#and at the end of the day I get back in the fuckin rock car and skedaddle my way home. that's my life. that's my reality

[lord-radish]

Whenever I'm upset about something and I have to like rant about it to myself to come to terms with how it makes me feel, I have a go-to sentence I use to really hone in on it. Like if something is so irritating or nonsensical or generally anger-inducing that I just have to get it out.

Like I have a coworker who's always talking about what would make the laundry better, talking about these multi-million dollar renovations and things that are *never going to happen* and entirely fail to fix the immediate surface-level issues we're experiencing right now, in the moment, that I'm usually trying to fix while he's talking to me. It really does come off as him going "oh you know what would be so much better for efficiency? if cars ran on rainbows and grass clippings and the tears of happy kittens :)" - he means well, but it fixes NOTHING, it's wishful thinking at BEST

And I swear to god, at least once a week - at LEAST

I have to conjure up the mental fortitude to bite my tongue and keep it to myself

but mentally? I'm winding it up like a punch, before I let out the loudest, angriest call of:

"Coworker, what in the everLOVING NAME OF FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!??"

[laiiaaa]

Carmen eating you out in the mornings just as a little pick me up before he goes to workkkkk...

He kisses you awake first. Gentle ones: into the crook of your neck, down to your shoulder, the cusp of your jaw once you start to stir. A hand snakes up your shirt, teases by your navel and close to your sternum. You turn to face him, hook a leg over his hip, giggle into his mouth when a hand presses against your back and turns it into a pretty arch. 

Five minutes you’re awake and you’re already reeling for him—and that’s exactly what he wants. Your body soft and pliant beneath his, a hand gripping your thigh, sighs spilling into his mouth, hips rocking along with his before his lips begin trailing down your neck, to your collarbone. Lower they go to your breasts, giving them love and affection where it's more than due, his hands taking purchase of the give at your waist. 

You know what he wants.

“Later,” you tell him, even though you’re throbbing between your thighs and you’d do anything for him to help. “You have work soon.”

He’s still stationed at your belly, crystalline blue peeking up at you with his mouth leaving wet kisses to the skin, a finger or two trailing up your thigh like he wants you begging. “Jus’ lemme kiss it, baby.”

A good idea, maybe even a great one…

“You gonna let me?” Poised above you again, the bridge of his nose slides by yours, breath warm against your lips when you nibble at them. “You want me to taste you?”

You hesitate. Yes. “Just…”

He smiles.

“Just don’t be late for—mmph—” 

He takes you into a kiss again, heated and grateful, already leaking pre and soaking his briefs with it. “Yeah, he nods, “I got you, baby.”

And he makes his way back down your body, tracing your curves with his hands and lips and tongue, giddy like a fuckin’ schoolboy when he gets to the main course. Savoring it, relishing in the sight like he’s got all day to do it, he pulls your panties down, caresses your thighs as he lands between them, offers languid kisses to your cunt as he brings a leg over his shoulder and gets to work.

He teases you how you like, runs his tongue through sticky folds to get the taste he craves, and his cock is so fucking hard he’s nearly shuddering with groans into your core.

“Car—hah, Carmy…” Your back arches off the bed, keening into his mouth as rough hands keep your thighs spread. 

He looks up at you, lust-blown eyes and a half-smirking mouth. “What d’ya want, baby?” He kisses his way through your folds, dripping wet as his nose bumps against your clit. He doesn’t know how long he’s taken so far and he doesn’t find it in him to care, not when he’s got you right where he’d die to have you for days on end.

All you can do is whine, babbling your way through your thoughts. “You’re—mm, fuck—you’re gonna be late for work…”

“ ‘S fine…” He presses a finger inside, teasing, kissing your cunt. “Jus’ focus on me…” And his attention’s brought back to your center again, as it always is when he has you like this, splayed out on the bed all pretty for him. “Don’t worry ‘bout a fuckin’ thing…” He keeps you bucking your hips to meet his tongue, moaning his name and threading your fingers through his hair, gripping a little tighter to make him moan when he—

“Oh, f-ffuckkk—”

When he hits that spot with deft fingers. 

A heavy sigh escapes from deep within your chest, and Carmen has to close his eyes just so he doesn’t come at the sight. He smiles again, high on lust from giving you your pleasure, rolling his hips down into the mattress to get himself off as he coos at you between breaths:

That feel good, baby?

You like that? Yeah? C’mon, talk to me.

Taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that? Mhm?

And you’re stuck just writhing against him, fucked out and incapable of saying more than a few words at a time when he coaxes you into coming on his tongue. He’ll let you cool down, too, with a proud little smirk as his head rests against your inner thigh—he’s not mean, of course, just helplessly in love. Looks up at you, you with your heaving chest and sighing breaths, and is almost ready for another round. 

Slowly he lifts himself from the bed to kiss you, a hand smoothing up your waist. “You okay, baby?”

“Mhmmm…” You smile and nod, still on the come down, hazy as you loop your arms loosely around his neck. “And as good as that was, you need to leave.” Another peck to placate him. “I was serious when I said you’d be late.”

He pouts. “We have time—”

“No, Carmen, we do not. You have deliveries coming today.”

“Y-Yeah, I know, but c’mon—”

You give him the look: a stern, scary thing you shoot at him only when he’s being too stubborn for his own good. Any other day, you’d let him fuck you twice over before heading out the door, his schedule flexible enough for another hour, maybe two, at home. But with deliveries comes more rigidity. He knows this.

“Okay,” he concedes, though not happily, taking one more gentle kiss before he sits upright and rubs his hands along your thighs. “You wanna shower w’me?”

“Not today,” you sigh lightly, “Think I’m gonna sleep another hour or two. You got me all tired.”

He chuckles and shuffles out of bed, grabs you a pair of underwear that he carefully draws up your legs, helping you cozy under the covers again before fetching you a glass of water. Another kiss. And another, and another, littered between praises as he’s perched beside your end of the bed. 

Want me to bring you somethin’ home?

You’re so gorgeous, baby.

Gonna miss you…wanna stop by later? 

You’ve gotta give him a little extra push—a push that sounds an awful lot like ‘Carmen, if you don’t leave right now I’m not letting you eat me out tonight’—before he’s heading to the bathroom and getting ready for work in minutes. You’re half way to dozing off by the time he’s done, a post-orgasm wave of bliss washing over you.

And before he leaves, he’s sure to see you one more time, smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead with a quiet “Bye, baby” so he can catch that sleepy smile of yours. A sweet encoded thank you for being the best part of his mornings.

[bloodibambiidoll]

omg omg i need weird!reader and rafe walking around the woods and reader getting horny so rafe fucks her real good kdjwoqywlsbqks i cant

A million times yes. This is so them I’m obsessed. Thank you for this idea nonnie! Fucking outside, choking, rough unprotected sex, bondage, lil bit of breeding kink, spanking(with a belt), and a lil bit of fluff at the end, as a treat. A lil over 2k words. 18+MDNI!!

It was an average Saturday afternoon for you and Rafe. You drug him out to some random ass spot in the woods for one of your impromptu photo shoots and also “to look for cool rocks” in your own words. Rafe used to act semi annoyed that you turned him into a trained Instagram boyfriend but at this point he’s happy to do it. He loves watching you get dressed in your pretty little outfits and how you always have a vision down to the scenery. He adores your creativity.

After he had snapped probably over a hundred photos of you the two of you slowly made your way back to the car. You weren’t in any hurry. It was a beautiful day as the sun started to set into dusk, the glowing golden light shining through the branches of the trees as a perfect temperature breeze blew through your hair. You look at your boyfriend with heart eyes as he treks through the crunchy foliage with his hand in yours. His white tee is taunt around his shoulders and it’s just short enough that everytime he lifts his arms just right it reveals a sliver of his waist. The dark washed jeans he’s wearing are hugging his ass just right and there was just something about him in a SnapBack that made you feel especially feral. It didn’t hurt that he did all of this just for you, who could blame you if you wanted him to fuck you into the dirty forest floor.

“Heeeeyyy, Raafeee.” You call out to him in a sing song tone that causes him to let out a sigh because you only use that tone when you want something or you’re about to ask him some outlandish shit.

“What is it, princess?” His steps come to a halt and he turns his large frame towards you as he gives you a skeptical look.

“Do you wanna fuck?” You look up at him with a devilish smirk that completely contradicts how much of an angel you look like right now. The sun is shining through the trees down onto you like a spotlight in that pretty little white dress and sometimes he truly can’t believe you’re real.

“Right now?” Rafe chuckles as he returns your smirk with one of his own.

“Yeah, right fuckin’ now, baby. I want you to fuck me into the dirt.” Your voice is saccharine as you close the distance between you and lace your fingers in the soft cotton material of his shirt.

“God, I fuckin’ love you, you know that?” The corner of Rafe’s lips quirk into a smirk and his hands snake around you to grab onto your ass through the thin material of your dress.

“Yeah? You’re pretty alright too, I guess.” You giggle and lean towards him so your bodies are flush against each other as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Good. Because I’m about to fuck you into the ground like a dirty little whore.” Rafe starts to walk you until your back is pressed against a nearby tree before wrapping his hand around your throat and using his grip to connect your lips in a messy, wet kiss. Rafe grabs onto your hips and flips you so you're facing the tree. He grips onto your wrists so he can guide your hands to rest against the rough bark as his knee pushes your legs open at the same time. His palms run down your arms to your lower back where he pushes until you’re arched enough for his liking.

“Oh, look at you. You look so pretty in this dress baby. Like a fuckin’ Angel or some shit.” He runs his hands over your asscheeks before grabbing onto them roughly squeezing and jiggling your plush skin. “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty…”

He roughly pushes your dress up before cracking his hands down on both sides of your ass.

“Oh fuuuck.” You whine and moan as he spanks you again and again.

“Get this shit outta my fuckin’ way.” His fingers loop through the holes in your white fishnets before tearing them at the crotch and not stopping until your entire ass was exposed to him. He groans at the sight before him. The tights are ripped so they’re practically framing your ass like a piece of fucking art. You’re so wet the inside of your thighs are glistening and that tiny white thong was practically being swallowed by your creamy pussy.

“Goddamn, my perfect fuckin’ slut. So wet for me and I haven’t even touched your desperate little cunt yet.” You hear the sound of his belt buckle clanking and your pussy clenches in anticipation at what’s to come.

“You gonna spank me with your belt daddy?” Rafe can hear the smirk in your voice as you wiggle your ass and arch your back further. He swears if he had a ring he might propose to you right now.

“Yeah. You’re getting ten. Count.” You hear the whoos of the expensive leather gliding through the air before it lands a harsh smack on your ass.

“Oh fuck! One.” He glides the smooth leather across your skin before giving you another, harsher smack. “Two!”

“Now, say ‘thank you daddy’.” Two more blows come down on either side of your ass and it has you jolting forward causing the rugged bark of the tree to dig into your soft palms.

“Three. Four! Thank you daddy!” Five, six, and seven are the hardest yet but you count them all, thanking him after each one.

“So good for me, princess. Look so fuckin’ sexy right now. Two more. Count em’.” Rafe slides the belt between your legs, bringing it up to smack against your wet, barely clothed cunt.

“Fuck - oh my god - Nine.” He hits your pussy again and you feel like your legs are going to buckle from the mix of pain and pleasure your boyfriend is dealing you. “Ten!”

“Good fuckin’ girl, think you earned a reward, huh?” Rafe pushes your panties to the side and shoves two fingers knuckle deep inside you all in one motion. You don’t even have time to think before he’s thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Gimme one, cum all over my fingers and then I’ll pound this tight little pussy till you cry.”

Rafe curves his fingers and pushes his thumb against your clit and that’s all it takes to have you gushing around his thick digits. “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, fuckin’ cum for me.”

He doesn’t stop until he feels your walls stop pulsing around him and your knees start to buckle. He pulls your back against his front and shoves his slick covered fingers past your lips. You take them in, greedily sucking your own taste from his skin.

“Please fuck me.” You whine and push your ass back against his clothed cock. He pulls his fingers from your mouth so he can push the straps of your dress down causing it to pool around your feet. You’re bare before him aside from what’s left of your tights and the black platform boots on your feet.

“Get on your knees. Hands behind your back.” You oblige him, lowering yourself down onto the fallen leaves and dirt below you. Rafe kneels down behind you with his belt in hand and wraps it around your wrists so you’re bound before him. “My perfect little toy. My pretty little doll tied up all pretty for me.”

He grabs onto one of your tits roughly pinching your nipple between two of his fingers while the other grips onto your jaw. His hard cock presses against your ass and god you want him so bad. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses on the column of your throat before licking a stripe along it.

“Tell me. Tell me you’re my pretty little toy to use.” The hand not on your jaw starts to make work of his button and zipper, pulling his thick cock from his pants. He thrusts forward so it slides perfectly between your thighs, his hard shaft rubbing perfectly between your pussy lips.

“I’m your toy, daddy. Just a hole for you. Please fuck me.” You whine and wiggle your hips, rubbing your messy cunt on his cock, desperate for any friction.

“I love it when you’re desperate and pathetic.” You can hear the smirk in Rafe’s voice as his large hand splays across your upper back and pushes you down until your cheek is against the ground and your ass is in the air. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you to the hilt. He immediately finds your sweet spot as he plunges his cock deep inside of you at a brutal pace. He grips onto the belt restraining your hands, using it to pull you back harder onto his cock with each thrust.

“Yeah daddy, fucking use me.” Rafe practically growls at your words as his free hand comes down to press your cheek further into the mud. It's so messy and primal. The way he’s fucking you like a bitch in heat while the ground below you dirties your skin and your milk white tights. Your expensive calf high boots are surely covered as well but you can’t bring yourself to care when this just might be the hottest sex you’ve ever had. Rafe uses his grip on the belt to pull you up so your back is flush against him, forcing him even deeper than ever as he continues to impale you with his thick cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, I fuckin’ love you.” Rafe grips onto your throat and it has your pussy pulsing around him as you cum undone on his dick. “Fuck, that’s right, cum on my cock, my perfect little whore.”

“Fuck, I love you daddy, I love you, I love you.” You’re babbling, drunk off his cock as drool starts to drip down your chin and onto Rafe’s digits. “Want your cum. Fuck me full, want it so bad.”

“Oh fuuuuck. Yeah - fuck yeah baby, gonna breed this cunt, don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna give you his cum.” You feel his cock slip from inside you and before you can question what he’s doing he’s unlooping your hands and flipping you onto your back. His dick slides back into you with ease, you lock your legs around his hips, using your boot covered feet to push him even deeper. His hands come down on either side of your head as he resumes fucking you vigorously.

“Takin’ me so well, princess, my dirty fuckin’ girl.” Rafe leans down so he can connect your lips in a filthy kiss as his plush lips practically swallow you whole. “Oh - fuck - I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

His hips slam against yours over and over before he tenses above you as he paints your walls. The feeling sends you over the edge with him as you milk his cock for all it’s worth.

“Goddamn.” Rafe chuckles as he pushes himself up so he can look down at you. Your hair is a disaster of leaves and tangles, there’s dirt smudged on your cheeks and across your chest but god do you still look like an angel. “You’re perfect, ya know that?”

“Mmm, you’re pretty perfect too.” You giggle and pull him down into a much more tender kiss. He obliges you for a few moments before pulling away.

“Aight, let’s get off this dirty ass ground and get you home, yeah? Get you in a bath and shit.” He pushes himself up and tucks his cock back into his pants before leaning down to hook his hands under your arms and man handle you to your feet. He grabs your dress from the ground and pulls it over your head before trying to get a few of the leaves out of your hair.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. I love you, Rafe.” You smile at him like he’s your whole world and he feels his heart warm. He’s been wanting to marry you more and more lately.

“Got me all fuckin’ soft.” Rafe scoffs and rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the car.

All Things Rafe & His Weird!Girl Here

Tagging some moots: @sturnioloshacker @bimbotrashcan @babygorewhore @starkeysprincess

[wtfsteveharrington]

I need a just the tip smut with richie jerimovich

a/n: richie my beloved <3 thank you for requesting!!

contents: richie's a menace and badgering the reader in a playful way, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi public (we all love that damn office), reader referred to as princess once. when i say this is a quickie i mean it!

word count: 1,420 (lol)

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Richie annoyed you - A lot. Constantly annoyed you in fact!

And things haven’t improved since you made out with in the heat of the moment a few months ago. Arguing outside the restaurant after a particularly rough dinner service. He blamed the way you ran front of house, you blamed him for sending table 18’s second course to table 31 (which he promises he didn’t do) and throwing off the flow of the kitchen.

There was a moment when the arguing turned to silence and the two of you staring at each other. Both trying to read the moment. You still don't know who moved first but it was passionate, sloppy, and seared into your memory.

Thus began a mess of touching and kissing when you shouldn't be. It hadn't gone all the way yet, much to Richie's dismay. The closest he got was eating you out in the backseat of his car which you promptly left after you finished and flipped him off as you skipped to your own car. Richie had to drive home hard and annoyed and teasingly gave you a cold shoulder the next day but you'd catch a wicked grin on his face whenever he turned away from you. Both of you loved this game.

You secretly loved the power it gave you when he'd beg and whine and grab any inch of skin you'd let him. Rutting himself against you, shamelessly needy. You made him feel like a teenager again. Stuck with the urge to fold his pillow around his length and fuck into it to get some source of friction besides his hand. It made him feel pathetic and you feel pride.

He loved it too, don't let him lie to you.

That's how you found yourself in the nice office, hips pressed against the edge of the desk while Richie stood behind you. His hands were cupping your breasts over your shirt, savoring the weight of them in his hands while he grinds against your ass. You, on the other hand, try to act unbothered while you look over paperwork even if the both of you know it's getting to you. Thighs turning slick and warm and God he feels good.

“C’mon, Babe. My dick is fuckin’ rock solid. Help me out, yeah? Don’t you want me focused for tonight or are you really gonna let everyone drown because you won’t help take care of ole Richie?” He’s grabbing a hold of the hem of your skirt, pushing it up at your waist and admiring the way your ass looked covered in some white lacey number you totally didn’t buy with the hopes of him seeing it.

You huff and pretend to be inconvenienced but you're reaching the end of your resolve too. Letting go of the papers you were hyper focused on and instead sliding your hands around your body and pulling your underwear to the side so he, finally, has access to you. There's a loud, drawn out groan coming from the man behind you which has you whipping your head around with a sharp, "Shut the fuck up, Richie."

He's looking up at you now and innocently holds his hands up in the air as an apology. There's wicked smirk as one of his hands come down to trace over your core. A rough finger dragging along the folds, bumping your clit before he presses two into you. "Knew you wanted me too, Princess." You can't help but roll your eyes, still adjusting your position on the desk so you're better able to arch your ass back towards him. "Just the tip."

Richie's motions stall, brows knitting together. "You fuckin' serious?" Which makes you laugh while you roll your hips back, chasing your own pleasure by using his hand that's still against your warm core. "Serious. Now - Just the tip and hurry up before we get caught. Think I'd die if anyone knew I was letting you fuck me raw in here."

His hand slides out of you and delivers a sharp smack to your pussy before he's taking your command and making quick work of his pants. Fine, if you wanted to play this game still he'd make sure to drive you just as insane as you were driving him.

You feel the head of his cock tapping against you now, teasing the both of you by rocking himself against your clit. "You're tryna give me shit but you're this fuckin' wet? Bent over the desk and begging. Play tough all you want but you need me."

"Jesus Christ, Richie. Are you gonna keep running your mouth or fin- Oh!" He's cutting you off as you feel him push into you. The head of his cock barely tucked between your folds as you both adjust to the sensation. He's giving you a second before pushing in another in, letting the tip of him rest snug inside of you.

Richie's rubbing his hands over your ass, the texture difference between your smooth skin and the lace of your underwear driving him crazy. Fine, maybe he was clowning you at first but there's something so... Intimate about this. Or maybe you just already had him whipped and he was hopeless.

He's fucking into you just barely, fully content to play along if that’s what it took to finally find himself inside of you.

There’s a pounding on the door snapping you both out of it. Richie’s startled and accidentally sinking a few more inches into you, both of you fighting every urge to moan. “Dinner service starts in twenty! Finish up your paperwork and get out here!”

You're in the clear. No door handle jiggling, no one barging in.

Everyone knew you took some time right before dinner to ensure there were no missed allergies, reservations, and nothing running short. Everyone knew Richie would take off his suit jacket so it didn't smell like smoke before taking a few minutes out back to burn through some cig's. Splashing on cologne from his car before coming back in. They all probably assumed he was somewhere in that circuit out back.

But yet, here you two actually were.

The two of you stand there, still connected, in silence for a moment. Making sure the coast is clear before continuing this already risky game. Once a few seconds have passed, neither of you know quite what to do.

So you take the initiative.

Rolling your hips back and fucking yourself on the few inches Richie has managed to sink into you. His hands are on your ass now, pulling it apart so he can get a better look at the head of his cock slowly pushing in and out of you. Neither of you dare make too loud of a sound.

Your head falls forward, pressing your mouth against your upper arm to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out when Richie pulls all the way back just to resink himself halfway in. It's a quick motion but the sound of him just barely gliding through your wetness was sinful. Richie's torn between throwing his head back and savoring the sensation or focusing on what's happening right in front of him, "Fuck you, gonna make me come like this." He's squeezing at the handfuls of your ass, fighting the urge to bury himself completely but knows that isn't your game for now.

You can feel his resolve breaking so you decide to prolong this game. Giving him a squeeze of your muscles around his cock before leaning all the way forward so Richie has to slide out of you. His jaw goes slack and you hear a breathless whine from behind you as he instantly wraps a fist around himself to keep the feeling going. Your underwear are getting put back in place, skirt being folded down as you grab a towel from the pile of clean laundry in the corner of the office and hand it to him with a smirk. "Use this to finish in, don't make a mess of your suit."

Richie can't decide if he loathes you or wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You lean up, letting your lips work his jaw for a moment as you feel the head of his cock press against your thigh while he continues to jack himself off. "Don't fuck up tonight and I'll let you come home with me."

You pull back, throwing him a wink before sneaking out of the office door to go clean yourself up before dinner service. Leaving Richie standing there fucking himself into a rag and laughing at the mess you've made of him.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Car Sex w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: for the first time in the last six days this day was not prewritten! that kind of worries me because i've been doing so good being on time but never fear, i'll make it work!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

The way you ended up here was a total accident – at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself, that is. 

You weren’t attracted to Dean by any means, no no, don’t get it twisted; yes, you may think he’s handsome. Yes, you sometimes fantasize about what it would be like if you were the one that he was taking home that night, but it was totally normal to think those thoughts about your friends… right?

It was like everything that you had ever known, that you had ever told yourself had melted away into nothing as you found yourself in the backseat of the Impala, nails digging into Dean’s broad, naked shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his thick cock. He buried his face in your neck, heavy pants brushing against the sensitive skin that sent a shiver down your spine, a whimper escaping your throat when his tip brushed your g-spot.

It was kind of hard to remember how you may have ended up in this predicament, especially since Dean was  too busy fucking you into next week. Maybe it was the sexual innuendos that were rather consistent these last couple of weeks, or maybe the quick glances and secret shared moments when you’d knock into each other in the middle of the night, eyes devouring one another from the inside out as you’d bid lustful goodnights – even though you noticed the way Dean’s hands were tensed, flexing as he walked away.

You thought that maybe being away from the bunker would help with the fact that you often found yourself falling asleep after rubbing furiously at your needy clit, Dean’s name always on the tip of your tongue but never daring to slip past your lips. 

It was obvious that being locked up in a stuffy hotel room was going to be the death of you, even after the hunt was over. All it took was suggesting you, Sam, and Dean take a trip to the local dive bar to end up losing a game you hadn’t even had a chance at winning.

The windows were fogged and the car was sweltering, but that didn’t deter either of you. Months upon months of swelling tension had bubbled to the surface which was portrayed in Dean’s hard thrusts and your harsh bouncing.

“‘You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” He grunted, moving his head so that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. His stubble burned at your skin.

There was no gentleness in the way he fucked you, just pure depravity fueling your needy gripping. You took advantage of your position to caress and stroke as you pleased, just in case this was a one time thing.

“Can’t believe I finally get to fuck you,” He grunted, lifting you up to then slam you down on his cock. If the car wasn’t rocking before, it definitely was now. “Shit!” You cried out, throwing your head back.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to feel this sweet pussy? God,” He cursed when you squeezed him. “Fuckin’ years.” He finished with a slap on your ass, sending you jolting in his lap.

‘Years?’ You would have asked, but all of your words died in your throat when you felt his cock jab at your g-spot once again. 

“Me too.” Was all you were able to whimper out. “Yeah?” He questioned through a smirk. “Mhm!” You confirmed through curled lips. “‘Would always wish I was those girls that you took home.” A hand descended from your hip up your chest to cup your breast, his finger pinching a nipple. “Ah! And I- and I would always wonder about what you would do to them, how it would feel.”

“Do you know now, sweetheart? Huh?” He cooed.

“Yeah! Yes, yes I do!” You quickly corrected yourself.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @alixwriter

[mittch22]

I feel the need to draw attention to the plight of this poor bastard at the start of Cars 2.

Crabby is approached by a random-ass Aston Martin at a dock on the west coast of America, given a set of coordinates and is paid what I assume would have been quite a considerable sum of money to take said Aston out there. A strange situation indeed, made even stranger when you realise just how far Finn, or 'Buddy' asks Crabby to take him. When Crabby says "you can't get any further away from land than out here", he really fuckin meant it:

The coordinates put them almost smack bang in the middle of the pacific ocean. (and before you come for me, the bottom set of coordinates are correct, the ones that are displayed in Cars 2 have not had their decimals converted to minutes and seconds) Now, at this point, Crabby isn't asking too many questions. And his confusion must have hit what he thought was an all time high.

Then big chungus rocks up:

Tony Trihull, a heavily armed combat vessel, glides right up along side the tiny little crabbing boat and blocks him off from further venture. And when Crabby shows him his resistance, Tony threatens to sink him with a lazer guided missile launcher. At this point, Crabby relents and begins meandering back in the direction he came from (I do have to hand it to Crabby here, he's one fearless little ocean dweller).

So, Crabby has just been sent out into the centre of the pacific ocean with no logical answer as to why AND been threatened with being blown up AAAAAND, to top it all off with a delectable trauma cherry:

"Sorry, Buddy. Looks like its the end of the line.......... Buddy?"

'Hang on a minute. Where the hell is my four-wheeled, non-floating passenger!?!?!?' Aka, 'Did I just kill someone?'

Fear and panic would have taken over the mega-confusion of Finn's reasoning for his watery trip. 'Where did he go? How did he 'go'? There's nowhere for him TO go. Did he fall over the edge? Was he just a figment of my imagination? Hang on a minute, did I just help someone kick the bucket???'

Can you IMAGINE the horrific thought patterns that would have followed the realisation that 'Buddy' was no longer on board? Crabby is not aware of Finn's gadgets and capacities, and so, in his mind, there is no other possibility other than the death of the Aston Martin. Cue the hefty therapy bill.

I like to think that Finn is a bit of an empath and would have thought about how this situation would have affected Crabby. And I like to think that he would have found a way to let Crabby know that he was still around and kicking. Maybe after the mission had come to its conclusion. It would still leave Crabby with a plethora of questions. However, at least he would have known that he wasn't responsible for the death of a random and rather strange vehicle.

PS - Day jobs being performed in darkness are much easier to explain than evidently idiosyncratic night quests.

[turquoizxe]

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Hobie Brown x Black!Fem!Reader

content ― drabble; sweet, and straight to the point, black hair appreciation with a lot of fuckin’ , pain kink if you squint

wc ― 0.9k (got a little carried away)

There were no words that came close to how enamored your boyfriend was with your hair.

Hobie Brown, Spiderpunk himself ― not a day went by that he would get his hands on you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he fucked you as you wanted, hands tangled into whatever style you had on.There was almost nothing that he wouldn’t do for his girl, and boy, was he down for anything as long as you were involved.

He loved your versatility, the way you could rock any style you wanted so effortlessly, it made his cock hard in ways that even as bold as he is, was too scared to admit.

Hobie always let you mess with his hair, and that’s because it always remained the same, often letting you wash it, and sometimes you’d place hair accessories whenever he wasn’t paying too much attention. Your hands on him put him at ease.  

No, no wigs, absolutely not. He loves the wigs ― a little too much. One night on the couch, he tugged your hair too hard, that shit went flying and you found it behind your television after you pushed him off you. Ya’ll didn’t fuck for at least 2 weeks after that.

When you did the big chop, and went bald, you’ve never seen a nigga so feral over you, and not just sexually. Oiling your scalp, his fingers running over your soft coils. And when you dyed your hair, you just had to pray for your cervix.

You weren’t on board with him touching your hair at first, especially when it took hours for it to look the way it does. However, he was willing to start off slow and sweet. Whenever you got a style done, you always told him to wait at least a week before he touched your hair. He would always ask beforehand.

The first time he touched your hair, you had in knotless braids, nearly down to your supple ass that Hobie also loved very much. You were giving him head, the braids were on the floor, refusing to put them in a ponytail due to being tender headed, despite how heavy they were. The braids were getting in the way of your beautiful face, and Hobie wasn’t having it.

“You too pretty to be hidin’ from me, baby.”

Slowly, his hand moved your braids, one by one, out of your face so the pain wouldn’t be overbearing. He would still sneak in his fingers into your scalp, softly massaging it with the oil that was present, and keeping your braids out with way so they wouldn’t be stained along with your face when he came. He lifted them up, and he saw your eyes roll back from the sudden relief. You loved when he touched your hair, you just never cared to admit that. But he knew.

The second instance, it was soft locs, and as much as they cost in your area, not even your boyfriend would find a way to play in your hair. You wore your bonnet around him. While he couldn’t see your hair unless you were out together, he loved tugging on your slipless bonnet when he fucked you from behind. You moaned for him to stop, but he felt your walls clench everytime he pulled at your locs. You loved that shit, and he knew it. Or, when you ended up fucking in your car, pushing them out of the way so he could tell you how pretty you looked for him. His hand, wrapped around your neck, pulling you back to kiss your neck, making your body feel even hotter.

“Your cunt was made f’me, yeah? I know you like that shit.”

That was the first time he was actually able to see them, and you could tell he loved it, still fucking into you after he spilled his seed, his fingers toying with your clit, etching another orgasm from you.

The third interaction, your hair was in its natural state, because it was wash day, and you were sure that Hobie would have to wait a while until the water was hot again with how long you took. He would start taking it upon himself to join you, washing each others hair, him eating you out, and fucking you against the bathroom counter while your hair was conditioning in a hair mask. You often liked having your hair done for your boyfriend, but mostly for you. You didn’t wear your hair like this often, so you would wear a bonnet around him whenever your hair isn’t done, which is a rare occasion. For him, it’s a shame, he loves playing with your hair in its natural state, his loving hands offering to massage and oil your scalp, as your hands were also occupied, playing with his guitar. Because of him, wash days slowly became your favorite thing to do together.  

He had grown to be more affectionate with your hair, he loved it so much because it was apart of you, not physically, but spiritually. The way your hair accentuated your beauty, no matter what style it was in.

And no matter how expensive it was, he started paying for your hair, so he could play in it as much as he wanted. He paid for it anyway.

He still made sure to wait a week before rocking your shit tho.

Just a small break before I continue my series lmao, back to scheduled programming! If you haven’t checked out my series, it’s in the link below. Enjoy :)

-turquoizxe.

‘Just For You’ (Hobie x Spider!Fem!Reader) Masterlist

[sentientcave]

WIP Wednesday - Impound

A little peek at that tow truck driver idea I was tossing around last week, for any interested parties

He shuffled through the papers deliberately. The sound of the cop’s rubber-soled boots squeaking impatiently on the dated linoleum floor was music to Simon’s ears. “Oh, of course. The squad car. Parked in a fire lane.” He tutted, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I got there before bylaw did. ‘S a big fine if they ticket you.”

They both knew that bylaw didn’t have the stones to ticket a cruiser. The fire department might, but they didn’t go around looking for trouble either. That was really more Simon’s area of expertise.

“You could have been impeding an investigation,” Price said, steely eyes narrowing.

Simon snorted. “At Ronnie’s? I fockin’ doubt it, unless you were investigatin’ how fresh the pastries were. Everyone knows that’s Laswell’s girl. Nobody’s stupid enough to cause trouble for ‘er.”

Price’s jaw was so tight that Simon was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking under the pressure. He could almost hear the grind of enamel. “Fine. Just get the bloody gate open so I can leave.”

“Sure, no problem officer. Just a matter of the impound fees— Y’want me to bill the precinct directly, or are you gonna pay ‘em yourself?” He set the paperwork down on the desk top and fished the debit machine out of the top drawer suggestively. “Just need some I.D., if you don’t mind. Gotta keep things tidy on my end.”

Price snatched up the invoice. “One hundred and fifty dollars? Are you mad?”

“That’s the rate. Take it up with council if you’ve got a problem with it. You still gotta pay.”

Price was pretty near growling as he yanked out his wallet. Simon made a bit of a performance out of logging in the information on his I.D. on the slow computer, of punching in the total on the debit machine, and of checking everything to make sure it was in order. Price initialled the invoice where he was directed, pressing so hard it left a permanent indentation in the cheap veneer of the desk.

“Olright. You’re all set then,” Simon said at last, when he could drag his feet on the matter no more. He got out of his chair with a sigh, pleased to find that he stood a good three or four inches taller than Price, and walked out the side door without any further ceremony. Price was still standing in front of the desk, red-faced and angry. “Come on then.” Simon stopped just past the doorway, looking over his shoulder impatiently. “Haven’t got all day you know. Some of us have important work to do.”

He half expected Price’s head to explode.

Price stalked across the lot to his cruiser and threw himself into the driver’s seat while Simon went to open up the gate. The rev of the engine was the only warning Simon had to get out of the way before Price drove through it, cutting it a little too close for comfort. Simon raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in farewell, enjoying the glimpse of that furious blue glare in the mirrors before Price turned onto the road and sped off.

“Wha’ the hell was all that about?” Johnny asked, leaning out of the building, braced on the door handle, Roach a step behind him. “Ye pissin’ off the new police chief?”

“Yep.” Simon corralled the boys back into the office. “Fuckin’ hate cops.”

“Sure, but aren’t ye worried—”

“Not really. ‘F ‘e gets to be a problem I’ll talk to Laswell, get ‘er to put ‘er fuckin’ dog back on ‘is leash. Owes me a favour.” He snagged the singular tea out of the tray of paper cups and lifted it in thanks. “See you lads later. Goin’ home. When Kristen comes in to pick up ‘er shitbox waive the fees an’ tell ‘er not to park there again. Pretend you’re riskin’ your ass doin’ it, she’ll prob’ly give one of you muppets ‘er your number.”

Johnny and Roach looked at each other, and immediately launched into a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get to be the knight in dirty blue coveralls. Simon let the garage door bang shut behind him, and trudged across the dimly lit space to the back door. The acrid smell of weed smoke hung in the air, thin tendrils of it still drifting across the bars of sun coming through the back windows. Fucking muppets, smoking up while chief of police was steaming mad on the other side of the door. And they thought that Simon was the one who needed to be careful.

[thecookiebratz]

*Giggles*

So...first story...yeah..I'm kinda nervous about it but I'm kinda fuckin with it.

Inspired by: @backwzzds , @strawberry--brat (They were my beta reader, so much help), @privateparty3, @kazushawt. , @sluut4toji(Imma always give credit where its due)

Dividers by: @benkeibear

Made for black female reader, body type isnt specifed but a "chunky-ish" body was in mind. readers about 22 while toji is late 30's, praise kink, plot and smut, links, face riding, alcoholic drinks (Doesn't effect anything)

1,115 words (Yeah we specific wit it)

Song- Play with me by Rendezvou at Two ( I love this song)

You walk out of your school and take in a deep breath of air. That last day of school. Finally, college was over, you could do whatever you wanted to now. No more 6 am lectures, no more walking from one side of the campus to the other. You were done. You couldn’t wait to get home to see Toji.

Little did you know that he was right outside the school gates, next to his car (whatever car you think he drives) with flowers. You ran to him with open arms, right into a tight hug. “Hi Bubba!” you said with a huge smile on your face. “Hi, angel. How was your last day of school?” You released the hug and looked into his eyes. “Lame as fuck. 2 finals and a speaking thing,” you gruffed out as he walked you to your side of the car. He opened the door and handed you the flowers. They were your favorites. He always remembered the small things. Your favorite flowers, that fact that you liked gold better than silver, or even that shape you get your nails. As he got in the driver's seat and closed the door, you looked at him with loving eyes. “Thank you for picking me up. Thank you for the flowers too, they are beautiful.”. He looked back at you and said, “Anything for you, baby”.

The car ride was fun, gossiping about school and work, listening to your favorite songs, and the best part of all, Toji’s hand kept going higher and higher on your thigh.

Once you got to his house, you put your bag down and went to go take a shower. Toji joined you, helping you reach your back, even though it was just an excuse for him to touch your body. You helped him wash his hair and shared kisses. You wanted more, so you started sliding your hand down his chiseled chest. Before you got to his dick, he grabbed your wrist. “No baby, we’re going somewhere. You can have that later” A smirk grew on his face as he got out of the shower. As you stepped out of the shower with a whine, your boyfriend handed you a towel. “There’s an outfit on the bed for you baby, take the tags off and get dressed. I’ll be done by the time you get done”

You saw Toji walk into his closet and you looked at the bed where there was a cute new outfit. You dried off, moisturized, then put the outfit on, you then did your makeup and hair (yeah, we’re going emo). Toji walked out in a black shirt and tie. “Damn Bubba. You look good”. Toji did a spin for you and chuckled, “I can say the same for you, I knew you’d look wonderful in that”. You giggle and grab your black bag and walk to the car.

You don’t ask where you’re going because you know Toji will take care of you, but you end up at your favorite club, “The Taurean”. You let a wide smile come across your face and once Toji gives the valet the keys, you pull his hand to rush inside.

Once you get in there, you go straight to the dance floor while Toji gets you a blueberry gin and tonic and him a whiskey on the rocks. He brings it back to you and as you take your first drink, Win Pon You by Doja Cat comes on and you started grinding your hips and ass on Toji as you sing. He grabs your hips and talks in your ear “Be careful what you do pretty girl”. You don’t respond to him, you just keep dancing, being the sexy motherfucker you are. Toji just stood there, with his sharp green eyes on you, and you felt them. You felt the lust and want in his gaze even as he pulled you out of the door.

As you stood there waiting for the car to come back you pouted at Toji, “Why are we leaving so early?” he looked down at you with an emotionless face. “So I can fuck you.”

Next thing you know, you're on Toji’s bed, pulling his hair as he’s tongue deep inside of you. “Come on princess, ride my face like the good girl you are”, that was all the motivation you needed as your hips started moving back and forth as if they were stuttering. You could barely hear to groan into you over the sound of your arousal mixing with his spit. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as he gripped your hips and pulled you down on his face. Your thighs started to engulf Toji as you tried to squeeze them close. This was the 3rd orgasm he’s gotten out of you and he doesn’t plan on stopping. He pushed you on your back and stood over you. “My good girl is gonna take this dick, isn’t she?”.

You could do nothing but nod. He slowly started sinking into you. He couldn’t help but slump, but that meant his mouth was right by your ear and he could give you want he knew would send you over the edge. So as he slowly moved his hips closer to yours he whispers “That’s my good girl. She’s so fucking smart and pretty. And she knows how to take this dick so well”. You let out a loud moan as he got to the base of his dick. “ That’s it mama’s be loud for me”. Toji knows who he’s fucking, and he knows how she likes it, so he starts fast. Going in and out of your hole with rapid motions.

You were so loud, just for him. Your mind was already going fuzzy. You couldn’t do anything but hold on to him. “Your my pretty girl. Should I give my pretty girl a baby? Make you my baby mama”. You said "Yes please," wanting his babies badly. Toji quickened his pace as you both neared release and nothing came out of your mouth except his name and pleases.. He gave you a sloppy kiss as your legs shook as your 4th climax hit you. You looked Toji in the eyes and begged, “Please, I want your babies. I wanna be a momma” and Toji couldn’t do anything but groan as he took his member out of you and gave it a few pumps.

With one final “Fuck” coming from his lips, he came on your stomach. He looked down at you and chuckled, “You don’t want my babies. I’m old. I’m so proud of you for finishing school, baby. You're such a good girl”

All done!

-🍪

[insomniamamma]

We Came Along This Road: Frankie Morales x f!reader

A/N: This one got angsty and a bit personal. My little boy had colic and my milk mostly dried up at around 6 months, but I had to start supplementing with formula long before that. Colic's a funny thing. It really does sort itself out at around 3 months, but those three months are a fucking eternity. Silver Airways is a real regional airline serving the south eastern United States, the Bahamas and Caribbean. Since Triple Frontier was set in Florida, I figured this in an airline Frankie could fly for. His job would probably involve multiple short-hop flights a day. Written for my year of kisses, as part of @yearofcreation2023, the prompt being a kiss goodbye.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use, hospitals, pediatrician mention, colicky baby, reader has a new baby. Fuck-ton of angst related to raising a child. Emotions that are all over the fucking place. Jumps around in time. Frankie's a fuck up. Broken relationship. No happy ending.

"Can I?" "No. Don't you dare wake him." Frankie bites at his lower lip, that same bit of flesh you used to suck between your teeth when you kissed him. His entire back would lock up when he felt the graze of your teeth, his breath would draw in sharp.

Gabe is colicky. The pediatrician assured you that he would sort himself out at about three months, but that seems like an eternity from now. Doesn't matter if you nurse him or bottle feed him, the bloating and crying happen anyway. Your milk supply is not what it should be. One more thing to worry over, and you've switched formulas but nothing seems to work. You hate yourself for it. This should be easy. When he nurses those big dark eyes are locked on yours clumsy baby fingers patting at your side, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars, but then he's screaming twenty minutes later, face crumpled up, mouth an endless zero, a black hole and you run through the steps in your head, rock him against your shoulder and pound his back to get him to burp and if that doesn't work, there's the simethicone drops and belly rubs and most times he'll fart and his huge eyes will goggle even wider and you laugh, how can you not? Better out than in, huh, buddy? And most times he'll calm after that, but sometimes he won't. Sometimes the moby wrap is the only thing that works, him tied against your chest in a fabric cocoon while you try to keep up with the dishes and washing out the bottles and trying to keep everything in some sort of order so you don't go insane.

Push everything out of your mind except the here and now. Try not to think about how Gabe's dark puzzled eyes had locked on to Frankie's and how Frankie had smiled so broad and wide, tears running unbidden and ignored down his scruffy cheeks, when he'd cut the cord and they'd tucked Gabe against your chest, the fever heat of him, so small and soft and warm. He felt impossible. The lactation consultant had showed you how to get him to latch, you're a natural she said. And the two of you discharged into the care of a flustered Frankie, I can fly a fuckin Blackhawk but this car seat almost got the best of me. Hey language. He doesn't understand yet. No, but he will. I would very much like his first word to not be fuck. Fair enough babe. Fair enough. Frankie looked at you and you both turned to look at Gabe dressed in a onesie with little foxes on it, already sound asleep. Holy shit. We're parents, he said, and those lovely dark eyes shone with tears that strained not to fall. Take us home, Frank.

You try to hang on to that feeling, now that it's just you. Just you and Gabe. Frankie's staying with the Millers for now. You found out he'd been using again late into your third trimester and he'd dropped down on his knees and swore to you that it was a one time thing. You know how they over-schedule us, Babe, his big warm hands folded around yours, eyes locked on your steady and sure and not sliding to the side when he promises you that he's done. I fucked up, squeezes your hands in his and looks up at you from on the floor, around the ripe curve of your belly, but I'm done. I swear to you.

And you wanted to believe him, feeling your son kick inside of you, press against the prison of your body and what choice do you have in that moment but to trust that he means it? The alternative is too bleak to think about. You can't do this alone. You realized that the second you peed on the stick and cried over the results until you couldn't breathe, he said he'd do right by you and, God, you wanted to believe. This shit? You can't get caught, okay? You can't. You think I don't mean it. I don't care what you mean! It's too fuckin late for that, cradling your distended belly in your hands, the baby's kicking, he never stops kicking, you get caught and you lose your job. You lose your job you lose our insurance. You got an extra 15k laying around? You get caught and we're fucked. I won't get caught. I told you, I'm done. And I'm telling you that you cannot get caught with this shit.

Gabe's finally down after what feels like hours so shushing and rocking and simethicone drops and tummy rubs, held him tucked against your shoulder listening to old country songs, Johnny Cash and Pasty Cline and Loretta Lynn, held him and rocked with him until he went slack against you, fever-warm and drooling into the crook of your neck. Prickling cramp in your tits and you carry him up the stairs, dribbles of milk let down warming and then cooling through your shirt. You'll pump, or try to, once you get Gabe settled, not that you expect much. You know that having to give Gabe formula doesn't make you a bad mom, you know that in your mind, but it's hard to hang on to that when the internet is full of contentedly nursing mothers with babies who sleep through the night and don't scream like the world is ending after every feeding. Settle him in his crib and hover. He stirs, stretches his arms on either side of his head like a cartoon cactus but doesn't wake. His mouth moves like it does when he nurses, tiny Cupid's bow of his lips pursed around nothing, but at least he's asleep.

I know it's hard now, but around three months he'll sort himself out, or so the pediatrician said, but that seems like an eternity from now, a whole different age. And for now Gabe sleeps, cactus arms stretched on either side of his head, but you know he won't stay down for long. You debate the merits of trying to sleep versus trying to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink, trying to pump even though it's an increasingly fruitless venture, and then the door bell rings. It's not loud, about the volume of a stifled cough but your first reaction is rage.

You are so angry you can't even make words. The form letter from Silver Airways trembles in your hands as you shove it into Frankie's face when he comes in the door, his hands raised, as if that will make things better somehow. Suspension pending review, that phrase stood out when you opened the letter and the rest dissolved into tear-blurred hash, You fuckin told me you were done with this shit!-- Whoa hey Babe-- You got down on your knees and promised me you were done and now you go and get yourself shit-canned? What the fuck were you thinking? I know it sounds bad, Frankie takes a step back from you, hulking large in the door frame, But they've got a program, ok? For first time violations. Other than this my record is spotless. I'll make this right-- You won't, you say and his eyes go dark and hard, Gabe's high, reedy cries rising in the background, You couldn't stay clean for him. You won't stay clean because of what some councilor tells you. What are you trying to say? Tears run hot down your face but inside you are cold as the space between stars, a future stretched before you dark and wide, one that for the first time since you fell pregnant does not involve Francisco Morales. I think you should leave. He reaches to rest a hand on your upper arm, a gesture of comfort, of grounding, a gentle touch you've felt so many times before, but you bristle back as if burned. Are we-- Just go. I'll call, he says, retreating into the dark, M'not gonna ditch you. You don't say anything, just watch his headlights turn on, the rumble of his battered truck backing out of the driveway, crunch of tires on gravel and then the endless bug music and humid night.

I just got him down, you think, pulse hammering in your ears as you descend the narrow stairs, rushing to get there before the bell can ring again, not much louder than a stifled cough but with the struggles you've had getting Gabe to sleep it might as well be a sonic boom. "I'm coming," you call as soon as you think it's safe, something like a stage-whisper, open the door and there's Frankie, filtered through the window screen, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes shining in the ugly yellow porch-light, little glittering arcs beneath the bill of his hat. "Hey," says Frankie. And that knot clenches in your chest. Anger and grief and want all smeared together. You miss him, looking right at him in the bug-humming glow, soft pink!pink!pink! of moths and junebugs and christ knows what else suiciding into that sizzling orb, nothing you're feeling makes itself into words, you're so tired, so fucking tired, eyes filling up with tears, you cry so fucking easily these days and Frankie's through the door and folding you up in his arms before you can tell him to go to hell, that you don't want to see his face, sink into his familiar warmth, his palm cradling the back of your head, tucking you into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he smells like laundry soap and beer, faint tang of sweat, warm and solid and despite everything you want to stay there forever, you want to be soothed, to be rocked and held and you are just so goddamn tired, but you extricate yourself and step back from him, scrubbing your wrist across your eyes. "Why are you here?" "I wanted to see Gabe." "He's sleeping. I just got him down." "Something's come up," says Frankie, "I've got a job, and I'm gonna be out of town for a bit." He's smiling, but it doesn't quite hit his eyes. "A bit? How long's a bit?" "Ten days at most. I won't be able to contact you though." "Christ. I thought you were done with this kind of shit." "The money's good," says Frankie, "It's just a quick recce. One and done. Redfly's with us this time." His hands find yours, fiddles absently with the ring you can't quite bear to take off just yet, squeezes your fingers. "It'll be enough to see us through til I complete the program and get my wings back."

You wouldn't let the nurses take him out of the room for tests. And when they tried to appeal to Frankie, all they got back was, you heard the lady. Gabe stays right here unless she decides different. You can do the tests in here. He can sleep right here. So they let him stay, swaddled and tiny, soft, snuffling breaths and you slept with your hand reaching into his crib, plastic box on a cart on wheels, your hand on his tummy, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, Frankie passed out on the narrow couch, hat pulled over his eyes. Gabe's here and he's perfect and he's yours, and you drift off to the rhythmic breathing of the two people you love most in the whole world.

"When do you leave?" "Tomorrow morning," says Frankie, takes his hat off and rubs his hand through his curls before putting it back on, a nervous gesture you've seen many times before. "Can I see Gabe? I've missed you guys so much." "It took me forever to get him down." "I just need to see him, okay?" "This job. This recce. How dangerous is it?" "It'll be fine," says Frankie, "Pope's gathering intel and we're backing him up. Low contact. Everything goes right the mark won't even know we've been there." "Where?" "Better you don't know, babe." "Jesus." "Hey," he curls his hands around your upper arms and gives you a little shake, "I'm not gonna ditch you okay? I'm not ditching him. I'm going to make this right, okay?" The breath that comes out of you is wet, wavering, and you nod, not sure if you believe him or if you just desperately want to, and those big brown eyes meet yours, his gaze sure and steady. You nod. "Yeah. Okay."

You and him stand side by side, peering down at Gabe in the soft greenish light from the swirling stars projected on the ceiling, soft hiss of white noise that he seems to prefer, his tiny hands balled up on either side of his head. Cactus arms. "He's filling out some," says Frankie, voice pitched low. "He is." Gabe's face has lost the newborn scrunch, "He's a little behind growth wise. The colic--" "He's perfect," says Frankie. Fake stars pass over his face, shifting light shining in his eyes. And you feel yourself smile, as tired as you are. "He's gonna be just fine." Frankie reaches into the crib and strokes the pad of his thumb between Gabe's eyes, and you draw a hard inward breath. Gabe's faces screws up and then smooths out, lips purse and suck at nothing. Frankie leans over the crib. "Hey little man, Se bueno con tu mamá, ¿vale? I'll be home soon." Frankie presses two fingers to his lips and kisses them, presses them to your sleeping son's forehead. Gabe stirs but does not wake.

You stand in the ugly light with Frankie, bugs doing their endless, mindless dance in the yellow glow and his hands find yours again, warm and calloused and familiar and gentle, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. "I'll call. Soon as we're back state-side. We'll figure things out from there." You pull your hands away. "Sure." "Take care of yourself. You won't do Gabe any good if you run yourself into the ground." Turns and walks down the path to the driveway, turns back to you and smiles. "Stay off of those fuckin mommy blogs, okay? Those people are crazy." And you laugh. Frankie fuckin Morales. He can always surprise a laugh out of you. And for a moment it feels like before, before he started using again, before he got busted, before Gabe, just you and Frankie sharing a laugh, his eyes crinkled and warm, that sweet dimple sinking itself into his scruffy cheek, curve of his cheek as he turns from you, boots crunching over the pea-gravel driveway as he retreats into the dark. Dark that swallows him whole beyond the weak circle of porch-light, you can still hear his footsteps, fading into the endless, mindless song of crickets and rising scream of cicadas. You know in a moment you will hear his truck start up, rumble of a muffler that badly needs replacing. You almost call out to him, but you do not.

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Happy Days — Episode 1

William sifted through the mail, groaning tiredly. He hated relying on Carmen’s income, but his hospital bills from the spring-lock incident used up nearly all of the money he had inherited from his parents three years before and if it wasn’t for her, they wouldn’t be able to meet rent this month.

“I’m leaving!” Carmen announced, coming from the bedroom with a suitcase in hand. “Do not try to stop me, Afton!”

Will blinked in shock, standing. “Leaving? What on earth do you mean, leaving?!”

“What do you think I fuckin’ mean, Bill?!” Carmen spun to face him, free hand coming up to poke him in the chest. “I am leaving! Do you want me to say it en Español?! Me voy! I did not sign up for this. You’re a mess Bill, and I am not sticking around to get dragged down with you.”

“What about Michael?” William tried, casting about for anything that would make her stay. “He needs his mother!”

Carmen shot a glare at him before turning to continue out the door. “I never wanted a baby, and you knew that from the start! I am not sticking around to get bogged down by children and become your perfect little housewife. Forget it! I have a career ahead of me and neither you nor Miguel will be holding me back.” She turned back to look at him from the door, snatching the car keys from the hook. “Do not look for me, I will be sending you the divorce paperwork before the rent is up.”

William winced as Carmen slammed the door, leaving him standing in the fairly empty living space. Michael started crying from the bedroom.

William sighed wearily, crossing to the bedroom and his one year old son. “Oh little one,” he whispered, peering into the crib at the crying baby, “what are we going to do now?”

Michael didn’t answer, but Will hadn’t expected one. He slowly but surely maneuvered the boy from the crib to his one good arm, rocking side to side in hopes of calming him down. It didn’t take long before Michael was fast asleep again.

William stared down at his sleeping child’s tear stained face. He was barely a year old and already motherless.

Moving back to the living room, Will sat down on the couch, and lay Michael down on his legs before burying his face in his hand. “I am sorry, Michael. This… is not what I planned for you, for us.”

Carmen hadn’t paid the rent before she left. They were going to lose the apartment, Will realized, sneering in disgust at the thought of the woman just leaving like that. He leaned against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

They would have to leave, him and Michael. Where would they go? An idea took root and Will sat back up straight, leaning over to the end table next to the couch to grab the phone. Slowly but surely, he typed in Henry’s number, almost smiling when his friend picked it up on the second ring.

“Hello? This is the Emily residence, how-“

William cut him off with a tired snort, looking down to the sleeping baby on his lap. “Hello Henry.”

“Oh! Hey Will, what’s going on?”

William debated hanging up right then and there. He was a bloody Afton, he didn’t need help from anyone. Michael snuffled in his sleep, drawing his attention down to him. He couldn’t take care of Michael by himself. He could barely take care of himself as it was. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the voice of his friend. “…We— Henry, could I ask a favor of you? A large one.”

Henry sounded worried now. “Will? Are you alright?”

“I am… fine. It’s— Henry, Carmen’s left.”

“What?!” Henry sounded angry now and Will smiled tiredly at that, wanting to rub at his bloodshot eyes.

“She’s left, Henry. She said she would mail the divorce papers to me before the rent is up. Her cousin is a lawyer, I don’t doubt she will have it done by then. She took the bloody car, Hen!” He winced and took a deep breath as Michael shifted in his sleep, a frown marring his little face.

“Right… right, okay. I’ll— you can’t stay there without— do you have Michael?” Henry’s sentences were jumbled together and William could picture his friend’s frazzled face, hair standing up from fingers being repeatedly drawn through it.

“Yes, Michael is with me. He’s sleeping right now, thankfully.”

“Okay, alright.” Henry’s next words were muffled but still entirely understandable. “Ada, I’m going to pick up Will and Michael… yeah, finally up and left… should be back in time for dinner…”

Will could imagine Ada’s commentary, cussing out her once friend and demanding Henry be back in time to eat dinner, which was a good seven hours away if anyone cared to take note of the time. “Tell Ada I say hello.” He could practically hear Henry’s eye roll at that.

“Tell her yourself when you get here.” Henry grumbled. “I’ll be there in ten Will.”

“See you then.” William agreed, suddenly exhausted. He hung up and leaned his head against the back of the couch again, closing his eyes while he waited.

-^_^-

This was supposed to be the start of a happy family au where Will ends up meeting Clara later on and no one dies blah blah. I doubt I’ll be continuing this but I wanted to post it so y’all could see. If you want to continue it, go ahead :)

[eddies-munsonmoved]

dealer’s choice pt. 2 /no! i just think i’m two steps nearer to my grave

pairing: eddie munson/oc (cynthia moose) fandom: stranger things wc: 3.3k note: this took for-fuckin-ever, im so sorry. here they are! warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of drugs and alcohol,

Hopper leaned down, taking his sunglasses off and asked, “where are you two coming from?"

Eddie got nervous, he wanted to say something but this wasn’t his situation and he didn’t want to get Moose in trouble for his weed run. But he was stunned even more by how she replied to the cop.

“Skull Rock.”

PREV: here

READ ON: ao3 ✰   wattpad  ✰   ff.net ✰   quotev

February 1985, Cherry Lane

3:17 pm. The dungeons and dragons curse, she liked to call it. Whenever someone brought D&D up to her in any capacity, no matter if her sister was around or not, she would be roped into babysitting a bunch of smelly pre-teens. (This time it was an offhand comment made by Jeff in her sixth period science class)

“Cyn, please?” Bethany pleaded for the third time this hour. “Mike’s dad doesn’t want us over there for another session, and we have the only area big enough.”

“You mean we have less supervision here. Since mom went back to work.”

Bethany shrugged as her sister sighed and turned the tv off, “please?”

“It’s my only day off this week.” Cynthia muttered to herself. “Fine. But you have to clean whatever mess you guys make down there.”

Not even thirty minutes later, Cynthia’s car was filled by three boys, two girls and they had just finished descending their madness upon Bradley’s Big Buy to get snacks and pizza for the weekend. They were loud and caused a ruckus in the store and she was just glad to get out of there with her dignity.

After piling the kids into the car, she almost turned the wrong way and they all let her know about it, “We gotta get Will!”

As they pulled up to the Byers’ place, she put the car in park and looked at the kids in silence, no one was getting out. “Are you guys serious? Go get him.”

“You have to talk to Joyce.” Mike informed the older teen.

She grumbled as she got out of the car, and walked up to the front door. She put on a small smile as she knocked twice.

“Cynthia, hi.” Joyce greeted, opening the door.

“Hey, I came to get Will, if that’s alright.” She gestured to the car where the five kids could be seen arguing animatedly, “Beth is hosting for their session this weekend, something about Mr. Wheeler wanting them to get out of the house?”

Before Joyce could even respond, Will went zipping between them and jumped into the car, clearly an overfilled backpack swinging onto his back.

“That’s fine, is your mom home?”

“No,” Cynthia drew out. “But I don’t have to work until four tomorrow and if they run extra long, I’m sure Tim could watch them.”

“Okay, I’ll have Jonathan drop by after he gets off work to see if Will needs anything, is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s cool. They probably wanna get outta here, I’ll see you around.”

Five hours later and they were starting to drive her crazy, they’ve gone through half their snacks and had three pizzas already. She heard another set of screams from the basement and she got up and padded to the kitchen landline and flipped open the phonebook.

Finding the number, she typed it in and held the phone to her ear, listening to the ring for a minute before a man’s voice came over the speaker, “Hello?”

“Hey, is this Eddie?”

“Yeah?” The other line sounded skeptical, “who’s this?”

“Cynthia.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Oh, Moose. What’s going on?”

“Okay,” she chuckled, “not to be a sob story but I’m fuckin stranded at my house with a gaggle of middle schoolers and I really need a smoke. If it’s not too inconvenient, could you run me a bag?”

“Sure, what did you want?”

“I got… ten bucks. So, what? A quarter?” She answered.

“Alright,” He answered, she heard keys shuffling on his end, “Cherry Lane, right?”

“Yeah, thanks, dude.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Cynthia replied, hanging up the phone before going back to her bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Cynthia was in the middle of her Blondie cassette when she saw a pair of headlights flash through her window, signaling that someone just pulled into the driveway. She rolled out of bed and grabbed one of her dad’s sweaters and went out to the living room.

Expecting Eddie to be outside, she was surprised when she opened the door to see Jonathan Byers. “Hey, I forgot you were dropping by.”

“I was late.” He muttered.

She widened the door for him to come in and she spotted Nancy coming up the walkway with a smile.

“Hi, Cynthia.”

“Hey, Nance,” Shutting the door behind the couple, she continued, “the kids are in the basement. The last door on the right in the hall will have the stairs.”

✰✰✰

Eddie pulled up to the Moose’s house, Jeff in his passenger seat. They both spotted an extra car parked in front of the house. “Weird,” he shrugged to his friend and bandmate before trying to get out of the van.

Jeff laughed in response before stopping and grabbing the older boy’s arm, “I think she’s coming out.”

Settling back down, he watched Cynthia walk between the parked cars and approach the window he just rolled down.

Leaning against the van, she laid her forearms over the opening, “hey guys, thanks for comin’ out.” She quickly held out a bill between her fingers.

“It’s no big deal. Jeff needed a ride home anyways.” Eddie shrugged once again, passing a baggy into her hand that was still resting in the van. “Actually, Moose, I heard some shit about you today.”

“Oh shit.” She laughed, keeping one hand on the van as she leaned away and put her weed away. Fumbling with something else in her pocket, she tried to change the subject, “do you want some candy?”

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Eddie smiled at her as she leaned back against the van, defeated.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “First, what did you hear?”

“Apparently Hopper chased you down for being… ‘drunk and disorderly’ out on Kerley last night.” He explained as Jeff laughed in the other seat, the younger boy knew the actual story, hearing it from Cynthia in their shared class.

The girl hung her head in shame.

“It’s all good, Moose. It’s happened to the best of us.” That made Jeff laugh even more.

“Sucks you believe that, Munson.” She finally responded, “I wasn’t drunk and disorderly, alright? I was walking home, extremely sober, from the Wheelers’ after Nancy’s mom snitched on me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, it was past curfew so he had to pick me up. That and I’ve been out of the house since Sunday.”

“You’re not home a whole lot, are you?” Eddie asked, slightly concerned.

Cynthia deflected with a laugh and a shrug, “do you want some candy? Last offer.”

“I’ll have some.” Jeff spoke up, holding his hand out.

Reaching over Eddie and handing their friend a small candy bar, Cynthia turned her attention back to the metalhead, “What about you, Eddie? Want some candy?”

“Yeah, of course. Got any chocolate?”

“You’re shit outta luck, dude, I got a sucker or sweethearts.” She laughed, fiddling around in her pocket once again.

Defeated, Eddie set out his hand, “I’ll take the sucker.”

“A sucker for a sucker.” Cynthia laughed, handing him a red, heart-shaped sucker. “See you guys around.”

They watched as she walked back up to the house before turning the van back on. “What’d you get?” Eddie asked his friend when he heard him eating the candy he just received.

“Laffy Taffy.”

Nodding, he didn’t believe his friend. “Sure. Taffy? Jeff, you have braces.”

“I can indulge.” He lied, trying to stop the older boy from wrestling his hand open to find the wrapper.

Eddie was victorious, “a snickers? Jeffrey, I think Moose is playing favorites.”

June 1985 Forest Hills Trailer Park

2:43 pm. Eddie trudged out to his van in the late June heat. He was currently thankful for his KISS shirt that he cropped so the edge of it sat right above the waistline of his jean shorts. After he got in, keeping the door open, he took some time to dig through his cassettes. Ultimately deciding on Blizzard of Ozz before sticking a cigarette between his lips and starting his van to limp to the more experienced mechanics.

Speeding up the road, he spotted a familiar station wagon turn onto the road. Slowing down to let the car pass on the narrow street, he was met with Moose. Wallace had told him the day before that she was asking about him. Eddie’s friend seemed exasperated about the topic.

Setting the cigarette down, he cranked his window open as the driver of the opposite car slowed down by him, “What’s up, Moose?” He leaned out of his van, disregarding the heat.

She seemed unprepared as she shuffled to mirror the older boy, “I heard from Wally that you were back in town and I was out today so I wanted to drop by to see if you had any?”

The boy laughed and ran a hand through his messy bangs, “yeah, I have to go see my guy and get some. Could you give me a ride?”

“Um, I— yeah, that’s cool.”

“You sure?” he asked, she nodded, “meet me at Bell’s Auto on Pine? I have to bring this beast in.”  He patted the door for good measure.

“Sure thing.”

✰✰✰

Eddie slowly pulled into Bell’s right in front of the garage doors and was surprised to see Moose already there, moving bags from the front seat and setting them into the back. When did she pass him up?

He got out and watched as she pushed a cooler onto the back seat, “How’d you get here so fast?”

She jumped in surprise, somehow not noticing Eddie behind her, with a laugh she replied, “you took an odd turn, I just went up Main.”

“My way’s faster.” He defended his ‘odd’ turn. He felt a bloom in his chest as she laughed at what he said. It was then he noticed that their outfits were nearly similar.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Munson.”

The drive was nearly silent, only the wind and the occasional puff of a cigarette occupied the car.

Cynthia pulled her hand in from the outside and glanced at the boy next to her, “there’s a box under your seat, it has some of my tunes in it. Find something you like.”

“You gonna have anything my speed?” He half-joked. He grew hopeful when he looked over at her, a smile on her face and AC/DC on her tee.

“Don’t start, Eddie.”

It took him a couple minutes of picking up a case and looking to see what it was before he found one that was clearly made at home and the cover just said Summer ‘82 (KISS, Crüe, Blondie, Whitney). Popping it into the radio, he waited, listening, until the beginning notes of Sure Know Something started.

“Where did you find that?”

He thought he did something wrong for a second before she turned up the music and started bobbing her head. “It was at the bottom of the box.”

“Good pick.” She complimented, taking a puff of the cigarette between her fingers.

Another 20 minutes down the road, Eddie instructed her to pull over to a small, shaded path, “wait here, I’ll walk the rest of the way and be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” she sighed, relenting. Cynthia wanted to just drive him up but he told her that his guy didn’t like people knowing where he lived. “See you in a bit.”

For the fifteen minutes that Eddie was gone, Cynthia mindlessly flipped through one of her sister’s old wrestling newsletters in between killing the odd mosquito that made its way into the warm car.

The current summer air reminded her of the days that her dad would take her and Beth to swim out at Jordan Lake in east Hawkins. She could feel the sadness building in her chest as she reminisced about days that were long gone; melting down onto the leather bench, she tried to breathe, pushing away tears that were about to spill out.

When she finally calmed herself down, she opened her eyes. They were blurry and when she looked up and out of the passenger window by her feet, she saw a blurry figure. She flinched hard, “son of a bitch.” She gasped as she wiped her eyes and saw Eddie, smiling with concern in his eyes.

Reaching forward, she pulled the lock up and let Eddie in, “scared the hell outta me, man.”

“I could tell.” He snickered, “takin’ a nap, Moose? Am I that boring?”

She laughed as she scooched back into the driver seat, “You’re thrilling, bud. I was resting my eyes.”

“Okay.” He relented, settling into the seat, he put a bag onto the floor by his feet as he watched the girl next to him lay her head on the steering wheel. “You alright?”

When she didn’t respond, Eddie hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, “hey.”

She peered over at him from behind the hair that curtained her in like a shield, “I’m alright.”

Eddie pulled his hand away as she leaned back against the seat as she gathered her hair into her hands.

Giving a small smile, Cynthia actually looked over at him. “I’m good. Long day.” Tying her long, dark hair into a bun before she started the car, “let’s get outta here, yeah?”

On the way back, Eddie had pointed her to a left turn and continued in the winding woods, he insisted continuing around the lake would be quicker to get back into town.

“So what happened to your van?”

Eddie picked at his rings, “I just got back from Saginaw, fucked up my tires pretty bad on the way back. Also just general wear and tear.”

“You do drive like a mad-man.” Cynthia laughed.

“I’d call it efficient.”

“Whatever you say, Munson,” she playfully rolled her eyes. “What were you doing in Michigan, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He pulled his eyes from the road and watched as they sped through the trees, he rubbed at his slightly tanned arms nervously before he eventually answered, “I went to visit my mom.”

“Oh,” Cynthia readjusted her grip on the wheel and took a glimpse at the boy in her passenger seat, “how’d that go?”

“Alright.” Eddie shrugged, shrinking into himself. “Yeah, I had to break the news to her that I got held back. Again.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.” It was silent in the van for what seemed like forever, only the radio playing between them. She didn’t really know how to respond. “At least now you get to finish it out with Jeff and Wallace.” Maybe not the right thing to say but it could be comforting.

He gave a small laugh, “Yeah, stupid might cancel out somehow.”

She peeked at the boy to her right and gave him a nudge on the shoulder. “Trust me, it does. How do you think we got Tim outta there?”

“Oh, yeah. Henderson.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia was caught off guard by his response. “What happened with you guys? He says you were his first friend when he moved to town.”

“I guess. Then he went full dark side on us.”

Cynthia felt bad laughing, knowing it would egg Eddie on in his incoming rant. “Dark side? Wow.”

“Yeah! We were cool at first when school started then he just dropped us.” He started waving his hands as he talked. “Then he started sports and hanging around guys like Bull and Tommy B. We tried to be cool but—“

“How long has that truck been behind us?” She interrupted, looking in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know, but it does look like a—” He tried to turn around to look properly before Cynthia laid a hand on his arm, making him sit forward.

“Oh fuck, it’s fucking Hopper. Oh shit.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned over, looking in the mirror on his side of the car while shuffling his bag further under the seat.

“Yes, I’m sure. The fuck is he doing out here?”

“He’s a cop, Moose, isn’t it kinda his job to be out here?”

Running a hand through her hair, she kept her speed moderate. “I guess. Shouldn’t he be dealing with shitbirds over at the mall?” She didn’t have another moment to chill out before the blue and red light started flashing on the truck behind them. “I can handle this, just sit there and look pretty,” she tried to crack a quick joke.

Eddie nodded with a quick laugh as they pulled into the dirt and waited for the cops to walk up the car.

“What’s goin’ on, rat-stache?” Cynthia nodded at Callahan as he appeared at her passenger window.

“Really?” We pulled you over and you’re gonna under—” The younger cop was cut off.

“Cynthia Moose.” Hopper greeted, setting his hat on the top of her car. “And,” he leaned down, getting a better glimpse at the guest in her car, “Eddie Munson, didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, just last night.”

Hopper scanned the odd pair and waited for a smart remark from the Moose girl akin to the one Callahan received. When she didn’t speak up, he said, “Your mom called the station today. Wanna tell me why?”

“I don’t know, man.” Cynthia was genuinely taken aback. “She knows I have the car, I have work tonight.”

“I need something better than that, last time we got a call like this, we found you out by the Pinelli’s up in Merrick Park after six days.” He was losing his patience with the girl.

“Dude, I—“ She was getting frustrated, there was really no reason for this. “I don’t know. I brought Beth to her softball game at noon and that’s it.”

“That’s it?” Hopper leaned down, taking his sunglasses off and asked, “where are you two coming from?”

“Can we keep this between us? She’s not gonna be happy with me,” Cynthia rambled on, “I just got my shit together, my mom can’t know about this. Please, Hopper?”

Jim Hopper sighed and, with a stern nod, told Callahan to go back to the truck.

Eddie got nervous, he wanted to say something but this wasn’t really his situation and he didn’t want to get Moose in trouble for his weed run. But he was stunned even more by how she replied to the cop.

“Skull Rock.”

The cop was taken aback, repeating, “Skull Rock?” to the teens in the car incredulously.

“Yeah, man,” Cynthia replied, becoming more confident in her lie, “why do you think we got a cooler and blankets back there? We had a picnic and.. Hung out.”

“Okay.” Hopper nodded; not really believing the pair but knowing Cynthia’s past boyfriend, he took it into consideration as he peeked behind them into the back of the wagon. “This true, Munson?”

Eddie looked beyond Moose’s dark, pleading eyes and straight at the Chief, “Yes.”

He didn’t want to deal with this, but he found that it was better to deal with Elaine Moose’s calls regarding her oldest sooner rather than later. Sighing, wiping sweat from his brow, “Get back to town, go see your mother. I won’t mention this.”

Cynthia let out a deep breath, “holy shit, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Hopper grabbed his hat and stepped away from the car, “get outta here.”

Eddie also let out a breath as he heard the engine turn over and they started rolling.

“Holy shit, holy shit.” The girl basically chanted as they picked up speed, heading back to town.

“Hey, Moose?” It was his turn to interrupt as he leaned his head back against the car. “If it’s alright, I’m never riding with you anywhere ever again.”

Letting out a quick laugh before she pushed a cassette into the radio, she replied, “Understandable.”

[rosetheex-editor]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The transcript begins from inside a car, the camera facing the road as someone can be heard sobbing as the car pulls into what looks like a graveyard. A person can barely be seen punching the ground in front of a grave, the car door opens and the camera changes position to someone's front shirt pocket. The person with the camera begins running, making the video go out of focus.]

?: NESS!

[Voice identified: Henry.]

H: Ness, thank god you're ok! I've been looking everywhere for you!

?: Go away henry…

[Voice identified: Ness.]

H: What do you mean go aw-

[Henry is interrupted by a rock being thrown in his direction, Ness remains looking at the ground, sobbing.]

Ne: GO AWAY, HENRY! LEAVE ME ALONE!

H: I…

Ne: WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT MARINA?

H: I was going to tell you when you got home.

Ne: HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN DEAD, HENRY?

H: Nes–

[Henry is interrupted by another rock.]

Ne: HOW. LONG?

H: 3 days. As of today, it's been three days.

Ne: W– Why didn't you tell me?

H: I couldn't find the right words, I didn’t know how.

[Ness grabs something out of a box, holding her hand out to Henry to show him, It’s a note. The note reads "Marina and I both had so much fun on the 16th! Honestly, if I were you, I’d be eating my heart out! Whoops! It looks like I already had a bite of hers. ;) –Cassius" in red. Ness' hand drops to the ground, dropping the note with it. she begins sobbing once again.]

H: …

Ne: Do you understand henry… What it's like to be working… then, you get a box that has the heart of someone you knew and cared about in it?!

H: Ness…

[Ness turns her head, her face covered in cuts and dirt tears running down her face, her eyes bloodshot from crying. She holds out the other thing in the box. A heart with a few bites taken out of it.]

Ne: HENRY. I HAD TO SEE HER HEART WITH A FUCKIN CHUNK TAKEN OUT OF IT! I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO SAY GOODBYE! I'M HOLDING MARINA'S FUCKING HEART!

H: I'm sorry.

Ne: I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING SORRY, HENRY! SHE'S DEAD! SOMEONE I KNEW AND CARED ABOUT IS DEAD! A SORRY WON'T BRING MARINA BACK, HENRY! EVERYTIME I TURN AROUND SOMETHING HAPPENS TO PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT! MARI AND SARAH ARE STUCK IN THAT FUCKIN’ MALL! ROSE ALMOST DIED! MARINA HAS BEEN DEAD FOR THREE FUCKIN’ DAYS, AND NO ONE FUCKING TOLD ME!

H: I-

[Ness hops up and grabs Henry by the shoulders.]

Ne: You can't tell me it's gonna be ok! Because it's not! So go!

H: Rose is gonna kick my ass if I leave without you.

[Ness falls back to the ground, placing her head on the gravestone, her words muffled as she speaks.]

Ne: Tell her I'll be there later. You know why I'm here.

H: Yeah. You're apologizing to Leanne. Look, it’s not your fault Mari's missing. Just like it's not your fault Marina's gone.

Ne: I promised I'd make sure nothing happened to Mari… Just like Me and Marina promised each other to take care of one another. I'm a fuckin’ coward Henry.

H: There's nothing you could have done…

[Henry throws his car keys at Ness, she turns around and looks at him in confusion.]

H: I'll call an uber, be safe driving back and don't wreck my car.

Ne: Got it… Thanks for letting me stay here.

H: Yeah no problem. I'll tell Rose you just need some time.

[Henry bends down and gives Ness a hug, before standing back up and starting to walk off. Before he can actually leave, he's interrupted by Ness.]

Ne: Can we find her tomorrow? Marina?

H: Sure.

[Henry continues walking off, no words, just the sound of footsteps on gravel for 25 minutes before the transcript automatically ends.]

[End transcript.]

[dancing-to-architecture]

29 - The Doors - L.A. Woman (1971)

Not even a full month in and we've got a band repetition, and it's a band i didn't like before, so...

Wait, actually, i kinda like two of the songs on this album. Fingers crossed.

•The Changeling-

The keyboard is back and they have it set to something other than "clown rock"! In fact, it actually kinda kicks some ass here.

Jim's kinda singing like Tom Waits on this one.

"But I've never been so broke i couldn't leave town." So... Not broke, then? Or maybe moving didn't cost so goddamn much back in the day?

All in all, meh.

•Love Her Madly-

The anthem of the Wife Guy, and one of the few Doors songs i genuinely liked before this musical odyssey.

And you bet i love her when she's walking out the door, because when that happens, i often get to see a nice booty as she goes.

Also, I'm fairly certain that she's gonna walk *back in* the door again, because that's generally how doors (and healthy relationships) work.

•Been down so Long-

TOM WAITS RETURNS! to sing about how he should be released from prison so he can go and get his dick sucked.

Honestly had me in the first half, but then the second half starts and I've begun rolling my eyes so hard that i can check out *my own* ass at this point.

•Cars Hiss by My Window-

I like the first lines. Very evocative.

Then the next lines instantly reminds me *why* Jim was so worried about women walking out on him.

Why was it so hard to just... *not* fuck everyone around you at all times, man?

I feel like if Jim Morrison ever did even one second's worth of introspection, he'd have written a song called "I'm the cause of all of my problems".

Shame he died not long after this album released and never got the chance.

•L.A. Woman-

This song is legitimately really good. Everybody's nicely working together musically, the lyrics are not immediately problematic as hell, and even the needless Mr Mojo Rising bridge can't bring it down.

A bit long but it's The Doors, so i was expecting that, and at least this one keeps it moving and doesn't drag on for two full minutes of random noises like The End did.

•L'America-

Cool guitar work in the intro. With the keys coming in, it sounds nice and creepy. Sinister.

Garbage lyrics, though i like the misdirection in the middle.

Okay wait, what the fuck is the tone of this song supposed to be? It's all over the place.

•Hyacinth House-

"I need new friends!" No, you need *better* friends.

•Crawling King Snake-

Kinda bluesy, but there's a heavy vibe of: "The snake is my dick, get it? Do you get it? DO YOU GET IT?!

PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THE SNAKE IS REFERRING TO MY HOG. I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THIS."

•The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)

I don't care if it was '71, by then you should have known that "negroes" isn't fuckin cool to say.

It's even less cool to a modern ear, and everything else is mostly rambly talk-singing trying to sound clever.

•Riders on the Storm-

I love *the music* in this song, and the storm noises throughout are a great touch.

But, as usual for Morrison, the lyrics are the kind of quasi-insightful, rhyming dictionary-ass nonsense that only feel deep if you're so baked that "getting off of a couch" is a Sisyphean task.

Overall, i liked it better than the debut, but that isn't saying much. Still not a Doors fan.

Favorite Track: Love Her Madly. It just makes me think of my wife, because it me for real for real.

Least Favorite Track: a tie between The Wasp and Crawling King Snake.

Casual racism vs "4 more minutes about Jim's dick". Both lose.

[zealiketea]

number 6 :3

"last dream you had"

Honestly I cannot remember so imma go check the last one I texted people about

5 mineut later

Ok this is a bit lengthy, had this dream about 2 weeks ago

Starts off with me at my workplace clocking off of a shift, I feel like grabbing maccas (McDonald's) so I walk up a long twisty road in green pastures and between a big ol rock formation in order to get there (none of these are in real life, the closest maccas to my workplace is a 2 minute walk and visible from the entrance)

I order a big Mac but for some reason there was this weird ass thing in the meal that cist a whopping 40 dollars on its own so I just got my usual instead

Dad got there to pick me up and we had our usual chitchat and he was being his usual witty awesome self, but for whatever reason my meal was taking fucking forever to make so we actually drove back to my workplace to do something in the meantime (I was reluctant but dad insisted)

After a bit he decided to pick up my food for me so I was just kinda at my workplace for a while. For some reason there were 2 delis and some coworker antics were happening at the one I wasn't working in but these were all strangers to me and I had this sudden gut feeling so when I was asked to deal with something I had to kindly reject them

Started walking back to maccas because something didn't feel right and I had these 2 goofy dudes coming with me for some reason idk what was up with them

They went ahead for a bit, leaving me alone when I came to that rock formation. It had collapsed. There was a car in the rubble.

It was my dad.

Just thinking about this peaks my anxiety. I felt worse in the dream.

I guess to compensate my brain killed the 2 dudes following me and somehow their parents were there (they were brothers I guess??) being very comedic-relief-y. Their mum was sobbing about ohh how could this happen this is the worst day of her life surely things can't get any worse and then her husband just dives off a cliff

Never got my maccas in the end and my dad fuckin died 2/10 dream

[jonesy-and-max]

part 16: Crunch

Officer Stewart Mooney took a sip of his hot coco as he turned the steering wheel, making a right turn down Rose Street in his squad car. He thought he’d take a spin around Dreamland Theater, a big premiere could have the potential to get a little rowdy, so he just wanted to stop by and make sure everyone was okay. He wondered if Jonesy and Max would be there.

Back in junior high, Stewart was a shy, quiet kid, an easy target for bullies and the like. He liked to read books about far away lands, draw, and he was becoming a skilled baker by the age of thirteen. He was also a late bloomer, he wouldn’t get his growth spurt until the summer heading into ninth grade. By the end of high school he was on the baseball team, a mathlete, and vice president of the student council. All of that was well and good, his parents were proud, he was proud, but the greatest accomplishment of his entire school career, in his own opinion, was the time he saved Jonesy and Max’s lives in seventh grade. 

The duo was playing their own made up game, sometimes called “Fucky Ball” sometimes it was called “Jaxsey Ball,” either way, it revolved around throwing rocks at each other, climbing things, wedgies, punching, purple nurples, strategically timed farts, obstacles, dares, and of course, chasing each other all over the neighborhood. One day Stewart was sitting on his porch, pretending to read a book, but actually watching the two of them rough house and scream with joy and excitement, desperately wishing he could join in and play their insane game that made no sense. Jonesy had creamed Max with a dirt clod, so, going by the rules, Max now had to give Jonesy a piggyback ride on a skateboard. They both donned their helmets, headbutted several times while they guffawed like idiots, before Max had Jonesy hop on his back. He set up the skateboard and took a running leap onto it, giving them significant momentum as they headed down their sloping street. 

That’s when Stewart noticed the oncoming car. The older man at the wheel was fully distracted by the four hefty dogs riding in the backseat. He was on a collision course with Jonesy and Max! Without even thinking, Stewart sprung into action, running at top speed towards them until he was running directly next to them. The two were laughing and whooping it up, when they both turned their heads to notice Stewart. In an instant he launched himself at Max’s body, the three of them tumbling to the nearest lawn. Jonesy and Max were pissed at the sudden attack and interruption of Assbutt Ball. Max wrapped his fist in the collar of Stewart’s shirt, the other fist ready to pummel a nerd. At nearly the same instant, the oncoming car drove over the innocent skateboard with a dramatic CRUNCH and never once slowed down. Jonesy and Max looked in astonishment at the car as it passed. 

“Dude!” Jonesy and Max said in unison at each other, both realizing how close they had come to brutal injury, or even death.

Max smoothed out Stewart’s shirt, stood up and extended a hand, Jonesy followed suit. Stewart took both of their hands and was yanked onto his feet.

“You saved our lives, dude!” Jonesy slapped him on the back.

“Holy shit dude, I was gonna bash you! I thought you worked for the UFOs I’ve been taunting at night.” Max laughed, Jonesy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at Max with a smirk on her face.

“You’re Stewie, right?” Jonesy asked.

Stewart was absolutely gobsmacked that she knew his name. He didn’t think anyone even knew he existed. “It’s S-Stewart. Stewart Mooney.”

“Oh, shit! Aren’t you the kid who set the teacher’s lounge on fire?”

Stewart liked fire.

“It…was an accident…sorta.” He said the last part quietly.

Max winked at Jonesy and nudged her with his elbow.

“Well, you fuckin’ rule, dude!” Jonesy slapped him on the back again, causing him to trip forward. He flapped his arms to steady himself, but Max grabbed him by the back of his shirt and set him straight.

“If you need anything,” Max put his arm around the waifish boy, “Don’t hesitate to ask!”

“Life debt, dude.” Jonesy made some random, holy gestures, she assumed, kissed the palm of her hand and smacked Stewart right between the eyes.

He stumbled backwards, caught once more by Max and set steady on his feet. Jonesy and Max laughed like goofballs and punched each other in the arms and took off back down the street.

“Later Stewie!” They called back at him.

That was the greatest day of Stewart Mooney’s life.

Everything was nice and quiet at the theater. Stewart smiled, satisfied and finished his hot coco as he pulled into the parking lot. He found a nice spot under a streetlamp, parked, and got out. It was a little chilly for his liking, but found the brisk air refreshing. He hiked up his utility belt and stretched his back. He had been in the car for a while now and a tall fella like himself needed a break every now and then. It was during his stretch he noticed a familiar white van lightly swaying back and forth. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he was sure he wasn’t, that was Max’s van. Officer Mooney checked his watch, Jonesy and Max should be neck deep in the new Chain-Slaughter at this point. He pulled out his flashlight, gave it a flip, and clicked it on. He stepped forward, suddenly there was a crunch under his boot. He looked down to find half of a pair of aviators, the lenses shattered under the weight of his right foot. He crouched down to inspect the scene and found the other half sitting in a thick puddle. Officer Mooney pulled out the pen from his front pocket and hooked it under the arm of the glasses. He brought it to his face and gave it a sniff. 

“Vomit.” He raised an eyebrow, “Curiouser and curiouser.”

The van stopped swaying, but now he could hear voices coming from inside. Trepidatiously he inched towards the back doors of the vehicle. He ran his hand over his chin before shining his light into the right back window. Two sets of eyes as wide as they could get locked with his own.

“Max?!” Mooney shouted.

“What the fuck, Stewie!!” Max yelled.

Mooney tripped backwards, stumbling, attempting to catch himself, before landing on his butt, “Oh, dang, dang! Sorry! Dang, sorry, sorry! I didn’t see anything!”

Max opened the back doors, disheveled, wearing just his “Gore King” shirt, his jeans unbuttoned, a couple hickies on his neck, fumbling, he put his glasses on. Behind him, Gina was putting her shirt back on.

“Dude!” Max shook his head and gestured “what the fuck”-ly at him.

“Your van was a’rockin…and…well…” Mooney realized exactly what he shouldn’t have done the moment those words left his mouth, “I suppose I shouldn’t’a come a’knockin’. That’s on me, that’s my bad.”

Max rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. He looked back at Gina who was applying some cotton candy scented lip balm, uninterested with what was happening out in the parking lot. He looked back at Mooney sitting on the pavement, his face red with embarrassment. Max chuckled and extended a hand to his old friend.

“No worries, dude.”

Mooney relaxed and happily took the lift to his feet.

“Phoof!” Mooney exhaled, chuckling, “I did not expect to see you here, uh, enjoying the company of…Jonesy’s sister?” He was confused as he nodded in Gina’s direction to Max.

“It’s, uh, something new.” Max actually blushed a little bit.

Mooney tried to process this information, which led his brain to a more pressing question, “Wait. If you’re out here with Gina Jones, where’s Jonesy? Is she still in the movie?”

Max looked at the ground and scrunched his nose, “She’s, uh, actually not here. She left.”

“Left?? Why?” Mooney asked quickly before soon realizing maybe why, “Oh. Um.”

“It’s a whole thing.” Max avoided eye contact, “She’s the Silver Mine by now. Maybe even on a date.” Max leaned forward, “I, uh, wasn’t invited.”

“I see.” Officer Mooney put a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder, pulling him in for a big hug.

“Gross!” He struggled to push him off, “Fuck off, Stewie.”

“Okie dokie!” He gave Max a few firm pats on the back before letting him go. Mooney flipped his flashlight in his hand and holstered it, “You two have a good night. My apologies again, Ma’am.” He tipped his invisible hat at Gina who looked him up and down derisively. He turned to head back to his patrol car and took a few steps before catching himself and turning back around.

“Can I just say one last thing, Max?”

“If you feel like you have to…” Max desperately wanted to get back in the van.

“Look, I know it’s probably not my place, but I've known you and Lindsay since we were kids… ” Mooney invoking Jonesy’s first name meant he was serious. 

Max stepped out of the van and took Stewart seriously for the moment. Gina looked at Max and back at Mooney. She pulled herself forward and joined them outside of the van. Mooney nodded politely at her, acknowledging the respect she was showing him.

“If Jonesy is somewhere, and you’re not, well, I bet she probably really wishes you were,” Mooney, “And I’d go out on a limb and say the feeling’s mutual.”

Max looked down at his feet, then over his shoulder at Gina.

“You guys have a good night and take care of yourselves.” Officer Stewart Mooney once more tipped his invisible cap, smiled with genuine kindness and returned to his car to continue his patrol.

Max sighed and walked over to Gina, took her hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

“I gotta go.”

“I know,” Gina huffed.

“He’s right.”

“She’s pretty helpless. She probably stepped in a beehive and is running around with a bucket stuck on her head somewhere.”

“Pfah!” Max chuckled and put the palm of his hand to his forehead, “Been there!”

Gina looked at him, concerned, “Wait, what?”

“I’M COMING, JONESY!!”

Max spun Gina around, dipped her, grabbed a handful of booty cheek, and planted a big ol’ smooch on her lips.

“Let’s do something this weekend!” Max pulled out his keys and headed for the driver’s seat, “I can show you the tracks where me and Jonesy throw rocks at trains!” He gave her a million air kisses and pulled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

Gina watched this all play out in stunned silence. Finally, she closed her mouth, sighed, and looked up into the night’s sky, “So, this is my life now.”