#anyway. just need to get my shit enough together to leave the house by 3 so i can pick up this stuff for work

[phagodyke]

oh wow just saw flatmate messaged saying another friend passed smth on like oh okay. I didn't realise he went too u didn't say. in fact none of u said anything to me so that's great

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment anything and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[rafesangelita]

♡ everyone is lucky farmer’s!daughter!reader is in a jail cell when she finds out her favorite sheriff isn’t around because he’s on a date with another woman..

warnings: mentions of being groped in public, just a little bit of southern dialect, small town gossip, mentions of jj x reader, lots of comebacks and insults, jealousy, implied age gap, reader stays the night in jail, hitting, very slight physical altercation, reassurance, comfort (?), little bit of kissing, suggestive ending

a/n: read more of sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader here <3 i would say this particular situation takes place in the beginning stages of their complicated relationship lol. read how sheriff!rafe’s date went here!

wc: 1.5k

“what did she do this time?” sheriff thornton looked up from his desk, an amused smile playing on his lips as you glared at him from under your lashes. “she threw drinks over at keith’s son, ‘said he groped her and all hell broke loose.” your wrists ached as the metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your boots scuffing the concrete flooring before the sheriff behind you plopped you down in a chair. “she gave me a hard time and resisted arrest, so now she’s here.” you scoffed at his words, a bitter laugh emitting from your throat. “i gave you a hard time because you tried to apprehend me before the asshole that started it!”

both of them ignored you, leaving you to sit uncomfortably in the main office while bryan, the newest rookie in the department, got your paperwork together. “uhm— do you have anyone you could call? it looks like you’re going to stay the night in here..” he looked almost scared as he broke the news to you, his eyes blinking rapidly as you shot daggers at him from where you sat. “are you pulling my leg?” you narrowed your gaze, “there’s no way in hell i’m spending the night here.” you shook your head, hopping onto your feet. just then, topper came in and sat you back down.

“i’m already in the shit house with rafe for manhandling you last time, don’t make me do it again.” speaking of rafe.. “you’re not scaring anybody, topper.” you used his first name against him, catching him off guard. “where’s sheriff cameron, anyways? i’m sure he’d love to know that you haven’t fixed my skirt since i’ve gotten here. i think the new boy has already stolen a peek at my underwear.” bryan’s eyes widened at your words. “i haven’t, miss, i swear!” topper glanced over at him with irritation evident on his face. “she’s fuckin’ with you kid, jesus.”

dragging you up by your arm, topper lead you to the back where the holding cells were. “it’s a shame you’re wearing nearly nothing,” he shoved you inside, “it’s gets pretty cold in here.” you cursed under your breath when he finally uncuffed you, your fingers itching to punch him square in the mouth. he watched as you adjusted your denim mini skirt, his eyes trailing down your bare legs. “you’re a mystery, y’know.. ‘way too young to be acting up like this.” if you had a penny for every time someone brought up your age, you’d have enough money to leave this shitty town and never look back.

“and you’re just annoying.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest before sitting at the edge of the cold steel bed. you should’ve been used to the discomfort by now, considering you’re here at least once a month, but you still couldn’t help but shiver at the harsh contact. “i need to talk to sheriff cameron. i shouldn’t even be here.” topper walked out of the cell, locking it shut behind him. “yeah, well he’s not on duty tonight. my pal finally scored himself a date.” he laughed. you felt your stomach twist at his words. not a damn thing was funny. “what did you say?” your voice was barely above a whisper when you looked up at him and met his eyes.

“yeah,” he nodded, “me and the department decided we’d stitch him up with ms. belle, she teaches the children’s sunday school down at the church.” he winked. your leg was bouncing now, your chest heaving with anger as your eyes brimmed with tears. “who knows, maybe after tonight they’ll be the newlyweds of the town.” you looked down at your feet before topper could question anything, your nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. once you heard the heavy metal door slam shut, you covered your mouth with your hand as tight as you could and screamed.

rafe was so scared of what people would think of you two, he never showed you affection in public, let alone take you out on a proper date, yet here he was; willingly taking someone else. no matter how many times you told him you didn’t care about what anyone thought, he insisted that it was for your own good that no one saw you running around with a man who was much older than you were. the people of this town were far too judgmental to just accept something like what you and rafe had. figuring it was pointless to use your one free phone call, you settled into the hard surface before curling up and shivering yourself to sleep.

“y/n..” it was the next morning, and you were far from letting go of the information you found out last night. “y/n, you’re free to go.” your eyes were open as rafe patted your back lightly, his touch only fueling you with pent up anger. turning around, you shoved his hand away, your eyes bloodshot from crying so much. “don’t touch me again,” you hissed, “not ever.” rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you got up on sore legs. “i had to stay here all because you were too busy with someone else!” you spat, shoving him again except this time in his chest.

“hey, you stop that!” he said through gritted teeth, shooting up to his feet before backing you up against the cement wall. “i hate you!” you whispered, attempting to get out of his grip. your efforts were deemed useless of course, your strength being nothing compared to his. “no you don’t.” he pinned your wrists down by your sides. he hated when you said shit like that, then again he knew you had every right to feel the way you did. nothing about your shared arrangement was fair, especially for you. “i went on that date for the sake of getting everyone off of my back, alright? it didn’t mean a thing.”

you laughed, avoiding his heated gaze. “well surely it meant something, because you agreed. you agreed and got ready and dressed nicely for her. you fixed your hair, you shaved, you put on your best smelling cologne and you picked her up. don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean nothing when you put in that much effort.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he cupped your chin and forced you to look at him. “it didn’t mean a thing.” he repeated. you stared at him, reading his eyes as best as you could. “sure.” to say you were hurt would be an understatement.

“i mean it,” he started, “i did it for appearances. i’ve never been married, i don’t have any children. people talk around here, y/n, and just recently did i hear something about us both. people are catching onto your ‘get out of jail’ free card, and you could only imagine what their reasoning for that was.” he grimaced, recalling the disgusting words filtering the air of the diner where he drank his morning coffee. while the claims weren’t completely false, his said intentions couldn’t be more wrong. “rafe,” you glared at him, “i. don’t. care.” not wanting to rile you up any further, he let go of you before you could get the bright idea to knee him in his manhood.

“you know.. how do you think i feel when i have to see you around here kissing jj fuckin’ maybank, and i can’t do shit about it, huh? how do you think i feel when i see him have his hands all over you? you think i like that shit?” you rolled your eyes, about to step out of the open cell before he shut it closed. “why do you do that? why do you get joy out of pissing me off?” rafe caged you between his arms, his gun holster digging into your hip.

“first of all, i’m keeping up appearances just like you.” you stood up on your tippy toes, pecking his cheek before you placed your lips right next to his ear. “and secondly; you only act like you care about me when i’m all over someone else. it’s either that or i have to get into legal trouble just to get you to myself. so you try to imagine what that makes me feel like.” you pulled him close by the buckle of his belt, his large hands finding your hips as he towered over you. “do i really have to go to jail just to get a kiss?” rafe leaned down, his lips finally taking your own. he groaned at the taste of you, your cherry lipgloss still sticky with its sweetness.

you two stayed kissing like this until he grew rock solid in his pants, the buckle of his belt not being the only thing poking your tummy. “i don’t want you with any other women. i can’t take it.” rafe nodded, his bottom lip shining with your gloss. “you have my word, sweetheart. i’ll set aside time for us to be together, i promise.” his sheriff’s hat tipped to the side, revealing his buzzed scalp. “but if i see you with that maybank kid i’ll have to lock him up for good.” you smiled, your red nails raking down his buff arms. “yes, sir.” rafe cursed at the nickname as he glanced down at the digital watch on his wrist.

“i got about an hour to spare..” you hummed at his words, palming him through his pants.

“well what are we waiting for?”

[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

Older!Eddie photo edit by: @/eddiemunsons-missingnipple

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel the world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They’re like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from your grasp and into his arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sit on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returns with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You wish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I sh-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. You seemed like the bad boy type who fell for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

“You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—”

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit, made me feel stupid, and acted as if I needed him because he created me. Back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. But boy did it feel good to give him a piece of my mind. Wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson—”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She sings-songs the last statement.

“I can’t. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble, I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her or anyone. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should I anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that person anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak in coherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thoughtful letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now we could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about it.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ear. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I’ll let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just picked all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.”

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it, letting out a puff of smoke into the air then looking back down at you. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fully by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often mewls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

[mischievousmoony]

hello ! i saw that you were open for requests. could you do sick reader and james being the best bestfriend ever (and oblivious as hell) takes care of them? maybe they could be childhood friends so james doesn't realize that what he's doing in inherently romantic, like kissing reader's forehead to check their temp, giving his shoulder to them to lay on, sleeping in the same bed, and such.

AND even after reader is no longer sick, james still insist on spoon feeding them and acting like a helicopter mom.

- 🌱

what a lovely idea! thank you for the request <3 i love this because earlier this summer i had a nasty sinus infection for like 3 weeks :/ i wish i had a james potter then lol also i noticed you used they/them pronouns in ur req. im not sure if you wanted gn!reader, but i think it ended up being that way anyway. i didn't need to use pronouns, or even y/n, in this fic <3

𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.4k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, no use of y/n, no magic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was only an hour ago that you told James over the phone not to worry about you.

Now, he stands in your bedroom, having let himself into your flat with the spare key that you that keep at his parents' house for emergencies— which he uses very often, but hardly for emergencies.

"James," you complain in a nasally voice, "I'm going to get you sick."

He plants his hands on his hips and looks at you scrutinizingly. It reminds you of Euphemia when she would scold you and James as children, and truthfully, when she sometimes scolds you these days.

"Nonsense, my immune system is built like a tank."

"James," you whine further.

He ignores you as he approaches your bedside, frowning as he takes in your sickly appearance. He gently brushes away the sweat-drenched hair from your forehead.

"My poor thing," he comments before bending down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You don't feel terribly warm, but you look flushed," James' wrist swivels to press the back of his hand to your cheek, "Do you feel hot?"

"A- a little," you croak, knowing full well that a raging blush is the real culprit behind your reddening face.

James' frown deepens as he dives into his next area of concern, "Have you been eating? You hardly had anything in your fridge."

"I have enough peanut butter and jelly to get me through an apocalypse. Why were you in my fridge?"

"I had to put away the groceries."

Your eyebrows draw together, "What groceries!?"

"I bought you groceries," he says nonchalantly.

"Why would you buy me groceries!?"

James is suddenly sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, "It's not much. Mostly ingredients for the chicken soup I'm gonna make."

"Make? If you really must you could've just gotten a can of–"

"Eugh! I would never subject you to canned soup!"

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"That processed shit is just going to make you feel worse," he adds.

"Does Effie know she's created a monster?" you mumble to the ceiling.

James' chuckles, "Look, I'm already here, I've already bought the food. Just let me make you a nice soup and then I'll get out of here." James raises his hands in the air to indicate his surrender to compromise.

Your head hurts too much to continue an argument that you know you won't win, so you relent and wave him off to the kitchen.

Before James leaves you, "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything before I go?"

"I'm fine."

"You sound stuffy. Is there a lot of pressure? Do you like a hot or a cold compress?"

You wince as you imagine a cold compress, feeling like that would make your headache somehow feel sharper against your brain.

"Hot."

James smiles, happy that you're beginning to give into his care, and disappears from your sight.

He returns with a warm, damp cloth and a paper shopping bag stuffed under his arm. He starts unloading his haul onto your night table.

"I brought you the nice tissues, the ones with the lotion so that they don't irritate your nose. And are you taking medicine? I wasn't sure what your symptoms were or what you usually take so I got stuff for everything. I've got nasal sprays, decongestants, cough syrups— which I'm pretty sure you hate so I bought lozenges too."

You watch despairingly as he sets medicine after medicine down.

"I took paracetamol an hour ago," you inform him.

"That's it? You could at least use the nasal spray then. Here, let me–"

You place a hand over his that fiddles with the cap of the spray, "I've got it. Just go make your soup."

James looks up from the little white bottle, "Oh yeah, sure." But he hesitates before he goes, "You want a lozenge though?"

You yield to James' incessant efforts, figuring he would feel better if you let him do something for you. You hold out your hand to accept the lozenge but as soon as he sees you nod, he is already set on removing its waxy wrap and popping it in your mouth himself.

At last, he presses the warm, damp cloth gently over your closed eyes and retreats to your kitchen.

He reappears every so often to rewarm the cloth that's over your eyes, bring you cups of water or herbal tea, and make sure that you're still comfortable. He's offered to fluff your pillows five times.

The next time he enters your bedroom, he's finally carrying a bowl of steaming soup, one of your dishcloths a barrier between his hands and the hot porcelain.

You sit and hold out your hands to accept the bowl.

"Oh, it's far too hot for you to hold," James says, choosing to ignore the fact that he is doing just fine holding it himself.

He plants himself on the edge of your bed and starts blowing on a spoonful of the savory soup.

"You can't be serious," you mutter, sniffling.

"Just lean back and relax," James instructs, "let me take care of you."

James looks at you with the roundest, most doe-like eyes can can muster. Oh, those stupid big brown eyes— it's impossible to resist them.

You let James feed you what just might be the best soup you've ever tasted. Rich flavors dance on your tongue and you try not to let your eyes flutter closed in bliss, but the enjoyment is written across your face anyway. He refrains from teasing you, feeling too much pity for your being unwell to make any fun.

"Is this helping any?" James checks, blowing on another spoonful of broth.

You hum affirmatively, "It's really nice," you murmur, letting the warmth of the soup spread across your chest.

A prideful smile finds its way onto James' lips.

After he he scrapes the last bit of soup onto the spoon and brings it to your mouth, he places the empty bowl onto your night table. You realize that you still need to thank him and you share words of gratitude as you wring out your neck.

"You alright?"

"A bit stiff from being cooped up in bed," you roll out your shoulders.

"Well, you needed your rest," James says, studying you. "Here, scoot up."

You look at him curiously as he helps you scoot forward. When he starts settling in behind you, your eyes round.

"James!"

You've lost count of how many times you've uttered his name in scolding today. Your face flushes crimson and you count yourself lucky that he at least can't see it this time.

James shushes you, and your protests die in your throat when his hands apply a satisfying pressure to your neck.

He can't help but chuckle, nor can he help seek your approval, "Helping?"

"Uh-huh," you sigh, your eyes fluttering closed, and you feel James' body rumble with laughter against you.

The coming days play out similarly, and you've quickly ceased protesting against him. James attends to your every need and casually showers you in affection day after day.

He even insists on staying over some nights, which you do protest against, as he means to sleep on your couch which is not even long enough for him to lay flat. But you need not worry about that, because when night falls he ends up dozing off next to you in bed, where he intended to only stay until you fell asleep.

In the mornings, neither of you seem to mind waking up in each others arms.

Within a few days, your health improves, but this doesn't stop James from continuing to tend to you.

"I haven't run a fever in days!" you protest as James' lips still against your forehead for several seconds.

"You never know," James mumbles against your forehead before pulling away.

You huff as you meet his eyes on his retreat, "I'm not sick anymore, James."

"You still sniffle sometimes," he shrugs, turning to collect the empty bowl on your night table, which he fed you fresh stew out of for lunch this afternoon.

You chuckle at his antics, "It's just a lingering sniffle, it will probably clear up by tomorrow. Besides, I hardly need someone taking care of me for that."

James pulls his lips into a timid line, feeling quite sheepish. He hides his face as he turns to leave your room with the dirty dish.

He tsks as he formulates an excuse for himself, "Or it means that your illness is coming back for a second round. What kind of friend would I be if I don't make sure it's gone before I set you loose?"

James makes his way to the kitchen to wash your dishes, seemingly unaware that he might enjoy taking care of you a bit more than a friend would. Or maybe he’s simply embraced the comfort of being exactly where he wants to be.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it. 

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I’ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again,  selfish asshole that he was. 

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused. 

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more. 

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid. 

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt. 

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death. 

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in. 

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood. 

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale. 

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant. 

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on. 

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger. 

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him. 

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home. 

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding. 

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

[doki-doki-imagines]

author note: @kenruu told me this idea couldn't stay in the dms and I wrote it. I'm really sad thanks to uni so I can't really say if this is good or not. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Sae is a man with a precise objective, being the best midfielder in the world. “It’s simple” Sae thinks, he has the talent, works hard, it’s obvious he’ll be able to do it, and his mind never wavers. Football is his whole world, his only thought.

Then Sae met you, and it’s not like his world changed, he kept training and winning, just, this time, in a little chink of his brain you started to grow, filling that little space with info of you.

“They would like this” “If they saw this their reaction would be so cute” it doesn’t happen often to be thinking of you, but when it does a dumb smile plaster on his face.

Until it’s not a seldom thought, but it becomes relentless, a thrum he can’t brush away, and honestly? Sae wants to vomit.

Sae hates it, every time he imagines your face his chest roar, and he can hear the blood rushing to his face, every time he thinks he’s gonna pass out like a fool on the ground.

At first, it was something happening only inside the closed door of his mansion, maybe you sent him a cute video or just told him about your day and Sae was fine with this; he can look like a dumbass fool in his own house, but not on the field.

Sae can’t stop thinking of you, football isn’t his main objective anymore and for the first time he feels weak, football is his entire life, he is nothing without that; damn chink and damn your smile, your cute face your fucking entire being.

And it doesn’t matter how many times the red hair hits his head against the cement wall of the stadium, hits it hard enough to break skin and leave blood, he can’t get you out of his mind.

“Sae, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but if you want to play the next match you need to pull your shit together.” His coach told him after the umpteenth missed cross.

Breath gets stuck in his throat, Sae feels like he just got stabbed in the heart; he must put a stop to this situation.

“Get out!”

“I’m coming Sae, did something happen?”

This is why he is now in front of your house, 3 hours before the match starts with blood in his eyes, and fists tight on his sides.

“Tell me you hate me.” Your eyes widened, this looks serious.

“Sae you know it isn’t-“

“I’m in love with you and- Shut up! Don’t you dare open your mouth, let me finish-“ He has his teeth bared, index finger up pointing at you “And you have to reject me, I can’t go on like this.”

It’s like a cold shower, for sure not what you expected to hear on a normal Thursday afternoon.

You keep your lips sealed, you can see in his irises a little quiver, but he keeps looking at you straight in the eyes, his index now down, hand moving like he wants to throw something on the ground, maybe a thought he preferred to scrap instead of voicing it.

“Please, I need you to reject me” He shuts his eyes, and curl his nose in his typical disgusted expression, you notice small tears hanging on his reddish lashes now rolling down his cheeks, bottom lip wounded, red by the incessant bit of his canine.

You never saw him so desperate, so vulnerable, if you listened closely you could hear cracks every time he tried to speak up.

“Are you even listening to me” Sae's voice is harsh, as always, but there is no bite in his words. You take a step closer and constrain every muscle of your body to stay there, don’t move.

Crack.

“I need to concentrate on football, there is my entire life at risk here-“ A sigh breaks his phrase, and you feel your heart cracking “I-I don’t want to like you anymore” he brushes his little fringe back, arms moving around and feet moving back and forth without making a real step; he looks so nervous.

Crack.

Your breath itch, you feel your heart in your throat, not because of his words, but for how desperate he sounded; you don’t want to hear him like this ever again.

You get closer.

“Fuck, say something! Don’t just look at me with those dumb puppy-” You sprint, your hands reach his jaw, your fingertips are so soft and Sae's lips change into an ugly, wobbly grimace, eyebrows furrowed.

Your lips press on his, it’s fast and delicate, if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t have seen it. You pull away, but don’t put space between your bodies, lips a whisper away from each other.

“I’ll be the one-“ one of your hand leave his jaw to brush away some red hair that sticks on his cheek “to bring you to victory, let me work my magic” He is looking at you dumbfound, his irises wobbly.

You kiss him again, but this time you grip the back of his hair to push him into a more forceful kiss.

Crack. He feels like something in his heart break, everything hurt and his hands tingle so much they hurt. Something must have been broken.

Sae this time reciprocates with equal, if not even more, passion, his hands finally find peace on your back, low on your back, pushing your body impossibly close to his.

You break the kiss, breath heavy a string of saliva still connects your mouths, you are fast at removing it.

“Go and win that match.”

Sae nods, a dumb smile plaster on his face, but you can barely see it as he laid his head on your shoulder. He kisses you again, just a simple press of lips, and runs back towards the stadium, new life on his legs reinvigorated more than ever.

“Maybe loving you and football can coexist in my head” He thinks.

For sure that night your magic did work.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Wait for your love.

content warnings (for the whole series): mentions of drugs and alcohol, age gap, gaslighting, billy being TOXICCCCC, mental health issues,

↳ currently playing ;

Logical - 1977

0:56 ——•———————— 3:24

↺       <<          ll          >>     ⋮≡

Y/N: “You know, some people say you do stupid things when you’re in love.”

“I guess I was really in love with Billy, cause I couldn’t stop doing dumb things.” 

“I was getting high and drunk every night. Even before I went onstage.”

“After the band had their last show for the Numbers Tour, I was able to get a break. I wasn’t surrounded by all the temptation anymore. But that didn’t mean that I just stopped craving it.”

“This is when everything started falling apart for me. And the band in a way too.” 

“Daisy went on a haywire and ran off to Asia, no one knew at the time but that’s Daisy for you.”

“Anyways, me and Billy were now at home. Not on the road, not at gigs, not in hotel rooms, we were home.”

Billy: “It wasn’t weird being at home with her, I mean before we even started dating she was always around the house. But this was before she developed her addiction.”

Y/N: “We went to a ton of parties and clubs. It was the only thing that could satisfy my need for an adrenaline rush. Of course I still had gigs here and there, you know, talk shows, photoshoots and stuff like that, but partying was what filled my needs.”

Billy: “I would be there with her at every party…and normally we’d leave parties fighting.”

Karen: “It was always hard seeing them go to parties all happy and ‘in love’ with each other and then see Billy just leave her high and dry for another girl.”

“And then to see them leave fighting with each other, it was always the worst.”

Eddie: “Billy always treated her like shit. Always.”

“Every argument was basically the same, he would start it, she would say something back, he’d make some shit up or make her believe that she was crazy or the problem and then she’d be the one to apologize in the end.” 

“He’s the reason her addiction got so bad. He broke her.”

Y/N: “I was getting to my breaking point. But I depended on Billy for so much.” 

“At least I felt like I did. I felt like if I left him, it would be the worst thing in the world. I felt, indebted to him.”

“I always told myself that without my feature on Groupie Love, I wouldn’t have anything. I wouldn’t be anyone. I wouldn’t have made it alone. I would’ve never gotten my fame without Billy.”

“I felt like none of my achievements were mine. That— that nothing I did was mine. That it was all Billy.”

“And he always seemed to remind me of that.” 

Daisy: “I don’t know why she would ever think that she wouldn’t be anyone without Billy.” 

“I don’t know how many times she would come to me for advice, she would always come to me, practically crying because she thought she was doing something wrong. She was afraid she wasn’t enough. But she was the complete opposite.”

“She was fucking talented— still is. She had a gorgeous voice, a beautiful personality, and was just, the best person to be around.” 

“There was this one time before tour ended, we were in the studio together, it was super late and she just laid everything out on me.” 

“I felt horrible, she has one of the kindest hearts.”

“I don’t think Billy ever really appreciated that.” 

                🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

You were in the studio late at night, alone. You had felt like you needed a breather, especially after tonight’s fight with Billy. The studio at night was always peaceful, nothing else but you and your music. 

You were messing around with some keys on a keyboard when you heard a door open. Looking up from the piano you saw a figure by the door. 

“Hey kid, didn’t know you were here” 

You let out a little sigh of relief when you saw Daisy.

“Oh— Daisy it’s just you. You scared me a little.” 

She chuckles and sits on the ground next to you, “What are you working on?” 

“Nothing really, just messing around with some stuff” 

She nods and looks at your appearance, you look tired, exhausted even and it looked like you had been crying. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nod, “Yeah, I’m fine” 

Daisy had a way of looking at people, like she could see past all the layers you tried to hide behind. She frowns and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Come on, spill.” 

You felt knots in your stomach, the words lodged in your throat. You didn’t even know where to start. But Daisy was patient, watching you with those sharp, knowing eyes.

“It’s Billy,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What about Billy?” 

“I just… I don’t know. I feel like I’m not enough for him.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Not enough? You’re kidding, right?”

You shook your head as you fought back tears. “He’s always…looking at other girls. Always finding some reason to pick a fight or disappear for hours. And I keep wondering what I’m doing wrong. What they have that I don’t.”

Daisy frowns more, “You think it’s about you?”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, your voice cracking. “I mean, if I were prettier, or more exciting, or—”

“Stop.” Daisy’s tone was sharp, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Listen to me. Whatever Billy’s issues are, they’re his. They’re not about you, and they’re sure as hell not your fault.”

“But—”

“No ‘but,’” she said firmly, her green eyes blazing. “You could be the most perfect woman in the world, you already are, and he’d still find a way to screw it up. Because that’s what he does. You’re not the problem, Y/N. He is.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them settling in your chest like a weight. “Then why does it feel like I’m the one falling apart?”

Daisy’s expression softened, and she reached to take your hand. “Because you care,” 

“Too much, maybe. You’re trying to fix something that isn’t yours to fix. And that’s exhausting.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, her rings cold against your skin. “So what do I do?”

Daisy smiled faintly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You figure out what you want, what you need. And then you stop settling for less than that. It’s not easy, but trust me—it’s better than this.”

You look up at her, “What if I don’t know what’s better than this?”

Daisy pulls you into a big hug, “Trust me, you’ll figure it out”

When she pulls away, she cups your face in her hands, “So, you wanna show me what song you’re working on?”

You smile and sniffle as you nod. You hand her your small notebook, and for the rest of the night she helps you finish a song, and for once, you feel truly at peace.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Warren: “I think what was y/n’s problem was that she was afraid to stand up to Billy. I mean, she defended the hell out of him whenever anyone would say anything even mildly bad about him” 

“I remember there was this one time after a party, the day after I think, Eddie, Graham and I were talking about how Billy went too hard the night before. I tried not to say too much, for once, but Eddie just kept going at it.”

“Then she walked into the kitchen and Eddie said something like “Y/N, why are you still with Billy? He treats you like shit and always just leaves you during parties.” 

“She said that he just has a lot of shit going on and that he wasn’t in his right mind.” 

“Then she walked out and went back into Billy’s room.”

Graham: “Y’know I don’t even think she was trying to convince others that Billy wasn’t an asshole. I think she was just trying to convince herself.”

                🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

You were at a party with the band, and Billy was no where to be found. 

The music was too loud, the lights too dim, and the air reeked of cigarettes, drugs and alcohol. You were navigating your way through the party, trailing through a haze of bodies in search of him. 

You turned a corner into one of the quieter back rooms, where laughter was softer, secrets whispered behind closed doors. That’s when you saw him…with another girl. 

Her hands were on his shoulders, her hair spilling like silk down her back as she leaned in, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. And he didn’t stop her.  

For a moment, your feet were rooted to the ground, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation. This wasn’t real, you told yourself.

“Billy.”

His head whipped around, eyes wide with something that wasn’t quite guilt. More like panic. He was quick to push the girl away and run towards you. 

“Y/N, it’s not—”  

“Not what it looks like?” you snapped, your voice trembling with fury. “Go ahead. Say it. Lie to me. Again.”  

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. It doesn’t mean anything.”  

“You weren’t thinking?” You stepped closer, your heart pounding. “What part of this didn’t require thought, Billy? The part where you let her touch you? Or the part where you kissed her back?”  

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed, glancing nervously around the room. A few people were already watching, pretending not to, but you didn’t care.  

“No. I’m done keeping my voice down!”

Billy groans and drags you to a different area.

You’re quick to push him away, “Don’t fucking touch me Billy!” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then looks at you, “Look— I know you’re upset but—“ 

“But what Billy?!”

He glares at you, “Keep your goddamn voice down!” 

“No!” 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

You give him a look of disbelief, “Are you fucking serious—Are you really trying to turn this on me right now?“ 

“I’m not turning anything on you. But you have been drinking, haven’t you?” 

You blink a few times, was he really being serious?

“Don’t change the fucking subject Billy! We’re talking about y—“

“No. You don’t change the fucking subject!”

You have a look of complete disbelief on your face, “Don’t— Don’t you fucking dare Billy.” 

“Look I’m just saying. But come on, don’t make this more dramatic than it has to be.” 

He grabs your hand, “Come on, let’s go.” 

“What?” 

“We’re leaving. Let’s go.” 

You’re in shock as he starts walking with you, normally you would just go with Billy, going with him meant going back to the house to some crappy apology and then being in bed with him. You didn’t want that though.

“No.” 

Billy stops in his tracks, “No?” 

You push him away and take a few steps back, creating a decent amount of space between the two of you. “I don’t want to leave.”

He scoffs and bites the inside of his cheek, “Fine. Do what you fucking want.” 

You watch as he walks away, and you feel a sort of…relief. You also felt like something was changing in you. Something that told you that you aren’t going to let Billy walk all over you anymore. 

                🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Eddie: “Y/N came back to us looking, relieved. When she told us that she said no to Billy, I was so proud.” 

Karen: “Y/N standing up to Billy was not the most crazy thing that happened that night.” 

“She may or may not have made out with a guy after a certain someone convinced her to.” 

Warren: “What? I always hated seeing her get hurt whenever Billy made out with a random girl, so can you blame me for SUGGESTING that she does the same?” 

Graham: Laughing “Oh when Billy saw her, he was PISSED. But he didn’t say anything at all. Must’ve been hard seeing his girl give him a taste of his own medicine. But y’know what, it was nice to see Y/N happy, or at least act like she was happy. She finally got to actually enjoy the party for once.”

Y/N: “I was starting to realize a lot of things quickly. I was realizing that Billy wasn’t good for me. I was realizing that I deserved better. And I realized that my whole drug thing, I had to stop.” 

“So I tried, and while I was trying…I still tried to convince Billy that he should get clean too.” 

“I was convinced that I could somehow fix him, but it’s hard to fix something that’s been broken so many times.” 

A/N: *drops and runs away*

AHHH ITS HERE ITS HERE. you guys have no clue how much FUN i had writjng this. ESPECIALLY THE SCENE WITH DAISY LIKENBBASFHJKNFAHYGHFU

anyways...the 1977 era is coming to a close...then reader has to go bye bye for a while...(I AM SO EXCITED FOR 1978 NAKJJDNJGJKS)

ok so ik i said i would release GOU and WFYL on the same day BUT GOU isnt done yet so it'll hopefully come out like friday night or like saturday night. but i swear it will be out this week.

ANWAYS I hope you guys enjoyed reading this!! as always I hope you all have a good day/afternoon/night!!

and my requests are open! so leave whatever questions/ask you guys want! (it may take me a while to get to them since I do already have alot but I will get to it so dw!)

[xxavengingangelxx]

Like a Phoenix

Notes: This came from a request for a comfort/love fic @unicorngirly1! <3

It was inspired by this amazing, gorgeous work of art by @shadow0-1. It made me wonder if Phil would worry about his wife leaving him were he to get scarred on a mission.

Anyways, summary!: Graves is burned in an unexpected explosion and is scarred. He worries about his wife leaving him because of it but his wife more than reassures him his scars only make him more attractive to her.

Warnings for: SMUT! MDNI! No other warnings, just hot and heavy sexy times and brief descriptions of burns. Work has been insane and I was suddenly inspired to write this after a dry spell. Not much proofreading, sorry for mistakes! But I had to get it out to my buddies :)

Taglist: @bellgraves, @shepgurl, @sharksausages, @lily-lily131313, @candy616. Want on or off the tags? Let me know :)

-

You were the wife of a mercenary. Weirdly enough, you two had met in a bar. What a story to tell the son you shared, right? You’d always been attracted to soldiers and you had just finished college and you’d been having fun with soldiers coming back from deployment. You’d been hanging out there for a year while you worked a boring office job, that bar really being your only source of enjoyment in your otherwise boring life.

You’d met a couple of soldiers, some of them foreign. The ones coming off deployment were always…rough wasn’t the right word. Passionate was. But holy shit were those nights hot and heavy. There was one you hooked up with a couple of times before meeting Phil. What had been his name? Johnny? Sometimes if he was in a mood he’d have you call him Soap. Scottish men were something else.

And then, funnily enough, on fourth of July weekend, your eyes caught Phil’s. You didn’t know his name back then of course. But you caught him looking at you, his blue eyes catching the low light of the bar and glowing. He nursed a beer, typical Texan, and smirked at you. He was decked out in field gear with a vest that had an American flag, a tag that read B-23, and had wires running through it.

No name tag though. Nameless, handsome stranger.

That nameless, handsome stranger eventually excused himself from a group of men who were dressed similarly. The men had been checking you out, too and sneered at you as well. But the nameless shadow had called dibs apparently because they told him to “go for it.”

“’S your name, darlin’?”

And when he got closer that was when you realized he was tall and broad and built and he had this heat that emanated off him that was almost intimidating. He smelled like cologne, aftershave, gunpowder, and sweat. And the fear of his enemies. He’d killed people earlier that day you were sure.

So why did that make you even more attracted to him?

You stumbled over your name for the first time in your life as he eyed you up and down shamelessly.

A booth opened up near the bar and the man led you towards it before you really knew what was happening. He had to take off his vest, the Velcro ripping loudly in order to fit in the booth. As he sat across from you, you caught more of his intoxicating scent. He was all man.

You wondered what his war-torn body looked like naked and what he would taste like on your tongue. You wondered if he would stretch you when he pushed himself inside you. You pressed your thighs together under the table to ease some of the pressure.

“Caught you lookin’ and I was always raised to never leave a lady wantin,’” he said in that sexy drawl. “Names Phil. Phil Graves.”

You repeated your name, not stuttering over your words this time.

“What’d you want to drink?”

The rest was history. You stopped seeing other men and even though he had a way with the ladies he’d also stopped seeing other women. Before you knew it, he had you moved into his house in the span of a month. He’d made you quit that boring-ass office job, saying you didn’t need to work. He said no wife of him was going to work outside the home. Also, anything you wanted? It was yours.

And in the mean time? You’d fuck him, he’d fuck you, and everything in between. You hated when he went off on deployments but loved it when he got back. He had that scent that he had the first night you met him. So intoxicating.

You got married to him 6 months in. He’d said he just knew you were the one. You weren’t 100% sure but he’d certainly convinced you in the last 3 years. He was the man of your dreams and more.

He was on deployment now and you were expecting him back any day. While he was away, there were always 2 Shadows posted at the house to keep you and the son you shared with him safe.

You’d just had breakfast and had your son on your hip when one of Graves’s men approached you, satellite phone in hand and a solemn look on his face.

Your mind instantly went to the worst place.

“Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone,” you whispered. You had intended for it to come out harsher but you couldn’t. Tears prickled your eyes and your son poked at them curiously as they fell down your cheeks.

“No, thank God, it’s not that,” the Shadow reassured.

“Then what?”

“There was an unexpected explosion and—”

“And, and what?!”

“He was burned,”

“So?”

“He might have permanent scarring,”

You sighed. “I don’t give a shit. I wanna see my husband.”

-

You’d left your son in the care of a "Shadow dad." That particular Shadow was your son’s godfather so you trusted him with your son’s life.

When you stepped into the hospital room, it was warmer than you expected it to be. “Phil?” You called out softly.

No answer. Just the beeping of the machines.

You gently pushed the curtains hanging from the ceiling to the side…

And there he was.

Peacefully asleep. The left side of his face had a white translucent bandage as did his left arm. His left leg seemed to have been spared and if you guessed, his chest had been spared because of his vest.

“Phil,” you sighed, starting to cry. You cuddled up to him in bed on his right side and cried softly while you listened to him breathe.

-

The next year had been trying. Phil, the great Shadow Commander had been unable to join his soldiers in the field. He hated sending them out with him going. His men were like sons to him and losing any of them would have him sniffling while trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

Graves had healed. Skin grafts had taken and you and your husband had both come to terms with the fact that he was always going to look different.

His Shadows started calling him Phoenix because he had literally risen from the ashes of an explosion and lived.

And then suddenly, out of the blue it seemed, Phil started getting nervous about you leaving him, about his son being scared of him.

“That’s silly. Your son loves you.” You brought the now-sizeable four-year-old into the room, having picked him up out of his playpen and brought him to set next to his dad on the couch.

Father and son made eye contact, with Phil looking at his tiny (compared to adult Graves) son sitting next to him on the couch and his son looking at his hulking figure of a dad. The boy’s green-ish blue eyes met his father’s blue eyes.

The pause lasted forever and you started working up a line in your head that even if the tiny tot expressed fear, that it was nothing to worry about.

And finally, the toddler smiled and crawled into his father’s lap, running tiny hands over the left side of Phil’s face and his left arm. “You squiggwy, Daddy. Color inside the lines.”

And tears pricked your eyes as well as Phil’s when you all laughed.

-

“You should find someone better looking,” Phil said to you later than night when you came in from having put your son to bed.

“Phil, that’s ridiculous. I love you.”

You crawled in to bed with him and snuggled up to him. You then climbed on top of him. He had been lying down on his back and you straddled him.

“Phil, all this does,” you ran a gentle hand down the scars on the left side of his face and his left arm. “Is make you look hotter. You beat death. You’re a badass.”

“Can I tell you…ask you something?” Phil whispered, resting his hands on your hips.

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything about me leaving you,”

A kind smile touched his face.

“Can we have another?”

“Another—”

“Another one.”

Oh. Oh.

“You want another kid?” You asked.

“I really do,” Phil answered.

“How do we make babies again?” you teased, grinding your hips on his growing erection.

Phil easily tossed you off of him onto the side of the bed. Hard enough that you had to catch yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

“Shit, my bad,” he chuckled. “Ya’lright?” he asked, helping ease you under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

“More than alright,” you purred.

Phil had recently been able to be more active as his skin healed and he easily pulled your nightgown up and off you.

“No panties?” he smirked, eyeing you lustfully.

“Easy access,” you said coyly.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. He pushed his sweats and boxers below his cock, now hard and red and ready.

“Only for you,” you moaned arching up, feeling the hot tip of his cock kiss your entrance before Phil placed a hand over your belly button and tsked disapprovingly.

“So needy,” Phil gasped when he felt your own wet entrance touch him.

“Gotta get you ready, yeah?” Phil rumbled.

“M’ ready, m’ ready,” you pleaded, trying to arch up to his hot dick, now oozing precum.

“Could be more ready,”

And you gasped when you felt his lips on your entrance. His stubble on the right side of his face still scratched your inner thigh and you had to stop yourself from yelping at the sudden sharp sensation.

And he licked you from your vagina to your clit, making you quiver. You hands went to his hair, holding him in place. His hair had grown out slightly longer and it just made it all the easier to grasp it.

And when he sucked on your clit, and pressed his tongue against it, you moaned his name.

He withdrew suddenly, making you whimper at the loss.

“Phil,” you protested.

“I wanna be inside you when you cum,” he said darkly.

And so he pushed inside of you, slowly, so slowly that your breath caught in your throat when you tried to tell him to go faster. He suddenly bottomed out inside of you quickly, slamming home in a way that made you cry out.

“Don’t wanna wake ‘im, hush,” Phil whispered, his hot lips brushing your ear. “Don’t make me put something in there to make you be quiet.”

You moaned, softer this time.

Phil moved, pulling all the way out before again starting slowly and then pushing back in to hit your cervix.

You brought your hands up to his shoulders. You scratched his right shoulder with your nails. But not his left one. That one had just been kissed by the flames but the fire had spent enough time on that skin to scar him.

Phil groaned, grinding his hips against your clit as he hit your cervix and that gummy spot inside you. His hot lips now sucked a hickey on your neck before moving to your breasts. And that combination of sensations: his hips grinding against you, stimulating your clit, his long, thick cock hitting your cervix as his thrusts became harder, fast, and his sucking your breasts was when you surrendered to him and came.

He was quick to put his left hand over your mouth to cover any cries that might have left your mouth otherwise.

“Fuuuuck,” Phil gasped. He thrusted faster, his hips losing their rhythm as he got closer to his own high. He removed his hand from your mouth and instead used his hands to pin your wrists down on either side of your head as he chased his own climax, finally cumming inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum, right into your fertile womb.

Phil stayed inside you as you continued clenching around him, hearing him hiss as he was now overly sensitive.

“Never leave,” Phil whispered.

“Never will,” you promised.

[irenespring]

House MD Fanfic: "There Were Expectations" (House/Wilson)

My House MD 20th anniversary gift fic for @coffins-and-marbles , who asked for Wilson angst! I hope you like your gift!

Find the fic here!

Until the collection is published, find the fic below the cut!

---

Fic preview:

Wilson needs to get House the perfect Valentine's Day gift. He always knew what to get his previous partners, but dating House is different. Or is it not different enough? What if the path of close friends to lovers is going to backfire like it always does for him? What if this just another thing he is destined to mess up.

---

Thank you so much to everyone who will read when the collection is published!!

Comments help my day and my writing motivation!

------

It was supposed to be better. 

That’s the only thing Wilson can think as he paces a tacky Valentine’s Day-themed grocery store aisle at 3:21pm (late enough that he won’t have to hide anything in his desk where House will find it, early enough that he won’t need an excuse to ditch House for the evening).

He’s not even sure what “ it ” even refers to. 

His fucked up brain that can’t parse “happy” signals from “sad” signals from “fine” signals from “the world would be better without you” signals?

The rising panic that he wasn’t just “straight, with one exception” like had first assumed, and might be gay, like actually gay, capital G Gay, and holy fuck what is he supposed to do now?

The fear that House will really leave him this time, simmering then boiling then simmering again since Tritter showed up at the damn clinic?

He doesn’t know. He just really expected something to be better after House kissed him. 

It had felt life-changing at the time.

But he’s the same stupid Wilson, can’t make a decision for shit.

---

Wilson stares at House’s TV like it’s a particularly challenging algebra problem. There’s an answer in there, somewhere. A correct answer. And he has to get it right. He just has to. 

House—because he asked to be called “House” rather than “Greg,” which is a little absurd, but it also means that he calls Wilson “Wilson” rather than “James,” which is nice just because it’s not what Sam called him—pokes him with his foot.

“C’mon, pick something.”

“It’s your apartment. You can pick.”

“You’re my guest, and social custom dictates that you pick.”

“Oh yes, because you’re such a big fan of social custom.”

“Wilson. You have to pick.”

“Whatever you want is fine.”

It’s a trap, probably. A test, to see if he chooses something good, if he has the makings of a good friend. Wilson is moving to New Jersey soon, they’re going to be working together. And that makes them actual friends, instead of over-the-phone friends. They’re going to be spending actual time together every day, not just a few hours at conferences. It only makes sense that House needs to make sure Wilson is up to par.

He isn’t. He’s not sure in exactly what way, but he isn’t. It’s been nice, having a real friend. Wilson wants to keep that nice feeling of camaraderie, of closeness, of safety. The second he chooses wrong, he knows it will be gone. 

He doesn’t think House will hit him. He doesn’t have the cover that she had. If his wife slaps him, that’s sitcom comedy. If House slaps him, that’s assault. So House probably won’t slap him. But he could. He’s taller and stronger and faster than Wilson. He could. 

No. He won’t. More likely he’ll just mutter something about Wilson’s taste being terrible and just pick his own choice anyway. He can talk a big game, but he doesn’t want Wilson to choose. Wilson is bad at picking things. He’s bad at most things, really. It’s a miracle anyone puts up with him, especially House who doesn’t even seem to buy his “perfectly happy” facade. He’s going to ruin it. 

He has to remind himself that that scenario is good though. It ends with them still being friends. It ends where Wilson wants them to be: with House’s choice on the television, the two of them mocking the characters and laughing. House actually finds Wilson funny. It had taken him a while to actually convince Wilson of that, to get Wilson to make his own jokes, but it worked. They joke around together. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

But that’s what he always thought with her. But he always got it wrong and she got mad and would yell things at him. Later on she would shove him, smack him…but just when she was tired, it was never a big deal. Still, he learned very quickly that should just let everything go, let her lead. It was fine. She liked him. She said she did. That was as good as he was going to get, fraud and failure of a man that he is. But she still divorced him without even facing him, and the only thing that kept him together was that he had House instead. Now he’s not even going to have that.

He can’t do this.

“Wilson?” 

Shit. His breathing is coming too fast, House knows something is wrong. This is pathetic, he is pathetic. He needs to say something, but no words come out. 

“I-” he manages, “I’m fine.”

“Just pick something.” House’s voice is oddly patient. 

Wilson does like cooking shows. Maybe- 

No. House doesn’t like them, he gets frustrated that he can’t actually taste the food, and thus can’t verify whether or not the judges are full of shit. Wilson can’t pick something that House doesn’t like, that would be selfish. Selfish is bad, selfish makes him just another asshole. His selflessness sets him apart, it makes people like him. He wants House to like him. It seems unreasonable to ask that House like him as much as Wilson likes House, but just liking him a little bit would be enough. And that won’t happen if-

“You don’t pick, I break into your sparkly new office and replace all your books with some of my most favorite DVDs.” Wilson could fix that quick enough, and such a prank pales in comparison to the many doomsday situations floating in Wilson’s head in the event of a wrong choice. 

He stays silent.

“Is it Sam?” House asks, saying her name like a curse, his brow pinching in anger. He guesses that a lot, when Wilson does something he finds concerning. He is right more often than not. 

Wilson’s continued silence is close enough to a confirmation.

“She’s an evil scum bitch, Wilson. You let her mess you up, she wins.”

Wilson takes a deep breath. 

“Cooking show.”

House hates cooking shows. He grins anyway. 

“Alright.”

Wilson stares at House as the show’s intro music starts playing. He’s fairly certain that House knows, but he keeps his eyes on the flashing credits and B roll of chefs flipping pizzas and chopping vegetables. 

Wilson feels a strange fluttering in his stomach.

—

House was Wilson’s lifeline. People in the hospital joke that House is the parasite, draining Wilson of money, friends, and patients. That’s not true. House is Wilson’s place to go in the evenings when he doesn’t want to be alone. Wilson’s place to tell jokes inappropriate for the workplace. His place to relax. 

He’ll never relax again now. Wilson is cursed, doomed to repeat the same patterns over and over again. He makes friends, and soon enough they get ideas, and the relationship turns from friends to lovers and before long, everything is in ruins. Perhaps that’s the downside of realizing he likes men more than he’s ever liked women: the curse has spread to House. 

House would laugh if he knew Wilson’s concern. He puts curses in the same box as miracles, psychics, and magicians. Wilson would usually be right there with him. If there is a God, he doesn’t bother intervening in everyday life. He’s seen too many people die to believe in holy justice or mercy. 

Yet what other conclusion should Wilson draw? It happened with Sam, Bonnie, Julie, the women he hadn’t married, the women he had been involved with while he was married. Each time, he reviews his actions, what they could have possibly read into. A couple times, he’s even asked. No commonalities, just him. He can’t stay friends with anyone. 

Wilson’s never really been able to maintain a friendship with a man outside of House. He’s not sure why, but he’s never let his guard down, never escaped his courteous persona. He knows he’s gay now, that’s a different lens. Maybe he was afraid they’d see something about him, maybe he was afraid he’d see something about them. Something that would make his stomach flutter like it did with House, on those occasions that House was kind, or intense, or funny, or particularly clever. He could ask House, House always has some sort of theory.

Women were easier to befriend. They didn’t look down on Wilson’s perpetual agreeableness and sympathy. And Wilson could relax a bit once they did. Conversation came easier, and he never felt tense afterward, like he was expecting a strike. That didn’t come until the romance. And romance always came. They’d lean over and kiss him, and he’d feel that moment of panic before he remembered what to do, what other girls had liked. 

And from there, there were expectations. Things he had to do, that were expected of him. Valentine’s Day gifts like these lines of teddy bears, chocolates, roses. With his work hours, it was all he could do. Maybe House wouldn’t care so much, since he sees Wilson every day. Though that’s rarely good. Who wants to see Wilson every day? For all he knows, his marriages had lasted longer because he’d never been there. After all, he married Sam before he was a doctor, and she could only stand his presence after he took that second job for her.

Seeing Wilson was the surest way to realize all the ways he was inadequate. Perhaps he could find a patient tomorrow. Rearrange the schedule or something.

But House would see through that. House would come with him to the hospital and become a frowning shadow, making fun of his patients and playing “Hit the Intern” by throwing pens and paper clips. Then House would blame Wilson for making him spend Valentine’s Day at the hospital. And the resentment would set in. House is his best friend, but even he can’t escape.

He had been great friends with Bonnie. House had hated her well before they’d gotten together, well before House had even met her. Wilson had liked her, and she had taken up his time. She had been coming off a bad relationship, something Wilson knew something about. He’d told her things that he’d only ever told House. He’d gone with her to art shows and dancing lessons and museums. And then she’d kissed him, and everything fell apart. There was a difference between meeting her a few times a week to hang out and being in near constant communication between meeting for dates. A difference between being a part of Bonnie’s social sphere and the heart of that sphere. He could never meet her expectations. She had hated that he cared for House, she had hated that he couldn’t be a doting husband (the “like he was to House” had always been implied, until the yelling started). That disapproval weighed on him, until he would do anything to escape it. Then a woman made him feel different, made him feel so much better that it felt funny. And that was the end of that. 

He messes up. And then panics, and one of his friends will think that means they should kiss him, and he panics, and then he remembers what that woman wants. Before he knows it, he’s a cheater. Strangely, it had fit with Wilson’s image of himself. Who is more hated than the philanderer? Now they will see Wilson as he always was. 

His shield was too strong, however. They still liked him. He’d reach out, make friends, and the curse continued. 

What was he thinking, kissing House back? Well, for the first time, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He hadn’t panicked, he felt too alive to panic. 

This was bad. At least with previous times, his friendship with the women had been solid, uncomplicated. House had been out of rehab for less than six months, Tritter entered their lives less than a year ago. 

It’s possible their whole relationship is based on an emotional reaction to finally escaping the mess. One of the few emotional decisions House had ever made. One of Wilson’s few truly impulsive acts.

It must have felt like a great idea at the time. It must have felt like something that could fix him.

----

It’s starting to feel natural again. Which is good, because Wilson is kind of forgetting who’s supposed to be mad. 

Is it his turn, because House turned rehab into a farce, and is back to popping enough pills a day to fill one of those old-timey gumball machines?

Or is it House’s turn, because Wilson and Cuddy once again tried to “fix” him and he had to spend one day in a room with a rape victim and then several days in some sort of sad, far-away mood?

Probably House’s turn. Wilson never learns. He’s tried some sort of bullshit “return to humanity” scheme at least twice now. Three times, if he counts the time he tried to force House to have dinner with his parents. Given the few real, serious words House had spoken to him after the Girl In The Clinic fuck up, that was actually probably the worst one of all. So 3.5 times then.

Definitely House’s turn. 

But it’s not going to fix anything. Wilson will try it again. He knows that, even as the version of himself in this moment knows it will be a disaster. Because Wilson thinks that he needs to get House better. If only to stick it to the part of himself that knows he doesn’t want House to get better. He wants House to stay House. 

There’s a whole mess of reasons for that, probably. Something to do with the fluttery feeling he gets when House rakes his eyes over Wilson’s body and pronounces an insult about his tie. The warmth in his chest when they’re lying on the couch together, or playing cards in the middle of a hallway, and it feels like they’re the only two people in the world—because they are, at least to each other. The joy of watching House wreak chaos, then storm into Wilson’s office practically aglow with glee. The way House’s eyes light up with Wilson’s laugh. 

Small nice reasons building to one big nice reason. 

The nice reason that scares him the most: Wilson might be falling in love. Maybe he already has. Or maybe this is just a stupid crush. That would be a nice, stabilizing thought. But you don’t fantasize about a stupid crush for a decade—a new snippet of hot embraces or wholesome kisses popping up for every one you thoroughly pushed away.  

You don’t offer to spend the next ten years in prison for a stupid crush. 

That kind of certainty that you would give your life for someone—even when facing a dead-eyed cop with the exiled third cousin to House’s attractive smirk on his face—that means something. Something that would upend House and Wilson’s shaky equilibrium and set them on a path that Wilson knows leads to ruin. 

But luckily he has another reason to cling to whenever he gets too scared or too charitable to himself. The pathetic, evil reason:

Wilson doesn’t want to be the only broken one. 

If House was healthy and well-adjusted, he’d realize just how much of a fuck-up Wilson is. And he’d leave him. Because Wilson is the one who takes care of other people. No one takes care of Wilson. That’s just how it is. 

So to cover for the fact that he doesn’t want House to change, Wilson must continue to try to change him. 

And—Wilson is fairly sure about this—House must continue to provoke Wilson in order to be sure Wilson will stay. 

Wilson will always stay. So will House. Neither of them have ever truly wanted to leave, yet they can’t exactly say that to each other. And thus there will be another storm. But for now, there is calm.

“Are you angry at me?” House asks, faking casual with his eyes on the television and his arm splayed oh-so-nonchalantly against the back of the cushions. Wilson has the mad thought that if he scooted over, House’s arm would be around his shoulder. He dismisses it (more accurately, he stomps on it until it stays down) and focuses on the question. 

“No,” he says. This happens a lot: they both have reasons to be angry but decide it’s just not worth it. Not when they could be laughing at television idiots and gossipping about Xavier from Cardiology and his secret second family in Newark. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

House has always hated that answer. Sure enough, his brow furrows. He looks like a man out of a painting with that look. Stark and bold and breathtaking. Wilson wants to touch him, trace the lines on his forehead. But he doesn’t. House doesn’t want him to, can’t want him to. But if he did… 

Would things be different if Wilson made the first move? Would that break his curse? True love’s kiss breaks the curse. Maybe it’s not just noble princes and fair maidens, maybe it would work for two exhausted, haunted middle-aged men. Wilson still remembers how two years ago, drunk and high on Vicodin, House had leaned in, petted Wilson’s hair half-mockingly, and told him he was pretty. That has to mean something about something, but fuck if Wilson knows. 

House’s words jerk him back to reality. 

“Everything has a reason.” 

Wilson almost wants to laugh.

His belief in that Central Housian Principle ebbs and flows like a sinusoid graph. He believes it when he remembers Sam yelling and throwing a dish at him for forgetting her sister was coming to town, leaving him to cut his hand while cleaning up the shards. He doesn’t believe it when he’s diagnosing a seventeen-year-old champion mathlete with a stage three glioblastoma, and he has to mutter reassurances to the shaking kid as he sobs and clings. 

Wilson shakes himself out of mire this time, and tries to focus on House. He looks more intense than Wilson was expecting. Wilson secretly loves these moments, when House’s eyes bore into his and he’s important. This time he swears there’s a warmth in his eyes. The air suddenly feels charged. 

It’s nice. Wilson idly wonders what will break it, because he knows nice things don’t stay. Especially not with House. 

But he has an answer to give. 

“I don’t like change. I do like you.”

House stares at him, and Wilson realizes he has shocked the man who knows everything. He doesn’t have time to linger on that realization.

Wilson feels House’s hand on his cheek before he processes seeing him lunging forward. House’s eyes dart across Wilson’s face for a half a second, and Wilson is suddenly aware that his lips are slightly parted, and the tension in his jaw has vanished. He nods, a tiny motion, but of course House notices. 

His lips are chapped and not as soft as any Wilson has kissed before. But that doesn’t matter. The second they touch all thought flees his brain and he kisses back. He has no idea what to do. Somehow he’s a gay man nearing forty who has never kissed a man before. It’s hard to worry about that now, though. He feels a little bit on fire, the flames growing and growing as House makes a sound against his lips and begins pressing Wilson against the couch. 

Wilson can’t think, he can want. 

Either this is the craziest or most easily predictable thing they’ve ever done. And there’s no turning back. 

-----

There’s no fixing him. 

What is he even doing here? House will hate this. Any of this. What’s the point in choosing either a teddy bear, or a plastic rose, or a box of chocolates that will taste like candle wax when the mocking reaction will be the same? 

Make a choice .

He can’t. He’s only able to summon that weird sense of certainty when in House’s presence.

All of a sudden, everything is too much. His breathing is coming too quickly, and his stomach is in knots. He can’t be here. He can’t make this choice. Can’t do this again. Can’t try and watch everything apart. Not with House. He can’t, can’t, can’t can’t can’t-

The displays seem to be laughing at him, searing their gaudy images into his brain. Perfect stock cartoons of people in love, smiling with a perfect red heart between him.

That kind of love is for other people, not for him. 

None of this is for him. 

He’s only distantly aware of his feet carrying him out of the store. He hasn’t even bought anything. Go back in . But he keeps walking towards his car.

There are only a few other drivers, because most people are at work. Wilson should be at work. Yet he left his work and his patients who need him to stare at a grocery store display and do nothing . He has no gift for House, no plan, no way to save himself.

The thought of facing House at the hospital makes him panic, so he heads for their apartment. What will he even do there? He doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s alone, he should be fine. 

And because he was stupid enough to think that last thought in its entirety, House’s motorcycle is in its parking spot, when Wilson knows he rode it into work. Wilson contemplates turning around, heading back to work, doing his best to act like a functioning human being as he prescribes poison and comforts his victims. 

No, there’s too much chance that House has seen him. And he doesn’t want to give House any more evidence that he’s a coward. 

Each step towards the door feels like he’s climbing Mount Everest, but he makes it.

When he swings the door open, the first thing he notices is that their dining table is piled high with gifts. The same types of gifts Wilson just fled, tacky Valentine’s Day fare. The universe has a fucked up sense of humor. 

“If this is a burglar, get out while you still can. I’ve got a gun the length of a refrigerator with your name on it.”

“No you don’t!” Wilson calls back, the instinctive smile clashing wildly with his lingering terror. 

When House steps into the Wilson’s line of sight, he looks like he actually might have preferred that burglar.

“Wilson?”

“Present. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same question.”

“I asked first.”

“We both know I’m going to be more annoying about it.”

“ House .”

Strangely, that tone of voice has always been more effective against House than any logical argument. Because Wilson doesn’t really need an argument, not when he has the pile of what House had once called “capitalist fake-outs for love.” It makes him feel better than any words could ever have. At least he thinks that, until House says:

“Fine. I know tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and you get off on mushy crap, but I…couldn’t decide on what to get. I might have panicked a little bit, but what’s more likely is that all the sugary nonsense sent me into an abnormal allergic reaction-”

“I got it.”

“This is your cue to fall maddeningly in love with me,” House deadpans, but he’s still fidgeting, with his eyes darting between his pile of offerings and Wilson’s face.

He’s scared too.

“I don’t think I need an entire shelf of gifts for that,” he says. Then he waits to see if there is going to be any lingering on that comment. He doesn’t expect a reciprocal statement, he doesn’t care. The dining table is covered in reciprocal statements.

“My turn. What are you doing here?” House finally asks. 

It’s easy to admit now.

“I thought you’d expect something, but I couldn’t make a decision, so I came back here to contemplate my failures.”

The judgment Wilson had been torturing himself over never comes. 

“If you didn’t get me anything, I get to keep half of this stuff.”

“Sounds fair.”

They stare at each other, not talking. Wilson doesn’t know what to say, he doubts House has any ideas either. 

“Maybe we should talk,” Wilson finally offers. A bit of honest conversation might be good. It’s certainly the healthy thing. So naturally, House refuses.

“I’d rather spend the day in the clinic.” Harsh words, but understandable. 

“How about a cooking show?” Wilson asks bizarrely, not entirely sure of where it came from. But it does make House grin.

He takes a few shaky steps forward, before grabbing Wilson by the arm and dragging him towards the couch. 

“Deal,” he says, and leans in to kiss him.

[quimichi]

It's me the little guy Fae >:3 and I'm here for your match up event

Fandoms

Honkai and/or genshin

Pronouns

She/they

Hobbies

Illustration, crochet, embroidery, watercolor, gaming, TTRPGs (tabletop role-playing games) like DND, putting my characters through absolute hell (writing)

Gender preference

With fictional characters I prefer men but I love me a tall sexy evil Woman

Personality

Don't listen to what my hobbies say about me, I'm actually a chaotic little shit who runs circles around my friends. I do my best to give support when needed whether it be mentally or with a technical issue but I'm sure you knew this stuff before because we are friends on here. Though I will say I am depressed and that may impact the character I may or may not get matched with.

Fun facts

I really like foxes :)

And jellyfish :))

While it's not common enough to be a hobby I do know how to sew

My favorite colors are pastel pink and yellow

Well I prefer a cottagecore aesthetic for myself I actually don't prefer that in a partner.

I'm not a Neuvillette main but my autistic ass will go off about water (different bottles of water have completely different tastes you cannot change my mind)(also cold water tastes sharp and warm water tastes round I will not be taking criticism on this)

I don't have a green thumb per se because all my plants are suffering but they stubbornly cling on to life no matter how much I neglect them.

If you need more you know where to find me

A/n: I'M SORRY BESTIE BUT MY HEAD WENT "DOMESTIC" THE ENTIRE TIME---

ARLECCHINO

@ NO CAUSE HEAR ME OUT

@ you loce cottage core, and your hobbies are stuff like crochet and watercoloring. Its cute and i feel like Arlecchino matches that somehow??

@ listen, she is much more softer than she looks. She loves the kids and does really care about them, i think this cute little domestic life would fit her and would also be a dream for her

@ although she grows the kids into the fatui, she loves them dearly, can't show it tho-

@ but anyway--imagine sitting side by side near a fireplace while she reads a book and you do your thing beside her. No talking, just enjoying each others company

@ loooves to do domestic things with you, like cooking together, baking a cake, reading a book, crochet or bathing together.

@ i think she can do embroidery and crochet but not so good-teach her, she will actually listen. She's a little tsundere but she'll listen and she will learn pretty fast.

@ it's important that the twins and freminet like you, they visit quite often or she visits them. If they don't like you, or any of the kids in the house of the hearth, she would be quite skeptical about you then

@ lucky for you cause...they love you, duh?? Who wouldn't.

@ you're very parental, you give great comfort and you like to play with the kids.

@ and Arlecchino loves to watch lol

@ now to your depressed state. She will take it very seriously and will tell you so many times to rest and take care. She would give you the best tea from liyue, only the best watercolors from Fontaine, and the best baked goods so you can relax.

@ she would also leave you your space if needed. It wouldn't really bring her down, she would just be worried about you, but as a strong woman she wouldn't show it to you, that would only bring YOU down.

@ so dw, daddy Arlecchino will take care of everything. And if someone bothers you...well...you know...

GEPARD

@ listen it was hard for hsr ok---

@ for some reason I see you with Gepard---

@ also for the same reasons as Arlecchino, the little domestic life won't go out of my head for you-and Gepard also fits this

@ like-he comes home from work, also brought some goods from the bakery so you both can enjoy some sweets after dinner (which you both prepare together) and then after dinner and dessert you both cuddle on the couch while watching the snowflakes dance outside Belobog

@ if you ever decide to crochet him idk socks or something, he will wear them with pride. Even if they're pink with glitter, he ADORES them.

@ wears them under his gear lol. Like Belebog is cold he appreciates any warmth that he gets. And what is warmer than your love~♡

@ (I'm disgusting-)

@ super shy, we all know, so it took him a bit to gain the confidence to ask you out- I can see you being friends with Serval so--Imagine asking out the friend of your sister?? Yeah I'd piss myself too-

@ but Serval was pretty supportive sooo dw, it all worked out very well

@ ans Lynx is also not complaining with you so the relationship is blessed ♡

@ helps around the house, he was raised good :)

@ also, if he has every a free day and you have to work, he takes care of the things at home and cooks for you ♡♡♡

@ also runs you a bath. Spends his entire day making you smile when you come home.

@ very overprotective too. Can't stand seeing you sad or having a bad day or depressed episode, so he does everything in his power to change that

@ even if it means for him to act like a complete idiot just to see a smile, cause trust me, he would

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 5

Anyone fancy a bit of Monday heartbreak? 😢

So I'm fairly certain this is the penultimate chapter, I've got an insane week at work this week so I wanted to get this posted so I could start fresh once I recover from real life 😅

Enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

Tagging: @thomasshelbyswife @cillmequick

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Masterlist

Chapter 5

What appeared as twilight from the safety of the kitchen, was more like the depths of night outside. The air was cool and they’d both left the house in only the clothes they were wearing. Seren still had sneakers on, but David was in slippers. They ran into the nearest field, the grasses were as high as Seren’s shoulders in places and the ground uneven. The crops slapped her face and neck as she ran, feet pounding into the soft ground. Deep in the field, David pulled her down.

“I need to get hold of First Desk. Do you have your phone, did you call him?” He asked. Seren felt her pocket, her face ashen in the moonlight.

“Shit. Shit, it’s gone. Oh god, what the hell do they want? What the hell is First Desk?” She hissed. 

“They want me. I’m afraid River and I haven’t been entirely honest with you. But there’s no time for that, we need to keep going. You know the furthest barn?” Seren nodded. “Get there, don’t wait, just go.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You will if I damn well tell you to.” David instructed.

“I will not and you can’t make me. Let’s go.” Seren gripped the iron poker tighter in her hand and rose to her feet. They both moved off as fast as they could, the barn a few hundred meters away. As they ran further and deeper into the field, David struggled. His feet slipped inside his slippers and the ground got more boggy. She took his hand and pulled him with her. “Come on, come on,” she begged. “I've got you.” She could hear voices behind them, keeping their distance on the edges of the field. 

“You must go, get the First Desk and tell them we're compromised. Tell them to send that new chap, Lamb, I've heard he's handy in a sticky spot.” Seren's heart fell as she realised she'd lost him to the confines of his mind. 

“We can get there together,” she cringed as she attempted to play along, “First Desk are way out of my league.”

“True enough. You don't have clearance anyway.” Clearance? Her mind ran, desperately unable to keep up with wherever David was and their actual situation. “We need dogs here as soon as they can, and likely a clean up team.” Seren felt her breathing shallow and her eyes filled with tears. She swallowed and tried to regain control, tried to inhale fully and steady herself. She could feel the creeping terror of a panic attack trying to edge its way into her mind but was determined to keep it at bay. 

“Let's keep going, we're nearly at the barn.” She half dragged him the last hundred metres and pulled at the door. The barn was filled with hay bales at various heights, Seren breathed a sigh of relief that there were no unruly farm animals. They pulled the door closed together and she tucked David safely behind a stack a few rows in. She went to check how closely they'd been followed. She hoped the thieves hadn't bothered giving chase, a ransacked house was one thing but she wasn't sure how she'd explain to River if David was injured - or worse. As she rounded the corner to see if there was a way to barricade the door, it swung open. Seren hid behind the nearest hay bale and held her breath. The man whistled as he entered, casually peering around the large barn as if he had all the time in the world. Seren held the poker tightly in her hands and she moved silently deeper into the barn. The man started to lunge around corners, trying to catch her out, make her jump. 

“No point dragging this out, get out here and bring the old bastard with you.” He taunted. Seren's blood ran cold. She could hear him closing in on the stack she hid behind and felt a desperate need to get him further away from David, as far away as she could. As he rounded the corner, she aimed the poker at his midsection, swinging it like a bat. The impact sent vibrations through her hands and up her arms. The poker dropped to the floor alongside the man who dropped to his knees. Seren ran for the door. If she could lead him out and away, she could keep David safe. Or safer. She flew past him, feet pounding on the dusty floor, he wasn't far behind though and as she reached the wide space in front of the open doors, he grabbed her ankle and she hit the ground face first. Winded by the fall, she groaned into the dirt. She rolled onto her back and scrambled to her feet, balling her hand into a fist, she threw a punch to his jaw. She quickly realised her error as pain shot through her hand and the thumb she'd captured between her palm and fingers. He shook off her punch and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her high enough that her tiptoes scraped the floor looking for purchase. Black started to creep into the edges of her vision as his hand tightened and her breathing was more constricted. She could feel her consciousness slipping away, and then she heard a female voice. 

“Oh for god's sake Duffy, put the girl down. I thought we were going for low key?” The man brought her down a fraction.

“Put her down now!” David bellowed, hitting the man on the back of the head with the handle of his pistol. Seren tumbled to the floor, the man dropping her as he clutched at the back of his head. The woman spoke up again. 

“Gun down please, David.” She said sternly. Seren clutched her throat, still unable to drag enough air into her lungs. The panic attack and hyperventilating she'd managed to stave off were beginning to take hold. Somewhere in her semi consciousness she heard more voices and an overhead light came on. She hid her face in her hands, blinking away the bright light. 

“Isn't this all a bit much Di?” 

“Fuck off, Lamb, we had this under control.”

“Grandad, please put the gun down.” 

“Don't make me laugh, you can't control your own bowel movements, Duffy. Diana, this is an overreaction and you know it.”

“Can you both stop bickering, I do not have the energy for this.” Nestled amongst the raised voices and arguing which she could barely hear over the sound of her ragged breathing and the blood rushing in her ears, Seren heard a familiar voice. A body crouched down next to her, lifting her to sit more upright. 

“Come on darling girl, sit up.” She saw two David's in her eyeline and shook her head.

“Two of you,” she croaked, her breathing still not under control. 

“That'll be the lack of oxygen, can you breathe more deeply?” David placed his hands on her upper arms and tried to encourage her to slow down. In the corner of her eye, she saw the man who'd choked her with a gun pointed at David. 

“No, no,” she tried to shout. She shuffled to her feet and tried to put herself between the gun and David. 

“Fucks sake, can we decide what the fuck we're doing here?” The man growled, the gun firmly aimed at Seren. 

“What the fuck, Duffy? Put the fucking gun down.” Seren soon had River's body between her and the gun and found herself looking at the rough pattern of his jacket. He had an arm pushed out behind him, keeping her hidden by his body. She swayed on the spot and felt David gently guide her back to the floor. With her eyes adjusted to the light and her breathing steadily becoming more even, Seren started to pay more attention. River still had his back to her, David sat by her side. 

“Let's put the dog back in his cage eh, Di? Seems the old bastard has his faculties for now so shall we try and talk like grown ups?” A bedraggled looking man standing near River spoke up. 

“Suddenly the voice of reason, Lamb?” The man they called Duffy sneered. 

“Well yeah, actually, I'm bloody hungry. A man's gotta eat.” 

“Shut up both of you.” The woman said sharply. She was dressed impeccably, despite their location. She looked around the standing bodies to David. “Are you with us, Cartwright?”

“I am currently, Diana, yes. Though I can't guarantee for how long. I assume you're here to kill me?” David patted Seren reassuringly on the shoulder and got to his feet. The woman hummed. 

“It was my intention, yes. It's becoming increasingly apparent that you don't have the mental capacity to keep certain things quiet any longer.”

“It's true, my mind is not what it once was. But I've given nothing away, the girl is evidence of that. She's completely in the dark.”

“Until now.”

“Yes, well, blame your dogs for that. Watching us for months, putting us on edge.” They fell silent. 

“Where do we go from here then?” The scruffy man asked, lighting a cigarette. “Would you like us to shoot you once you've had it, Di?”

“No I bloody would not.”

“Bit of a dick move expecting the old bastard to get it then? And I don't even like him.”

“Your opinion is noted, Lamb.”

“Ma'am, may I-” River started.

“Fucking hell Cartwright, we were just getting somewhere.” Lamb interrupted. 

“Let him speak, River has my power of attorney, I trust him to speak for me.” David said wearily. The woman rolled her eyes and gestured for River to continue. 

“He's right, he's not given up any information even on his worst days. Please,” he pleaded, “please don't kill him. Can we have a service approved carer? Regular reviews, anything?”

“Lamb?”

“Don't look at me, I want fuck all to do with this.”

“But you agree with the suggestion?”

“If you kill him, you're setting a precedent for how you or I will be treated when we lose our marbles. I for one want to die drunk in bed covered in Chinese takeaway, not shot by this moron.” He pointed at Duffy. The woman looked at her watch impatiently.

“Fine. But if anything goes wrong, it comes back on you, Cartwright, and he,” she pointed at David, “won't be able to save you this time.” River nodded obediently. 

“Yes ma'am, understood.”

“I think we're done here. Clean up the fallout Cartwright.”

“No more dogs?” Lamb asked. The woman hesitated and he looked pointedly at her. 

“No more dogs, you have my word.”

“Glad we're all in agreement, now fuck off Duffy.” Lamb clapped his hands and shooed the other man toward the door. The woman and Duffy left, leaving Seren with the two Cartwrights and Lamb. 

“The girl needs hospital.” Lamb told River. 

“‘m fine,” she shook her head, making it ache again. He knelt down in front of her, Seren could see his sallow skin and greasy, lank hair. He looked at her neck, mottled with purple bruises, and her hand, swollen and misshapen. River watched over them, he still hadn't spoken to or approached Seren himself. 

“You need x-rays. Your thumb is broken and you need your wrist strapping up. Go alone,”

“She's not going alone.” River stated.

“Want to be arrested for beating up your girlfriend?” Lamb asked, “cos that's what they'll think.” He turned back to Seren, “you go alone. Tell them you were mugged and a police liaison officer will be taking a statement tomorrow. Then get yourself off home, plenty of painkillers and some sleep. Cold water for your throat.” He stood back up. “We, gentlemen, have got some shit to work out.” 

“Can I at least take her to the hospital?” River asked. Seren could feel the anger bubbling up, sick of being called ‘girl’ and ‘her’.

“Drop her at the door, you'd better come back with food.” 

“I'm not going anywhere until someone explains what the fuck just happened?” Seren said as loudly as she could manage. The men fell silent. “River?” He looked between Seren and Lamb, loyalties torn. “This is ridiculous,” she turned to David who looked exhausted. Despite her anger, she couldn't help but want to help him. “Come on, let's get you home.” She took his arm with her good hand and led him slowly outside. River's car was abandoned outside with the doors wide open and the engine running. She helped David into the front seat and sat in the back waiting for the others. It was a matter of seconds back to the house along the gravel track. With River trying to catch her eye in the mirror, Seren wished she'd put David in the car and walked. She needed time to process what she'd heard and seen, but her anger was too great to ignore and she had too many questions to walk away. In the house, Seren assessed the damage. The back door had been kicked in and the route from the back door to the front door looked like the path of a tornado. Lamb started opening cupboards. “There's food in the fridge.” She told him, sinking into the armchair in the kitchen. She was freezing, so she pulled her hoodie (River's hoodie) from the back of the chair and slipped her arms into it, pulling it around her. David came in from the sitting room with the whiskey decanter while River followed with glasses. He handed her a tumbler with a few generous fingers of single malt in the bottom but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She stayed in the armchair, legs pulled up like a shield while the others sat around the table. Lamb tucked into the pie she'd made earlier. 

“So, what do you want to know?” David asked. 

“Everything. How long have you been lying to me?” Her throat hurt, her voice was low and husky. David shook his head.

“It wasn't a lie,” he stressed. 

“We're MI5.” River told her. Across the table Lamb leaned back in his chair and threw up his hands. 

“So much for anonymity.” River ignored him. 

“This is my… boss.”

“The woman? And the thug?” 

“Everyone's boss. She's interim head of MI5. He is actually just a thug, we call them dogs. They're usually carrying out her dirty work.” Seren stared at him. 

“The dogs? You brushed me off when I told you what David said-”

“I know. I was wrong.”

“Fucking hell, Cartwright, it must be love if you're admitting you were wrong about something.”

“Love?” David queried. 

“Do you mind?” Seren snapped at Lamb. “I think we've more important things to discuss.”

“I like this one, she's feisty.”

“Fuck you.” She glared. 

“Got a bit of heartburn, better not.” 

“So what, why was she here?”

“They thought it easier if I were dead. I once had Diana Taverner's job. I have a lot of information, a lot of secrets that they don't want escaping as I deteriorate.”

“That's true? They came to kill you?” She was incredulous, it sounded too far-fetched to be true. “And you knew? You knew we were in danger?” She turned to River. He went to speak but she got there first. “So what the fuck was I? Collateral damage?”

“No! God, no. Seren I didn't mean for you to be in any danger-” Seren stood up abruptly and downed her drink. Already unsteady on her feet, the alcohol didn't help. “Wait, you can't drive, let me take you?”

“I'm fine.”

“Seren, please?”

“I'd listen to him. I don't tend to, but I can't see you making it to the hospital on your own steam.” Lamb pointed out. Her shoulders dropped, she knew he was right. “Get back here sharpish. No dawdling.” He warned River. 

*

In the car, Seren sat as close to the door as she could get and stared out of the window. River watched her carefully, only taking his eyes off her when the road demanded his attention. 

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, grateful that they were finally alone and he could speak freely. She didn't respond. She cradled her bad wrist in her good hand, she was shivering so he turned up the heat. As she turned slightly to acknowledge the extra warmth, he could see the tears in her eyes. She swallowed thickly, trying not to let them fall, but the pain in her throat made her grimace. They pulled up at the hospital, the bright lights of the A&E department bursting through the darkness. He reached out to place a hand on her thigh and when she flinched, his heart sank. “I'll pick you up when you're done?”

“I don't have my phone-”

“Here, take mine,” he scrambled in his pocket. 

“I don't want your phone, or a lift, or anything to do with you.” She finally turned to look at him. “Don't contact me.” She looked completely betrayed.

“If that's what you want-” the car door slammed and he watched her slowly make her way to the entrance. He dragged his hands over his face and up into his hair, trying to shake off the desperate heartache of watching her walk out of his life. He sniffed and nodded firmly to himself. Time to clean up the fallout, like he'd been told. At the house, neither Lamb nor the elder Cartwright had made any attempt to straighten out the mess Duffy had made. Under duress, David had agreed to a service approved and chosen carer who would report weekly to Lamb and Taverner and daily to River. He would no longer be assessed by his own GP, but by a private MI5 doctor and he would undergo rigorous bi-monthly tests to track his health more closely. By the time Lamb left, River wasn't sure David had an ounce of privacy left - something he knew Seren would have advocated for. He wondered if he'd given up David's freedom too easily but decided, in the absence of Seren's guidance, that it was either this or give up David's life. He knew which he preferred.

“I'm proud of you my boy.” David told him as River helped him into bed. 

“I didn't do anything.” 

“You came when we needed you. How's Seren?” River shrugged. 

“She doesn't want anything to do with me. With us.”

“She'll come around.” 

“I don't think she will.”

“You like her?” River looked away, “I may be old but I'm not stupid. I heard two people climb the stairs a few weeks ago. And I heard that bloody car of hers leave at some ungodly hour. The way you look at her, I used to look at Rose like that.”

“Sorry grandad,” River sighed.

“I'm not angry. She's good for you. For both of us.”

“Yeah well, not anymore. We start again with someone new.” David frowned. 

“We'll see about that. Get some rest.”

“You too old man. G'night.” River closed the door quietly and set about clearing up the mess. He wedged the back door closed as best he could, swept up broken glass and righted everything that had been knocked over. He found Seren's phone in the front porch, her bag in the kitchen, her book in the sitting room. She was scattered around the house, hair ties by the kitchen sink, a notepad on the coffee table, her favourite chocolate in the fridge. He left everything where it was, apart from the phone which he put by her bag, then he fell into a dreamless sleep on the sofa. He was woken by shuffling sounds from the kitchen and hushed voices. Bleary eyed, he wandered in to see Seren handing a taxi driver a tenner from her purse. The man thanked her and left, raising his hand in a wave to River as he did. Seren spun around to face him.

“Thought you'd be asleep.”

“How are you?”

“Sprained wrist, broken thumb, bruises.” 

“Your body combat teacher will be chuffed.”

“I dick around in a dark room pretending to punch stuff. I've never actually hit anyone before.” She muttered. 

“You look tired.”

“Thanks, you look like shit too.”

“Why don't you get some sleep in my room?”  Seren raised an eyebrow, “alone, I mean.” She shook her head. 

“I need to go,” she took her bag and keys from the table, shoving her battered phone in her pocket. “Tell him I said goodbye.” Her voice cracked and he reached for her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. 

“Seren-” he said softly. By the time she turned back to him, she'd regained her composure though the tears she'd tried to hide rolled down her cheeks.

“Don't say my name like that. Don't speak to me like I mean anything to you. You've made me a fool. I knew I shouldn't have let you win me over, I knew I should have stayed out of your way. I don’t want to see you again, goodbye River.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and left him on the kitchen doorstep as her car spluttered to life and roared down the drive.

Chapter 6

[whyse7vn]

FREE NAMJOON -

[ ot7 x reader ]

FREE JIMIN

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

y/n: if i open instagram and see namjoons feet again i’m going to go insane

tae: me 2 😆

jimin: tae makes physically ill !

hobi: real.

tae: i never said i am going the good insane what the hell

jin: you didn’t need to say anything

we know

jk: the fact ur not trying to hide it anymore is real upsetting bro

tae: society will never progress with people like you guys

i am the future

yoongi: why are we always taking about feet?

jin: some times at that prehistoric age you tend to do drastic things like that

jimin: prehistoric?? ur older than him?

jin: okay and? you look fucking older than him

wrinkled fuck

jimin: you are turning into dust as you type

namjoon: bye we are not talking about feet again.

y/n: tae and joon for therapy i say!

jimin: jin for a retirement home!

jk: who do you think will die first?

like out of us

hobi: you

tae: probably jimin

jimin: are you insane jin is literally 82 on deaths doorstep fr

jin: i agree jimin will be first to go no doubt in my mind in fact i will single handedly make sure of it and that is a promise to you all as my closest friends

jk: omg! ur so cool!!!!!

jimin: wtf???

what about that is cool?

yoongi: jimin would die first

jimin: WTF?????????

jin: LOL

jimin: FUCK YOU

yoongi: when have you guys ever had a civilised conversation

namjoon: who wants food? i’m ordering

jk: maybe it’s all sexual tension

y/n: fr just kiss or something

jin: HE WISHES

jimin: the way i almost threw UP

namjoon: can someone answer me

jk: sometimes there is no answer

hobi: deep bro.

jk: awomon

namjoon: is it not amen?

jk: clearly you are NOT a feminist!

jin: me personally? i’m a feminist

jimin: me 2 i love pussy

hobi: awoman 🙏🏼

tae: international womens day everyday!!!

suga: 🤞🏻

y/n: can you guys go one day without mentioning feminism omg

jin: it’s so deep in my veins i cant

jk: what is an orgasm??

namjoon: i’m actually leaving the group

jimin: kook not knowing what an orgasm is was ur last straw?

weak 🥱

namjoon: no it was actually after tae talked about feet for a least the 1000th time today

tae: is it not the power house of the cell??

y/n: oh wow

jk: holy shit ur right

yoongi: ????

tae: wydm ???

yoongi don’t be upset cuz you didn’t know

jk: right…

tae: nvm it’s actually pretty common knowledge so maybe you should be a little upset

jin: you guys make me want to pull my hair out

jimin: it’s practically falling out already doesn’t really make a difference

y/n: tell me you guys aren’t being fr…

tae: wait….

MY FAULT i thought you said organism 🙏🏻

wasn’t wearing my glasses

yoongi: the way that’s still wrong

hobi: he wears glasses?

jk: so what does it mean

jimin: guys i have a crush 🤭

jin: always a crush never a job

y/n: HELDPDODOFODKFJFKC

hobi: set him free for fucking real

yoongi: pt2

jimin: fuck you all i didn’t want to talk about it anyways

jk: do you think ironman gets lonely in heaven

namjoon: maybe you should join him

jk: OMG???????

namjoon just told me to kms (real) (not clickbait)

tae: what if jungkook doesn’t go to heaven?

who knows what he does behind closed doors

y/n: he vapes

jk: NO

y/n: if you say so

jin: jimin and namjoon going to hell that’s all i know

jimin: omg take my dick out your mouth

jin: ew?

namjoon: ????

tae: i know joon does coke on the low

yoongi: :3

namjoon: what???

hobi: i could be a red velvet member if i tried hard enough

y/n: i believe in you

hobi: means the world tbh

namjoon: when have i ever mentioned coke in my life?? let alone taken it

tae: see how defensive he’s getting

someone call the police

yoongi: jungkook joined a cult yesterday

namjoon: what?

hobi: namjoon are you not tired?

namjoon: ?

hobi: always asking questions like are you not sick of it

have you found the answers you’ve been looking for

if not i suggest you stop asking and give up all together :/

y/n: I AGREE

#stopthequwstions2023

namjoon: im leaving before i say something i regret

*namjoon left the group*

jin: he was so gonna say the n word

y/n: HELDPDODDODODOODOD

tae: stop the namjoon hate 2023

jk: i miss him so much

my life is falling apart

*jk added namjoon to the group!*

namjoon: leave me ALONE.

*namjoon left the group*

jimin: yikes

yoongi: skill issue tbh

y/n: i take no blame for this btw

jimin: i didn’t do anything!!!!

tae: not me

yoongi: ❌

jin: lowkey hobi’s fault

hobi: i blame jk

jk: wtf…

[spookitordukeit]

Guys I am so very very insane.

I have so many ideas for so many stories running laps in my silly little brain over and over and the moment I start writing one idea, another two pop up beside it. Oh I am so ill. So feral. I am unwell. I need to write them down. NOW.

Okay-

1) I’ll put this one up first since it’s almost mermay, but I’ve had this idea for months.

Silly little MC gets pressured to go on a fun little boating trip by friends. (Bad friends) Unfortunately, MC has ✨thalassophobia✨ stuff happens and ‘friends’ decide it would be so ha ha funny to push MC off the boat as a little prank. News flash. MC has always been scared of water. Mc never learned how to swim.

Yada yada, Mc panics, starts to drown, hears clicking or something and is suddenly back on the boat gasping for breath. Orca Sans is not happy to have humans drowning in his waters. He is also not happy to have ‘friends’ polluting his waters with their trash. He had been following them because they kept throwing their shit overboard and then they threw over a while ass human. The man’s is not happyTM.

Anyway, she ends up passed out and her friends take her home, she wakes up the nest day thinking it was all just a weird dream, especially since no one but her seems to remember it, they said she passed out from the heat. After all, Monsters had emerged from the mountain a few years ago, she probably was just having funky fever dreams.

…On a whim, she goes to the dock closest to where her friends had their boat. Even if it was just a dream, the worst that can happen is she ends up looking silly.

Nothing happens and she ends up staring up at the moon, listening to the water hitting gently under the dock. It’s dark enough where she can pretend the water isn’t water and is just the night sky under her feet. She recalls a vague song, but it’s blurry she doesn’t remember where she heard it. There’s no words to it, just musical notes. On a silly whim, she sings in the quiet darkness.

It’s only when she finishes that she opens her eyes, finding two white eyelight staring back at her.

Thinking of calling it Learning Your Song.

2) I really really love the anti-harem concept, especially like There’s Still Magic by RosesCry and I’d love to write one myself! I have the idea of a whole verse for this one- I’d call is NexusTale or NexusHub and It’d be this one huge nexus where all the aus emerge from their mountains. I’m thinking it will be the first original verse lord wise. And other verses just continuously show up, many of them leave to go create their own Home AUs once their free, but may also stay.

MC has a… troubled home life to say the least. I can’t say much about this without spoiling it, but her and her sister live together, MC owns the house but she may as well be a freeloader with the way her sister and the skeles act. Oh yeah- did I mention MC’s sister invited a whole gaggle of skeletons to come live with them without asking MC?

It’s not like she could say no— they’re all newly emerged from the underground and don’t have a place to call their own, her and her Kindness couldn’t just leave them to the wolves… I Have Many Ideas For This One— I think I’d call it Shades Of Green or something.

3) okay so hear me out- Blue joins the Bad Sanses but with horrendous ✨trauma✨ Blue is with the Stars, and he does his best! He really does! But even his best isn’t enough most times. And people need him— people will die and suffer needlessly if he rests for even just one moment— so he must keep going! Dream is always there to give him a searing hot boost of energy whenever he’s falling behind. And who is he to complain if it makes his marrow feel like it’s boiling him from the inside out? If it feels like his soul is filled with churning, molten lava? If all he can think of is fight fight fight— anything to get rid of this feeling.

Why does Killer keep asking him weird questions? What does he mean he thought Blue would be too out of commission from mourning to fight?

…When was the last time he saw his brother…?

I’m thinking of calling it, When Dreams Turn To Nightmares. I also want to up the anti by having Nightmare somehow be able to transfer a little bit of his power to the boys?? Making them like demi gods??? Idk I’ll figure it out

4) okay okay— UnderFell soulmate Au where the first words your soulmate says are somewhere on your skin. I know I know, it’s been done many time but LISTEN- Monsters emerged from the mountain like five years ago and very quickly took over, humans are lower class and the world over all is pretty sucky. MC lives in a shitty run down apartment and works a shitty job. She has two marks, one on each of her wrists like shackles.

She’s working at her job at the gas station one day, tired, hungry and ready to go home when the captain of the royal gaurd and the freaking judge walks in. She’s panicking because two of the most powerful and dangerous Monsters are within killing distance of her, as she should. She does her best not to make eye contact with either of them as they loudly walk through the aisles, but, inevitably, The Judge comes over to the checkout and she can’t ignore him— no one ignores the judge.

Red says something probably along the lines of “what? cat got yer tongue?” And MC freezes mid scan of an item, the words on her left wrist burning against her skin for a brief moment.

She looks at him with utter horror and Edge walks, excuse me— stomps over with some snappy demand like “WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG, HUMAN? WERE VERY BUSY!”

And then the words on her right wrist start burning and all she can do is mutter out “This can’t be happening.”

Both the boys freeze for a long moment and MC flees out the back door.

I’m definitely calling this one Shackled By You Words, Collared By Your Love. Because yeah it’s UnderFell, there’s collars lol. MC has one that she wears that she fills with her own Intent to keep Monsters away. Not that it works very well.

5) I reeeeeaaaallly want to do a dark fic 😔 I think writing a Yandere Edge would be really interesting. Not in a ‘I’ll kill anyone who looks at you’ but more in a ‘I’ll steal you from the forest and take you home where you will never leave because I only I can keep you safe and you will never want to leave.’ Kinda way.

So MC is a skeleton creature of some sort, not sure which yet. She lives in the forest alone, without a pack. Her pack was… lost. They had been taken from their homes once, and she got free. But now she is alone, and has been for many years.

She had her den and she protects the forests creatures from hunters, many of which do not leave alive. One day she catches a familiar scent, and with her soul racing and the inside of her skull screaming that she’s found them! They came back! They escaped! Family! Pack! Pack! Pack! She races through the trees and follows the scent, skidding into a clearing with an elated yell of welcome, only to stop short and have the words die in her throat.

The monster that stands shocked in the clawing is not her pack.

Fear, grief and rage well up in her soul and instead of running the monster out or killing him for trespassing in her forest, she runs. She runs all the way back to her den and burrows herself into the deepest parts of her nest while her soul tries it’s best to tear itself apart. The brief hope that had surged in her soul leaves her more broken then she was before, her kind is not meant for isolation. She so horribly, painfully alone…

She doesn’t leave her den for days, creatures of the forest bring her food and water, and stare worriedly at her until she accepts them, wolves bring her fresh kills and rabbits snuggle into her sides. The forest is worried, and yet she can not bring herself to move. She is alone.

Prey animals scatter and Predators growl in warning when a figure emerges from the trees. MC looks up in shock and fear as the monster from before pauses in the little clearing of her home. Anger quickly stomps out her fear as the monster is surrounded, she pulls herself from her den and growls at the intruder who dares to invade her home.

The Skelton monster does not look worried for his well being despite the wolves, bears and even a great moose surround him. The forest hisses with anger.

Somehow it deescalates and Edge ends up coming to the forest quite frequently. He is observant and quiet but he’s kind and sh is so very alone. She attaches to him quickly, missing him when he’s gone and chattering endlessly the moment he’s there. She shows him her den, shows him her nest, shows him the wonders of her forest and tells him of her darkest memories.

Memories of white labs and cold voices and the whines of her pack from behind separated walls. Memories of escaping along with another, but losing sight of him along the way. (Sometimes she thinks she can smell him on Edge… but that’s just her head playing tricks on her.)

…When she wakes up from a nap that leaves her groggier then normal, she’s a little disoriented. But not for long. The place she finds herself is unfamiliar, but Edge is not.

She can’t do anything but stare at the monster in front of her in silent horror, a cold pit in her stomach as her shaking hands grip onto the collar around her neck.

Idk what if call this tbh.

Sigghhhhhhhhh. So yeah, that’s all my ideas so far. Any of them strike your fancy?? Lemme know! I’ve already got five fics going, what’s five more?!

*sobbing*

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Sun and Moon show incorrect quotes.

1.Eclipse: I’m totally useless. Moon: You’re not totally useless. Moon: You can be used as a bad example.

2.Ruin: Don't have a bookmark? Try ketchup instead!! Bloodmoon: What makes you think I read?

3.Lunar: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

4.Ruin: Watcha doin? Bloodmoon: Stealing my neighbour’s cat. Ruin: Scandalous. Ruin: Can I help?

5.Bloodmoon: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Eclipse: How? Bloodmoon: I need someone to take the fall. Eclipse: What did you do? Bloodmoon: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Sun, from the other room: Oh my god. Bloodmoon: … Sun: OH MY GOD! Eclipse: Make it a hundred. Bloodmoon: Deal.

6.Earth: Do you know a turtles only weakness? Moon: No… well, their slowness. Earth: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Earth: Now I have a plan. Earth: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable.

7.Bloodmoon: You're a lying piece of shit! Eclipse: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Earth: I'm leaving and I'm taking Lunar with me! Sun, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

8.Ruin: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Eclipse: You know that's called a coma, right? Ruin: Ruin: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

9.Eclipse: When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Eclipse lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

10.Moon: So, Bloodmoon and Ruin. Moon: According to this, you two are being accused of: Armed Robbery, Vandalism, Drug Abuse, Grand Theft Auto… Bloodmoon: We had a bad day. Moon: And… MURDER?! Ruin: It was a pretty bad day…

11.after the Squad has been separated for a few years Eclipse: So what have you been up to recently? Lunar: Leading a revolution with Earth. Eclipse: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob. Lunar: nods Oh, how cool! That's awesome! Eclipse: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Ruin? Lunar: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Moon? Eclipse: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break him out later. Bloodmoon? Lunar: Cult leader. Eclipse: Yeah, that sounds about right.

12.The Squad is playing Chess Ruin: easily beats everyone because they know how to play Bloodmoon: doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway Lunar: doesn’t know the rules, and loses Moon: knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t Eclipse: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so. Earth: They named a board game after cheese?

13.Eclispe: It’s illegal to look better than me. Bloodmoon: I guess we’re all going to jail then.

14.Ruin: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times. Moon: I hope you understand how food poisoning works. Ruin: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I never met a burger i couldn’t eat.

15.Eclipse: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Ruin, rushing in: Eclipse! Bloodmoon tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

16.Ruin: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Bloodmoon and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Bloodmoon.

17.Bloodmoon, after sneaking into Lunar’s bedroom: Hey, wake up! Lunar, half awake: Huh!? Bloodmoon: I just murdered your entire family! Lunar: …But I live alone. Bloodmoon: Huh? Then who are these people in your house??? Lunar: There’s people in my house? Bloodmoon: Well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could’ve died! You’re welcome!

18.Sun: I want to be like a caterpillar. Lunar: Explain. Sun: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful. Earth: You know they have a lifespan of a week, right? Sun: Sun: That's just another highlight!

19.Eclipse: I need some help with my homework, Earth. Earth: What’s the assignment? Eclipse: I’m supposed to write a paper that presents both sides of an issue and then defends one of the arguments. Earth: What’s your issue? Eclipse: That’s the problem. I can’t think of anything to argue. Earth: That’s hard to believe. Eclipse: I’m always right and everybody else is always wrong! What’s to argue about?!

20.Bloodmoon: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Eclipse and Lunar's convo? Moon: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Earth: I'm in the washing machine. Sun: I'm in the closet. Moon: We accept you Sun. <3 Sun: No I'm literally in the closet. Moon: Love is love. <3

[vtforpedro]

life update - long

It took me a hot minute to find the last update. December, I guess? I'm so tired I never stop being tired and time is not real anymore. Anyway. Disability Stuff: I won my case in federal court in February. They said it'd take a year so I was a little hm. Found out the SSA voluntarily asked the judge for the remand because the written decision was indefensible and they were gonna take another look. Pros: Hey, I won! I get a second hearing! Cons: I didn't get a brief written by the federal law firm because there was no time. This is actually a tactic used by the SSA. I have no doubt they're fine tuning another denial. I also have to wait for the lower level court to figure out what was so bad about it (that they'd already ruled was perfect) to give to the judge I will have another hearing with. The same judge. Who said I was a liar multiple times and omitted eight months of medical evidence and said mental health issues are subjective hahaha. I hate this country. Health: Boy howdy it's been better and worse. I had the tilt table test in late December, went... ok enough, but my neuro didn't like how ambiguous the report was and sent me back to them to speak to an autonomic disorder specialist. Scheduled in Jan, just had my appt with her this month lol she is busy. She ordered: genetics test, labs, and skin biopsy. I've done the first two, third is scheduled in July and I'm gonna be a mess because needles u_u Brain stuff is much of the same. Episodic. Manageable times are a godsend, bad times are really bad. My heart started to do some funky ass shit a few months ago. My mom kept writing it off as anxiety no matter how much I explained that it felt like my heart was pounding after exercise. My BP and pulse shot up high for a while and b/c my pulse never came back down and it was interfering with, you know, living, my PCP sent me to cardiology. :') Cause I wanted my heart involved in this mess One 24hr holter monitor, echo, and heart ultrasound later, and I have a new heart condition. He said 'your heart is beating so fast you would normally see it with exercise' bada boom baby and has nothing to do with fucking ANXIETY >:[ I'm on heart medication. 10 meds. I need to start another med for my psych but that's 11 and I'm honestly getting upset because it's so fucking much medication in one day but every single one of them is necessary so what can really I do? Personal: Relationship with my mom is at an all time low. This is extremely unfortunate because a few weeks ago, my mom told me she is basically being 'laid off' (she's not losing her job for a while, just retiring earlier than expected) and I have to leave my home of 10 years by mid-August. Got no sympathy from her about it *finger guns* I've gone through the devastation of that and am kind of just stuck in how is any of that gonna work. My brother and I can't live together, so he's gonna move into a family friend's rental. Except he has no job and hasn't been able to get one in months. He started one on Monday, is gonna leave by Friday because it's horrific ig. Anyway my mom promises he won't be there. We have to move based on my disabilities and my mom's house is gonna have to reflect what we have here. I'll see it when I believe it. I don't trust her anymore. Extra unfortunate that I'm gonna be living 24/7 with my mother who has been an abusive person in my life the past two years. The short break thru the day that my apartment is just mine, quiet and gentle, is gonna be gone. I'll be introducing my solitary 11 year old cat Lilly into a house with 3 other cats. She only knew Isis her entire life. She was just diagnosed with neuro issues this year after going through an MRI. We don't know if she has seizure activity or if it's movement disorder, but the med she's on treats both and she has gotten better. Same process Isis went through. Cannot believe I have two cats with neuro issues and likely the same one. May 18th was one year since Isis passed. Rough, tiring day.

I don't know how it has been that long. Feels like it just happened. I can still see her and feel her through my apartment and losing it in August will probably shatter me most because of losing the last place she existed in. I miss her more than I can say.

She was my little soulmate and her absence is felt in every corner here. Writing/Fandom:

I went through a whole fucking situation over in the Stranger Things fandom that has left me not wanting to post anymore. Idk if neuro shit has destroyed my ability to write but it's humiliating and painful every time I post a fic.

I posted stucky (1 out of 2 fics this year) on my main acct and lost 8 fuckin user subs? Like goddamn. What'd stucky do 😭 anyway it was even more devastating and kinda like 'here's your big ass sign to keep your writing to yourself.'

Between the god awful shit that happened in the ST fandom and my inability to put together even a good one shot, I'm feeling really down about one of two creative things I can do in my life. I used to love sharing my stuff. I want to write and share but it feels like it's harming my MH. I can't draw or paint right now, either. And I can barely move around my apartment without pain. I can't even leave it except for doctor appointments.

Idk. Very walls are closing in type of feeling and I hate it. In short: I'm tired, struggling, and too many things are happening at once. I love you all 😩💜 thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Your support is felt through one update to the next. I hope you're all well and I'm sending all my love and hugs to you.