#and wheeling it in front of some poor person's home

[fisheito]

I know you and that anon were riffing, but historical unsolicited dick pics are absolutely a thing. humans love sending eachother nudes, throughout time. sketches, paintings and even SCULPTED REPLICAS are recorded as being sent by lords to prospective lovers. can you imagine being the artist commissioned for that? being the hans holbien of penises?? and now 500 years later the painting you did of baron whatevers cock and balls is in a museum?? wild.

i love it when my delusions are backed up by historical facts and an entire creative archive of humanity's urge to send nudes

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[rookiesbookies]

“so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honor what else was I supposed to do”

With my boys (141+Konig+Keegan)

Price

Price is not a man to bring violence into his domestic life. He just refuses to. He has the gun under the couch and the hand gun in his bedside table, and that’s all the violence at home he needs.

HOWEVER.

The night you both had gone on a nice date and decided to end the night at a pub he was just having a good time. He didn’t want to be bothered. He was having a nice time.

When he watched the guy come up behind the two of you slurring, he was already set on edge. When the man grabbed your ass? There was zero hesitation.

Punch landed square between the poor guys eyes, John took a long sip of his drink and left a $100 on the table to cover any problems and the two drinks you both had, before taking you by the hand and leaving.

The man had a thick skull and Price honestly just ignored the fact that he had clearly probably broken a bone in his hand because the head you were giving him made it all so worth it.

Soap

Surprisingly, it was not a random person he punched.

He and Gaz had gotten into a petty argument. It shouldn’t have started, really.

Apparently Gaz made some snarky comment about Soap’s girl. It was before Gaz and his girlfriend had started dating so he didn’t have a woman to put him in his place over the shitty comment.

Johnny, however, was happy to oblige.

It took both Ghost and Price to pull him off Gaz, who was luck Soap only got a few good hits in. Soap was sent home like a kid from school and John stapled a note to his shirt explaining what had happened.

What Captain John Price didn’t expect, however, was for you to reward this behavior.

Little kitten licks and fluttering kisses up and down his length, tell him how proud you were he defended you before giving him the sloppiest of his life.

He brain melted, Soap had half the mind to punch Gaz for it again next time he saw him just to see if she would reward him again.

Ghost

Oh, he had considered strangling your ex more than once. But he caught him at your doorstep when he had just gotten back from a mission.

He wasn’t Simon yet. He was still Ghost.

So when the fucker was banging on your door, he was happy he had insisted on getting you a better front door lock. He could see you running to your bedroom, probably to get the handgun he kept under the dresser.

He almost wanted to call you and tell you not to bother.

He tore the man away from the door and just went ham. It wasn’t until you returned and looked out the window to see what had happened that Simon held up the man bloody and bruised and passed out.

Simon shoved the dude in whatever car he came in before driving to the middle of nowhere and leaving an only mildly threatening note, before having you pick him up.

When you went from kissing the splits and blood from his knuckles ot undoing his belt, he was so grateful his old square body had a bench seat.

The death grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping him sane. Almost pulling over to cum in your mouth but he had pulled into yalls shared driveway before he even realized. He had probably been doing felony speeds.

He took off his mask for the first time since he got home and planted soft kisses on your face. He mumbled something about not needing to reward Ghost for his usual behaviors between pecks.

Konig

Being the big bad colonel’s sweet little wife had its perks. Walking around the base with no problems, getting to spend all day chilling in his lap, never having to be far from him.

The worst time of year was when Konig had to deal with new recruits, who were already older gentlemen but clearly weren’t raised right and who didn’t understand how things worked in his base.

So when one of the recruits was pushing you around, getting too close and touchy, Konig didn’t hesitate.

One big swing, but that wasn’t enough. Konig was going to make an example of him.

Drug him out to the front of the base and gathered all of the recruits and made a scene. He made an example.

Dude got pummeled by Konig.

You honestly didn’t need to give him head, the satisfaction of putting that man in the med bay was enough. But when the idea left your sweet lips he would never refuse.

His bloody knuckles lovingly rubbing your face and massaging your hair as you struggle to fit it in your mouth, giving him big doe eyes? Its his favorite.

Keegan

Also punched a teammate. You had been brought on base for a celebration, everyone was in all their formal uniforms and outfits.

He had stayed sober, unlike most of his teammates.

Most of them didn’t have any women of their own.

Keegan just found out why.

It was a random Sargent from a different group, clearly hadn’t let you get a word out and just kept talking. Too drunk to realize that if you were here you were probably a spouse.

Keegan just gave him a nice smack to the gut, which ended up making the guy projectile vomit in the middle of the festivity room.

Someone definitely over-served by this dude.

But the way you kissed away the littlest bits of blood from Keegan’s had since his dry knuckle had caught on one of the guys pins and tore open. Made his heart melt.

I guess it melted into his dick because he knew EXACTLY what was happening when you pulled him away and down an empty and dark hall.

Oh he loved the way your lips kissed around him, living lipstick in their wake, before leaving a nice colored ring of it around his shaft.

Oh he’d wear it too proudly. Makes jokes about never washing his dick again.

Gaz

You and Gaz were in a booth on a double date with Soap and his girl. Simple date, just chilling. Soap was making jokes about how Kyle totally had a glow up now that he’s met his girl and about how Kyle probably understands why Johnny punched him for the comment a couple months back. (See Soap’s for an explanation)

However, that story just reminded Gaz, and gave him a good idea.

He mumbled something about still needing to get back at Soap for it. Also mumbling about how his nose still isn't right and his jaw still pops

One swift punch, Kyle was back how he was sitting before like it never even happened.

However the head he got in the family bathroom for that punch being hot while Soap and his girl thought Kyle had an emergency bathroom trip while his girl was changing her pad was crazy.

He almost broke the changing table off the wall with how he was gripping it.

Truly life changing.

Almost hit Soap again when they got back to the table.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always and requests are open.

[fisshbones]

Hcs of some Hoyoverse characters!!

ft!! Heizou, Sunday, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Furina, Sampo, Xiao, & Pela

Genre: fluff/crack!! No warnings that I can think of besides of being mildly ooc and some being shorter than others. Could be read as platonic. Modern Au Gn! Reader.

Heizou ->

Has thousands and thousands of screenshots, pictures, and videos saved on his phone. Refuses to delete them because “you never know, they might come in use later.” Once in a VERY LONG while does his habit actually pay off. He’s paying for the cloud subscription service 1000% If he doesn’t his phone is borderline useless. If you go through it you’ll wonder how he finds jack sh*t in that phone, there’s no organization on/in that thing. That being said he doesn’t need to put things in separate albums because he had absolutely no issues with finding what he needs. (he’s literally me)

Sunday ->

Sunday likes to tend to his multiple gardens back where he lives. There’s two green houses back at his home. One is his and one belongs to his dear sister. If you want one too, he’ll gladly make some plans for yours next. When him or Robin can’t tend to the flowers, he has a gardener come tend to them in the meantime. While all of them brings joy to him he has a special soft spot for (white) calla lilies and spider mums.

Scaramouche/Wanderer ->

The definition of an annoying menace. He’ll put sticky notes with (sometimes with writing) on your back without you knowing. He used to do this to Childe too, only when it was Childe it would be way meaner. One fool read the ‘kick me’ note on his back and actually did it. Poor idiot guy learned a lesson that day. The worst he’s put on your back was a note with a stupid face on it. And if someone makes fun of you for it, he’ll give them a black eye! He’s the only one allowed to be an ass to you. :)

Furina ->

Does catwalk struts in her mirror when no one is home. She gets wayyyyy too into it. She’ll start on one side of the house and when she gets to her mirror she’ll strike a pose. One time you walked into her standing in front of the mirror doing pose 28. She couldn’t look into your eyes for a week afterwards. If you ask her to give her a lil show, she’ll do it but don’t laugh cause she might cry. lol. (she’s so me coded)

Sampo ->

He plays those driving games with the steering wheel and all. Sampo started streaming it too to make some hot cash$$ This man is DEDICATED to the act he preforms while streaming this game. If he gets into an accident in the game he makes it look like it happened irl too. He’s given himself whiplash from how fast and hard he slammed himself in his chair. think this.

Xiao->

BIG CONCERT FAN!!! Hates the crowds so much though (T ^ T) He’s so not a people person. Always manages to get great seats for you guys. He’s willing to see any performer if it’s for you, even if it’s not someone he likes. I personally see him as liking every genre of music, so there’s a fat chance he’ll still like the music being played. Xiao would put you on his shoulders if you ask him too. But I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to see any better this way because of how short he is.

Pela ->

Pela makes a crap ton of edits and fanfics. Any where between thirst edits and angst edits of anime characters. She’s got over 50k followers just waiting for her to drop the newest robin or satosugu edit. She’s also got of followers on the platform she posts her fanfics on. She’s big on x readers AND ship fics. That girl puts in work making sure both her edits and fics are absolutely perfect.

If you enjoyed likes/reblogs/replies are appreciated!!

fisshbones © 2024 do not repost or translate

[loves0phelia]

The Maybank Twins

Summery: which dream would you pick?

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A/N: Sorry I feel like this fic is all over the place and barely understandable but I had the idea of JJ having a twin since I learned JJ's real name was Jackson so I hope you like it anyway xx

JJ and Jackson were intensely different despite being twins. But it wasn't always like that.

Both boys were born kooks, but as children, the status did not matter. Being a kook or a pogue didn't have a meaning until you grew up. Kids from both sides of the island enjoyed playing with each other. That's why when they met you they didn't hesitate to befriend you even if you were a pogue.

On a beautiful Saturday, you took your shiny pink bike and began pedalling down the roads around town to the point where you crossed the line into Kook territory. You knew your dad wouldn't like you travelling so far from home but you loved to admire the large houses with picket fences and pools. You always dreamed of visiting one. 

As you were looking with dreamy eyes at everything but the path in front of you, the front wheel of your bike caught the side of a sidewalk.  The handlebars jerked to one side, and you tumbled forward. Hitting the ground with a soft thud, your knees scraped against the rough concrete.    

You sat up slowly, tears welling in your eyes as you examined your knees. Both were scraped and red, with tiny spots of blood forming on the surface. Your palms stung from catching yourself.

The commotion probably alerted some people because next thing you knew two boys around the same age as you came running out of the house you were wrecked in front of.   

They both darted out of the yard, weaving through the iron gate and across the street to where you sat on the concrete.  

“Hey, are you okay?” one of them asked, crouching down beside you.  

You sniffled, wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I fell off my bike.”  

“Come in, we can give you a bandaid,”  the second boy said without hesitation, looking at your scraped knees.

The first boy reached for your bike to place it to safety while the second helped you up on your feet and helped you inside the large mansion-looking house.

Inside, it felt even bigger. The tall ceiling and window looked fantastic. You almost forgot your pain as you looked over the various decorations.

“There sit” You sat down slowly on the gray cushions of the couch and tried to not get any blood on it.

“I’m JJ by the way, that was a badass fall, It looked so cool” He smiled and laughed, for a moment you were almost proud.

“Don't say that JJ she could have been really hurt and it's not cool” The boy crouched in front of you with a cloth soaked in lukewarm water and pressed it to your knee.

“You're just boring, Jackson, you don't think anything is cool!” JJ argued with his brother and Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do!” They continued bickering next to you until a beautiful blond lady came into the room.

“Boys, what is going on?” She asked with her hands on her hips looking over her twins.

The childish argument stopped immediately as if both of them were soothed by their mother's presence. “We saw this girl fall off her bike, we wanted to help her” JJ muttered.

“Did you guys ask her, her name?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. But both of them shook their heads. “I thought I raised you two to be gentlemen, what's your name honey?” 

“y/n” 

“That's such a pretty name, I hope these boys weren't too much of a pain for you” She whispered but JJ and Jackson definitely heard and you simply giggled.

This was the moment you began to be a constant person in their lives. Both of them loved you until they grew up and this love changed into something more.

When you all all turned from children to teenagers the words kooks and pogues began to have a meaning. You were now divided into two groups, rich and poor. But the boys didn't agree with this mindset. Especially JJ. After their mom died he became reckless. He Jumped on any opportunity to go on an adventure or to feel just an ounce of adrenaline. He was sick of the bubble wrap and wanted to live freely like the pogues.

Jackson on the other end even though he disliked the hate between each side of the island, he refused to drop everything like his brother to live a careless life. He wanted to go to college, he wanted to have a bright future, with a beautiful house, a wife and maybe even kids. He wanted the picket fence dream.

And you? You didn't know which dream to pick.

The dream with JJ where everything is joyful and exciting. 

Or the dream with Jackson where everything is soothing and comforting.

JJ

The Bluetooth speaker blasted an upbeat song, filling the small living room with pounding bass and lyrics. JJ stood in the center of the room, wearing his signature goofy grin and wildly waving an imaginary microphone in the air.  

“AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” he screamed, his voice cracking in all the wrong places.  

You rolled over on the couch in laughter, clutching your stomach. “JJ, you’re ruining Whitney Houston! That’s a crime!”  You both laughed as the song ended and Don't Stop Me Now by Queen started playing

“You think that’s bad? Just wait for this!” JJ leaped onto the couch with a dramatic flair, now holding an empty glass beer bottle as a microphone. “DON’T STOP ME NOW! I’M HAVIN SUCH A GOOD TIME”  

“ I’M HAVIN’ A BALL!” You screamed following the lyrics, jumping up to join him. You grabbed a remote control off the coffee table and sang into it like it was your own microphone, matching JJ’s energy note for note.  

“You’re awful!” he yelled over the music, grinning ear to ear.  

“Excuse me?” You shot back, pretending to be offended. “I’m carrying this!”  

“Please, you’re the backup singer at best!”  

“Asshole!” You gasped and pushed him making him stumble and fall on his butt on the soft cushion but he quickly recovered, standing back up and grabbing you by the hand to dance on the dirty rug. Without a second thought, he turned bringing you with him and dipping you as dramatically as he could making you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

He pressed a big messy kiss on your cheek and laughed again at the disgusted face you made before wiping away the saliva with his palm. 

The next song started—a slow, cheesy love ballad. JJ struck a mock-serious pose, reaching out a hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”  

You rolled your eyes but played along, taking his hand. “You may, good sir.”  

You swayed dramatically around the room, both purposefully stepping on each other’s feet and exaggerating every movement. JJ spun you out and back in, and you both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of laughter as the song ended.  

“That was awful,” You said, catching your breath.  

“The worst,” JJ agreed, his head tilted back against the cushions. Then he glanced at you, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Wanna go again?”  

“Duh.”  

It was always like that between you and JJ. Loud, obnoxious, happy. You both never caught a break in each other's presence. But you loved it, you loved him.

JACKSON

Your fist knocks softly on the door of the twin's house. The sound feels like it echoes in the home. After a couple of seconds of nothing, no voice, no footsteps you try again. Louder this time.

“JJ I swear if you forgot your keys again- oh hey” the door swung open revealing the twin you were looking for.

“Hey Jacks.” you smile noticing his messy blond hair meaning he was probably taking a nap.

“Uhm JJ isn't here” he scratched the back of his head and leaned on the doorframe.

“Actually I came to see you… we haven't hung out much lately” you said looking up at him.

“Yeah sorry, I've been studying a lot and I saw you and JJ hang out often. I didn't want to bother you know”

“You never bother, I'm your friend too” he nodded and lifted himself off the frame to let you into the house you knew so well. It was honestly a second home to you.

His room was dimly lit, and much cleaner than JJ’s. You and him lay side by side on the bed, your legs tangled in the blankets.  

He stared up at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting gently on your hand. You lay on your side, head propped in your palm as you looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips.  

“Do you ever think about where we would be if you and JJ never saved me when I fell off my bike?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.  

Jackson turned his head to look at you, his light blue eyes warm and thoughtful. “All the time,” he admitted, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You're like the only person I can talk to about.. anything. JJ, he's my twin but it's easier with you. Moments like this are everything I look forward to.”  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mean laying in bed talking about everything and anything?”  

He grinned. “Yeah I don't get to do it with anyone else”  

Your chest warmed at his words, and you reached out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “I don't get to do it with anyone else either”   

He raised a hand, his fingers brushing your cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. It was soft, lingering, and full of unspoken affection. You closed your eyes at the touch, letting yourself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment.  

It wasn't unusual for you both to show affection like that. Jackson's love language was physical touch and JJ's was quality time.

“I like this,” you murmured after a while, voice barely audible.  

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice equally quiet.  

“Yeah. Just… us. quiet, calm.”  

Jackson smiled, his hand finding yours under the blankets and giving it a light squeeze. “Me too.”  

And it was always like this with Jackson and you loved it, you loved him but you couldn't bring yourself to choose who you loved most.

[the-froschamethyst4]

“We can’t keep him”

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, cowboy! Ghost, children, married couple, kissing, harsh background, mention of abuse, mention of a miscarriage and infidelity, happy ending (I promise),

𖤐Summary: Y/n has a family member that has been in the hospital for some time and this was the first time she sees them and finds about their secret child and brings them home to Ghost

————

————

Y/n Riley, a gentle and kind woman who's done no wrong in her life, but she's here at the hospital after being told her cousin was in the hospital after a fatal car accident, Y/n hasn't gone to see him in the 3 weeks she was notified, she was either busy or didn't want to see the person she called family all torn and beat up.

She stood in the doorway of the hospital room and saw her cousin, he was barely holding on, she couldn't even recognize him. She excused herself and heads to the small courtyard, tears running down her face, fists curled and pushed into her eyes wishing she didn't see what she just saw.

As she sat on the bench, she looks down at her feet, as tears land on her thighs.

"You stay here," a woman who sounded angry pushed a young boy on the bench Y/n was on, and she walked off. Y/n was still sniffling but wiped the tears from her face.

"Why are you crying?" The boy asked.

"What happened to your face?" Y/n tried to change the question. The boy has a bruised eye, a busted lip and some dried blood under his nose.

"Nothing," he says.

"Then I'm not crying," she says.

"My dad's here," he says.

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"Car accident..."

"Car...accident?"

"Yeah," he says, wiping under his nose.

"W-What's his name?" She was scared for the answer.

"Martin L/n."

"Fuck..." Y/n then looks at the ground leaning back on the bench, she then turns to look at the boy. "How...old are you?"

"12," he says.

"Martin," she groans leaning back. "What about your name?"

"Silas."

"Who...who was that woman? Your mom?"

"No, definitely not," he says. "She's my caseworker."

"Caseworker? Something wrong?"

"...Guess you don't know anything about him."

"What did he do?" Now she curious but is also rightfully pissed off at Martin. He was usually a nice and caring man, why does his son have a caseworker?

"He-"

"Silas! Come on, you have to see him." His caseworker yells from the door. Silas doesn't say anything and gets off the bench and heads to the door.

Y/n takes a deep breath and walks to the door as well, going back to the room.

"Who are you? Why are you in here?" The caseworker says.

"Martin is my cousin," Y/n said.

"O-Oh," she doubles down.

"Can he have some privacy to say goodbye?" Y/n looks at the doctor.

"I mean we would but we have a policy that doesn't allow us to leave the room-"

"Your policy is shit and his son should be allowed to say his goodbye, without a doctor or caseworker around," Y/n says. The doctor just nods and motions the caseworker to also leave.

Silas looks at Y/n and then back at his dad on his death bed. Silas plays with his fingers and then looks back at him again.

"You suck as a father..." well that stunned Y/n. "Beat me, left me at school too many times then I can count, left me with that bitch of a caseworker...I hope you rot in hell, and if there's a hell on Earth, I'm already on it," he turns and walks out of the hospital room, Y/n could hear his caseworker call after him.

"Martin...I've don't know what you've done to that poor boy, but you...I'm glad you're leaving, I don't know what you've been doing for the past 6 years, but I know...you deserved this...I loved you, my cousin, but I hate you," Y/n grabbed her purse and walks out of the room, going to her car and starting it up, not before hitting her wheel and screaming out of anger.

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

Going home to her husband, Ghost, he sat on the front porch watching her walk up the stairs like she was tired and her eyes were red and puffy, and Ghost opened his arms for her to sit on his lap and she snuggled to his chest.

"Guessing it didn't go that well?"

"He has a son, Si."

"A son? Since when?"

"12 years. He's had a son for 12 years and didn't say anything to anyone, no one knew...he must have hurt that boy for too long."

"Why do you say that?"

"He has a caseworker, Si, no child has a caseworker unless something has happened to that child."

"What's the kid's name?"

"Silas...he's 12...and all I know from what he said to Martin as a good bye was that he basically hates him...and I do too, Si, Martin lied to us, he was never kind or gentle, he was monster behind closed doors."

Ghost held Y/n close and kissed her temple, he rocks back and forth on the rocking chair sitting on the front porch, the silent rain hitting the top of the roof and on the ground.

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

It's been a week now, Y/n washing dishes as Ghost was getting back from feeding the cows, when he sees a truck pull into the driveway, he kept his composure hands on his belt as he watched the Sheriff come out of the truck.

"Evening Sheriff."

"Evening Ghost, I have something."

"What is it?"

"Not what, who."

"Y/N!!" Ghost yells from outside, Y/n stopped what she was doing drying her hands and coming outside.

"Yes?" She opens her door and sees Silas being held by the hoodie by the Sheriff. "Silas?"

"So you know him."

"Yeah...I do...he's my cousins son. I met him a few weeks ago." The Sheriff released Silas and he went to the tailgate of the truck.

"What did he do?" She asked.

"Stealing."

"Where's his caseworker?"

"Said he didn't want to call her, and said you're his legal guardian." He says. Y/n looks at Silas and takes a deep breath.

"We don't have kids, Sheriff." Ghost says.

"Si...can I have a word with my husband?" Y/n pulls Ghost to the front porch.

"So, that's Silas."

"Yeah...Simon, he doesn't have a home...his only family just died, and if they call his caseworker, he'll go to Foster care."

"Love, it's for the best he goes-"

"No, Simon...you've been in his position before," she taps her fingers into his chest.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" She knew what she was doing.

"We can't...keep him, we know nothing on what a child needs."

"I know he needs a home, right now, parents to take care of him."

"What about his mom?"

"Doesn't know her."

Ghost then takes a deep breath as he looks at Silas swing his feet back and forth on the tailgate and then looks back down at his wife.

"If he stays here, he works," Ghost says.

"Fine, he could use some muscle on him anyways," Y/n walks off the porch and walks to the tailgate where Silas was. "You can stay...if you stay here you work on the farm with my husband, don't worry he's not as bad as he may seems."

The Sheriff had took off a while ago leaving Silas in the care of Y/n and Ghost. Ghost sees Silas at the porch, he seemed like he was going to follow Y/n into the house but stopped him from going in.

"Where you going?" Ghost asked.

"Inside, I'm cold," he says.

"Not just yet, I still haven't fed the pigs, yet, you get to help me with them, and from then on the pigs will now be your responsibility."

"Pigs? Yeah, okay-what I get to move up from the pigs whenever you tell me to?"

"You catch up quick, get your ass moving," Ghost says, showing Silas where he has to go.

Silas goes first walking to the pig pin, Ghost opens the gate and sends Silas inside.

"Grab that bucket. Fill it with slop."

"Slop?"

"That shit right there. It's kitchen scraps, rotten fruit and vegetables," Silas removed the lid on top of the bucket of slop, Silas gags at the smell and puts the bucket inside the slop and scooped out a full bucket full.

Silas continues to gag as he walks to the pigs that crowded around his feet, making him hard to walk around them.

"Push them."

"Push them? They're heavier than me," Silas says.

"Push them," Ghost repeats. Silas used his knee to push the pigs away so he could get to their bowl to dumb everything into it. Once he gets to the bowl and pours everything in, he drops the bucket and goes to the gate where Ghost was.

"Ah, who said you're done?"

"What?"

"You gonna wash Bessy over there."

"Bessy?" Bessy was a big Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. Ghost told Silas that she's probably had about 6 different liters and won 7 blue ribbons at the county fair, she is a force to reckon with, and gets the most dirty out of all the other pigs in the pin.

Silas grabs the hose from the side of the pin turning the water on and spraying Bessy with it, but what Ghost didn't tell Silas was that Bessy hates water and you basically gotta run after her and trap her to wash her.

Silas ran around the pin trying to block Bessy from running, Ghost just laughs at him, Silas then tackles the pig and ended up taking Bessy down with him, he curses and grabs the hose to wash Bessy.

"What the hell is going on? I called for dinner 5 minutes ago!" Y/n says, marching to her husband and Silas. She sees Silas all mudding and dirty, he kind of looks embarrassed to have Y/n looking at him like this.

Y/n slaps Ghost's arm, who wasn't fazed by her smack, but did look at her.

"Why is he in there with them?"

"Cause I didn't get to feed them, so he's doing it, he's now in charge of them."

"Silas, come on, go inside and clean up, dinner is ready." She says, looking annoyed at Simon. Silas walks out of the pin kicking his shoes off at the front door not wanting to trudge mug into the nice and clean house.

"Simon-"

"He's a boy, he's going to get dirty, weather he likes it or not, and the deal was, he lives here, he works here."

"I know that but-"

"But nothing, there is no but," he says. "Come on...thought dinner was ready?"

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

Silas took a nice hot shower, coming down in clothes Y/n could find for him, some old sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

"Thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't have any clothes to fit you, we can go shopping tomorrow, or do you have clothes back at your home?"

"I need new ones..." he picks at the food not wanting to talk more and Y/n didn't push him, but Ghost just stares at the boy and then at his wife, he sees how similar they look, same hair color, those same colored eyes, but Silas was more quiet, rebellious. Y/n gentle, can be stubborn, and a pain in Simon's ass sometimes.

"I need him around the farm tomorrow," Ghost jumps in and looks down at his dinner eating it.

"You have help. Thought Soap, Price and Alejandro were coming?"

"They are-"

"Then you can wait, it won't take long, he needing new things is a bit more important," Silas looks at the couple talking, he leans back into the chair not eating, it caught Ghost's attention.

"Eat kid," he says.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Why?" He pushes.

"Simon, enough...you don't have to if you don't want to...or if you want...we can eat in silence, no more talking about anything," she says, looking at Silas. Silas has never gotten that look before, it was the look of someone who cared, and not angry, Ghost wasn't angry nor annoyed, he's just not use to someone else in his home let alone a kid he's now responsible for.

They ate in silence like Y/n said, Silas had finished first and was excuse to walk around the house and explore if he wanted to. He stumbles upon a room, pushing the door open and seeing it was a nursery. Why would there be a nursery in the house with no kids but him?

He looks around the room was filled with pink things, the walls painted a soft pink color, he looks around when seeing the name 'Luna' on the wall.

"We were going to have a baby at some point," Ghost says, making Silas jump.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine kid..." Ghost comes in slightly closing the door behind him. "My wife was pregnant a while back," he walks to the empty crib in the middle of the room.

"She had a miscarriage around 6 months...she has every right to be more upset than me, we've just kept this room shut and off limits, she was scared to remove everything, so we've left the room alone...we tried for another baby a while back but...my wife...she can't get pregnant..." he looks down at Silas. "Promise me, kid...you act and treat her like a mother, she's doing you a favor by staying here with us, she could told that Sheriff to take you to your caseworker, so be fucking glade," he says.

Silas nods and leaves the room. As Silas leaves and continues down the hall he sees another door opened and Y/n was inside setting up the bed for him.

"Oh, here, you'll be staying in the guest bedroom," she says. She leaves him alone in the bedroom as she makes her way down the hall and sees Simon coming out of the nursery, Y/n's heart clenched in her chest as she looks at him.

"He was in here."

"Oh." She looks at the door at the end of the hall slowly closing. Y/n looks up at Simon and felt tears in her eyes when she thinks about her baby. Simon knew what was coming and picked her up and taking her to their bedroom.

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

Silas woke up to a chicken near his window pecking at the glass and then hears the door creak open.

"Get up, Kid," Ghost says. Silas groans and sits up looking at Ghost in his doorway.

"Thought I was going shopping?" He says.

"Oh you are," Y/n pops her head in. "Simon is just being an asshole."

"Am not, we're up, so he can be up-"

"He can sleep in if he wants to," Y/n shuts the door and pulls Simon away from his door. "You have to leave him alone, he's a child, coming from a rough home already, he doesn't need you in his face or business all the time."

"Love-"

"Don't 'love' me, he's just a kid, you also have friends coming to work with you, you can wait till he gets back." She says, pushing him out of the hallway and onto the first stair.

"Sorry to interrupt but...I have no clothes," Silas calls from the end of the hall.

"I'll get you some," Y/n gives him a smile and then a quick glare at her husband, pushing past him and going to look for more clothes.

She brings up a t-shirt and some jeans. "I think the jeans might be a little big on you," he comes out of the bedroom and Y/n was right. She bends down on to roll up the pant legs and made them look good, then with a thud next to her, there were some old cowboy boots, Simon had found.

"Si."

"Found those in storage," he says. "Unroll that boys pants, he'll look stupid with his jeans tucked in." Y/n rolls her eyes and fixed them how they were before, once Silas got his boots on and put the jeans over the boots, he looked good.

"There," Y/n says. "Perfect, now, come on, let's go see what we can get ya'."

"The boy doesn't need more then 5 shirt, 4 jeans, 12 underwear and 15 pairs of socks." Simon says from the front porch.

"Why so many underwear?" Silas asks from the front seat.

"Because I said so," Simon says.

"I'll get him as much shit as I want to," Y/n says, pulling out of the driveway.

"You two got a kid now?" Soap asked from sitting on top of his horse.

"He's part of Y/n's family, so, I made a deal saying if he stays here, he works here, he doesn't have any clothes, so they're going, he'll be back to take care of the pigs."

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

"How do those feel?" Y/n asked, while she held shirts, and pants, in her arms, she looks down at Silas who was feeling around for his toe.

"They're tight."

"You're not use to them yet," she says. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah," Silas had picked out two pair of boots, a real fancy pair that he promised Y/n he won't wear out in the field but if they go somewhere fancy, then a pair that he'll be using in the pig pin.

"Alright, let's go pay," putting everything on the counter and Y/n paid, Silas looks around the store, seeing some belts, he doesn't have any, but Ghost's black leather belt was on Silas' mind.

He finds one, almost similar to Ghost's belt, he takes it off the rack and goes to the counter.

"And this," he says.

"A belt?"

"I don't have one..." Silas says.

"True alright."

"You want a buckle one it, son?" The old man ringing them out says. Silas looks at the glass case and sees the wide range of buckles.

"That one." Pointing to the one that just a long horn on it.

"Sure." Y/n smiles at Silas as she pays for everything.

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

"Don't let, Simon get under your skin, Silas. He's just not use to a kid being in the house."

"Is he always grumpy?"

"Yeah, just about."

"How'd you even marry someone like him?"

Y/n giggles. "He wasn't always like that," she says.

"He was nice?" Silas sounded shocked.

"He still is." She says, laughing.

"Nah, no, I haven't seen him been nice yet."

"It'll take him a while, Silas, it won't happen instantly."

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

When getting home Silas sees the guys reangling up some cows, he looks at them and walks to the fence, sitting on it and watching them.

"Silas," Simon then points to the pigs. Without a fight Silas gets to the pigs, but he could still watch them.

Y/n walks to the pin and watches Silas, dumping the slop in the bowl and grabbing the hose for Bessy, Silas just knows he's going to hate doing this. He chases Bessy in the pin, she squeals loudly as Silas chases the pig, the guys all stopped to watch watch Silas, they either cheered for Silas or for Bessy.

Silas then tackles Bessy like last time taking her down and starts hosing her off. The guys all cheered and Silas felt slightly embarrassed but then felt great that he was getting cheers from the guys.

He looks at Y/n as she just gives him a soft smile.

"Come on, back to work," Ghost says.

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

Silas helped Y/n in the kitchen, cleaning, washing dishes and then making dinner for them once Ghost was done with the chores around the farm.

Silas had looked outside seeing Ghost coming up to the house, he keeps washing the dishes as Y/n puts everything down to go to the front door and wait for Ghost to open the door. Once he did kicking his boots off at the front, his arms went around her waist and holds her tightly.

Silas watched them, he knew these two were a happy couple, and they were like every other couple, getting into fights and then making up, he watched how Ghost was gentle with her.

"What's for dinner?" Ghost asked looking at Silas and then down at his wife.

"Chicken and mash potatoes," she says. "Something simple."

"What clothes did you get," Ghost asked, looking at Silas.

Silas without another word went to the room he was staying in and brought down the bags. Ghost starts looking through them and pulled some of the shirts out along with some jeans.

"New belt?"

"Yeah, I need one."

"Looks like mine," he says.

"Yeah," Silas looks down and Ghost just smiles a little.

"Fine, looks good, more shirt then I said," he says, looking at Y/n who's back was turned to him.

"I'm allowed to get him as many shirts as he wants," she says.

"New boots, I saw," he says.

"And?" He doesn't say anything, knowing what he might say, she'll give him attitude and make a good point. "That's what I thought," she says. "Anyways, dinner is ready."

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

Silas and Ghost sat on the front porch together, it was silent for a long time but soon Ghost started talking.

"So, kid...how was your relationship with your dad?" He asked, he was blunt, and Silas learned that already.

"Not that great, I guess," he says.

"You guess?"

"My dad did drugs...chose drugs and women over his own kid, yet, I don't know my mother, if I knew my mother...I don't think I'd be here with you two, and there is no telling how crazy she is!" Silas says, leaning back in the rocking chair.

"That's like my dad...my mom was my...hero, I guess, she stood up for me all the time, my dad did drug and was an alcoholic...I never had a good relationship with him..."

"What happened to them?"

"My mom passed away from a heart attack, and my dad overdosed on fentanyl and my brother Tommy died from drugs as well...it's just me..."

"How'd you meet, Y/n?"

"Y/n," when Ghost said her name he smiled and looked at the night sky and bright stars. "She is my fucking world, even though he 'get into fights' she is my everything, I will do anything and everything for her...I met her by a friend of mine, Soap, he showed a photo of her to me because he said 'I needed to get out there' and he set up a blind date for us...we hit it off and got married to each other in 6 months."

"6 months?!"

"Yeah...crazy," he says, chuckling. It stayed silent again till Silas spoke.

"...Am I staying here?" He asked Ghost. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's up to Y/n...you said she's your guardian...that's more up to Y/n then me," he says.

"And he is," Y/n came out of the house, she sits on the arm of Ghost's rocking chair, his arm wrapped around her waist and resting on her hip. "You will stay here...I don't want you going off to Foster care and not know anything about your family. I'm your family now, Simon is your family now..." she cups his chin getting him to look at her. "And I sure as hell will do everything in my power to keep you here, no one will come and take you from us, do you understand?" Silas nods his head.

"If you also stay here, we've got some ground rules for you," Ghost says.

"Like what?"

"One is no stealing, if you get caught again, we're not coming to get you," Ghost says.

"He is right, I don't want to see your mug anywhere," Y/n said.

"Got it."

"You work till I say you're done, you may have the pigs as a responsibility but you also have the goats, sheep and chickens, you pull your weight around here."

As Ghost talks with Silas about the ground rules, Y/n had gotten up and left them to keep talking. Ghost seemed to make a new best friend and Silas knows what love feels like now.

[literallydontknowdontcare]

I’m literally BEGGING a Vanessa x fem!reader where Vanessa gets jelly and it ends up in rough/angry sex

You DO Own Me

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem Reader

PLUS this request: “Can we get Vanessa fucking y/n roughly? Like pulling hair, biting neck and scratching back type of rough?”

a/n: yessir 😜 merged this request with another anon as they coincide… sorry for the delay in fics. I am still sick but that not my excuse: my excuse is I'm lazy lol. This may be shit, sorry ;')

Content/Warnings: Top/Rough Vanessa, Bottom sub reader, smut, choking, strap use [r receiving], rough sex, not proofread/edited, Vanessas kind of an asshole but that's hot

w/c: 2024

The ride home was silent. Well, not completely. Though Vanessa was extremely unimpressed, her lips pressed together and her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white, you were having the time of your life. Under the influence of alcohol, you were giddy and chatty, oblivious to your girlfriend's simmering anger beside you.

“And I literally told Mike that he was insane for thinking those robots cut him in his sleep, but of COURSE he decided to ignore me and continued to take those pills. I mean, really? The poor man is half asleep most of the time!”, you huff, recalling your last shift. “What do you think?”, you turn to Vanessa, your half dazed, half-blushed face informing her that you really did have no idea that she was mad.

“Mm”, she replied, uninterested. You, again, didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “I know! Maybe I should replace them with some melatonin gummies.. He probably wouldn’t notice”, you giggle, rolling down the front window to breathe. Fanning yourself, the alcohol making you overheated, you gaze at the stars outside in awe. The outdoors really does hit differently when you’re drunk. Unbeknownst to you, Vanessa was seconds from snapping. Pulling into the driveway of your shared home and parking her personal vehicle beside her cop car, she immediately stepped outside as soon as the gas turned off and slammed the door shut, ignoring your own door and walking to the front of the house. You frown, beginning to zone back in.

“Maybe she just forgot”, you think, in reference to her not racing to open your door or offering to carry you inside as she usually would. Stumbling out of the car, you follow behind her into the house. “Vanessa?”, you ask aloud, wondering where she disappeared to in the span of two seconds. Pausing, you try to listen for any footsteps around the house for any indication of her location. Nothing. “Vanessa? Baby?”, you repeat, concerned now. Half limping, you shrug off your jacket and kick off your heels, wandering around the house. Finally, in the corner of your eye, you see the upstairs office light getting turned on.

Sprinting up the stairs, going as fast as your tipsy body would allow you to, you head for the office. Before you could open the door you heard a mumbling sound. Cracking the door open, you witness your girlfriend pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, yes. I understand. I just thought- no thank you. I’ll be alright. Sorry for the misunderstanding”, Vanessa answered someone on the line, grinding her teeth when she saw you enter. “Thank you. Have a good one”, she hung up the phone, turning away from you and leaning against the desk.

“Vanessa? What’s wrong?”, you whisper. She snorted.

“What? Now you notice?”, she spits, still not turning around.

You bit your lip, anxious at her reply. “What was the phone call about?”

“Work. Nothing for you to worry about”, she then laughs. “Not that you were, to begin with”. She leans over the desk, reaching for a pen and paper to jot something down, and you try to not let your mind race with thoughts of her rolling her hips forward as you can tell she needs comfort right now, not a horny girlfriend.

You walk towards her nervously. “Are you okay baby? You were fine in the car-”

She snaps at you. “No. I wasn’t. If you weren’t so lightweight you would know that”. Stillness filled the air, the only noise coming from the scribbles of the pen as Vanessa jotted down the information from the phone call.

Coming up behind her, you gently place your hand on the back of her arm. “Is this- is this about Mike?”, you watch her jaw clench from the side. Blinking in surprise, you reiterate. “It is? Isn’t it?”

“Drop it”, Vanessa scowls, shoving herself off the table. Your foggy brain couldn’t help but think ‘muscle memory’ with the way she practically ground against it in annoyance.

“Are you serious? He’s a respectful guy! His old crush means nothing”, you protest.

“Nothing? You make me sick”

“What do you want from me? For me to spit on him and never talk to him again?”, you snap, frustrated now.

She crosses her arms. “Preferably”, she snickers. She comes closer to you. “Or maybe you like the attention? Hm?”

You pull away, hurt. You’d like to believe she was drunk saying this, but she was completely sober. “Vanessa-”

“Poor you, huh? Do I not give you enough attention? Is my poor baby always so needy”, she mocked, snarling.

You blink away tears and begin to walk out of the office when you feel a gust of wind and a sudden thud against your back. Gasping, you slam into the wall, your head narrowly missing the collision. Before you could turn around, you felt Vanessa pin your hands behind your back, her cuffs clenching around your wrists and shutting with a loud ‘click’.

“What the fuck Van-FUCK”, your sentence gets cut off as you hear a loud smack; Vanessa had just hit your ass. You feel numb for a few seconds, and then everything after that. You whine out, trying to cover yourself as she grabs your cuffed wrists and pins them above your head, her other hand coming around your waist to arch your back towards her. “Always whining. Never taking what I give you”. She slaps you again, the force of her hand biting your skin, surely leaving red marks that would turn purple tomorrow. You bite your lip, pain, and pleasure fighting to take over your emotions. You settle on both and she digs into your scalp, raising you up to her. You whimper out as she turns your head to the side and begins to suck at the front of your neck. Your life flashes before your eyes; having to walk in tomorrow at Freddy’s, a hickey so prominent that any efforts to hide it with makeup make it look evening trashier, and Mike seeing exactly what she did to you. You never understood her anger when it came to Mike; she liked him well enough. You just were never allowed to talk to him, apparently.

“Vanessa, please”, you whisper as she bites the side of your neck, pain seeping in. Squirming, she finally releases you. You flop against the wall, breathing heavily as she stares you down.

“Look at you”, she hisses. Everything about Vanessa commanded respect. Not one part of her demonstrated sex except for her slightly flushed cheeks and large pupils. Her hair was perfectly in place, her shirt was properly ironed. You, on the other hand, were tied up, beaten, and most definitely not commanding respect. It was exactly how Vanessa liked it on days like this.

She leans forward, tangling her hands gently in your hair. She tugs on your strands gently, lulling you into a false sense of security as you close your eyes, content. You should have known it wouldn’t last. “Pathetic, you are”, she says. Suddenly, she drags you to the office desk, making you gasp out in pain, flinging your hands to hers in a poor attempt to release her grip. Shoving you over the desk, she had you right where she wanted you in the first place; bent over and tied. “What, you thought I was going to treat you?”, she laughs. You stutter, words being unable to properly form. “Nothing happened! You were there the whole time! Why am I being punished for your jealousy issues?”, you yell out as she begins to scratch your back deeply. Her nails dig into your skin, fire spreading everywhere you touch. Wailing and twitching in her grasp, you hear her from behind. “Stupid girl. So disappointing when you act out against me”, she taps on the handcuffs. “Are you forgetting who protects you? I can harm you instead if you want baby, just ask”. She pauses, waiting for your reply. Nothing.

She smiles. You can feel the cockiness being emitted without even seeing her. Instead, you intently stare at the table, wishing you were in bed right now instead of feeling the humiliation of your girlfriend lifting up your skirt to check your panties.

The cold table was a harsh polarity to your pussy; you hated how your pussy was throbbing faster than your heart. Vanessa hummed from behind you, clearly amused and proud of you. Leaning over you, the shape of her breasts being felt against your back despite her clothing, she whispers a soft “I love how much of a whore you are”, before standing back up and softly grinding her front against your bare ass. You widen your eyes as you feel something hard press against you. You love how hot and cold Vanessa can be. No matter how rough and angry she can get, she can never resist treating you first.

The sound of her unzipping her pants was as close as you were ever going to get to hearing church bells. Hell, even angels singing couldn’t replicate the sound of her strap slapping your pussy. Shutting your eyes, your brace yourself against the table, moaning as her cock dipped into your soft entrance.

“You think you deserve this?”, she asks, moving your hair back with her hands, a gesture she couldn’t help doing. Not when she knew you did nothing wrong.

You nod desperately, grinding your ass back into her strap, your pussies walls clenching around nothing in a desperate attempt for friction.

Vanessa stayed silent as she plunged her cock into your pussy. You, however, most definitely did not. Your screams filled the quaint neighbourhood as she thrusted into you at a brutal pace that didn’t account for your lack of adjustment. Your hands gripped anything on the table in sight, your body becoming simultaneously needy and overstimulated. “P-please Vanessa slow- oh FUCK yes-”, you cry out, conflicted with the pain.

She rakes her hands over your ass, switching between slapping your reddened cheeks and clawing at your lower back. Hearing her deep, ragged breaths, you knew she was close; the strap hit her clit at every thrust, making her let out lowly strained moans. “Van-”, you roll your eyes back, your vision turning white. She was hitting your gummy walls so right that it felt insane. Your arousal was streaming down the table and her legs, which Vanessa acknowledged by letting out a snort.

“Need to come, baby?”, she hummed. You whine, grinding back. You needed this release so badly; anything Vanessa had told you had already been forgiven.

“V- nessa I need to.. Please”, you bite your lip and squint your eyes, begging yourself to not release before she allowed you to do so. You couldn’t risk more punishment. She sighed as if thinking about it. She sped up the pace, pounding the strap in a way that made it ten times more pleasurable for her as it did for you.

As your fingers grabbed at the table, she let out the smallest whimper that made you go feral. You pleaded, over and over again, to come. You felt extremely betrayed and turned on as Vanessa slumped forward, her chest heaving from cumming quietly. “Oh y/n”, she moaned, “Cum now baby”, she snaked her arm around your waist to bring your ass up even higher as you came with a loud cry.

You let go of the table, your body now going limp. “Vanessa”, you sigh, unable to move. Despite your comfortable position, consisting of you flopping across the table and Vanessa holding you loosely with her strap still half inside of you, she pulls out and forcefully slips you over way too soon for your brain. The pleasure was turning into pain again, and you hiss as your ass makes contact with the table, the marks making it unbearable.

“Don’t think this is over”, she murmurs as you pull her closer.

You look at her, confused.

“It’s only 1 am. If you think I’m done with you, you are sorely mistaken”

[darylas]

Chapter 2 - It’s Only a Paper Moon

John “Bucky” Egan x singer!fem!reader previous ♫ next ♫ ao3

Bucky is realizing that your performance doesn't end when you leave the stage, but he's determined to see what lies under the mask.

1.8k words

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Bucky being a little shit

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

You stood outside the officers' club, slouching against the back wall and using one hand to massage your cheeks. Before joining the American Red Cross and moving overseas, you’d never realized just how sore one’s face could get from smiling all day long. How tired one could become of the sound of their own false laughter. Never appreciated just how valuable a quiet moment alone could really be. 

Your days at Thorpe Abbotts had quickly grown monotonous, though you supposed that rehearsing and performing with the band multiple days a week made your experience a bit more unique than the other volunteers’. 

For you, the most difficult part of the job was not waking up before dawn to prepare doughnuts and coffee for the airmen, though you were counting down the days until your next morning off.

It also wasn’t the fact that you and your fellow ARC girls were nothing less than amateur psychiatrists, offering a comforting and listening ear to soldiers who were fresh out of combat to process their violent experiences. You felt that you had become quite adept at keeping your attitude from being too bright, thus seeming uncaring, or too sympathetic, which might evoke even darker emotions from the soldier. Thanks to these revealing conversations, you came to know a lot more than you anticipated about the horrors of war.

It certainly wasn’t performing in front of large crowds; you had always been good at that. 

No, for you the most draining aspect of your job was moments like this one, the moments between musical numbers. Making small talk, smiling at all times, laughing at the same joke you’d already been told at least thirty times as if it were the funniest thing you’d ever heard. Truthfully, it felt like a much grander performance than anything you’d ever done on stage. Ever since you were a child, you cherished your alone time and preferred genuine, intellectual conversation to what felt like pointless small talk. At this point, the mask you wore during these moments seemed to be plastered to your face at all times. You would never reveal this to the men, of course. This was why you were here, to give these brave men a piece of home and to raise morale. 

Of course, while ARC girls were expected to attend parties and socialize, they were not required to accept every invitation. While most of the men were harmless and polite, there were some who you would prefer to avoid interaction with altogether. Major Egan being one of them. 

You had always been one to trust your instincts about a person, and something about the major kept you at a distance. For one, he was full of himself, or at least he seemed to be. You supposed that was not uncommon in young officers with higher ranks. For another thing, word spread among the women fast enough for you to know that a dance with John Egan often didn’t end once the music stopped. You had no interest in being anyone’s conquest of the month. 

Right now, you knew you had a few minutes before your next number. You had been able to sneak out for a moment with the rather poor excuse of needing some fresh air to boost your lung volume and vocal control. You took out your sad little lighter and a cigarette from one of the packs of four rationed to each soldier. This pack was gifted to you by a young private who said he didn’t smoke. Fresh air, indeed. 

You flipped open the lid and thumbed the wheel once, twice, three times with no flame. You kept trying, but the damn thing still wouldn’t light. “Oh for crying out loud, you goddamn son of a b-”

“Need a light?”

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky watched you transform before his eyes. Your posture went from slouched to straight-backed; your expression from one of annoyance and frustration to unnervingly neutral. You could certainly teach a thing or two about standing at attention to many of the airmen under his command. He had to stop himself from saying “At ease, soldier.” While it was impressive, it was not the reception he had been hoping for. 

“Major Egan,” you said. “I’m sorry, I thought I was alone out here.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he replied, pulling his Zippo out of his pocket. “And you can call me Bucky.” He ignited the lighter. 

You glanced at the flame and then back at him gratefully before lighting your cigarette. “Thank you for the light, but if you don’t mind I would prefer to continue addressing you professionally.” 

“Oh, well in that case, you can call me John. Mind if I have a smoke with you?” he asked, already taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth. 

Bucky noticed a slight pause before you replied, “Of course not, but wouldn’t you rather join everyone else in the club? From what I gather, you’re often the life of the party.” You looked toward the door. 

Bucky grinned. “I don’t know about that. Since you started singing here, I’d say you’ve earned that title yourself.” He leaned against the wall next to you, though you were now standing straight. “‘Sides, I see too much of those guys as it is. Trust me, you’re much better company.” He winked. 

You exhaled a cloud of smoke and said “You’re too kind,” then gave him a close-mouthed smile. You looked away and tapped your foot absent-mindedly to the muted sound of the lively music coming from inside. Bucky took a drag of his own cigarette. You remained quiet, the tapping of your foot on the gravel and the muted jazz tune being the only sounds for several seconds. Bucky frowned. Every other Red Cross girl he interacted with made small talk, asking him questions about his home town, listening excitedly as he talked about baseball. Hell, you had more to say to your dead lighter than you did to him. 

It appeared that flattery was not the key to unlocking your clearly well-protected personality. It didn’t convince you to dance with him the other night, and it certainly wasn’t working now. He scoffed to himself. Buck would smirk and say that he should’ve asked Bubbles for advice before making another attempt with you. 

He could give up. Accept the fact that you clearly didn’t like him, go inside, and have a drink with the boys. 

Or he could try something else. Something Buck would call him a loony for even thinking.

Looking straight ahead, he said, “Don’t, uh, don’t they interview you Red Cross girls? Before you can come overseas? I thought the ones that got sent over here had to have killer personalities or somethin’.” He glanced toward you while taking another drag. 

Your brow furrowed and you turned your head toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

There you are.

“Aww, you don’t gotta beg me, sweetheart. It’s okay, I get that not everybody is cut out for this.” He gestured with the hand holding his cigarette. “I just find it odd that you made the cut. I was under the impression that the competition to get this position was pretty fierce, but maybe there are fewer girls gunnin’ for it than I thought.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, keeping a serious expression on his face.

You narrowed your eyes and slightly cocked your head to the side. “I expect you to apologize for that, Major.” 

Bucky nodded quickly and tossed his cigarette on the ground before crushing the butt beneath his heel. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry about that.” He leaned against the wall once again, this time facing you. “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. You do seem a little tired.” He looked at you sympathetically, then glanced down to watch you bite your bottom lip. Miraculously, he was able to tear his gaze away to look you in the eyes again, not wanting to miss your reaction.

After a few more seconds of tense silence, you looked away and disposed of your cigarette. “Thank you again for the light. I’m going inside.” You walked toward the door. 

What the hell was that?

He must have inadvertently spoken the question aloud, because you abruptly turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. He started to apologize for cursing at you, but instead he said, “You’re not gonna say anything? Not a ‘how dare you?’ Not gonna call me a goddamn son of a bitch? Or do you just save that fire for your lighter?” You continued to watch him silently. “I guess you also save all the laughs and dances for every other guy here.” He pointed hard with both index fingers to his chest. “But me? Oh, lucky me, I get nothin’.” He stopped talking and looked at you with anticipation, both of his brows raised.

You finally shrugged and said, “I suppose I’m just too tired,” then started again for the door. Bucky forced himself to unclench his jaw and pry his feet from their current spot. He hurried to beat you to the door and hold it open for you. 

You muttered a quiet “thank you” as you walked through, but before you could get far into the crowded room, Bucky was once again by your side. 

“You know, I got a theory,” he said, his voice a little brighter than it had been just moments ago.

Whether you had meant for him to or not, he heard you let out a huff from your nose. “Oh, please,” you said under your breath.

“I told you, you don’t have to beg me, sweetheart.” He continued. “I think you know that if you dance with me, you’ll realize I’m not such a bad guy,” he said, leaning in quite close to you but giving you enough space to back away. You didn’t. “I think you’re scared you’ll like it.” 

You didn’t blush or move away. Instead, you maintained eye contact as the band began playing It’s Only a Paper Moon. You responded with that polite, cryptic smile that was beginning to drive him nuts, and said softly, “I guess we’ll never know.” 

You didn’t wait for him to reply before making your way toward the microphone. The crowd cheered eagerly as they saw you approach. You beamed at the crowd and began to sing. 

Say it’s only a paper moon

Sailing over a cardboard sea

You motioned to the crowd to sing along with you for the next line, a silent command that everyone except Bucky obeyed wholeheartedly. For once, he was the only person in the room not singing. 

But it wouldn’t be make-believe

If you believed in me

As the band played a brief interlude, you said into the microphone, “Wow, you all sound fabulous. I’m not sure why they’ve got me up here. Heck, they aren’t even paying me.” The crowd laughed and remained enraptured with your performance. As burnt up as he was feeling, Bucky couldn’t help hanging onto every note. As he watched you sing and smile and joke, he had one thought run continuously through his mind.

Just who the hell is this woman?

A/N: This one's for my fellow masking introverts. Yeah so Bucky decided to use kindergarten tactics on reader. Next chapter, he pushes her off the swings. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 - 𝟐

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: After Eddie drives you home, he keeps his promise to get the books you recommended from the library and also visits you at work.

Part 1

Eddie didn't believe in fate, destiny or any of that shit but he was pretty sure it was something like that that had made him end up locked in the library with you, of all people at the school.

You were the only person who ever interested Eddie enough to make him look up when you entered the cafeteria, you were one of the few people who probably never gave him an offensive comment in the whole school and you even saved his poor chimera from the trash bin.

When Eddie had noticed that he was locked in the library, he had initially thought it was a stupid prank but when he realized that he was not only he supposed that Miss Cooper had just assumed that everyone had gone away and closed the library.

And of all the people who could have been there at that moment it was you. Eddie didn't know whether to laugh or smash his head against the wall.

Initially, he'd thought that you'd get mad at him, yell at him that it was his fault (for some reason he didn't even know) or you would have been scared to know you were locked in there with him.

Instead you were nice to him. And Eddie had found himself loving the sound of your laughter echoing through the library so much that he wished he could record it and listen to it whenever he wanted.

Eddie had thought that when you'd given him the drawing you had saved from the trash, he could kiss you instantly, but you'd probably find that weird.

He started the engine of his van while you sat next to him in the front seat, brushing a few strands of wet hair from your forehead.

Eddie could still almost feel the ghost of your hand on his back, even though it wasn't there anymore.

"I can't believe it." You said, your voice slightly louder than usual to make him hear what you were saying despite the incessant rain pounding on the van.

"Yeah, I mean... you pushed Jason and you-"

"I'm not talking about that, Eddie. We forgot the books!"

He chuckled. "You just yelled at your friends and you are worrying about some books?"

"We left Carrie there!"

Eddie really laughed this time, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, not hiding his smile. "Tomorrow I'm going back to the library and I'll get all the books you recommended, okay?"

"Okay, be careful not to get locked in again."

"Oh wow, someone's being a little too sassy here. You know you've been stuck there too, right?" His gaze kept moving from the road in front of him to you, a smirk was on his lips.

"Oh, I bet you liked it!"

"Staying there with you all that time? Let's just say that of all the people who might have been there when the library closed, you're not one of the worst."

"Well, you, on the other hand, are very fun to hang out with." It was obvious you weren't lying or joking anymore and that made Eddie speechless for a moment.

Your tone was more serious but still kind as you kept talking, "I'm glad it was you."

The grip of his hands on the wheel suddenly tightened, he wasn't used to speaking openly about his feelings and it was so normal for him to be prepared for rejection and people looking down on him that he found himself unable to respond immediately.

"I'm glad it was you too." He didn't move his gaze from the road in front of him this time but he swore he felt you smile.

Maybe he had been completely gone for you for some time and didn't even realize it.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you've been driving empty for about ten minutes."

"Shit, where- where do you live?"

"Why didn't you ask me before?" You laughed.

"Because you distracted me! You talk a lot, you know?"

You laughed again and shook your head slightly, Eddie realized he loved making you smile. "You know the new record store that opened like two weeks ago? I basically live in front of it, on the other side of the road."

Eddie nodded. "Have you already been there? They say it's pretty cool."

"Yeah but you know who's even cooler? The girl who works there almost every afternoon. I think she's the one who attracts all those customers."

Eddie turned his head in your direction, a curious expression in his eyes. "Do you...?"

"Yeah" You admitted with a laugh. "I work there. You should pass by sometime. I could use some company."

"Do you want my company or my money?" He joked.

"Mh... both?"

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"No but really, my days are filled with boredom and little girls buying Dolly Parton. You should come by and say hi sometime."

"Mh. Maybe."

"I don't like maybes. When I say maybe I usually mean no so-"

"I'll come say hi, Y/N. I swear on my honor. I'll come." He chuckled placing a hand on his chest, where his heart was.

"Okay, fine." You smiled as Eddie parked the van at the side of a long road illuminated by many street lamps that reflected their light on the puddles on the ground.

"I live right there." You tapped your finger on the window, poiting to your house. "Thank you for the ride."

"It's okay." He said as you got out of the van.

"Well, see you soon. Unless you'll pretend you don't know me when we go back to school." He rolled down the window, talking to you through it.

You stared at him for a moment, as if amazed by what he had just said. "How could I?"

Eddie couldn't help but smile as he watched you walk up to the front door.

He never thought that being locked in the school library with someone could change his life.

The next day, the sun returned to shine on Hawkings as if the rain of the day before had never existed and you came back to school with the hope to see Eddie again.

"You don't understand." You shook your head as you grabbed a book from your locker before meeting Jess's gaze again.

You had been at school for about ten minutes and Jess and Debby didn't waste a second to cover you with questions and reproaches about what had happened the day before. As if it was their right to know.

"No, the only one who doesn't understand here is you. You had been locked in the library with him and then he even gave you a ride home. The whole thing is jusy so fucking creepy."

"You don't even know him! He could have had bad intentions or hurt you." Debby added with a troubled expression painted on her face.

"Well, I certainly know him better than you two and I can assure you he's nothing like you ever thought of him."

"But he's-"

"Stop it, Jess. Eddie treated me better during the three hours ee spent together than Beck treated you in four months."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but when she realized she had no idea what to say, she slowly closed her lips again.

"Trust me. He's kind and funny and-" You suddenly remembered something, "and he has to get some books from the library or I'll get very mad with him." You added with a little smile forming on your lips.

You didn't know if it was because the idea that Eddie absolutely had to read the books you'd recommended made you laugh or if it was simply the thought of Eddie that made you smile.

"I gotta go!" You yelled at the girls you left in the hallway behind you on your way to the library.

Classes had yet to start and the hallways were already full of students and you found yourself looking for a certain metalhead with your gaze without even realizing it. Most of the time he was late to class so it wouldn't be unusual for him to still be chatting with the Hellfire club in the parking lot or smoking the first joint of the day in the woods near the school.

"Good morning Miss Cooper!" You greeted the lady as you entered the library, "I would suggest you to clearly announce when you close or you risk locking someone inside."

"Oh dear, did something happen?"

"Nah, nothing to worry about." You smiled, looking across her desk for the stack of books you'd left there the day before. "Do you know by any chance what happened to the books that were up here?"

"I was about to put them back in their places, thinking someone had forgotten them or changed their mind, but that weird guy with crazy hair who always wears black came to get them."

Oh. So Eddie kept his promise.

"Okay. Well, thank you so much. Have a good day." You told the lady as she saw you leave with a slight confused expression on her face.

Eddie showed up three minutes late for class, nothing that could really get him in trouble or get him a detention, and he sat down at an empty desk just a few feet from yours.

"You took the books." You whispered and he lifted his head in your direction with a slight smile on his lips as soon as he heard your voice.

"You keep doubting my honesty. I promised." He whispered back as the teacher's voice just became more of a background to your conversation with Eddie.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't think you were actually going to do that." You laughed.

"Well, I-"

"Mr. Munson!" The teacher interrupted your chat, "it's the hundredth time I've told you not to disturb the-"

"It's my fault." You said before he could continue, "I'm sorry, it's my fault."

The teacher lingered for a moment, glancing from you to Eddie and back again as if it weren't possible that for once, Eddie Munson wasn't the one doing something he shouldn't be doing.

"Don't let that happen again." He said finally, before starting the explanation again.

Eddie looked at you for a moment like he wouldn't in a million years expect someone to defend him in front of a teacher without a second thought. Maybe because no one had ever done that and it had always been easy to blame him even when it wasn't his fault and the teachers had always believed it.

"What?" You whispered again, almost without even realizing you were breaking the rules again.

"Nothing." He smiled softly, his big brown eyes catching the light filtering through the classroom windows letting you notice the gold hues in them were still on you, "nothing, really."

You just smiled back.

Like every late afternoon you were at the record store. You liked working there even if you told Eddie it was boring (maybe you did it just to get him to come there).

You liked trying to guess what kind of music each customer would buy as soon as they set foot in the shop, you liked choosing the songs to play in the background and you liked giving advice when someone was undecided or had to make a gift.

You loved how such different people came in there every day.

"Have a good day!" You said to a lady who seemed to be in her 60s, who had just bought some music from the 20s and 30s, as she left the shop, making bell on the door tinkle.

You saw through the glass wall how her shining smile suddenly disappeared as she ran into the group of boys about to enter.

You chuckled at the way she avoided them like the plague, quickly heading the other way they were coming in an almost comical way.

"Hey, am I that ugly? I think I just made that old lady run away." Eddie's familiar voice commented when he finally entered the store.

"I can assure you you're not." You laughed as the group got in the shop.

You saw the guy with short curly hair nudging his darker-skinned friend, muttering something you couldn't hear, and then chuckled afterwards, maybe because of what you just said.

You weren't sure if what was going on between you and Eddie was flirting or something like that, but you sure were honest: you'd always found Eddie pretty.

He smiled at you as he rested his elbows on the counter, in front of you.

"Hey stranger." You greeted him.

"You see? I kept my promise, again."

"Well, thanks. You also brought more customers, it means more money."

"Oh, right." He seemed to suddenly remember his friends "These three kind gentlemen are Gareth, Jeff and Grant." he pointed to the guys behind him "and my dear friends, this is Y/N, the fair lady I had the pleasure of being locked in the library with a few days ago."

You looked at the three boys, you'd seen them all in school before, you even had a few classes with some of them, and you'd always seen them sitting at the Hellfire table with Eddie and their other friends. They wore leather jackets, ripped jeans and T-shirts with the names of bands you knew except one: Corroded Coffin.

You weren't sure if it was a band name since you'd never heard it before but then again, you'd been working at the record store for less than a month and you definitely didn't know all the bands that existed in the world.

"Dude, don't pretend you haven't talked about her 24/7 for the last couple of days." Grant commented with a tiny smirk on his lips.

Eddie scoffed. "That's not true, don't listen to them. We're honestly not even that close of friends, I hardly know them." Eddie hurried to reply, a tinge of red rising on his cheeks.

"Hey! That's not true!" Jeff hit his shoulder and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Look, do you only have Cyndi Lauper here or…” Gareth started asking before you cut him off.

"Metal is on your left."

The three boys immediately headed towards the area you had indicated to them, you thought you heard a whispered "I like her" from one of them but you weren't sure.

"Your friends are cool." You said to Eddie, still leaning on the counter. There seemed to be something there that interested him more than music.

"Don't say it too loud or they'll get to their heads."

You chuckled.

"You don't buy anything?" You asked then, noting that he seemed to have no intention of joining his friends.

"Nah, not this time. They will surely find something. Maybe next time."

"There will be a next time?"

"Of course. You were absolutely right. The girl who works in this new record store is really pretty."

"Oh, I never said she's pretty, just cool."

"Then I say so. She is."

You laughed, shaking your head slightly. It was amazing how Eddie could say the silliest and most trivial things and it only made you like him more.

"Well... who's Corroded Coffin?"

Eddie frowned. "How do you...We're so famous and nobody ever even told me?"

You laughed again. "It's written on your friend's shirt, dumbass."

"Oh! Oh, right. It's my band. I mean, our band." He pointed at first himself and then his friends who were checking some Black Sabbath records. "We have a band."

"Well, Eddie Munson, I gotta say you get more interesting every time I talk to you."

Eddie chuckled. "I swear we don't suck. Even though a lot of people think we do. We play at the Hideout sometimes. You should come, I think... I think you'd have fun."

"Okaaay... you want us to go away and leave you two alone?" Gareth cut you off before you could say you would happily go to see them play, placing two records and twenty bucks on the counter with a slight smile on his lips and you rolled your eyes before handing him the change.

"Well, thanks for stopping by guys, hope to see you again soon."

"Wait" Jeff threw up his hands as if to make sure no one moved. "He didn't ask you out?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Dude!" Gareth poked Eddie on the shoulder, "that's what we came here for! You had one thing to do!"

Eddie snorted, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "I hate you guys."

"You know, you can try now." You smiled before Eddie's gaze met yours again, big brown eyes staring at you hesitantly.

"Try what?"

"Asking me out."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Would you..."

"More confidence! Look her in the eye!" His friends cheered him on from behind and you chuckled at their almost better reaction than the cheerleaders at school.

"Wo...would you like to go out with me?"

"Don't stammer!" Grant exclaimed.

Eddie propped his elbows on the counter again, hiding his face with his hands. "Please just say yes."

You reached out to slowly remove his hands with yours, meeting again two big eyes this time surprised and curious by your kind reaction. "Yes, I'd like to go out with you."

A chorus of "yes!" and "finally!" came from Eddie's friends and you immediately burst out laughing. Your hands were now resting on the counter but still holding Eddie's in yours.

"Sorry," Gareth said, "it doesn't happen often. I mean Eddie having a date."

"What about Saturday when you finish your shift?" Eddie asked.

"Sounds good to me."

"Other customers are coming." Jeff commented.

"We'll better take him away from you right now or he will never leave." Gareth added grabbing Eddie by the arm, starting to drag him away.

"It was nice to meet you!" Grant yelled.

"You too, guys!"

"See you soon!" Eddie smiled at you before the store door closed behind him.

You didn't know if they were aware of the fact that you could see them through the glass even if they couldn't see you, but you liked the way Eddie basically jumped as he reached his van, talking to his friends about what had just happened with a Cheshire Cat smile painted on his face.

God, you already loved that sweet, weird boy and you hadn't had your first date with him yet.

(This won't be a series!)

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx

Stuck tags: @sinna2sinna @saramelaniemoon @nix-rose @dulltraviolence @eggo-segual @princess-eddie @eddiemunsonlover35 @lightmelikeamatch @renaissan-vvitch @madaboutjoe @seventhlevelofhell

[m-jelly]

Hello Jelly! I hope your December was fabulous!

I'm wondering what you think Levi's reaction to his young child calling him their superhero might be :) (bonus points for post war Levi)

thank you for being amazing!

Superhero

Levi x fem!reader

Canon world, post war, dad Levi, mum reader, fluff, being parents, married life, emotional Levi.

Levi spends some time with his daughter and is moved when she calls him a superhero.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

Lilly giggled as she sat on her father's lap and he wheeled his chair down the town path. It was a father-daughter outing while you were at home with your one-month-old son. Going out with her father was so much fun, but she did miss you and her brother Evan.

Levi came to a stop and watched a confrontation happening. He gave his daughter a hug and knew very well that he might have to get involved, but it would cause a lot of pain in his knee. Using his leg to stop people fighting and help people would likely result in three days of using the chair all day.

The fight was getting worse and Levi had to step in before a poor kid was going to get hurt. He lifted his daughter and sat her on his chair. "Wait there for daddy, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." She watched in awe as Levi limped over to the two men fighting with a small kid in the middle. "Wow!" Seeing her father scoop up the kid, before leaning on his bad leg and using his good one to kick the drunk abusive man shocked her. The man flew and smashed right through a wooden wall. "Daddy!"

Levi handed the kid over to his father before accepting gifts from the shop owner. The drunken man was a regular pest and it was likely he wouldn't be trouble again because Levi Ackerman stopped him. Once Levi had everything he returned to his daughter and handed her the gifts. He picked her up and sat with a groan in his chair.

Lilly gazed at her dad as he wheeled them out of town. "Daddy?"

Levi smiled at her. "Mm?"

"You kicked that man super hard!"

Levi blushed a little. "I did. You shouldn't do things like that, okay? It's dangerous." He moved his chair back to the house. "Daddy used to fight a lot when he was younger, but he shouldn't now."

Lilly hummed. "You did it to save people."

He gazed at his daughter. "Did your mummy tell you that?"

"Yes." She giggled when she remembered the fun stories about Levi you told, of course you'd tamed it for a little girl. "You're so cool, daddy."

"Thank you."

You hurried out of the house with a smile on your face. "Welcome home you two! How was your outing?"

Lilly slipped off Levi's lap. "Daddy kicked a guy super hard!"

You rushed over to Levi, knelt before him and checked his knee out. "Is your knee okay?"

Levi placed his hand on yours. "It'll be fine. How are you and Evan?"

"We're well. We missed you both."

Lilly stood next to you. "Daddy saved a kid."

You smiled at her. "Your daddy is amazing. He saved so many people from big scary monsters. He flew through the air. He was impressive to watch."

Lilly gasped. "Daddy is a superhero!"

Levi's eyes widened. "Super...I...I'm not..." He saw how much his daughter was grinning, how happy and excited she was. No matter how many dark feelings Levi had about his work in the past, he didn't want to beat himself up in front of his precious daughter. He wanted her to have confidence. "Yeah, that's right."

She bounced up and down. "So cool! My daddy is a superhero!"

You leaned up and kissed Levi. "My superhero too." You wiped his tears away. "Maybe this is what you needed to hear all along, an innocent person's view of you. You're more amazing than you think, Levi."

He whined a little. "This..." He smiled softly. "Thank you, both of you." He picked up Lilly and hugged her tightly. "I love you."

Lilly hugged Levi. "Love you daddy."

You stood up and winked. "Love you always, handsome." You walked inside and picked up your son, before returning to Levi. "This little man loves you too."

Levi smiled when he saw his baby boy. "I love him too."

Lilly giggled. "Daddy is a superhero to Evan too! Daddy is the best!"

[heartfullofleeches]

Here to once again advocate doll pilot reader this time with a clown performer mix. Quirky scientist reader who has the brains, but not the smarts when it comes to interacting with real people and partners with a tech company for the funds and equipment to make a functioning robot to get around town. The contract comes with the added deal of reader becoming a star on a show they've had in the works for a while about an android learning the ropes of life as a human - which in turn works in favor for reader and their poor social skills

Reader presents far more cheerful than they are in person most of the cast assume their robot to be advanced a.i. Their genuine confusion on basic human educate and them stuffing bagels in their mouth to take to their human self sells their clueless act well. A few might've developed a little obsession crush on the bot but alas it could never be... If only...

"Hey, can you pass me that charger?"

"Sure." Their co-star smiles as the android unstraps the bracelet from its arm and plugs the cord into an outlet on their wrist - hooking the charger up to the phone in their hand. It yawns without a breathe - rubbing at its eyes. So cute♡- Just where did they get the parts to make this bot.... what's that room on their screen?

"This? It's my bedroom. Needed to do some cleaning today but obviously I had work. Might do some while I'm sleep since my link we have is neurological."

It sure is.... wait- huh?

"Nobody ever tell you? Actually, only like... three people know so I don't blame you. I'm human just like you.. well, the me back home is. I have severe anxiety and not as chipper as I am on stage. Nice to meet ya - name's Y/n, but I'm sure you already knew that."

... ah.. that - definitely wasn't in the pamphlets.

In come the - innocent queries about the real you. Your bot is modeled off you - are you as cute as it? What's your full name? Address? Oops- looks like your charger disappeared. Filming took extra long today - might run out of battery before you get home. Maybe your kind, well meaning coworker can bring it to you?

crackpost under cut

Yan: I'm so happy to finally have you home, angel. Anything I can get you?

Human Reader: Just a glass of water, please-

Yan: anything for you dearest~

[Human Reader kicks off their shoe and takes the sleeping pill from their sock as their Yan returns]

Human Reader: Thank you- [swallows the pill and passes out - their robot kicking down the front door, smacking the shit outta their yan, and carring their human body back home. Yan, broke jaw and all, takes a picture of their sleeping angel carried away in their own arms]

Yan: worth it...

-

[Robot Reader picks up groceries after work covered up by a surgical mask and an oversized sweater. One of their fans sneaks up and tags magnet to their backside]

Yan fan: found you, dear~

Robot Reader: oh! Haha, ya got me! Would you like an autograph? Here- [wheels their cart into the fan and sprints off into the parking lot.]

-

Human Reader, watching Yan make out with their robot before their identity is revealed thinking noone is watching:

[cereusblue]

https://gofund.me/96bce824

Hi, all. So, I've had a day from hell and I'm too exhausted to re-explain on another platform. But here, I'll copy paste the story here. TLDR at the bottom. If you can't help, pass it on. Literally everything helps. Love you all.

Good day all, thank you for stopping your busy day to check my page.

Let me lay out the situation as best I can.

First off, some background for myself and my family. My fiancee and I only have(had) one functioning car between us when we took in a family member of his in an emergency CPS case. We are trying our hardest to take care of her and teach her how to be a person, but our schedules and only having one vehicle has made that a struggle. She has gotten a job just last week and is working hard to get on her feet. It's great and we are very proud of her! It's part time for the time being while she learns how to manage finances and how the world works.

However, since October things have started taking a turn for the worse. Between my fiancee and I, we both worked minimum wage and in October I bent over to put on a shoe and my back made a horrible crack noise. I went to the ER in immense pain and despite having insurance, I still got dumped with a hefty bill that to this day I am still trying to pay off. I have gone through physical therapy as requested by my doctor, since he didn't want to operate on someone of my age. However, it did nothing but agitate the problem. While I can now move around again, bending over and lifting anything past 15 pounds is strenuous. I'm in pain every single day and even sitting up is difficult most days. I can't stand up for long anymore before it becomes too much on my back. But things continue to happen, as they do. I was set to come back to see my surgeon this year but on Dec 29th in the last hour of the day, my job decided that an AI system could completely take over my job and laid me off. Getting unemployment as well as answers back from my previous work has been very difficult. My benefits were cut off with no chance to refill medications or see my surgeon. So, now my continued treatment to fix my back on top of my other health issues have all been put on pause. I've been working for almost two years now to get treatment and figure out what's wrong with my health, but I am now on a desperate search for a new job.

Which leads us to today. We are already strapped for money, and on a trip to an interview and my fiancee going to work, we got taken down a gravel road that looked deceptively fine. Driving across, the ice was far deeper than it appeared and it destroyed the grill, bumper, and wheel well (I believe that's what it's called) aka part of the frame that covers the front wheels broke and are hanging. That's not where it ends. So, I took the car to get it temporarily fixed so we could hopefully figure something out to get repairs done. The car got a temporary fix, and then I proceeded to take the car to pick up my fiancee from work. He and I began our drive back home, and as we were passing train tracks a doe jumped out into the road way too close to us. She only came into view as she appeared in the lights of the car, immediately getting bodied by the car. As you can see from the image, she destroyed the hood of the car and much more. I feel horrible for the poor thing and I hope she went quickly, noticing the fur and blood on the front bumper. We managed to get the car home, but the check engine light came on. This car is a Toyota prius. Anyone who knows anything about a prius knows they are basically tin cans. So, the worry is that the cooling system is busted now too. This will exponentially increase the amount we need to pay to repair the vehicle.

The worst part is, is that this is the only car we have to go to work and for me to go to interviews. I do have a car, but it's not in running condition right now. The poor thing is a 1999 and needs some parts replaced that we have not had the funds or availability to get a list of parts and have them replaced. The car also can't move anyway right now and would need towed. The prius is our only vehicle we have, and I don't have the funds to drop on fixing it. Insurance won't pay for it as far as we have been made aware by the body shop because of the type of insurance we have.

So, this is the current estimate we have to work with in regards to repairs. The entire front, hood, coolant system, and I know a few more pieces need replaced. The prius can run and be moved to a body shop at least, but paying for it will be a nightmare. If he can't get to work, we are in major trouble. My fiancee, his little sister, and I all rely on this car for work. While I'm still looking for work, I'm very limited because of my current physical state. We've spent a lot of money on my Healthcare already and every day are worried I'm going to reach for something and have my back crack again. While we are working on Medicaid, these things are proving a slow process. They also don't cover previous medical bills when I did have insurance. So, our only choice is to live off his income currently while I'm on a search for a new job every day. Our lives depend on this one car. Especially since we live out in the woods and work is 40 minutes away.

If you've read this far, I appreciate every single second of your time. Every single hand this gofundme goes through will be a huge help. If you can't help, that's okay, please don't stress your own financials if youre in a tough spot. If you can pass this along to anyone you can, that would be more than enough. Thank you again, and I wish you all better fortune this 2024.

For those who can't read the whole thing;

TLDR; Me and my family are already going through a lot of financial troubles with my health and being laid off, our only mode of transportation is severely damaged from an unmaintained roads massive pothole and hitting a deer in the same day. Three people rely on this one vehicle for all our jobs and interviews that are far from home. Donate if you can, if not, please share and thank you so very much.

Also including another picture here for you all to see. Thank you all again, I wish you better fortune this year.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have & To Hold: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Warning: explanation of DID -> mentions/implications of trauma

Series Masterlist

"Well that went well." Marc mumbles to himself as he drives back to his own apartment.

"Seems like she hates us," an English accent fills his head.

"She doesn't. She's just frustrated at this whole thing."

The accented voice scoffs, "Well yeah. Imagine hearing that not only your dad is dying but he's making you marry his right hand man who's a cold blooded killer."

Marc tightens his grip on the steering wheel, "I do what I have to so we can survive. You working at the museum was getting us nowhere."

"But we were living a normal life!"

"Look at us, Steven. Look at how far we've come! That's because of me!" He's huffing as he continues the drive home. He knows the things that he's doing isn't right, but he's only trying to keep them above water. Him and his system have struggled for too long. He knows Steven tried, but it wasn't enough.

The only person who knew about his condition was your father. Marc was fronting, beating down on some guy who owed your father money. He said something that triggered Marc, that truly hit him. Not physically, but emotionally. Mentally. He tried his best to not to let it get to him, but he couldn't. He was reminded of what happened to him...them. He was reminded of her. He couldn't shake it. He retreated and Steven fronted.

Your father and the rest of his men were confused as to why Marc was suddenly speaking in an English accent and seemed a bit distressed.

"The hell?" your father gestures for two men to take Marc's place and your father pulls Marc aside, "The fuck is wrong with you, Spector?"

"O-Oh, um, right, well. It seems Marc has, uh, hidden away."

"Hidden away? But you're right here." your father looked at him confused.

"No, no. Um, bollocks, how do I say this? Uh, we have DID, dissociative identity disorder. It seems Marc was distressed about something that poor fellow," he gestures over his shoulder to the guy getting beaten to a pulp, "had said. Shook him up, which means I come forward to protect Marc in a way. It happened due to traum-anyway," Steven shakes his head, "For the time being, Marc is out of commission and you have me."

Your father looked at him in shock, "How the hell have you managed to hide this from me? You've been working for me for years now."

"We're pretty good at managing it, but that bloke really hit a nerve."

Your father snorted, "Well, can you finish this job or..?"

"Oh no. Me, I'm a pacifist. Marc does all the," Steven lightly punched the air.

Your father pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fan-fucking-tastic." he let out a deep sigh, "Go back to the estate and wait for me there."

"Right. Sorry 'bout all this." Steven gave

He promptly got in a car and made his way back to the estate.

____________________________

Your father had requested your presence the next day. After a meeting with his lawyer, he gestured you in. Now you two are sitting on his couch, sipping a Jack and Coke.

"So how'd dinner go?" he asks you with a smirk.

You cock a brow at him, "Marc didn't tell you anything?"

He shrugs, "Just said that it went well."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "I wouldn't put it that way."

"Sunshine, did you give him a hard time?" he looks at you with a warning tone.

"No. Yes. Maybe?" You turn your body more towards him, "Dad, I was and still am a little upset about this whole thing! I don't get a choice here!"

He waves you off, "Honestly, more of a formality. It's not like I'm asking you two be in love and have kids. I just want to make sure you're both alright once I pass."

You scoff, "Marc doesn't need help, dad. He doesn't need anyone to care for him."

"Well it's nice to have a companion to support you when you're having a rough time," he sets his glass down on a nearby table, "Sunny, listen," he takes one of your hands in his, "I know you're a big girl, but I'm just worried something might happen once I'm gone. Whether it's another gang or just normal life struggles, the only person I can trust that will look after you is Marc. You don't have to love him. You two can have your own companions if that's what you want. But you two marrying each other ensures that you'll be okay."

Sure. Fine. Okay. You get it. Your dad loves you and cares about your safety, but-" But what if we divorce after you...you know?"

He pats your hand, "I have some things in place for that."

"Which are...?" you try to push him to explain but he shakes his head, "That won't be revealed until I'm dead."

You look at him deadpan, "You can't be serious."

He smirks at you, "Sunshine, I didn't get here by not taking things seriously. You know that." he stands and bends over to press a kiss to your head, "Marc will be arriving soon to take you to your charity meeting."

You look at him confused, "Why?"

"So you can get to know each other more," he waves at you, "Love you and enjoy the rest of your day."

You down the rest of your drink and stand from the couch, "Thanks. Love you too," you murmur as you collect your things and exit your dad's office.

[omgellendean]

Found a great thread on how social assistance denies dignity to recipients.

(copied it here in case it disappeared)

"I came from poverty and very deliberately avoided 'services' and organizations that could have assisted me. I did not apply for social housing. I lived in places that were definitely not up to code. I worked multiple jobs. Just to avoid being part of system for 'poor people.'

"When I became wheelchair user & alone, I was moved into social housing. The day I moved in almost broke me. I never cried about my dx, about my disability, not even about all my savings being gone or any of the rest. But moving becoming "a client" was the line.

"The only way I could breathe is I told myself - and anyone within earshot - that I would be working again and out of social housing in a year. That was 14 years ago.

"I see all these progressives wax poetic about the wonders of social housing and various programs "for the poor." But there is a price that comes with that "help" - we don't 'help' you unless we deem you "helpless."

"The programs in social housing assume incompetence. "Let us teach you how to budget. Let us teach you how to make a boiled egg." The air is thick with the smugness of "helping our lessers." And judgment.

"So I don't know anything about the people who built that home but I understand why it would feel like more of a home than a shelter or a "unit" in the "housing stock" for "the poor." I understand why that feels like dignity.

To become successful at being poor within the system you need to perform acts of gratitude for things you shouldn't have to. You need to self-flagellate. You need to show you are deferential. You need to prove your situation is shitty as it is.

If you fail to prove your situation is as extremely shitty as they require then they will make sure it becomes worse. If you are on benefits you are not even allowed to pay your own rent - the state decides to handle this for you - because again, assumed incompetence.

"I have been offered home care. I declined. At some point i won't be able to decline but home care can act like state surveillance. And it just takes one ableist aid to make a report 'concerned' about something like a coffee burn.

"I was forced to use power wheelchair not manual for years bc an OT saw me struggle first time I transferred onto the toilet in this apt - because the bathroom is inaccessible. Chair moved a bit, I didn't fall but that was enough to override my choice.

"In GF Strong there was another young woman and we both wanted to get rear-drive power wheelchair instead of mid-drive or front-wheel. GF staff strongly discouraged rear-wheel. She was pressured out of it and she kept rooting for me. When I surrendered she couldn't even look at me

"We knew they broke us. We knew in that moment we were 'tamed' - albeit temporarily, as I had a plan to get a wheelchair on my own. I just couldn't handle another conflict with staff, I was already on thin ice fighting not to be sent to a nursing home.

"The idea of having a home - where you are not a client - and there is no 'staff' deciding if you are poor enough - not "too disabled" to be unsafe - no judgment, no surrendering power, self-worth - sounds great to me.

"Incidentally this is also why the proponents of MAID marketing it to disabled poor people as ‘chance to assert your autonomy’ is so deeply and intentionally malicious. It’s a fake autonomy injected into people state deprives of real autonomy.

"Changed who can reply to NO ONE because I really do not want to read about how "these people" should be given a job. These are some of the good ones. Oh yeah, these poor people impressed you. Literally also not the point of the thread. But why start listening to poor people now.

"Will probably delete the thread and also possibly my account.

"OK turns out I want to say a few more things before I decide if I'm leaving this site for good. YOU may be amazed that some poor people did this. I - an actual poor person who lives around poor people - am very much NOT. And the way you are fixating on this like they cured cancer

"Is just the progressive version of othering us. I'm not amazed. Because I know poor people. So no, not amazed at all. That was not the point of my thread. Not even a tiny, little bit. Stop turning these people into some sort of circus freak version of poor people.

"Stop exceptionalizing them. Stop being shocked. Or at least stop fucking doing those things in a poor person's mentions. OMFG I'm here talking about dignity being stripped form us and you want to turn them into your poster child for the sustainability or whatever."

[untitled-writer-013]

Love Triangle (Renfield x Reader)

Yandere!Renfield x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Teddy Lobo

warning(s): yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, threats with a weapon, mentions of eating bugs (if you watched Renfield, you know).

Renfield loved his darling more than anything, which is why it pained him to be away from her. But he couldn’t risk Dracula finding out about her, not before he escaped out of his master’s grasp. He couldn’t allow him to hurt another person he cared about. He let out a sigh as he dragged the body through the hospital, another victim for his master to feast on. He was doing his best to be on his master’s good side, wanting to take his darling out to dinner. He set the body down in front of his master, bowing his head as his master fed on the blood of the man he had killed.

Once dismissed, Renfield headed out, a smile on his face as he made his way to (Y/n)’s home. His smile, however, faltered once he spotted Teddy’s car. He watched as Teddy exited (Y/n)’s apartment, a glare on his darling’s face while Teddy seemed to be pleading with her. 

“Come on baby, it’s just one dinner!” Teddy begged, being met with rejection from his darling. He frowned, getting into his car before he slammed his hands against the wheel, frustrated that he couldn’t get his darling to go out with him. She disapproved of his lifestyle, but he couldn’t help it. He was practically born into it, after all. He rammed his foot down on the gas, speeding out of the parking lot as he planned on how he would woo (Y/n).

Renfield waited until Teddy was out of sight before heading to (Y/n)’s apartment, making sure the flowers in his hands looked their best before he gently knocked. His darling opened the door, ready to hurl insults until she noticed it was him, her face instantly softening.

“Renfield, it’s just you. I’m sorry, I was just..dealing with someone. Come on in.” (Y/n) stated, moving aside as Renfield made his way into her apartment.

“Well, I just wanted to bring you some flowers, and I was hoping you’d come to dinner with me.” Renfield stated, a gentle smile on his face as he handed his darling the flowers, watching as she let out a hum.

“Aww. Renfield, you're so sweet. These are beautiful!” (Y/n) exclaimed, smiling as she smelled the flowers he had given her.

“Of course, only the best for you.” Renfield stated, muttering the last part under his breath.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, are you free tonight?” (Y/n) asked, having nothing better to do, and she’d never turn a man like Renfield down.

“Oh! Um, yes, I’m free tonight! I’ll see you at Café du Monde at seven?” Renfield asked, earning a nod from his darling.

“That sounds perfect, Renfield.” (Y/n) stated, smiling as she carefully set the flowers down into a vase, making sure to leave some water for them as she set them in some sunlight. 

Later, Renfield had made his way to the café, patiently waiting for his darling to show up. But as the time passed, his excitement died with it. His darling would never stand him up, so he wondered what was keeping her from their date.

He stood, deciding to stalk over to her apartment, noticing she wasn’t there either. In fact, it looked like it had been broken into, noticing the broken pieces of glass, the flowers he had gotten her having been knocked onto the floor. He picked up on multiple scents,but two stood out. One being his darling’s, and the other..

“Teddy Lobo.” Renfield stated, a growl escaping him as he followed the scents, now on a mission to rescue his poor darling from that monster.

“Now darling, there’s no need to be upset. Just tell me you’ll be mine, and everything will be alright!” Teddy exclaimed, a huge grin on his face as he held his darling’s face carefully with one hand, the other holding a gun to her head. 

Renfield burst through the door, making Teddy jump off of (Y/n) out of surprise, aiming his gun at Renfield. 

“And who the fuck are you!?” Teddy asked, a glare on his face as he looked up at the man.

“My name is Robert Montague Renfield. And you have my darling.” Renfield growled, quickly eating a bug before he tackled Teddy, practically breaking the gun with his hand, turning and beating Teddy with the gun. Teddy let out a yell, kicking Renfield off of him before he rolled out from under him. He picked up a chair, slamming it down onto Renfield, making him fall to the floor as he let out a grunt. The two men fought, Renfield landing more hits than Teddy, but neither were willing to let the other claim their darling for themselves.

Soon, the fight ended, Renfield having finally torn Teddy apart as (Y/n) let out a sob, traumatized by what she had just witnessed. She had no idea who the man in front of her was anymore, having known Renfield only as the sweet, caring guy she met at Mulate’s. She broke down into tears as Renfield walked over to her, a loving smile on his face.

“Don’t worry my darling, you won’t need to worry about him anymore. Now then, let’s go home.” Renfield stated, her hands and legs still tied as he picked her up, carrying her to a home he had bought, deciding not to worry about Dracula. 

After all, he’d do anything to protect his darling (Y/n).

~fin~

author’s note: i finished watching Renfield, and when i looked to see if there were any Renfield x reader fics on Tumblr, i noticed there wasn’t a lot. so, i figured i’d answer everyone’s prayers for a Renfield x Reader x Teddy love triangle <33

[dizzyduck44]

How bad management is ruining the Triple Crown 👑👑👑

So Sunday saw two thirds of motorsports triple crown take place, the Monaco Grand Prix and the Indy 500.

There were highs. Charles LeClerc winning his home Grand Prix, McLaren’s epic Senna tribute livery, further proof that the survival cell of an F1 car and an Indycar are first rate, the passionate Indy crowd staying despite a 4 hour rain delay and the huge love Pato O Ward inspires in people.

However the lows are multiple and worrying. Both races leave a bit of a sour taste in the mouth and if we dont acknowledge it then how will we ever avoid it happening again?

Let’s start in Monaco on Saturday morning. An incident between Lando Norris and George Russell. Lando coming out of the dark tunnel into daylight at speed, finds a slow moving George on the racing line to the left meaning he has to swerve right from the line and slow down. He then turns left in front of George onto the racing line to turn into the tight left right right left chicane that he is now at. He has a bit of a sarcastic rant over team radio about others impeding and carries on. The stewards somehow interpreted that as Lando turned in on George in anger. That was the first warning the stewards were high on glue!

On to qualifying and during Q1 bits of advertising was coming off the walls and attaching itself to cars. When McLaren pulled a banner easily 6ft if not more from under Lando’s car, common sense would say, oh hang on this is dangerous, should we red flag this and check any banners hanging off? Of course they didn’t!!

By the end of qualifying despite the various incidents investigated of impeding and a driver receiving a three place grid drop for the same thing only a race before, the stewards decide to penalise no-one 🤦‍♀️ Anyone know the French for consistency?

Also those people trying to claim that impeding doesn’t count if the person qualifies out of the session let me explain. Impeding is an action not a consequence.

The real warning bells were going off that there had been some obvious gamesmanship between Carlos Sainz and Lando, with the former trying to compromise the later getting a decent quali lap in and . . . . silence. Not even a slap on the wrist.

But they did somehow find time to disqualify both Haas cars 😬

So along comes Sunday and less than a minute into the race Sergio Perez car has no front wheels, the Haas cars have both been planted into the walls, Carlos is sat at Casino with a puncture having driven into Oscar Piastri at Sant Devote and Esteban Ocon’s car has been been airborne, damaging both Alpines. By the time the red flag comes out the front 3 or 4 are over half way round the track, BUT poor Zhou Ghanyu is stuck not having made it to the second corner as three spinning F1 cars and a sea of debris sit between him and the rest of the track. And this is where it gets ridiculous.

The stewards decide that as not everyone got past the first timing point before the red flag, because as previously mentioned Zhou had no hope, and despite the fact the front of the field has passed the second safety car line, we will restart the race as if none of that happened. In effect people like Lance Stroll who made up three places lose them and Carlos Saniz who was effectively out at turn 2, gets to start again from 3rd and will end up on the podium. The gamesmanship from yesterday continues, as after all it had gone unpunished and effectively destroyed any hope of the top 4 every changing places!

However at this point the stewards wake up and realise they are meant to be upholding the standards of F1 and decide to give Ocon a 10 second penalty, but as he damaged his car so badly he can’t continue they decide to make this a 5 place grid drop for the next race. Continuing with the approach of one big grand gesture rather than bother with the little stuff.

The big issue was the often contested rule of people being able to change tyres to any compound under a red flag, meant the top 5 competed the race without ever having to change tyres.

You got to the end of the Monaco Grand Prix feeling like someone was meant to have been protecting the integrity of that race and F1, but they were off having a liquid lunch on one of the yachts.

The fact the three car smash resulted in a photographer being hospitalised really highlights that priorities were definitely in the wrong place in the Côte d’Azur.

So we then we turn to the rain delayed Indy500. And nothing says pinnacle of motorsport like a road sweeper!

8 cautions meant this race felt like motorway road works where you have to shuffle past at a set speed for a few miles then you get a couple of minutes of speed and then back to shuffling. And guess what? This race didn’t get more than 30 seconds in before cars were out either!

By this point, for those of us who had watched both it felt like the day would never end. But at least it looked as though it would end with a popular first time winner . . . . but no.

I’m not sure of how much people outside of America are aware or how much people in the US are unaware of the optics outside.

The race was won by a team owned by the guy who owns the track they were racing on and effectively has control of the series the race forms part of.

And yes you remember correctly, Andretti really did ask Congress to write to F1 and Liberty Media this year as they felt F1 was breaking US competition laws. Yet they seem fine with this!

Here is the issue. Josef Newgarden and Team Penkse were disqualified from the first race of this season as they ran with an upgrade that teams had been testing for next season, that they claim they forgot to take off. It resulted in four members of Newgarden’s usual team being suspended internally. So you know what would not be a good look? To bring this up in your post race interview, or say you don’t care what people say about you in respect of it, or thank your suspended team members. Yeap, he went there, led with his whole chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if the head of the team’s PR department was later found in a Jack Daniels induced comma!

If there was a year where maybe it might have been better for Indycar if anyone but Team Penske won its most watched race, it was this one.

So motorsport Christmas Day as I saw Sunday called, ended with a sense that these two triple crown races feel they can make their own rules up as they go along. Consistency, integrity, perception be damned.

Maybe it’s time they stepped back and truly looked. The three races that make up the triple crown are considered the three hardest races to win. Only one driver has ever done it and two manufacturers/teams. Time to do away with the glamorous self congratulatory nature they seem to revel in and get back to being about the racing, like Le Mans still is!