#all the kids gunned down in schools? nah

[tvmusiclife]

tiktok ban proves one thing, your american politicians aways have the ability to DO something, but they all choose NOT to

[ghostly-bat]

what do u think about jondami becoming "parents" raising a "baby "for a school project basically the same with lizzie but with damian crying to dick that hes slowing turning into his mother after jon not showing interest in a fake preschool scenario for the baby because jon claims that he wasnt trained by the best of the best and he turned out ok who do u think in the batfam would get mad at jon over their fake baby

Damian: Jon you don't understand our child needs to be prepared to handle any oncoming threats

Jon is spent, they've been at this for at least 3 hours

Jon: Damian... the question was how would you teach our child how to handle conflict, not how to round house kick another preschooler

Damian: All I'm saying is, is that our child is going to be taught by the best of the best not only in physical training but education and the arts—

Jon: Arts and education I can get behind but our child doesn't need to know how to wield a sword! Look I wasn't taught by the best of the best and I turned out just fine

Damian:

Jon:

Damian:

Jon: Stop it

-At least a day later-

Damian: Grayson I need your help! I'm afraid I'm turning into my mother

Dick, who was peacefully eating his cereal before Damian decided to bust into his apartment:

Dick: I mean you're already staring to look like her what else could there be?

Damian: Jon doesn't seem to understand or care that I just want the best for our child! And that includes how to know to take down an opponent in case Jon and or me are unavailable!

Dick:...Go on...

-Later that exact same day-

Dick: So you're telling me that you don't think it's beneficial for my niece and or nephew to know how to properly disarm a threat?

Jon:

Jon: What???

Jason: Whoa, ok, what's all this about?

Dick: Jon doesn't seem to care that his and Damian's child is going to be completely defenseless once they get out into the real world and how it would benefit their child to at least know some basic hand to hand combat

Jason:...

Jason: Nah I don't think the kid needs to learn how to fight right away, they should however know how to use a taser or at least a stun gun. Otherwise you're just a dad that doesn't care... And you don't wanna be a dad that doesn't care now do you Jon?

Jon simply just wants to raise this baby in peace without having to be intimidated by its self-proclaimed uncles.

Tim, who's been quietly watching this whole display go down turns to Damian: Isn't your guys baby fake?... Isn't this all for some school project??

To simply answer your question anon, most likely Dick and then probably Jason lol. They do pass the class though! And while Jon reminds Damian that he does love him, he also reminds him that his family is crazy.

[tojigasm]

Sheep and Wolf

Authors note: omgg, it's been almost an entire year since I've posted a Toji fic, but here he is!! Back in the flesh, he returneth! I hope you all enjoy it!! <33

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, fluff, creampie, kissing, pet names, angst, Christopher Nolan, blood, guns, mentions of bandaging a wound, Toji being old

Toji, who calls you while you're at school, chuckling into the phone when you complain about your professors and the schoolwork you've got to finish by the end of the week.

"I'm still havin' you watch that Christopher Nolan film tonight," he teases, and you can hear his smirk on the end of the line.

"Noooo," you whine, "you're gonna torture me with your film bro shit on top of my homework?" You sigh, and you can hear him laugh, "doesn't mean the film is gonna be any better just because I'm being forced to watch it."

"Yeah, yeah, kid," tojis voice deepens some, and you find yourself smiling at the rasp of it, "now go learn something."

He can hear you giggle on the other end before the line clicks off, and he turns back to looking over folders for his next mission.

—

Toji, who rolls his eyes when you get amped up at night time. Too excited and too happy to fall asleep.

You're wiggling around under the covers until a firm hand grounds your thigh to the mattress.

"M'kay, I think that's enough." Toji warns gently, scrolling through his phone with his other hand. "It's bedtime."

Your idea of "bed time" lasts momentarily before you're shuffling yourself under the covers and wiggling about as you giggle.

You've come to learn that Toji is a very patient boyfriend, but his limits still exist in full, and they become very apparent when interfering with his usual bedtime schedule.

"Y/n," he puts his phone down to watch your hump of sheets and pillows stop at his voice, "what did i just say."

You sheepishly crawl back up to the top of the bed and go to sleep.

—

Toji, who comes back home, stumbling up the wooden stairs, scraped, torn, and bloodied.

The sound of stairs weaning under his unsteady steps pulls you from your sleep to find him slumped against the railing of the wall, pressing his hand to his side.

"Oh my god, toji!" You make your way to him, kneeling on the step above him to look him over. "What did you do, oh my god," You pull his arm over your shoulder to help him stand, and he hisses through his teeth.

"I didn't do shit, not my fault i didn't know the asshole had a fuckin' gun."

Once to the master bathroom, you sit him on the edge of the tub, peeling his shirt up to assess the bloody wound.

"Is it..?"

Toji shakes his head tiredly, waving you off to grab the rubbing alcohol from beside you.

"Nah, I fished the bullet out on the way here." He pulls the collar of his shirt into his mouth in preparation.

You scoot yourself back some to watch him pour the isopropyl over his bloody skin. This was his field anyways, you'd decided.

"Fuck!" Toji groans, throwing his head back.

Working quickly, you move back to help clean the wound with water from the tub before wrapping his stomach with guaze.

He passes out on the edge of the tub, and you stay with him until morning. It'd become a semi-regular routine in his area of work, though the first couple of times you'd been so terrified and he'd felt so bad that the next day after the event you'd have a newly wrapped present on the kitchen counter.

The presents now are that he even makes it back at all.

—

Toji, who fills you so well, you sob.

His cock stretches you open and runs along your gummy walls, thick and girth length sends a pulse of pleasure through your cunt.

"So fuckin' tight. Shit m'gettin' close." Toji groans, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Wanna have your baby," you sob, pulling at his thick raven hair.

Toji chuckles at that, pulling back some to gently cup your cheeks in his hands.

"No, y'dont." He kisses the soft of both cheeks and then your nose and then your lips. "Don't wanna be stuck with his old man forever, do you?"

You giggle through heavy tears, and he holds you tighter to him. A large hand strokes over your head as he pumps into you.

"You're doin' so good." He kisses you, pulling back to rest his forehead to your own, "you're such a good girl."

His thumb strokes your clit and the other presses your knee to the bed, holding you open.

"Sweet angel."

And when his heat fills you, you bite into his shoulder and cum. Gummy walls squeezing around his girth and pulling him in.

—

Toji, who lies with you on your balcony, whispering how much he loves you under the stars after a long week.

"No, that one is big dipper." You laugh, falling back to his chest.

"Sorry I'm not a fuckin' nerd and spend my free time drawin' magical pictures in the fuckin stars." Toji sighs.

"Hey!" You hit his chest, "they're not magical. They're literally right there." You look back up at the sky again.

"Mhm, sure."

The cool breeze of the night blankets the two of you from your shared apartment balcony. It sings and howls through the trees.

Toji's hoodie is soft and envelopes you in its warmth against him. The material thin enough for you to hear his heartbeat through his own shirt.

There's a gentle beat of silence where Toji strokes his knuckles over your cheek back and forth.

"Know I love you, right, kid?" He asks.

You nod against his chest, and you can feel him nod back.

"You're a good girl."

—

Toji, who's age, catches up to him in cruel and unkind ways.

It starts small, him squinting to read the menu print when the two of you go out. At first, you had teased him about it, and he had pushed you with a heavy eye roll.

Then it turned to squinting while watching TV and reading books and driving, so he got readers and contacts.

Sometimes, his age is ridden in late night returns to home. He hardly makes it up the stairs, and there's evidence of his hardship written into grooves in the railings and the light stripes of wood that've been bleached time and time again from his blood.

At others, it's in far more relaxed ways.

When his hair turns a salt and pepper mix that he's no longer able to trim away to ensure his youth. Rather, the white and greys start at the roots now, speckling throughout his thick raven tufts.

And sometimes, it's in the way he rolls the two of you over. Forcing you on top of him as he fills you to the brim. He holds you by the hips, helping to guide you along the length of him at your own pace.

—

Toji, who calls you, choked up on the other line, and you know he won't be coming home.

"I want you to–"

"Toji, please tell me what's going on," you sob, the sound of rain and his shaky pants fill the line.

"Goddamnit, y/n! Listen to me!" He scolds you, and you hang on the tip of every word. Relishing in the realization that it might be the last time you speak to him. The last time he speaks to you. The last time he'd ever have to calm you down, get frustrated with you.

"Toji," you weep, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Honey, I need you to listen to me." He groans on the other end. "You remember the key to the safe?"

You nod, sniffling into your arm, stifling a wale.

"Y/n?"

"Yes!" You cry.

"Good girl, good."

And it almost feels as though he's there with you. Holding you to him and whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you cry in his arms.

Almost as if you'd wake up, and everything would go back to the way it was that morning.

"I want you to take everything and call Nanami." He waits a beat, "you hear me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, yes," you cry through a shaken nod, "I'll call Nanami. I promise."

"He'll help you." He hisses, "you're gonna be okay, baby." He tries to soothe you.

"When will I see you? Are you coming with me?" You ask pitifully. As though you don't know. As though he won't lie to protect you. As though asking the question might tear the fabric of your reality and pull you back to last night when he pulled you into his arms to sleep.

There's a soft moment before he stumbles over his words, "i– you don't need to worry about me, kid." He sighs.

He lets you cry for a moment, soothing you from his end.

"M'sorry I couldn't give you that kid you wanted or half the things you deserve. You're a good girl, far too good fr'me."

"Toji, please," you sob.

"Be good fr'me, okay?"

Your hand strokes over your cheek, mimicking his late touch.

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, kid."

The line clicks.

[rowretro]

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

request by @nikipedia07 <3 I think I may hav gone a lil off track w this one but hope u love it sweetie

✧warnings: violent descriptions, yandere/toxic themes

✧synopsis: Jay is a fairly well known mafia boss around Korea. However, there is a small area where he's never been seen. An area where his enemy is hiding in, and were his beloved lives. When he first set his eyes on y/n, he didn't think about anything else but making her his, and so he decided to even put through the worst, just to make her love him the way he loves her.

✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧

It all started when he was on a mission. Of course she didn't see him but he saw her. how she hugged some kids, shielding them from the suited men gunning down some other tatted men. God he loved the look of fear in her eyes, and how adorable she was shielding the small kids. Jay nodded at the men, and they walked off, not even bothering to glance in y/n's direction. Since the day he set eyes on the angel princess, he knew she was meant to be his,

That's how Jay found himself in high school, in uniform, despite being in his twenties. He threatened the head to make sure he was in every single one of y/n's class. which meant dealing with some crazy students. "Oh my god bitch could you like shut da fuck up?" Lia said glaring at Sungchan who was just eating his Cheetos "you talking to me?" Sungchan asked as the girl rolled eyes.

"Nah bitch I was talking to the girl stroking the wall- YES YOU YOU WANKER!" Lia yelled as Y/n turned around frowning "Is this a classroom or your bedroom?! Lia language. Sungchan, put those snacks away and focus." Y/n warned as she took more notes "Damn lady you gotta chill-" Sungchan mumbled as he put his Cheetos away.

Jay glanced at Sungchan, not liking his bullshit one bit. However he bit his tongue, he didn't snap at the male and instead, stared at y/n. God when he saw his darling focus solely on teaching the students, being so patient and sweet no matter how bitchy they were, he feels so calm.

"Kay class... I'll see you after break-" y/n said with a smile as she left the room. "She has got to be one of the hottest teachers in the school" Jinyoung said as he turned to the group of boys "She's like 2 or 3 years older than us- how is she teaching?" Lia asked as the boys shrug "I mean I don't care, at least I get a nice view everytime she walks in-" Yuta says with a smirk, stretching his arms out.

Jay groaned as he stayed put in his seat. sleeping on his desk, trying to remain calm. Only 3 more minutes of this. Then his darling will come back. "Ok break ended 5 minutes ago. phones away, everyone back in your seats please," Y/n called out as the students rolled their eyes, getting back into their seat.

As y/n continued to teach, she noticed that the class weren't even trying to pay attention, all of them messing about, sleeping around, eating snacks. It was as if she wasn't even there. They didn't hear her, they didn't bother listening to her, it was like she was talking to a brick wall. Except one student, who was actively listening and taking notes. Jay.

However, the noise only got worse all of a sudden. Not the students being even more annoying, but instead they were screaming. Many ducked down and hid under their tables. "Ah fuck you have got to be fucking kidding me." Jay mumbled, getting up as he pulled a gun out, shooting the 4 enemies that had broken in to kill him. His uniform was now stained with blood as his men walked in.

"Clean the bodies I'm done with this act." Jay said as he walked up to y/n pulling her up, his arm around her waist, as her body hit his, his eyes met her panicked pair. "So fucking beautiful... and all mine. You think I sat in school again for fun? I graduated I don't even have to be here." Jay said as he carried her, out of the classroom, ignoring her kicks and screams. "OH MY GOD HE'S PARK FUCKIN JONGSEONG-" Lia screamed as she showed the search results on her phone.

"why did you even come then?..." y/n mumbled to herself, unaware that Jay heard "I needed to get close to my princess before I take her to my palace... see y/n from now you will be living the life you deserve, a husband with expensive black suits who can give you many black cards... sweetheart you need a sweetheart. Me." Jay simply said as the girl frowned.

(OK SO IM NOT HAPPY WITH THIS, I THINK I WENT OFF TRACK BUT I'LL DO A PART 2 FOR THIS IF UW)

[eyrina-avatar]

Explaining Periods to The Sullys

synopsis: reader explains what a period is to the Sully kids (with the help of kiri)

pairings: neteyam x reader implied couple(aged up), reader x sully kids + spider

genre: idk, informative??/ comedy???

author's note: you guys didn't forget about dr. max patel, right? I barely see him in anyone's writing. proofread once

warnings: mention of female bodies(?), periods, blood, slight gun mention(nothing violent), maybe a few swear words, slight suggestive comment, slight stabbing threat(threat was made as a joke- calm down guys)

word count: 1.6k words

"OOF" you rubbed your forehead as your butt had just landed on the floor.

"I'm always forgetting that my avatar form is taller than my human body" you sighed as you got up.

"This is the third time this week that you've bumped into that doorpost" Norm snickered before hitting himself on the light bulb above him that was illuminating the lab.

"Crap" he murmured, rubbing the top of his head in pain.

"Ha!" you let out in retaliation.

Spider and Lo'ak laughed at the scene unfolding while Kiri and Neteyam rolled their eyes.

"Anyways, what was it that you kids wanted from the lab?" Norm squinted at the Sully kids, weary of their intentions.

"We just wanted to see where it is that y/n does all of her experiments" Lo'ak responded as he played around with the light fixtures, flipping through some different light colors illuminating a plant.

"Whatever, just don't break anything or the top scientist with have my head for any more expenses." Norm warned

"It's alright, Norm. I'm watching them. They won't break anything. And if they do, I won't take Lo'ak hunting again." You reassured him.

"Hey, what do I have to do with that! You know if you don't teach me how to use one of those rifle thingies then I'll have to wait for my dad. And you know how that is. The last time he taught me was months ago, he's been too busy teaching Neteyam." Lo'ak side eyed his older brother.

"Pff, it's not my fault that you're not responsible enough and that dad gets nervous every time you have a gun in your hands." Neteyam shot back.

"But-"

"Then you'll just have to stop touching everything you see in the lab, Lo'ak. You see? Easy peasy. Problem solved. Then you won't break anything and I can give you your next lesson tomorrow." You patted Lo'ak's back and gave Norm a reassuring smile. 'Don't worry,' you mouthed and turned around, focusing your attention on the Sully kids.

"So, what's the plan?" you tilted your head in question.

"Well, I've gotta get a new oxygen tank for my mask and-" Spider headed for the cabinets

"SPIDER, are you for real?"

"What?" he shook his shoulder in question.

"You're still using those crappy RDA masks that need a wire and oxygen tank and all of that. I thought Norm gave you the new ones, from my research company."

"You own a company?" Max teased as raised his eyebrows at you.

"No... you know what I mean. I mean the science department that I'm part of. The new scientists that came to Pandora after your disastrous RDA was kicked out." You shot a look at the doctor.

"Really, you didn't have to go that far..."

"Oh, lighten up Max." you patted his shoulders. "Anyways, where are those new masks? Spider needs one, he's still using those outdated ones."

"Really, those old masks shouldn't even work anymore." Max shook his head and handed Spider a mask, "Here you go, kid."

"I thought Norm gave him one." Max crossed his arms while conversing.

"Nah, I guess Norm's been too distracted with the Na'vi school he took over after Grace" You shrugged.

"Yea... well, see you later guys, I have some more research to work on." he waved before walking away.

"So, Spider, let's get this thing on. All you have to do is take off all of those wires and that old mask. Next, just put this one on like you did the old one and adjust it and it should start working immediately." You helped Spider with the process while Kiri visited her mother's avatar body.

"No tank or anything?" Spider questioned.

"Nope, this has a little filter thing that automatically filters out the carbon and nitrogen inside the mask. No more heavy tank for you to use." You threw the old air tank to the disposal pile and was headed towards one of your plants before being interrupted by Lo'ak.

"Hey y/n, what's this?" Lo'ak held up a packet of pills.

"Lo'ak, put that back." Neteyam scolded before snatching the pills from his hand and placing it back on your table.

"It says, birth-control," Lo'ak scrunched his eyebrows while reading the words on the wrapper.

"Take once a day to prevent pregnancy..."Spider read aloud before putting the pills back.

"Woah..." Lo'ak and Spider let out in unison before giving you and Neteyam looks.

"Are you guys...doing ummm...having errr" Lo'ak stumbled as tried to get the words out of his mouth.

"First of all, that's none of your business! Second, those pills aren't even for my avatar body. They're for my human body, and not for what you think it is."

"Then for what?" Spider raised his eyebrows at you.

"They're for my period. But only for my human body because my avatar doesn't get periods." You sighed in having to explain periods to fifteen-year-old boys.

"What's a period?" Lo'ak asked.

"Women things." Kiri responded as she rolled her eyes at her brother's nosiness.

"And how would you know? You're a na'vi." Spider interrogated.

"Because girls talk to girls about things they don't talk to boys about. Duh." Kiri shot back.

"So, what is it?" Lo'ak waved his hands in question.

"Yea, what's a, um- a period? Isn't that the little dot that goes at the end of a sentence? At least that's what Norm taught me..." Spider trailed off.

"Yea, you're partially correct, Spider," you gave a small nod as you thought about how you were going to explain things.

"But umm.. I'm talking about a different type of period called menstruation. It's when a female human bleeds for 5-7 days straight each month." you let out as you saw Spider's and Lo'ak's faces change from curiosity to shock.

"L M F A O- Is that how you spell it? FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS STRAIGHT?? You've got to be kidding me. You don't expect us to believe that, right? I mean, sometimes Spider and I do dumb things but you don't expect us to be stupid enough to fall for that, right?" Lo'ak simply stared at you, waiting for a response.

"No, she's right. You guys could definitely learn a thing or two about humans." Neteyam rolled his eyes at his younger brother's ignorance.

"Wait, wait, wait," Spider held his arms out in shock, "You actually bleed for up to a week and don't die? How the hell do you not die?"

"And why do you bleed for that long? And from where are you bleeding?" Lo'ak pitched in.

"She's bleeds from her pu-"

"Kiri." Neteyam warned.

"What? It's true. Might as well be blunt with these two skxawngs." Kiri rolled her eyes again.

"So basically, when a human female starts getting more physically mature, sorta like coming of age.. Her body starts preparing for pregnancy every month. It basically lines the uterus and gets ready for a baby. When the body sees that there is no baby, the uterus starts shedding it's lining for about 5-7 days until it's cleaned up. The shedding comes out in blood and that's what causes the bleeding."

"..."

"What?" You cocked your head in question.

"So basically, because you didn't get knocked up, your body bleeds?" Lo'ak squints his eyes, trying to understand the information he was just given.

"What's so hard about that?" Spider shrugged.

"WH- WHAT'S SO HARD ABOUT THAT?! Are you guys kidding me or what?" You mouth drops at the nonsense you hear coming from the younger boy's mouth.

"You bimbos, it's not just bleeding. It involves many symptoms such as heavy cramping, back pain, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, mood swings, headaches, appetite changes , and more." Kiri stated as she crossed her arms.

"So the symptoms of a cold, big deal." Spider spat out, trying to minimize the severity of everything.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you just say big deal? Maybe I should put a fucking knife in your stomach to see if that's a big deal or not because that's what the cramps feel like. Or maybe, better... I should kick you in the fucking balls, right?" You lashed out at the boy in front of you.

"Damn, chill, he didn't mean it, right, Spider?"Lo'ak tried to calm the situation, "Maybe she's on her period right now..." he whispered.

"Avatars don't have periods you dingbat" Neteyam let out.

"Well maybe her human form is experiencing cramps in the link pod and so the emotions are traveling through the conscious connection and that's why she's so cranky." Spider stepped back, not trying to get on your bad side.

"..."

You only blinked in response as Kiri and Neteyam bursted out laughing.

"What in the name of eywa..."

"I've never heard so much bullshit come out of someone's mouth before." Neteyam shook his head at the human boy's imagination. "You know, y/n told me that humans usually read a big guide book before joining the avatar program... well maybe you should read one on human biology. It's only fitting since you're ehh, you know..." Neteyam trailed off.

"Ha, I'm glad I wasn't the one to say something stupid this time" Lo'ak applauded himself.

"Nah, you too Lo'ak. How about you read it with Spider so you can both giggle at the pictures and whatever shit you two happen to read" you turned away from the boys as you went back to examining the plants you were experimenting on.

"Does she really bleed from her va-" Lo'ak was cut off.

"And for a week straight..." Spider chimed in.

"Shut up!" Kiri's voice rang through your ears as you quietly giggled to yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

should I make more fics like this; reader teaching the sullys some human things? Tell me what you think!

as always, comments/reblogs are much appreciated❤

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used: #01DBFA and #01B3CC

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 2 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Yippie, part two!!

Part one

TW/CW: vomiting, gore and violence (not super descriptive, dw), reader is pregnant so obvi AFAB but no gendered descriptors, ex-cop!reader, swearing, no use of Y/N, grammar mistakes

WC: 3942

A/N: I promise it'll pick up speed :'( I'm definitely not doing an episode by episode rewrite. And Daryl and Reader will finally reunite next part, so I'm looking forward to writing that.

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

A car swerves off the road, trying to avoid scrambling pedestrians, straight towards you; you jump over the hood of a car nearby, narrowly avoiding the car as it bursts into flame. You rush back around, checking on the driver; who is nonexistent apparently, there’s nobody in there. “What the fuck!?” you breathe out, jogging over to your car and getting it started. You get the radio on, switching to the emergency channel, wishing you had your police scanner with you as you get onto the road, heading in direction to the precinct.

If there’s one place you’ll be safe it should be a police station, right? There’s at least guns for whatever the hell is going on. Sirens flash in your rearview, trying to get you to pull over--you swear, but do so anyhow. “Do you know why I--Shit! Greenie?” you recognize the voice, it’s officer Cameron. He leans into your open window pulling his sunglasses down. “Heading down to the precinct?”

“Yeah. Do you know what the hell is going on?” you ask, turning the radio down and surveying both Cameron and behind him. It’s like some sort of apocalypse, but that’s far fetched, you think.

He shakes his head, “Nah, nah; I don’t, there’s too much going on. We’re getting calls left and right, whole damn city’s going into panic.” he answers, scratching at his stereotypical cop-stache. His walkie blares, unintelligible words coming through. “Hey, be safe, get off the roads soon.”

He pats your shoulder, walking off quickly as he speeds off. That was no help at all, you knew all of that already. You groan, pulling back onto the road and getting to your destination. 

Cops are flooding in and out of the building, paramedics and firefighters all gathered there; behind you there’s black SUV’s pulling in, FBI you assume. What in the shit is going on? You sprint into the building, watching the chief dole out guns to anyone in reach, the news is blaring, radios screeching, people yelling, you can barely hear anything. “Greenie, here! Take this, and get home, youngin’. Stay safe, stay indoors.” the chief orders, shoving a glock and a few boxes of ammo into your arms and practically shoving you out the door. You flounder slightly, confused and in need of answers, opening your mouth to speak but you’re cut off, “No time to explain, too much to do, just keep that kid of yours safe.” You gape, throwing your arms in the air. In your confusion you remember Daryl, crap; Daryl, is he ok? You imagine he should be, the man can survive anything, but still. You pull out your phone and dial his number and he doesn’t answer, of course. Fucking, fuck, fuckity fuck, whatever. 

The drive back home is insane, fires and dead people--Dead people? You slam on your brakes, just barely stopping before the body in the middle of the street. You could puke; you’ve seen dead bodies, but never like this. Nothing like this is normal, the body is missing chunks from her arms and neck, like some freako cannibal case. 

The body twitches, just a cadaveric spasm (you learned that in school, you spent years looking at dead bodies, after death spasms are just remaining nerves working, it’s normal). She twitches again, and again and she’s up. You stare at the body in disgust and confusion and shock, you could've swore she was just dead. The undead reaches for you, jaws snapping at your ankles and glazed eyes staring at you. A scream garbles itself from your throat as you stagger back, nearly tripping over the car in the process. You fumble with the door handle, reaching over the center console to grab your gun; the thing manages to grab at your ankle in the time, making you kick out, trying to shake it off. 

You manage to get the gun and get two bullets into the crazed person. Bile rises in your throat as you look at the dead body, watching to see if she comes back again; thankfully she doesn’t and you can puke. You look at her, the bullet holes in her head, the rotting bite marks in her skin; it’s horrid, nothing you’ve seen before. God. 

The car ride home is intense, fires left and right, screaming people--more bitten people, you realize when you look closer at a few of them--and the radio is no help, reports of deaths, murders, and traffic jams. You pull into the parking garage for your apartment, parking in a far corner and tossing a tarp over it to hopefully keep it in better condition and out of view.

You can barely get to your apartment with all the people rushing to and fro throughout the building; some are leaving, packing their stuff into their cars, others are barricading themselves in their apartments. Fortunately you get into your apartment without being trampled, locking both the deadlock and door chain.

Rushing around your apartment is next, filling empty water jugs and bottles with water--who knows how long the water will be on--getting perishables cooked, and inventorying things like batteries, nonperishables, first-aid, anything one needs for an apocalypse.

You thank whatever god that does or doesn’t exist that you went shopping a few days ago; it was a big trip too, you were running low on pretty much everything. So, you don’t need to go try and conquer the shit show that is the shops, which were clearly being raided already. Getting the door barricaded shut was easy enough--bungee cords tied to the door handle and kitchen counter post, chair tucked under the knob (you had to learn quickly how to keep a door shut with Daryl’s old trailer, considering Merle had walked in on the two of you on multiple occasions).

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

A month passes by very slowly. You never realized how boring it could get without modernity. Normal TV stopped playing a week in, even the emergency signal stopped broadcasting after that. Phones and utilities went week two, something about needing to horde supplies for the military who started setting up camps around that time. 

You had the vague thought of going to one, figuring it’d be safe and helpful with your pregnancy, but quickly learned otherwise over the radio. Infected managed to sneak into the one closest to you, killing most people, so you dodged that bullet. Which means, you’ve just been entertaining yourself with coloring, and light workouts, reading and people watching or--Zombie watching, you suppose. 

The fire escape provides a nice safe vantage point and you pretty much see the whole town--you tried the hall one time and it was overrun, almost didn’t make it back in--and the infected roaming the streets. A few people have passed through, most of them were raiders, passerby, but some were local, those who stayed; officer Cameron stayed, your ultrasound tech, she left a few days ago though. 

You’ve been thinking of doing the same as of late. You don’t know what you’d do if you did, head back to Georgia to find Daryl? Wander until you find a safezone or hell, even just a group so you’re not alone anymore. 

Your head rests in your hands as you contemplate the risks of leaving the apartment; with the zombies flooding the halls and the unknown number of them in the parking garage and who knows what could happen on the drive. 

You roll your eyes, leaning back in the desk chair, “Fuck me, man.” you groan, running a hand down your face as you stand up from the chair, grabbing a backpack out of the closet.

You busy yourself with packing the bag precariously: a few changes of clothes, your first aid kit, a book and notebook, food and water, the few boxes of ammo you have, a knife, a lighter, and in the last bit of space you shove a sleeping bag.

“Yeah, yeah, that should be everything.” you murmur to yourself as you tuck your gun and pocket knife into your belt. 

As you get a foot out of the window something catches your eye, making you pause and hurry back inside. You take the sonogram into your hands, staring at the black and white picture before gently placing it in the side pocket before finally slipping out the window.

You curse at the creaky fire escape as a few heads turn your ways, breathing a sigh of relief as they quickly get distracted. Just to be safe, you toss the plant you had long let die onto the street, watching as the undead shuffle to the noise in hopes of a meal. It’s unsettling, the way they move like puppets on a string, but you file that to the back of your mind and make quick work of the stairs.

Slinking down the alley and sneaking across the street is surprisingly easy--they’re genuinely so brain dead, there’s absolutely no semblance of the person they were before; it’s depressing if you think too hard of it. An involuntary sigh of relief pulls from your lips at the sight of your baby still sitting pretty in the garage. Silently you pull the gray tarp off the car, folding it over itself a few times and tossing it in the backseat along with your backpack into the passenger seat.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I missed you, baby.” you coo at the car, running a hand over the slick, black roof. You dip back into the passenger seat, popping the glove box open and grabbing the map Daryl had insisted you keep in there.

It’d been annoying back then, but it makes you smile today; guess you really did need it. You unfold the map over the hood of your car, tapping the pencil you had wrapped up in the paper against it. Suddenly reading a map seems like a much more important skill as you stare at the lines representing roads, and rivers, and landmarks. Technically, you do know how to read one, but barely, it’s not like you were in a scouts troop as a kid.

There’s a few old markings on the map from Daryl--just a few words, circles to help direct you--it almost makes you cry. You chalk it up to pregnancy hormones as you swallow thickly, marking up the map for your trip. If you remember correctly, it took about twelve hours--including stops--to get to Virginia from Georgia.

So, you should get there in a flash; what traffic is going to be stopping you? Well, the roads might be blocked, you guess you’ll find out. You trace a couple different routes, just in case before the annoyingly familiar groans of the undead echo across the concrete building. 

Folding the map up you sigh, “Let's get this show on the road.” You tap Baby’s hood twice before getting into the car, propping the map up against your backpack in the passenger seat.

The drive is…surprisingly nice, you popped in an old mix tape into the stereo, tapping the wheel in beat to every song. Only downside is the traffic--and people aren’t even alive, you’d think that’d be the one good thing about the apocalypse, but no! Roads are clogged with cars, some crashed and others just stopped, like everyone just disappeared. Back roads aren’t too horrible though, it’s nice seeing something alive, even if it’s just flora. 

 Nature comes a-calling around the fourth hour of the drive, pulling off at an old mom&pop looking gas station. The bell hanging from a sparkly ribbon jingles as you slowly push the door open, waiting in the entrance for anything, dead or alive. 

Nothing comes after a minute or two, so you continue in, looking around the small building; it’s in shockingly good condition. It’s pretty cleaned out, but everything is intact. Something bumps against your foot as you walk through the aisles, making you yelp. It’s just a soda can, you learn when you look down, letting out a shaky chuckle.

“Phew, we’re good,” you exhale aloud, squatting down with a groan to pick up the can. You run a hand over your bump when you stand back, smiling when she kicks against your hand.

To your dismay, the bathrooms are locked and you’d really prefer not to pop a squat in a bush. After a bit of searching, you find the key attached to a fly swatter behind the counter and finally get to do your do. 

You confiscate a bottle of hand sanitizer on your way out, slathering your hands in the liquid. As you pass the gas pump you figure it wouldn’t hurt to top off your tank, maybe fill a few cans; you just hope the damn things still have gas. 

“Moment of truth…” you mutter as you stick the nozzle into the fuel door, pulling the lever and hoping like hell. Gas starts flowing and you’re elated, bouncing between your feet as you go grab gas cans.

“On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again,” you hum as you start driving again, feeling pretty good about everything.

The sun is shining, backroads are clear, gas tank is full, what isn’t there to feel good about? 

Eventually you have to get back onto the highway, but that high and mighty feeling still stays strong through the last five and a half hours of the drive--It doesn’t when you get to Atlanta. If you thought other cities were bad, then you don’t have a clue what to consider Atlanta. 

The sun had already set hours ago, so you decide it’s best to just pull over, get some sleep and try to brave the mess that once was Interstate 85. Sleep comes easy, considering; it’s a warm summer night, muggy as all hell though, but you got a good few hours before the sound of horse hooves awoke you--Horse hooves?

You sit up hastily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you look out the window to try and identify where the clopping is coming from. You get eyes on the horse and realize it’s definitely not wild, it’s got a rider.

A guy, you think, adorned with a cowboy hat and a bag of something slung over his shoulder. His head turns and you shrink into the backseat, hoping he didn’t see you. He did, if the way the horse’s footsteps seem come closer with every passing moment; maybe he’s just passing by--He’s not.  

Something metal taps against the car window (a gun, it’s a gun, oh no, he’s gonna shoot you), “Hey, I can see you in there; I don’t mean harm,” says a faint country accent. 

You have a half thought of reaching for your gun, which stupidly still lays in the front seat, you’d be dead before you grabbed it, so you can be reasonable. You tilt your head up, meet with a man wearing a sheriffs--not a cowboy, okie dokie--hat, something of a hesitant, sheepish smile revealing pearly teeth.

“I’m going to sit up, and turn around.” you inform him, raising hands in surrender as you very slowly sit up. He may’ve said he doesn’t mean harm, but you don’t want to risk any sudden movements. 

He watches tentatively and you do the same, staring at each other for a solid minute--maybe he is a cowboy, you swear this could be a scene out of an old western. His eyes rove over you, searching for weapons or you assume. A protective hand instinctively goes to your stomach, shielding your baby from his scorching glare.

“You’re pregnant?” are the next words out of his mouth; they’re quiet, almost worried, you could barely make them out through the glass. It takes you a second to answer, it’s not like you thought nobody would notice, you’re five months pregnant, but you hoped it wouldn’t be super obvious.

“No, I’m just super fat,” you retort, scowling as you roll the window down, “What'd you want, cowboy?” 

That makes him snort, shaking his head slightly, “Cowboy? Nah, my name’s Sheriff Rick Grimes, you?”

You continue scrutinizing the man, a deep frown pulling at your lips. He looks friendly enough, looks can be deceiving though. You lean into the front seat, popping open your glove compartment and grab your ID, passing it to--Rick, apparently. 

“You’re an officer too?” oh yeah, you forgot you keep your badge in your wallet. You nod slightly, snatching the wallet from his grip, deciding he’s had more than enough time with it.

“Was, an officer.” you correct, watching him just laugh at you like this is a perfectly normal interaction, water cooler chat. “In case you haven’t noticed, the world’s gone to shit, I’m not an officer anymore, you’re not a sheriff, we’re survivors, that’s it.”

“Ain’t you a ray of sunshine?” he quips, raising his hands in mock surrender as he catches sight of your unamused expression. “Well, sunshine, need a ride into the city?”

You go to say ‘no,’ but pause for a moment. A horse is probably easier, fits between cars better, quieter, it’s not a bad idea. Trusting him though? Could be. You could kill him, take the horse, but that’s a little bit much, you reckon.

“Ugh--yeah, a ride would be, huuugh, nice.” you concede, deciding if he were to kill you, it’d be a better way to go than to have your flesh torn from your skin. You wave your hand out the window, getting him to move so you open the car door.

Joints pop as you exit the car, crackling when you stretch and walk over to the passenger side to grab your bag. You tick a mental checklist as you gather your belongings--knife, in your belt, gun, on the other side of your belt, bag, over your shoulder, yep. You’ve got everything. 

The metal of the car is warm as you caress her, “I’ll be back, Baby, I promise,” is what you mumble to the car whilst you press a kiss to the roof. 

Rick’s eyebrow raises slightly, clearing not understanding the deep bond between a person and their beloved car. All he gets in return is a glare whilst you hike your bag higher onto your shoulder, shuffling over to his horse. 

“Well? Let’s go, cowboy, we’re losing daylight!” you nag, causing the sheriff to hurry over, clicking his tongue. 

“You’re impatient, anyone ever told you that?” he questions rhetorically as he pulls himself onto the horse, sticking a hand out to help you up.

Your, seemingly permanent, glower is directed at his hand, like it’s a piece of filth as you hoist yourself onto the horse. The animal nickers and starts trotting once more; instinctively your hands go to Rick’s shoulders to keep from falling off the horse.

“Sooo… What’re hoping to find in Atlanta?” Rick asks, looking over his shoulder to look at you. All you do is shrug, not wishing to speak to him--even if you did, you don’t know what you’re hoping to find.

He nods slowly at your non-answer, “I’m tryin’ find my wife, Lori, and my son, Carl,” he informs you, making you feel bad at the fact that he’s opening up.

You blame pregnancy hormones for the guilty feeling, “You having a boy or girl or do you even know?” is the next thing you register from his mouth.

You decide to answer this one, “A girl, found out the day this shit started.”  you reveal, throwing him a bone with the extra tidbit. His head bobs along with your words, trying to keep an eye both on you and the busy road.

“I always wanted a little girl. Give Carl someone to protect when he gets older, y’know?” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. How old is he--Carl, I mean.”

“‘Bout eleven; shit, by now he’s probably twelve.”

“How’d you get separated from your wife and kid?”

That makes Rick pause, and you start backtracking. It’s none of your business, you shouldn’t have asked. He snickers at your stammering, shaking his head.

“It’s ok, don’t worry; I was just trying to figure out how to word it.” he explains, scratching the back of his neck, “I got shot on duty--none of us realized there was a third guy--sent me into a coma. Next thing I knew I woke up and half the world was dead and my house was cleared out.”

You wince slightly. Damn, that must suck, you didn’t have any friends when this started, so you didn't have anyone to worry about. You couldn’t imagine being in a coma for months then waking up and the world’s ended and your family’s gone.

“Ooh, that’s shitty, man. Really. Hope you find them.” you apologize, awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“That makes two of us.” he agrees, falling into focus as you hit the city limit.

The streets are clearer in the city, apparently nobody made it into the city. You look around, tightening your grip on Rick’s shoulder in worry as you turn the corner. Suddenly the horse is bucking upwards, tossing both of you off of her. It takes a moment to realize why you’re on the floor, but the second you see the horde you're panicking.

“Rick, hey man, up! We’ve gotta go.” you yell, grabbing at his shoulder. Unlike yourself--who luckily landed on your bag--Rick got knocked on his ass, clearly winded as he only stares in horror. 

Undead start growling, getting distracted from the now dead horse, stumbling towards fresh meat. It’s cruel, but you leave. You spin, looking for somewhere to run, eyes snagging on a tank. It’s a short sprint to the military vehicle, but a vague struggle to climb up, barreling down the hatch and yanking it shut.

You can barely catch your breath before growling fills your ears, a zombie soldier crawling towards you. Before you can even try to scream, a shot rings out followed by arguably the most painful ringing noise. 

Your head whips around, finding Rick holding his ears, gun in one hand. If you could hear yourself think, you’d yell at him. What kind of idiot shoots a gun in a tank? A metal box? He could’ve blown our eardrums out! He also saved your life, so he gets a pass.

“Thanks.” you gasp when the ringing finally subsides, rubbing furiously at your temple. He presents you with a shaky thumbs up, against the opposite wall you’re leaning on. “Sorry for leaving you out there,” you whisper, peeking an eye open to look at him.

“You’re good, I would've done the same if I could’ve--no offense.” he admits, lazily waving a hand through the air. 

You chuckle, shaking your head, “Trust me, none taken.”

You’re ready to just pass out here in the tank, yet Rick still seems loaded, drawing the peek-a-boo hatch open, staring at the scene outside. He mutters something you can’t quite hear, relocking the hatch and sliding back down. 

“The weapons bag…my walkie…” are the few distraught words you manage to catch, shutting your eyes.

It’s silence between the two of you for a long stretch until the radio crackles. You think you’re hearing things since Rick didn’t seem to hear anything, but it crackles again. Rick hears it this time, nearly getting whiplash with the speed he turned his head. 

He looks at you for confirmation, to make sure he’s not crazy. He’s not, unless you’re both hearing things and going insane. You nod, wiggling over to kneel next to him in front of the radio when it crackles a third time; a voice comes through this time.

“Hey, you two. Dumbasses. Y’all in the tank. You guys cozy in there?”

[dinaanana]

What If Verlaine Trained Teenager!Reader?

the Character is from Stormbringer Novel

synopsis: Fluff/Crack

Paul Verlaine x Teenager!Reader (Platonic!)

(He's so pretty)

(Pretend you're Also a stormbringer Character aswell)

So first of all This Man is strict asf. so Brace Yourselves

(Didn't he also Train Kyouka and Gin? Yeah)

There's no problem with training you either

If you already know Any type of Martial Arts or MMA he's Glad to hear that.

When he Looks at you working out and f you do Something he doesn't like? You get the exercises wrong? He's making you Do 50 Push ups 50 Sit Ups and yeah☠️

And if you're still lazy Then you'll be doing 100 instead of 50 (He is really nice isn't he)

(Obv he trains You in his musty ass Basement)

Sometimes Chuuya Watches As His big Brother Trains you He's just Standing there like 🧍 while you're fighting for your own Life

And when you look at him with Tired eyes and drenched In sweat Asking for Help? he just Smirks and Shakes his Head

Verlaine doesn't care about Your age if you're young or not if you think that you're young and he's gonna go easy on you Nah you're wrong .

You're Training to be an Assassin for the Port mafia. After all

Not only he teaches you martial arts but he also teaches you how to use A gun a Knife Anything for self defence

''Oh my god I'm tired'' You whine as you Lay on your back all sweaty and breathing heavily

'Did I hear something?'' He Looks down At your lying form

''I- no-'' You know what's coming Next.

''Im not deaf,You're doing 100 push ups and 100 sit ups Right now.'' He Says in Stern tone with his French accent

We also Know that To become an Assasin you have to get used to Alot of Gore.

I mean You gotta see some Gorey shit everyday You're a Mafioso After all.

Training with him is Bit Intense

But you'll become Stronger and It boosts your confidence Everyday Around other Ppl soo It's worth it 100%

You're literally being trained By king of Assassin's how could you not be strong I mean.. you can knock Down 10 Grown men With Just Using your fists

After Years of training He asks you to have Hand to hand combat With Him

Well you put up A great right but you still lose ''You may not win against me But you put Up a great fight.Thing The Members older than you in Port Mafia can't do..'' He Says

(Bro the things I'll do To be trained by This Man omg I don't mean it cuz I simp for him and not in A creepy way tho☠️)

After Training for like Years You go on your first Mission and guess what

When you come back With the mission accomplished

You go down in the basement to tell him the News but he already knows That,Ge Comes near you looking down at you and He Pats u on Shoulder ''Good Job.'' with His French accent.

He's like a Proud dad when his Kid Gets high score in elementary school omg

He also Tells you to read books (If you don't like reading them) He'll tell you That Assasin Are suppose to be Smart and not dumb Like you (Not to Insult you just to Get you to read Them)

You agree after that and ask him what type Of books you shall read and he Suggest you to read Some detective Books By Some Authors Like Agatha Christie and etc.

And if you already read Alot of books? he praises you and tells you you're doing Great

(Except If you read Wattpad stories ☠️)

Anyways

Training with him is Amazing but Very I mean very exhausting even thought you Barely Can walk after all the Exercises and Training

Id rate him

10/10 tho

[princessconsuela120]

Chapter three: Stick Season —✿

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: mentions of guns, drugs, cursing, pregnancy

Authors Note: this is mostly a filler, to show that the story follows the plot of season two! Enjoy!!!

—✿

NOELLE HAD BEEN HAVING A ROUGH MORNING. She’s been staying with fezco ever since a few days ago when her parents kicked her out, and it seemed as though Nate’s baby was already deciding to be like it’s dad and piss her off.

“Damn ma.” Fezco said, glancing over at Noelle who was struggling to pull her jeans over her new stomach bump. She groaned loudly, throwing her jeans to the floor in defeat.

“I know. My stupid, jeans won’t fit…”

“You got a baby in there. No Shit they don’t fit.” Ashtray yelled from the other room, causing Noelle to stick her tongue out at him.

“Shut it ash. I don’t have the patience.” She grumbled, sighing as she stood with her hands on her hips, her stomach protruding out the bottom of her shirt.

“It’s kinda cute cuz.” Fez tried, smiling at the little bump she had while she ran an angry hand down her face.

“Please, I look like a beached whale.”

“Nah, pregnancy suits you.” Fezco smiled at her and she smiled back, placing a soft kiss against his forehead in thanks.

“Thanks fez. Cant wait to go to school with this shit.” She grumbled, holding a hand at her stomach as she pulled on sweats, walking towards the door.

“Anyone give you shit you let me know.” He called after her.

“I will.”

“Have a good day ma!”

“Bye fez! Bye Ash!”

—✿

Fezco had a new house guest, and besides Noelle, he had an even newer house guest. Ashtray was so pissed off he couldn't even speak to Fez.

“Good morning!” Faye said happily, opening her Coca Cola can as Fezco and Noelle looked at her with a smile, Noelle running her fingers over her stomach as she did.

“Morning.” Fezco replied dryly, as Noelle sent the blonde a light nod and a smile.

Fezco couldn't understand the whole story. But apparently Faye had pushed the motel manager off the balcony. She got in trouble with the police and Custer didn’t know what to do. Unfortunately, he wouldn't leave her. And the last thing Fezco needed was the cops finding Faye with Custer. Custer told Fez he could find her behind the dumpster of the new Taco Bell. So Faye came to live with Fez.

“Yo, don't touch nothin'.” Fezco said, listing off rules as he walked Faye around the house. “Don't talk to Ash.”

“Okay.”

“And don't go in mine or Ellie’s f*ckin' rooms, all right?”

“I promise.” Faye said, smiling kindly as she sat across from the two who were sitting and eating. Well, fezco was eating, Noelle and Faye were watching him.

“Want some of my sandwich ma?”

“No thanks.”

“Come on, you gotta eat up. Keep yourself good and healthy for the little gangster.” Fezco said, making Noelle chuckle as she shrugged. She took a bite before handing it back to fezco, who smiled at Faye next. “You want some of my sandwich?” He asked next, making Faye smile widely.

“Okay.”

—✿

Noelle had been spending her time with Fezco at the shop, helping him with work until she could get back on her feet. Her old job was working for Nate’s dad and considering Nate hasn’t told his parents about the baby yet…she didn’t exactly want to see him. So she quit. And now she was in desperate need of a job. And I’m terms of fezco, working at the shop was her only option.

“Lexi Howard.” Fezco said happily, smiling widely at the girl as she walked in. Noelle had been very fond of Lexi, having been friends with me and her since we were kids.

“Hi. Hey Noelle.” She said with a kind smile, making Noelle wave back.

“How you doin'?” Fez asked.

Ever since new years, fezco hasn’t been able to shut up about Lexi, and Noelle knew that more than anyone, having been around him so much. It was sweet really, that fezco had feelings for someone. Noelle had been waiting for the day for him to swoon over someone.

“I'm good, um...”

“Hi. I'm Faye.” Faye introduced, not realizing the slight jealousy in Lexi’s eyes.

“I'm Lexi, um...Are, are you guys...”

“Yeah, no, she's just stayin' with me for a bit, but, but she's cool, though. What brings you out here anyway?” Fez asked, making Lexi smile as she walked over to the fridge.

“Oh, I just came to get a, a drink.”

“Okay, well, we got plenty of those. Um... do you need help finding anything?”

“No, I'm okay.”

“Oh, uh, that's the malt liquor.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The doorbell rang, signaling someone walked in. And by the look on lexis face, it couldn’t be anyone good.

“Feel sorry I didn't get to say goodbye on New Year's.” Fezco said, not noticing the nervous looks on both girls faces at the man who just walked in.

“Good evening.” Cal Jacobs said, a stern look on his face as he walked into the store.

“What's up, man?” Fez asked, confused by his intimidating demeanor.

“You got any spearmint gum?”

“I don't know, man. The gum's right here.”

“Hey Noelle.” Cal greeted, smiling over at Noelle who had been hiding slightly behind fez, hoping cal wouldn’t notice her.

“Hey Mr Jacobs.”

“Please, you know you can call me cal.” He said, kindly regardless of his scary nature. Noelle nodded at him before Cal looked down at her stomach. The slight bump protruding from it catching his attention before fezco stood infront of her protectively.

“This your store?” He asked, making fez nod.

“It's a family business.”

“Do your parents own it?” He asked, making Fezco let out a huff of annoyance at all the questions cal was asking him.

“You usually ask this many questions, man?” He asked, an agitated tone to his voice as he watched cal approach the front counter.

“Just you. She tell you who I am?” He asked, gesturing to Lexi before Fez shook his head. He chuckled, before gesturing to Noelle. “Did she?”

“Nah, man.” Fezco said, yet ge knew the second the man greeted Noelle that it was Nate’s father.

“Are you a cop?” Faye asked, as Cal reached into his pocket. The whole room went quiet when the sound of cal gripping a gun came from his pocket. Everyone watched as he carefully pulled out a twenty, and smiled.

“No. Just a concerned father.” He replied. He left the twenty on the table, grabbing his things before leaving as fezco followed him out. The lights flickered with intimidation as Cal drove off. Noelle couldn’t help but curse herself out for letting Nate’s dad see her baby bump.

—✿

“No ma, not again.” Fezco whispered, walking into the living room at the sound of Noelle’s tears.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” She cried, making him sigh as he pulled her into a hug.

“It’s okay ma.”

“I’m so stupid fezco. I’m so fucking stupid man.” She buried her face in his shirt, crying harder as he held her. This became a routine ever since Noelle moved in. Fezco hated seeing her so crushed.

“You ain’t stupid. You just got hurt.”

“This isn’t my life, this isn’t real. It can’t be.”

“It’s real ma. I know, let it all out.” He reassured, rubbing soothing patterns on her back to calm her.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She cried, making him sigh once more.

“It’ll be okay. I’m right here ma, I ain’t goin no where.”

[tht0nesimp]

Home Sweet Home

Yandere Gallagher family and foster(?) kid reader

tw: incest if you squint, entrapment, blackmail, violence, The Whole Family Finally Works Together!, not much Debbie or Carl, nor V or kev, not time specific I guess Idfk just pick a season when their in school, restraints, drugging, reader try’s to run away

Summary: Running away goes bad, and you receive your just punishment—and perhaps some unjust punishment as well.

“Where do you think you were fucking going” Ian scream, tapping his finger against your forehead “Is it empty in here? God, and to think Fi thought it was ‘alright’ if you went off on your own for an hour or two” Ian sighs and looks around the street, crossing his arms, giving you the same disappointed look as last time. “We’re walking home, everyone will deal with this once we get home” Ian moves you away from the street and further on the sidewalk, grabbing your arm to keep you from sprinting across the road “No! Please! Don’t tell! We can make an excuse?!” Ian’s grip gets tighter, and for a brief moment you wonder if he forgets he’s been doing ROTC for three years and karate for even longer, and could easily fracture your wrist.

“Now they have to hear about that too” Ian walks till he’s dragged you home, opening the door to the place and looking at you like a impatient mother, clearly not in a great mood. You usher in, wanting to make him be in as good of a mood as possible when breaking the news to everyone. “Carl? Go get the handcuffs from the van!” Ian yells out to Carl, who’d been sitting absentmindedly on the couch got up and ran out the back door towards the van. “Ian i promise it won’t happen again but you can’t—“ “Lip!” Ian ignores you and sets you onto the mattress in the living room—something that pissed you off.

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

“What are you doing?” Fiona yells out to your in your space under the stairs, quickly pulling the curtain back as she heard you talking. “Nothing, just talking to myself” you say quietly, not wanting to alert any more attention to it. “Tell, now” Fiona gets angrier by the second “Really I’m just talking to myself I promise” “Nah, grab your mattress, can’t trust ya, your sleepin in the living room” Fiona crosses her arms and shrugs, mind already made up. “That’s not fair!” Your voice carries more defiance than you thought you had left “One more word and Ian and Lip will be sleeping on the couch tonight to guard” Fiona points to the living room before walking off, no doubt to plan however many kids wanna sleep in the living room with you.

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

But that was a few months ago, and you’ve been so good, so so so good all the time. You let Lip tutor you and let Carl talk to you about girls and guns, you play with Liam, Drop lunches off at Ian’s work since you earned back going out alone, even telling Debbie about puberty and playing big sister! That has to count for something for you, something to help your case here! Eventually they sit you down on your mattress with and circle you, sitting in front of you on all sides, the normal position for when they rip you apart

You could have been hurt—Your weak!

Your being ungrateful—Your stupid!

We can’t handle this right now, but we will if we have to—Your trouble!

We took you in, before us, you were nothing!

Not good enough!

So you wait for the barrage, but it doesn’t come, only sighs and quiet footsteps. “I know your gonna hate us right now, but this is for your own good” Lip opens a kitchen cabinet and gets little baggy of pills, Fiona follows closely and gets a slice of plain bread.

“From now on, with every meal, three of these” Fiona places them on the plush pillow in front of you “Over my dead fucking body” at this point, you might as well dig your grave deeper “Take em, now” Fiona’s voice gets a little firmer, patience quickly evaporating “You all are crazy! Batshit crazy!” Your face stings as a hand comes down to slap you “We are protecting you! Stop being pathetic and take the damn pills kid!” Fiona storms off, angry no doubt.

“Get her jaw” lip stretches his arms back a little and nods to Ian, Carl and Debbie simply seem to watch in amazement from afar. “I’ll take them” Lip grabs them “See, I would trust you, but you did just try to become a godamn runaway an hour ago” Ian grabs your jaw, locking it open and moving your head a bit. Lip drops the pill in dry, they let you suffer through the chalky sensation for a few seconds before pouring a small bit of coke down your throat. Debbie hesitantly approaches as you cry, leaving a blanket at the edge of the mattress before turning to Carl “We should leave her alone now” they all seem to listen, albeit Lip and Ian stay around in case somehow some manhandling is needed but attempt to atleast isolate you by staying in the kitchen.

It must be hours later as the pills begin to wear off just a little “Ian…Lip…Debbie…Fiona…?” You were hungry, and thirsty, and you realized months ago that in situations like this your best option was to ask quietly and make yourself as small as possible. Lip groggily wakes from what must be an alcohol induced coma, tapping Ian’s arm and waking him. “It’s like…6 in the mornin” Ian groans but gets up from his position on the couch. He and Lip get up, walking in stride to the kitchen to get you food and water, Ian returns with a plate of toast and an egg “Where did you even think you would go?” Ian stares dumbfounded “No other family, when will you just accept that you belong in this house? Y’know we tried to be nice, let you do shit you wanted, but you keep proving you’re not trustworthy!…Maybe it’s time for a permanent spot in the living room” Ian sighs and get back onto the couch “N-No! I was so good I was just trying…I just wanted some alone time out” Lip returns from the kitchen with a cigarette “Alone time is for big kids, and you’ve been acting like a quivering pussy all day” Lip laughs even as Ian nudges him a little.

“Where’d Fi put the pills?” Lip narrowly avoids getting his ash on Ian and searches around the dark living room, turning on a lamp and finding the baggy on the nightstand next to the couch “Deb made cookies, I’m gonna go get one, make her take the damn pills” Lip gets up and leaves you and Ian, who puts the pills on the plate and stares at you expectantly. “Now” You have no choice, so you pick your dignity and take it with the small plastic cup of water.

“Dickhead…” you mumble as Ian and Lip sit on the couch with a cigarette “Big talk for someone sitting in front of two people she’s partially dependent on survival from now on” Ian laughs a bit at Lips taunt and they talk about whatever stupid shit they have going on.

It wasn’t fair, nothing in this house was ever fucking fair. The Gallaghers barely let you take two steps without coddling or yelling at you. Even Debbie and Carl are protective, albeit Carl doesn’t really give a shit most of the time, but still! Ian can have his shitty boyfriend Mickey, Lip can have his shitty girlfriend Amanda, Debbie and Carl can date older people, but the second you take foot out of the house it’s like you’ve sold yourself off at the corner? That’s bullshit! You let the thoughts boil around in your brain before the world plucks you back off of fantasy land and into reality as Ian turns the lamp off, laying down and getting an extra blanket “Prolly shouldn’t give it to you but its cold tonight, sleep, you need it” your hands don’t move quite right from the pills as you go to grab it, wrapping yourself in it as much as possible and squeezing your eyes shut as if to push demons out.

In the morning, you wake in a hazed fogginess to the typical shenanigans of the early Friday morning—it’s summer, so atleast they won’t make you do school work while you sit there. “Hi little dude” Lip picks Liam up and puts him in his high chair, talking to Fiona about something offhandedly for a few minutes. Debbie and Carl are upstairs fighting over the bathroom, and there’s clothes being pushed down the laundry chute. Fiona comes over, key in hand, and squats down. “We are gonna get you a shower after breakfast, I’m gonna uncuff you, and you are gonna be the good kid i know ya are” Fi smiles and chuckles, the lock clicks and you sprout up, still dizzy and disoriented as you make your way over to the dining room table. Putting your head down to block out any chance of light getting into your glassy eyes.

You can hear a plate slide onto the table infront of you, a cut up slice of toast and eggs, and no doubt another serving of the satans damned drugs. “You want me to take her with me to work?” Ian seems absentminded as they discuss “I was gonna walk down to the pool or on the L…” you let your voice slip out, even though you know the inevitable response. Fiona hugs you, and you can hear her let out a breathy sigh “If she goes with you, no drinking, and no strippers or anything” Fiona leans on the counter a bit while she talks to Ian, smiling as she pats him on the back. “Alright, Lip? Wanna chill with us in the living room while I get ready for work?” Ian calls out to the older boy, the two bringing your plate; and by extension, you, into the living room. Ian doesn’t say much as you plop down onto the couch, until he starts working on shorts for his job.

“Lip, this really isn’t easy! Hey, grumpy, are my cuts even?” Ian twirls around in the much too short shorts. “You look like a stripper” you let yourself sink further into the couch, eyes drooping as you slowly blink “Lip, you wanna stop by later? I’ll get you a free beer?” Ian continues his conversation with Lip like the comment never happened, something you should be happy about, considering it was one less argument to deal with.

You stare at the ceiling for however long it takes for Ian to drag you and his duffel bag out of the house, jogging much too fast for you to keep up. “Hurry Hurry!” Ian laughs, the usual giggle of his manic episodes. How you wish you could call him fucking crazy and be over with it. Once you finally get to the damned club, Ian seems to happily leave you off in some secluded area, an indoor gazebo with rows of beads instead of a real door. You attempt to avert your gaze as much as possible, seeing Ian grind on some old man’s cock wasn’t particularly pleasant.

The hours pass, Lip stops by, and eventually the wee hours of the morning come and Ian is sitting next to you. “Let’s get you home, ok? The bar doesn’t have much in the way of uhm food but I found some crackers in the back…let’s take our pills together I guess?” Ian chuckles and slings an arm over you as he relaxes a bit, in nothing but his dancing outfit and a coat. He pops his in his mouth and grimaces before washing it down with some sort of fruity martini, eyeing yours and grabbing the bowl.

“Food first!” Ian holds it up to your lips, you grimace but fake a smile at the noises he makes and open your mouth for the dry food. After a few more, Ian finally relents and hands you the pills, opting to grab you a glass of ice water instead of alcohol—definitely not surprising seeing as how you weren’t really allowed to drink.

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

“Your fuckin wasted” Lip lets out a frustrated laugh and runs his fingers through his hair “I’m not wasted” you defend yourself, one beer doesn’t count as wasted lest your an anemic 11 year old. “Maybe we should have you join ROTC with Ian, learn some damned respect” Lip slams a cupboard before noticing the expression on your face. Your fear makes him calm down just a little. He brings you home, albeit it’s suspicious he even knew your friends and you were gonna be drinking, he brings you home for what wasn’t the first nor last time he would drag you away from your friends, ruining any chance of a social life. You mutter curses under your tainted breath as he opens the front door, godamn crazy Gallaghers…

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

Ian manages to call a cab, nearly as foggy as you are. Lip accompanies you on the few blocks home, him and Ian being the typical amazing brothers they are (to each other, of course, to you, they’re the devils Fiona’s helpers). You absentmindedly follow, counting your steps against the warm concrete and enjoying what stars you can make out, hoping to appeal to Ian’s more sympathetic side, you sit down in the yard and stare at the night sky. “Gotta go in” you muster a little huff “Please? It’s so pretty, no one ever lets me come out and looks at the stars with me….” You pretend to want to spend time with him, looking at him with big watery eyes “Well…Why don’t we open the window in the living room, should let some fresh air in, you need it” he smiles, whether he knows what he’s doing or not is a mystery but he pulls you up and happily brings you over to the front door, you get one last good look before your being yanked through the doorway and into the kitchen. Lip waves Ian off to go change and it leaves just you and him at the table.

“You know, everyone’s gettin real tired of the teen runaway shit man; you gotta mature, you aren’t exactly setting a good example for Debbie” Lip lectures for a few minutes before Fiona sleepily comes in the door, hugging you before digging in the fridge and taking off her shoes “You take your new meds with Ian?” Fiona asks “Yeah, with crackers” you mumble, making Fiona put her hands on her hips and look at you. “Crackers? Ian’s gotta figure out some real food next time, I think we’ve got leftover pizza” Fiona heats some up and you can hear the whizzing of the old thing.

Carl comes downstairs, and heads straight for the knife holder. After getting a small knife, much to Fiona’s dismay as she looks at him in disbelief, Carl makes his way over to the table. “Are you crazy like Ian?” He tips his head a little, the familiar curiosity brewing in his eyes makes you wanna rip your hair out. “No I have to take them because everyone else is crazy like Ian—“ Fiona leans against the counter and glares, plate of pizza in hand. “No, you have to take them because your irresponsible” she waves her finger before placing the plate on the table in front of you “Lip, make sure you lock the door before bed…” Fionas shift seems to have left her exhausted, she drags herself up the stairs and you can hear her drop onto her bed.

Lip nods before returning to his cigarette, patting you on the back and digging around in the bathroom, pushing through Debbie’s products until he finds a hairbrush. “Ian! You’re basically a girl, help her!” He taunts and shakes him a little as he comes downstairs, Ian gently punches him in response and tiredly grabs the brush “Got any good movies?” He discusses with Lip “You like saw?” Ian leans down and takes a break from detangling your hair “Uhm…I guess” you don’t think too much about it, the way it seemed, you would be asleep before the opening credits were done.

So, Ian gets the disc for SAW2. He finishes with brushing it and lets himself focus mostly on putting it in 2 braids, not bothering to ask if you mind, of course. But they seem fine eventually as Ian relaxes into the couch, pulling you up between him and Lip and throwing a blanket at you in an attempt to be playful. He makes a look of discomfort when you show no emotion and instead opt to grab it and curl up, he seems to justify it in his head and shrugs.

You watch the guts and gore, some woman falling into a pit of needles makes you flinch just a little, but you manage to distract yourself with the sounds of Debbie in the kitchen. Excusing yourself from the horror fest, you walk up to her and reach over to grab a glass, pouring yourself a glass of juice. Her eyes seem to follow you everywhere “Would you mind helping with daycare tomorrow? Please?” She gives you a look, even though you don’t have much of a choice. “Sure, you should sleep so your energized for daycare in the morning, Night Debs” you put on your best smile and she smiles back before walking back up the stairs for bed.

You find yourself wandering with your glass of juice, staring at the bright liquid as you stare at the window, being as quiet as you can, you open the door and creep onto the balcony. “Stunning” you manage to whisper as you stare at the growing grass and what was left of Ethel’s farm off in the distance. You crack the door so it doesn’t make noise but doesn’t let in a draft either, taking as much time as you can afford to spend out on the rickety wood structure, sipping your drink and closing your eyes.

Your pulled out of your delusions of tranquillity by cold small hands on your wrist, much too small to be Ian’s or Lip’s, you turn to see Carl with a smirk on his face. “I won’t tell, just get inside” he lets out an evil giggle, staring at the sky as well. Unfortunately, Ian and Lip had already been alerted to the antics going on as they watch from the kitchen and talk. “If you’re gonna do that, might wanna get sneakier” Lip sips a beer and glances back at the end of the movie. “Alright bedtime for you Carl” Lip pats him on the back and shoos him away to upstairs.

Fiona is sitting piling blankets and pillows onto the mattress, in a better mood for sure. “Gets cold at night, should help” she hums and finishes up, hugging you tightly “Be good kiddo, please” it sounds more like pleading than an order, you’d put money on her praying for patience sometime this week. So she tucks you in and locks the overbearing amounts of locks on the door, sending Lip and Ian to their own beds for the night.

She sits on the edge of the mattress and rubs your foot “I love you, and we’ll get through it” she says like it’s Ian’s bipolar diagnosis and not her own fucking family and their intense insanity. She seems to take your watery eyes as a good sign and kisses you on the head, leaving a water bottle on the table for you and shutting the lights off.

Leaving you and the familiar high from whatever bullshit you were on, you curl up in bed and finally fall asleep, preparing to do everything again—what can you say, persistence is a Gallagher feature.

[obeymebutnotlikethat]

Assault is my love language, she smirks.

His leg throbs to the beat of his heart as he braces against the nearby wall.

Her mouth turns down at the lack of catching air.

He mimics her. A part of him is missing but all of him is leaning against a graffiti wash-off wall. Hands coated in dust and fading paint stains. His shirt battered and his headphones attempted to let gravity take them down.

Fuck you're a brute, he coughs, Buttercup makes ya seem nice and sweet and shit.

Shut up, her eyes roll, I only do it cause you can take it. My sisters are crybabies y'know?

He doesn't. He doesn't fuck around like that with his brothers. Scared the baby of the group? Sure, normal kid things. Straight-up kicked them? Cause they could take it? Nah, it wasn't...it wasn't a funny joke.

Yet, the short stack isn't gunning for a fight. It's affectionate and somewhere he thinks it's fucked. Somewhere, he wants to snicker or huff or smirk at her. Somewhere, he wants to ditch her ass but he doesn't. He straightens himself and watches her shove her hands into her pockets.

Don't know, he offers, didn't think to do it.

Oh, she graces.

He could catch the anger in her face if he cared to look. It's regret and he knows it like the back of his hand. Easier to be angry; anger gets shit done.

He wants to find the anger.

Dude, she groans, just straight-up tell me.

About your shitty outfit, he supplies, looks like you got into something.

No, you're reflecting, she puffs a cloud of winter, I know I can be slow as you...but if you aren't vibing or fucking with anything I'll change.

Change, he gaffes.

Shut it, Blossoms been giving me lectures about choosing the right words. All because I made Bubbles cry after a kitchen accident, she tells him, I tried making it up to her. Offered to let her punch me or something but she wouldn't.

He definitely feels out of place now.

His brows furrow in thought because they didn't apologize like that. There were late meals, replaced items, or just go fuck knows where.

This felt like a reverse scenario or whatever. How were their reactions more fucked than his or his brothers? Shouldn't it be different? Or, oh, that's shit.

She take it, he almost knocks her into traffic.

No.

Why not, he grabs her coat's edge to keep her steady.

She glances at him with a familiar villain.

Cause she doesn't like hurting us or hurting each other.

He gets that. That was their motto in Citiesville since they only had each other. Distant? Sure but they didn't leave marks.

Would've been better if she just hit me, she gripes.

...better?

I accidentally hurt her, she slowly explains as if he's a small child.

He feels like a small child. The kid tucked underneath bus stops in a smoke-filled town lifts his head.

If she- you know hit me or something we would be even, Buttercup sighed, like I straight-up deserved it. Would've made me feel better maybe.

Oh, he pulls a face, couldn't do it.

She lifts a brow at him as they stumble to the edge of the school gates.

Wasn't great getting them fucked up, he winces.

He forgot her kicks lingered.

She forgot who they once were.

Sorry, she mutters.

Or more so, she forgot who they were under. Fuck.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 2: First

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan Timeline: when the two were kids CW: none Rating: G Words: 3,018 (haha whoa)

***

Recent fans of Reagan Gilmore and Ben Murray would be surprised to find out that Ben kissed Reagan first. But they likely wouldn't be surprised about how drastically it changed their lives forever.

On the morning of February 13th, 1932, Reagan sped on his green Schwinn bike down the main road of the neighborhood he shared with Ben. He was tasked with grabbing cheese, flour, broth, and butter from the grocer, giving the grocer the money from his parents, and bringing the groceries home so he could then spend the rest of that day with Ben without worry. At that point, school had been a necessary evil that took him from his younger friend for several hours a day, and the weekends were precious.

A few minutes later, Reagan steered onto the street with the corner store, some feet away from a gaggle of boys probably a year or two younger than him. He hopped off the bike, kicked down the kickstand, and jogged into the building. After rushing around and almost forgetting the sack of flour—for which his mother Aoife would have promptly yelled at him, as the Gilmores were currently out of bread entirely—he stopped in front of his bike to deposit the groceries into the basket.

"That's a nice bicycle," one of the boys near the front door said to Reagan.

Reagan looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Thanks," he said, his Culchy accent much stronger than it would be in his later life. The group's curiosity seemed to pique at the idea of interacting with an Irish immigrant.

However, when the interaction went no further than that, the other boy shrugged and turned back to his friends. He held out a cap gun for them to ogle and gasp at.

"Whoa!" the smallest boy whispered excitedly. "That's a real doozy!"

"Ain't it hot stuff?" the first boy said proudly. "Got it from Mr. Fiorello. He's got all sorts of things... tin soldiers, planes, you name it." He pretended to shoot the third boy and he brayed with laughter.

Reagan paused as he squeezed the sack of flour into the basket beside the other items stacked somewhat neatly on the opposite side.

"Mr. Fiorello's got model planes?" the boy who got "shot" asked after he stopped laughing. "Any more cap guns?"

"Nah, he's got marble shooters, though," the boy with the cap gun said. "I wanted one of those, but he was askin' too much to trade for it."

"What kinda marbles he got?"

"Didn't see that many. He's got a collection of Lutzes and some banded ones, though."

"He's got Lutzes?!" the smallest boy exclaimed.

Reagan made sure the groceries were secure before walking around to kick up the kickstand and mount the bike once more. He looked up at the other boys as they conversed among themselves for another few seconds.

"What does he want for the Lutzes?" Reagan asked.

The other boys turned to him, and the boy with the cap gun stuck the toy into the waistband of his trousers. "I dunno. He likes rare stuff, though. I heard he traded a pocket watch from the Wild West for a letter from the President!"

Reagan tipped his head and nodded, thinking. "...Where can I find Mr. Fiorello?"

Moments later, Reagan sped even faster back up the road, a plan formulating in his mind as he repeated Mr. Fiorello's address in his head over and over to prevent forgetting. As soon as he got home, he put the groceries away and wrote down the address on a piece of scrap paper, tucking it away under his pillow for safekeeping before riding out to see Ben.

Over the course of the next few days, Reagan gathered all the toys he didn't play with anymore and items he didn't need and set them aside. There wasn't much he could part with... and when rummaging through his box of sentimental things, he realized he couldn't emotionally afford to give away any of them. A very old pocket watch from his late paternal grandfather pierced with a bullet, his father Casey's Claddagh ring he'd planned to give a future love, his mother's old cigarette case that was discontinued by the manufacturer, letters from various cousins and family he didn't speak to even before moving to America.

He put the box away and gathered his old toys—teddies, a jump rope, and some old jacks he hadn't touched in years as well as a few things he'd brought over from Ireland. He dumped them, stored temporarily in an old pillowcase, into the basket of his bike and rode away from home again.

Cycling past the Mertz house, he slowed upon seeing Ben outside, helping his mother fold laundry from the clothesline.

"Hi, Reggie," Ben said with a big smile as he spotted him over the basket of bedsheets. "You wanna go down to the creek?"

Reagan braked, his hands flexing on the handlebars. "Sure do," he said with a grin. "I have to do something first, so go on ahead without me when you can. I'll catch up."

He caught Shoshana Mertz's eye and winked conspiratorially. She gave a sage nod, understanding then that he was off to get Ben a birthday gift and didn't want to broadcast that.

Ben waved Reagan off and Reagan pedaled away, standing to increase his speed.

Mr. Fiorello lived just outside of the neighborhood, in a Victorian house that dwarfed the others. He was sitting on his porch when Reagan pulled up, rocking in a beautiful antique chair and gazing out at the world beyond his house.

Reagan dismounted the bike and approached cautiously, gripping the pillowcase in a fist. "...Mr. Fiorello?"

"Indeed," he said, his voice much deeper than was expected from a weedy man possibly in his late forties. "Whattaya got for me?"

Reagan held up the pillowcase. "I'd...like to trade for your Lutz marbles, sir, if that's alright."

Mr. Fiorello paused his rocking and leaned forward, scrutinizing Reagan with an intense squint. He eyed him, the pillowcase, and the bike, and took out a pair of spectacles from the pocket of his cardigan. He perched them on the bridge of his nose and gestured for Reagan to come closer. "How old are you, kid?"

"Eleven, sir," Reagan said as he ascended the porch steps.

"What's in the bag?"

"Old toys... some from Ireland."

"Hmm." Mr. Fiorello took the bag from him and opened it to look inside. "...These don't look valuable. There's no novelty."

"I really would like those Lutzes, sir," Reagan said, already starting to get nervous.

Mr. Fiorello peered at Reagan again over the rims of his glasses. "D'you happen to know how coveted Lutzes are these days? They're not a cheap commodity—a luxury. Every kid in the neighborhood wants those Lutzes from me."

Reagan swallowed, standing up a bit straighter. "They don't want them for the reasons I do, sir."

With a tilt of the head, Mr. Fiorello handed the pillowcase back. "...And what reasons would those be, exactly?"

"They'd be a gift. A birthday gift for my best friend. He's turning seven soon." Reagan's gaze dropped down to the pillowcase and his brow pinched. "The last two years I've known him, he's wanted those marbles, but his mum can't afford them, either."

"Look me in the eye when you're speaking to me, boy," Mr. Fiorello said, and though the demand was firm, his tone was sympathetic. When Reagan raised his head again, he nodded. "I'd like to help you out, but those toys and knick-knacks aren't things people would want. I bought the Lutzes myself, saving them for something really special. Dunno what that is, yet, but I got 'em just in case."

Reagan clenched his teeth. "What can I give you for them, sir?"

Mr. Fiorello narrowed his eyes again, calculating. "Something worth more than old toys, I'm afraid."

Reagan's grip on the pillowcase tightened. "...Alright." He turned to walk away from the porch, his own mind running overtime.

In his room after coming in from playing with Ben at the creek, Reagan tossed the pillowcase of toys under his bed and dropped on top of the mattress, his head in his hands. He didn't have money, didn't have much of anything that was of any kind of value that wasn't under strict supervision by his parents. The most expensive thing in the house was the sofa, and there was no way he'd be able to justify trading that, let alone get it out of the house himself or inconspicuously.

He dropped his hands and glanced around the room for anything he didn't think about, and his eyes fell onto the box of sentimental items on top of his dresser. His eyebrows lifted—one of the boys from the grocer mentioned Mr. Fiorello collected rare things such as the letter supposedly from Herbert Hoover that he traded out a pocket watch from the Wild West to acquire. Those had monetary value, certainly, but not on the same playing field.

Emotional value. Mr. Fiorello didn't think those old toys held any emotional value.

Reagan slid off the bed and moved to the dresser, looking into the box. The Claddagh ring, the watch, the cigarette case... he stared at those items for a long time, contemplating, considering.

He took the watch out and inspected it in the light. It was the only thing of his grandfather's that he owned. A relic of the Easter Rising, the bullet hole a souvenir from an English soldier attempting to prevent the revolution. Thomas Gilmore survived, but the watch did not.

It's always meant a lot to him that his granddad chose to give him the watch in person rather than any of his cousins, but only then did he realize that it was the most treasured thing he owned.

And Ben was the most treasured person in his life.

He set his jaw and dropped the watch back into the box. He wouldn't be able to go back to Mr. Fiorello's for another few days.

—

"Easter Rising, 1916," Reagan blurted breathlessly, his bike crashing to the ground as soon as he got off of it. He'd barely even braked before he began the trek up Mr. Fiorello's front porch, where the man himself had currently been tending to flower pots under his windows. "A man named Thomas Gilmore barricades the doors of a friend's shop against English soldiers and the RIC. His friend's wife is with child, and the window for getting out of the firefight is closing very quickly."

Mr. Fiorello stood from one of the pots, turning to Reagan, surprise crossing his face as the eleven-year-old grew closer.

Reagan shoved the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows to combat the heat of exertion—he broke his own speed record to get to that house. "Thomas insists that the couple make their escape while he stays back. It almost takes too long to get them out, and the RIC breaks through the barricade. Thomas attempts to fight them off with his bare hands, but an officer shoots him right in the heart."

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the watch, holding it out for Mr. Fiorello to see.

"...Thomas played dead until the RIC moved on. His friend's wife later has a healthy girl, and ten years later, Thomas gives his youngest grandson the watch that saved his life."

Mr. Fiorello, stunned into brief silence, perched his spectacles on his nose and eyed the watch with a war of emotions, not the least of which was awe at the state of it. He picked it up and turned it over to reveal the bullet hadn't even pierced the metal.

"...I'll be damned," he murmured. He looked at Reagan. "The Lord was on your grandfather's side that day."

"I'm willing to give it up for the Lutzes, sir," Reagan said quickly. "I'm willing to give you that watch for the Lutzes, as many as you think it's worth."

Mr. Fiorello's brow pinched with an unmistakable level of concern. "...You're going to give me an irreplaceable moment in history and an incredibly sentimental piece of your grandfather... for a toy?"

Reagan swallowed thickly and nodded. "Ben deserves those marbles. I'd..." His chest tightened as he pictured his grandfather handing him the watch and regaling him with the incredible story of its damage. "...I'd give up my whole box of sentiments to make Ben happy."

This appeared to floor Mr. Fiorello significantly. He looked over the priceless item in his hand again and the frown creasing his forehead deepened. Then, without another word, he turned to walk into his house.

Reagan's hands shook, and when the door closed part of the way, he squatted on the porch, taking a deep breath and begging his grandfather's spirit for forgiveness, for understanding, for the strength he needed to make this decision.

Mr. Fiorello returned a few minutes later carrying an ornate wooden box, and Reagan sprang back up.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Rían. Well, Reagan. Reagan Gilmore, sir."

"Reagan." Mr. Fiorello seemed to appraise Reagan for a further moment before holding the box out to him. "Make sure Ben takes good care of these."

With still-shaky hands, Reagan took the box, running his fingers over the beautiful art-deco carvings painted with thin black lines and inset with gold. He opened the box and was met with a few rows of high-end Lutz marbles, nestled in a bed of an emerald green velvet-like fabric—possibly actual velvet. He let out a slow breath, looking between each swirl of color and glitter within the balls of glass.

"There's a neat feature of this box I've always enjoyed," Mr. Fiorello said quietly. "If you pull this tab here... gently, mind... and lift..."

Reagan used one hand to lift the ribbon folded down in the center of the box, and with it came the whole bottom of the box. The marbles stayed in place on the piece he lifted, and underneath was an empty compartment lined with the same velvet...

...And sat in the middle was Thomas' watch.

"...Sir?" Reagan said, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked up at Mr. Fiorello.

"Don't give away who you are to keep someone happy," Mr. Fiorello said. He tapped the box with a finger. "...This is an incredible sacrifice you were willing to make. But I won't let you make it. I'll give you the marbles because you've given me something far more worth the price than a cherished gift—hope. You've given me hope that the kids of our world will be alright, and you've given me hope that there are categories of love out there in the world that are worth nurturing and cherishing. And if I can be any part of that... I've been well-paid for my wares."

Reagan's eyes sprang with tears, but he bit them back as he carefully replaced the marbles into the box. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Fiorello winked kindly at him. "Write me to let me know how your young friend enjoyed the marbles."

Still numb with disbelief, Reagan wrapped the box in his cardigan and carefully placed it on the bottom of the basket of his bike. Then, with a desperately grateful wave, he rode off, slowly, easily, pushing his tears away with the back of his hand as he pedaled.

—

On the afternoon of February 27th, Reagan arrived at the Mertz house with the box of marbles, sans watch and sensibly wrapped in newspaper tied with butcher's twine. He ate a delicious lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Ben and Shoshana, which Ben was thrilled about since it was his favorite.

"Alright, Benjy," Shoshana said once she cleared the plates and milk glasses. "You've been very patient, so it's time to open your gifts now. Then, we'll have cake."

There was a present from her—a pair of shoes Ben had been vying for over the last few months—and a gift that was somewhat of a tradition, symbolically from the deceased father he never met, which was a shiny red model airplane. Ben opened these gifts with mirth and appreciation, giving Shoshana a big hug. He was old enough to start realizing the situation of the economy and the state of his family's finances, so the significance of those gifts did not go unnoticed.

Then, he unwrapped Reagan's gift. His eyes bugged out of his head and his jaw dropped as soon as he opened the box.

"Holy SMOKES!" Ben bellowed. "Are these Lutzes?!"

"Yeah," Reagan said a bit shyly. "I know you'd wanted new marbles, and I figured—"

Ben threw himself at Reagan and planted a very enthusiastic if not brief kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, he was beaming brighter than the sun and lit the whole room with it.

"You're the best friend a boy could ever have!" Ben praised, pulling Reagan into a tight embrace. "Thank you, thank you!"

Reagan, however, was rendered utterly dazed. He raised a numb hand to pat Ben's back, then found himself returning the embrace, all but rocking side to side with him as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

Something was born in that exact moment, something powerful and indestructible. The love he had for Ben solidified in his chest, wrapping around his heart like a fortress of magma, warming his soul from the inside out. The joy his friend showed him just from receiving the most emotionally harrowing gift he'd ever given anyone was enough to level buildings, and Reagan became addicted to how it made him feel. Completely and totally dependent on that feeling.

He'd dedicate his entire life to necessary sacrifices for Ben, to wringing that joy out of him, to making sure Ben knew he was the center of his universe. Even past the unconditional and indescribable love he'd have for his children later on, Ben would be the Earth to his moon and the sun to his Earth.

He knew, the second Ben kissed him, that he would be nothing without him.

[firephoenix23]

So I know a lot of the pilots of Disney shows have been going around but someone sent me the pilot of what slugterra was going to be and I thought I would talk about it because it is interesting. First off it’s really short only about 3 minutes but basically it’s Eli or Elias Stone chasing what looks to be Dr. Blakk with Pronto or Pinto as he is called in the short

I want to apologize in advance some of these photos are not the best quality but I did what I had to. First off Slugterra was not originally called that it was called Subterrainea which thank god they changed it that is kind of a mouth full and it was a lot more western than sci-fi western we get later. Like even the blasters look like guns.

But let’s address the elephant in the room, why does Eli looks so ugly in this show 😂😂 and so much younger too. I feel like in the current show they make Eli look younger by making everyone around him look jacked as fuck even though all the younger male models look buff as well. But in this show he literally looks like a middle schooler. And I guess Trixie is like his friend from school who is the only one who knows about his adventures to Subterrainea. We don’t know if she goes with him or not but she at least knows. But thank god they changed Eli’s color scheme to blue, orange, white, and black. He’s a little better to look at than green, red, and pale yellow. I do wonder why all the changes though. I’m going to be wondering that the whole time

Which is the other thing I want to address is that Eli or well ELIAS and BEATRIX go to SCHOOL! We don’t know if Elias is like the protector or just goes down for the lols but we do know that he is trying to juggle this secret double life of going to school like a normal kid but also protecting the secret of Subterrainea like wow NEVER heard that premise for a kid show before 😒

That’s why I’m glad they cut out the surface all together but kept the secret part. I think it makes more of an impact in slugterra especially since it’s like who knows what. Also it just makes more sense. Like what kid would escape the world of slugterra travel 100 miles up just to go to middle school. Like nah fam couldn’t be me. Also I don’t actually know if they are in middle school but come on look at them.

Pinto is literally just Pronto even down to the voice acting. I like that they had the comic relief character down first before the main character. Also funny note did you know that Pronto in canon has a twin brother named Pinto. In ROTE Will Shane says like oh I’ve met you before and Pronto says no you’ve met my identical twin brother Pinto. I just think it’s funny that it’s a little nod to his pilot name

Uh Dr. Blakk kinda looks the same except for the hat and the mecha beast. It didn’t look like he was using ghouls just regular slugs so I’m not sure what Elias is chasing him down for. Elias shows Beatrix that he got a slug from him and then she touches it and the school lights go out which brings in SOOO many questions. Like is the surface electricity powered by slug energy???

I was gonna mention the slugs next but they are relatively the same except design wise. They look a lot more stylized and detailed than in the show which makes sense gotta save money where you can. Be honestly I’m glad they changed them some of them are kinda ugly like the joker looking one.

There are so many other things like why did they change Eli’s last name, why did they give him a white wolf mecha instead of the white horse (probably because it looks cooler not gonna lie), why is Elias Stone so ugly 😂😂 so many questions. But I think it’s just cool what slugterra could have been. It gives me such nostalgia for the late 2000s/early 2010s DisneyXD shows like Randy Cunningham, Kick Buttowski, Max Steel. Like all the EdGy boy cartoons that I somehow ended up watching as a little girl 😅

I mean I just looked and season wise and success wise Slugterra stomps them all. I mean which show has its own Roku channel the one and only Slugterra baby! 😂 But anyway I’m glad they made the changes that they did.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for having impure thoughts and insulting God?

i (18F) am a devout christian, and have always maintained a dedication to save myself for marriage. unfortunately, i’ve recently begun having… impure thoughts… which i believe have been invoked by our school’s star football player (18M) who i’ll call J (not the Big J though!)

now, J is highly feared by a lot of kids at school. he’s very violent and frequently bullies kids he considers nerdy prudes. i overheard a group of nerds discussing wanting to get back at him, so naturally i got involved and took the lead

our plan was, we lure him to an abandoned house and jump out at him dressed as ghosts, filming it to show to the whole school how embarrassingly scared he got

of course, given how violent and aggressive he was, he opted to instead try to fight the ghosts, endangering some of the nerds. we put it to a stop and revealed ourselves before anyone could get hurt, and he was surprisingly delighted by our surprise for him

unfortunately. the floor he was standing on collapsed, sending him down three stories, wear he was impaled on wood. we rushed to him, and with his final breaths he swore revenge

now, everyone was obviously freaking out, so i decided to be the reasonable one. i told everyone we needed to get rid of the body. there was too much evidence that would suggest we lured him here with the intent to kill him, so chopping him up into pieces and hiding him beneath the floorboards seemed like the most logical solution

honestly i was really relieved he died. my impure thoughts went away after his death so clearly this was an act of god. J deserved to die or else he wouldn’t have died, simple as that

two months passed, and our school greatly improved now that J was gone. everyone got along great!

until one of the nerds who helped with the plan got killed, a note written in blood left at the crime scene. J’s last words

even worse, though, was the fact that the police discovered J’s body and an investigation had been opened up

i came up with a plan to cover our tracks by going to the police station and attempting to frame our rival town for the murder, but the police had already gained a lot of evidence that i was there at the crime scene (having found my WWJD bracelet at the scene of the crime)

i explained to the police that J’s death was an act of god, and in my rage i…….. well im very ashamed to admit this. but i called God…… a son of a b word…..

i was able to steal an officer’s gun and get away on my bicycle, but now another one of the nerds is dead and i’m very worried

but most of all i’m worried about my soul! first those horrible horrible thoughts J cursed me with, then i called God the b word! what is wrong with me!

[letitrott]

Bowers gang x Goth Reader PART 3 Belch Route - CHOOSE YOUR OWN STORY

Option A: Spend lunch with Belch

PART 1 Intro (CLICK ME)

PART 2 Science class "With Belch" (FOR THIS POST)

PART 2 (CLICK ME) Mother link all story options

Part 3 (CLICK ME) Mother link all story options

Warnings: Un wanted touching and Rough treatment

*You both walked out of class together and down the stairs as your hair swayed in the light breeze. You couldn't help but notice Belch staring you smiled at him playfully.* Belch: Hey Um I don't know if this is too soon but do you want to take lunch early? Reader: You wanna take off somewhere? Its only second period!? Belch: Yeah but schools a waste can't really get to know you better. I don't think we share any other classes... Reader: Hmmm *you dig out some paper in your pocket* Do you have any of these other classes? Belch: Noo...Come on the teachers here don't even give a shit Reader: I'm sure that comes with your reputation *you tease* Belch: Nah all that's not really me.... Reader: So why are you In the gang then?...I've heard whispers...

Belch: Don't worry about it, you know me so you know the gang. Reader: This Henry guy isn't looking for me! Or DID HE SEND YOU *you faked a hurt and betrayed expressions* Belch: Now your just being dramatic... Reader: Fine..I guess I'll accept your lil Date Invitation *you walk in front of him as he watches you fade away slowly* Belch: Hey Wait up! I still didn't catch your name... *He jogs up to you* Reader: Lilith *you smiled* Belch: Well... Definitely suits you *he chuckles* Reader: *you punch him lightly in the arm* Not funny Huggins! *You smiled playfully as he followed you to your locker* *You dawned the hallways crowded by kids and the smell of B.O, Drunk Elephant and In the Clouds body spray (its a joke). You bring your hand to your nose to drown out the unpleasant smell. The over active atmosphere bothering you a little too. Belch followed closely behind you glaring at all the heads that would sway your way as you graced the halls. Something you failed to notice what you did notice was this group of boys one leaning against a locker, another two standing chatting away. They looked larger and seemed to intimidate most of the other students, you frowned moving closer*

Belch: Oh hey you must not like how crowded it is in here *he grabs your hand talking a forced detour* Reader: *His large hands felt very warm and he was gentle in his approach you didn't mind following his lead* Belch: *let go for your hand apologising* Sorry I didn't mean too... Reader: I can tell you think to much *you wrap your arm around his large bicep as you smiled reassuring him* Reader: Now that I think about it...I don't need shit from my locker Belch: Aight to the car it is *Belch Failed to notice The Gang watching him* Henry: What's up with that *he gets off the locker glancing at Victor* Victor: Don't look at me... Patrick: You think Belch is trying to hide her from us *he smirks* Victor: Come on Pat just let the guy enjoy himself *he laughs* Henry: It's the new girl.... Victor: The one we have been waiting in these dork filled halls for! Patrick: *smirks* Well this should be fun *Patrick and Victor follow behind Henry as they start following after you and Belch.* Belch: *Looks over his shoulder clearly seeing a very pissed of looking Henry approaching. He starts walking faster towards the trans am opening the door for you as you hop in shot gun* Belch: Shit..*he cusses*

Henry: *Taps on the window opening the door* Hello beautiful your in my seat... *He says seductively Reader: *You noticed they were the boys from the locker room earlier. You turn back to belch giving him "you could have said something look" before getting up* Reader: Sorry *looking down at your feet as you get out trying to not draw attention to yourself* Henry: Look at me when I talk to you *he cooed* Reader: *Your Glassy eyes met with his blue ones as you were about to walk away from the Amy (the trans am). Patrick: Where are you running off too... Your other boyfriend *he blocking your path way, towering over you as he loomed closer* Henry: *had sat down fling his arm around your waist prompting you to sit down on your lap* Henry: It's ok baby Doll just ask if you want to sit on me so badly... Reader: I don't want to sit with you.. *you stated flatly* Patrick: *Closes the door on you both as you see the Blond haired boy and the creepy brunette make their way to the other doors, opening them and sitting in the back of the car. Unfazed* Reader: *you glare at Henry*

Henry: Don't look at me like that.. *his leather hands bringing out the paleness in yours as he cupped your cheek admiring your features* Henry: You yourself a mysterious one Huh Belch *his voice not sounding overly pleased* Reader: *you turn your head away from Henry glaring at Belch very pissed that you were now in this situation. You were definitely going to lecture him later* Patrick: *snickering at the back amused but that wasn't enough* Patrick: *Reaches out touching a couple strands of you glossy dark locks*

Reader: You swat his hand away *frowning angrily* Patrick: *Smirks before tagging your head back by your hair as your neck was exposed looking at the ceiling of the car. His head next to you as your eyes peered into each others* Belch: *snaps grabbing a fist full on Patricks hair* YOU FUCKING WATCH YOURSELF PATRICK! *He was pissed* Victor: *Face palming visibly already drained a the mess being created* Henry: *glances over at Patrick as he let go. Belch also letting go of Patrick* Henry: Where do you wanna go cutie...*his hands brushing some strands away from your face* Reader: *you turn away refusing to look at any of them..* Victor: We can go to my place my parents are out Henry: Nah I wanna let the cutie choose *he smirks* Reader: Your awfully tolerant Bowers...*you spat* Henry: *his hands grip your thighs the skin turning white, the pressure leaving nail marks* Henry: Watch it cutie don't make me put you in your place...*his temper changing sporadically*

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE !!!

A. Victors place B. The Mall

[mjonthetrack]

Inside the House – Seconds After the Final Shot

Nobody moved at first. Just the sound of a body thudding outside and the echo of that last shot hanging in the walls like a ghost.

Imani stood clutching Sade to her chest, her heart racing so loud she couldn’t hear much else. Tasha had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with that nurse-but-from-the-block fear and awe, and Jacob stood frozen, knuckles white around the doorframe.

Josh was the first to breathe.

“The hell just happened?”

Imani’s voice was low, stunned. “She just cleared a whole van.”

Solo stepped forward cautiously, peeking through the curtains, eyebrows lifted damn near to his hairline.

“Yo. She—she really laid ‘em out. I mean, bodies down.”

Jimmy whistled under his breath. “We wasn’t even dressed yet.”

Roman, still in basketball shorts, rubbed his jaw with a slow grin.

“She came out like it was a damn action movie... Did she even flinch?”

Josh shook his head, forehead tense. “Man, I was standing here feelin’ like I was gon’ rush out and back her up—shorty told us don’t move like we was kids.”

Jacob looked at his girl. “Bae, you ain’t tell me your coworker was like that.”

Tasha just shook her head, still dazed. “She not my coworker. She’s Imani’s cousin.”

They all looked to Imani now, Sade quiet against her chest.

“Explain. Now.”

Out Front – Post-Bloodshed

By the time Josh stepped outside, Ebony had tossed her blood-spattered tank top in the trash and was already barefoot, walking back up the porch steps like she just took out the trash instead of three grown men.

“Y’all good now?” she asked, like she didn’t smell like gunpowder and burnt oil.

Josh blinked, glancing at the sprawled figures by the van.

“...You good?”

She snorted. “Please. I been waitin’ for the day.”

Then she handed her purse to Solo on instinct and muttered, “Hold that. Don’t go diggin’ through it unless you wanna find a burner, some blunts, and my good edge control.”

Solo blinked, holding it like it was ticking.

“I’ma clean up,” Ebony said over her shoulder, walking inside. “Ain’t no need for no hero speech. Just lemme borrow a towel and I’ll be out y’all way.”

Imani Explains – While Ebony Showers

Imani sank into the couch with Sade finally dozing against her chest.

“She was sixteen when she first got locked up. Caught a boy slippin’ talkin’ crazy about me on a Memphis trip... busted his lip open with a bike chain and lit a Newport after like it was nothing.”

The room was silent.

“She could hotwire a car in under five minutes by the time she was seventeen. Could roll a blunt one-handed and did time for throwin’ a dude through a windshield. That was for stealin’ her homegirl’s EBT.”

Solo blinked. “She sound like a myth.”

Imani smirked. “Nah. She real. Got the record to prove it.”

Roman shook his head. “She got aim like that off instinct?”

“Please,” Tasha jumped in from the hallway, “I saw her pop the head off a beer bottle from across the porch once. Said she practiced with her uncles in Compton shootin’ at soda cans.”

Jimmy low-whistled. “She tuck her guns in Timbs?”

Imani nodded. “Still do.”

Josh glanced toward the hallway where the bathroom door was shut, steam already drifting out.

“She always like that?”

Imani looked up, a little sad, a little proud. “She ain’t never been soft. But she love hard. Especially me. Used to walk me to school even when she was suspended. Sang spirituals at grandma’s funeral, then rolled up and poured a forty on the grave like it was both a homegoing and a hood send-off.”

The room stayed still for a second longer.

Then Tasha finally exhaled and said, “...I kinda want her to adopt me.”

They all laughed, tension cracking like light through a window.

———

The front door creaked open, and just like that, she was back.

No drama. No slow motion. Just presence.

Ebony stepped out onto the porch like the hallway didn’t still smell like gunpowder and lavender body wash. Skin still dewy from the hot water, hair laid back under a satin wrap, edges unbothered. Fresh tank top hugging her curves, soft gray sweats hanging low on her hips, a gold anklet glinting when she stepped barefoot into the warm air.

Cold, dark brown eyes scanned the porch, then the yard like it didn’t just play host to a miniature war zone.

She didn’t ask if they were okay. Didn’t offer comfort or apologies.

She just rolled her shoulders once, that slow unbothered roll like she was loosening up before a workout and asked Josh:

“Y’all got somethin’ better than that weak ass beer? I just risked a fresh set.”

Josh blinked, still stuck somewhere between awe and a prayer of thanks.

“I—uh, we might got some dark in the cabinet.”

Ebony arched one brow. “That better not be no off-brand brown, neither. I need somethin’ that burn a little. And don’t hand me no tequila—I ain’t tryna end up pregnant or in jail again.”

Roman huffed a laugh from the corner. “Ain’t it a little late for that second one?”

She side-eyed him, no smile on her face. “Cute.”

Solo, still holding her purse like it might bite, cleared his throat. “You want this back or…?”

Ebony stepped over and snatched it back without breaking stride, her voice bored. “Put it down next time before I think you tryna run off with it.”

She stepped into the kitchen like she owned it, pulling a tall glass from the cabinet like it was her own house.

“Y’all got juice? I mix my dark with peach punch or I don’t drink at all.”

Jimmy whispered to Tasha, “She might be the scariest woman I ever met.”

Tasha nodded slowly. “And somehow still the most graceful.”

Josh was still standing frozen, glancing at the empty beer bottle in his hand like it had personally let him down.

Ebony clinked a glass on the counter. “Aight, somebody point me to the good brown. I just aired out a van and my ass is thirsty.”

Imani, rocking baby Sade in her arms, smirked over the top of her curls and said, “Welcome to the family reunion, y’all.”

And like that—Ebony was here.

Unbothered, undefeated, and pouring herself a drink like she didn’t just drag hell to their doorstep and walk away without a scratch.

———

Ebony leaned back into the corner of the couch, one knee drawn up, her chain glinting every time she tilted her glass. Baby hairs still slick, nails clinking against the cup, and that smooth drawl was laced with a drunken ease but sharp like a switchblade.

“I’on even like talkin’ about prison too much,” she said, swirling her drink slow. “But lemme tell y’all somethin’…”

Everyone was real quiet. Even Roman stopped pretending he wasn’t listening.

Ebony smirked at the silence. “See, last time a bitch thought she was funny? Thought I was soft ‘cause I ain’t jump when she threw that tray at me?”

She took another sip, slow.

“I made a shank outta a rat tail comb. The kind you use to lay them baby hairs.”

Solo blinked. “Like… like the plastic ones?”

“Plastic and petty,” Ebony nodded. “Snapped it clean in half, then ground that edge down till it could slide through skin like butter.”

Tasha snorted into her cup.

Josh blinked hard. “Yo.”

“I ain’t do nothin’ at first,” Ebony said, eyes half-lidded. “I let her talk. Let her call me Compton Barbie, made jokes about my curls. Called me soft ‘cause I cried at my grandmama funeral. But see, what they ain’t know is I’d already filed my teeth by the time I was fifteen and I was learnin’ pressure points while they was worried ‘bout lip gloss and commissary snacks.”

Imani groaned, shaking her head like she’d heard this a million times. “Lord.”

Ebony shot her a wink and kept going.

“Anyway, she tried me in the shower block—figured I’d be caught slippin’. That was the last time she tried anybody. She still walkin’ funny, and I don’t lose sleep.”

Solo straightened. “That’s… terrifying.”

Ebony clinked her glass on the table. “That’s life.”

Jimmy whispered, “Remind me not to ever argue with her.”

Josh glanced at Imani, who just smiled and kissed the baby’s forehead.

“Y’all thought I was the crazy one,” she murmured.

Ebony cracked her neck, leaning back into the couch with the kind of peace only people who been through it got.

“Now where the hell that second bottle at? Don’t make me get creative again.”

Tasha got up immediately. “I got you, sis.”

——-

The sun was dipping low, casting that gold light across the porch and the front lawn. The compound was calm—baby asleep, Imani kicked up in the living room, the fellas inside whisper-talking about how not a single one of them was gonna be the one to tell Ebony to turn her music down.

Outside, the deep bass of Kendrick’s “Element” shook her customized '84 Cutlass as it sat parked sideways in the gravel. Chrome shining. Candy paint catching light. Ebony stood leaned against the driver’s side door, bottle of dark half-gone in her left hand, blunt fat in her right. She had one leg cocked up behind her, ankles laced in gold, standing tall in her cutoff shorts and tank top that read "I Said What I Said."

Smoke coiled around her face as she hit that blunt like she was inhaling peace itself. Her voice was loud, cutting through Kendrick’s flow like she was on the track.

"Last time I checked, I was the man on these streets— They call me residue, I leave blow on these beats—"

Her gold grills flashed every time she smirked at a bar, eyes dancing like somebody who knew exactly who she was and didn’t give a single fuck who couldn't keep up. Her hoop earrings bounced while she rapped through smoke and lyrics, letting the music carry her. That hood gospel.

Josh peeked out the window.

“She good?” he asked nobody in particular.

Imani chuckled. “She vibin’. That’s how she unwinds.”

Solo, watching her from the couch like she was some damn urban legend, just muttered, “That ain’t unwindin’. That’s dominance.”

Back outside, Ebony rapped with her chest, eyes half-lidded, riding the beat like she’d been born into it. She took another hit, her tongue poking against her cheek, gold and attitude gleaming under the porch light. She looked out across the yard like she owned the whole damn block.

And in that moment?

She did.

——-

Inside the compound, it was one of those moments where everybody was doing something but not really doing anything.

The music outside was rich and steady, the heavy thrum of Kendrick’s “Loyalty” vibrating through the walls like a second heartbeat. That old-school bass line melted into the evening air, and the scent of good weed drifted in just enough to remind them all that Ebony was still very much outside.

Imani glanced up from where she was folding a blanket on the couch, noticing the flicker in Roman’s posture. He was by the window, arms crossed, pretending to be on some casual lean—but his eyes? His eyes were locked on the figure out front.

Ebony.

She was sitting on the hood of her classic like it was a throne, legs crossed at the ankle, bottle now down to a third. Her gold anklet glinted in the porch light, blunt held between two long, ringed fingers. Her hair was wrapped in a bonnet, but the attitude? Untouched. She rapped along to the beat, mouthing Kendrick’s lyrics with a smirk, her shoulders swaying like she was born with rhythm in her blood.

Roman didn’t say nothin’. Just stood there like he wasn’t watching.

Which was exactly why Imani called it out with a knowing smirk.

“Uh-huh,” she hummed, eyes playful as she turned to Tasha. “You see Unc over there tryna pretend he ain’t watchin’ my cousin like she the whole sunset?”

Tasha busted out laughing. “He might as well go on and cool it now,” she said, sipping her drink. “Ain’t no amount of arm folding gonna hide that curiosity.”

“I’m sayin’,” Imani added, laughing soft. “That ain’t casual leanin’, that’s a whole visual investigation.”

Roman shot them a sidelong look, jaw tight, but said nothing. Tasha grinned and raised a brow.

“She don’t bite, Roman,” she teased. “Unless you ask her to.”

That made Imani snort and hold her chest.

Outside, Ebony glanced back toward the window, smirking like she knew—like she felt them eyes on her. She flicked ash off the blunt and rapped the next bar without breaking her gaze.

And Roman?

He was real quiet now. But the air around him? Charged. Like maybe—just maybe—the wrong one finally caught his attention.

——

Outside, the compound’s porch light spilled warm over the drive, and the details glowed under it like a crown. “HUMBLE.” by Kendrick dropped in hard, that heavy beat kicking off like it was announcing something.

Ebony had switched tracks mid-puff, perched on her hood like royalty from Compton, gold glinting under the stars. Her tank top clung to her body, tattoos peeking out bold and unapologetic. That blunt between her lips? Burnin’ slow and sweet.

Then the screen door creaked open.

The twins stepped out first, Jimmy with a slight bop in his step, Solo cool as ever with a slight tilt to his snapback. Jacob trailed behind with a lazy smirk, a lighter already flicking between his fingers.

Ebony glanced over at ‘em, not surprised in the slightest, just lifted her chin like, “Took y’all long enough.”

Jimmy let out a low whistle. “Aye, this what we doin’ out here?” he said, nodding to the vibe, to the bass still vibrating under them.

“Y’all late,” Ebony said around a smile, passing the blunt without pause. “Music been preachin’. You just now pulled up to church.”

Solo chuckled, taking his hit with a respectful nod. “Mmm,” he exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly. “Shit hittin’ like South Central Sundays.”

“Facts,” Jacob added, settling beside her on the Monte Carlo hood. “You out here like every woman who raised us, taught us how to shoot and season chicken.”

Ebony laughed at that, head tilted back, smoke curling from her lips like a halo. “As they should’ve. Real ones don’t come off the assembly line, baby. We handmade.”

Imani stepped out a moment later, catching the last of the comment as she dropped down on the porch steps. Her energy matched her cousin’s—cut from that same cloth but softened around the edges now that life had slowed just enough to let her breathe.

“Don’t let her fool y’all,” Imani said with a grin. “She was the blueprint before I even hit middle school. Knocked a boy’s teeth out for talkin’ slick about me.”

Ebony smirked. “And I’d do it again.”

The blunt passed around as HUMBLE. spilled through the speakers. Everyone in sync with the beat, noddin’ and vibin’, no one rushing the moment.

It was one of those rare, golden nights—Detroit air heavy with music, smoke, and good company. Where pasts didn’t need to be explained, just felt. Where respect wasn’t asked for—it was earned and shared in silence, a blunt, and a bass line.

——-

The sun wasn’t even all the way up yet, just peeking shy over the trees as that cool Detroit morning air settled soft over the compound. Most of the house was still knocked out—shoes scattered by doors, a half-finished blunt in the ashtray, and that lived-in hush of a house full of love and chaos alike.

But not Ebony.

She moved through the house like she’d always lived there, like the walls knew her footsteps. An old Ol' Dirty Bastard tee hung off one shoulder, stretched and faded but clearly loved. No pants—just some black cotton undies, a tattooed thigh flashing with every step. She scratched at her hair under her bonnet, gold anklet jingling faint on the hardwood as she grabbed a bottle of water off the counter.

Didn’t say nothin’ to nobody. Just slid the front door open quiet, stepped out barefoot like the earth owed her peace, and eased down into the porch chair.

The neighborhood was still. Dew on the grass, breeze just right. She leaned back with a small groan, legs propped on the porch rail, and cracked open the water. No music this time. No smoke. Just her and the quiet. The kind of quiet you had to earn.

A moment later, she muttered low to herself, “Ain’t nothin’ like bein’ out the way,” and closed her eyes for a beat, letting that morning peace settle into her bones.

She’d earned this. Every soft breath of it.

———

The house was just starting to stir. Doors creaked open. Somebody cursed loud ‘bout missing socks. The smell of coffee mingled with leftover cologne and last night’s smoke. But out on that front porch, Ebony was still in her peace, legs stretched, ODB tee hanging off her like a whisper, thick thighs inked up and catching glints of sun.

Jimmy was the first one out, rubbing sleep from his eyes, then Josh with a brush in his hand, half-heartedly running it over his curls.

Josh chuckled when he saw her. “Damn, sis. You ain’t even try to put no damn pants on?”

She cracked one eye open, not moving a muscle. “Y’all lucky I put drawers on.”

Jimmy whistled low, “You wild.”

Then Jacob hollered from inside, “We runnin’ a quick game out back. Y’all scared or what?”

Ebony sat up slow, bones crackin’, neck rolling side to side like she was lining up a hit. “Scared? Scared of what? You little boys? Please.”

Josh and Jimmy exchanged that look—like this about to be funny.

She stood smooth, long legs on display, tattoos dancing over brown skin, still barefoot. “Y’all better hope I’m rusty. I’ll drop thirty in this ODB and panties. Easy.”

Jimmy barked a laugh. “You not even stretched, old lady.”

Roman had come around the corner at that exact second, trying to keep it casual, arms crossed—but his eyes? Locked on the way that oversized tee just barely skimmed the curve of her ass, how them legs moved with purpose as she stepped off the porch.

Ebony caught him looking, smirked as she walked past. “Better keep your eyes on the scoreboard, not the snacks, Big Dog.”

Josh damn near wheezed at the audacity. Jimmy threw his arm over Josh’s shoulder. “Bro, she about to run y’all pockets and ego.”

Roman didn’t say a word—just followed. Silent. Watching. But his jaw tightened, and that hoodie sleeve got pushed up just a little. Game or not, he was already warming up.

———

They should’ve known better.

Ball hit the pavement out back and it was on before the warmup. Ebony barely even tied her curls up—just yanked her shirt off one shoulder and stepped up to the line, still in her ODB tee, thick thighs on display, anklet catching sun. No shoes. No bra. Just vibes and venom.

Josh, Jimmy, and Jacob thought it was gonna be a laugh, a light run. Roman stayed quiet, leaned against the fence, arms folded, eyes hawking the whole setup.

First play? Ebony hit Jacob with a fake so clean his knees buckled. He hit the ground slow, groaning like he’d aged ten years. “Damn, Uce,” Josh yelled, wheezing.

“You good?” Ebony called sweet as pie, pulling the ball back with one hand. “That knee sound like a bag of chips.”

Next was Josh. He tried bodyin’ her up—gentle, respectful. She spun on him so fast his hair caught wind. Step-back. Three-pointer. Wet.

“Boy,” she muttered, jogging back. “If you gon’ guard me, guard me. I ain’t ya girl, I’m your problem.”

Jimmy caught the rebound, tried to make something shake. She stole it clean, took off, and—boom—blocked his next shot with one hand. The thud echoed. Jimmy looked back like he’d seen a ghost.

Roman? He was standing now. Chin lifted. Trying to stay unreadable. But his eyes were sharp, following every move, lip twitching like he was fighting a smirk.

Ebony, meanwhile, was in rare form. Talking cash shit the whole game.

“Josh, you tired, baby? Need a juice box?” “Jimmy, pass that rock before you embarrass yourself again.” “Jacob, just sit your fine lil washed-up self on the bench—get you some water.”

Sweat glistened off her, that t-shirt clinging in all the right ways, her body gliding like she’d been built for the court and the chaos. She hit a last-minute jumper and jogged backward with her hands in the air, laughing breathless. “Game. Set. Washed.”

The guys doubled over, groaning, trying to laugh through the bruised egos.

And from the corner of her eye, she saw Roman step closer. Not saying nothing, just clapping slow, that little proud-turned-sinister grin curling his lips like oh, she one of them ones.

Ebony wiped her brow with the hem of her tee and looked at him sideways.

“What?” she challenged. “You want next?”

Roman’s smile curled deeper. “I want something, that’s for sure.”

Josh hollered loud, stumbling backward. “Ayyyo! Somebody get unc!”

Ebony just winked, tossing the ball right to Roman’s chest. “Hope you stretch first, Big Dog. I don’t go easy ‘cause your beard full.”

The war had officially begun.

[ningningspapafrita]

BELLA

CHAPTER 4.

I'M A BAD KINDA PLAYER

"All right, y'all. Gather 'round and whatnot." Kun calls out.

No thanks to Xiaojun they're now stuck with 4 of Ten's strange gang members. Unfortunately, they had time to spare, so here they are, in the parking lot of club wayv.

"So, seriously, this is what's gonna happen now before we get on this job. It's time for us all to get to know each other a little bit better."

The men in front stare at him with nervous anticipation, wondering what he's about to say or do. Kun's face is stern, betraying no emotion except for determination and authority. It was clear he was about to provide a serious lecture, but to Xiaojun, it was clear that the man was about to pull something out his ass to kill time. He goes along with it regardless.

Kun claps his hands. "We're gonna go in a circle, first of all, and everyone's gonna say their name and two things about yourself. For instance." Kun pats himself on the chest. "My name is Shark Tank, and I ran hurdles in high school. And I like to hold my gun like this." Kun finishes by tilting his hand sideways for demonstration. Which seems to impress Yang Yang. "So, that's me."

It was now Xiaojun's turn, according to Kun, who stared at him awkwardly. Xiaojun eyes the other men with wide eyes. "I'm tectonic. I once shot two dudes with one bullet, and I went to an exclusive early screening of the Blair Witch Project."

Kun had been the only one surprised. "You did?"

"Yup, and that was before we even knew it was real or not." Xiaojun smirked. Kun nods in approval. "That's right. People thought that shit was real." Kun scanned his eyes over the 4 men and lands on Hendery. "Go on, mothafucka."

"I'm Hendery." He clears his throat. "And I got into gang bangin' after I got stabbed by my mom."

"I'm gonna need two things, though." Kun hadn't really known what to do with this information, but he could tell it wouldn't get better.

"And my grandma." Hendery groans. Kun and Xiaojun got quiet for a moment before Kun stuttered out. "Well... you know them family reunions get crazy sometimes, man. Thanks for sharing brother."

Yang Yang enthusiastically steps up next. "What's up? My name is Yang Yang, but they call me Trunk. I got a knock-out left hook." Yang Yang punches the air for show and steps back with a smile. "And I got my name because I accidentally locked my car keys in my trunk once."

Kun had felt a moment of relief, a genuine smile even crossed his face. This one seemed to be the youngest. "It happens to the best of us, Yang yang."

"With a dead body." Yang Yang adds.

You got to be kidding me. Kun face drops. "Oh, okay... well, you know. Trunk is a better name than, Dead Body." He laughs out painfully.

Xiaojun breathed in the cool air and caught a wiff of a strong blunt. "What about you?" He gestures over to Lucas. Maybe he would be different?

"Lucas." Lucas states plainly. Kuns brows furrowed at the lack of explanation. "And?... Two things about yourself?"

Judging by the look on the man's face he hadn't given, not one damn as he puts his blunt out against the skin on his palm. "NAH, BITCH."

Kun and Xiaojun grimace at the response and collect themselves. "Okay, you know what, Shark Tank? I think in his own way... Lucas did share something about himself." Xiaojun comments. "We should move on."

Last but not least, winwin steps up. "I'm WinWin. First off, I don't like assholes I don't know. Second, I'm real curious about what exactly went down at the Smtown church massacre."

Winwins question seemed to have riled up the other men as they listened intently. Xiaojun tipped his head and inhaled a lungful of air, avoiding the question. slowly, he releases his breath.

He opened his eyes, and his gaze jumped from each of the guys. "Now that we all know things about each other. So let's knock this job out real quick."

Yang yang interrupts him. "Was it really like word on the street, Tectonic?"

"W- What was word on the street?" Xiaojun voiced out, not quite sure he heard him right. But Yang yang only nods.

"Blood bath. Hundred executions."

Xiaojun reluctantly agrees. "Y- yup. At least a hundred."

"Hundred and one." Kun corrects. At this rate, he might just call himself a lunatic.

Unfortunately enough, Hendery begins to pile on information, only aiding in the others' curiosity even more. "And you ran up a wall and did a backflip and came down and was still shooting bitches!" Hendery exclaimed.

This was a disaster, but Kun could only agree nonetheless, they did this to themselves anyway. "Damn straight. Did that, too, mothafucka."

"Well show us."

"Hmm?"

"Show us!" WinWin repeats with an unconvinced smile as gestures out to the parking lot with open arms.

"The flip?" Kun mutters. The group nod their heads and begin to back up for room. Xiaojun steps up to defend their case. "All right, let me explain somethin' to y'all real quick. It ain't gonna be like, you think. Now Ten told you guys -"

Unbeknownst to Xiaojun, his cousin had been behind him stretching before running towards the clubs stone wall, doing a swift run-off-the-wall backflip.

"OH SHIT!"

"YOOO"

"DID YOU SEE THAT?"

The others shouted out in surprise.

"He flipped it." Xiaojun grins as Kun walks back over with a shocked expression only he could see.

"So, next time we tell y'all we did somethin'." Xiaojun spoke as kun chuckled beside him. "Take our word that we did somethin'!"

Xiaojun's heart nearly leaps out his throat when WinWin points to him. "Now let's see you do it."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your turn, motherfucker."

Xiaojun swears he could hear the funeral bells from where he stands. He wants to cry. Do I try? He thought as he came up with an excuse.

"Only Shark Tanks flipping today."

"That's right, mothafucka, only I'm flippin' today, y'all."

"We alternate flip days." Xiaojun reasoned with an unnoticeable shiver in his voice.

"He ain't flipping today." Kun said with a straight face.

Xiaojun sizes the men up and flicks his wrist. "But I'll flip the fuck outta that shit tomorrow."

"Ooh yeah." Kun adds.

Thankfully, WinWin's phone beeped with a message from ten. "Hey, let's flip the subject, and let's flip some Holy Shit."

You don't have to tell them twice. Kun begins to lead the men to his car. "Hey, I don't think you're all gonna fit in my car, by the way."

---

They, in fact, did fit in his car, and they'd been driving for at least 3 hours considering how the sun had already set not so long ago.

Hendery had been looking out the window and scratching his nose when a question left his lips. "Yo, Shark, no disrespect, now, Man, but why you drive this weak-ass van?"

Kun scoffs. "You wanna get caught, go ahead, drive a little drug car." He says, glancing over to Hendery in the passenger seat. "But if you wanna never get pulled over again, you drive an inconspicuous family vehicle."

Xiaojun pokes his head up from the back seat. "Inconspicuous, least hardcore, motherfuckin' soccer mom, fuller house thing.-"

"Where we going again?."

Kun looks over to WinWin, dismissing Xiaojun with frustration clear in his voice. He loved his god damn soccer mom van.

"Just keep going straight and make a left." Winwin responds.

The rest of the ride till the point of their arrival had been silent. Aside from the occasional cough and look.

Kun parks the car outside a large gated condo of sorts, and Winwin had been the only one to exit the vehicle.

"You coming?" Xiaojun hears Winwin call to him. Xiaojun anxiously sits up in his seat when everyone's eyes turn to him. "Nah... you got this." He mumbled.

Winwin just blankly stares at him from the open door. "Fuck that. You comin' with. Ten said you was gonna show me how to do this."

"Yeah, go ahead, Tectonic." Kun encouraged. "imma show these guys how to keep watch."

There was clearly no room for disagreement, so Xiaojun began unbuckling his seatbelt as he glared at Kun. "....Thank you, Shark Tank."

"You're more than welcome, mothafucka."

Xiaojun exits the car and follows Winwin to the front door. He raises a fist and knocks with a sigh. "Watch and learn, baby."

The door opens, and a short guy over excitedly ushers them inside the house. "Oh my god, hi! Come in!" Jaemin leads them over to the living room where two other guys had been conversing. Jaemin walks over to one of the backturned men and whispers into his ear.

Chenle spins around and throws his arms up, the heavy bags under his eyes concerningly prominent. "You guys are here! Oh, finally!"

Xiaojun attempts to match the man's attitude. "Sup. Somebody order some drugs?"

Chenle begins to cheer on Xiaojun for his intellect. "A-hah! Yes! Oh, my god! I was just telling these guys about this job I did in Paris for a couple of months, and this guy, he let me smoke some of this stuff." Chenle walks around the couch, motioning for the two to follow. "And I swear to God, this drug is insane. And the beauty is, Every. Trip. Is. Different!"

Winwin remained stone face when Chenle began to bounce up and down as he begged to see the drugs. "Let me see it, please!"

Winwin unzipped the bag and hands over a single pound of the crystals to the jittering man.

Chenle runs over to one of the guys and begins to help him set up a pipe. "Guys, come sit, come sit! Have a drink, sit down!" Chenle pressures. Xiaojun lays a hand up in refusal. "Sorry, we just want to see the money."

Chenle's excitement dwindled to a stare. He turns to the guy with the pipe and frowns. "You see, Jeno, some people don't respect the game."

Xiaojun shakes his head.

Great. Another pyhscotic asshole.

"What game?" He groans.

Chenle offers a crazed smile. "LIFE!" He scrunched his fist in the air. "Life is a fucking game! The only real question is, who are the players, and who are the pieces?"

Jeno begins to convulse on the couch from how hard the drugs are. Concerning enough, Jaemin begins to clap excitedly as if the man hadn't looked like he was dying.

Xiaojun and Winwin look at each other for a moment, as they exchange a look that conveys their mutual desire to get the hell out of here.

"We just want the money..." Xiaojun pauses.

Chenle picks up and begins to unveil a sword the two hadn't noticed before from the table with a deadly look.

---

The guys sit in the parked car, the only light coming from the house. They're all quietly minding their own business just staring out the window. The only sound is their soft breathing and the occasional shuffling of clothes as they get comfortable in their seats.

Hendery broke the silence with a low grunt. "Man fuck, let's get some tunes goin' in this bitch."

Lucas agrees. "Yeah, something."

Yang Yang jumped up from his seat and snags Kun's phone from the consol. "Let's see what we got here."

Kun feels his heart sink when his gospel music begins blasting through the speakers.

Hendery side eyes him from his seat. "Yo..."

Yang Yangs mouth opens and closes when no sound comes out. He simply flashes the phone towards Kun and points. "Shark Tank... uhm... dude. What the fuck is this?"

"What is this?" Kun repeats, bashfully looking away. He then adjusted his position to stare straight ahead as he bops his head to the music. "Oh~ shit, mothafucka. This is my shit right here."

"This your shit?" Hendery asks with furrowed brows. "This shit sound kinda white."

"White? Mothafuckas, This is huang Renjun, right here. This one of the greatest recording artists of all time, man." Turning to Yang Yang and Lucas, he adds. "This the real OG up in here."

Hendery licks his lips. "So is he a bad-ass then?" He says, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah, he used to role with this mothafucka, Jisung. And then Renjun was tryna do this solo thing, right? And then, WHAM!" Kun pounds his fist into his open palm. "Then nobody ever sees Jisung ever again."

"He killed the motherfucker?"

Kun stares into Hendery's soul as he repeats. "Nobody. Ever. Seen. Him. Again."

Yang Yang, Hendery, and Lucas begin to laugh.

"Oh shit." Hendery says.

"I fuck with this Renjun bitch!" Yang yang comments.

Kun grabs the phone just as the song is nearing its end. "Wait, just wait until yall hear this next track, yall."

---

Chenle begins to approach them with the sword. "You know, in samurai times. A refusal to sit in a man's court is considered a profound insult to a man's honor." Chenle lifted the sword higher. Xiaojun ends up grabbing Winwins hand out a fear.

Chenle jolts forward with a laugh. "HA! GOT YOU! HAHA YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACES!"

Chenle slumps down onto the couch and begins to sniff a line of the table.

Winwin clears his throat. "The man asked for the money?"

The man let's out an amused fart sound with his mouth. "Jaemin, get the bag."

Jaemin rolls his eyes "I'm not your slave."

"GET THE FUCKING BAG!"

Jaemin gets up to go get it while Chenle goes for a second line.

Xiaojun stares down at the man for a second. "I really loved you in the voice of China, by the way."

Chenle thanks him with a kind smile, and Winwin is confused. "You know this, dude?"

"Yeah, he's zhōng Chenle, the singer?"

"ENOUGH!" Chenle croaks. "Let's stop talking about that... All I care about is truth." He smirked. "...Or dare."

Chenle seemed to be way too excited. "Truth or dare!" He happily repeats.

Jaemin walks back over and begins laying down stacks of cash.

Xiaojun and Winwin have no other choice but to sit down and indulge in this sick mans idea of fun. The dark-haired male was at least happy he had Winwin to experience this with him.

Chenle starts strong when Winwin picks truth. "What's the most dirtiest, fucked up thing you've ever done?"

"This dude cheated on my sister, and I cut his dick off."

Chenle's jaw dropped, clearly enjoying this. "Fuck yeah! That is the type I shit you get paid for!" He grabs a few bills and hands them over to Winwin.

Now it was Xiaojun's turn.

"Most fucked-up?.... I uhhh once cut..... TWO dicks off." Xiaojun lies successfully enticing the man. "Yeah, that's right. They didn't even see it coming. Snuck up on them got real close one of them was long thin pointy like a pencil. The other one was short girthy. Got a little bit of heft to it. Got up in there lickety-split, snip, snip, yeah."

Xiaojun pauses to take a deep breath. "I took them, too. So, yeah, I'm the motherfuckin' dick-taker." He looks down to the floor after replaying what he just said in his head with regret.

Dick-tacker? Get it together, Dejun!... oh how he missed Yuta.

'300 for the dick taker." Chenle says, laying a few bills in front of him.

---

Hendery lands a firm slap on kun's forearm. "So, Smtown."

Kun jolts in his seat, haven been knocked out his dissociating state. "What? Mothafucka, fuck, what? Mothafucka?" He stutters, looking as if he seen a ghost.

"Tell me about it, man. Was it crazy? Surely should have been."

Kun's eyes meet Hendery's wide, expectant ones.

Kun rubs his chin sheepishly. "Was it crazy?" He mocks with a laugh. "hells bells, hold on to your shells, mothafucka. Shit was crazy. We were just dodging bullets on an everyday basis. You know, just for survival." He sneaks a glance over to Yang Yang and Lucas. "But, you know, the thing about me and tectonic is our communication skills."

Yang Yang had felt so inspired by this mini speech that he felt encouraged to show off a scar just above his clavicle. "I never told you guys how I got this." Yang Yang, light heartedly grins when they all look at it. "A kid stabbed me 'Cause I stole his ring pop."

Kun covers his mouth with his hand for a moment. "That's awful, mothafucka. How old were you?"

"Twenty three."

Kun swallowed down a pang of disappointment. "Oh!... okay well. Yeah, thank you for sharing, though."

Yang yang hugs himself and mutters. "Thank you... felt good to let that out."

After a moment, Hendery turns to face them.

"I got one too." Hendery opens up. He pulls up his shirt, revealing three scarred circles on his stomach. "Buckshot. Holding up a liquor store."

Kun exhales quietly. This was so sad. "And then he shot you? That's crazy."

"No."

The oldest kept his eyes fixed on Hendery with acknowledgment. Hendery seems to loosen up a bit now. "It made the news, and when I got back to my grandmama's house, she shot me."

Kun gawks. "Okay, you know, you need to spend a little less time with your family. I'm gonna advise that."

Lucas reaches over and taps him on the shoulder. "So what you got?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

Kun looks up in deep thought. "Uhm...hmmm."

Hendery scoffs. "Come on, man. You got a bunch of shit. You ain't gotta be modest."

Kun pulls up his shirt with a heavy sigh. "Here it is." He shows off his appendectomy scar. "Damn ass street fight. Appendix. Blam!"

Hendery looks concerned by the sight. "Appendix?"

"Yeah, they took it out of my body."

"What?"

"Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. Y'all don't even want to hear about what went down with my wisdom tooth."

"Damn!" Yang Yang sighs.

---

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Why would you choose dare?" Xiaojun groans.

Chenle tilts his head to the side with pouted lips. "I dare you...."

Winwin gulps.

"- To shoot your friend."

Xiaojun glanced over to Winwin, who'd already been staring. Silence lingered over the two.

"He's joking... Winwin...?" Xiaojun's heart skips a beat. "You know he's joking?"

"I'm not joking." Chenle cuts in, placing a fat stack of cash in front of Winwin. "That's 10,000 dollars." Winwin begins to count the cash.

Xiaojun couldn't believe it. The man wasn't actually considering, right? He's gonna go home after this with his dog and sleep and-

"Show us what it looks like to see a man's brains explode."

FUCK! Xiaojun begins to panic, unable to move from his seat. His breath catches when Winwin gets up and swiftly pulls out a gun and points it at him.

"Fuck it. he ain't my friend."

"Winwin, stop! Don't let this rich asshole tear us apart, Winwin. Don't fucking let Zhong Chenle tear us apart!" Xiaojun begs as Chenle creeps over behind Winwin and begins whispering into his ear. "Yes, come on. Show is what death looks like." He begins to moan. "Come on.. Do it. Do it, do it!-"

"YO, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

A sick crack reverberated around the room when Winwin broke Chenles nose with the butt of his gun, causing the man to stumble forward and slam against the glass table, shattering it.

"FUCK IS WRONG WIT YOU? TECTONIC GET IT!"

"Get what!?"

"GET THE CASH, MOTHERFUCKER!"

As Xiaojun reaches for it, Jeno wakes up kicking him square in the face. He lands next to Chenle who's screaming and cradling his broken, bloodied nose.

Xiaojun yells out in warning when Jeno pulls out a revolver. "Look, Loooook!"

Winwin hadn't needed to be told twice and began to light the man's body up with bullets.

"You fucking peasant!" Chenle scream running to attack Winwin. Xiaojun swears his legs move on their own as he tackles the man to the couch.

Xiaojun moves out of the way in time for Winwin to shoot Chenle dead. "Crazy son of a bitch!" Winwin spits.

His next course of action is chasing a screaming Jaemin around the house. "Where the fuck do you think you're going, little bitch!"

Xiaojun laid frozen in shock, staring at the dead body in front of him as the sound of screaming and gunshots ring out from down the hall.

---

"ALL I WANT, ALL I WANT!"

Kun, Hendery and Lucas sing.

"WEE OO WEE OO"

Yang Yang adlibs.

Something slams against the car door with a loud thud, and it is pulled open to reveal Winwin and Xiaojun both completely frantic.

"DRIVE!" Winwin yells out once their settled into the back.

Kun looks back to examining Xiaojun when Winwin repeats himself. "I said drive, motherfucker!"

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" Kun buckled his seatbelt and pulls out the driveway.

Winwin scoffs. "Fucking seatbelts and shit. And what the fuck is y'all listening too!?"

"Kangaroo." They 4 answer in unison

"Ugh!"

_______________________________

I call that a successful delivery 💪