#back door 2: a key fits but does not turn the thing ?? so what does that key even go to ???

[keeps-ache]

locked out of the house lol ✌️

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they���re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

[yournowheregirl]

welp, this one has gotten out of hand (over 3k... yikes) but here we are! part 3 of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (only 2 more parts after this!) 

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 3: coat of many colors

Only a few weeks later, Eddie starts to slip up.

Any other day he’d wake up to the sweet, sweet sounds of his favorite Dio album, but one morning he grabs an old Johnny Cash album that Wayne sometimes listens to and puts that one on instead. 

It’s nice, and even though it’s apparently recorded at an actual prison, it still feels like home (Eddie tries not to think about that too much).

On a late night when Wayne’s still at work, he fishes his old acoustic guitar from underneath his bed and starts strumming away random chords that sound like the country songs his momma played when he was little. Sometimes he still remembers the lyrics, softly mumbling them even though there’s no one around to hear them. 

It’s nice, it doesn’t sound as sweet as when his momma played it for him, but it still feels like home (Eddie actually thinks about it a lot this time).

And it’s not like he’s abandoned his usual music or anything. He still has his Judas Priest tapes in the van because his driving would probably even more reckless if he drove without any music (and isn’t that saying something). And he still loves his sweetheart more than anything, she just has to deal with sharing him for a bit.

Not a lot of many people notice it, at first. Mostly because he still keeps that part of himself hidden, safely tucked away in the comfort of his own bedroom. 

But Wayne notices, because of course does.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, son?” Wayne asks, never looking up from where his eyes are glued to the morning newspaper. 

Eddie’s halfway out the door already, car keys jingling against his rings when his uncle speaks up, turns around in the doorway. “Uh…” 

He looks down at his clothes - what is he wearing anyway? Ripped jeans - all fine, nothing new. White t-shirt - okay, not his usual color but not that strange. Forest green plaid button down and beat-up leather boots that both actually belonged to Wayne at one point - yeah, that must be it. 

“Yeah, I mean I know they’re yours… You want them back or somethin’?”

Wayne chuckles and closes the newspaper, leaning back in his chair. “No, no. Not at all. Just surprised you’re wearing it. Ain’t you meetin’ the kids?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie frowns. “Should I… not be wearing this?”

“Wear whatever you want.” Wayne shrugs. “It’s just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, nice. Nice to see you bein’ comfortable wearing that sorta thing again.” Wayne says. “Lord knows you wouldn’t be caught dead in it years ago.”

Eddie thinks back to when he first came to Hawkins, with an almost empty suitcase and ratty old teddy-bear in his hand. He didn’t have any clothes that were fit for the cold Novembers in Hawkins, more used to the mild Tennessee winters, so Wayne did the best he could and dressed him up in the warmest thing he had on hand at the time. A warm, blue flannel that Eddie’s small frame almost drowned in.

Not that he cared about it at that point. He only cared about how warm and soft it felt.

Which was fine up until the point that the other kids at school started caring about their clothes and how they looked and they started laughing at Eddie’s clothes. Making fun of how poor he was that he couldn’t even afford a decent sized shirt. Teasing him in the locker room about the holes in his socks. 

He decided then and there to swear off all the clothes Wayne picked out for him and changed his style up completely. His classmates were gonna bully him anyway, but he’d be damned if they insulted Wayne in the process. 

“Well, yeah. Guess I’m goin’ back to my roots.” Eddie shrugs.

“Noticed that as well.” Wayne is smirking now, way too pleased about the whole situation and gestures to his mouth. “Your accent, Ed. Any minute now and you’ll be talkin’ like Miss Parton herself.”

Eddie’s face heats up - if only Wayne knew what he’s been up to in his spare time “Shut up, old man. You’re gonna make me late.”

He drives a little faster than normal to the Wheeler’s house, because Wayne really did keep him a few minutes too long, but he still ends up relatively on time for Mike’s birthday party. Everyone’s already in the decorated basement (balloons and garlands and all) and Mrs. Wheeler is snapping pictures left and right, much to Mike’s obvious dismay.

Mike’s face does light up when Eddie comes stumbling down the basement, present in hand.

“Happy Birthday, mini Wheeler.” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, not fair! We were friends way before you befriended my sister.” Mike sighs.

“Eddie’s just got good taste.” Nancy smirks before turning back to her conversation with Max and El.

“She said it, not me.” Eddie laughs. “Now open your present.”

He’d bought Mike this older copy of a D&D manual. It’s a first edition that Eddie randomly found one day in a thrift store and considering the grin on Mike’s face, Eddie knows he made the right decision. 

Behind them on the table there’s a bunch of already-opened presents but one sticks out to Eddie - a beautifully depiction of the Party members, including El and Max, painted onto a notebook.

“Nice notebook.”

“Isn’t it the coolest? Will made it for me.” Mike gushes. “He always knows what kind of present to get me. He’s such a good friend.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Poor Mike, so tragically oblivious to what’s staring right in front of him, bowl-cut and heart-eyes and all. But since he can’t actually laugh Mike in the face, he just smirks and pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh Michael… Bless your tiny lil’ heart.” 

Mike just beams at him, once again blissfully unaware of the little back-handed compliment that just escaped Eddie’s Tennessee mouth and runs off again to join the party. Not noticing a thing.

But apparently someone does.

“What was that?” Steve asks from where he’s standing behind Eddie.

“What was what?” Eddie replies automatically. He doesn’t turn around just yet, slightly terrified to find out Steve’s reaction. Not there’s any malice to be heard in his voice, but Eddie’s learned to be careful even when everything seems to be safe.

“That… the whole bless your heart thing.”

“That’s a just saying.” Eddie shrugs.

“But the accent… where did that come from?” Steve stammers.

That comment finally makes Eddie turn around only to find Steve staring at him, jaw slacked and cheeks tickled pink. And well, isn’t that interesting. 

Eddie grins as he takes a step closer to Steve, head cocked to the side. “Didn’t you know? I ain’t from around here.” He’s really laying the accent on thick this time, just to see how Steve will react. 

It pays off beautifully because Steve just stares at him again, his face turning an even deeper shade of pink that contrast with the tight yellow t-shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with giddiness at the sudden power he’s holding over Steve, making him all flustered like this.

God, he really shouldn’t be flirting with his very-much-straight crush but it just feels so good.

“Where- where are you from then?” Steve clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Tennessee, baby. Born ’n raised.” 

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, does it a couple of times actually, like he’s a goddamn guppy. It’s, frankly, adorable and Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. He lowers his gaze, his hands moving through the air like he’s unsure what to do with that.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna talk to Robin for a sec. Be right back, okay?”

Eddie watches as Steve disappears in between the kids, sees how he frantically talks to Robin before dragging her upstairs, clearly in need some alone time.

Huh. Weird. 

-xxx-

Eddie comes clean about his roots to the rest of his friends a couple days later and to his surprise, no one really seems to bat an eye. Sure, there are few laughs here and there but it’s never bad. A couple of questions (mostly from El) about where he grew up and that’s that.

Or so he thinks.

Because he also told Steve, Robin and Nancy about the fact that there’s a country bar just a couple miles from Hawkins and that he’s being going there almost every week just to feel a little at home again. And now, they obviously want to come with. 

Eddie’s feeling slightly nervous about it - this is still on a whole other level than just wearing one of Wayne’s flannels and bringing out his drawl every once in a while. This is about who he is, how he was raised, and he’s not really sure how things’ll go down if his friends react weirdly about it.

Pat is surprised to say the least when Eddie strolls into the Off-Road next Wednesday with Robin, Nancy and Steve in tow. Robin swore up and down that they should dress the part even though Eddie told her it wasn’t necessary, but there they are anyway, plaid shirts and all. 

It’s slightly embarrassing to be honest, but Robin seems to enjoy making him suffer (well, that was until Nancy took off her plaid shirt and tied it around her waist to show off her tight black dress underneath and Robin almost had an aneurysm. Ha, how’s that for payback?). And besides, Steve’s looking unfairly hot in that light blue flannel so who’s Eddie to complain?

“Well, well, well. Looks like you got some friends after all, Ed.” Pat grins. “Welcome y’all.”

After Eddie introduces everyone, Robin starts talking Pat’s ear off, overjoyed with the fact that she’s finally meeting another queer woman, asking her all kinds of questions about growing up queer and how she met Tish. Eddie smiles, feeling happy for his friend. 

On the other side of the bar, Steve and Nancy are hunched over the jukebox, arguing about the next song to play.

“Is that him?” Tish asks as she puts down his beer - Eddie figures he might as well take advantage of the fact that Nancy’s driving tonight. She nods to where Steve is clearly losing the argument with Nancy. The way he’s bending over the jukebox in those tight Levi’s is making his ass look insane and Eddie lets out a strangled sound.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

Tish lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. You’re screwed.”

“Why, geez. Thanks for that boost of confidence, Tish.”

Tish just winks at him and disappears back into the kitchen. Eddie just sits and sulks for a bit, head rocking along to the song that Nancy picked out until Robin suddenly slides into view, eyes filled with mischief that Eddie doesn’t care for one bit.

“So… A little birdie told me you’ve been singing Dolly Parton songs here on the regular.” Robin says in a sing-song voice.

Damn Pat and her blabber mouth.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “And what about it, Buckley?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you might wanna play a song for us tonight?” Robin asks. She clasps her hands together and pouts when Eddie rolls his eyes at her. “Please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“Well… I can’t really say. Not yet anyway.” Robin smiles awkwardly. “But I promise you’ll be happy about it once it works out. Please?”

Eddie sighs - he’s never really been able to resist someone begging and he’s not gonna start now. He finishes his beer in one swig and makes his way over to the stage, taking the now-familiar acoustic guitar from the wall.

His friends sit down at a table close to the stage, staring at him with eager excitement as Eddie tries to think of a song to play. He feels strangely nervous. They had seen him play before, been to a few of Corroded Coffin gigs and he even sang the Beatles’ Blackbird for Nancy’s birthday but this still feels scarier, more intimate. 

And the thing is, he can’t really go with one of the songs he played her before because one wrong look in Steve’s direction and he’d be fucked for life. Or even worse, a love song - that’d make for a real awkward evening. So, he finally settles on a song that’s neither of those, but still a song that’s very close to his heart.

“Back through the years, I go wonderin’ once again. Back to the seasons of my youth…” Eddie sings softly, though his drawl rolls out of him with full force. 

He can’t help it, it’s the only way he knows how to sing this song because it’s the way his momma sang it to him every night before going to bed. Tucking him in tightly underneath the duvet, covering his face with kisses until he couldn’t stop giggling. Her voice soft and warm as she sang him to sleep.

“There were rags of many colors, every piece was small. And I didn’t have a coat and it was way down in the fall. Mama sewed the rags together, sewin’ every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors, that I was so proud of.”

He thinks of Wayne. Thinks of the clothes Wayne gave him while growing up. How he wore them to school with pride, excited to have clothes to call his own. To have a home and someone taking care of him, not because Wayne had to but because he wanted to. 

“So with patches on my britches and in holes in both my shoes, in my coat of many colors, I hurried off to school. Just to find the others laughing and are making of fun of me, in my coat of many colors my mama made for me.”

Thinks of his classmates laughing at his accent, at the way he dressed, at his amazement of seeing snow for the very first time. Remembers going home to Wayne with tears in his eyes, stuffing his plaid shirts into the deepest corner of his closet and trading it for plain black tees instead. Remembers staying up late when Wayne was at work to practice his speech pattern by watching old tv-shows and repeating the lines. 

Looks up at his friends. Realizes how he’s showcasing all those parts he hid away for years and is for once, rewarded for it. They’re listening intently, proud smiles on their faces. Nancy and Robin are leaning against each other, their fingers finding their way to one another.

Glances over at Steve, whose hands are folded underneath his chin as he looks at Eddie with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and almost like honey underneath the warm ceiling lights of the bar. He barely blinks, eyes glued to Eddie and Eddie only. It’s a bit distracting, if Eddie’s being honest. He feels his cheeks heat up and he almost misses a chord at one point, realizing then and there why he didn’t pick a love song in the first place. 

He needs to sing, not melt into a puddle of goo underneath Steve’s gaze, goddammit.

“Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be. In my coat of many colors, my mama made for me. Made just for me…”

The song softly fades away and Eddie mumbles a quick thanks into the microphone as his friends and the rest of the the bar burst out into applause. He shuffles over to the table  where he’s met with Robin and Nancy beaming at him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“That was so good.” Nancy gushes.

“Yeah, it was amazing! You should switch music genres, if I’m honest.” Robin nods. “Change Corroded Coffin’s name into Corroded Cowboy or something.”

Eddie chuckles. “Not sure if the guys are gonna like that. But thanks, girls. Means a lot.”

Steve stays strangely quiet in between Robin and Nancy’s stream of compliments, just fiddling with the coaster in between his fingers. It’s not until Nancy drags Robin to the dance floor when an upbeat song starts playing and Eddie slides into one of the empty seats they left behind, that Steve speaks up.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?” 

He says it so softly that Eddie can barely hear him over the bluegrass music on the speakers. Still, it’s enough for Eddie’s cheeks to flush pink.

“Thanks.” Eddie replies, ducking his head to prevent Steve from seeing his flushed face. 

“Seriously, man.” Steve says. “Think about Robin said. I mean, I love hearing you sing and scream about the world’s injustices with Corroded Coffin as much as the next person but…”

Eddie’s heart starts beating out of his chest because holy fuck, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing.

“But these songs seem to come so natural to you, y’know?” Steve glances up to meet Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You make it seem so…”

“Easy?” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles and there’s something in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher. A secret that only Steve seems to know. “Yeah, exactly. Easy.”

Eddie feels the flush on his face deepen underneath Steve’s gaze and he needs a way out before he starts doing something incredibly stupid like drag him to the bathroom just to see what happens when he calls Steve darlin’. 

“You want a refill?” Eddie says quickly, gesturing towards the empty beer bottle on the table. “My treat.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

The sound of his own name rolling off Steve’s tongue almost makes Eddie  stumbles as he stands up  makes his way towards the bar. Smooth, Munson, real fuckin’ smooth.

“Two beers please.” Eddie tells Pat, drumming his ring-adorned hands on the faded wood of the bar.

“Here ya go.” Pat says, handing him the drinks. Eddie’s about to turn back, when she stops him. “Ed, I don’t mean to mess with your head or anythin’… But are ya sure that boy’s straight?”

Eddie snorts. “What’d you mean? ‘Course he is.”

“Well, I won’t be so sure about that, kiddo.” Pat says with a knowing smile. “I’ve been seein’ the way he looks at you tonight and well… let’s just say it’s the same way I look at Tish every morning I wake up next to her.”

Eddie looks up to where Steve’s chatting with Jack, one of the older regulars who’s an actually banjo player in his spare time. He just watches them for a minute, a soft smile playing around his lips, the one he always gets when he’s looking at Steve. 

Steve looks up and their eyes meet, a bright smile appearing on his face as he wiggles his hands in the air to wave at Eddie. He seems so happy and he’s never looked more beautiful. 

Christ, Eddie’s so in love with him.

“That. That look right there. No one looks at their platonic friend like that. Not when there are other feelings involved.” Pat says firmly. “You might wanna start re-thinkin’ this whole situation, Ed.” She adds cryptically and returns to where she’s drying off another glass.

A tingly feeling spreads all over Eddie’s body, a shiver running up his spine. It should feel nice, it does feel nice, but at the same time Eddie knows it’s actually the worst feeling in the world.

Hope. 

tag list: 

@solosnail @gothbat99 @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @henderdads @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinisthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @magpiemuseum @mightbeasleep @maya-custodios-dionach @theokatz @this-earlobe-is-naked

[avenging-fandoms]

I feel like Pedro is craving love so badly but doesn’t allow himself to fall for anyone because he is so scared to be hurt again. This man 😭

I would love to read a fluffy/angsty one shot where he does fall in love before he even realize it and he gets scared and fuck things up. Maybe they can be friends at first. I want to cry and die.

this tiktok of pedro talking fits so well with this fic.

Part 2

You were the light Pedro needed. The breath of fresh air. He was drowning- and you pulled him to safety. He was thankful for you every single day.

It was an accident that you met Pedro, but you're thankful you did. You were walking out of you coffee shop in Los Angeles and not paying attention to where you were walking, bumping into Pedro and spilling your iced coffee on you in the meantime.

"Oh, my goodness I'm so sorry" he scrambled to grab napkins and you thanked him with a smile, patting yourself dry. Thankfully you wore a black hoodie, but you still smelled of vanilla and coffee. "Here, let me buy you another one. This place has the best coffee and I bumped into you"

You smile. "Thank you" He lead you to the counter, and you ordered your coffee again.

"Didn't you just get a coffee, boss? Did I not make it right?" Dylan asked behind the counter and you shake your head.

"No, Dylan. I accidentally bumped into my friend here and I'm wearing your masterpiece" Dylan smiles and takes Pedro's order, taking his car and you two meet at the pick up counter.

"Boss?" he asks and you nod with a small curve of your lip.

"I have owned this coffee shop for almost 6 years now"

"No way, that's amazing. You guys are amazing. I pop in here from time to time and my coffee always tastes the same"

Pedro would could in frequently and ask for you every time. You two would split a banana bread and chat over coffee, really getting to know each other. Your employees teased you about it, they loved that their boss was finally falling in love.

You and Pedro were attached at the hip. He would take you traveling, on set, he loved showing you everything about his life and you loved watching it. Every time he looked at you, he thanked the skies for sending an angel in the shape of you.

It was the season finale for The Last of Us and you threw a party for just you and Pedro. You shut off the lights and throughout the show, you slowly leaned towards Pedro and end up crying on his shoulder.

The credits rolled through and you sat up, wiping your eyes as you look at Pedro. The only thing making you able to see Pedro's face was the thumbnail of the show. "Fuck, Pedro. You did an amazing job"

"Thank you sweetheart. Means a lot" he rubs your back and his eyes meet yours.

There was that feeling again. The feeling of loss. The gut put that leaves a bruise that healed on the outside but hurts every time you move. He saw every way he could lose you, and he saw every way he loved you.

"I have to go" Pedro quickly stood up and slid on his shoes, grabbing his sweater.

"Pedro, what happened? Did I do something?" you stood up and let the blanket fall off of you, turning on the light as you watched him scramble for his keys.

"I can't.. I can't do this" he breathed and slammed the door behind him, leaving you holding your jaw open as your eyes burned.

You lock the door and sulk back to the couch, flopping on the cushions and looking at the screen. Your guy.

Your body shook with sobs and your mouth let out the loudest cry. Your arms cradled your body, jaw numb from how hard you were crying. What did you do wrong? What happened in that millisecond time frame?

You calmed yourself down and sat up, writing an email to your employees that you would be taking the week off but would be popping in to see how everything was going.

You spent the week avoiding anything Pedro, but it was difficult when he was your world. And when he was all over it. When you dragged yourself into the coffee shop, you took down the pictures of you and Pedro off the Polaroid board, stuffing them in your pocket.

"Hey, Boss. How you holding up?" Dylan asked as he sat in the break room. He could see your red eyes and put down his phone. "Do I have to beat him up?"

You laugh and sniffle, Dylan giving you a side hug. "I just don't know what I did wrong. He freaked and left" you huff and he rubs your arm.

"My ex boyfriend did something like that. I still never found out why" Dylan said and you nod, patting his back.

"Thanks, Dyl. Keep up the great work" he nods and you head to the floor, checking on inventory and the employees while putting a fake smile on your face. They all could tell something was wrong, and they knew what it was, they just didn't want to make you anymore upset.

You headed home and rotted in the corner of your couch. Your body was sewed into the couch, crying on and off all day. You missed Pedro. You wanted to text him, call him. But he didn't want that, he made it clear.

You just wanted your guy back.

[morgana-larkin]

Hey peeps, so this is an idea that randomly came to me, especially since today April 26 would have been my dog Toni’s 17 birthday who passed away a year and half ago. I based the puppy’s appearance off of her as she was a blonde miniature poodle and she also loved cuddles too.

Now here’s the summary: You and your wife Melissa get a puppy for the first time. The puppy and Melissa form an instant attachment but slowly the puppy starts taking over all of Melissa’s time and attention and leaving you behind.

Now don’t yell at me and say I turned up the angst too much, I may have gone to the extreme but stuff like this does happen, especially with dogs who were found on the street or born with anxiety and they tend to overly bond with one person.

Puppy Crazy

Warnings: lots of angst but happy ending I promise *pinky swear*

Words: 3.3k

You and Melissa stare at all the puppies at the shelter. You both have always wanted one and now you’re here to adopt one.

“Any catching your interest?” You ask her.

“That blonde one who seems to like cuddling the other.” She says and you look at the one she’s talking about.

“You want a little cuddler?” You ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Ya, that way they’ll like me cause I like cuddles too.” She says and you pout.

“I thought I was your little cuddler.” You tell her and she giggles at your response.

“You are, and there’s always room for another in the house.” She tells you and gives you a side hug.

“The blonde one is cute. What would you name her?”

“Eleanora.” She says and you look at her.

“It’s beautiful, what does it mean?” You ask, knowing her family only picks out names carefully due to their meaning.

“Shining light.” She says and you look at the little blonde cuddler and then back at her.

“It’s perfect.”

The person at the shelter goes and picks up the blonde miniature poodle puppy carefully and brings her out. The little puppy is a bit shy, understandable, but she lets you take her home, deeming you’re not a threat.

You stop at the pet store though and little Elea (her first nickname) was so excited. She met a few other dogs there and she attempted to play with them, a couple of them played with her. You got her a collar that fit and a name tag, you got a leash for her as well. You brought her down the toy aisle and Elea picked out a bunch, pretty much whatever she grabbed or pawed at you put in the cart. She helped pick out her new beds, although you drew a line at the ones that were meant for large dogs as you doubt Elea will be more than 15 pounds. You then got her food, food bowls, a toy basket and treats. You also bought a thing of pee pads as she isn’t housebroken yet as she’s 10 weeks old and some poo bags.

Elea stayed on your lap, cautiously, for most of the ride home. It was a nice day so you ended up putting the window down at red lights and she stuck her little nose out and she started sniffing the air.

Once you enter your home, Elea stayed near you or Melissa as it was a space she didn’t know. You guys got to work and you put out her food and water bowl, you filled the water bowl first. The worker at the shelter said she’ll need to eat as she’ll be skipping her dinner time, so you also filled her kibble bowl. Elea munched on her puppy kibble happily as you and Melissa got her things set up. You put the toy basket beside the couch and put most of the toys in there and brought the rest upstairs. You put the leash near the door with your keys and you put her name tag on the collar. You put the treats and kibble in the pantry, and you put 2 beds downstairs, one in the living room and one in the dining room, and the third one upstairs in your bedroom. You then placed a couple pee pads around but knew you’d put them down where she decides to pee later on.

Once Elea finished eating, she started sniffing around and found her toys and pulled most of them out. Melissa found the sight so cute as her little tail was wagging the whole time. Melissa got on her knees and stuck her hand out and Elea came up slowly and sniffed her hand before giving little nibbles on her hand to play with her. Melissa took a toy and started moving it around the floor and Elea chased it around. You couldn’t tear them apart so you made dinner instead. When dinner was ready, Melissa came in holding Elea in her arms and she was fast asleep.

“Aw. That’s so cute.” You whispered.

Halfway through dinner, Elea woke up and Melissa put her down as she got a burst of energy. You both ended up playing with her for most of the evening, although she seemed to go more towards Melissa.

At nighttime, Melissa carried her up the stairs as she got too scared to do it herself, and Melissa put her on the floor at the top and Elea explored the upstairs while you two got ready for bed. When you were ready, you called Elea but she didn’t come, Melissa called her and this time she came.

“That’s favouritism.” You complained and crossed your arms and Melissa giggled.

“Oh Amore, don’t hate me because she likes me more. You’ll always be my favourite human.” She tells you and you glare at her then get into the bed. Melissa ends up bringing Elea into the bed and you roll your eyes. Honestly you would do the same. Melissa spooned you and she whispered that Elea is cuddled into her back and you let out a little “aw”. She may prefer your wife but she’s too cute to hate.

The next day, Elea jumped in the shower with you two and then immediately jumped out and let out little puppy barks and ran around the bedroom until you got out. When Melissa was cooking breakfast, you filled Elea’s food bowl with some kibble and she inhaled her kibble. When she was done she went over to the dining table where you were eating and she sat down between you two and begged but mostly looked at Melissa. Melissa did end up caving and put a piece aside for her to which she put her bowl when she was finished.

After you decided to go for a walk with Elea. You and Melissa were both teachers but it was the beginning of summer break so you could stay at home and train and bond with Elea. Melissa ended up holding the leash and brought a couple treats to give to Elea and you held on to the poo bags. One Elea peed outside, Melissa pet her and gave her a treat right away. Elea wagged her tail when Melissa was petting her and swatted her little paws around as she hasn’t grown into them yet. She got on her back when her and Melissa were playing and she kept pawing at Melissa and giving her playful puppy nibbles. To which you took a bunch of pictures. You got her less than 24 hours ago and you already have 30 pictures of Elea on your phone, you realised that’s more than you took of Melissa when you were dating her for 4 years. But you shrug it off, I mean it’s probably accurate for all animal owners.

When you got home from the walk, Melissa carried Elea in her arms while she was sleep and went to sit on the couch. You brought Melissa a cup of water to which she thanked you for and drank the whole thing. 20 minutes later, Elea woke up and bounced out of Melissa’s arms and on to the couch. She got down after 2 minutes of trying and ended up slipping off the couch but Melissa congratulated her either way. Elea walked around and decided to drink some water then pulled the majority of toys out of her basket that you put away last night and you groaned.

“Why bother with a toy basket or putting them away.” You complained and Melissa laughed and came up to hug you. Elea saw you two hug and wanted in on it too. Melissa of course complied and went and picked her up, then you three had a little family hug. During the hug Elea licked you both on the face and you both laughed. You both played and ran around with Elea for most of the day. You then fed Elea her dinner kibble while Melissa got dinner ready.

“You fed her so many treats today, I’m surprised she still has room.” You told Melissa and she just shrugs.

“She’s a growing puppy, she needs to eat.” Melissa says and you laugh.

“I love you, you know. Never change.” You tell her and you wrap your arms around her waist.

“I don’t plan too Amore. And I love you too.” She tells you then turns around and gives you a quick kiss on the lips then finishes getting dinner ready.

And just like at breakfast, Elea begs, at Melissa mostly, for some human food, and again, Melissa caves and gives her the piece when finished in her food bowl.

After dinner, you both settle on the couch and Melissa picks Elea up when she whines and you put on a Disney movie. You chose the little mermaid and you kept glancing over at Melissa petting Elea’s head while Elea nuzzles her head in Melissa’s lap and falls asleep. You lean your head on Melissa’s shoulder and she wraps an arm around you. Halfway through the movie, Elea wakes up and starts barking. You pause the movie and get her leash to take her out. You take Elea out as Melissa did it before supper and she does her pees. You bring her back in and she goes right to Melissa to get picked up again, which Melissa does and she goes and falls asleep on her lap with Melissa scratching her head.

The rest of the month goes like this, and you end up bringing her to puppy class and teach her some commands, go to a dog park to introduce her to other dogs and introduce her to some family members that you’ll see multiple times a year.

Melissa and Elea end up spending a lot of time together and while it shouldn’t bother you, it is taking a lot of your Melissa time away. You knew you wouldn’t spend as much time with Melissa when you get a puppy but Elea is demanding ALL of Melissa’s attention and it’s started to make you a little jealous. Like you couldn’t have sex without Elea demanding Melissa’s attention. You’re starting to think that dog just wants Melissa away from you, cause maybe she doesn’t like you.

Like when you’re having sex, at the beginning, when Melissa is kissing your neck, Elea comes over on the bed and starts biting Melissa’s hair and doing her little puppy barks. Melissa eventually gives in and gives her attention to Elea and you end up having to use the vibrator.

It was cute at first but not being able to touch your wife, like sometimes not even a nice long kiss of like 10 seconds. Cause everytime you do, Elea comes over and gets Melissa’s attention. You’ve tried to get Elea to like you more but her and Melissa bonded exceptionally quick and you don’t know why.

Melissa thinks it’s funny when you complain that Elea is getting all her attention, everytime you bring it up.

“I swear it’s like she doesn’t even like me and is just separating us. Like she gets all your attention and I get the scrapes.” You complained one night and she just brought you to lean on her shoulder while Elea laid on her lap. Melissa rubbed your arm while she scratched Elea’s head. She loves her 2 girls, y/n and Elea and she wouldn’t change it a thing.

“Y/n, if you think about it, Elea went through a lot. She ended up at the shelter cause she was found on the street. When she was like 3 weeks old and spent 7 weeks at that shelter. Then she comes home with us and everything is new. She just bonded to one of us and wants comfort to help soothe her.” Melissa explains and you take a deep breath.

“I know, you’re right, it’s just a little annoying right now cause I can barely touch my wife, without little sunshine here interrupting us. And you always give her the attention.” You say and cross your arms. “Like I wanted a puppy too and I barely get time with either of you individually.” You say and before Melissa can say anything, Elea gets up and starts barking and Melissa gets up to take her outside as it’s her turn. You huff as Melissa carries Elea downstairs then outside.

When Melissa gets back, you’re asleep so she just climbs into bed with Elea, puts Elea in front of you, turns off the light and cuddles you. She sees Elea go to nuzzle her head into you and you unconsciously move your arm and she climbs underneath. Melissa smiles then falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up and Elea is underneath your arm and Melissa on your back and for a second you think you’re dreaming. You then fully wake up and realise that it’s real. For one, Elea and Melissa stayed apart and two, Elea is cuddling you instead of Melissa.

“I told you she likes you.” Melissa says quietly and you smile.

And as if knowing you’re awake, Elea wakes up and demands to be taken outside.

“I’ll take this one while you wake up.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Thank you.” You tell her and she picks Elea up who wags her little tail.

Another month goes by and it’s more or less the same, Elea cuddles and plays with you sometimes but still is overly bonded to Melissa. It’s starting to really frustrate you and you’ve ended up starting fights with Melissa to which you apologise to her later, and she always forgives you.

Melissa does start to clue in that Elea is taking a lot of her attention away from her wife but can never say no to those sad little puppy eyes.

When school starts back up, Melissa spends 10 minutes saying goodbye to Elea while you wait in the car on your phone. She finally leaves when you threaten to drive there without her, even though she knows you won’t. Due to barely being able to be physical with your wife or any physical touch, any kisses at school dropped drama from last year and even the Abbott crew notices and questions you about it at the end of the week.

“Melissa has a new wife now.” You grumble out and they all look at you confused.

“She’s talking about the puppy and she’s gotten a little jealous that Elea prefers spending time with me.” Melissa explains and they all have their mouths shaped in an ‘O’ form.

“That’s not what I’m angry about and you know it. I’m angry because she takes away all your time, I can barely kiss or hug you.” You grit at her and then you get up and walk out of the break room. You hide away in your classroom the rest of the day, you didn’t even let Melissa in when she came to check on you a few times.

Melissa was starting to get worried about you but doesn’t know what to do. So she went to Barb.

“I mean I don’t know what I should do, I mean we can’t give Elea back to the shelter because she’s our dog now and I know that no matter how angry y/n is, she’ll never agree to give her back anyway.” Melissa complains and slumps back to the wall.

“Melissa, you’re missing the point. Y/n isn’t angry she’s upset cause she feels she doesn’t have a wife anymore.” Barb states. “I’ve noticed how detached you both are from each other since you got the puppy. And I know that puppies require a lot of attention and time, y/n knows that too. But maybe you spend a little too much time on Elea.” Barb states. “Like Elea is like a child right. And sometimes you just have to let children do things themselves.” Barb explains and Melissa sighs.

“I know, I guess I got too wrapped up with Elea.” Melissa says.

“I know and I know y/n knows too. If she didn’t then she would be a lot more angry right now.” Barb says and Melissa chuckles.

Melissa plans to take you out on a date tomorrow to spend time with you but you immediately decline and Melissa frowns.

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Elea instead of me?” You tell her.

“No, I’d rather go with my wife.” She tells you and you scoff.

“Like I said, wouldn’t you rather go with Elea.” You repeat and before she can say anything else, Elea comes running in and barks to go out. “Oh look, your wife is calling you.” You tell her and go upstairs.

When Melissa returns she sits on the couch and thinks about how to change things. She gets an idea and goes upstairs to where you’re on the bed, on your phone pouting. She brings Elea up with her and she sits on the bed and puts Elea on your lap.

You refuse at first and then Elea whines for your attention and you start petting her a bit but then she nuzzles into you and she falls asleep.

“Look y/n, I’m sorry that I put all my attention on her. I didn’t notice and I was so excited about this puppy and that she bonded to me more. I guess I didn’t kinda forget about my wife. I mean we did basically only accomplish sex completely probably 4 times this summer.” She says and you glare at her.

“It was never just the sex, I mean ya it’s part of it but I would like my wife back.” You tell her and cross your arms. “You’re gonna have to start giving less attention to Elea or I might leave.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” She says. You whip your head at her and glare. You then pick Elea up and place her in Melissa’s lap then you walk out.

You end up sleeping in the guest bedroom the entire weekend, to Mel’s very reluctant begging. She even tried sneaking in during the night but you caught her and was sent back to the main bed. She then realised that nighttime is pretty much the only physical contact you two still have, cuddling at night, and you're asleep for most of it.

So she decides to make some changes. She starts putting a fluffy blanket down at the foot of the bed and Elea starts sleeping on that, while you two cuddle. She got anti anxiety beds for Elea and you two are able to have sex and cuddle on the couch. She goes on walks everyday with Elea and you, and insists you hold the leash while she has an arm around your waist. If you two are kissing and Elea barks to get Melissa’s, you at first pulled away, thinking Melissa will give her the attention but Melissa’s starts pulling you back and ignoring Elea for a bit until giving her attention.

Little by little you start to get your wife back and Elea’s overly attached bond with Melissa starts turning into a normal bond and Elea even starts bonding with you now.

By end of September, Melissa has you back in her arms, where you should be and a cute puppy with a normal relationship bond with both of you. She fully admits she went a little puppy crazy and forgot about the other important person in her life. But now she’s back to holding you in one arm while Elea is snuggling on both of you.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

Let me know if you want to be added!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

sooo I have this idea, for Sam Winchester where (gn) reader does something stupid (up 2 u) and Sam gets rlly mad and they don’t talk for a while, but Dean and them are still in contact and go on hunt together every once in a while. Sam finds out (reader gets srsly injured) and you can end it how you see fit!

-💋

.⋆｡Risks and Rewards｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

You take risks on hunts, it’s what you do but this time, the risk was greater than the reward

Warnings: gn reader, injuries, angst, arguments, hunt gone wrong, bleeding out, reader is called beautiful, mutual pining, deathbed confessions, major character death, still a happy ending tho (you’ll see)

WC: 2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I can’t believe you!” Sam’s voice partially shook the very foundation of the safe house you had just barely made it back to. “I can’t believe you would do something so fucking stupid!” His hair is sticking up in a million different directions as a combination of dried blood and utter frustration.

“If it wasn’t for what I did, you both would be dead by now!” You shouted back but winced as you pulled at the hastily done stitches on your side. Dean’s arm, which was the only thing keeping you upright, tightened around your waist.

“Can we save this for later, maybe when we’re not all exhausted and hurt?”

“No!” You and Sam retorted at the same time. 

“There were way too many fucking vamps for you to handle alone, it was easy pickings for them!” Dean attempted to guide you to the single bedroom at the back of the cabin but you shook him off with a glare. “I did what either one of you would have done in that situation.”

Sam breathed heavily through his nose, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger. “You turned yourself into bait! You had no plan, no weapons, and no backup. You’re lucky that Dean got to his machete in time.” 

“I had it handled!” Pain ricocheted through your body as you tried to stay standing without any support and you felt the hot trickle of blood leak down onto your hip. 

“You were impaled!” 

“I was fine! I had them right where I wanted them.”

“So you wanted three vamps to be practically dogpiled on top of you while you bled out?” The question was rhetorical but you answered anyway.

“Yes! Three vamps on me meant that you both only had to deal with one each. It’s basic fucking math Samuel.” 

“You fucking-“

“Alright that’s enough!” Dean finally interjected. “It’s been a long hard day and we’re all a bit wound up. We can have a more rational conversation in the morning once we’ve all gotten some rest. So Sam, go clean yourself up and I’ll get some food ready. And you-“ He turned to you with a harsh look. “-You go sit down cause it looks like you’re about to pass out.”

Sam’s jaw clenched and his eyes flicked to you but he quickly looked away. “Fine.” He grumbled and stomped off to the bathroom, his duffle bag in hand. You flinched when the door slammed shut. Dean gingerly cupped your face like a father would to their child and wiped away a tear you hadn’t noticed rolling down your cheek.

“He didn’t mean it, he just got scared.” You scoffed.

“Go make your food Dean.” You knew you were being unnecessarily harsh to your friend but you were still too angry and hurt to act rationally. He sighed and stepped back.

He pointed to the couch. “Sit, I’ll take a look at those stitches when I’m done.” But as Dean turned away to the kitchen, you didn’t go to the couch, instead you grabbed your car keys from the side table and quietly hobbled out the door.

When Sam had finally finished his shower and redressed in clean clothes, he was considerably calmer. He knew you were right, that they needed a distraction to kill all those vamps but when he saw you- metal pipe through your side with three huge vampires trying to get a bite at you, his heart stopped. 

Sighing, he looked at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. Your blood that had covered his hands was washed away but he could still feel it staining his skin. He had been on the edge of tears as he stitched you up in the back seat of his brother’s car but those tears had evaporated into anger when you doubled down on your actions.

You were reckless and stupid and gone.

Sam stepped back into the main room of the cabin and immediately noticed there was one less person. The wide open door to the bedroom showed that it was empty and with Dean in the kitchen, there was nowhere else you could be. “Dean, where are they?”

His brother immediately froze, gaze darting to the couch before looking out the window and seeing that your car was conveniently gone. “Son of a bitch.”

——————

It was the silence that was killing you. You could hear everything, the few animals that scurried around in the forest that surrounded you, the wind rustling the leaves in the branches overhead, the sound of your blood as it poured from the huge slash in your abdomen.

You knew no help was coming because you were alone.

You couldn’t feel the pain anymore and you supposed you were grateful for that. “At least it’s a clear night.” You murmured to yourself as you turned your gaze upwards to look at the stars. It was dumb to go hunt a wendigo alone but you were still mad and you had a point to prove. Although, since you hadn’t talked to him in nearly three months, Sam wouldn’t actually know that you won the argument but it was enough for you to prove him wrong without him knowing.

But now, now you want to be wrong. You would give anything to hear his voice just one more time, even if it was because he was yelling at you. 

It took all of your remaining strength to reach into your pocket for your phone, praying that it wasn’t cracked as you switched it back on. The bright screen illuminated your face. There was a text from Dean and one from Garth that obscured the photo in the background, the photo of you and your boys at the Grand Canyon.

With trembling fingers, you scrolled to Sam’s contact, his name surrounded by childish hearts like you were a middle schooler with a crush. His photo was one you took in secret, a candid shot of him reading a massive book. He was hunched over and his brown hair uncombed but his eyes shone in the dim light of the Bunker’s library. You hesitated over the call button.

The ringing of your phone overpowered all other sounds in the forest and you were grateful for the reprieve from the quiet. “Sam’s phone.” Dean’s voice echoed through the small clearing, slightly broken and muffled because of the poor cell service.

“Hey Dee.” You smiled, biting back a whimper of pain as you spoke. 

“Hey kid! It’s been a minute, you ok?” There was a brief pause as you summoned up the courage to lie to one of your closest friends.

“Yeah- yeah I’m good. Do you think you could get Sam for me? I wanted to talk to him.” 

“Course. Hey Sammy, phone for you!” Dean shouted and you could vaguely hear Sam yelling back at him ‘stop answering my phone jerk!’. There was a brief scuffle and then a new voice, one that immediately soothed the burn of your injuries and set your soul at ease.

“Hi.” He said as Dean retorted with a fond ‘bitch’. There was a thud and then the line went quiet for a second. “Sorry, you know how Dean is.”

You chuckled and blood dripped down from the corner of your lips. “Yeah I do.” There was a beat, an awkward silence falling over you. “Hey Sam-“

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted you. “You were right, and I’m sorry for yelling at you, you just really scared me. I don’t want to lose you, I lo-,” his voice became thick and he cleared his throat, “You’re important to me and I want to keep you safe.”

Your eyelids fluttered as tears began to build along your waterline. “I’m sorry too, I was being reckless, I just thought it was our best bet.” You tried to readjust your body on the cold ground but hissed as pain exploded through your stomach.

“Are you- fuck are you hurt?” The panic in Sam’s voice was like being doused in cold water. Suddenly the blissful fog you were floating in, that was undoubtedly shock, drifted away and everything crashed back into you.

“No no I’m fine.” You attempted to calmly reply but it came out as more of a sob. 

“Where are you?” You could hear the jingling of keys and thundering footsteps. You laughed tearfully.

“Nowhere you could get to in time. Just talk to me please, I want to hear your voice one more time.” The sounds stopped but he didn’t speak again. “Please Sam, do this one last thing for me.” 

He took in a shuddery breath. “Don’t do this. Tell me where you are.” His voice wavered and you knew he was close to tears.

“Sam-“

“Tell me.” 

“You fucker.” You huffed. “Montana, Custer National Park. Don’t know my exact coordinates.” Your legs were cold, far colder than they should have been considering it was August.

“Keep talking to me.” He spoke into the phone and then turned and yelled into the Bunker, calling for his brother and Cas. “C’mon let me hear your beautiful voice.”

“You think my voice is beautiful?” Your heart jumped even as you felt it slowing down.

“I think all of you is beautiful.” Tears rolled down your temples, wetting the dirt beneath your head. You sniffled and clutched your phone even tighter.

“You’re beautiful too. Most beautiful man 've ever met.” Your words started to slur together but you kept talking, just like he asked. You would do anything he asked. “Got those big hazel eyes nd nice hair. Never told you but you made me nervous when we first met. You were so big and you were frowning but then you smiled and I knew.”

“What did you know?” You smiled.

“I knew that I was gonna fall in love with you. And I did. Sam-“

“No. No.” He cut you off again. “You don’t get to tell me that, not now. Not when I’m not there with you to tell you that I feel the same. You can say it when we get you home safe.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna last that long.”

“You will.” He firmly replied. “You have to.”

“Ok, then I won’t tell you how meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me and I also won’t say that you became my home.” Blackness curled around the end of your vision, and the stars slowly began to disappear. “Why can’t I see the stars anymore?”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Sam screamed but his voice began to fade away as the darkness settled over you.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Your eyes shut as a bright light appeared before you.

——————

The first thing Sam was aware of was the smell of pine. It was so achingly nostalgic, he couldn’t help but smile. The raging river beneath his feet provided just enough ambient sound to disguise the familiar purr of an engine.

“You certainly took your time getting here Winchester.”

You looked just like he remembered you, from your hair down to the smallest details on your skin. Dean stood next to you, arm thrown over your shoulder as he laughed.

“He was always the slow one.” Sam just smiled and embraced his older brother, holding him as tightly as he could. Dean cupped the back of his head before letting him go with a teary smile. “You did it Sammy.”

They pulled away from each other and Dean gestured to you. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for a long time.” 

Sam approached you slowly, his smile growing wider with each step. You looked away bashfully. “I know we didn’t end off on a great note and my death was ever so slightly dramatic so you can be mad at me all you want.”

His big hands cupped your wide hips, pulling your attention back to him. “Tell me.” Your eyes sparkled under the setting sun.

“I love you Sam.” And as he kissed you for the first time, everything clicked into place and you both realised that maybe the risk of hunting was definitely worth the reward.

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[skinnywalker]

Professional protector (Aaron Hotchner x nanny! male reader)

It's become a slight problem. Most nights it Hotch was late. Some he wasn't home at all and babysitters were only so reliable.

"You're really using Garica to get a other new babysitter?"

"I'm not trust random teens with my boy."

Emily rolls her eyes and pulls away the file of potential names.

"Can't you just hire a full time?"

Hotch groans.

"Same problem."

"Well it's either a once time issue or a till-jack-is-grown issue so make up you mind."

She's right of course, he needs to just bite the bullet.

After nearly an hour of barely scrapable options Hotch's attention was caught by a face.

Young, clean cut, handsome and with a bakround in child care. He gives Hocth a strange stomach twist, the kind he felt in high-school when he meet Harley. That same at once connection.

"Is he free?"

"Looks like it. Says on his employee web page he is open for full weekdays."

"Send that to me would you?"

Garcia can't help the small grin that crosses her lips.

"At once my lord."

From his nightstand the buzz of that familiar notification sounds him awake.

Clients.

He checks the profile his boss Diane always sends but this one is different than normal. He is used to business men who don't have time for their children but the man is an FBI agent and high in ranks too.

Doesn't look half bad either.

"How much is the pay?

"60 an hour."

He stops dead in his track.

"60? For one child and house sitting?"

"Ahuh. He asked me if that was too low."

"Too low?!"

She smiled at him with a gleam I her eyes.

"He really wanted you specifically."

Hotch keep glancing at his watch. He wasn't late but Hotch was nervous he might be.

"Excuse are you Mr. Hotchner?"

He's pretty in person Hotch thinks. More real. More warm. He's bright-looking but not cocky. Fair featured but no vain. He could reach out his hand and Hotch would near before him to kiss it without even thinking.

"Yes, you must be the nanny."

"Ahuh. Would you like to go over the details of what you need me to do while your away?"

Hotch smiles. He has no clue why but it feels natural.

"Of course."

Hotch leads him through the house explain everything he needs from the house care side of things.

"-and if you can't try to fold the blankets to fit in properly I'd be really thankful."

"Of course. What about your son?"

"Jack spends most of the day at school. He still in k-8 and does sometimes need homework help. He can make his own food but often prefers it made. He has 2-3 hours of screen time weekdays and 4 on weekends. He'll want to call me when I'm out of town which you can also do if you need anything."

He nods. Simple kid.

"He always wants to come along on grocery trips and basically anytime you leave the house."

Hotch hands him the house keys.

"And most importantly he'll ask for want he wants and his bedtime is 8:30."

"Got it. I call you at night if I have questions."

"Daddy?"

The two turn to see a sleepy toddler standing in door way. His spider-man pj's frumbled from napping.

"Hey Jack buddy, this is your new babysitter. He'll be here all day till I come back in the evenings so you don't have to be alone at home."

Jack looks up. Hotch feels the two smiling at eachother. His heart is aching know Jack is already bonding with the nanny. This have been a good idea.

"I have to go home today Jack but I'll see you again tomorrow ok?"

"Ok! Can we play with my Lego pirates."

"We can play whatever you want to Jack."

Hotch loves that smile on Jack. The innocent love. His boy is safe.

"Hotch? We have an emergency."

"What is it J.J.?"

"Ten victims all male in their 20s and the unsub is moving."

"I'll be there in ten mintues."

Hotch's body knows the routine of his morning work runs so well it work on autopilot.

Lastly he kisses Jack's sleeping head and text his new nanny 8 words.

"Flying for work for at least a week."

He'll get what I mean Hotch thinks before he stops himself. Why is he so sure? He doesn't even know the guy and he is trusting him like an old friend already. That's not good but Hotch can't seem to stop himself. He doesn't trust easily but something about him is so safe. So at home at ease. Hotch hates how his walls are just gone the moment he met a pretty man who takes care of his son. Hotch hopes he'll stay.

"He's targeting men who seem successful in love. Men with kids and partners and well paying jobs. Young man living how he wants to live. And he does it through robbery and hold ups. He is choosing targets on the fly."

"Where do we thinking he is making his way to?"

"Maybe his home or his get away car. I don't think he can keep this up for too long and I know he thinks that too."

At the hotel Hotch picks up his nightly call.

"How's your nanny been buddy?"

"I love daddy! He is super smart and he knew all about the history for my test on Tuesday and he makes such good pasta and he read me all the books I have trouble with!"

Hotch feel his stomach twist again. Just like a dad.

"That's great buddy. I'm glad you like him so much."

"He is gonna be my new best friend."

"I'm sure he will sweets now you need to good to bed."

"Ok, Goodnight daddy."

"Sleepwell Buddy. I love you."

"Love you too!"

He's safe. He's for the first time Hotch feels confident in thinking that Jack is really safe and happy. He sleeps better that night then he has in a while.

"Unsub is now in Virginia and he's getting risky. Going straight for our home now. He might even be there at this moment."

"So we came out here just to go home?"

"No, we came out here to know for certain he is home. Let's go."

Jack had asked to come along to the Cafe. He had followed his nanny to the counter and was rewarded with a small pink lemonade.

"Have you ever tried limeade or just lemon?"

He shakes his head no.

"Never liked lime. Too sour."

He chuckles.

"I like a lot of sour things especially ones that have some sweet in them."

"Everyone get on the floor! This is a hold up and if everyone behaves no one will get hurt."

Jack looks up confused and then frighten.

"Nanny?"

"Comere Jack. Everything will be alright."

"We've tracked him to a Cafe he's holding up. Swat is on their way but we don't time on our side."

"How fast can we get there?"

"20."

"20 is not fast enough."

"You, with the blonde kid. Move up here."

His arms wrap around Jack and gently lead them both to the front.

"Give him to me."

"No."

His breathing hitches.

"I'm not letting you near him. You'll have to take me first."

The click of the handriffle echoed in his ears before he felt the the world go black.

When the room came back into focus he realized he was in the ER. His chest was burning. He could feel the dizziness bringing him in and out of blurry awareness.

"Hey, just rest, you're really injured."

"Jack.. what about Jack?"

"He's safe with his father."

A knock at the door interrupts them.

"Hello Doctor is it OK for me to see him?"

"Mr. Hotch? Is that you?"

Hotch leans over the hospital bed brush some hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

"Worse than shot?"

He giggled even though it hurt.

"Yeah. I'm better knowing Jack is safe."

"He was really scared for you, so was I. You don't know how much it means to me that you put yourself in such danger for my boy."

"I'd do it again."

Hotch felt strange. On one hand he was deeply relieved that he was safe but such a close call had his nerves in a twist. It was like a weight had been added to his psyche. Hotch couldn't let anything happen to him. He felt protective.

"How is he?"

"Exhausted but ok."

"Hotch I know he is just your nanny but you seem pretty worried."

"I can't help but be. He nearly died keeping Jack safe. I don't know what could've happened if I hired someone less bare. This whole time I've felt so.... connected with him. Like he is someone who I can trust."

"Does Agent Aaron Hotchner have a slight crush."

Oh no.

[riality-check]

platonic hellcheer coparenting part 6! part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Chrissy flattens out her skirt and tries to breathe. She shouldn’t be so nervous, standing on the front steps of a home she’s never been to. She can’t even blame her shaking on the cold; it may be the time in March when it’s still blustery and threatening snow, but her thermal tights and sweater do their job well.

(Soon, neither of those will fit. Chrissy tries not to think about that. She knows what happens once she starts down that road, and it’s never good.)

No, her shaking is exclusively due to nerves, and she’s perfectly justified in feeling this way.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Eddie says, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“That’s crap, and you know it.”

“No, I know that there’s nothing to be nervous about. So long as you still want to do this.”

He fishes his keys out of his pocket. How he manages to find anything on that cluttered mess of keychains and cards and multiple lanyards, for some reason, Chrissy will never know, but it’s another quirk that makes Eddie, Eddie.

It hasn’t been very long at all, but she’s finding, so far, that she really likes him. Not that she’s ever pictured it before it happened, but she can’t imagine being in this situation with anyone else at her side.

He doesn’t put his keys in the door. He just looks at her, eyes a little wide.

“You do still want to do this, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t-”

“Eddie,” she says. “Just because I don’t want to tell my parents-”

Just because I haven’t talked to them in years, she doesn’t say.

“-doesn’t mean we can’t tell your uncle.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Eddie,” she says again. “You’re allowed to want things out of this, too. Okay?”

He smiles. It’s different from the broad, mocking grins she remembers him having in high school. It’s small and almost secret, like he didn’t even realize it made its way onto his face.

She wishes, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that she could love him like that. It sure would make life a lot easier.

But, Chrissy supposes, I don’t think easy is in the cards.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and he turns the key into the lock. The door creaks open, swinging inside and Chrissy can feel the heat of the house bleed out, just a little bit.

“Wayne!” he calls. “I’m home!”

He takes a step in, motioning for Chrissy to follow.

She does because what else is she supposed to do?

“Living room,” Mr. Munson calls back.

Eddie takes her inside to a cozy home. Straight ahead is a small kitchen with a little table and two chairs. To her left, a coat rack and a hallway. To her right, the living room.

Mr. Munson sits on a recliner. There’s a still-smoking cigarette in the ashtray to his right, and there’s a basketball game on the TV. Chrissy notes idly that the Pacers are losing.

Minus the ashtray, and if the TV were in HD, it could be Chrissy’s living room. The one at her parents’ house. Almost. It’s a little smaller, and the hats on the walls - that’s a lot of hats - make it feel… different.

Better.

Chrissy has been in this house for thirty seconds and already likes it better than the one she grew up in.

She wonders what her mother would say about her being in the trailer park. She finds that she really couldn’t care less, and she’s ecstatic about that fact.

Eddie grabs her hand. Squeezes once. Leads her into the living room.

They sit side by side on the little loveseat parked against the wall. Chrissy almost knocks her knee into Eddie’s, just for a little reassurance, but keeps herself from doing that.

She’s not really sure why.

She gets a good look at Eddie’s uncle this way, though. He’s an average-sized guy, bald, probably in his fifties. He has hard features and keys dangling from his hand and, most startlingly, really blue eyes.

Like, really blue.

She expected them to be more like Eddie’s. It shouldn’t be so much of a surprise - Eddie hasn’t told her too much about his uncle, nothing beyond the fact that he raised him and that he’s living with him again since he came back to Hawkins - but it is.

“How was your day?” Eddie asks.

Mr. Munson turns to the two of them. If he’s surprised to see Chrissy, he doesn’t show it. His face stays perfectly neutral, and his eyes give away nothing.

“Slow,” he says after a minute. “Got some good sleep. Little pissed that my team’s losing. About to head in to work in about an hour. Who’s she?”

He asks the question with the same inflection that he uses to report on his day, so it takes Chrissy a moment to realize that he asked a question.

“Chrissy Cunningham, sir,” she says. She stands up and holds out her hand to shake.

Mr. Munson stares up at her, and his eyes widen just a little bit. Chrissy thinks, though she doesn’t know what it could possibly be, that she’s done something wrong.

But then the corner of his mouth turns up, just a bit, and he stands slowly, taking her hand and giving it a good, firm shake.

“You don’t need to call me sir,” he says, and yeah, there’s definitely an accent of some kind. Southern, but not quite. Chrissy wonders why Eddie doesn’t have it.

“Sorry, Mr. Munson,” she says.

He wrinkles his nose and huffs out a little laugh. “Wayne is just fine. Mr. Munson makes me feel old.”

“You are old,” Eddie says from the couch.

“And you’re a brat,” Mr. Mun - no, Wayne - says, finally letting go of Chrissy’s hand. He says it lightly, like it doesn’t mean anything.

In what used to be Chrissy’s house, that would have meant a lot.

But Eddie laughs, and Wayne smiles, and Chrissy thinks, again, that this house is very different from the one she grew up in.

She sits back down next to Eddie. He knocks his knee into hers, and she knocks it back.

Wayne looks at them, amused. “You his girlfriend, Chrissy?”

“No,” the two of them say in perfect synchronization.

“You sure?” Wayne asks, eyebrows raised, clearly not believing them at all.

“I’m gay, Wayne,” Eddie says. Which. While that’s true, that’s definitely a route to take this conversation.

If Chrissy said that… well. She doesn’t know how that would have gone, specifically. Definitely not well. Maybe to church. Definitely to a therapist, but only one that would have agreed with her mother.

“Okay,” Wayne says with a shrug.

Eddie doesn’t even sigh with relief or do anything of the sort. Chrissy is getting more confused by the second.

“Did you know that?” Wayne asks Chrissy, and it takes her a moment to realize that he’s cracking a joke.

She takes a breath, then says, “Yeah, and I’m a lesbian.”

It feels good to say it out loud. Maybe even better saying it the second time.

Eddie knocks his knee into hers again. She knocks his back.

Wayne snorts. “Okay. Got all of Hawkins’s gay population in this trailer, with us three queers.”

That definitely explains his reactions, then.

Eddie chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“I got a feelin’ that’s not what you wanted to tell me, though,” Wayne says.

Chrissy does the slightly cowardly thing and turns to Eddie, who looks like he’s thinking really hard.

Whatever he comes up with has to be better than what she has, which is nothing.

“Wayne, remember how you’ve always wanted grandkids?” Eddie says.

Chrissy stands corrected.

“Somethin’ tells me that’s a lot less likely now,” Wayne says.

“Yeah, well. Less likely doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”

Chrissy wants to sink into the couch and never be seen again.

“What?” Wayne asks.

“Surprise,” Eddie says weakly. “One grandkid, due in November.”

Wayne turns to Chrissy. “Is he bullshitting me?”

“No, sir,” she says.

“You can drop the sir,” Wayne corrects, almost like it’s habit.

He turns back to both of them. “Do I want to know how-”

“No,” they say in unison.

Wayne nods like he was expecting that.

“You better get used to being called Grampa, because it’ll happen before you know it,” Eddie says.

Wayne smiles, for real this time. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you don’t already know,” Eddie says, but he gets up and hugs Wayne bone-crushingly tight. Wayne hugs back just as tight.

Chrissy stays on the couch, watching. The ache she thought she’d feel isn’t that bad. It’s bearable. It’s there, a low thrum deep in her chest, but it doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Chrissy, get over here,” Wayne says.

“What?” she says.

“Get over here,” he says. “You’re family.”

“But we’re not-”

“You’re family,” Wayne says seriously.

“Chrissy, get in before he comes over there,” Eddie warns, but that’s lighthearted, too. 

Chrissy stands up and lets herself be hugged by the two of them. She could get used to family being light.

And, she realizes, I’m gonna make sure mine will be light, too.

[streetlightyeri]

Would you ever write for Scott from twisters?

I am in the midst of writing something for him! I have three fics in the works (part 2 for tyler, the main fic that "false god" fits in for boone, and one for scott). they're all based off of Zach Bryan songs.

I just feel like everything I'm writing sounds like I'm illiterate. It's very hard for me to write things that don't have extensive backstories (ig that's what a masters degree in creative writing does to a person lol), so I have to actively fight myself to not write 100 pages of fanfiction about a side character that gets 10 minutes of screen time bc literally no one would read that. for reference of how inane I am when I write: I am currently searching academic sources to get an understanding of sound wave acoustics bc I've decided one of my characters will have a PhD in it - like what is my problem, this is a movie about TORNADOES. anyway lol here's a little sneak peek for the Scott fic. very rough - hasn't been proof read even once. <3

“ASPEN!” It felt like the world was spinning around him, as though he was the center of the tornado. He had his hat clenched in his hand. He felt his lunch fighting to come up. All around him was destruction with a death toll of 14 and climbing. If she was one of them, he wouldn’t know what he would do. He had searched every same piece of rubble that was once her grandmother’s house and had no luck.

Javi walked up to the Tornado Wrangler crew with arms extended in a gesture that one would use when approaching a bull. “I understand you do not want to see me, but trust me, we are not working these people.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Scott scouring what he could only imagine was the remnants of her room for the 3rd time. He pulled his phone and swiped to the photo Scott shared with him. He turned it to the group. “Have you seen this girl?”

Tyler blinked a moment too long and a tanned girl with cropped hair swallowed harshly. Dani was her name, if Javi remembered correctly. She stepped away from the table where she was handing out food and pulled Javi to the side. “It’s bad. I found her in that flipped StormPar truck pinned to the seat by an old iron post through the chest. It didn’t seem like she was trying to take cover, more like she was trying to grab something because this was in her hand.”

Dani handed him a hunk of plastic that would’ve seemed like nothing to someone else. But Javi knew: this was the StormPar data. She could very well be dead, all because she didn’t want Scott to lose everything from the Par.

“It . . . I thought she was dead, her breathing was so shallow. I’m a trained EMT, so I almost called it. Anyone else would have. But she twitched, so I investigated some more. I had to trach her to keep the stress off her heart. Tyler and I put her in an ambulance with the post still in about 20 minutes ago.”

Javi turned to run to get Scott, but Dani’s hand gripped his upper arm, forcing him to turn back to her.

She leveled her eyes with his, steeling her voice. “I can guess who she is to him. She may not have even made it to the hospital. Her breathing depends on how well the EMTs can bag her. What he sees may scar him. He may be identifying her. Make sure he is prepared. Do not give him false hope.”

Javi gave one strong nod. “Thank you.” He glanced at the rest of the group who pretended to not be listening. “Y’all are good people.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and let him go, watching as he ran to Scott who had screamed himself hoarse. Javi slipped the data pack into his back pocket; the reason she was in that truck was not something he was going to be telling Scott, at least not at that time. Javi tried to explain everything else, but the second the word ambulance came out of Javi’s mouth, Scott was running for the truck. Javi had to tackle him against the door and take the keys from him. “You are not stable enough to drive.”

Scott would’ve argued any other time, but every second he spent outside the vehicle was one where he could be on the way to see her. He complied, climbing into the passenger seat.

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

It was another beautiful summer day and Steve had taken the Chevy out for a drive. With the windows rolled down, he drove out to a country road listening to Hopper’s Johnny Cash tape. He had spoken to Hopper about borrowing the car and after a quick trip together to make sure Steve remembered how to drive, he had given the green light. There was a moment before he handed Steve the keys where he was sure Hopper thought he would never see him again. He didn’t really know what to do with the trust – that even though the thought crossed his mind that Steve might run, might take his car and go – Hopper gave him the keys anyway. It was a good feeling, knowing that he could take the car and leave if he needed to. Today, he needed to.

It was strange having Johnathan and Argyle in the house. They were generally very quiet but Steve still found his carefully crafted peace disturbed. They were two more people who asked questions, who he had to dance around and avoid. Argyle kept offering him weed, which seemed like the best and worse idea imaginable. Steve couldn’t deny that he was tempted but the fear of a panic attack always held him off. Johnathan didn’t talk much, which he was grateful for. He was much more reserved than the Johnathon Steve had known and he was unsure what to make of him. The feeling seemed mutual – he caught Johnathan staring at him a few times.

Nancy had only stayed long enough that first night to see Steve before heading home with the promise that she would be back soon. She had pulled him into a tight hug before she left, his frigid stance not dissuading her. Her scent had engulfed him – had overwhelmed him with memories and fondness – reminding him of first kisses and falling in love, of heartbreak and moving on. Her and Johnathan had fit so much better and Steve couldn’t be bitter when they realized it. They had tried to hide it from him at first, like he wouldn’t be able to tell when two of his best friends started dating. He could be oblivious, but not that oblivious.

The country road continued in front of him for miles, the music was loud and the wind blew his hair wildly around his face. He could keep driving, keep going until he found a place that didn’t know the name Steve Harrington. Start over fresh. It was his original plan to leave once he was well enough, prepared enough. But the thought wasn’t as enticing as it once was. His stomach rumbled and he was surprised to see the clock read almost 1:00 p.m. He did a quick U-turn and started the drive back home.

Home…?

He didn’t know when he started to consider the Hopper-Byers’ house home. They were all just so good to him. Too good. Hopper and Joyce were understanding, Will and Eleven were easy to be around and kind. The only thing Steve had to really compare it too was Eds’ and Wayne’s trailer. They both had the same warmth, the same feeling that Steve always found difficult to describe – the easy comfort of a safe place where he was loved, welcome, wanted – home, he now considered.

When he pulled up to the house, Joyce’s car was gone and so were Will’s and Eleven’s bikes. He wasn’t sure who would be home when he walked in the door. He heard banging and muttering coming from the kitchen when he walked past so he peered in to see who it was. Argyle had his head in the freezer and was digging around. If his muttering was anything to go by, he wasn’t finding what he wanted. He hadn’t noticed Steve standing in the doorway yet; he could still leave and Argyle wouldn’t know. But this was his home, and Argyle was looking for something.

“Hey, what are you looking for?” Steve asked as he walked into the room.

“Steve!” Argyle exclaimed as he pulled his head out of the freezer. “Where does Joyce keep her dough? I want to make a pizza. I found everything else I need, but no dough.”

Steve scrunched his face in confusion. Why would he be looking for dough in the freezer?

“She has flour and yeast in the cupboard,” he said pointing across the room.

“Flour is not going to cut it, my dude. I am looking for some premium premade dough balls.”

“Didn’t you make your own dough at Surfer Boy?”

“Of course! Trent always went in early to prepare a bunch and freeze it for the day. I was the toppings man… not the dough man.”

Steve smiled and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing out the flour, yeast, and sugar before turning back to Argyle. “Well, I guess today you get to be both.”

Steve set to work mixing the ingredients into a large bowl as Argyle watched intently. They settled into a routine as Steve explained the process. There were a few moments where they had to wait for it to rest or rise that Steve was afraid would turn awkward but Argyle was good at keeping up a mostly one-sided conversation. When it was ready, Argyle took over and started flipping the dough above his head like a true professional.

“What do you like on your pie, Steve?”

He shrugged. “I’m not picky, I’ll eat whatever you put on yours.”

Argyle tsked at him and wagged a finger in his face after he slapped the now rounded dough on the counter. “No can do my dude, of course you can try a slice of my delicious pineapple fiesta but you gotta have your own, too.” Argyle spread his hands out in front of the toppings he had pulled out like he was a game show host showing off the prizes. “What appeals to your current mood and hunger?”

“Mushrooms, onions, and…” Steve looked at the available options and pursed his lips in thought, “ham.”

Argyle nodded enthusiastically and smiled wide. “Good choices, a well-rounded pie.”

Steve started cleaning up while Argyle put his toppings on one side of the pizza and Steve’s on the other and then popped it in the oven. Nothing to do now but wait for it to be ready but Steve didn’t know how to politely excuse himself. Argyle just kept smiling at him and nodding slowly.

“Thanks for the help, you’d make a fine dough boy my dimension hopping buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll keep that in mind for when I decide on my future career plans.”

Argyle nodded sagely and then asked, “does it feel weird?” 

Steve blinked at him, having no clue what the hell that question meant. “Does what feel weird?”

“Being outside your dimension or universe or whatever. I once wore my shoes on the wrong feet for a whole day and I could tell that something was off but I didn’t figure out why until I got home and took my shoes off and everything felt right again. Does it feel like that?”

That… was a surprisingly insightful observation. Steve did feel constantly off balance – especially when he had to interact with the other versions of people he had known well in his universe. He was always making comparisons in his head, wishing he could stop because it was exhausting. But how do you stop? How do you forget?

“It does feel weird. It’s been weeks now and it hasn’t got better, I – I’m afraid it never will,” Steve said, looking away.

This was a fear he hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone. Steve didn’t know why he admitted it to Argyle of all people. The other man came over to him and put his hands on his shoulders. Steve flinched a little but held steady as Argyle looked him in the eyes intently.

“It will. If I kept wearing my shoes the wrong way eventually I would have got used to it, right? Then putting them on the other way would have felt wrong. It’s time, man. It just takes time.”

Time. Steve had spent a year surviving an apocalypse – he remembered the first few days thinking he would never make it, but like Argyle had said – it had become his normal… Eventually. Now, trying to live life normally did feel wrong.

He nodded and Argyle dropped his hands before bending down to check on the pizza in the oven. A peaceful quiet settled over them as they waited for it to be ready.

---

Later that evening, he was reading in his room, hiding from everyone. Dinner had been loud and chaotic and Steve needed some time to himself afterwards. He found that he truly enjoyed sitting down for dinner with them all, even if he still didn’t talk much. The feeling of a family coming together after a long day and catching up with each other was… good. Food was passed around haphazardly and multiple conversations were going on at once and it was a lot for him and hurt his head a little, but he liked it. Joyce would always quietly ask how his day was and Will and Eleven always made a point to tell him how the rest of the kids were doing. It felt like family. Even though Steve was still holding himself back from them they kept trying to include him. Sitting at that table, he realized how easy it could be – to have them, to let them in.

That scared him. So, as soon as dinner was over, he ran to his room. He still felt like he didn’t deserve them and kept trying to squash that ball of sunshine glowing in his chest when they included him in their family.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He set The Princess Bride aside and called, “come in,” expecting Joyce or the kids. He wasn’t expecting Johnathan.

“Hey,” he said as he entered the room.

“Hey,” Steve replied.

“Nancy is coming over tonight and I was wondering if we could invite Robin and Eddie over, too? We haven’t seen them in awhile and it would be good to get the gang together, if you’re up for it.”

Steve didn’t know why he had to be there or give his permission. This was Johnathan’s house more than it was Steve’s; he could invite anyone he wanted over. He supposed he was really asking if Steve would hang out with them. His first impulse was to say no. His first impulse was always to say no. But that impulse also made him think of the promise he had made – that damn promise.

He used to love getting together with friends. Drinking and laughing and swimming. He was the life of the party, once upon a time. He didn’t know how to get that part of himself back, didn’t know how to be carefree and light anymore.

But… he had promised to try.

“Sure,” Steve said and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

---

He regretted it.

He found himself in the same predicament he always seemed to find himself in nowadays – he didn’t know what to say. Nancy and Jonathan were sitting on the couch across from him, open expressions on their faces like they were waiting for him to spill his entire life story.

No, thank you.

He had already done that once and would not be doing it again.

Robin was sitting close beside him, their knees touching. She was always touching him. Completely without hesitation, she would reach out at any time – and he didn’t know why but she never made him flinch. Eddie and Argyle were both on the floor, talking quietly with their heads together. Steve wanted to pull Argyle’s fucking hair. Wanted to pull him away from Eddie until he was sitting at an appropriate distance. He sipped his beer and tried to ignore them.

“So, what have you been up to?” Nancy asked.

How do you say absolutely nothing without saying absolutely nothing?

“Resting, mostly,” he replied, “reading, hanging out with the kids. What about you guys?”

“I’m going to school for journalism and Johnathan is working as a photographer. He’s growing his own business.”

Steve nodded, unsurprised. That fit with what his Nancy and Johnathan would have pursued too. The silence grew between them as they all seemed to think of what else to say to each other.

Steve turned to Robin. “You graduated, right? Why are you still in Hawkins?”

“I did graduate and was all set to go to university but…” she trailed off and looked away, her hands fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

“But what, Robs?” he asked gently.

She looked back at him. “But then Steve died and it didn’t feel right to leave without him. I manage Family Video now.”

It was his turn to look away from her. He saw Nancy looking at Robin with a deeply sympathetic look on her face and Steve wondered if there was more to the story. He didn’t want to push her about it though, especially when it was about Other Steve.

“You could go now. It’s not too late,” he said instead.

Nancy nodded enthusiastically. “You could!”

“Maybe,” Robin said still sounding sad, “but not yet.”

“Hey, if you’re the manager maybe you could give me a job? Part time, just one or two shifts a week? I need something to do.”

“Yes! Of course, I can!” Robin said and smiled at him so brightly you’d think he’d just given her a gift that she had been waiting her whole life for.

He smiled back at her. Working with Robin part time would be a good way of getting out more and he was grateful for the opportunity to make his own money. One step closer to independence. Hopper and Joyce never made him feel like a burden but he hated having to rely on anyone for his needs.

“Thanks, Rob.”

The conversation flowed more easily after that as everyone got caught up with each other. Eddie and Argyle finished their conversation and joined the group, which took some of the pressure off Steve. They complained about their jobs and the terrible customers they had to deal with, blowing off steam by trying to one-up each other. Steve learned that Eddie was working as a mechanic. Eds had been good with cars too, so that didn’t surprise him.

Steve moved around the room, sipping his beer and chatting, mostly with Argyle and Robin. The beers loosened his tongue and he was feeling pleasantly drunk when Nancy asked him about his universe – she wanted to know what it was like. The conversations around him quieted as they all seemed to wait for him to decide if he was going to answer or not. He certainly hadn’t been willing to talk about it before and he knew they must be curious. So, he told them that in general their universes seemed very similar, most of the differences started after Vecna. He told them about the sky and how much he had missed having weather, and his anecdote about Madonna made everyone laugh. He tried to steer the conversation away from The Upside Down as much as possible, not wanting to talk about those differences but Nancy had other plans.

“How did we die?” she asked suddenly.

Her eyes were red and a little unfocused, they were all drunk by this point but that question poured ice cold water down Steve’s back.

Flashes of blood, of sightless eyes staring up at a red sky, of screams filling the air overwhelmed him. Steve shook his head, hoping to clear the memories from his mind. Felt anger rise up in their place. Nancy wanted to know how she died? Wanted to know how they all died?

Well, Steve would fill her in.

“Johnathan died trying to get to Will, a Demogorgon cut him clean in half. He was still screaming as he watched him get taken by the Mind Flayer. Vecna killed Nancy, snapped her neck like it was nothing. Robin was crushed and suffocated by The Mind Flayer. Argyle burned alive. He was throwing a Molotov when a bat attacked him and he dropped it.”

He paused and looked at Eddie. “Eds…he died in my arms after being torn apart by Demobats. Anyone else’s deaths you want to hear about? Maybe Mike’s? Or Dustin’s?”

The silence was loud. They were all looking at him, horrified. He put his beer on the table and got up. He walked up the stairs calmly and out the front door. Sitting on the front steps he tried to calm his racing heart, ashamed of what he had said. It was a question he probably would have asked if their positions were reversed. Anyone would be curious to know how they died in another universe. Nancy also would never have asked if she wasn’t drunk. He dropped his head between his knees and sighed. He didn’t want to go back in there. After a moment he heard the door open and close behind him.

He expected Robin so he was surprised by the manly grunt his new companion let out as he sat beside him on the step.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Eddie said.

Steve couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Okay. I definitely owe you an apology.”

“I’m waiting,” Steve said as he lifted his head and turned towards him.

“I am sorry,” Eddie continued, “for how I treated you in the hospital. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Steve nodded, fighting back tears. “You didn’t know.”

“I’d like to explain why I was such an asshole, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, Eddie.”

“I wasn’t being facetious when I said I died the other day. I was torn apart by bats just like – just like Eds was but Vecna brought me back. He used me to get close to Eleven and the kids. I was screaming at them not to trust me, but they did. They were so happy to see me, that I was alive that they didn’t question how. That’s why I didn’t trust you. Just because you have someone’s face doesn’t mean you can be trusted. And the kids – fuck. You have no idea what they were like those first few days you were in the hospital. They were freaking out, man. Blaming themselves for taking too long. They were expecting Steve – who always just seemed to let all that shit roll off him, ya know? And instead…” Eddie seemed to realize where he was going and stopped mid-sentence.

“Instead, they got me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe not. But it’s the truth.”

Eddie looked at him intently. “You think I didn’t blame myself when I was doing what Vecna ordered me to do? Afterwards, when I tried to apologize, they wouldn’t let me. It was… hard, getting back to myself after that. I guess I just understand a little, maybe – about what you’re going through.”

Steve thought about it. Maybe…Eddie could understand a little. At least about the after part anyway, the getting back to normal part. But Eddie wasn’t to blame for his actions when he was being controlled by Vecna, Steve had no one else to blame but himself. It wasn’t the same, but it was something.

“Did you hurt them?” he asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I was a spy, I told Vecna everything that they were planning. I broke free before he ordered me to hurt them, though I could feel how much he wanted Eleven dead.”

“How did you break free?”

“Eleven. She knew something wasn’t right but it took her awhile to figure out the connection between me and Vecna. He left me torn up, made it look like I had crawled my way out of The Upside Down so I would be less suspicious. She thought it was the bat bites that she was sensing, not Vecna. Took her awhile to find him, longer to get him out.”

Steve couldn’t imagine having someone in his mind, ordering him around, ordering him to spy on the people he loved. It probably wasn’t something Eddie liked to talk about, but he was grateful that he told him. It helped. Their situations weren’t the exact same, but the guilt Eddie felt… Yeah, he understood guilt.

“Thank you,” Steve said, “I appreciate you explaining. I didn’t understand why you were so angry at me.”

Eddie winced. “I really was an ass. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?”

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it. I’ll pick you up at 11:00, let ya sleep in a little, hmm?”

Once again, his first impulse was to say no. After tonight he wanted to hide out in his room and never come back out.

But it was Eddie. How could he say no to Eddie?

He nodded. “11:00 sounds good.”

---

Part 10

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @queenie-ofthe-void @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @newtstabber @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

Thank you all so much for you comments, likes, and reblogs! I cherish each and every one. This community has been so lovely and welcoming. Thank you <3

[xoxo-author]

What Happens in Vegas Part 2

Note: Not quite sure how I feel about this one but here we are! I am definitely planning to make this into a series, regardless of my shitty writing! Hopefully it's not awful! I also tagged some people because they asked in the first part and that is so exciting! Thank you!

Jake Seresin x FemReader

Warnings: Shitty writing (as usual), drinking

I halt as I enter the kitchen, eyes locked on the open sliding glass door, "Hangman, did you leave the backdoor open?"

"No, I've been upstairs waiting on your ass to finish getting ready."

Rolling my eyes, I head over to the door before pulling it shut and ensuring the lock is in place. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over the backyard, which in reality was the beach. There was a feeling that washed over me that caused a shiver to run down my spine as I gazed out but I didn't have time to dwell on it as I heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. 

Shaking my head, I turned back towards the counter to get my clutch, opening it to make sure I had everything I needed. 

"You clean up nice." 

My head snaps up to see Hangman standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking very sharp in his outfit. Hangman was busy fixing his shirt cuffs which gave me a bit to look over him. His white dress shirt hugged him rather nicely, his biceps on display and his shoulders looking even more broad than normal. His pants fit him nicely, not too tight but not too loose. Not a single hair was out of place.

"Thank you, you're not so bad yourself." 

While I wasn't conceited, like some people ( cough cough Hangman), I thought I looked decent. The lilac-colored dress didn't look awful like I thought it would.  I was a bit nervous about the strapless A-line part but it turned out to be great, not to mention I was in love with the "ruffle" slit up the leg. 

Grabbing his jacket off the counter and the keys out of the bowl, Hangman looks at me, "Ready?" 

Nodding, I follow Hangman out of the house, mumbling thanks as he opens the car door for me. He handed me his jacket before closing the door and heading to the driver's side. 

Hangman and I seemed to have fallen into the husband-and-wife routine pretty easily over the last month. I was a bit worried when we first moved in, I wasn't quite sure how our lives were going to intertwine with each other. I had so many questions; How would we decorate? How would our routines coincide with each other? How would this impact the next eleven months? How are we going to convince people that we were given this whole marriage thing ago? Are we going to end up hating each other after this? How would my ex react?

I am genuinely shocked with how well it was going. Hangman was, unsurprisingly, very neat. The first night we moved in, everything was unpacked and put away. He built furniture like a madman and tore down boxes like his life depended on it. I was also very shocked to learn that he is a good cook. Now I can throw down in the kitchen so I am usually the one doing all of the cooking but when Hangman manages to get in there, it's good. So far our routines work out great, he works out in the morning and goes to work, I make his lunch in the morning, and then go to work. By the time we get home, whoever gets home first has dinner ready by the time the other gets home, we eat, chat, and either sleep or sit out on the deck.

                                                                            *********

"Mrs. Seresin!" 

A smile breaks out on my face as my eyes land on Phoenix making her way towards me, "Mrs. Floyd!" 

I wrap my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze before pulling back to look at her, "The ceremony was beautiful Phi! How does it feel to be a married woman?"

She briefly moves her head to look at Bob over at the pool tables before turning back to me, "It's an amazing feeling!"

I tightly squeeze her hands, "I am so happy for you!" 

"Where's Hangman?"

Shrugging my shoulders, "He told me he would meet me in here." 

As soon as the ceremony was over and everyone was making their way up to the beach to head into the bar, Hangman told me to go in and that he would meet me in there. Didn't tell me why or give me a chance to respond, just walked off.

"Well, go get yourself a drink and then head over to our spot, I will meet you all there as soon as I can."

Smiling at her, I turn on my heel and head towards the bar. The bar was filled with uniforms. Everywhere you looked, you were hit with a Navy uniform. 

Squeezing into a space at the bar, I smile at Penny when she waves and starts to make my go-to drink. "Penny, can you add Hangmans too?" 

She nods before going back to making the drinks and talking to Mav. 

"Bride or groom?" 

Turning to the right, my eyes land on a young man in a Navy uniform leaning against the bar. This man barely looked old enough to be in here. "Both."

Inching a bit closer to me, the youngster says, "I'm here for Bob, we were deployed together a bit ago." 

I nod with a smile, "It's great you came."

"Want to dance?"

Shaking my head, "No thank you." 

Penny places my drinks in front of me before hurrying off to help someone else. 

"Two drinks? Need help drinking them?" 

Before I could answer someone pressed their chest up against my back, "Her husband will help her."

Tilting my head back, I see Hangman staring down at the young sailor who looks a bit scared. 

Hangman doesn't let the kid say anything else before he slides in between him and me, bringing up his hand that held my jacket, "I figured you would be cold so I went to the car to grab it."

I gently take it from his hand and slip it on, "Thank you."

Hangman hands me my drink before grabbing his, nodding his head towards the back of the bar where everyone else is, "Fancy getting your butt kicked in pool?"

Taglist:

@harperdoodle @untoldshortsofthefandoms

[twisted-turtels]

Crossed Paths (Pt.2)

Farleigh Start x black!fem!oc

Author’s note: I’m on a role tonight. This is gonna be a friends-to-lover kind of story. I guess Farleigh's personality is kind of a head cannon, but we know he is a dick head and he still is, but not to Jordan. Just cute, playful banter. I can't wait to keep writing more. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

1133 words

Crossed Paths

Does the fit give rich, posh English major whose school is paid for by daddy’s money? Jordan thinks to herself as she’s admiring herself in the mirror. She woke up extra early today to make sure everything looked good. Jordan took the time to do her makeup and even set out an outfit the night before. The weather will be pretty chilly, but “A hoe never gets cold,” as her mother would say, so Jordan decided to wear a skirt today. She looks down at her watch. Only 8:30. I still have time to grab something quick to eat and drink. She grabs her school bag and keys and exits the door.

Jordan comes across a quaint cafe and decides to go inside. She notices there’s a line, so she decides to wait. As she takes a look at the menu, she feels a presence standing behind her. She turns around to see Farleigh standing in line as well.

“Look who’s trying to fit into the Oxford aesthetic,” Farleigh remarks with a sly grin. 

Jordan looks down at her outfit, “I- Well,” Farleigh laughs, “I’m just messing with you. Your outfit is cute,” he turns to look at the menu, “What are you getting?”

Jordan laughs, “I think it’s only customary to try the tea that the British lose their minds over. And a scone as well.”

The line continues to move until she and Farleigh are at the counter. 

“Hi, can I get-” Jordan starts, “Can we get two teas with milk and a vanilla scone?” Farleigh continues. Jordan stares at Fareligh in disbelief, “So you’re paying?” She asks. “Of course, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he responds.

Oh, so he got money?

“I suppose so.” Jordan smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Farleigh and Jordan walk out of the cafe towards campus. 

“How does it taste, Jordy?”

“Oh, so it’s Jordy now,” Jordan laughs softly, “and it tastes fine, nothing like sweet tea, though, which is ten times better. The scone is delicious, though.”

“I never asked, but what are you studying?” Farleigh asks. “I’m actually studying English,” Jordan responds. “No way! Me too. What's your first class today?” Farleigh persists. “I’m gonna be honest. I only know the professor and room number. It’s Professor Ware, if I’m not mistaken-” 

“I have Professor Ware, too,” Farleigh continues

“In room 220?” Jordan questions.

“Yeah,” Farleigh confirms. “Oh, thank god. I thought I was gonna be alone,” Jordan says. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “You’re never gonna be alone. You got me, Felix, and Venetia,” Farleigh checks his watch, “Oh shit, we’re gonna be late. We gotta walk faster.” He teasingly walks ahead of Jordan. 

“Wait for me. I got short legs!” Jordan rushes after him, laughing. As they pick up the pace, the laughter continues. Maybe Oxford won’t be so bad. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They finally make it to the room. Is this the professor’s office? Before Jordan even had a chance to question it, Farleigh grabbed her wrist and rushed them into the room. Jordan hurriedly sits in one of the chairs while Farleigh throws himself on an armchair. 

“I’m so sorry. Sorry, I’m late. Sorry, I’m late. We got completely lost.” Farleigh hurriedly explains.

“Yes, so sorry, Professor.” Jordan apologies as well. 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Fareligh says to the other boy in the room. I did not notice him at all. Farleigh turns back to Professor Ware, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re Farleigh Start and Jordan Williams, I take it?” The professor asks, “Nice of you to join us, finally.” The professor focuses on Farleigh, “You’re not a relation of Frederica Start by any chance?”

Farleigh nods, “Yeah, she’s my mother.” The professor breaks out into a grin, almost like he’s reminiscing. 

“I knew her when I was your age. We were both here! When she was still Frederica Catton. Before she went to America. Farleigh, in a mocking tone, exclaims, “No way! Oh, my god. I’ll tell her. She’s going to be thrilled I’m being tutored by one of her friends!”

Ware shrinks down, “Oh no, Not really friends. More of an admirer…from afar. We didn’t even speak. No need to mention me.”

Jordan snorts and quickly tries to hide it. Farleigh smiles charmingly and looks at the professor, “Shall we start?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jordan is staring absently out the window as the boy she now knows is Oliver is reading his essay. He said  ‘thus’ like 8 times already. 

“And thus the shape of the verse can be said, like Browing’s ‘Last Duchess,’ to look as it were alive.” 

Finally, he’s done.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as they wait for the professor to respond. Ware finally shifts his gaze to the group, “ Okay, yeah. That was very good. A lot of food for thought there. Intriguing.” 

Farleigh chuckles, “Thus.” Jordan quickly glances at him. So he noticed it, too.

Oliver sharply asks, “Hmm?”

“Sorry, just ‘thus’. It’s just a funny word.” The air feels thicker in the room.

“Why,” Oliver asks.

“I don't know. I don't think we really use it that much in real life, do we? It’s kind of verbose,” Farleigh looks Oliver in the eyes mischievously, “don't you think?”

“No. Not really,” Oliver quips

Jordan interrupts bluntly, “You used it eight times.”

Oliver visibly reddens, “No, I didn’t.”

Farleigh and Oliver continue to debate while Jordan’s mind continues to wander. In the next session, I’ll have to bring my own essay. She finally comes to when she hears Oliver sarcastically remark, “Look forward to hearing your essay!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“I didn’t know that we had to bring our own essay. This is so embarrassing,” Jordan complains as she and Farleigh walk back to her apartment. “It’s not a big deal; the professor said it was fine anyway, seeing as you’re an exchange student. Just bring it next time.” Farleig explains calmly.

“I guess you’re right,” Jordan pauses, “That Oliver guy is kind of odd, yeah?”

“Yeah, and annoying as shit,” Farleigh confirms while rolling his eyes. “Anyways, are you doing anything later, at like 5 o’clock?” Farleigh asks.

“No, I’m not actually. Why, you just can’t get enough of me?” Jordan quips.

Farleigh raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly, “Um, don't get ahead of yourself, but Felix and Venetia wanted to know if you wanted to join us at the bar.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like me, and yes, I do want to join y’all at the bar. Come get me at 5, okay?” Jordan replies as they stop in front of her door, “Thanks for walking back with me, I’ll see you in three hours?” Jordan walks in and turns around to wave at Farleigh. He waits until he can’t see her anymore before walking away, letting out an audible groan. She’s got me. 

[sysakiddo]

5 times Lewis confronted Sebastian about his writing and one time he did not have to

1.

“You're not even listening to me.” Lewis, for lack of a better word, whines. He has a deep crease between his eyebrows. Sebastian wants to tell him the wrinkle will stay there, just to see him panic. Though he manages to hide it, Lewis is really vain sometimes. 

“I'm kind of busy at the moment.” No apology. “You were saying?” 

The room is too hot and sticky for Sebastian to play mind games with Lewis. He wants to be alone and count down the minutes to when he can take a cold bath. 

Suddenly, Lewis moves quickly, soundlessly. He likes to remind Sebastian he is a cheetah, with or without a car. 

Sebastian does not manage to hide the tab he had opened. As a rule, these days, he is not fast enough. 

“Seriously, Seb? The Times crossword is more important than what I'm telling you?” 

“I would never dream of saying you're not the most important thing in the world.” the blond huffs, feeling mean now. 

He is very obviously fishing for a reaction and Lewis knows it. From previous experiences, he also knows the fight would not bring him any gratification. He smiles tightly instead, sitting down on the couch. 

Sebastian glares at him, hating how Lewis looks like he belongs there. Like there is no place where he belongs more than on the couch in Seb's driver's room. 

“I finally read your book. The one about the spies, Burning Snow?” he clarifies as if Sebastian doesn't know the plot and names of his own books. 

And look, Sebastian is still mad at whoever leaked his identity to the press. It is more than a month since the whole world discovered that he, Sebastian Vettel, four times world champion, is also an acclaimed author. He published all of his books under a pseudonym, which worked pretty well. Until now. 

The people in the paddock took it in stride. Out of them, who looked like they could write a book that became a bestseller long before his identity had been revealed? The bee rescuer is the only one fit for the job. 

Valterri was the first to go through the bulk of his publications, three novels and one book for kids. 

Your writing is pretty good. Maybe you should try and publish it someday :) 

The text from Valterri after he finished made him huff, but deep down, something in his chest had eased. 

Lewis, however, was weirdly evasive on the topic. He was apprehensive about reading any of Seb's work and only got to it when Valterri left all of the books on his desk, with a post-it note on the top. 

READ IT!!!

Immediately after finishing the first chapter of the first novel, he regretted not starting earlier. Uncovering the similarities between the side characters and the people in the paddock was a lot of fun. It felt like an intimate look into the story that Seb's readers wouldn't normally get. One of the characters, the one who actually holds the key to the climax of the story and is far more important than the reader would have thought at first, is based on him, he thinks. Lewis only puts it together at the end. It's the way the character's dialogues are written that gives it away. He thinks it fascinating to find out how Sebastian privately perceives him. He describes him with great detail, things that Lewis wouldn't think to notice about him even. The thought of being so closely watched makes the top of his ears heat up. 

Now, Sebastian is watching him, unimpressed. “You can read?” 

Lewis keeps ignoring him - it works most of the time. “My favourite was Thomas, naturally.” 

The top of Seb's cheeks turns bright red.  “N-narcissist.” He tries to keep his composure, shaking his head a little. The stutter exposes him and Lewis smirks like he has just won. And his trophy is sitting on a stool in front of him. 

“Well, I gotta run now. I'll come back with a review of book number two!” 

Seb is too overwhelmed to react before Lewis slips out of the door. He sighs, returning to his crossword.

2.

The next time Seb sees Lewis, he curses the way his heart flutters in his chest when he sees his smile. 

“I tried the recipe, you know,” Lewis lets his hand linger on Seb's forearm as he stops him in his stride. They are both rushing to get to the debrief on time. Lewis does not care. 

At Seb's quizzical face, he puckers his lips a little in annoyance. “The one from Freedom to Pheasants; what Matilda used to offer her cousins when they came over. I, of course, used soya yoghurt and I still had a little bit of the honey you gave me-” Seb opens his mouth to interrupt him but does not succeed. “I used almond butter and cherries instead of raspberries and let it freeze for a few hours. Why didn't you tell me sooner? It is delicious.” 

“We really have to go, guys.” the intern standing beside them looks like he regretted taking this job and would rather jump off the cliff than listen about frozen yoghurt treats for another minute. 

“Did you like it? The book, I mean.” Seb asked, feeling like a kid asking for compliments on his drawing. He regrets it almost immediately. Lewis flashes him a big smile, open and sincere, the sight only a few people are graced with. 

“Yeah, man. The dialogues were spectacular.” 

When Seb opens the freezer in his motorhome a few hours later, he is taken aback by a small white box with a sharpie-drawn smiley on top. When he opens it, five perfectly symmetrical yoghurt bites punch the air out of his lungs, like he missed a stair. With shaky hands, he fishes out one and takes a bite. The aftertaste of honey in his mouth makes his eyes water. 

3.

“Seb! Seb! Sebastian!” the whispering grows louder with each call of his name and Sebastian feels himself getting pulled out of the slumber. He groans loud enough for the woman sitting next to him, someone from McLaren's marketing team, to glare at him. 

“What?” he snaps at Lewis, the other man taken aback. He doesn't expect to see the dark circles under Seb's eyes, his ashen skin looking almost white. 

He gulps, worry bubbling in his chest. “Care to join me for dinner?” 

The German sighs, hunching in his chair even more. He jerks his shoulders, which Lewis takes as an affirmative response. 

A few hours later, every corner of Lewis' apartment is filled with quiet music. Seb is watching his every move from the bar stool in his kitchen. Lewis feels weirdly exposed like that, chopping onions for their dinner, even though it isn't the first time he has made dinner for Sebastian. Not by a long shot. 

“Daniel must have been thrilled,” he cuts the silence abruptly. Seb doesn't understand and makes a go-ahead gesture with his hand. “When he found out you based the main character on him, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian smiles bashfully. “You've read This room can not be eaten?” 

Lewis nods. The book for kids took him the shortest to read, naturally. To his bewilderment, he enjoyed it a lot. After he had finished, he immediately bought a copy for every kid in his family. 

“I don't think Daniel had realised Rick is based on him, actually.” Seb chuckles, his eyes lighting up in joy. 

Sebastian starfishes on the couch after they finish eating. Lewis pours them a second glass of wine and sits down next to him. Carefully, carefully. 

The German looks better after eating, though he still very clearly lacks energy. Lewis turns on the television, mainly as the white noise. 

He falls asleep in no time, and Lewis stands up to put the fluffiest blanket on him. He makes sure both his shoulders are covered, hesitating a bit before brushing the stray strands of hair out of his forehead. 

When he sits down, Sebastian whines softly and puts his cold feet under Lewis' thighs. 

Lewis lets himself hope. 

4.

The next time they see each other, Lewis is a few drinks in, talking a little louder than he usually would. Seb finds him laughing in a circle of a few of their friends. He is like a magnet, though he never fully realised how much power he holds in a crowd of people. 

“Birthday boy!” Seb beams at Charles, hugging him firmly. He already congratulated him this morning with a gift and a proper speech. Now, it's time to clink his glass with him, which, he personally thinks, is too old to do properly. 

Either way, he lets himself get lost in the conversation. Charles, Lewis and Daniel make it easy for the debate to flow without his input. 

“Oh, Seb, I almost forgot! Arthur told me to tell you he loved When I Was Older! He wanted to know if it would be okay to ask you some questions later.” 

The attention shifts to Seb after Charles' words. Stupidly, he can feel his cheeks flush. “Eh, thank you. I appreciate that. Sure, send him my way when you see him.” 

“He kept talking about the plot twist for days. I still haven't finished the first one - I'm sorry, I'm such a slow reader - but yeah, Arthur thinks the sequel is even better.” 

Lewis snorts. Charles whips his head towards him, surprised. The same goes for Sebastian. Sure, the reviews for the second book in the spies series were mixed. But he thought the bad reviews were biased - the book came out at the same time his alias got revealed. 

“You did not like it?” Charles asks naively. He hasn't been sober for hours now. 

The Brit looks affronted by the idea of liking the book. “I hated it.” he spits and, yeah. Sebastian is shocked at just how much those words hurt. He has no resources to hide it, so instead, he bares his teeth in a leering smile. 

To his great surprise, Daniel joins in. “Well, of course, what Thomas did was questionable, but that made the plot twist even better.” 

Lewis is not buying what Daniel is selling. “Nah, it was stupid and made no sense, man. Why would Thomas betray his lover if-” If he is based on me. He almost blurted it out, thankfully cutting himself off before he could do something he would regret. 

Still, Sebastian averts his gaze, bashful. The tension in the air is tangible and Charles, not wired to understand bad vibes, as he calls it, asks him another question. 

“Are you working on something now?” 

Seb looks at Lewis when he lies through his teeth. “No. I think I'm quite done.” 

5.

That's the reason why, three weeks after the party, when Lewis sees a post on his insta feed with Seb's picture and BOOK ALERT in big red letters, he clicks on it. He is doubtful at first, but then it turns out that, yes, Sebastian really published a new book during the winter break. It is a poetry experiment, explains Seb himself in the interview Lewis reads through. 

Unexplainably, his hands shake as he tries to google a page where he can buy the poetry collection. When he finally finds it, he curses. Seb wrote a poetry book in fucking German. 

He has no shame and immediately calls him to ask about the translation. 

“No, I do not think it will get translated.” Seb is wary. “Why?” 

“I would like to read it, that's all.” 

Seb snorts, can't help himself. Why would you want to read it if you hate my writing so much.

“Well,” he says instead. “I've told you a long time ago German could be useful.” 

Lewis pays big bucks to the publishing house to make the translation happen in the shortest time possible. He makes sure Sebastian has no idea he is the one who pushes for the English translation and pays off everyone, so it stays that way. 

Out of all places, they are in the aeroplane when it all falls apart. 

Sebastian is returning from the bathroom when he notices what Lewis is holding. 

“Jesus, don't read that around me.”

“Why?” Lewis asks. “You don't have to be weird about it. It's great.” Lewis wouldn't say he is a poetry guy by any means. But there is something about Sebastian's words that curl off pages, sticking like caramel and breezing through his chest like a breath of fresh air. Sebastian's poetry is shockingly emotional, exposing his feelings with a sort of bravery Lewis has never felt. Most of them are reflections, sweet or poignant. Lewis can clearly see the inspiration from the Swiss nature, and the relationship with his family. It's beautiful. 

Yet the ones that cut through his heart like a burning knife are the heartbreaking stanzas of unrequited love. And even though Seb states that not all poems are inspired by a personal experience in the prologue, Lewis knows poems like these cannot be fabricated. The one he's stuck on at the moment, Absolution, makes Lewis a bit dizzy. 

In the seat across from him, Sebastian shrugs. “If you say so.” 

“I mean, these love poems, man. They must have broken your heart. How come you've never told me?” 

The pronouns sit awkwardly on his tongue, and he watches Seb squirm a bit. 

“It did not feel like there was something to talk about. It would - I don't think it could ever work between-” he pauses, hauling a slow breath through his nose. He rubs his eyes with his right hand like always when he is agitated. He also forgets to use the eyedrops for his dry eyes;  Lewis usually has to remind him. “Between him and me, I guess. I could never be the one for him.” He trips over his words.

Lewis blinks, feeling all turned out. He tries to process the words that feel too much like a confession to him. 

“I doubt that, Seb.” He says earnestly. “I doubt anyone would find you anything but-” Perfect. 

Sebastian interrupts him, a painful grimace on his face. “Just - just stop.” Suddenly, he looks exhausted and resigned all at once. “You must know, Lewis.” 

Seb is not looking at him and misses the look of utter shock on his  face. “Me?” Lewis feels like there is cotton in the back of his mouth. “But- But I-” 

“You what?” snaps Sebastian, his face closed off now. He managed to build his walls high enough that it took more than a little love confession to make them crumble. 

Lewis' head spins. There is just no way, no way that Sebastian could wax poetic about him. It's hard to breathe, and his face turns splotchy red. 

“But you've never told me. Or reacted when I tried -” 

“Oh, trust me, Lewis, I would have noticed if you had tried.” 

“Sebastian.” he says, his voice breaking with the possibilities flashing through his mind. Sebastian is brave and he can be, too. “I have loved you for years.” 

Now it's Seb's turn to look shocked. “But- You always-” he stutters, unable to finish. 

“Come here,” Lewis beacons him over and Seb sits down next to him without hesitation. Lewis leans in and caresses Seb's cheek with his right hand. “You are very silly,” he presses their lips together and the feeling of Seb relaxing completely under him makes Lewis' fingers tingly. 

+1 

“Hurry up!” Sebastian is wearing an atrocious old flannel shirt. Lewis swears he has put it in the 'donate' cabinet twice already, yet it always finds its way back. 

He walks to the table where Seb sits, a big red box in front of him. “Open it,” he instructs and Lewis opens the lid. 

“I wanted you to be the first to hold it.” 

Lewis takes out the brand-new book in awe. When he opens it, the pages smell so good he closes his eyes for a second. He flips the pages until he finds what he is looking for. The dedication says: 

Love, I've seen it all. I've seen the sunrises in Africa, the sunsets in Asia. The sun shining on the Mediterranean, the snow melting in the Alps. I've seen fireworks meant just for me, the beauty of the never-ending road. Seeing you smile beats them all. 

For Lewis.

[yeehanfrf]

Week 12 Recs: Simple Pleasures

Week 12's theme was "Simple Pleasures," or PWPs. Whether you think it stands for "Plot? What plot?" or "Porn without Plot," the point is these are all short (or short enough) and smutty.

Behind the cut, you'll find the recs gathered from the Yeehan community. These are all rated Explicit this week, so they're organized alphabetically by title.

A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don't let them see it by doctorziegler [4,843 words]

There are some things that Hanzo wants kept under lock and key.

A Picture In Blue by Hoodedscarlet [4,835 words]

The mission was nothing to write home about on the surface; some casino in Monaco with corrupt Talon agents and blood money on their hands. Jesse knew that they'd have to dress the part to even get in the door; nice clothes, good hair, the regular works to blend in among the rich.

But he hadn't expected this - Hanzo walking out dressed up like he owned the place, hair slicked back and suit immaculately fitted. He looked good enough for McCree to sink to his knees in awe - and with him down there, looking at Hanzo with doe eyes, both of them had some ideas for how they should spend the time before the mission...

all the better to eat you with (my dear) by Hoodedscarlet [12,798 words]

An assassin specialises in disappearing into the shadows, making himself one with the quiet and the unknown. But one can become too good at slipping into the darkness - and when McCree realises that perhaps this time Hanzo hadn't planned for this it's too late to save him. When Overwatch get a note with a location and the words 'Come get him' , they have to go and save their friend - and the man that McCree meets is not entirely the same one he remembers.

Bend Over, I'll Drive by millenial_falcon [4,407 words]

Twenty-four hours ago they had been discretely sniffing around LumériCo’s newest installation, playing the part of road-trippers laying over in town for a couple of days. Now, Cassidy is driving to beat the devil, with Hanzo pressed warm and solid against his side.

Blowing Off Steam by FanficsbyVe [4,654 words]

After a rotten day, McCree finds an unexpected visit by Hanzo makes everything better. One-shot.

Bounty by orphan_account [4,853 words]

“I know a great deal of things about you... A common criminal who gained status on merit of his skill. A former Blackwatch operative. A competent mercenary. You have impressed me, but there remains one thing I have not figured out yet... Do you like men, Jesse McCree?”

McCree and Hanzo have worked together on more than one occasion and Hanzo proposes a mutually beneficial 'arrangement'.

But I Don't Have No Money by dicktrickle [9,676 words] Reccer comment: "hanzo wrecks his car and gets himself wrecked in turn"

Hanzo was stranded in the desert, his car stuck in the only shop for 50 miles. Without his wallet.

He was going to kill Genji. But not before paying the rugged mechanic for his services with the clothes off his back.

Difficult Men by motorghost [10,378 words] Reccer 1 comment: "PLS READ THIS ONE RN (but mind the tags)"

Reccer 2 comment: "Not just a favorite PWP, but one of my fave Yeehan fics overall."

A newer, smaller Overwatch has just had their first victory and Cole's going to celebrate the only way he knows how: with questionable substances, unsavory characters and maybe inadvisable deeds.

Dim City Glow by Interrobang [6,485 words] Reccer comment: "I know we're focusing on the smut, but I truly adore the lived in feeling of the relationships Interrobang writes WITH their great smut."

Hanzo steps away from a party for a breath of fresh air, but McCree is more than distracting enough to keep Hanzo from gathering his thoughts.

Good thing Hanzo doesn't need to think much for this anyway.

Dying Grass Moon by motorghost [7,774 words]

The hunter Cole Cassidy finds a creature in the forest who needs his help. Clearly the giant white wolf isn't from around here, but it's dangerous to pry into a spirit's affairs.

Freebie by robocryptid [2,945 words]

Cole's thoughts are a dull buzz. Foggy, clouded with need. He’s aching inside, hot and softening up, and Shimada… Fuck Shimada.

Probably never had to work to get laid. Just shows up. Claims no presumptions, but why the fuck was he there, then? That’s all it takes. All he has to do. Now he’s in Cole’s head.

Giving a Finger by hunahuna_un [10,487 words] Reccer comment: "I'll also toss in one of mine, bc we all need more cowboy with oral fixation~"

The intel mission about the Null Sector goes sideways so Hanzo and Jesse are forced to retreat into a safe house. Little did they know how Jesse’s nicotine withdrawals would test their patience.

He only gave a finger...

heron by cowboyflesh (cowboymeat), G0REPUP [4,905 words] Reccer comment: "no one knows who's the hunter and who's the hunted"

McCree scavenges, picks up what he can; opportunistic. He’s been around quite a bit and isn’t one to settle down. 

Hanzo hunts. Unassuming, poised as demure and uptight, something to be taken apart and ruined and not the other way around.

Allowing the gunslinger's broad palm to slip into his kimono, Hanzo turns and looks up at him with practiced pleasantry. A soft smile, toothless and submissive, as McCree’s eyes narrow at him. He grins hungrily, the lingering laughter still left on his lips as his attention is taken by the archer’s act.

“Gettin’ to be late, why don’t we take this back to my quarters?” McCree drawls, soft and smooth as can be as he massages Hanzo’s shoulder, sweetening the deal.

I got this fever, fever burning inside by CourtneyCourtney [11,300 words]

Hanzo has heard stories of this 'weapon', the most lurid tales courtesy of McCree, naturally. A libido accelerant Talon injects intravenously, giving its victims the option of mauling a stranger for sexual release, forcing themselves on a teammate and ruining any trust built between the two, or - to quote Jesse's turn of phrase - dying of "blue balls."

In other words, not a way for someone like Jesse McCree to go. Not if Hanzo is determined to help. It would be a shame to lose a colleague as altruistic and reliable as McCree to a weapon so primitive.

If he has to choke out the voice at the back of his mind questioning his own altruism in performing this act, then so be it.

(or, McCree gets sex pollened by Talon, and Hanzo helps him out the way any good friend would (Really. Stop gagging, Genji.))

Imagination Infatuation by Partymeowth [9,117 words] Reccer comment: "steaming hot phone sex"

After many, many years of having crushes he’s forbidden from acting upon, Hanzo's used to relying on his imagination to make up for the absence of anything concrete.

Infatuation by ChillieBean [2,131 words]

Cole was jogging on the treadmill, and ten minutes in he removed his shirt. Hanzo did not think anything of it at the time, it is nothing he had not seen before, but when he stole a glance a few minutes later, he could not tear his eyes away.

While Cole was intently focused on his workout and completely oblivious to Hanzo’s leering, with his gloriously hairy, muscled chest and trim waist on show, Hanzo noticed that his pecs were bouncing with each step.

Bouncing. That is a testament to just how fit he is for someone who drinks, smokes and eats the greasiest food he can get his hands on. He has pecs. They bounce. And Hanzo needs them.

It Will Come Back by CorvidFightClub [3,434 words]

McCree and Hanzo are captured by a gang somewhere in the American Midwest after a mission. The situation becomes more dire when Hanzo finds out the gang isn’t the only thing he has to worry about.

Known by vaguely_concerned [1,217 words] Reccer comment: "slow and sweet sex"

Just some happy sex.

Love and Comfort in Gibraltar by ChillieBean [2,879 words]

Hanzo pulls his hand away from that scar and moves his hand back up to rest his hand in the middle of his chest, skipping the same two scars like he always does. Cole doesn’t mind honestly, Hanzo knows his story, he knows why they’re there. It’s not like they’re not that easy to see these days with the hair that’s covering his chest now, but Hanzo’s always been careful to avoid touching them.

Cole thinks about telling their story, weighing up the option of giving Hanzo the distraction or just comforting him in silence. Hanzo knows the story of every other scar on his body, what they make Cole feel when he looks at them.

He thinks again about the trust Hanzo has in him, and decides it’s time.

“I ever tell you about the other two scars?”

Mile High Noon by motorghost [7,055 words]

Two late-thirties bounty hunters break some minor sky-laws.

Nantaimori by ChillieBean [15,403 words]

It had been months in the making, and it was supposed to be a straightforward night: Be Hanzo Shimada's personal waiter, gather intel on a potential partnership with a neighbouring clan, get out without making any waves.

Cole's plans come to a crashing halt when he is asked instead to be the nantaimori—to lie naked for the duration of the meeting while Hanzo eats sushi off him.

Only You Can Cool My Desire by robocryptid [4,202 words] Reccer comment: "cuddling for warmth, my favorite trope and just for me!"

Tasked with cataloging Overwatch assets, Cole and Hanzo spend the night in one safehouse. This one's supposed to be well-equipped, but it's cold as hell and the tiny space heater just isn't suited to the task.

Pine Woods by coinin [14,659 words] Reccer comment: "'Pine Woods' because cozy cabin! And snow!"

After a mission goes awry, Cassidy and Hanzo are forced to flee into the Finnish wilderness. Will they find shelter before they freeze to death? And more importantly, what are they going to do to stave off boredom if they do find safety?

Poker Face by Cadeykat [28,383 words]

“Shark, my ass. Man cleared out $60,000 at the first table he played at.”

Hanzo shrugs, silently delighting in how Daniel sucks in a bracing breath at his nonchalance. Oh, he loves riling him up. Serves him right for calling him in on his day off. “So? That’s not entirely uncommon. Perhaps he’s just good at poker.”

“He’s won almost $250 grand over the last four days.”

Oh.

This is going to be fun.

Say My Name by ChillieBean [9,448 words] Reccer comment: "spite fucking in the most delicious way possible"

Things have been good. Better than Cole thought when he first reluctantly signed up. There wasn't a problem this new team couldn't solve, they gelled together like they have been working together for years.

And things had been good, right until Genji invited his brother to join them.

Cole hadn’t really factored in just how angry seeing Hanzo’s stupid smug face made him. He’s sure the stick up Hanzo’s ass has a stick up its ass. And the shitty part of it all is that Hanzo hasn’t done anything since joining to warrant his anger. Hanzo’s polite, he keeps to himself most of the time, and in group settings, he gets along with everyone.

Yet, all Cole can see when he lays his eyes on him is the carnage done by his hands; Genji’s bloodied body gasping for air.

Shoot to Kill by robocryptid [2,963 words] Reccer comment: "Cupid Hanzo Cupid Hanzo Cupid Hanzo"

Cole convinces Hanzo that Overwatch's Valentine's Day party is a costume party. It's supposed to be a light hazing, a way to welcome Hanzo into the fold. He doesn't expect it to backfire quite so spectacularly.

Slip of the Tongue by robocryptid [5,840 words] Reccer 1 comment: "some of thee dirtiest dirty talk I've had the pleasure to read"

Reccer 2 comment: "Cassidy's weaponised voice results in accidental phone sex"

This was meant to be Cassidy’s job. He did the research, studied the blueprints, laid out the plan. Two nights before he hoped to depart, he broke his leg from a nasty fall. If Hanzo didn’t take over, Cassidy would lose the opportunity entirely. The compromise was simple: Hanzo would do the work on his behalf, but Cassidy would not have to relinquish full control. Instead he remained connected by a standard Overwatch communicator and a minuscule camera.

Hanzo offered of his own free will. He chose this. His only regret is that Cassidy seems incapable of giving instructions that don’t sound like innuendo.

Soothe the Itch by fishpoets [2,650 words]

Jesse wakes restless and irritated, with an insistent urge to clamp something between his lips. Maybe Hanzo can help.

sparring gone sexy by Dio Almark (dancingassassin) [9,659 words]

Hanzo thought that inviting Jesse McCree to be his sparring and training partner had been a good idea. At least at first. They were both mercenaries, training together would keep them at the top of their game. That was all well and good, but then Hanzo had to go and fall for the cowboy.

Truth or Dare: Loophole by thtzwhatuthink [1,213 words] Reccer comment: "a simple, short, but very dirty truth-or-dare situation"

“I dare you to tell McCree all the dirty things you would do to him if given the chance—right now, and out loud.” Hanzo is unfazed by the dare; he is a man of few words in casual conversation, and of even fewer in work settings. When Hanzo smirks, Genji’s smug grin falters a little. He found a loophole.

Truth or Dare: Piercings by thtzwhatuthink [5,610 words]

Playing Poker while a game of Truth or Dare goes on in the same room will inevitably get a certain Cowboy involved in a rather pleasing predicament. Especially with the help of some good ol' brotherly bickering about... inappropriate piercings.

Truth or Dare: Thongs by thtzwhatuthink [5,446 words]

Leave it to Genji to dare Tracer to get her underwear drawer from her room and set it down in the middle of the truth or dare circle. Resident Cowboy is dared to put a thong on, and he's not the only one. In fact, the thongs are merely a catalyst for what Hanzo gets himself into tonight.

what ails you by motorghost [4,858 words] Reccer 1 comment: "Hanzo gets injured and Cole visits him in the hospital. Very hot, great dirty talk."

Reccer 2 comment: "lives rent-free in my head"

A bad injury puts Hanzo in the medbay for a week. Cole pays him a visit in the night.

Wolf by Phylix [3,946 words]

Hanzo awakens in the night to see Jesse needy and asleep. He takes matters into his own hands.

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And that's a wrap on the Week 12 recs! Thank you so much to everyone who submitted a recommendation.

If you happen to find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "It's About the Yearning," or all the pining your heart can stand.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 11 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

so i’ve been thinking about it for an additional five minutes and here’s what i’ve got and its kinda blowing my mind. Each person in buck’s life either had a Moment with him either in the coma dream or at his real life bedside, with a few noted exceptions. I’ll explain:

Chimney: coma dream, and MY GOD did they make good use of him here. As the guy who is always first to believe in The Crazy he was PERFECT to be the guy who’s like “yeah alright, one ticket to the crazy train.” I’m sorry but Buck proving that he knew him by knowing why he’s called Chimney had me lollling

Hen: Sceptic. And in the coma dream as the milder voice of reason. Funny, and good at keeping things moving. She and Chimney were also great to have in imaginary land since they are the ones who are the most stable without Buck in their lives, likely because of how much they stabilize each other

Maddie: In the coma dream and IRL, but coma!Maddie is essentially Maddie from season 2. Literally heart breaking. Speaking of, my heart is still not over the way she saw the firefighter at the door and simply said “which one”

Athena and May: Buck’s (let’s face it) step-mom and by association, step sister. They’re in real life because without Bobby there, they don’t ever have much to do with him. They understand clear as day that Buck is Bobby’s other son, and they accepted it ages ago, to the point they find it amusing every step Bobby takes to realize it himself. (Back to Bobby in a moment.)

Eddie and Christopher: They’re of course in IRL because without Buck intervening as he does they wouldn’t have a place in his life or in each other lives (pause so i can SCREEEEEEEEEAM about this) In real life, they’re begging him to come back--or more accurately, Chris is, while Eddie stands silently behind him, barely able to see Buck and crying his eyes out. I think when Eddie wasn’t initially fighting for Chris to see Buck all Hospitalled Up, as it were, is because Eddie didn’t think Chris could handle it. The real truth of the matter is Eddie couldn’t handle it. We saw it ourselves--Chris was shaken, but able to pull himself together enough to say his piece and beg Buck to come back into their lives (insert couch metaphor here, y’all make it fit). Eddie could barely look at the bed, and when he did, his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t speak. Eddie in the coma dream exists, is mentioned, but he’s lost in his anger, doesn’t have his life-lines to reach out for, is missing the man who has his back, and because of that lost everything. These two men truly are unanchored without each other, and without their son (yeah I said it, sue me), are missing a key element that makes their family a family.

Now Bobby. Bobby is the most notable one who is both there irl and in Buck’s coma dream. The man who entered his second marriage with a son he didn’t fully realize he had, though now he’s definitely realized it. The man who is dead without Buck in his life. Who stayed alive because one pesky kid had the gall to work his pesky way under Bobby’s skin and stressed him out enough to look after him and care and not stop caring until he had a whole goddamn family in his hands, both with Athena and at the 118. I’m still struggling to fully feel all the feels here and btw I think we need to take a moment to give MAD PROPS to Peter Krause for his turn as dead addict Bobby because he was fantastic.

It’s interesting, because for some reason in my head, I expected Buck’s coma dream to actually be really pleasant and happy and the lesson he learns is that life is hard but you gotta do it anyway and you’ll be rewarded for hard work. The coma dream was very different--twisted and, for all that Buck was in it, it was missing him like an open wound. I didn’t realize it right away, but Coma Buck is the Buck that’s born for parts, the Evan Buckley that Buck sees himself as in his own head. 

It’s the Buck that can’t help but reach out to help, that desperately tries over and over again to be the support that he himself is desperate for, that has irrevocably changed lives, with his worn heart out on his sleeve, collecting people that care about it without him really realizing, and in return making them care more about themselves, that makes Buck truly who he is, and makes his actual reality what it is. And that’s goddamn beautiful.

Please add your thoughts to this, my brain is still expanding

@loveyourownsmiilee @blutterlie @matan4il