing him back. 

Eddie moves one hand down to clutch at Steve’s shirt, and pushes the other back, grabbing onto those short hairs on the back of Steve’s neck.

They finally come up for air after one too many teeth clashes, their foreheads coming together.

“Hi.” they breathe out at the same time, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“We’re kinda idiots, huh?” Steve says, looking cross-eyed between Eddie’s eyes. The hazel of his eyes sparkling with the movement.

Eddie chuckles. “Dingus and Doofus, remember?” he points to each of them in turn, only lifting his pointer finger out of the grip on Steve’s shirt to do so.

“Can I play you the last song now?”

and then they low dance in eddie's living room

Yay!! that's it, thanks for following along with this one!!! here's the last tags :o) @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, @manda-panda-monium

Here's some notes since it's the last part:

this is the most I’ve ever written in such a short time, I literally wrote each of these chapters the day before their day to be posted….most of it while at work lmao

Steve used a Sony C60 tape. i.e. there’s 60-ish minutes of space on it. before At Last, the songs on the tape totaled 55 min 55 seconds, a perfect amount left for Etta James (ending up at 58 min 54 seconds in total according to my spoofy playlist).

I know that the Eddie half of songs weren’t really…’Eddie music’, but in my head, Eddie likes music for being music. All music is good (like he said to Max in part 5). Plus, he wanted to put songs on the tape that he knew Steve would like/want to listen to.

steve asked nancy to make revisions on his nursing school application essay (he found he quite liked the process of taking care of eddie and wants to go to school for it!)

anyone else just recently realize that Take Me Home Tonight had an allusion to Be My Baby?? anyway, love that, wanted to make that a thing here :o)

and lastly, a couple of little things i LOVED about this fic that i didn’t see anyone else / only a couple people point out:

Steve singing the rubber duckie song to Eddie in part 5

Eddie literally giving Gareth the shirt off his back in part 2 when Tommy threw his pop on him (in my head, this is the same red buffalo check flannel that Gareth ends up cutting the sleeves off of and wears in S4).

that's all!! thanks for reading, friends :o)

[astrowaffles]

Stopping the JNT from being arrested: a comprehensive rulebook by Iwaizumi H.

General Audiences | Chaos, attempt at humour

1. A volleyballer in prison is a volleyballer who won't be volleyballing for a long, long time.

2. If you see Sakusa and Atsumu "sharing hand sanitizer" by holding hands, say nothing.

3. Just because Kageyama always catches him does not make Hinata less banned from jumping on our setter. If either of you are injured then we are in deep trouble.

4. Just because Oikawa is in the proximity does not mean you can send out search parties to find and assassinate him. See rule 1.

 OR: Whoever's idea it was to put the entire monster generation on one team, Iwaizumi hopes both sides of their pillow are warm tonight.

The JNT Rulebook

Failure to meet these rules will result in suspension from the Japanese Men's National Volleyball Team, if you aren't arrested first.

sincerely,

Iwaizumi H.

 1. A volleyballer in prison is a volleyballer who won't be volleyballing for a long, long time. 

       a) it's no use phoning home for bail. the last time we tried that, Akaashi spent the whole two minute phone call cackling. - Bokuto

 2. If you see Sakusa and Atsumu "sharing hand sanitizer" by holding hands, say nothing.

 3. Just because Kageyama always catches him does not make Hinata any less banned from jumping on our setter. If either of you are injured then we are in deep trouble.

 4. Just because Oikawa is in the proximity does not mean you can send out search parties to find and assassinate him. See rule 1.

 5. If Hoshiumi is seen one more time with Hinata on his shoulders to "bring revenge down on the heads of everyone over 5'8"" we will be forced to tape them both to the floor.

 6. Just because Kuroo said it does not mean it is true.

         a) No, you will not jump higher if you drink out of the JVA's special water bottles.

         b) No, Kuroo is not obligated to tell the whole truth "because we're buddies". Kuroo can leave out whatever bits he likes, which is why what he says is usually Not True.

 7. Gravity is real and if it wasn't, volleyball wouldn't work. 

 8. If you continue to rickroll Kageyama he will stop opening his emails out of sheer fear, and we need him to read his official communications. Stop it.

 9. Do not trust what Kenma says. Remember he is funding Kuroo's shenanigans.

 10. If the "your mom" jokes don't stop, Suna Rintarou will be put into isolation.

         a) "your brother" and "your twin" jokes are equally unacceptable, as our reserve setter appears to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

         b) "your cousin" jokes are banned by proxy to prevent said reserve setter being murdered by Sakusa.

 11. Oikawa is trying to annoy you into revealing our strategies. If you feel you may fall into his trap, avoid him or fetch the athletic trainer (me), who will deal with him accordingly.

 12. Bokuto: one more rant about Akaashi and I will call him personally, and you can explain to him why you are slacking off at practice. 

 13. Taking pictures of Hoshiumi with a rat filter on is not funny.

 14. Throwing volleyballs is not an effective method of communication.

 15. Ridiculous service ace competitions are to be reserved for private practice. Atsumu does not need another black eye.

 16. Hinata and Kageyama are hereby banned from communicating with just eyebrow raising. It's creepy and Bokuto was very close to hiding himself in a cupboard yesterday.

         a) this also applies to talking in tandem.

         b) it also applies to finishing each other's sentences.

 17. Ushijima is the captain and if he says throwing flying squirrels out of the top floor window to "see if they actually fly" is a bad idea, then it is a bad idea.

 18. Atsumu is the reserve setter and therefore does not need be on court "in case Kageyama trips".

 19. If calling your old highschool captains is what it takes to get you to work, I will do so. 

 20. Personal questions about Oikawa are banned.

 21. Team Brazil players are banned from the Team Japan village. If I find any I will decapitate them. 

 22. Atsumu is not a tiny baby, he is 6'1''. Just because that makes him one of the smallest on the team does not make him short. Refrain from pushing him into insanity this early in the season.

 23. Arm wrestling is banned.

         a) I will always win and it is stupid to think that it will ever change. No, your lucky underwear does not make a difference, Bokuto.

 24. Either Yaku takes his voice down a notch or I take his kneecaps.

 25. If you were represented by a bird in highschool, you are hereby banned from making any important decisions.

         a) I am well aware this excludes our captain from making decisions. I stand by that.

 26. Kageyama cannot speak Italian so please stop harassing him for lessons.

 27. Eavesdropping on other teams is not banned but it is frowned upon by the Olympic committee. Don't get caught.

 28. Don't bother eavesdropping on Oikawa, it won't get us anywhere. I already know his main strategies anyway.

 29. Sakusa is a grown man, no you cannot adopt him.

 30. Meian Shugo is a lovely man who will not appreciate being dragged out to Tokyo. Jackals, keep your chaos away from me.

 31. One more heavy sigh from Komori will push me off the edge. Shut it.

 32. It scares everyone shitless when they hear high-pitched screams in the middle of the night. Someone buy Sakusa some pesticide.

         a) Bokuto you are not scared of spiders, there is no need for you to scream too.

 34. I appreciate that we have an A team and a B team, but we are all Team Japan, so the expressions "bench warmer", "loser", "second place", "spare parts" and "extra Kageyama" are all banned.

         a) no-one seems to care that we have two liberos as well as two setters. Targeting Atsumu is not tolerated. Keep it in your heads.

         b) yes, that includes Sakusa. He does not have a "bullying Atsumu pass", no matter what he says.

 35. Bringing a tape measure to games so you can find out who's the tallest person in the room and then attempting to fight them is definitely frowned upon. I am assigning Ushijima to guard Hoshiumi.

 36. I am well aware that Sakusa is MSBY's guard dog. Luckily the JNT is full of terrifying men over 6'0'', so he can stop growling whenever an "enemy" walks past.

 37. Speaking of height, Kageyama is far too big to be racing around gyms. In fact, so are all of you. Hinata, stop encouraging it.

 38. Barking at Team Argentina is not acceptable behaviour. It can actually be filed as a hate crime.

 39. Ushijima is the team ace. It is irrelevant if Sakusa was #1 ace in highschool or not.

         a) I would also take the complaints a lot more seriously if they were actually from anyone except Atsumu.

 40. Being gay does not provide legal protection.

         a) You cannot report a hate crime if the "hate crime" is Oikawa's existence.

         b) even if you could, Oikawa is also gay.

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 ao3

Eddie helps Steve upstairs, lets him go in the bathroom first. By the time Eddie has gone in there himself, has finished brushing his teeth… he overhears Steve on the phone in his bedroom.

Eddie pauses. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing, but he might not have been able to catch it under the sound of running water. He will never know who called first.

Then he wonders why that even matters so much—or more, what kind of difference it would make. Whether it makes a difference at all.

He doesn’t know whether to leave Steve to it, but his gut tells him to follow the sound of Steve’s voice.

Steve is sat on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. His hands are in his lap; he’s pinching at the skin just before his thumb again. Pinching hard.

“No, no, I’m good. Yeah, the… no, the news must’ve exaggerated, mom. Well, a window broke here, but… yeah, lucky escape, right?”

He lies so easily, lies with a smile… even while he’s crying.

Eddie thinks that if he closed his eyes and just listened, he might never have known. Steve’s tears are perfectly silent, his voice steady. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Hey, mom?” And Steve’s breathing hitches just once. Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who can really hear it. “Thanks for the tapes.” He laughs, voice wavering for only a second. “Just came into my head, that was all. Thought I’d better say.” He swallows. “Love you, too.”

It’s only once he’s hung up that Steve allows himself to let go, and even then he’s quiet—passing a hand roughly over his eyes, sniffling very occasionally. Then he looks over at Eddie, left frozen in the doorway.

“They don’t know, okay? I don’t want you thinking…” Steve sighs. “I changed my emergency contacts ages ago. Hopper, Joyce, Robin—hell, I even put Claudia down ‘cause Dustin’s a nosey little shit and I know he’d pick up. It’s… easier this way,” he says.

And Eddie suspects that while Steve’s ostensibly talking about The Upside Down stuff, he also means something more.

Eddie thinks of Wayne, of how easy he makes everything—how all he said was Try me in the hotel room, right before his understanding of the world was changed forever. How Eddie has never, not once, had to doubt his love.

Steve wipes perfunctorily at his eyes then reaches for his crutches.

“Come downstairs with me? I wanna show you something.”

-

Steve directs Eddie to a video tucked behind the musicals collection. Eddie puts it in to play before taking a look at the cover.

Simon and Garfunkel - The Concert in Central Park.

“You educating me on more music, Steve?”

But instead of taking the opportunity to make a joke, Steve hesitates. “Yeah… if you like.”

Another pause, like he’s readying himself, lining up to the edge of a diving board.

Steve breathes in and out. Nods at the screen. “September 19th, ‘81. I was there. And I, um…” His hand briefly rubs over his sternum, like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it, then taps more deliberately on his temple. “I ran there, too.”

Eddie’s breath catches at the implication.

“Worked for a bit, too. But it was—everything was hard to, like, hold onto. Like water slipping through your fingers kinda thing.”

Eddie nods. Clears his throat. “You don’t have to… to say, but. Why were you in New York? Late vacation?”

Steve winces, clearly tries to cover it up.

But Eddie sees. He sighs and closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re—” Steve shakes his head, laughs a bit. “No, you’re not. How were you s’posed to…? No, not a vacation. My Grandpa, on my mom’s side—he lived in New York. And, um… my Grandma, she died a couple of months before, so my mom was already… struggling. And then, when he died, she… there was a lot left for to do, I think. I don’t remember what—just that she was left trying to clean his big house, and my dad was being an asshole, and her brother—my uncle—he might as well have not been there. So she booked a hotel room for me, just so I wasn’t caught up in the screaming match and stuff, y’know? And that day, I just kinda… wandered.”

Eddie can picture it: Steve, a little lost, perhaps, while trying to appear anything but. A boy trying to be a man.

“And I saw whole groups of people heading to the park, so I asked about it. The concert was free, so…” Steve looks off to the side, sighing. “And I just thought… they were my mom’s favourite, y’know?” His voice goes just slightly higher in pitch, strained with emotion, like he’s that kid all over again, unable to solve his mother’s problems. “Her favourite, and she couldn’t even go see them ‘cause it… it was just so shitty. Shitty situation all round. Figured I might as well see them for her. Like that could make things better. Sounds stupid out loud, but…”

“No,” Eddie says, “it doesn’t.”

Steve’s mouth ticks upwards in brief acknowledgment. “It rained while we were waiting, off and on. But, man, I got a great view. There were these two girls—God, they seemed so much older to me at the time, but they were probably only mid-twenties or something. Anyway. They saw I was alone, got kinda concerned I hadn’t brought a jacket, so they gave me one, let me sit on their picnic rug.” This time, his smile has more strength behind it. “Guess they kinda babysat me, huh?”

Eddie smiles back. “Makes a change.”

I’m glad they were there. I’m glad that you weren’t alone.

Steve laughs to himself when America plays, as the lyric, “She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy,” is sung.

He answers just ahead of the words that follow, delivering them with a grin as if he’s having a conversation with someone: “I said, ‘Be careful, his bow-tie is really a camera.’” He snorts at Eddie’s questioning look, says, “At Starcourt, Dustin had me looking for Russian spies through a pair of binoculars, it was fucking ridiculous… I loved it. Anyway, he didn’t get the bow-tie reference, just went on about how ‘this isn’t James Bond, Steve, this is serious.’ What a butthead.”

And Steve laughs even more as a cover of The Everly Brothers begins: Wake Up Little Susie.

“Oh, dude, I gave Dustin so much shit with this song, you don’t even know. Told him he brought it on himself, like, don’t tell me your girlfriend from Camp Know Nothing’s name, that’s just giving me ammo.”

But as Steve imitates Dustin whining, all Eddie can think is that he’s seeing something far more than just Steve delighting in riling Dustin up. That what he’s really seeing is Steve showing how deeply he cares… How he does it so easily, so inconspicuously, as if it’s just a little thing, just I heard a song and thought of you—like he can’t help it, that’s just how he loves: his mind making connections that spread out everywhere, as large and generous as his heart.

They chat leisurely for most of the setlist, Eddie gasping when someone storms the stage during The Late Great Johnny Ace.

“Shit, I forgot that happened. And you were there, man!”

They both keep quiet all the way through Bridge over Troubled Water. Eddie’s heard the song before, but now it suddenly seems like he’s hearing it for the very first time, his throat tight. Like it’s only now that he’s truly understood it.

From the silence, maybe Steve is thinking something similar. Maybe.

The room lightens with 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.

“This one always makes me think of Robin,” Steve says, smiling as the brass kicks in, miming like she does: a little wiggle of the fingers to simulate pressing down on a trumpet’s valves.

“Thought you’re meant to be helping her find a lover, not lose one.”

Steve chuckles.

“No, I meant… like at work, if we’re arguing over who takes out the trash or whatever, I’ll call her Jack, y’know, like ‘slip out the back, Jack’? Or ‘make a new plan, Stan.’ Stuff like that.”

That’s fucking adorable, what the fuck.

Out loud, Eddie says, “Cute,” just so Steve makes that abashed sort of half-smile.

In the middle of The Boxer, Eddie briefly plays his guitar. He gets the melody down by ear—it’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, his fingers clumsily moving through the chords.

But Steve watches like he can’t notice any of the obvious stumbles made, gives a soft, awed, “Wow,” when Eddie is done. Then he adds, almost a whisper, “Was it… did you learn it like that back when…?”

Eddie pauses. Remembers hearing that faint whisper of My Little Town as his head nodded in spite of his fierce efforts to stay awake. Seeing the hint of a frown flicker across Steve’s face. The slimmest hope.

Learning Steve’s song had been unlike any other. All he had to go on, lying on the bed of that hotel room in the early hours of the morning, was that little snippet he had heard—just that, and perhaps faint memories he had no concrete hold of, ones that felt dreamlike: a snatch of Wayne humming along to it on the radio, when he couldn’t have been more than ten or so.

Eddie sang the words that he could, skipped the ones he didn’t know—prayed that it was enough; it had to be enough.

It had felt like time didn’t exist, just him and the song, slowly getting stitched together—even now, he can feel it under his fingertips, as if the notes are like splinters forever embedded in his skin. But not painful, never that, just an inevitable part of him.

Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes.

“No,” he answers softly. “It was… easier, almost. Had to be.” He smiles, a little bittersweet, as Steve’s brows knit together in thought. “Couldn’t afford any mistakes, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Sorry.”

Eddie laughs, light but disbelieving. “What the fuck for?”

Steve glances between Eddie and the guitar. “‘Cause you love playing, Eddie. And I… I don’t know, I didn’t want you to have… like, pressure? And, um… bad memories tied to it, I guess.”

Eddie shakes his head and sets the guitar aside. “Okay. You better listen close, Steve.”

Steve huffs through a smile. “Listening.”

“It’s… all of that, Steve, s’not tied to a bad memory, man, not even close. It brought you back, that’s… words can’t even fucking…” Eddie shakes his head again. “And fine, even if it had, even if I really thought after this, I can never play again, guess what? It would’ve been worth it. Fuck, I would’ve chosen it a thousand times and never regretted it. Got it?”

Steve stares at him. He blinks, and for a moment it looks like he might cry, but then he just nods, chin wobbling ever so slightly.

“Got it,” he says hoarsely.

They’ve talked right through the encore. Eddie distantly hears Paul Simon yell at the crowd, “Let's have our own fireworks!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, and Eddie can see a memory spark in his eyes.

You’re so beautiful, Steve Harrington.

“I remember this. They were gonna use, uh, pyrotechnics but they weren’t allowed, so—look, see how everyone’s getting lighters out? I didn’t have one, but one of the girls gave me hers. And I remember…” Steve’s voice softens. “It was dark, and when I got the flame going, I just—I saw it out the corner of my eye. The girls, they were holding hands on the rug. And like, I knew it… it wasn’t for me to… y’know, and I didn’t say anything obviously. I didn’t really know what to… what I was feeling, right?” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Fucking rare for me to know anything about what I was thinking, back then. I was kind of an idiot. More than.”

Eddie says, gently, “I dunno, Steve. If you ask me, being a kid isn’t the same thing as being an idiot.”

Steve hums, tilts his hand back and forth as if to say debatable. “God, I talk a lot. Didn’t plan on… guess I just.” He shrugs. “Guess I just wanna tell you things.”

“Fine by me,” Eddie says. “I like listening.”

I always like listening to you. Tell me everything, if you want. I’ll be here.

There’s another shot of the crowd on screen, and Eddie crawls forward as he asks, “Where were you?”

“It’s too dark to see, man.”

“Try me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think I haven’t tried to find myself already? Ugh, fine, fine. We were kinda near the front, so…” He thinks, clicking his tongue, then points to just a few rows back from the stage, near the far-left of the screen. “Thereabouts.”

Eddie follows Steve’s direction, presses a fingertip there. Feels the warm static of the screen. And though he can’t really see anything, doesn’t even know if Steve is right with his guess or not, it’s like he can sense it anyway; he doesn’t need proof. Like he’s reaching back in time to a boy from five years ago, and he thinks…

Hey, Steve Harrington. The world’s gonna get… fucking crazy for you soon, but it’ll be fine in the end, trust me. You’re one of the bravest people I know. You’re gonna be okay.

During the final encore, Steve inhales like he’s about to say something, but he yawns instead—covers his mouth with the back of his hand a beat too late, like it’s caught him by surprise.

“Mm, sorry. Used to put this on when I couldn’t sleep. Guess it still works.”

Eddie looks over at him, at how his eyes are drowsy, like a child lulled by the gentle rocking of a car journey. Feels his heart give a little twist at the sight.

He ejects the tape, turns off the T.V. When he turns back, he sees that Steve has made room for him on the couch without saying anything about it.

Eddie slips over the arm of the couch, nestles in so smoothly that the couch barely sags at all, so Steve’s leg won’t be bumped; it comes so naturally now, the two of them slotting together like the easiest jigsaw puzzle in the world.

There’s a short silence, and then Eddie speaks in an undertone, just in case Steve has already fallen asleep.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Your, uh… your song. It didn’t play at that concert.”

He glances over, catches Steve’s fleeting grin, as if he’s thinking well spotted.

“Good, um, what is it Henderson says, in D&D? Good perception thingy.”

Eddie laughs in surprise. “Sure, something like that.”

Steve smiles at him. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable, more honeyed. Slow.

And Eddie feels a warmth atop his hand: Steve’s fingers overlapping with his. For a moment, he thinks it’s just an accidental brush, but then Steve doesn’t move away.

And neither does he.

Steve sighs. Squeezes Eddie’s hand, like he’s trying to reassure him of something, but for the life of him Eddie can’t work out what it is—just knows that Steve looks almost sad, and he wishes he wouldn’t. It’s breaking his heart.

“I just… I need some more time.” There’s something in Steve’s eyes that’s so vulnerable, suddenly. “Is that… is that okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eddie says immediately, because nothing would stop him from saying so, even as his mind whirs in thought. “Don’t need to ask, Steve. Yes.”

Steve smiles, squeezes his hand again. Eddie can hear what he means this time: Thank you.

“Think I’m gonna fall asleep on you now,” Steve says with another long yawn.

“That’s fine. I’m kinda used to it,” Eddie says, letting out a huff of amusement when Steve mock glares at him through heavy eyes, fighting to keep them open.

“Shut up. Can’t help it.”

“Oh, so I am boring?”

“No. Told you b’fore. No.”

Eddie slowly reaches out—smiles when Steve’s eyes close before his hand even touches his forehead.

“What, then?” he asks quietly.

Steve hums. Sighs again. “You want the… all cards on the table kinda answer?”

Eddie breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out as silently as he can. Feels Steve’s hand still on his, fingers trailing over his knuckles, slowing as sleep approaches.

“Only if—if that’s what you want, too, then… yeah?”

Steve smiles. “Hmm, ‘kay. Here it comes.” His breathing deepens, and for a moment Eddie thinks that he’s already drifted off, but then Steve says, “I really… really like you, Eddie. You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s nose stings. Shit, he might be on the verge of crying. He bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

And the thing is, he knows he’s said it before. But it feels different now—feels louder, somehow, even though he’s only whispered it. Because Steve isn’t asleep, not yet. Eddie knows that he’s heard.

Steve’s finger taps softly on the back of Eddie’s hand, spaced out slowly. Three times. Like heartbeats.

“Mm. R’lax, Eddie. Don’t need to… stop yourself.”

“…Stop?” Eddie asks, voice small.

“Been called worse things, y’know?” A yawn, almost silent. Slow and sweet. “I don’t mind it.”

A minute, maybe more. And then Steve falls asleep just like that, looking so…

So peaceful.

“You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s eyelashes are wet.

Here it comes, he thinks. It’s like the tide coming in.

Here it comes.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs.

He says it even though he knows Steve is sleeping, says it right through the inevitable aching of his heart.