#be ready for some MAJOR push on the bullshit

[jacqcrisis]

Every single time Astarion starts talking about taking Cazador's place in the ritual of ascension, Ronan is doing everything not to grab him by the shoulders, look him in the eye, and tell him that he's here to kill one vampire aspiring to a kind of twisted godhood.

Don't make it two.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 2)

Summary: The reader is trying to deal with the secret Dean's dropped on her but things still don't add up. And despite her Alpha trying to convince her they can never be something more, she's not ready to give up so easily...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of murder/manipulation, smut

A/N: Please enjoy!

_______

He what? Hunting people? What kind of answer was that? You figured he was hiding some sort of criminal background, something to do with DNA. Yeah, maybe even the fact he could have killed someone crossed your mind during your research. 

But there was a damn big difference between killing a guy and hunting him.

You were so dumbfounded by his response that Dean took pity on you and moved away, lips pursed. “Y/N, I’m going to say this one more time because I know that’s a lot to take in at once. I will never harm you. I can smell the fear coming off of you but you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

He took another step back when you continued to stare, his eyes darting away. 

“You wanted the truth and now you have it,” he said as he headed for the hallway. 

“Bullshit.” He froze outside his bedroom, frowning when he glanced over his shoulder. “You haven’t told me anything, Winchester.”

You stormed over, poking him in his muscular chest, Dean’s eyebrows raising. “I told you what you need to know. I kill people. It’s that simple.”

“No, it’s really not.” You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down close, your nose burying itself in his neck. You inhaled sharply before he managed to pull away.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growled, backing away. You narrowed your eyes, Dean matching your expression. “You can’t smell-”

“I had to take a psychology class as part of my major. It was to understand why people lie, break laws when they know they shouldn’t, stuff like that. I was very good at scenting during interviews. I went a different route but I remember what scents under duress meant.” You backed him up against the door, Dean’s chest vibrating with the low threatening growl he was emitting. “Terror had a very specific profile if I recalled correctly. Very difficult to conceal-”

He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back against the door, hand planted firmly over your mouth. You swallowed thickly, Dean breathing hard.

“Listen very closely because I won’t repeat myself. You are going to quit your job. You are going to call your family and tell them you met your true mate. Then, I’m going to make it look like you died.” Your eyes went wide, Dean’s jaw clenched so hard you thought it might break in half. “You will have your freedom but you will do what I say, when I say, without question. Do you understand?”

Oh, you understood alright. You responded in kind by grabbing his crotch and squeezing so hard he made a squeaking noise as he fell to his knees. He gasped and tried to breathe, hands over his surely bruised cock as you squatted down. You took his chin in your hand, Dean letting out a tiny shiver of pain.

“Do. Not. Bullshit. Me. Stop pretending to protect me and start telingl me the goddamn truth because I have a feeling something seriously fucked up is going on. So you go take a long hard look in the mirror and figure out exactly what you want to say. Or next time? I’m going to crush your dick so hard it never works again.”

You released him and stood up, walking back towards the living room. 

“You’re my true mate? Fucking act like it. Alpha.”

It was an hour later when you heard the soft opening of the bedroom door. You glanced away from the TV playing an old movie, Dean now wearing a plain black shirt and gray flannel pants. He smelled clean and watched him carefully approach the other end of the couch. He gestured to it and you nodded, Dean taking a seat. You turned off the movie and sat up, taking your blanket with you.

Dean sighed, criss crossing his legs and facing you. He rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward, head bowed.

“I joined the bureau after college. FBI. I was a data analyst for a year while I worked on getting into the field office program. I’d wanted to be a cop originally but this was like being a detective for the whole country which I thought was pretty cool. The senior handler in my group did these…side jobs and I got pulled into it. This guy came after me at my apartment in Kansas City and I barely made it out alive. That’s when I found out I was targeted because my handler pissed someone off. They wanted to hurt his team, send a message, and I was the least experienced. They thought they’d kill me.”

Dean shifted in his seat, folding his hands together, still not meeting your gaze.

“When you unknowingly kill a member of the mob, you kind of become target number one for the mob.”

“So you’re in witness protection?” you asked, Dean immediately shaking his head. 

“My handler and the team took care of this mob family. They weren’t particularly large, but they did it. Killed close to fifty people to protect me.” He grabbed his wrist, squeezing it gently. “But it was all a lie. That story I just told you? It’s the same bullshit they told me. My handler it turned out was…”

He breathed deeply, rubbing his palm against his head.

“The whole damn team was crooked. They lied, made me feel like they protected me and that I owed them. They said if we went through proper channels the mob would find out and I’d be dead. They’d torture and kill my family. I was grateful to my team for about five whole minutes,” he breathed out with a dry laugh. “They set me up. It was one big sham. The mob ordered the hit on their own guy and hired my handler to do it. My handler, well he wanted me to be crooked too. And by me killing the guy? By not going through the bureau? He had evidence that I’d committed a murder, made it seem like I was some murderous vigilante. From that day forward, he told me he owned me and he fucking did.”

You pushed your blanket to the ground, inching closer to him. Dean’s back shook, his head buried in his hands.

“He made me help kill people so he could make a profit. He stalked my little brother for seven years, made sure to send me pictures to remind me to keep up my end of the deal.”

“What happened that changed all that?” you said softly. 

“The handler and two other agents on the team died during an operation a few years ago. It was a miracle. The other three agents were injured but…in the chaos, I saw my out andI slit their throats. I needed my family to be safe. FBI believes it was the culprit we were chasing that day. I’d been injured too so I was never suspected. My DNA was on the bodies though, in evidence. I had to change mine and fast. My friend is a doctor…”

“Your friend told you about Novi-Alpha.” He nodded. “So you have to stay on it so you don’t get caught for their murders.”

“If I go off of it and my DNA gets entered into any police database, they’ll know what I did. I can’t let that happen. Not yet.”

You crawled closer, taking his hands into yours, Dean finally looking you in the eye. His own were bloodshot, tired and sad. “But you’re not actually scared about the police finding you. Or the FBI.” He shook his head. “So why do you need to hide your DNA?”

“You assumed I take Novi-Alpha for what it does to DNA. I’m not worried about them connecting me to the murders four years later. If it were that simple, I’d have been off the stuff years ago.” He held his wrist up to your face. “Scent is…unique. Novi-Alpha blocks scent to other Alphas. All they smell is the same base component in any Alpha. I can’t be identified.”

“But…”

“Three years ago I got a letter detailing my exact scent profile, even the shit only my true mate is supposed to be able to scent. Somehow, he knows what I smell like. All it said was that I was next. Thank god he doesn’t know my name or my family would be dead by now. But that letter? It came from the town of Mount Dusk.”

“When you said you hunt people…” you trailed off, Dean nodding. “That’s why you were walking in the pouring rain this morning. You’re searching for this person.”

“There are some recluses around these parts. I’m narrowing it down but it’s difficult. The last thing I wanted, the last thing, was for my true mate to come here of all places. I’m pretty sure this person wants to kill me. I’m still missing pieces. At best, you’re in danger. At worst, this person gets ahold of you and…”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut when you moved his hand to your neck, grazing over your fresh mark. 

“I wish things were different,” he whispered. His head was low, hand only still on you because you held him there. “It’s not fair to you but you can’t have your true mate. In the morning, I’ll get ahold of my doctor friend. He lives a few hours away. He’s nice and it’ll be like having a roommate is all. He’ll make sure you have a good safe life away from all this-”

You leaned forward, capturing his cheeks in your hands as you planted a hard kiss on him. Dean jerked in his seat, wide eyed when you broke it off quickly.

“I don’t understand. You can’t feel our bond,” he said when you put your arms over his shoulders and wrapped your legs loosely around his waist. You sat in his lap, Dean’s skin flush, scent like smoky pines. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Sweetheart, you might be the Alpha but there’s no way I’m leaving you here alone to deal with some asshole that wants to hurt you.” 

“...Alright,” he grit out, clearly not liking that response. “But again, why kiss me? You can’t feel our bond.”

“I can’t feel a stupid bond. It doesn’t mean I can’t feel something for you. I’d like to like you. Deep down, ou’re not the dickhead Alpha you keep acting like. You're just scared. I understand. But I need to stay with you and help you solve this thing that way you can get off that damn medication and we can start our lives together.”

He shook his head, yours shaking right back. “Did you miss the part where I said I was a hitman for years? The Ranger? I had a fucking name in the business and everything I’d killed that many people.”

“You ever kill anyone innocent?” He was silent, frowning at you. “Exactly. And I still feel like you’re making it sounds worse than it was. Let me help you. You may have given up on yourself but I know you’re good.”

“Why would you think that? All I’ve done is yell at you.”

“You saved my life today, Alpha. Before you knew we were mates.” You hugged him tight, Dean burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Warm breath tickled your skin, Dean’s limbs finally squeezing around you. “We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be together and if this is what we’re meant to get through right now then we will. But promise me something.”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t give up on us being able to feel our bond the way we’re supposed to. Someday you can be off that medicine and you won’t have to hide anymore. Promise me that.”

“I promise, Omega,” he murmured over your mark. You sat in a content silence for only a moment, his stomach rumbling loudly. He pulled back and set a hand over his stomach, rubbing it gently. “Sorry. I didn’t eat much today.”

“To be honest, I’m pretty hungry myself. My appetite’s come back since earlier,” you said, moving to your feet. “I bet we can find something.”

“I eat a lot of frozen meals,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as you headed over to the kitchen. “Omega.”

You hummed as you stopped in front of the refrigerator, Dean putting a hand on your arm gently.

“Please let me get it,” he said quietly. You sighed but held up your hands. Your eyes widened when he lifted you up and sat you on top of the counter easily, his fingers brushing lose hair behind your ear. He smirked. “So you are capable of listening to me.”

“I am fine but it stresses you out, me doing anything more than sitting on my ass right now, doesn’t it.”

“Despite the evidence to the contrary, I’m not an asshole that wants to control you,” he said, taking out a package of cheese and some sliced tomato on a plate. He set them beside you along with a stick of butter. His green eyes found yours, Dean settling between your legs, hands on either side of your thighs. “Tomorrow you can be the strong, capable person I know you are. Tonight, let me take care of my omega. It’s not much but I can feel some Alpha instincts for my mate and they are twitchy as hell right now.”

“And me listening to you calms them down?” He nodded, his nostrils flaring briefly. “And you can scent me?”

“Barely but yes. It’s how I know you’re not at a hundred percent right now. It’s different than normal scenting. It’s hard to explain.”

“It makes sense. Make your dinner, Dean.” He hummed, trailing his finger down your thigh before he broke away and moved to the stove. He didn’t speak while he worked on assembling his sandwich but his shoulders did ease slightly. 

A man on the run, hunting down someone who wanted to hurt him. The last thing he wanted was his true mate in the thick of it. A true mate he felt for more than he was letting on but still tried to keep you at arms length to protect you.

“Dean,” you said quietly from the countertop as he dried the pan. He hummed, setting it back on the stove top before leaning back against the island across from you. “You said your Alpha senses towards me, you can feel them?”

He paused a beat before nodding. 

“I know I’m the one that was in the hospital today but are you okay? That’s…a lot to try and deal with and be the strong guy. I get it. Your Alpha brain is going a million miles an hour cause you have a recovering Omega on your hands and you’re hardwired to get crazy protective.”

You slid off the counter down to the floor, taking two steps to reach him. Your hands settled on his firm waist, Dean tensing under the touch. 

“I don’t think you’ve been okay in a long time and today was a bad day. I just…want my Alpha to know he can lean on me too.” Large hands rested over yours, sliding them down until he was holding them, resting them against his thighs. You swallowed, biting your bottom lip. “You strike me as the kind of guy that’ll blame himself for thinking he nearly killed me when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Y/N-”

“You saved me today. My Alpha did. You hurt me by blaming yourself so just don’t, alright? Don’t do that to me.” He parted his soft pink lips, waiting for words to come. But he only sighed, closing his pretty green eyes. “Today’s supposed to be a happy day for us. So let’s be happy, alright?”

“Y/N, it doesn’t work like-”

“You promised you would try. Is my Alpha a liar?” He opened his eyes to stare at you, brow furrowed slightly. “I didn’t think so.”

“Has anyone ever told you how frustratingly annoying you are?” he sighed. You simply smiled, Dean throwing his head back. “Fine.”

He bent down and scooped you up in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck in an effort to cling to something. “What are you doing?”

“You’re quite a needy little Omega, aren’t you,” he said, a flicker of mischievousness in his eyes as he walked down the hallway and into the master bedroom.

“Are you teasing me, Alpha?” you shot back, Dean shrugging, a sliver of a smirk on his face. “So he does have a fun side.”

“Oh, I’m quite fun,” he said, gently resting you on top of the bed. He tucked the covers down and then over your body, hesitating before bending down to press a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be in the room across the hall if you need me.”

“What?” you said, sitting up quickly. His heavy hands caught your shoulders before you could get further. A beat passed and he sat on the edge of the mattress, one of his hands cupping your cheek. “You promised you’d try. You-”

“I can’t share a bed with you. I don’t think I can even kiss you again.” Anger pooled in your core but Dean was already puling away. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck was all that out there then?” you spat back at him. Dean glanced to his lap when you pushed his hands away from you. “I know you feel something here. You want me so don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Omega.” He looked away, shaking his head. “You’re asking me to sleep in a bed next to my true mate. My sweet little mate that I can’t go more than a few minutes without wanting to knot. If I keep kissing you…and if I sleep in here…all I’m doing is putting you in danger of me not staying in control.”

He frowned when he met your face, taking in your confused eyes. 

“You need to start taking that medicine the doctor gave you to help suppress your scent. Tonight. Because all I want to do is claim you properly and if I do, I’ll have fucking killed you.”

“Then stop taking Novi-Alpha and claim me,” you said, stabbing him in the chest. His eyes darkened and you poked him again. “You want to do this right now? Fine. I was going to save this for the morning but I think you’re missing something really fucking important. This person that’s after you? They had your complete and total scent profile? With the true mate stuff? Well guess what? They were bluffing you. It’s physically impossible for anyone except your true mate to know that. Any guesses why they’d do that? Hm? Maybe so they’d get you to move here and look for this guy. Maybe so they could get you alone and isolated and scared while they did what they actually wanted.”

“Which is what?” he asked quietly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“Get you out of the way so you wouldn’t question why the operation with your team lead went bad in the first place. Why you wouldn’t question that the FBI clearly has DNA evidence you killed those other team members but never did anything about it. Did it cross your mind they set it up to kill all of you and they realized you weren’t a part of it so they let you go? I mean how long did you get this threatening note after the murders?”

“...Next day.”

“Which means they have someone working for the FBI undercover out here who knows exactly who you are. They sent you on a wild goose chase to a small town so you’d be out of their hair.”

“Why would they let me go? I’m such a loose end-”

“Jesus christ you idiot,” you said, grabbing his shoulders, yanking him closer. “You are not the bad guy. They are keeping an eye on you out here to make sure you aren’t but that is all it is. There is no one coming after you. If there was, don’t you think they would have gone after your family already? It’s been three years since you killed those your team.”

His hand shot to your throat in an instant, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp.

“I never told you how long it was.” He let go just in time to grab your arm, pushing you back against the wall, caging your body in. He towered over you, eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you and don’t give me that corporate forensic bullshit.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, holding up your hands. “I’m…”

“You’re what?” he growled, grabbing both your wrists in one of his large palms. “A spy? An agent? Someone meant to watch me? Kill me?”

“...I’m the person you were supposed to kill that day. I was the mark. I was…”

“Songbird.” You nodded, Dean’s grip loosening on you. “Songbird wasn’t even a college age girl. Not even eighteen. You’re older. I don’t-”

“They used my highschool picture and altered it with AI. The mark you got from your team leader to kill was a girl that never existed. My dad hired the hit if you want to call it that to see if they could catch them in the act. He’s the senior field officer that was investigating your team. It was always…everyone was supposed to die except for you. You were let go because you were innocent and he knew that. They knew you were manipulated and forced. No one blamed you for killing the others to get out. If you hadn’t done it, they would have. But they couldn’t let you be an agent anymore. It looked bad that they left you on your own to protect your family so it was either kill you or kick you out. My dad advocated that you were a good man and they agreed to keep you under supervision for five years. If you didn’t make any moves in that time that showed you were a killer for hire, you were free to live your life normally. The only person that’s watching you in this town is a retired field officer named Harrison Y/L/N. He goes by Harry.”

“You came here on vacation to visit your fucking dad,” he said, releasing you, taking two large steps back. “You knew this whole time-”

“I found all of this out at the damn hospital today when they called my parents so don’t you blame me,” you said, voice wavering as you felt his anger stir in the air. “My dad dropped the fucking bomb on me and told me not to tell you you a word. And you were so mean and angry and I was scared cause I almost died. He told me you killed people and I was scared you were lying about why you were on Novi-Alpha. I thought maybe he was wrong and you still killed people…because you liked it…I didn’t want you to hurt me if I brought it up. I thought…”

You wrinkled your nose when wetness built up in your eyes, swallowing thickly to try and will it away. Dean approached you, your gaze shooting to the floor.

“Why did you stay if you thought I was a monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” you whispered. You forced your head up, blinking back tears when he tilted his head at you. “The only people you ever killed were those three teammates and a mobster and it was basically self-defense. My dad said those are the only people you ever killed so why would you lie? Why would you make it seem like you did it all the time?”

“To scare you into leaving. It didn’t work obviously. And I might not have pulled a trigger but I did research, I helped those other kills.” You smiled, sniffling once as a tear rolled down your cheek. 

“You’re not that scary, Alpha. I stayed, didn’t I?” He wiped his thumb under your eye, brushing away the wetness that threatened to spill over once more. “I’ll go away if you want me to. But you don’t have to stay on that medicine anymore. No one will hurt you or your family.”

“I am not happy to be used like some pawn in a game. Your father should have come directly to me and I would have told him everything he wanted to know. I’ve been hiding for three years because of this. I haven’t seen my family in three years.” You nodded, looking away. You stepped past him, going to a chair and picking up your hospital clothes into your arms. “And where do you think you’re going?”

You turned around slowly, Dean ripping the clothes out of your hands, throwing them back in the chair.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go wash your face and go to bed because goddamn you have no idea how stressed the fuck out you smell right now. Tomorrow, we are going to the hospital for your follow up check up and I am getting a blood test to make sure there is no more Novi-Alpha in my system. Then we are coming home and I will be claiming you and you’re gonna stop fucking crying because it feels like my soul is tearing in half whenever you do. And when we’re good and ready, we’re going to visit Harry and he will get the FBI off my fucking back so I can get on with my damn life with my Omega. Is that clear?”

“Okay,” you whispered, letting him take your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s been a long day and…can we agree to not keep secrets anymore?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean pulling you into a crushing hug. You relaxed into it, Dean kissing the top of your head. “I thought kissing wasn’t allowed.”

“Fuck it. I’m claiming you tomorrow. A few kisses won’t hurt.”

“Good cause I can use them.” You rested your head against his shoulder, breathing deeply. You felt another across the crown of your head, a tiny smile crossing your lips. “If it makes you feel any better, I told my dad to fuck off for asking me to lie to you.”

“It does a little. My omega is the protective type I’m learning.”

“Yes she is,” you said, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting you. Your knees buckled, Dean catching you in his arms and guiding you to the bed. “Do not say I told you so.”

“I said nothing.” He smiled as you laid back down, closing your eyes. “Get some sleep. We’ll get you cleaned up in the morning, alright?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” you asked, catching a big whiff of his scent as a blanket was laid over top of your body.

“Not tonight. Soon,” he said, turning off the light. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Dean.”

You woke up to the smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh pine floating through the air. Had Dean baked? Throwing the covers back, a wave of scent slammed into you. 

“Morning,” said Dean with a coy smile. He sipped from a coffee mug, leaning against the doorframe. You blinked as you took him in, hands fisting in the sheets when the urge to pounce on him crackled through you like lightning. He chuckled, cocking his head. “Yeah, I know the feeling. You’re like…”

You stood up, crossing the room quickly, Dean catching you in one arm. 

“Calm Omega,” he shushed you when you slammed your lips to his. “After we both pass our checkups.”

Heat pooled between your legs and your eyes flashed wide when you felt something very wet. You both looked down, your face on fire when you realized you’d just made slick…in his fucking boxer briefs.

“I-I’m…” 

“To be fair,” he said, taking a long sip of his coffee before offering the mug to you, “You did proposition me yesterday so this is really nothing.”

You smacked his arm gently, Dean laughing quietly. “I was in serious pain! A-and I think I’m going to go into heat again soon.” You took a drink from the mug, happy to find it wasn’t straight black coffee. 

“Why don’t you get dressed then and we’ll head over to the hospital so we can…” he trailed off, roaming his eyes down your body, shaking his head. He grabbed your arm and started heading for the front door. 

“Dean, I’m not even dressed,” you said. He paused, leaving you in the kitchen before he hurried into the guest room. He exited not five seconds later with a pair of your joggers in hand. “You really can’t wait to knot me, huh?”

“No, I really can’t,” he said, letting you lean on him as you tugged the pants up. He went to the front door, groaning when you started to look around. “Y/N. I’m gonna bust a knot over here.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted one of those cinnamon rolls before we go.” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

“I have no…we can swing by the bakery tomorrow. They normally have really good-” He stopped when you approached him, inhaling sharply with a smile.

“Oh my god, you spell like cinnamon rolls! Like you have all those classic rugged Alpha scents that are to die for but cinnamon rolls? I didn’t know Alpha’s could smell like that.” Dean’s lip ticked up, dipping his head as he put a baseball cap on his head. 

“Winchesters have been known to…smell like baked goods to their mates,” he mumbled, handing you your rainjacket. “Apparently it’s true.”

“Can you scent anything new on me?” you asked, sliding into the jacket, holding onto Dean as you put on your rain booties. 

“You’re not in pain anymore which I like…and you smell like fresh peaches which I didn’t notice before. It’s…nice,” he said as you stood. He flipped your hood up for you, stroking his thumb over your heated cheek. “It, uh, rains a lot here. We’ll have to get you some better gear.”

“We will,” you said, Dean’s fingers tucking your hair under your jacket so you wouldn’t get wet. “Let’s get out of here, Alpha.”

“After you.”

Approximately two hours and thirty seven minutes later, not that you’d been counting, you were shoving a more than wet Dean back against the front door. The urge to mate was strong and now that you both had the all clear, you couldn’t wait another second to have his knot and claim again.

It wasn’t your fault your pulled him out of the car so fast he didn’t have time to get his hood up.

“Alpha,” you purred, reaching for his belt, ripping it out of the loops and tossing it aside. 

“Down girl,” he said in a low, husky voice but his hands were moving as fast as yours. Coats and boots landed in a wet heap on the floor. Your hoodie, which was his hoodie but was your hoodie from now on you’d already decided, was tossed aside as he shrugged out of his flannel.

You growled when he walked towards the fireplace but he shushed you, taking your hand and holding up a finger. You let him have roughly eight seconds to start a fire before you were behind him, reaching for the hem of his heather gray tee shirt. He spun, planting his large hands on your hips, squeezing them so tight you shivered in the best way.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw. Hot breath fanned over your mark, Dean brushing his lips over the still healing gland, barring his teeth against the flesh. It was too hot and you slid his shirt up his body, Dean responding with his approval by growling against your skin. “Fuck, we doing this fast?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” you said, Dean breaking away to rip his shirt off one handed. You barely had a second to take in his muscular body before he tugged your shirt clean off of you, leaving you in only his underwear you still wore. 

“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous.” The way he looked ready to devour you made your stomach do flips, voice caught in your throat when he slowly dragged his zipper downwards. Thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans and he shoved them along with his underwear over a round, tight ass and long, lean legs. 

Your eyes shot to his hard cock as he straightened up, a devilish smirk on his face. He made a show out of stretching his arms overhead, showing off the raw strength of his body, just how fucking broad and powerful he was.

“My omega like what she sees?” he teased when your gaze finally found it’s way back to his handsome face. You licked your lips, Dean chuckling. “S’all yours, sweetheart. Come and take it.”

“Cocky bastard,” you said, making a show out of stepping out of the underwear and tossing it somewhere on the other side of the room. His eyes trailed up and down your body, grin reaching his eyes when you stalked over slowly in front of him. He leaned in close, so many pheromones filling the air you were having a hard time concentrating on not coming on the spot.

“Omega,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. “Hold on tight.”

You were in the air, spun around, back hitting the wall by the fireplace as your legs shot around his trim waist. A greedy moan filled the air when the tip of his cock hit your clit, rubbing it once, twice and you were literally shaking.

“Stop or you’ll make me come,” you whispered. “I-Inside.”

“I’ll torture you another day. Promise.” He winked and shifted his hips back, lining up with you. “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” you said through eyelashes and you swore you felt his heart skip a beat. “Fuck me so hard I feel you for days. Fuck this heat right out of me.”

It was like a switch in his head flipped, the primal Alpha side of him determined to make that happen. He slammed his hips forward, a sharp shock to the system as you stretched around him, just shy of taking his knot. You were absolutely going to be sore but it wasn’t painful thankfully.

The fact you were wetter than the fucking ocean probably had something to do with it too.

Dean rutted into you again, your fingers digging into his back so hard he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck yeah, mark me up.”

You threw your head back when he planted a hand by your head and fucking rammed his cock so hard you screamed. Dean settled into a punishing pace, driving his cock harder and harder, trying to wedge his knot inside your fluttering walls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathed out when you were both covered in sweat, pooling down your chests, Dean’s grunt and groans loud in your ear. 

And then…on the edge of too much pleasure, you felt his swelling knot slip inside, knocking the air out of your lungs. You could feel it expand inside you so rapidly, pushing you higher and higher, you were holding onto Dean for dear life. 

“I’m…” he panted as you nodded. Soft pink lips locked around your bonding gland, Dean’s thrusts becoming erratic and then you felt him bite.

It was a damn good thing Dean didn’t have neighbors with the shout you let out. The tightly wound pressure in your core exploded as warmth flooded your insides. You were floating, flying, head going blank and a million miles an hour.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cling to Dean as an overwhelming feeling of calm washed over you. It was like you’d never know what it was to be alone ever again.

When you opened your eyes, Dean was laying on his back on the floor, staring up at you with the softest smile in the world. 

“Hi,” you breathed out, Dean tucking your hair behind your ear as you straddled him.

“So that’s what it feels like when you feel it too,” he said, planting his palm on your chest, trying to catch his breath. “Wow. I feel-”

“Lighter,” you said, lowering yourself down, planting your arms on either side of his head. Dean leaned up and kissed you, hand winding it’s way to the back of your neck, keeping you close. It was less urgent, gentle in how he moved his lips. He grinned when you ran a hand through his sweaty, damp hair. 

“I think you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart,” he teased, dragging his knuckles over your cheekbone. 

“Such a shame. I thought you’d be taller.” He laughed so hard you felt it in your bones, Dean grinning when you splayed out on top of him and rested your chin on his chest. “So you’re not all broody every moment of the day after all.”

“Careful, Omega. Your grump might even let on that he likes to cuddle.”

“Oh, he does? Well we’ll be sure to explore that side of you,” you said. You grinned as he stroked your face, a warm cozy feeling settling deep down inside. “You know, I-” 

Dean’s gaze flickered away to something behind you, his eyes flashing wide before two things happened very, very quickly.

The sound of multiple windows breaking and the door being kicked in crashed through the air, letting the sound of the pouring rain become even more pronounced. You may have paid more attention to the deafening sounds if it weren’t for what Dean did.

He was knotted to you, buried to the hilt inside of you with at least twenty minutes remaining before he would deflate and the two of you could separate. It was a way of being close, being intimate, feeling one another. Knots could not be removed without severely injuring the receiving partner. 

And yet, in what felt like less than a second, Dean literally ripped you off of his body and dropped you onto the floor in one swift motion. It felt like a sucker punch as you waited for the pain but all you felt was Dean standing, grabbing you with one hand to push you behind him. 

There were people in the house, dressed head to toe in black and with large guns. And you and Dean were trapped buck naked backed up against the fireplace with nowhere to go.

________

A/N: Read the final part here!

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3 you’re here pt 2

series masterlist 💋

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: angst, break up, cheating!!, cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

You watched as Ellie stuffed her duffel bag with all her clothes out of your shared closet, at least you’d have more space for new clothes, you’ll definitely do some online shopping later to cheer yourself up.

You’ve stopped crying at this point, you decided that Ellie’s not worth your tears right now she doesn’t deserve to see you in this state, you won’t let her have it. Instead you wiped your heavy tears away and tried to stay calm … at least until she left.

Ellie shifted from her kneeling position as she finished packing her things up, she was ready to leave. She tried to get close to you one last time, a poor attempt to initiate a hug which you declined with taking a step back. What the fuck was that?? you thought, she couldn’t stop making this more awkward than it already was.

“I just want you to know that.. i want to try to be friends i can’t throw away everything we went through and i hope you feel the same way..maybe not now but one day ”

Her voice broke mid sentence, but you wanted to laugh in her face. You just threw away everything we had you asshole is what you wanted to say but you bit your tongue.

You wanted to scream at her

i did everything for you! I did everything to make you happy, i gave you my all and you did fucking nothing! Why couldn’t you end things sooner huh? Fucking coward all you did was waste my time and efforts Ellie, fuck i hope you’re happy fucking Dina every night just like you did on your little studying sessions.

“i know you probably hate me and i’m really sorry i just…fuck i fell in love with her you know? I didn’t meant to i swear i-“

She went on and on with her rambling, stopping when she noticed you weren’t listening to her bullshit anymore. All she said was that Dina was better than you, you got it like 20 minutes ago fuck.

“Goodbye Ellie”

at this point you pushed her out of the doorframe, she pleaded you to let her say goodbye properly whatever the fuck that means. You didn’t wanna find out. Ellie was still so immature in the head..poor girl will never know what she wants. Yeah that was probably it you tried to make sense of the situation but it was just stupid. It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t love you the way you deserved, it wasn’t your fault that she needed to ruin what you’ve built for some short term fun.. you were her first kiss, her first time, her first love her first everything.

You guess her thirst for new experiences won against years of loving each other.

You remembered meeting Ellie when you were little, she’d always get into fights with kids that were mean to you on the playground. She was your hero and you believe that you loved her from the very beginning. She’d talk your ear off about space, dinosaurs and how she wanted to become an astronaut when she grows up and you believed in her, you always did.

The day before she asked you to be her girlfriend, Ellie introduced you to her Father, Joel. It was such a beautiful day you got along so well and he absolutely loved you. You were convinced that you were going to marry Ellie one day…how wrong you were.

Once Ellie was accepted into college you were the first one to know but Ellie.. Seattle is so far away.. you were so happy for her but you weren’t made for a long distance relationship. I know but.. i want to get into Aerospace engineering and it’s the best place for that babe.. come with me? Please?

just like that you applied for your dream major and got accepted in no time. You wished things would’ve gone differently..

You shrugged off the memories that were floating in your head as you plopped on your king sized bed, face down on your fluffy pillows. You groaned loudly and forced yourself up against the bed frame, grabbing your phone you left on the nightstand.

Mindlessly scrolling through instagram you stumbled across a picture of her.

It was a mirror selfie in a free weights section of some gym..she was in a tight competition shirt and grey sweats, boxers peeking out just a tiny bit as she flexed her big beefy arms..god you could almost count the muscles on her stomach.

Her blonde locks were tied in a loose braid, little strands framing her freckled face..okay that’s enough you thought as you clicked on her profile taking in every picture her hands are so big you bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together without even noticing has Abby Anderson always been this hot??

Of course she has..straight A student biology major scholarship basketball team captain daughter of one of the greatest neurosurgeons in the state Abby Anderson

Ellie never told you about her feud with her..she just told you to stay away from her at all costs. Babe it doesn’t matter just ignore her trust me she’s no good..i fucking hate her guts is what you recall her saying after Abby greeted you in the hallway like one time.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice that you accidentally liked one of her newest stories oh no no no fuck!! you panicked and threw your phone on your bed far away from you.

ding!

ding!

ding!

please be Ellie you prayed to god that it was Ellie hoping she left something important behind but you were wrong.. maybe you should just end it all now…

after contemplating your entire life for about 5 minutes you dared to click on Abby’s messages

hey doll

heard about your breakup.. Ellie’s a dick anyway lol

want me to cheer you up?

🎀

pt 3

[janiehellion]

Troublemaker

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon knew better than to challenge you, yet the thrill of breaking the rules was too tempting to resist. He let you play your game—by his own rules—because certain forbidden lessons in trouble were just meant to be learned.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: TEACHER!DARYL DIXON X FEM!STUDENT READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / BLOWJOB / CUNNILINGUS / TEASING / ROUGH SEX / TABOO

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.350

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @mikes-babygirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: A quick heads-up—I changed the setting from a typical school to college, and made Daryl a younger substitute professor, instead of a regular and much older teacher on purpose. I just wanted the story to feel more comfortable and kinda more mature overall. Even though it’s fiction, I don't want to cross certain lines. But I do hope that I've still done the request justice, after all...

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You walked into the room, already preparing yourself for another boring day at college. It wasn’t that you hated college exactly—it was just more of the same, day after day. You threw your bag next to your desk and sat down in your seat, scrolling through your phone while the other college students started to get ready for class.

But then you looked over to the door.

Of all people to be teaching today—it was him. Mr. Dixon. Just your luck. You’d always had a problem with this guy. Sure, he was good-looking—annoyingly good-looking, actually—but that just made it worse. Someone that hot shouldn’t have the right to be such a pain in the ass. And the constant lecturing like he knew everything? He had that whole "I’m smarter than you!" attitude, and it drove you crazy.

He hadn’t done anything yet, but just the sight of him was enough to piss you off.

And as soon as he started the lesson, talking and gesturing around, you immediately zoned out.

It just didn’t matter.

You were more focused on how he stood there, acting like he had everything under control and looking all arrogant. You hated that. And there was no way you were just going to sit through this class quietly.

So you raised your hand slowly.

"Yeah?" Mr. Dixon turned to you, raising an eyebrow in that way that made you want to punch his face.

You shrugged, leaning back casually. "Just wondering... what’s the point of all this? I mean, history? It’s not like we need this for our major. This has nothing to do with what we're actually studying."

He looked irritated but kept his cool. Of course he did. "It’s 'bout understandin' why the world works the way it does—no matter what field you’re in."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, right. Like learning this bullshit is gonna pay my bills."

A few students laughed, but Mr. Dixon's expression didn’t change. "The point of learning history is to understand how people like ya keep makin' the same mistakes—and why they're still broke."

"Sounds like a waste of time," you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He paused, staring at you for a moment longer than necessary, so you leaned forward, looking into his eyes as if daring him to say something else. He wouldn’t. He knew better.

Daryl sighed loudly and continued with the lesson, but you weren’t done. Throughout the class, you kept at it—making comments or sighing dramatically in annoyance every time he explained something.

At one point, you put your feet up on the desk, pushing your chair back lazily. "Seriously, Dixon, can we speed this up? Some of us have better things to do."

His eyes looked toward your legs, then back to your face, but he didn’t say anything. He was trying hard to keep his cool.

With a yawn, you stretched your arms over your head, and as time went on, you decided to continue.

"So, Dixon," you said loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Ever thought about getting a real job instead of just playing teacher?"

This time, he paused. Really paused.

You knew you’d provoke him eventually, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to react.

But instead, he just gave you a small, almost unnoticeable smirk. "Careful, ya might just find out I’m more qualified than ya think."

Your heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

In one way or another, you spent the rest of class barely paying attention, since something about that smirk he gave you before had pissed you off more than usual.

As soon as the bell for the break rang, you waited near the classroom door, pretending to chat with a few friends until he left the room as well. Once the hallway was empty and everyone was out of sight, you slipped back in.

First, you walked up to his desk, staring at the pile of papers he's left there. It was all so organized, so... proper. You hated it. With one quick move, you knocked the papers to the floor, scattering them all over the place.

Your eyes then landed on his bag on the chair behind the front desk. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it and looked through it. There were a few personal items still inside—a notebook, some other papers, and a lighter.

"A smoker, huh?"

You then looked through the notebook. There were random notes, lesson plans, and other things you didn’t even care about, but something about it being his made you want to ruin it. Without hesitating, you ripped out the pages, tearing them apart.

"Not enough..."

You grabbed the lighter, turning it on, before you held it to some of the torn-out pages, watching it burn for a few more seconds before dropping it onto the pile of papers on the floor, while making sure the windows were open to avoid triggering the smoke alarm.

Anything to piss him off.

And just as you were about to leave, your eyes landed on his coffee mug, which he's left behind. That stupid mug he always carried around. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it, throwing it against the wall, and before anyone could catch you, you slipped back out of the room, blending in with the crowd of other college students outside, acting like nothing had happened.

Soon, the break was almost over, but the classroom was still empty. Mr. Dixon walked in first, and the second he saw the mess, his eyes widened—papers torn and burned, the broken coffee mug on the floor... He didn’t say anything; he just stood there, taking it all in.

"Ugh… Really?" He mumbled to himself. "Yer testing me, huh? Alright then."

He walked around the room slowly, closing the open windows and getting rid of the chaos you'd left behind.

"Ya want my attention?" He said quietly, almost like he was talking to you even though you weren’t there. "Ya sure as hell got it."

He should’ve been pissed, but there was something that made him more curious than angry.

Now, he quickly straightened up as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He watched the door, waiting for you to walk back in, knowing full well what you’d done.

The college students soon began walking back into the room, and you were one of the last to come in, casually late, throwing yourself into your chair while your eyes looked to Mr. Dixon, standing at the front, but... with no hint of anger.

His eyes soon met yours for a second—just long enough to make your heart race—but then he looked away again.

"Alright," he began, "we’re gonna continue with something different now."

He walked to the front of his desk, grabbing a stack of books he'd brought with him to the classroom—Divided Loyalties. He held one up, flipping through the pages and then passing them out. As you grabbed your copy, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. American Revolution? Really?

"This play's 'bout a family torn apart by their opposing views," he explained, walking slowly in front of the board. "Patriots, loyalists, people choosing sides. The family in this play has to decide where their loyalty lies—what side of history they wanna be on. Some of 'em follow, others... they go with what’s expected. Either way, their choices split 'em apart."

He didn’t say it outright, but you felt it. He picked this damn play on purpose.

You tapped your fingers on your copy of the book, half-listening to him, half-lost in your thoughts. It was like he was waiting for you to make a move. But what move exactly?

"The point of this," he said, moving around again, "is that sometimes we get pulled in two directions. Loyalties get tested. But what matters is whether or not ya own yer choices."

That last line felt like it was meant just for you. There it was again—that feeling. Unspoken, electric. Like you both knew exactly what was happening between the two of you, but neither of you wanted to admit it.

He stepped away, continuing with his explanation about the play.

"Ya know," he continued, leaning back against his desk, arms crossed again. "A lotta people thought on either side they were just troublemakers. Pissin' off each other, causin' problems... all 'cause they couldn’t keep their mouths shut." His eyes looked to yours again, almost like a challenge.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the book, but his voice, his presence—it was all too distracting somehow. He knew exactly what he was doing. And it was working.

One of the students sitting a couple of rows over raised their hand. "Mr. Dixon, did you ever have to deal with that? Like, divided loyalties? You seem like you know what that feels like."

He paused, smirking a bit, but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he was looking almost amused. "What makes ya say that?"

The student shrugged. "I dunno, just the way you talk about it. It’s like you’ve been through some stuff and things yourself."

"Let’s just say I’ve seen my share of... divided loyalties." He glanced at the board. "But that ain't the point of the lesson."

Another student chimed in. "What did you do before teaching, anyway? You weren’t always here. You don’t seem like... a regular teacher."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "That’s because I’m not. Jus' a substitute, fillin' in until I finish my graduate program. I’m workin' toward my Master’s in Education. Right now, I'm here until the regular prof returns. Ya don’t have to worry; I ain't stickin' 'round forever."

Your curiosity was growing, though you’d never admit it. He didn’t fit the type of a normal professor at all, and now it was obvious why. He wasn’t one. Well… Not really.

"Now, back to the lesson," he continued. "Troublemakers…" He said the word slowly, like he was testing it out. "Sometimes, trouble’s what shakes things up. Forces people to finally pay attention."

Your heart was racing faster and faster. He was toying with you, and you knew it. He was playing a game, and you hated how much it was getting under your skin. But part of you... part of you liked it. The push, the pull, the challenge between the two of you. He wasn’t like the other teachers who'd have scolded you by now. No, he was letting you come at him, daring you to make your next move and to fuck up.

And you couldn’t help but play along.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms with a bored look on your face. "It's just another pointless play to rot our brains with bullshit that we don't even need for our future."

He gave you a quick glare, but he was still rather unimpressed with your attitude. "If ya think it’s pointless, maybe ya ain't puttin' enough effort into understanding it."

"Effort?" You snorted and smirked. "The only effort I see is you trying to make us suffer with bullshit no one even gives a fuck about."

He narrowed his eyes at you, but he was still in control. "Perhaps if ya paid more attention, ya’d understand why this bullshit is still relevant."

"Relevant? Don’t make me shit myself," you snapped back, now leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk.

The room was quiet, all eyes looking between you and Mr. Dixon, but no one else dared to say anything.

Daryl sighed, clearly fed up somewhere deep inside. "That’s quite a way to talk to a teacher."

"Yeah? But you aren't a real teacher, nor will you ever become a professor, so what are you going to do about it?" You shot back. "Get me suspended? From college? As if any prof would even do that! Or how about you give me detention? Oh wait, you’re already doing that with your shitty lessons."

He stepped closer to you, smirking as well. "Watch ya damn mouth an' shut it."

"Or what?" You taunted. "Are you going to make me?"

His eyes were burning into yours, and for a moment, it felt like there was something else there in them—something else than simple irritation and annoyance.

"Is that what ya want?" He asked, putting his hands into his pockets. "For me to give ya what yer askin' for?"

"Oh, please! Like that’s going to make any difference!" You laughed back at him, waving one hand in dismissal.

"Yer testing my patience," he answered, his voice still calm. "And yer 'bout to find out how far I’m willin' to go to get ya suspended, if that's what ya really want. Or maybe expelled. Even if this is college."

The room was dead silent, the other students watching with wide eyes and whispering to each other. But you didn’t care.

"Expelled, huh? Those are some serious words for someone who’s barely even qualified to be teaching," you smiled.

Daryl didn't respond immediately; he just stared at you with that still calm expression. Like he was holding back.

Finally, he took a step back. "Ya think this is a joke?"

You shrugged, yawning and smirking at him. "Well, I’m not exactly learning anything here, so yeah, it really is kinda funny."

But the smirk on your face faded the second he slammed his hands down loudly on your desk, making you jump.

"Enough!" He said, his voice only a growl.

You opened your mouth to snap back once more, but he cut you off before you could even speak.

"Detention," he continued. "After school. We’ll see how ya will act when there’s no one else 'round to laugh.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back, trying to seem unimpressed. "Fine. But I’m not scared of you, Dixon."

He walked back to the front desk, giving you one final look. "Ya will be."

The bell rang soon enough, and everyone else went to walk out of the room. You stood up slowly as well, watching Daryl write notes down on a paper at his desk like nothing had happened.

But that last glare? That look in his eyes? You couldn't think about anything else as the hours passed.

And now you had detention with him. Alone.

Detention had seemed more appealing than getting suspended or expelled, of course, especially from college by a substitute teacher who still didn't graduate himself yet, but it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for in one way or another. Mr. Dixon had made it clear you’d be staying after the lessons, and now here you were, sitting at the front of the room, waiting for him to show up.

The minutes ticked by until Mr. Dixon walked in, his face looking as neutral as ever.

"Well, well, well," he started as he stood near the door, closing it slowly. "I didn't think I'd actually be seein' ya here." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But here we are."

"Guess I just wanted to make it all a little more exciting for myself," you shot back.

He stepped closer, not invading your personal space but close enough. "Excitin', huh? Or just plain stupid?"

"Depends on who you ask," you replied, crossing your arms. "What’s next, more boring lectures? Another dumb play?"

"Maybe... or maybe I’ll find another way to keep your attention," he said, taking another step closer.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right. As if you could keep me interested. You don’t scare me, Dixon; I've said it before, and I'll always say it again. Why? Wanna try me? I dare you to try."

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, the move sending adrenaline straight through your body in an instant. "Careful what ya wish for."

His eyes moved down to your lips, and for a short moment, you thought he might actually kiss you. But as fast as that thought came into your mind, you quickly pushed it away again.

"Maybe ya wanna find out how far I’ll go to teach ya a lesson," he challenged, his breath smelling like cigarettes.

"Maybe I do," you replied. "Or maybe I don't."

He let go of your wrist and walked back to the front desk, but the distance between you still felt nonexistent.

"And I don't care," he answered, setting the book from all those hours before down on the desk. "Yer going to reread Divided Loyalties again. I want ya to pay close attention this time. Maybe ya will finally learn, or at least shut up."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. "Like learning how to deal with your bullshit?"

He ignored the comment. "Start readin'. I’ll be gradin' some papers in the meantime."

You shrugged, picking up the book. But as you looked through the pages, an idea started forming in your mind. If Mr. Dixon wanted you to take this seriously, you were going to make it interesting—by your own rules.

You looked over at him, already busy with his grading. Perfect. You began to read aloud, but not in the way he might have hoped, interpreting the text in your own way and playing around with the words.

"Forsooth, thou hast a long and sturdy lance," you read, your voice now louder on purpose. "I’d wager it could penetrate any barrier with ease."

His head moved up and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, choosing to let you continue.

You pressed on as you read. "Verily, thy bedchamber is most inviting. I am most eager to partake in its pleasures."

You leaned back in your chair, watching him closely as you continued. "Our loyalty lies not just in our words, but in the way we... entertain each other behind closed doors."

His eyes looked at you again, and you could see the struggle on his face to keep his calm. It was clear you were getting under his skin, and you loved it.

You let out a rather quiet laugh, closing the book and stretching yourself. "You know, Mr. Dixon, I think I’m starting to understand the ‘divided loyalties’ part. Sometimes, it’s hard to stay loyal to something when there are so many... distractions."

Daryl raised an eyebrow with a small yet almost unnoticable smirk. "Okay, enough," he said. "Let me tell ya somethin'. In this room, I'm in charge. Ya will do as I say as long as I am yer teacher."

"Fine," you answered him through clenched teeth, glaring at him. "But let me tell you something as well, Dixon. In this room, I'm not going to just sit here and do shit! And I want something in return. Deal?"

Daryl leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. "And what exactly would that be?" He asked, his blue eyes looking at you with a frown.

"I want..." Your voice trailed off as you tried to find the right words. "I want... you," you finally said, the words surprising even yourself.

Daryl just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "If ya wanna play that kinda game, then I'll play along. But only if ya agree to my terms."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart racing in your chest. This just got too real, even for your taste, but what were you expecting? You didn't know. But part of you wanted this as much as you tried to deny it. "Wait… What? What terms exactly? What…"

"First, this stays between us. No one can know about our... arrangement. Second, ya will do whatever I say, both in and outta this room. And third, ya will keep up with yer damn work from now on and calm down with yer shitty behavior."

You nodded slowly, feeling your pulse racing at the thought of what you're about to agree to. "Fine," you answered. "I accept your terms."

Daryl then moved towards you again. "Good," he said, reaching out to cup your chin with his hand. Then it happened. He leaned in closer once more. Your breathing stopped for a moment as his lips brushed against yours, teasing you with a hint of a kiss.

"Dixon," you breathed, half a protest and half a plea. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Shut up," he murmured against your lips before kissing them fully, his hands framing your face.

The kiss was intoxicating—all heat and urgency. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, feeling the world around you fade away while tasting nicotine on your tongue… and you wanted more.

"Yer gonna do everythin' I tell ya to do," he mumbled, his lips brushing lightly against your ear after he broke the kiss. "And if ya disobey me, there will be consequences. But I think ya know that by now, don't ya?"

You gasped as one of his hands moved away from your chin, along the side of your neck, before slipping beneath the collar of your shirt, grabbing it, and pulling you out of the chair toward the front desk.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling yourself already getting wetter with every passing second. "I know and I understand."

Daryl's grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you let out a small moan. "Good," he said, smirking a little. "Now, ya better be gettin' down on yer knees."

You hesitated for just a moment before slowly sinking down onto the floor of the room, watching as Daryl undid the button of his pants. "Take it out," he commanded.

You reached out with trembling hands, fumbling around as you pulled his thick, hard cock out.

"Now, put it in yer mouth," Daryl said. "And don't ya dare bite down on it."

You smirked and leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the head of Daryl's cock and sucking gently while looking up at him. He let out a groan, his fingers holding your head and playing with your hair as he began to guide you and move his hips.

"That's it," he murmured. "Jus' like that. Suck it harder. Show me how much ya wanna be good again."

You obeyed his command, applying more pressure with your lips as you worked your way further down his swelling shaft. His breathing got more uneven, and you could tell just how much he was enjoying this already.

"Yeah, jus' like that," he said breathlessly, his hips beginning to thrust forward a little harder. "Oh fuck, yer so good at this."

You felt yourself getting even more turned on by his words and reached down between your legs, sliding your fingers inside your pants and beneath your panties, stroking gently at your swollen, aching clit.

Daryl must've sensed the change in your behavior because he suddenly pulled away from you, his cock slipping out from between your lips. "That's enough for now."

He reached down, helping you to your feet before leading you over towards the desk at the front of the room. He bent you over it, your tits and stomach pressed against the surface.

"Now, get those pants off and spread yer legs for me," he said. "I wanna see how wet ya are."

You obeyed his command again, parting your legs as wide as they'd go after pulling down your pants and panties. Daryl let out a growl as he took in the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers sliding over your wet folds.

"Oh shit, jus' look at how fuckin' wet ya are," he mumbled. "Ya really wan' it, don't ya? Since when, huh?"

You let out a gasp as Daryl's fingers found your clit. "Who knows?" You moaned quietly. "Maybe I did want you to fuck me all along."

Daryl didn't respond right away; instead, he continued to tease you with his fingers. "Good t'know," he finally said. "First, I wanna taste ya. I wanna feel that sweet lil' pussy against my tongue. But don't ya worry. I promise it'll be worth the risk."

With that, Daryl got onto his knees, with his head between your legs, his tongue moving out to make contact with your swollen, aching clit from behind, licking it and sucking at your folds, his tongue moving slowly on purpose.

"Oh fuck, Dixon," you moaned quietly again, your legs starting to tremble a little. "Right there. Yes..."

"Fuck, ya look so sexy like this," Daryl said and kept licking and sucking before sliding two fingers deep inside to pump them in and out of you a few times. "Ya taste so fuckin' good," he continued. "Could eat ya out all day an' night. But I wanna feel ya cum all over my cock next. Hell, I love how yer pussy looks when 's all wet an' ready for me," he mumbled, sliding his fingers out of you again.

You gasped softly, your hips bucking back, trying to meet his hand and face once more. "Hell, just... I need more," you pleaded, your voice shaking while you tried not to tremble too hard.

"Jus' wanted to make sure that yer wet an' ready for me 'fore I give ya what ya want," he said, gripping and stroking his hard, leaking cock.

"Dixon," you begged with a whimper. "Just fuck me already, okay?"

Daryl smirked, clearly unable to resist your begging any longer. "Alright, sweetheart," he answered, positioning himself between your legs before slowly pushing his cock inside you from behind. "I'm gonna make ya feel so fuckin' good, girl."

You let out a gasp again as his cock pressed up against your dripping wet pussy, tormenting you with the tip for several long moments, then sliding the thick, hard shaft of it back and forth over your wet folds, before he filled you up completely, his thickness stretching your pussy walls deliciously. "Jus' take it. Take every single inch of my cock deep inside ya."

You obliged eagerly, pushing back and pulling him even deeper inside you with each passing thrust, trying not to groan out loud at the feeling of being stretched and stuffed so deeply.

"Oh fuck, ya feel so damn good," he said, his fingers digging into your hips as he started to pound away at your pussy with a little bit more force. "Shit, I could fuck ya all the damn time an' never get tired of it."

"Oh, fuck yes!" You groaned in response as Daryl continued to thrust in and out of you.

As he soon fucked you harder and deeper, you could feel your orgasm building up inside you, threatening you to make you scream out loud.

"I'm so fucking close already," you panted as you held onto the edges of the front desk for dear life. "Please... don't stop! Don't fucking stop!"

"Oh shit," you moaned and whimpered as he continued to fuck you. "Harder, please, harder."

And Daryl didn't disappoint you. He fucked you hard, his cock pounding in and out of your pussy in quick, rapid thrusts.

"Ya wanted this, didn't ya?" He growled out. "Ya wanted me to fuck ya like this."

You nodded eagerly. "Yeah, shit, I did… I do!"

"Ain't gonna stop until I've made ya cum all over my cock, sweetheart," he said, increasing the speed, which immediately brought you to the edge like you've never experienced before.

"I'm cumming! Oh fuck, I'm cumming!" You whimpered, your entire body tensing up, and just as you thought, your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb, your pussy clenching around him, gripping his cock as if not wanting to let go. But Daryl didn't stop, even after you've finished.

And just as you were coming down from your orgasm, he suddenly pulled out, his breathing ragged. "I’m 'bout to cum," he groaned, wanting to finish himself off, and started to stroke his cock, ready to let go, but then you acted on instinct. You couldn't just let him finish without you, not like this.

Quickly, you dropped to your knees and took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him hard just as he began to cum, brushing your teeth ever so lightly over the throbbing shaft. Daryl let out a deep moan, surprise and shock written all over his face as he found himself clearly unable to resist.

You sucked his cock hard, moving your tongue around the tip before taking him as deep as you could. His hands immediately found your hair, urging you on, and you responded by increasing the pressure of your lips. "Oh fuck, jus' like that," he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of your mouth.

"Jus' a lil' more," he urged, his voice trembling, but you wanted to draw it out. You picked up your pace, pulling back fast just to tease him before taking him deep into your mouth again. You could feel his cock throb and pulse against your tongue, and you knew he couldn't hold back any longer.

Finally, he lost it. "I can’t—oh fuck!" He tried to keep his groans quiet as he began to cum, his warm load filling your mouth as you swallowed down every drop, refusing to simply let him cum all over you like he'd wanted to.

Once he was finished, you pulled away, but not before licking his shaft from the base to the tip once more and looking up at him with a smirk.

"Shit, ya really are one hell of a distraction," he mumbled, catching his breath and slipping his cock back into his pants with trembling hands.

You stood up, pulling your clothes back on as you caught Daryl’s eye. He suddenly seemed different now—annoyed, maybe? But you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

Daryl cleared his throat, straightening up and sitting down on the desk with a serious look on his slightly red face, while also trying to adjust his still half-hard cock in his pants. "This was a one-time thing. Got it?"

"Sure, just a one-time thing, Mr. Dixon," you replied innocently, but you couldn’t resist adding, "I mean, it’s not like I’ll ever forget a one-time lesson like this while having something as ridiculous as detention... but I bet reading Divided Loyalties won't be a one-time thing, isn't that right?"

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Yer such a damn troublemaker." Daryl shot back, crossing his arms over his chest as if he could shield himself.

You sat down on the edge of the front desk as well, pushing your luck further. "Maybe I really am. How else could I have gotten you to break the rules?" You bit your lip, watching the way his jaw tightened.

"Ain't 'bout that. Ya really need to get yer shit together, or I’ll have to start disciplinin' ya for real," he warned, but the look in his eyes betrayed him, showing you he was still fighting with the thoughts about what you both just did.

You couldn’t help but laugh all over again, rolling your eyes playfully. "You disciplining me? That’d just make me want to misbehave more. Besides, who would ever believe you? The hot substitute who gives other collegians detention and an extra special lesson? Sounds like something you only find in certain writings, if you ask me. So, don't shit your pants about it."

"This ain't a joke. I may not be a real teacher yet, but I have to follow the damn rules."

"Sure, but isn’t it fun to break the rules once in a while?" You asked to provoke him and leaned in. "Let’s be honest, Dixon. This was way more exciting than any discussion about Divided Loyalties."

His breath hitched, and for a short moment you could see the real man beneath again. But then he straightened up, shoving any emotions aside. "Get outta here. We’re done now."

"Sure… We’ll see about that." You grabbed your bag, trying to hold back a smile as you turned to leave. But just before closing the door, you glanced back over your shoulder at him. "Do not be fooled; I am but a mere troublemaker in thy class, yet my mischief will find thee again—so prepare thyself."

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 *  assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding. Part 4.

Warnings- Angst, fluff, danger and a fan crush moment. -----------------------------------------------------

“Romanoff?” “Tony get your ass here Y/n is in danger” “What?” “Just get here!”

“Tony, is everything okay?” Bucky asks, noticing the worried look on Tony's face. “What did Natasha say?”

“Nat said they are in trouble, more like Y/n is in danger.” Tony replies.

“What happened?” Steve asks immediately, a bit of panic seeping into his voice, as he realized you and Natasha are in danger. “Where are you going? What’s going on?”

Few hours ago...

“Y/n talk to me” “Nat I'm fine”

“Come on!” she says, grasping your hand, pulling you along. “Let's just walk and talk...”

“Okay, fine…” you agree, letting her guide you along. As you two make your way down the sidewalk, Natasha pauses and turns to you, her expression serious. “Y/n, I know you well enough to know, you are thinking too much. Talk to me babe” You smile, happy at the fact that she knows you so well. “I should have told him, where I was being treated, I hid from him and lost him for good…”

“No, you did not lost him, ok? it was our decision for his own safety, hell we would have done it for Bucky too.” “He is freaking Captain America!!! Nat, he can take care of himself, even if we know it’s the other way around. If he wants to be with someone else, I won't stop him” “He loves you, you both are just going through a major misunderstanding…” “Nat I'm not perfect for him! He deserves someone perfect, like him...” you exclaimed, cutting her mid-sentence. “Did he told you that?” Nat snaps at you. “No…” you mumble, pouting at her, for snapping at you. She just rolls her eyes over your dramatics.

“Then don't jump to conclusions, stay on the ground before doing something stupid!” “Yeah, okay” you respond, feeling a bit tense as you anticipate her next move.

You stop walking, staring at her. Natasha is a smart woman, but god she had no patience for bullshits and over-reactions. But one thing is for sure, everything she says, is true and never ever argue with her.

 “Are you going to keep on staring or what?!” she asks not bothering to stop, or look at you. “Coming, god you can be scary at times!” you raised your hands up in surrender, as she raised her brows at you.

 After some few minutes of silence, you talk again, “So how are things with Bucky?” You can swear on anything, that you saw her blush and choke on air at the same time!

“What did you see or hear?” Nat asks, looking straight ahead, avoiding your gaze. You just smirk at her.

Before you could continue, a guy ran towards you both and pushed Nat in the alley. “What the hell?!” You yell as a man suddenly grabs Natasha and drags her into an alleyway, surprising you both. You quickly aimed your gun at him “Let her go, now!”

“What? Natasha who is with you?” The man holding her was looking in your direction, but not directly at you. “Hey, I said let her go!” You had a firm grip on the gun, ready to shoot, if required.

“Matt?” “What? Do you know him?” you ask her, not lowering the gun. “Y/n, I know him, put the gun down.” “What, are you sure?” Natasha nods and you put your gun back down in your pocket.

The guy name Matt, lets her go and gives a sheepish smile to Nat. “Matt what are you doing here?” she asks him. “I need your help…and” “Wait, how did you know it was me?” you furrow your brows in confusion at her question. “Your perfume that's how I knew you were near…” he answers rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait her perfume? Who and what are you?” you ask looking at him with utter confusion, almost feeling like a third wheel.

“I’m a very good lawyer and you are? He smirks. “Assassin!” you answer proudly.

Nat rolls her eyes, at your antics. “Y/n wait, this is Matt, DD, remember I had told you? and Matt this Y/n fellow avenger and…”  “That's him!” you ask cutting her mid-sentence, “The blind kickass vigilante?” you ask, totally surprise to meet the infamous lawyer finally. “Sorry by the way…” you say quickly, realising you are going ahead in your fan zone.

“It's ok.” he tells you with a smile, before turning to Nat, “You told her about me?” getting serious. “Yes she is my best friend, I tell her everything.” Nat replies with a smirk and a proud smile. “Since when did you started to make friends?” Matt asks in disbelief. “Does not matter to you…” Nat scoffs. “Yeah right!” Matt raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky hair.

You shake your head, getting some control over your fan crush, for the man wearing red tinted glasses.

“Umm...sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I supposed he wants your help with something?” you remind them.  “Yes, right thank you, come this way...” Matt smiles at you, gesturing you and Nat to follow him.

“Not to sound rude, where are we supposed to go and why?” Nat asks in a stern voice, getting serious now. “I was on my way for work, I heard some guys talk about planting a bomb, somewhere here and if my senses are right, that bomb is there. Right at the end of the alley, inside that abandon building” He replies with a serious tone.

“How did you know its abandon?” you ask getting curious.  “Senses” both Nat and Matt reply in unison. “Sorry…” you shrug, not sure whether you offended him or both.

As you three enter the building, you split. With Nat searching the ground floor, you and Matt start looking on the first floor. Most of the walls were collapsed, debris fallen everywhere.

Out of instinct, you helped Matt to walk, making sure he didn’t fall or stumble on anything.

“Sorry, I know you are a vigilante and can take care of yourself, I…”, Matt smiles cutting you off “It’s really nice of you to help me. Yes, I like to be independent, but you helped me out of instinct not because of pity. And I don’t mind a beautiful girl like you, helping me.” He smiles, offering you his arm, which you accept with a red face.

“You are blushing” “No, I'm not...” you bite your lip to hide the smile forming on your lips. “I can hear your heartbeats” he tells you, laughing softly. “Your senses are very admirable…” you smile. “Thank you.”

You both kept looking, from one room to another, before finally entering the last room.

“I don't feel right about this room…” Matt says, getting bit tensed. “Your senses acting up?” you tease, to lighten the mood. Matt laughs heartedly, he looks so cute, “No I think it's in here…” “Well let's keep on looking, or else you might need to get your senses checked. Tony and Bruce can help you.”

“Tony will kill me…” Matt says, as he starts looking around, by poking his stick. “You know him?” you ask, looking in one of the boxes piled up.

“Yes, long story for another day…” he says still looking. “Asking me out already?” You ask, coming to his side. “I don't mind, do you?”

Before you could answer, Matt's pokes a box and it falls on the ground with a loud thud. The box was full of bricks, Matt asks you, what the noise was and you answer, “Bricks. Why keep a box full of bricks?” “Yes, everything here is empty, except for this box…”

“Shit” you both say in unison and look at the place where the box was before. There was the bomb. The weight of bricks, had kept it off. Wires were connected to a box with code pad.

Without a second thought, you both sat on the bomb with half asses.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” “Keeping the bomb off, what are you doing?” “This is no time for being funny, get off now” “If either of us gets off, we are gonna die. The bomb has stopped under our shared weight…”

Some minutes later, Nat comes up looking for you both.

“Guys did you find anything?” She sees you two sitting together and she raises her brow. “Yes we did…” you answer. “What? where is it?” “You are looking at it!” this time Matt answers with anger evident on his face. Seriously why are people snapping today?

Matt explains everything to Natasha. She tries to defuse the bomb, but is unsuccessful. With no other option she texts and calls Tony. 

“Tony is on his way.” Nat tells you both, with a hopeful smile. “Now we wait…” you say sarcastically, to which Nat gives you a smile and Matt is still angry.

Nat makes herself a seat, using few of the empty boxes and sits comfortably.

“Matty smile…” Nat jokes and you try to suppress a laugh, while Matt just ignores you two.

“You know… whatever happens or may not happen… can you try to be less grumpy and smile? You look cute when you smile...” you tease Matt, even though you can see the corners of his lips turning into a smile, he stills acts angry.

“Why did you?” “Why did you?” You both ask each other the same question.

Matt remains quiet and you answer his question, “Matt I have fought worst people, aliens, heck gods and robots. This bomb is nothing.”

Matt was about to say something, but you don’t let him speak, “Don't blame yourself. Even if you had not asked for our help, I still would have been in danger, in some other mission. My job comes with danger, so there's no escaping it. I trust Nat, Tony and everyone else. Nothing will happen to us, Matt.”

Matt starts to relax a bit, “You are good with words…” “Thank you.” “She is good in lots of ways…” Nat winks at you and you give her a ‘what are you trying to do?’ look. “Is that so?” Matt chimes in. “Don't tell me, his senses pick that up?” you laugh.

Back at the compound...

“Come on, metal man, we have to go now!” Tony says, his voice a mix of urgency and concern. “Don't call me that” Bucky warns him. “Are you coming or not?” Tony asks with a raised brow. “I'm coming, they both need us.” 

“Tony wait, I'm coming with you.” Steve tells him. “Steve, please...” Tony replies, clearly feeling torn between wanting to have Steve with him, and knowing that he doesn't want to risk another fight breaking out. “I need you to watch the compound, in case we need anything, I’ll let you know. Trust me on this.” “No, let Bucky stay; I have to come please…” Steve begs and Tony's resolve wavers, as he sees the desperation in Steve's eyes.

“Fine suit up.”

“No! She needs me, not Captain America.” 

A/N: Seriously Charlie Cox is so cute and hot..!

(Comment, feedbacks and reblog are highly appreciated. I hope you all enjoy.)

Part 3 - Part 5

TAGLIST- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Garrick and maybe some Christmas time fluff or a little more

Also xaden x rider idea. Their dragons are bonded mates but not super major to the idea of story. Riders allowed to each have one pet if they choose. Reader has a black cat that loves to chase xadens shadows

Christmas lights

"Be ready at six", that's all Garrick had told you as you two passed through one another in the hall. The past couple of weeks had been so extreme. Constant running around. Barely no time for one another. But it was for a good cause. At least you kept on telling that to yourself. Just some days it got harder and harder to believe it. Yes, the revolution was coming around nicely but it had practically made you forget what having a boyfriend felt like.

You had slipped from one of the meetings you were meant to attend to shower, try to at least look somewhat presentable. That turned just into you washing some of the tiredness away from your face. Yet when it came to getting ready all you managed to do was throw your hair up and pull on one of Garrick's hoodies over your body. Now that the weather was finally reaching below zero, you needed these extra layers.

"You ready?", your boyfriend's voice made you jump slightly as you turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "How long have you been here?", you asked, rubbing a hand over your face. "Ever since you decided to have a staring competition with our dresser", he chuckled slightly, pushing away from the frame, "If you just want to lay in bed, you let me know". Yet something in his tone made it obvious clear that he had plans already made. And you too hadn't done anything together in so long... "I can do anything but training right now", you muttered, letting out a satisfied huff as Garrick pulled you into his embrace, his warmth instantly flowing through your body. "No training, no dragon riding, love", Garrick muttered against the crown of your head before kissing it tenderly.

You had forgotten how much you enjoyed the crisp coldness at this time of the year. And within minutes of walking, you already felt more like yourself. Your head felt lighter and having Garrick right by your side without doubt was the biggest plus. But then you had halted. Right as the lower city streets came into view.

"No", you muttered, pulling at Garrick's hand. "Yes, baby, yes indeed". He had a smug smile on his face, that could only mean one thing. "You knew about this?", you breathed out, stepping further into the light-up street. It's been so long since anyone had decorated for Christmas. A thing here or there at home. But the Riorson house had been bland for years but this... "I saw it yesterday on my way back", Garrick breathed out, "And since you needed a little bit of cheering up", his voice trailed off as he pulled you along.

It wasn't how it usually was back when you were children yet it felt even more special somehow. The lights hung all across the street, with dragon-shaped colorful cutouts. The smell of pancakes and hot chocolate all over. "This is so pretty", you breathed out as you tilted your head up to take in an even more pleasant view. And then you felt it. A cold fluff landing on the tip of your nose. "Did you bargain with someone for snow?", you chuckled, looking at the white cotton clouds falling around. "Yeah, Bodhi is on the rooftop running an ice machine", Garrick chuckled with you following right back.

He had managed to find a less busy corner for you to sit in and even if Garrick wasn't big on affection outside your shared room you were nestled right against his chest, with his jacket wrapped around your sides as you sipped on your hot chocolate. Extra cream and sprinkles became only the best for his girl. He of course had none, besides a couple of sips he stole from your cup because he had to be in shape. Which was bullshit because the guy was practically a walking statue of chiseled muscle.

You felt another kiss on your temple as Garrick snuck his arms around your torso. "Are you having fun?", he muttered quietly as if after to disturb a perfect silence. "More than happy", you muttered, "But then I'm always happy when I'm with you". Reaching up you cupped his cheek lovingly. "I feel shit that we have been slipping apart", he breathed out, making your whole body stiffen. "We haven't been slipping apart. We just...", you halted for a moment, "Well, prioritized everything else over us". No way was this both of your fault so the fact that Garrick was out here carrying the blame for it. "And that shit doesn't sit well with me", he nestled his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. "Happens when you're a part of a revolution", you muttered back, turning as much as you could so you could kiss his head. "We need to set up date nights, then I could tell everyone to fuck off", you chuckled at his words, "Xaden and Bodhi would pay to see that". Garrick snickered slightly even if he tried to hide it, "Should mind their business these two", but then within a heartbeat added, "I do owe it to Xaden because he's covering my shift for me now".

You twirled back almost immediately, "You switched duties to go here... with me...", you shouldn't have sounded so surprised. Garrick had already made you his priority but... it had been so long and... "My baby deserved to be the first to experience Christmas joy", he cupped your face lovingly, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. "Plus, he owns me. He has needs when it comes to Violet", "Spare me from the details, love", you breathed out covering his mouth with your palm.

[ghostismybbygorl]

141 when they're angry and how they cry

Im feeling a little bit angsty tonight 😈

Warnings: self inflicted pain, ptsd, truama responce, crying, anger

Price

It takes alot to get him pissed the fuck off but when he does he blows the fuck up like full blown disappointed dad he will make you cry. This usually only happens if he had a rookie or someone close to him nearly gets killed or a mission goes SOUTH

Again it takes alot to get him pissed if he realizes he getting to that level of anger he'll excuse himself take some breaths smoke like 3 cigars to get his composure together and then he'll address the problem

He's usually just passive aggressive and says some really petty shit

Now he's a silent crier with the occasional sniffer. He's stroke his beard and rub his face with a groan. He hide his face and just silently sit there until he gets his composure. He aslo does breathing exercises to calm him down

Soap

When he's pissed of he'll get really quiet and shit himself off. He does the "im fine" and if you keep prodding at him he'll blow up in a yelling fit.

Hes a angry crier like full blow screaming crying punching things. Hes a whole hurricane when he's MAD

Now he will never lay a finger on anyone he loves if your in the middle of an argument and he starts forming tears he'll storm off and find something to punch. He keeps a punching bag around so that he doesn't have to hurt himself on anything. he wont punch the walls because he'd be the one fixing it.

He one time got so pissed he dissapeard and ghost found him curled up by a tree that had obviously taken a beating. his knuckles will be bleeding and bruised. He'll be a sobbing mess hyperventilating, hiccuping, coughing ghost would have to calm him down and try to get him leveled

Hes the screamer type crier he'll be holding something just wailing. If you ask him whats wrong he will just pull you in a hug and just let it loose.

Ghost

(Alright so in the comics he was in a abusive household where his dad would beat his mom and he would terrorize him with new foreign animals and he witnessed his dad murder a woman at a concert and he just told him to laugh it off. He was captured and tortured to near death being buried with his comrad so he has MAJOR PTSD from it so this kind of falls into the senario)

He tries HARD to not loose his composure in fear that he will be like his dad and loose his shit

Hes goes quiet and shuts himself off. Like price he'll excuse himself and get his composure together. He raises his voice and will warn you that you're pissing him off and to stop immediately. If you don't stop he'll tell you "that's enough!" And storm off

His whole aura will change and you can feel the anger radiate off of him. He's the type to go "its fine don't worry about it" if you ask before storming off to somewhere quiet

so theres this trauma response where if someone you know where to get hurt or something just makes you snap you start laughing i feel like ghost has that especially in the comics he has a ptsd attack and just starts laughing

When he has an attack he'l start with a chuckle and then it just mores into a sick laugh and itll just turn into him full blown sobbing and laughing at the same time

He's also a silent crier so if he's severly overstimulated he'l lie down and his eyes will start becoming waterfalls. No sniffles he just stares while his eyes soak the floor

Gaz

He RANTS when he's pissed the fuck off. He will call you out in your bullshit and roast the fuck outta you. he does the hand clap, waves his hands in the air everything. He's a bery level headed person but if you say something that pushes that button right be ready for a blow up

He doesnt get violent whats so ever unless the person provokes it. His dad (price lol) taught him to not start a fight but finish it and he damn well finish one.

He super sarcastic when he's irritated and is passive aggressive

"And thats why your mamas dead.... dead as hell"

When he cries he has tears streaming down his face and he does the quiet sobs that will turn into hiccups and him rubbing his eyes constantly

He doesnt cry that much (except for weddings hes a sucker for them) and he usually doesnt show anyone that he's crying (except for the weddings 😂)

[poraphia]

"Stupid Student Things"

wilbur x student!reader 410 words ~ 8.17.23 a/n ~ I've noticed a lot of fanfic authors are going to school, especially college. I'd like to kindly raise my hand and say that I am also partaking in such a struggle pff. So here's a little comfort fic I wrote bc the email sorting was just getting so annoying.

Do you love me even when I hate being a grown-up?

“Bullshit,”

I clicked on the mouse, reading through an email.

“more bullshit,”

I clicked on the “unsubscribe” option on the top of the screen.

“Fuck— Even more bullshit!”

It was safe to say that I was exhausted.

I groaned, pushing my feet against the desk before rolling across the hardwood floor. Emails were hard. Being responsible for yourself was hard. Hell, even being far from a warm fresh meal from my own parents was hard. Every muscle in me tensed involuntarily for I was stressed beyond relief.

“Hey, honey, are you okay?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Wilbur, poking his head through the door with a curious look on his face. He was wearing a jumper a little bit too big for him with some sweatpants. Perfect loungewear for when you basically have nothing to do all day. I sighed, turning my chair toward him and outstretching my hands, requesting his grasp. Obediently, he walked toward me before bending down and wrapping his long limbs around my balled-up body.

“What’s going on…” He asked softly, rubbing the back of my neck. The touch of his slender fingers soothe a majority of my nerves.

“I’m just not ready for school again.. Especially when this is all just— so new to me. I don’t understand anything that’s going on.” I vented through quiet mumbles as I buried my head into the crook of his neck. He hummed a bit before picking me up from the chair, placing me on the bed before crawling up right next to me.

I snuggled deeper into his embrace, feeling his warmth engulf me to battle off the cold air conditioning. Gingerly, he ran his fingers through my hair, carefully knotting out the unkempt strands. He smelled of freshly brewed coffee and rain after a storm. I deeply exhaled, letting all my stress go in just one breath.

“You got this, sweetheart, I know it. It’s kind of hard now, but you just need to get the hang of it. I’ve seen you go through the most challenging struggles. You know you’re stronger than you think, right?” He tilted my head just slightly so that I was facing him now. Our knows just barely touching. Slowly, I nod. He smiled, lifting his head a bit to give me a peck on the forehead.

“You’re going to do amazing things in the future, (y/n). Just give it one step at a time.” He whispered.

[or-did-i-dont-didnt-send-it]

They knew who they were going to give that race to going into it lmao.

Lando just spontaneously has car issues that need fixed right before lights out? Yeaaaah, sure.

And then they didn't have any special hats or celebratory merchandise around for Lando's, a driver who has been part of their team in a reserve driver or active driver role since 2018, maiden win, but they just so happened to have enough OP1 hats just randomly laying around the paddock for all the team members to wear?

Not to mention the slowing Lando down throughout the ENTIRE race with these absurd claims his tyres were going off. And when he finally caught on that it was bullshit when they were begging him to just let Piastri by, suddenly he's the fastest driver on track by a long shot. Funny how that works.

He wasn't going to win that race going into it. He never had a chance. Andrea Stella made sure of that, and if Lando has any braincells and actually wants a WDC in his career, he'd be trying to find a way out of that contract.

They knew who they were going to give that race to going into it lmao.

Yep. Exactly.

I started getting this really icky feeling during the first part of the race. I could go all the way into it and I probably will later but for now I’ll just say that if anyone wants to look at Lando’s onboard, it is blatantly clear that they had Will hold Lando back for majority of that race.

There is no way Lando suddenly pulled that pace out of his ass. They never planned to give him a chance to actually fight for that win after lap 1 and it was depressing to watch. And I agree that he caught on. And I’m glad he made a point.

Part of me wishes he would have just taken the win and the other part knows he did the right thing on protecting himself after the team gave him the message loud and clear that they would make him regret it.

It was probably an absolute scene, me getting ready for church and jumping up and down yelling at Lando to “be a cunt!!! Don’t you dare give up your position!!!” Lol.

I really hoped this team would reciprocate his loyalty and dedication, pushing away the little red flags that have been popping up for me since some choices they made during races in 2023. But Andrea and McLaren really scooby doo villained themselves today and tore the masks off. It’s very disappointing.

[eunchancorner]

Revenged and Rescued (Part 8)

I will admit. Initially this was going to be much longer, but I cut it where I was initially going to put a timeskip. This one feels like a lotta filler but dw, I got something big planned ;3

-

“I'm not going to pull you up…”

“Without you, I become leader of the Toppat Clan…”

“Just wanted to look you in the eyes as I took it all back…”

“Goodbye…”

Plummeting into the freezing sea, it wasn't that face of calm superiority that Henry remembered. It was the anger, the pain driven by fear that he'd seen in the beginning. When Reginald demanded he fixed his Right Hand Man. When Reginald had blamed Henry for everything. Those last words uttered from Reginald's mouth weren't what echoed in his mind as he felt his own body shutting down on him. It was the first ones.

“FIX HIM!”

He gasped sharply as he woke up, staring up at the dark green fabric fluttering above him. He was still in the tent, still laying in that cot.

“Hey, Henry, you're finally up!” he suddenly heard from the tent entrance, sitting up to see Charles, dressed like he'd been going about his day for quite some time now.

“I'm surprised you slept through the general's call, I never can, but you! I have to admit Henry, it's weirdly impressive. But you can't sleep all day! You still haven't met everyone yet! Lucky for you, General just likes to have us run drills in the mornings and then we can hang out the rest of the day if we don't have important tasks to do. Eel and Andrew are gonna be busy a while, but Quentin and Madd said they'd help show you around! The Bukowski twins wanted to come, but Vicky's taking them over to target practice- Oh, you still need to meet Vicky! Oh, by the way, tomorrow you've got some acclimation practices with Phlex. Hopefully to make him less… violent around you.”

Henry let himself relax as Charles rambled, letting the friendly sound help push away the dream.

It's over… it's over…

“Uh, you ok over there, Henry?” the pilot suddenly cut into his thoughts, and he nodded, standing.

“Yeah, I-I'm fine. Just… getting used to waking up normally again. Give me a sec,” he assured him.

“Alright, just, be quick getting ready, Quentin is not very patient,” the pilot advised before popping back out of the tent. Henry sighed as he looked at his clothes. Let's get it going, then.

After getting ready, Henry walked out of the tent, looking out at the base, buzzing with activity. He looked up at the overcast sky as a single helicopter took off, gripping the strap of his bag tightly.

“Heyyy, Henry, you're finally ready! I grabbed you something from the mess hall for breakfast, you like apples, right?” the pilot asked as he ran up, gently tossing one into Henry's hands, not waiting for an answer. “Quentin and Madd should be over soon, they're talking to General Galeforce about a tent change, y'know, because of the whole Phlex and Mac situation. Oh! And we're gonna have visitors in a couple of days! I hope it's Major Panzer's section, I'd love for you to meet them, too! Oh!” Suddenly his gaze turned behind Henry, and he followed his gaze to see two of Charles's squadmates. “Quentin, Madd, we're over here!”

“Stickmin, you are up! I thought Charlie was bullshitting us,” Madd greeted as him and the older pilot approached. Henry nodded a bit, and Madd put a hand on his shoulder as they reached the two.

“So, ready for the grand tour, Henry? Charlie says you like the place so far, so I've got a feeling you're gonna like the rest of it!”

“That, and we have several other people here we need to introduce you to,” Quentin added as he began to lead the small group. “Who's first, boys?”

“How about Anthony? Heard he's hanging out with Smokah and Turtle. Might wanna meet the new guy,” Madd suggested, giving Quentin a knowing look as he stopped dead in his tracks, before turning back to Madd.

“I know what you're doing. No.”

“C'mon! It's a perfect opportunity! Besides, he has to meet them sometime,” the sniper argued, and the oldest sighed.

“If we're going to introduce Henry to Anthony, that's the only thing we're doing. Understood?”

“Check, now c'mon! I still remember where they are!” Madd announced as he took the lead, bringing them over a jeep where three soldiers were smoking. Or more accurately, two were smoking, one was pacing and rambling endlessly about some kind of explosive device idea.

“Henry, meet Anthony Lee, Smokah Tyeson, and-”

“Codename Turtle, pleased to meet ya!” she cut off Madd's introduction, taking Henry's hand and shaking it quickly. “I'm the demowoman, the boom behind the bounty hunters division! Heard you met Eel already, that's good, but you still need to meet Frog, right? Hey Frog, get over here!” her words came out rushed and energetic, something Henry remembered Eel had warned him about. Another soldier came over, dressed similarly to Turtle, and Henry assumed this was Frog.

“Hey there, Henry, I’ve heard a lot,” he greeted, shaking Henry’s hand in a far more calm fashion. “I’m Frog, as you might have heard Turtle screaming. You’ve got quite the reputation, but we’re glad to have you on our side. Quent, Madd, Charlie,” he nodded to the other three.

“Frog,” they chorused behind Henry, before Charles stepped forward.

“It’s nice to see you guys, and to introduce Henry. We’re giving him a little tour and meet-and-greet with everyone!” the pilot announced, and one of the other soldiers coughed in response. Smokah, if Henry had the names right.

“Well, kid, hope you like overcast and gas fumes, ‘cause that’s what you’re in for,” he remarked in a gruff, almost pained voice.

“You sure that’s not just the cloud of smoke that follows you everywhere?” the other one, Anthony, remarked, earning a pointed glare from Smokah. He turned to Henry. “Don’t take any of that too literally, half of us have money on him dying from lung cancer before anywhere out there.”

“Fuck you, these things make me stronger and you know it,” he grumbled, snuffing out a butt and lighting a new one.

“I will admit to that, these things do seem to give him some kinda power. But you smell and sound awful, and frankly we’re worried about you,” Anthony noted as he turned back to the chainsmoker, who just huffed in response. Or possibly coughed, Henry couldn’t tell.

“At least I’ve got something going for me. I’m the character in the movie you can’t help but get attached to, you’re the nameless soldier who gets shot in the face in the first scene.”

“God, why is that always what you go to? Besides, I’m more like the soldier who’s got a few interesting stories and the audience finds him relatable.”

“Yeah, these two idiots have a habit of comparing each other to movie tropes. It seems silly now, but wait until you’ve spent months around them, you’ll see how quickly it get soooooo annoyingggg,” Turtle complained, leaning on Henry. He was surprised by how he almost felt uncomfortable with the proximity. Thankfully, Charles stepped in before Henry had to say anything.

“Turtle, careful, he’s still getting used to the augmentations! You might break him!” he warned, pulling her off him gently, but her eyes visibly lit up before she grabbed Henry’s arm.

“Ohhh, I’m such an oblivious bitch, how didn’t I see this? It’s so cool! Can your arm transform? Do you have any weapons? Is it just a normal arm?” she began rambling, looking at Henry as she tapped along the sensors.

“It’s got a couple of different options. I’m hoping they haven’t taken anything away, though I’m not sure I could bear it if they added more upgrades. But if I do have some pretty cool weapons. You guys mind if I show you the minigun?”

“You have a minigun?!” Charles asked in response, his eyes wide.

“Hell yeah, let’s see it!” Madd answered excitedly.

“We don’t have time for that! Maybe tomorrow, but right now, we’re in the middle of something,” Quentin cut in, earning ‘boo’s from the younger squad members.

“As bad as I wanna see the minigun, Quent’s right. We can see it tomorrow, after that thing that Galeforce wanted to do with him,” Anthony added. “But right now, you guys are busy. He’s still gotta meet everyone else.”

“I- Y-yeah, so, c’mon, Drake and Hank are over by the choppers, and I’ve got a Blackhawk to make sure those newbies in engineering didn’t fuck up. C’mon,” the bearded pilot ordered as he led the others away, though Henry was able to catch him blushing as they departed.

As they approached the helicopter pads, they were greeted by another soldier, who stopped Quentin in his path.

“Ain’t ya gonna introduce me to the newbie, here?” he asked in a surprisingly deep voice, pointing to Henry

“Oh shit, yeah, Gruff, this is Henry. He’s the guy that Charles saved in the Jungle mission,” Quentin informed him, motioning to Henry, who waved a bit awkwardly.

“Ah, yeah, I remember now. Should’ve seen the arm, that’s on me. Welcome to base, Henry, hope you like it here,” he said, shaking Henry’s hand. Henry nodded a bit.

“Glad to say I do so far. You guys have just been so… welcoming, I’m honestly surprised.”

“Are you kidding? You took out the whole Toppat Clan, the very same Toppat Clan that’s been pissing off the general for years. He’s so much nicer to be around now, it’s amazing.”

“Right, well, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got other people to meet up with and not a lot of time to get it done. It was good seeing you, though,” Quentin told him, and Gruff nodded.

“Right, I gotta meet up with Josh anyway, I’m taking him down to Captain Grit’s target practice she’s running. You guys should pop over once you’re done, though, I think she’d like Henry!”

“That’s the plan. Seeya later, Gruff!” Madd said as Gruff left, and the four continued on.

[rotworld]

Sheep's Clothing

you live and work in eastridge. the mountains are close enough to see but not so close that you worry much about those werewolf rumors. tonight, though? you're worried.

->contains workplace harassment, feral behavior, a few mentions of vomit and vaguely sinister behavior.

.

.

.

You deserve hazard pay for the things you see and unwillingly experience during weekend shifts at Club Mountainview. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of insufferable behavior from shitfaced and entitled patrons, and a lot of vomit. Whoever decided that Eastridge’s most popular nightlife attraction needed a restaurant is a genius and a misanthrope. The food is overpriced but nobody cares after a few shots and some uncoordinated flailing on the dancefloor. Taking orders has made you an expert at lipreading and interpreting inebriated miming, a necessity to understand anything over nonstop synth melodies and pounding bass. You smile through a lot of bullshit because the people who don’t forget to tip entirely make the whole night worthwhile.

For some reason, tonight is extra bad. The girls at table four manage to spill not one, not two, but all five of their drinks, leaving ice, broken glass and a sticky, sugary alcohol mess all over the booth seats and floor. You have to call in one of the bouncers when a drunken brawl breaks out in the party room over mozzarella sticks and a chair is lobbed at your head. A guy argues with you about his mini tacos never arriving despite your insistence that he ate them ten minutes ago, and then he pukes on your shoes.

“It’s the full moon,” Donna grumbles. She was already at the bar when you got there, head resting against her hand and eyes bloodshot. A few long, blonde strands of hair escape from her ponytail and she’s forever pushing them behind her ear before they fall loose again. “Makes people act weird. All our worst shifts are during full moons.” 

“Full moon, huh?” you mutter, rubbing your temples to soothe an oncoming headache. The bar’s design straddles a cave and cabin concept, the back wall textured like stone and the counter a natural-edged slab of wood with a glassy finish. It’s the only place where your eyes and ears can rest, far enough from the dancefloor that the noise is tolerable and the lights soft and steady, firelight orange instead of flashing neon. 

“Rough one tonight, huh?” you hear. A glass of water slides across the bar and you find Irving’s sauntered over to chat while he works. He moves like a well-oiled machine, hands quick and graceful as he juggles empty glasses, mixes drinks and pours ice. “I hear there was a bit of a scuffle in the party room earlier. Glad you two got out unscathed,” he says conversationally, wearing his perpetual charismatic, glad-to-be-here smile. You have no idea how he maintains it this late into his shift.

“You’re so fucking lucky to be on that side of the bar,” Donna grumbles. 

“It’s not exactly a walk in the park back here either. I’m not sure I’ll have a barback for much longer, Tim looks about ready to quit. Someone threw a drink at him earlier.” Tim, the new hire sheepishly collecting empty glasses at the other end of the bar, is staring forlornly at Irving like a castaway watching a ship leave him behind. 

Donna insists, “Full moon.”

“That sounds more like a werewolf thing,” you say.

Irving shakes his head. “That’s a myth, actually. Moon phases don’t do anything to them. You know what, though, this is their hunting season.” 

You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh or say he was just kidding. He doesn’t. “Hunting season?” you echo, morbidly curious.

He rests a forearm across the bar counter, leaning in a little and lowering his voice. “Mhm. Late spring to early summer. They’re opportunistic, but this is the only time of year that they’re actively on the prowl. Did you know that the majority of people who go missing in the mountains around here disappear sometime in April or May? You two should be careful, actually, I hear they’ve got a thing for overworked waitstaff.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Donna says.

“I’m serious! My girlfriend told me—”

“Your werewolf girlfriend who nobody’s ever met and only visits when we’re all conveniently too busy to meet her, right?” 

“Tale as old as time,” Irving sighs. He gives you a wink before he drifts back to the other end of the bar. You linger for a little longer, nursing your water. That must’ve been a joke, right? You’ve never heard of a “hunting season,” but you don’t know enough about werewolves to be sure. You’ve never met one. Then again, people say it’s hard to tell. Your gaze wanders the club scanning the dancefloor crowd, the groups chatting further down the bar or squeezed around booths, the loners leaning against the wall. Would you even know one if you saw one?

Donna heads back to the trenches first when she spots a couple wander in and you’re not far behind. Right on time, too, because a huge group just walked in and meandered over after looking around all starstruck and delirious like they’ve never been in a club before. You do a quick headcount as they make their way to the restaurant seating area. Eight, nine, ten guys—you hope it’s not another bachelor party. 

“Welcome to the Mountainview Club Kitchen—” Your throat tightens before you finish the sentence. They’re all looking at you. Which shouldn’t be weird, you were trying to get their attention. But the second you spoke up, all of them went from distracted and overly interested in the decor to laser-focused on you and only you. That still doesn’t seem sufficient to explain the cold grasp of heart-stopping terror keeping you frozen in place. You don’t feel like you’re talking to customers at work, you feel like you’re standing in the woods late at night and something big, powerful and hungry just stepped into your path.

Cornered. That’s what you’re feeling. Like a trapped animal. Like a rabbit chased by…

No way, you think. You quickly plaster on a smile. “Uh. Welcome! You’ll have to give me a second to check how many tables we’ve got open right now, I can push a few together for you if there’s enough.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I’m the only one eating.” One of them waves off the others with a chuckle. “Go on, get out there and mingle. I’ll hold down the fort, yeah? You guys are guests tonight so it’s my treat if you want anything.” He looks normal. They all do. Not really dressed for clubbing but nothing that weird, lots of tank tops, denim and well-worn sneakers. The group disperses without a word to you or each other, leaving you alone with the friendliest one. 

You search him for anything amiss, anything that screams “werewolf” and come up empty. He’s just a guy. Black jacket, band t-shirt, jeans with ragged knees. Not unusually tall or tough-looking, honestly a little on the scrawny side, dark hair that curtains his face and feathers around his shoulders. Were you just imagining that feeling earlier? He sticks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head slightly, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “Something on my face?” he drawls. Shit, you’re staring. You try to play it off as spacing out and lead him to a table, wrestling with paranoia. You’re relieved when he starts scrutinizing the menu instead. 

“This is new, isn’t it?” he asks absently. “There wasn’t a restaurant last time I came here. I guess it’s been a while.”

“It opened a few months back,” you tell him. “Are you a regular?” 

“Eh, not really. I’m here like once a year.” 

Always around the same time? you wonder. Right around April or May? You scold yourself. Irving loves fucking with people, that’s all that was. And even if he wasn’t, a nightclub doesn’t really seem like prime werewolf hunting territory. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Just water, thanks. What’s good here?” He rests his chin against his palm while you try to think of a recommendation, smiling up at you. “I’m Corbin, by the way.” His eyes flick to your name tag and he reads it in a slow, teasing drawl. “So. You local? Live in Eastridge?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, utterly blindsided. “Uh. All of the appetizers are pretty good, and the tomato soup comes with this really good bread—” 

“Corbin.” You nearly jump out of your skin when one of the other guys seems to appear out of thin air, suddenly standing beside you. Sure, it’s hard to hear much of anything with the music, but he’s right there and he’s not exactly small. You aren’t sure how he snuck up on you. “Purple or green?”

Corbin tilts his head, glancing at something past the guy. You follow his gaze and see some of the people he came in with chatting up some college kids on the dancefloor. One’s in a sequined purple dress and the other’s wearing a green t-shirt. Corbin’s face scrunches up in distaste. “Neither,” he says. The other guy nods slowly like he’s just heard something truly profound and walks off. You have no idea what to make of the exchange and Corbin doesn’t let you dwell on it. “Is it always this busy?” he asks.

You shrug. “On the weekends, mostly.”

He hums, lips pursed and brows furrowed like you’ve just told him something heartbreaking. “Is it hard? A job like this? Seems pretty thankless.”

“A job’s a job,” you say with a tight smile. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, y’know. There are places that would appreciate you so much more than this.” The discomfort must show on your face because his expression softens a little, less of a smirk and more of a sad smile. His voice gets softer and softer and you have to lean in to hear him clearly. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m just being nosy. But the thing is, I’ve got a good intuition. I can tell when people are…dissatisfied. Unhappy with their lives. You laugh it off, but it’s getting to you; how effortless it is for these people to hurt you. How brittle the bonds between humans are.” He pauses for just a moment and then he’s full of boisterous energy again, grinning. “Tomato soup, huh? Could I get that, and maybe the mozzarella sticks? Oh, and the wings too! They’d probably like that.”

“Sure,” you say weakly. You’re not entirely aware of your movements, running on autopilot to take the menu from him with numb fingers and put in his order. Why do you feel so shaken up? This is obviously a shitty place to work, anyone could see that. But it was more than that. The way he said it, the way he looked at you—like he knew you. Really knew you, the way strangers aren’t supposed to.

You try to shrug it off, make your rounds to other tables, but he’s on your mind all night. You bring him water and he takes it before you set it down. The pads of his fingers caress the back of your hand and slip away slowly, hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you,” he says, his smile affecting you in embarrassing ways. You run to the bathroom and splash cold water on your face, trying to shock yourself out of whatever weird, emotional haze you’re in. 

Corbin is thankfully distracted when you come back with his appetizers. Someone else from his group swings by the table with his arm around a younger guy. “Oh, you’re on summer break? What’s your major?” Corbin asks. You don’t linger but you catch bits of conversation, enough to hear that the guy Corbin came with barely says a word. Is he the wingman for all of his socially awkward friends? You look around and see the others scattered around, a couple perched at the bar with a woman giggling between them, a few lurking around the dancefloor. One makes eye contact with you halfway across the club and your heart skips a beat. 

You’re getting that feeling again—the prickling on the back of your neck. The primal sense that there’s danger lurking somewhere nearby, hungry eyes raking across your skin. 

Corbin’s friends and their hookups drift by the table frequently. Every time you glance over, someone new is hovering next to him or sliding into an open chair with their plus one chatting happily. You’re not really surprised. There’s something magnetic about him, an effortless charm in his open, welcoming body language, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Strangely, none of them stay long. People cycle in and out until you’re sure his whole friend group has stopped by at least twice, sometimes snagging something from an appetizer plate, but they don’t stick around.

Eventually, someone else entirely—a club regular, not someone Corbin came with—snags the chair across from him. They’re flirting and he’s apparently not interested, hardly looking at them, humming or muttering disinterested, one-word answers to their questions. You come back with his tomato soup just in time to see the interloper storm off, tears in their eyes. Corbin watches them go, leaning against the table with his lips curled in a snarl. “Packless,” he mutters, the word rolling off his tongue in disgust. He stiffens up when he notices you standing there, plastering on a smile. “Oh, that looks so good! Thank you!”

“Enjoy,” you manage to say, struggling to make sense of what you just saw. Corbin isn’t looking at the food, even when you set it down in front of him. 

“Why don’t you sit with me? I wanna talk more,” he says, nodding to the chair beside him. 

You laugh nervously. “I really can’t.” 

“Aw. Not even for a little bit?” You’re a little surprised but nonetheless grateful he doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls a hair tie out of his pocket to keep the long strands falling around his shoulders from falling into his food. “Sorry, sorry. I’m doing it again. It’s my intuition, y’know? I feel like we’re both missing out if we don’t get to know each other! But no worries, I know you’re on the clock.” He tosses the long strands of his ponytail behind his back and smiles at you.

Your heart drops into your stomach. You didn’t notice it before with his hair hanging around his neck, but he’s absolutely covered in painful-looking marks. Some are old, puckered scars and some are fresher, scabs and scrapes and flushed half-moons. They’re littered across both sides of his neck and even more disappear beneath the neckline of his shirt. There’s no mistaking them for anything else—those are bites. Big, human-sized bites, left by teeth too sharp to be a human’s. Your gaze darts back to his face and you know he caught you staring. 

He looks euphoric, eyes half-lidded and smile dreamy, like you’re fulfilling some exhibitionistic fantasy. 

“C…can I get you anything else?” you force yourself to ask.

He’s not discreet when he looks you up and down, gaze lingering on your hips, trailing slowly up your chest and eventually returning to your eyes. He licks his lips. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “I’m good for tonight.” 

You know he watches you for the rest of your shift. No matter where you go, you feel him staring. You want nothing more than to avoid him until he leaves but you don’t want him to complain about being neglected, eventually circling back to refill his water and take his empty plates. You don’t make eye contact and he doesn’t strike up a conversation. He pays his bill without anything weird happening until he hands you an insane tip, a few big bills rivaling your paycheck.

“We’re kindred spirits, y’know,” he says, looking satisfied by your wordless shock. “But you’re stuck in this awful world where nobody’s taking care of you right. So I’ll just have to do it myself until…” He never finishes the sentence, smile widening when you look at him questioningly. “Take a picture with me!” he says. You don’t argue. You’re so tired, so exhausted from all the mixed signals, and you’ve decided he’s ultimately harmless. Weird as hell and uncomfortably perceptive but harmless, and if he tips like this, you’ll give him all the pictures he wants.

Corbin pulls you down into the chair beside him with an arm around your shoulder and holds out his phone for a selfie. You fully intend to look at the camera but your eyes are pulled slightly off center by the sight of his bites displayed on the screen. It comes out awkward. Your smile is half-hearted and Corbin’s not quite looking at the camera either, his gaze focused on you with an uncomfortably fond smile stretched across his face.

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Typing this up on my breaks at work so don't come at me for any errors. Not Harringrove unless you mean in like a Capital P Platonic sense reminiscent of his bond with Robin but also Billy antis need not interact?

Season 2 booiiii!!

(part 1)

Steve coasts through Senior year but the small changes in his appearance and occasionally yelling out his two-bits when Munson goes on one of his lunch table rants only settle him so much and Nancy hasn't said but he knows she's not a big fan and he tries to be a steadying presence. Tries to be someone she can forget it all with and let it go because they're kids who signed NDAs and maybe if he can help her the nightmares will stop and the ringing in his ears won't keep coming and going and he will stop spacing out in class. She gets on him about his grades and college. He figures he'll get a job with his dad, learn the company and have enough of an income that he can support Nancy as she pursues her passions and college and fights to change the world and when he inherits the company he'll be in a position to make real lasting change in small towns like Hawkins.

But then the Hargroves come to town and Billy makes a play for the crown that still sits so heavy on his head. Pushes and antagonizes and tries to get a rise from him. There's something about the way he holds himself, the way he preens and struts and takes up so much space while keeping himself so contained that pricks at the back of Steve's head. He's seeing the dots but they're just not connecting. So he lets Hargrove make the big show of biting at his heels but doesn't rise to any of the challenges. And it seems that with someone like Billy to hide behind Tommy has forgotten what happened when he made a play for the crown himself. Though Steve smiles to himself when he realizes that it's obvious Billy wasn't told that little piece of information when he makes comments about Steve being soft and not willing to fight for his reputation. Billy pushes and taunts and Steve is so tired of him and the metalheads heckling him for being punk one minute then calling him a poser the next and trying to keep up appearances for Nancy and the people in town who would report him to his parents before he's ready if he really dressed and behaved the way he wanted to and the government goons he knows have been keeping an eye on Hawkins since that night.

Steve stumbles but he doesn't fall.

Then Tina's Halloween party happens and the girl he loves and is building his future around is calling him and everything they've said and done and promised bullshit. Tommy and Co are still hyping up Hargrove beating Steve's official record as he makes his way out of the house instead of showing off his refined skills from that summer in [insert major big city] that started him on this path to becoming the person he wants to be. He saw Byers around, he knows he'll get her home safe.

Nancy confronts him about not picking her up for school. He won't break up with her behind the school gymnasium of all places but he tells her about everything being bullshit by her own statement, gives her a chance to say she loves him and hopefully mean it, and when she doesn't take it he walks away. He plans to talk to her that weekend. Plans to punk up a little even if she doesn't like it cause it makes him feel safer and more centered, take her flowers and apologize for the way he handled it but call them off. Instead he gets Dustin -one of the kids he's given a ride or two to the arcade with Mike when he and Nancy were headed to the movies or the diner- and monsters and another kid he gives rides to and some random spitfire of a girl. He's angry and sad and scared and he makes sure his heavy leather jacket is zipped up before heading out of the bus to draw out the dog shaped monsters. He needs to keep them safe and if he can hit something bloody in the process that's a win-win.

They end up back at the Byers' place. There's a plan and his part is keeping the kids safe as his now officially ex-girlfriend follows and comforts the boy she is willing to bear her claws for. The plan does not include Billy Hargrove showing up for the random spitfire girl who is apparently his little sister. The plan does not include Billy holding one of his kids (yes it's only been a couple hours but they're HIS to protect godsdammit) up by the front of his shirt and threaten him. The plan does not include a fight that starts with Billy laughing something about finally meeting King Steve and ending with the refrigerator being knocked open and the dead demodog falling out between two scared bloody teenagers who know too much about monsters. The plan does not include Billy Hargrove almost sounding scared as he snaps something about Max going with him because he was not letting her just sneak out to fight monsters with dumbasses trying to get themselves killed and someone named Neil already knowing she was gone and she was lucky Billy hadn't mentioned the Sinclair boy when saying she was probably out with her new friends. It definitely doesn't include Max looking like she finally figured out a particularly hard puzzle and telling Billy if he helped them and helped Steve keep them safe in the tunnels then the chief of police would not only know he was trustworthy and useful but maybe even be indebted for helping make sure the chief's daughter survived her part of the plan.

It makes the dots line up and connect when that makes Billy pause and tentatively ask vague half-questions that he only seemed to trust Max to be able to answer.

Steve decides he hates Neil Hargrove after they've made it through the tunnels easy as anything with Billy taking point so Steve can take up the rear and keep the kids between them. After Billy pulls Dustin away from the weird flower thing that almost got the kid in the face and pulls Mike up and away once Steve got the vine to let go of his leg. After Hopper comes back to see them covered in dirt and soot but grinning victoriously and he had them walk him through what happened so they're all on the same page when the suits decide to show up. After Max pulls Hopper and Billy aside and Steve is able to catch snippets about an asshole and bruises on his face but his knuckles unharmed so she knows he wasn't getting into fights. Steve decides he hates Neil Hargrove and maybe he and Billy have more in common than he thought.

It's not easy after that. The nightmares are still bad but now he and Billy have an understanding and a codeword and a system for whose turn it is to drive when neither of them can sleep. The ringing is a little worse and a little more consistent and his left(? I can't remember if it's his left or right eye that keeps getting messed up) eye gets a little fuzzy when he's tired or stressed. His grades suffer but with Billy's help he's at least able to make it into the local community college once he graduates even if the fancy university his parents wanted him to attend rejected him. El seems intrigued by Steve's look, calls him 'bitching' like she calls Nancy 'pretty' and says he reminds her of her sister and Hopper doesn't seem as big a fan of that but acknowledges that Steve is good babysitter material which will be needed if El is going to be joining society again sooner than he wanted. Max and Billy work with Hopper and Joyce in wearing down Susan to leave Neil or at least make it known that the chief is well aware of what type of man he is and will not stand for it in his town.

That comes to a head when Max and Lucas are unofficially each other's date to the Snowball dance and Neil finds out that Billy knew and even encouraged it (because his sister deserves nice things dammit and this boy was close enough for now... But he's watching and will do his big brother duty if necessary), taking Max there and being seen talking sternly to the Sinclair boy before shaking his hand. Hopper ends up having to lead Neil Hargrove away in handcuffs and Max stays with him and El while Susan files for divorce and custody of Billy through a swollen eye and Steve makes a point of getting Billy his schoolwork and chauffeuring the kids to keep him company during his brief stay in the hospital. Life isn't all good, but it's getting better.

Then Steve's parents come home.

It was thankfully a day The Party and Co weren't over and a recovered Billy was busy applying for summer jobs and he'd deep cleaned the common rooms because that one dusty shelf just rubbed him the wrong way now that the kids weren't around to distract him and the sides of his hair had grown out some so it looked more like the type of haircut he used to have freshman year if a little longer up top. It was unfortunately the day after his father had actually listened to the latest messages and read the end of the year report cards concerning his son's graduation. It was unfortunately a day when Steve was in a shirt that had the sleeves and parts of the sides cut off and showcased his ribs showing the palm sized petal faced Demogorgon head he got the spring break after the first round of interdimensional horror. It was unfortunately a day when [insert pretentious name] Harrington decided that since Steve was 18, couldn't make it into any 'acceptable school' and was obviously not planning on being a proper Harrington man then he was cut off, he knew about the trips to Indianapolis (not all of them but enough) he knew about the music and the parties (even if Steve hadn't thrown one in years), knew Steve was involved in something that had the government coming around and making them look bad in front of the neighbors. He knew about the subtle pins and patches on the jacket hanging by the front door and he wouldn't have that in his house.

So Steve is out by the end of the week. Everything he wants from his room and the house fits into the trunk of the car his dad had signed over as a birthday/graduation gift before the infodump that led them here. He has some money saved from the allowance his parents used to send and a job lined up at the mall opening at the edge of town and the trust fund that his grandparents set up that his father can't touch but neither can Steve before he's 21. He winds up at the door of Hopper's cabin, blurts out that he likes men as much as women, isn't quite an anarchist but it's close some days and his parents found out and it didn't end well before the man can ask what was going on as he opens the door. Hopper lets Steve sleep on their couch while he and Joyce sort out fixing up the old trailer. Billy and El and Nancy and Jonathan help but Steve doesn't want the rest of the kids to know yet. Not with Max still settling after the legal battle with Neil, Lucas at her side trying to help her as best he can, Will recovering from being possessed, Dustin getting ready to go to summer camp and Mike getting over whatever he's being petty about this time (don't want to give the kid more fuel for that fire).

So Steve is mostly moved in to the old trailer by the time he starts at Scoops Ahoy and meets his coworker Robin Buckley. His kids are safe and getting to be kids, his people are all taken care of (Nancy and Jonathan with summer internships and Billy taking Steve's old lifeguard position), the gate is closed, he is set to start some Gen Ed courses at the local community college the next semester and he's heard tell of a decent band that's started playing at The Hideout some weeknights so that will be fun to have something like that closer than Indianapolis.

Life isn't perfect, but it's good. It's getting better.

(part3.1)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

"I think that we should all give an applause right now to Hamas for a job well done. When they (Israelis) woke up in the morning and they found the field hands in the house, with a knife, ready to cut their fucking throats! I was late to the news, but when I heard it, I smiled. I don't want to hear that bullshit 250, 250 innocent Israelis today. Fuck them! Again, I swear. I salute Hamas. A job well done."

"They want to paint it here in America that what happened yesterday was terrorism. What happened yesterday was freedom fighters fighting for freedom. And I want to make one point: every person that died yesterday was not innocent. It's our job, it's our job here in the West to wake people up. It's our job to show people who are the real terrorists. It's our job to show what's right..."

@mcfuzzyfuzzface said:

You think fundamentalist islamic terrorists are leftist, huh?

So, is it still terrorism? You yourself referred to them as "terrorists."

You have an American hate-preacher spouting Intersectional and Critical Race Theory rhetoric (e.g. master's tools, slave allusions, oppressor/oppressed) celebrating both the act and the organization that did it, and looking forward to more.

You have a hijabi shouting, to applause, that no Israeli is innocent. They're all fair game. That terrorism is "what's right." An overt call to support ethnic cleansing.

Is it still terrorism when American progressives are cheering it on?

A persistent gaslighting tactic is the idea that "nO oNe iS sAyInG tHis!!" No, they're not saying it. They're shouting it through bullhorns.

Do not take people for fools and try to lie to them.

Reminder: Hamas is not some fringe group, they're a religious group that is the literal elected government of the Gaza Strip.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamas

Hamas officially the Islamic Resistance Movement, is a Sunni Islamist political and military organization currently governing the Gaza Strip of the Palestinian territories. While it is headquartered in Gaza City, it also has a presence in the West Bank (the larger of the two Palestinian territories), in which Fatah exercises control. It is widely considered to be the "dominant political force" within the Palestinian territories.

In 1987, shortly after the outbreak of the First Intifada against Israel, Hamas was founded by Palestinian imam and activist Ahmed Yassin. It emerged out of his Mujama al-Islamiya, which had been established in Gaza in 1973 as a religious charity involved with the Egypt-based Muslim Brotherhood. Hamas became increasingly involved in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict by the late 1990s; it opposed the Israel–PLO Letters of Mutual Recognition as well as the Oslo Accords, which saw Hamas' secular rival Fatah renounce "the use of terrorism and other acts of violence" and recognize Israel in pursuit of a two-state solution. Hamas continued to advocate Palestinian armed resistance. Hamas won the 2006 Palestinian legislative election, gaining a majority in the Palestinian Legislative Council, and subsequently took control of Gaza Strip from Fatah in 2007.

Since 2007, Hamas has fought several wars with Israel. It historically sought an Islamic Palestinian state over the combined territory of Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip, rejecting the two-state solution. Hamas began to accept negotiations with Israel and the 1967 borders in the agreements it signed with Fatah in 2005, 2006 and 2007. Many scholars reported that Hamas' 2017 charter accepted a Palestinian state within the 1967 borders. Under the ideological principles of Islamism, it promotes Palestinian nationalism in an Islamic context; it has pursued a policy of jihad (armed struggle) against Israel. The Hamas government has pushed through changes that gave greater influence to Islamic law in the Gaza Strip. It has a social service wing, Dawah, and a military wing, the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades.

If Hamas is a terrorist organization...

You think fundamentalist islamic terrorists

... then Palestinians chose terrorists as their legitimately elected government representation. Right?

And this is what I said when previously asked: this is Islamic religious holy war, as commanded by Allah. There's no sharing, there's no backing down, there's no co-existing. Islam doesn't allow it, even if Palestinian and Israeli individuals do support it.

Islamists have weaponized western intersectional nonsense - "white adjacent," oppressor/oppressed, shallow takes on "colonialism" - to create a narrative that supports ethnic cleansing, under the benign-sounding academic term, "decolonization." And convinced people who subscribe to this deranged theology to endorse and defend terrorism.

And still people wonder how the Third Reich rose. You're looking at it. Remember, Hitler's manifesto translates as "My Struggle."

Believe them when they tell you what they're up to.

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Her Song part 9

It's five o'clock on a Saturday morning. I don't want to be awake right now. Whose dumb idea was it to open a coffee shop, anyway?

I roll out of bed and check my phone, seeing a message from Willow. She wants to go out tonight. I have nothing to lose, so I agree. I can't help but think of Florence as I type out a response. She never leaves my mind, but she has a boyfriend so why should I feel guilty?

This past week has been so confusing. Last Friday she was being all touchy with Zach, but then she acted all jealous when I was talking to Willow. When we're alone, it's like nothing else even matters. It's just me and her, and an undeniable tension that forms whenever our eyes meet. She flirts. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but Ash confirmed it. 'Dude, she definitely wants to fuck' as Ash put it. I wouldn't quite say that, but to each their own.

Scarlett keeps pushing us together, too. She's come to the shop with Florence every day this week, and she never fails to slip not-so-subtle innuendos into the conversation. I just wish someone could be my balance of reasoning—someone who gives me their honest opinion and helps navigate all this bullshit. Ash is a great friend, but not the best at giving advice.

Groaning into my pillow, I begrudgingly roll out of bed and trudge into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water cascades down my face, enveloping my body in a bath of calm. My thoughts aren't silenced, but they're quieter now.

I slip on some baggy ripped jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, layering it with an oversized flannel. One major perk of being my own boss is that there's no dress code. I tie on my Doc Martens and brush my teeth as I walk to Syd's room, opening the door and telling her to wake up. After making some breakfast, we're ready to leave by 6:30, and we arrive at the shop around 6:45.

"Fifteen minutes to spare," I mumble as I unlock the doors and usher Syd inside. Ash shows up within a few minutes and we crank up the music, starting the day with laughs and excessive espresso shots. Syd grabs a book off the shelf and sits on the floor, reading in the middle of the aisle, but I don't have the energy to tell her to move.

We easily deal with the morning rush of early birds getting their coffee. Florence shows up around eight, but she's not alone. Walking in behind her are Scarlett and...Elizabeth Olsen?

"Good morning, Y/N," Scarlett calls.

"Good morning, darling," Florence says absentmindedly, waving to Syd. I nearly melt at the nickname 'darling' but manage to hold it together.

"Morning, guys. I see you brought a new guest."

"Yes, hi! I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzie," she introduces herself with a kind smile, shaking my hand.

"Hi, Lizzie. I'm Y/N," I laugh lightly. "Would you like to order?"

"I'll have a chai tea latte with oat milk?"

"Coming right up! And I'm assuming the usual for you both?" I ask Scarlett and Florence, both of whom nod in response.

"And it's for here," Florence adds. I smile to thank her for already knowing what I was going to ask.

"Tu feras le thé? Je ferai le café et le café au lait," I tell Ash, divvying up the orders. She gets to work on Florence's tea and I make Scarlett's and Lizzie's. We quickly have the drinks made and served.

My phone vibrates and I check my phone, seeing a message from my dad.

Dad: I booked a flight up next Monday and a flight back on the following Saturday. Does that work for you?

Well it's a little late to ask now, considering you already booked the flight, I think to myself.

Me: Yeah, that works. See you then.

I slide my phone back into my pocket and sigh, refraining from rolling my eyes. Syd will be excited to see him. I'm doing this for Syd. It's just for a few days.

"Hey, everything okay?" Florence murmurs, resting her hand on my arm.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just my dad," I assure her.

"So, Y/N, what made you want to open your own coffee shop?" Lizzie asks genuinely.

"Couldn't afford college," I joke, although that's pretty much the truth. She laughs and Florence gives me a boyish grin, locking her gaze onto mine. "What made you want to act?" I ask Lizzie in return.

"Ooh, good one. Um, I guess it's always something I knew I wanted to do. There were times when my sisters' fame made me want to back out, but I love acting. It's a way to escape everything, I guess."

"Damn," I pause. "That's a much better answer than mine."

"You know, I think I like her," Lizzie tells Scarlett and Florence.

"Join the club," Ash mumbles with a sarcastic smile.

"Let me see your phone," Lizzie commands. I do as she says, raising an eyebrow as she types away. "There, now you have my number. And I put yours in my phone, too."

"Hey, that's not fair," Florence whines. "She was my friend first."

"I can give it to you," Lizzie tells her.

"No, no. I wanna make her work for it," I demand, staring into Florence's eyes as I speak. She swallows and breaks eye contact, chuckling nervously. I smirk lightly to myself, celebrating a victory in our nonexistent competition.

"Oh, I see," Lizzie says with a half-smile.

"Hey, we should all go out tonight," Scarlett suggests. "There's a new club, super low-key. Y/N, you'll love it."

"As amazing as that sounds, I can't. I, uh, I have a date tonight." Florence's smile falls and she looks down at the floor. I nervously play with a napkin and  try to swallow my guilt. She has a boyfriend.

"Damn, another time then. Have fun on your date though," Scarlett says, wiggling her eyebrows. I playfully roll my eyes, wondering why I'm not the least bit excited.

"Yeah, have fun on your date," Florence says quietly, the smile still absent from her face. "We should get going." She abruptly gets up and walks away, waiting at the door.

"Oh, uh, I guess we're leaving. Have a good day," Lizzie says. Scarlett waves and sends me an apologetic smile as they walk out of the shop.

"Wait, I didn't give you a song...recommendation," I call after them, trailing off because they were already gone.

Ash whistles lowly, draping her arm around my shoulder. "That is quite the situation you've found yourself in, my friend."

"What do you mean?"

"She's got a boyfriend but you're totally infatuated with her, and she gets jealous when you have a date."

"Well what do you suggest I do?" I inquire helplessly.

"Honestly, I don't know. Show her what she's missing. Use that jealously to your advantage," she advises, poking my ribcage.

"That's a horrible idea, Ashlynn. Like, astonishingly horrendous. And immature. And toxic."

"I'm just saying, going to a club with them would be the perfect opportunity."

"Ash, no."

Well...maybe. No, definitely not. Unless...no, I can't do that. Can I?

[edgepunk]

seeing the updates, it's really fucking disheartening how much the execs+investors were pushing for the 2020 deadline for cp2077. disregarding the bugs, the game obviously wasn't ready to be released. yes CDPR is a much bigger studio right now, especially after the success of TW3, they could afford to hire more people, but I don't think they were as big as a US/Canadian AAA studio while I also agree they weren't a team of 10 gopniks who got lucky. they were somewhere in the middle, but some higher-up got to too ambitious and greedy, and thought that this team could pull of a game like this in a shorter time. and, of course, COVID happened.

I see the vision the devs were going for, and the Jason Schreier interview proves that a lot of them had different plans, but ironically, there was a lot of corporate meddling. it's nice to see them bring a fraction of what they were originally planning, but it doesn't excuse the fact how they were treated and how much pressure they were under. it's obvious the majority of the money was pumped into the marketing and not the development. now that the Polish employees have unionized, and are working under better conditions, their future projects will be handled better without too much corporate bullshit.