#breaking news old man yells at cloud

[wchswift]

hii!! i'm a big fan of your writingss!! they're all so amazinggg and the way you portray the emotions in the character is something i wish i could try :3

i saw your request is opened and i have this little idea: oldman logan tries to comfort his s/o (they're having a bad day at work and accidentally snaps at logan) IM SORRY IF THE IDEA IS LAME 😭

and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Pairing: old man logan x reader Summary: You had a hard day at work and when Logan tries to take care of you, you just snap at him. Content: established relationship, angst, yelling, comfort, fluff, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 1.2k notes: heyy, zayn!! tysm for your request and for your words, you are so sweet, I'm glad you like what I write!! The idea is not lame at all, I loved the idea and I hope it did justice to what you imagined <3 Happy new year 😊

The low rumble of the limo engine died as Logan cut the ignition. The evening had settled into an uneasy silence, thick and heavy, the kind that crept in after a long, thankless day. A fine sheen of dust clung to the once-sleek black of the car, mirroring the grit beneath Logan’s nails and the wear etched into his features. He sighed, staying inside the car for a moment, enjoying that he was finally home. That he was finally back with you.

The house door creaked open under his heavy hand. He didn’t call out. Years of instinct had taught him the value of silence, though tonight, it wasn’t just habit. He could feel it—like a pulse in the air—the black cloud hovering.

Inside, the light over the small kitchen buzzed faintly, illuminating a lone glass on the counter. You sat slumped on the couch, head in your hands, the uniform from the bar rumpled and stained with traces of a shift too long and customers too careless.

Logan lingered in the doorway, taking you in. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in thoughts, in an internal battle. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and cleaning solution, the scent of dish soap clinging to your skin. You were clearly tired—bone-tired in the way that made you hollow, made you sharp without meaning to be.

He stepped inside, boots scuffing against the floor, and shrugged off his jacket. ���Hey,” he murmured. “You eaten yet?”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, head still resting in your hands. You just shook your head, jaw tightening.

“Not hungry,” you muttered, tone clipped.

Logan frowned, setting his jacket down. “You should eat somethin’. Gotta keep your strength up after a shift like that.”

You exhaled sharply, pressing your palms against your temples. “Logan, please.”

He stilled, brows knitting. "What? Rough night?” Logan’s voice was gravel, softened by an edge of concern.

Your voice rose, the frustration spilling out before you could stop it. “Yes! And I don't need you lecturing me.” You broke off, dragging your hands down your face. “I just need you to stop for a minute.” Your words were a knife: sharp, unintended, but cutting all the same. “Can’t you just let me have a minute?”

The words hung in the air. Logan stood there, unmoving, the weight of the day and your tone sinking into his chest like stones in a deep well. He wasn’t a man of many words, nor one prone to anger over things like this. But it hurt—because it was you.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “Sure.”

The anger was quicksand now, sucking her down even as she clawed at the surface. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t mean to, but the day’s weight pressed against your chest, leaving no room for patience or kindness.

He set his keys down with a muted clink and walked to the kitchen. The scuff of his boots against the floor was the only sound as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Logan wasn’t good at this. Words failed him more often than not.

The guilt came rushing in, fast and unrelenting, as you watched him lean against the counter, his shoulders hunched under the weight of more than just your words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the stillness.

He cut you off with a small shake of his head, stepping closer. “Don’t. We’ve all got days, darlin’. You don’t gotta explain.”

But you did, because that’s who you were. You reached for his hand, calloused and scarred, your grip tight.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Logan crouched in front of you, his presence solid and grounding, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was rough but careful, like he was afraid of breaking something delicate.

“I get it,” he said simply. “The world’s got a way of piling on. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

Your hand brushed his arm, tentative but seeking connection. “Yeah, but you don't deserve it,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just—work was hell tonight. And I...I took it out on you.”

Logan shook his head, getting up and sitting beside you on the couch, pulling you into a loose embrace. His arms were rough but steady, grounding. “You’re allowed to be mad, darlin’. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You pressed your face into his chest, the scent of sweat and earth and faint tobacco grounding you. “I just hate feeling like this.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “I know the feelin’. But you don’t gotta carry it all by yourself. That’s what I’m here for, even if I ain’t great at it.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, your eyes searching his. “You’re better at it than you think.”

Logan sighed, kissing your head. “That’s what we do, yeah? You’re there when I’m all messed up, and I’m here when it’s you. That’s how it works.”

Your throat tightened, the simplicity of his words striking deeper than any grand gesture ever could. “I don’t deserve you.”

"Cut that out,” Logan muttered, his tone gravelly yet laced with an unexpected tenderness. His brow furrowed, the usual edge to his voice softening into something more vulnerable. “You deserve more than I can give. But this?” He gestured between you two. “This, I can do.”

"You give me everything I need," you practically whispered, the words coming out softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “C’mon. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat. Even if you don’t want it now, you’ll feel better with somethin’ in your stomach.”

You started to protest, but he raised an eyebrow, a look that was equal parts stern and amused. “Don’t argue. You’ll lose.”

You chuckled, letting him guide you toward the kitchen. “Fine. But only if you eat too.”

“Deal.” Logan opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. “Scrambled okay? Don’t expect a five-star meal.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched him move. His movements were deliberate, a mix of rough efficiency and surprising care.

As the eggs sizzled and the smell of toast filled the air, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. Logan’s presence, steady and unyielding, had a way of doing that.

When they finally sat down at the small table, the plates of simple food between them, Logan reached across to brush your hand with his fingers. It was a small gesture, fleeting but grounding.

“Tomorrow’ll be better,” he said, his voice low and sure.

You smiled, squeezing his hand before picking up your fork. “As long as you’re here... I'm sure it will be. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

The quiet between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was comforting. Enough to carry them through the night.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Where can a man get a beer around here?” Bucky’s voice distracts you from watching the starchy boil of potatoes.  

You step back look at him as he fills the doorway. The house was built in another time. People were smaller. Or maybe he’s just big. 

“Oh, the beer stores about fifteen minutes away.” 

“Great,” he says. “Phone can’t find it. Map’s blank.” 

“Ah, yeah, up here, that happens,” you say. “Fifteen minutes driving. It’ll be at least an hour on foot.” 

“Right,” the disappointment is crisp in his voice. 

“I got a case of Molson in the fridge. Neighbour’s wife was sick and I helped out. Gesture of kindness... for anyone that drinks. You’re welcome to it.” You take a fork and poke at the potatoes. “It’ll end up in the sink anyway.” 

He inhales audibly, “you don’t mind?” 

“As long as you don’t. I don’t know if it’s any good. I’m not a beer person. Unfortunately, everyone else around here is,” you turn off the burner and lift the large pot. 

You carry it to the sink and dump the potatoes into the strainer. A cloud of steam puffs up and sets a sheen over your face. You grunt and put the hot pot aside. You lift the colander and shake out the excess water. 

You look over your shoulder and set it back down. He’s still in the doorway, watching. It must be strange. To be fair, you feel the same. You’re not used to company and he’s a far way from home. 

You go to the fridge and break off a tall can from the six-pack. You bring it to him and his lips clamp sheepishly, “thanks. Coulda waited til dinner... you need help?” 

“I got it,” you assure as you hold out the can.  

He takes it an examines the label. “More of a Heineken man.” 

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know the difference,” you shrug. 

You return to the sink and dump the potatoes back into the pot. He lingers at the door as he cracks the can. You cross to the fridge again as tension pinches the nape of your neck. You take out the butter and milk. The door sucks shut and you sniff as you back up. 

“I... never been to New York,” you say to fill the void. “I hear it smells.” 

“Stinks,” he agrees. “Born in Indiana but I ended up in New York. Home to me. Or... was.” 

“Right,” you nod as you add some milk and butter to the potatoes and grab the masher. “I grew up south of here. Small town but closer to the city. Compared to this it was a metropolis.” 

“It’s quiet up here.” 

“Sure it,” you agree. “It’s nice. Most of the time.” 

You put a lid on the pot to keep it warm and go to the stove. You turn off the steamer as the lid begins to tremble. The timer on the stove counts down. 

“I can take you to the beer store tomorrow. Sorry but I hate driving after dark. The moose don’t exactly abide by the rules of the road.” You explain. 

“It’s fine,” he takes a loud slurp. “It’s beer. It’s not...” he sucks his teeth loudly. “You know, I can’t even get drunk. The taste is just familiar.” 

“Fair enough,” you hit the cancel button before the time can yell at you. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You open the cupboard and take down two plates. You lay them out side by side and work at doling out the portions. His shadow hovers on the other side of the stove. 

“Thanks, you know,” he dares to inch closer. “You already put a roof over me, now you’re feeding me.” 

“No biggie. Just the way up here.” 

He sniffs and gets closer, peeking at the pan as you carve out a hunk of meatloaf, “hadn’t had good home cooking since... well, I been living off the microwave crap or take out.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn him. “It’s nothing special, I manage. As long as the meat’s cooked, I’m not complaining.” 

“Me either,” he agrees. You lift the plates but before you can bring them to the table, he stops you. He puts the beer on the counter and brings his hands to the edges of the plates. “I got it.” 

You let him take the food and he brings it to the table. You watch him then scoop up the can and follow him. It’s going to be an adjustment. For both of you. 

You put the Molson next to his plate as he’s reluctant to claim his seat, “dig in. It’ll get cold.” 

You go back to grab cutlery and come back. You sit and hand him a knife and fork. He reaches with his left hand and hesitates as you look at his metal digits.  

He clutches the cutlery and quickly retracts. You don’t mention it though you do wonder if he’s embarrassed. Why? Isn’t that what makes him special? A hero? Or whatever he is. 

“This place is old. My ma had the same lintels on her doors in 1934.” He points with his fork to the door frame. 

“Old on top of old. Those are actually from the twenties. No one was doing renos in the thirties, I’m sure you know that. Somewhere back there, one of my great great whatever’s put in a stove and fridge and wired the place up. Kept the fire stove though. Antique now.” 

“Antique, like me,” he scoffs. 

You nod, unsure how to respond. You hope you don’t think you were implying anything. You get a bit carried away. Your mother and grandmother were always into genealogy and you caught a bit of the bug. 

Or maybe he thinks you’re over explaining. He was alive. He would know all these things and could guess the rest. You bite into the meatloaf and stare at the painted trim on the plate. 

“Ma’s place was taken down. Lived near the base since dad was there and they flattened it for a firing range. Now the place in New York... drug den now. New York, glamourous, really. You’re missing out,” he tuts dryly. 

You look up at him and give a tight-lipped expression, “sorry to hear that.” 

“It is what it is. The world changes. With or without you,” he reaches for the beer and swigs. His blue eyes dart to the wall and sharpen. He put the can down with a bit of force and pats his chest. He feels around and grimaces. “I’m gonna have a--” there’s a crinkle and he slides out another sucker. “Well...” 

He waves the candy at you and stands. You watch him silently and scrape your fork through the mashed potato. He twirls the stick between his fingers. 

“It’s good,” he points to his plate, “really.” He clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “back soon.” 

He turns and marches out. You look down at your food and slice into the loaf. The grainy scent of the beer wafts over. You take another bite as your forehead creases in thought. Sam’s a funny guy and this feels a bit like a joke. 

[sharenadraculea]

If the primarchs had social media

Lion: There is nothing on his accounts. Not even a profile-picture. Someone is still logging into them every so often. Fulgrim: On all the plattforms. Primarely family-blogger: look at my perfect kids, my perfect spaceship, my perfect partner, my perfect healthy breakfest, my perfect make-up. OnlyFans-account on the side. Get‘s into controversies all the time. Perty: Angry rants. Has spent to much time on Twitter. Old man yells at cloud type of stuff. Jagh: And this is how we‘ll break the speed-limit today! Talks about bikes, how to mod them, drives them around very fast, ect. Occasional horse-pictures. Leman: Puppies! Just cute dog-pictures and -videos, of every canine he encounters in the galaxy Rogal: He isn‘t very good at social media. Sometimes posts bad selfies or pictures of his building projects. Completly ignores all of Pertys hate-comments Konrad: He writes fanfic. Edgy, dark, not very good fanfic. The protag is a clear self-insert and Mary Sue and brings justice to all the settings he puts them in. A ton of spelling errors. The plot barely holds together. He is very proud of it. Sang: He has official accounts with pretty pictures of him everywhere, but he has some private accounts that are just like his art and sometimes cute family pictures. Also why can I see Sang having a Vtuber-persona he livestreams with so people don‘t recognize him? Ferrus: Appears on Fulgrims accounts fairly often. Maybe does some gaming-content on the side Angron: Everything is very sporadic and when it‘s there it‘s pretty angry. Surprisingly talks a lot about issues with his disabilities and that he needs way more help than he get‘s and also all his trauma. Struggles a lot with typing and forming sentences, so it can be hard to understand at times. Roboute: A channel with tutorials for stuff like running a planet or putting on armour. If people ask him to explain something he can just send them a link. Morty: Not very active, sometimes pictures of some funky plants and little texts about them. Magnus: Video-essays. He dissappers for months and then returns with a four-hour-video (minimum) about the most random topic. Hugely popular. Horus: Look at my sexy abs! Look at my huge bicep! Soft-porn-pictures of him and his sons. Probally also had OnlyFans. Lorgar: Social media is great for preaching! So he does that! Deletes all his accounts after monarchia. Vulkan: Food! He loves trying out new recipes from diffrentc cultures! At the start of every recipe is a pagelong story, which people actually read Corvus: Also writes Fanfic. Very, very good fanfic if a bit edgy at times. Kind of has a rivalery with Konrad. Also runs a very active blog, about both writing and justice, with occasional bits about guerilla-warfare Alpharius Omegon: Just the worst trolls. Dozens if not hundreds of sockpuppet accounts. They are having a good time.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 2)

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who tries really hard to talk to you but you’re making it so fucking difficult.

☆ Milf Abby who tries calling, texting, literally all forms of communication but you leave her on read and you don’t even pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who’s frustrated but she knows she deserves it.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up one morning to see you sent her a text.

With shaky hands she clicked on the message. The simple text read 4 words:

“me, you this Friday?”

Abby blinked, and she sat in silence for a while.

Holy shit this was happening.

She responded with a simple “ok ill pick you up at six”.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up from her bed and yells “I got the girl!” But soon regrets it when Aubrey walks in and tells her to shut up.

☆ Milf Abby who was on cloud nine all week.

☆ Milf Abby who tells her coworkers about the pretty girl she’s going on a date with on Friday.

☆ Milf Abby who smiles at you, when she picks up Aubrey, and her heart feels like it could explode when you give her a little wave.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey what your favorite color is because she wants to wear an outfit in that color, because she read in an article it’ll increase her chances.

“C’mon baby tell me” Abby groaned.

“Give me chocolate first”

Abby’s jaw dropped.  “Aubrey its 9pm, you know you can’t eat chocolate at this time”

“No chocolate, no color”

Abby let out a sigh as she walked out of Aubrey’s room to her secret chocolate stash. She pulled out a chocolate bar, and she gave it to the little girl. Aubrey immediately opened the bar and she took a big bite.

“ok talk”

“she likes green” Aubrey spoke with a mouth full of chocolate.

☆ Milf Abby who takes her daughter to bed, and orders a custom suit in green.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and finds out they hired someone new.

“Who is he?” she asked while looking at Nora.

“I don’t know man”

“as long as she doesn’t break my record”

Nora rolled her eyes “of course he won’t abs, you’ve won the most cases in this whole firm”

☆ Milf Abby who tenses when she sees who was hired.

☆ Milf Abby who felt sick when he walked towards her.

“hi I’m- “

“heaters dad”

“Yeah” he chuckled “my name is actually Jason”

“I’m Abby”

The air was tense.

“what do you want dude” Abby said irritated.

“Look are you and the new teacher together?” He asked. Abby felt her eye twitch at his question.

“It’s none of your business”

☆ Milf Abby who thought her week was ruined, but when she got home her suit had arrived.

☆ Milf Abby who almost pees herself on Friday morning because today is the day.

☆ Milf Abby who takes the day off to get away from Jason and to relax.

☆ Milf Abby who spends hours on Pintrest to look for the perfect hairstyle.

☆ Milf Abby who’s ready by 3 in the afternoon.

☆ Milf Abby who asks Aubrey and her dad how she looks before she walks out.

“So how do I look?” she watched her dad smile at her.

“you look perfect Abby”

“now go get your girl!” she heard Aubrey yell.

☆ Milf Abby who made you a bracelet, and flowers out of paper.

☆ Milf Abby who sees Jason’s car outside the school.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart shatters when she hears your conversation.

“I’m going on a date with Abby” she heard your voice.

“Isn’t she too old for you? She’s in her 40s isn’t she?”

“what does age have to with anything?”

“she’s old”

yeah she was.

fuck, Abby knew too old. She didn’t even stay to listen to the conversation.

Abby ran out the school and she sobbed in her car. She should’ve know this would never work.

If only she stayed behind to hear how you defended her. If only she waited for you.

☆ Milf Abby who came home crying.

“Mommy what’s wrong- “Abby walked right past her daughter

“it’s ok let her go” she heard her dad say.

☆ Milf Abby who fell asleep crying.

☆ Milf Abby who wakes up with multiple texts from you.

“Hey where are you?”

“Abby?”

“are you ok?”

“I’m waiting for you”

“I’m home now”

“did you change your mind”

“Abby?”

With a shaky breath Abby blocked your number.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your existence once again.

☆ Milf Abby who sees you smiling at her, but she just nods back at you.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you have no future together.

Aubrey climbed into the car, and before Abby could drive away she heard a knock on her window. It was you.

“Hey” Abby said after lowering the window.

“Hi Abby- “

“call me Mrs. Anderson” she watched as your face dropped.

You cleared your throat “I’m sorry Mrs. Anderson, I just wanted to ask what happened the other night?”

“I realized that this wasn’t going to work”

“why?”

“because you’re too young. I need someone more mature”

“Oh”

Abby could feel the sadness radiating off you.

“You should go for someone your own age”

“Ok Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Thank you for your time”

☆ Milf Abby who feels bad after her daughter calls her stupid.

☆ Milf Abby who makes a realization by the help of her daughter.

“You made my teacher sad”

“Aubrey I don’t care stop telling me- “

“you do care. I see the way you look at her” Abby sighed at her daughter’s answers.

She does care. She downloaded social media to stalk you. She stared learning internet slang for you.

“Heathers dad said that he wants to ask her on a date-”

“what?”

“I heard him say that he’s going to ask her out but then I said no because you wanted to go on a date with her”

Then it clicked.

He was there that day to cause trouble.

fuck.

He wanted to get into Abby’s head. And he did. He started working at Abby’s law firm to watch her. To figure out her moves. Her weaknesses.

He must’ve heard her and Nora talk about the age gap. She made a mistake.

☆ Milf Abby who runs to unblock your number and calls you.

☆ Milf Abby who felt like she could cry when you didn’t pick up.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpers your name when you eventually pick up the phone.

“what do you want Mrs. Anderson?”

“No look I made a mistake, please listen- “

“you can’t keep doing this….You say you like me then you ghost me- I’m sick of your shit Abby”

“look I heard Jason say that you deserve someone younger- “

“well maybe I do”

Abby went quite at that.

You spoke up again: “I need someone who’s mature, someone who can communicate but what do I know Abby I’m immature, am I not? Because apparently you know what that maturity means”

“Please” she sighed.

“Please I’m begging you” Abby begged again.

The line went quite for a while.

“Come to my class tomorrow so we can talk”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to work the next day and she goes to Jason’s office.

☆ Milf Abby who confronts him, and almost beats the shit out of him when he calls her a grandma.

☆ Milf Abby who gets into trouble but it was worth it.

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your class later that day.

She watched as you sat behind your desk. “Sit” you commanded and she did.

☆ Milf Abby who tells you the whole story.

“sorry won’t cut it Abby, you said the same thing the last time”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have the right to ghost me”

“I’m sorry”

“Look just one more chance please”

“why should I trust you?”

“because I’m me”

You rolled your eyes at Abby’s response.

Abby reached out to grab your head, and your head snapped in the direction of you interlocked fingers.

“words mean nothing” you spoke.

“just trust me please and-” but before she could finish you leaned in to kiss her.

It was slow, passionate, and it was filled with so much love. Abby pulled away, only to get up and walk to side of the desk where you sat. She went on knees and she and put her hands on your waist. The two of you started at each other.

“Fuck” she breathed before you kissed her again.

☆ Milf Abby who jumps up when she heard Aubrey yell “ew!”

☆ Milf Abby who was really embarrassed.

☆ Milf Abby who turned as red as a tomato, she felt like a teenager being caught in the act.

“Why did you go on your knees?” you asked, still heavily breathing.

“it’s a way of showing submission” she shrugs.

“I’m trying to show you that you have me, despite our age difference” Abby explained.

“I’d let you do anything to me” she confessed.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night and smile the whole time.

☆ Milf Abby who keeps touching her lips, because yours were there.

☆ Milf Abby who apologizes to Aubrey for seeing such an act.

“It’s ok” the little girl reassured her.

“Now go get her before Heathers dad does”

☆ Milf Abby who shows up to school the next day to bring you lunch.

☆ Milf Abby who spells out the words “May i be your girlfriend?” with different fruit in the lunch box. All you did was smile at the sight.

☆ Milf Abby who was chewing her nails, waiting for your response.

“This is very romantic Anderson” you spoke. She watched as you but the lunch box on the table, you walked towards her.

“Get on your knees Abby” and she did so immediately.

“Why?” she asked while being on her knees.

“you’re too tall, I can’t kiss you when you’re standing”

The two of you shared a quick kiss.

“So is it a yes?” Abby asked, her lips inches away from yours.

“Yeah”

“Fuck yes” she breathed as she got up, picking you up and placing you on your desk. The two of you shared another kiss before you pulled away.

“Promise me something”

“What?”

“No more ghosting”

“yes ma’am”

“you’ll tell me if you feel insecure”

“yes”

“and one more thing Abby”

“what?”

“you aren’t too old for me. I like my women mature” you added as you wrapped your arms around her neck. Abby chuckled.

☆ Milf Abby who wanted to kiss you again before she heard your daughter yell “fucking finally” as she stood at the door.

“Who taught you that word?”

“grandpa did”

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who was the happiest women ever, since that moment.

☆ Milf Abby who knew you were the one.

☆ Milf Abby who already goes wedding ring shopping and who plans your future together despite only dating you for 2 days at that point.  

My pookies (the tag list): @mousymaven @lia-winther @zombholic

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: everything goes wrong. twice.

cw: sexual tension, fighting, reader breaks their hand

wc: 7.9k

The annoying lack of street lights down on this road, coupled with the fact you haven’t been to Lover’s Lake since you were eight years old was making it near impossible to figure out where the hell you were supposed to be going. Heather told you to pull into Crystal View where the lake houses and vacation cabins were to find a place to park, but she forgot to mention where the party was in proximity to the small subdivision. 

After turning down the radio to see better, you drive for the third, maybe fourth time down the same road in search for a sign of life in the trees. When the almost full moon decides to peak out from behind the clouds you’re able to see smoke above the treeline. Throwing your car into park in front of an empty cabin, you make the trek towards the smoke. Thankfully someone was playing music so loud that you could hear it at the edge of the wood, so you follow it like a siren song until light started breaking through the thicket. Voices could be heard even over the music, yelling and laughter giving away that this party was packed. 

When you finally break through into the clearing you’re instantly overwhelmed. There’s no way that there were only members of Hawkins' young adult scene in attendance with the sheer amount of bodies that were present. And, my god, did it absolutely reek of weed. Not that you care if people partake in a little devil’s lettuce, but damn. Pushing through the crowd of people looking for a familiar face, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you jump. Turning around, fully prepared to shrug a creep off, you’re relieved to see Jonathan Byers instead.

“Oh, shit, hey,” you say, going in for a quick hug, “I didn’t know you’d be here. Didn’t take you for a party type.”

He gives you a quick pat on the back, nodding his head, “Thanks, call me a loser more subtly next time.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant!” 

He pushes your shoulder, giggling like an idiot. “Nah, man it’s cool I know you’re just joking.”

“Oh my god, Jonathan Byers are you fucking high right now,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder back.

“Pfft, no you’re high right now,” his slur makes you think he might actually be cross faded. Little shy Jonathan Byers who used to sit by himself at recess was high as a kite in front of you right now. It looks like he’s about to say something else, but a guy standing behind him gets his attention. His brown curls and soft features seem familiar to you, but you can’t place who you’re looking at. 

You don’t get to ponder on it much more when your name is called from across the party. Heather is jumping and waving from where she’s mingling with a small group of people, Barb being one of them as she stands behind her. You give Jonathan a quick see you later and make your way over to Heather’s waiting arms.

Immediately she brings you in for a tight hug, and you can smell the Smirnoff Ice on her breath when she squeals in your ear. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you came!” She pulls away, grabbing your arms to turn you towards her circle of friends. “Guys, this is my new coworker that I’ve been talking about!”

Doing a quick scan of the circle, you don’t seem to know anyone. However, when you look past the guy directly in front of you, you pick up on the other three that you saw at the diner that say. Steve Harrington talking to -- or rather being talked to by some super sloppy drunk frat bro as Tommy and Carol make out at the bench they're sitting at. Even from where you stand you can tell that he’s completely checked out.

“This is Tammy,” Heather places a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You introduce yourself to Tammy, her southern accent reminding you of your neighbors in Arizona that had moved in from Texas. The three of you talk for a bit. Well, you stand there listening to them talk about whatever came to mind. They both have so much energy that you can barely get a word in anyway. 

A cup being placed in your hands pulls you out of the conversation. Barb stood next to you, a knowing expression on her face as she takes a sip of her own drink. “You know you’re being stared at right,” she says after a moment, her eyes looking behind you. 

Following her line of vision, you’re surprised to find a pair of hazel eyes staring you down. No longer being entertained by the belligerent college student, Steve leans against the bench, annoyance written all over his face. You expected him to look away when he realized he’d been caught, pretending that he was looking at anything else but you. Instead he pushes off the bench and makes his way straight to you. You watched as some of the party goers moved out of the way as he walked, anticipating his approach and cowering away.

Between his behavior at Benny’s back at the beginning of the summer and the way his presence seems to instill a fear in those around him made you wish he would just walk past you right now. Maybe you could make a break for it before he got to you, if you just pushed through the crowd--

Oh. What’s that smell? 

It’s strong, musk maybe, with a hint of sweetness that reminded you of the natural smell of mint or maybe eucalyptus. It made your head feel fuzzy.

“Hey.”

He was so close. You could faintly smell the beer on his breath as he spoke in your ear. His voice was slightly fried and it sent little sparks throughout your body. With his close proximity you realized that the smell was coming from him as it flooded your nostrils. It didn’t have that chemical smell that you’d gotten used to from men’s cologne over the years, so whatever he was wearing must be expensive. It made sense, Heather always referred to him as King Steve with the way he ruled the high school when he was in attendance leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him with every girl (and guy according to some rumors) that fell under his spell. Another reason why you should be trying to run away, but your body wasn’t cooperating with your brain at the moment.

“Hi,” you didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth, “Can I help you?”

His smile made your heart flutter, and his laugh made you feel weak at the knees. He towered over you, his solid athletic frame silhouetted as he blocked the light from the fire behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. When he says your name it makes you straighten up. You realize he’s asking you a question.

“Yes, yeah, that’s my name,” you stutter, dying inside from embarrassment. He nods, “I thought so. It’s a pretty name, fitting for a pretty girl.” His words hit you in the face like a brick, and suddenly you could turn into a puddle at his feet. You mutter a thanks, eyes looking anywhere but his face in an attempt to regain your composure.

“I wanted to, uh, apologize for the other day. At Benny’s. I’m sorry if I came off as a jerk.” You look up at him again, his expression soft, sincere. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you place a hand on his arm, “Jonathan said you had a rough morning. Something about your breakfast not agreeing with you. Don’t worry about it.” 

“My breakfast…” You watch as he turns towards the party, neck craning to a stop where you can see Jonathan sitting in a circle with the guy he was talking to earlier and a couple others. He looks over in your direction, clearly high out of his mind as he waves at the two of you. You let out a snort, and Steve shakes his head as he turns back to you.

“Either way, I should have introduced myself better,” he looks you up and down. It made your clothes feel tight the way his eyes wandered over your body. You started to second guess your choice of attire for the evening.

“Well, maybe we can start over?” you suggested, looking up at him through your lashes. He crosses his arms, the sleeves of his polo squeezing his biceps. He leans into you, bodies almost touching as he takes up your entire vision. “I think I’d like that,” he says, eyes looking at your lips.

“Hey, Steve!” Both of you turn as his name is called, Tommy and Carol pushing their way through the crowd towards you. “We got trouble. Leech at 10 o’clock.” Steve takes a couple steps back, looking between you and something off in the distance. Tommy and Carol stand behind him, and suddenly Jonathan and his group are there as well. Slowly you turn, eyes on the tree line with theirs. You start to feel uneasy, unsure of what they’re waiting on to emerge from the cover of the trees.

Not a moment later you watched movement coming from the brush as a body became illuminated by the moonlight. You had to do a double take when you saw who it was, brown curls bouncing in as he fought his way through a bush. He came.

“Eddie!” You called out for him. You could see his smile from where you stood when he heard you. As you went to go to him a hand grabbed you by the arm stopping you. Steve stepped in front of you, eyes locked on Eddie in a fierce scowl. Eddie stopped just a few feet short, smile reaching his eyes.

“Hey, there, princess,” he addressed you, ignoring Steve’s presence, “Sorry I’m late. Had some stuff to take care of.”

Steve huffed a laugh, “Stuff? Can’t even come up with a proper excuse, huh?”

Eddie finally looks to Steve, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, when I said princess I was referring to her,” he nods his head to you, “But if you want me to call you princess, too…I think we could make that happen.” 

Jonathan and his crew let out little giggles at Eddie’s words, and Carol swats at them to stop. When you look at Steve, you are expecting him to be furious, but his expression reads almost flustered for a moment before shaking it off. “S-shut up, freak. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You know you’re not welcome here.”

You step in front of Steve now, facing him as you stand between him and Eddie, “What? Why isn’t he allowed to be here?” Steve’s mouth opens slightly, looking between your eyes as he tries to conjure the words to say. 

“H-he’s…he’s just not.” Unsatisfied with his excuse, you turn on your heel with a humph, walking over to join Eddie. You stand next to him, grabbing his hand. It’s cold to the touch, like it could melt from the heat of your palm. Eddie looks to your hands, then to your face, but you don’t react, keeping your attention on Steve. 

“Well, he came here to see me,” you state, standing your ground. Eddie’s eyes light up, and he looks at Steve smugly.

“Yeah, she invited me.”

You watch as Tommy, Carol and the rest all look at Steve, the party around them completely oblivious to anything happening. Steve shakes his head, puffing out his chest, “You know the rules. No leeches on this side of the lake.”

You scoff, pulling Eddie closer to you, “Fine then. Let’s go, Eddie.” He lets you guide him, waving his free hand over his shoulder as you head back towards the brush. Steve’s panicked voice calls for you to stop, but you ignore him, the two of you pushing further into the woods until the sound of the party starts to sound far away. 

When you come to a stop, you drop Eddie’s hand and grumble in frustration. “Ugh, what a fucking ass hole.” You turn to look at Eddie to find he’s looking very intently at the hand you were holding, a goofy grin plastered on his face. You hold your own hand, feeling the slight chill that lingered from his touch. “I’m sorry,” you say, and he finally looks up at you, “I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you.”

Eddie dismisses you, waving a hand flippantly, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m used to it by now.” He takes a few wide steps, closing the gap between you. Big, honey brown eyes look down at you, almost glowing with the way the moon light hits them through the cracks in the trees. 

Standing with him like this, just the two of you alone in the woods, you think about how many times you’ve been told to stay away. That the man standing in front of you is dangerous, a monster. And from what you’ve seen, what you’ve felt…maybe he is. But, in this moment, you’ve never felt more safe. 

“I do appreciate you stepping in to save me from the big bad wolf.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say with a shrug, “I guess…that makes us even for the car thing…”

He goes quiet for a moment, just looking at you like he’s trying to find something written on your face. It starts to worry you, you hope you didn’t take things too far. You didn’t want him to run away from you again. 

“Can I show you something?” His question surprises you, but you nod with excitement. He takes your hand in his, and you take notice that it feels warmer than before. He doesn’t give you much time to think about it before he’s leading you along through the woods. As the two of you bob and weave through the trees, you decide to take advantage of the situation and try and crack open his shell.

“So, what beef do you have with Steve that you’re banned from Loch Nora parties?”

He chuckles, tilting his head a bit, “It’s not anything personal with Steve. He pretends to hate me more than he actually does…” He trails off for a moment. You watch the way he sticks his tongue out as he thinks and laugh to yourself. “Remember how I told you this town doesn’t like my family?” You nod, he smiles, “Well, it’s mostly because the top dogs that stay in Loch Nora are the ones who hate us the most. There are other people who hate us without the assistance of the House Wives of the Loch spreading rumors at their little club meetings and in line at the grocery store. But, the majority of this town looooooves to gossip.” You’re not sure if it’s purposeful, but he keeps squeezing your hand as he talks.

“That’s not a good enough excuse for me,” you shake your head in frustration, “He was being a dick because, what, someone else told him he should not like you? Stupid.”

“It is stupid in most circumstances,” he shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “But, you never know. Maybe some of the rumors are true?” 

Your mind immediately goes to your conversation with Heather and Barb. “Well, there’s no way the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.”

“Oh, really? Well now I want to know what you’ve heard,” he says, eyebrows lifting into his bangs. There are times where he’s walking so fast you feel like he’s going to start dragging you, but he slows down when he notices you struggling to keep up. 

“Funny thing, Heather is convinced that you’re, like, a vampire or something,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible. He’s quiet for a moment, but you hear him covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. “Whaaaat,” you start to laugh with him.

“I’m sorry that’s just so stupid,” his hand runs over his curls. He looks at you with that million dollar smile and you feel your knees get weak. 

“Yeah, I know, right?” You say, trying to cover up that you may have believed it a little bit. The two of you walk a little bit further until you see trees starting to clear at the top of a small hill. Once you reach the top, you take in the sight of a huge rock with strange shaping to it. It sits amongst smaller rocks, creating a small gap underneath. He lets go of your hand, much to your dismay, and approaches the structure. 

“This is skull rock,” he says as he pats the side of the largest rock. You walk closer to it, the size of it only seems to grow as you approach it like an optical illusion. 

“Wooooow, it’s huge,” you say in awe. He lets out a snort, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god, you are so immature,” you say as you try to fight your own laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he clears his throat, “that, uh, that's probably not the first time someone has said that here, though.”

“Really,” you say with curiosity. You take a step towards him. 

“Oh, yeah. Kids back in the 80’s used to come out here to mess around all the time. You know they call it Lover’s Lake out here for a reason.”

You take another step closer. “So you’re saying that, hypothetically, if someone were to bring another person out here…” You’re directly in front of him now, practically pressing into his chest with your own. You don’t miss the way he swallows. His eyes aren’t on your face, but just below it. He doesn’t back away. “That they might have a ‘motive’?”

His eyes jump to yours, and you swear you see the ring of honey disappearing as melted dark chocolate takes over his irises. It’s tense, the staredown between the two of you. Like a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. But the moment you let your eyes wander down to his lips, he’s on you. 

Faster than you can comprehend, his hands are cupping your face and his lips crash into yours. You gasp at his quick movements, but immediately reciprocate once you get your bearings. Your hands are on the lapels of his vest, trying to pull him even closer to you as you lick his bottom lip. There’s a slight hesitation on his end, but he obliges, parting his lips and letting his tongue mingle with yours. 

Eventually you need to pull away for air. You expect him to do the same, but instead he moves to kiss down your neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but with just enough pressure to make the heat start to spread in your body. Your fingers tangle in his curls, eliciting a low groan against your neck from him. Slowly, you let your free hand wander down his chest, surprised to be able to feel a chill through the fabric. It’s only when you reach the waistband of his jeans that his skin feels normal again. You can’t even begin to describe how badly you want to ask about what you’re feeling, but you don’t want to risk ruining this moment with him. 

Suddenly his hands are only your waist, pulling you back with him into the shadow of the rock. He’s looking around, and you’re not sure what he’s trying to find. Not liking his attention being off of you, you push against him, guiding him down to sit on the ground below you. His eyes are almost black now, glazed over watching you as you lower yourself in his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes at him. 

“Hi,” he says back, a goofy grin spreading across his face. You lean in, letting your lips collide with him, picking up the pace to get back to the mood you were in before. In your new position you’re able to grind down on his lap, his hands flying to your hips as you do with a tight grip. As you roll your hips, you feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans through the swimsuit bottoms under your dress. There’s a moment in your mind where you think about how hard it is, almost like rubbing against a rock, but brush past it as his teeth scrape against your neck. A whine escapes you, feeling yourself getting wetter as his hands start to guide you with an iron grip across his length. He nips at your skin just below your ear, and your hands go flying to his hair, breathing out his name as his tongue rolls over the spot. You can feel your heart beating in your chest as you’re getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

Everything happens all at once. One second you’re about to reach your peak, the next you’re flying backwards and landing on your side, letting out a shriek of pain when you hit your bruised rib. You roll over onto your back and put your hand on your side to try and soothe the pain. When you finally look at Eddie, he looks like a wild animal. Eyes wide, fingers digging into the ground on either side of him. As his chest heaves, you think that this may be the first time you’ve seen him breathe.

“What the fuck was that,” you finally bark out after a moment, a strain in your voice from the pain. He doesn’t say anything, scrambling backwards further away from you under the rock. You wait a moment to see if he will respond, but his silence only makes you furious. Slowly you stand up, hand still on your side as you brush the dirt and leaves off you with the other. 

You give him one last chance to speak up, waiting for him to say anything to explain himself. But when he covers his mouth with his hand you know you’re wasting your time. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you say as you turn on your heels, walking back into the woods.

“W-wait,” you hear him choke out, but you ignore him letting yourself disappear into the treeline. Pulling out your phone, you look at your location on the maps to see that he’s taken you way out from where your car was parked. “What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You knew that you had followed him for a bit, but it would probably take you more than 30 minutes to get to your car. You sigh and begin your trek, keeping an eye on your location dot to make sure you’re going in the right direction. You don’t want to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel like a pair of eyes are on you the whole way. “Eddie, you better not be following me,” you shout out into the woods, but you get no response. For good measure you grab your keys from your dress pocket and position them between your fingers.

By the time you make it back to civilization your feet are aching. And when you finally get to your car, you could almost cry as you slide into the driver’s seat. You plug your phone in and find something to listen to as you pull off of the street. Even with the music turned up and your speedometer reading over 60 miles an hour, you still can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. The feeling follows you all the way home, only going away once you walk through the front door of the cabin, closing it behind you.

“You’re home early.” You turn away from the door to see your dad sitting on the couch, the light from the tv illuminating his frame where he had clearly fallen asleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, dad,” you say with a quiet voice.

“No, no I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes,” he says as he sits up. You just roll your eyes as you walk to your room. You grab your shower stuff and your night clothes, making your way to the bathroom to wash the total shit show of a night from your skin. As you begin to undress, you notice something on the skin of your neck. Getting a closer look, you see right below your ear a little blood trail that’s recently dried up just above a hickey.

It’s a bleak and uneventful day. You’re by yourself all morning now that Eden is back in school, left to unload a truck that came in at the start of the day on your own. You couldn’t complain, though, because it at least gave you something to do. Most of the foot traffic had been in the Starbucks, Barb and Heather busting ass to make coffee for all of Hawkins since the store in town was closed for renovations or something. 

The door chime rings for the millionth time, and you shout an annoyed greeting over the bookshelves as you put away a box of action figures on a shelf.

“Rough day,” a familiar voice calls. You turn, eyes landing on Steve as he makes his way towards you, hands tucked into his jeans pockets. If you weren’t annoyed before you were now, especially when the smell of his cologne grows stronger as he approaches you. Damn it, he smells good.

“Not until you showed up,” you place a Darth Vadar figure on the shelf before crossing your arms, “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t expect you to be the type who can read.”

“I’m not,” he stops a few feet in front of you. “I mean,” he closes his eyes as he realizes what you said, “I can read. I just don’t do it, like, often, I guess.”

You hum, nodding slowly. “Well, maybe you should. I’m sure we have a book on manners in the For Dummies section.” His head drops, shoulders slumping at your insult. You hear him mumble something to himself and you step closer to him. “Sorry, what was that?”

He looks up at you with a grin, “I said you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else that might have hurt my feelings.” You can’t help the heat you feel in your cheeks at his compliment, but you’re set on being mad at him so you opt to give him a dirty look in response. It doesn’t seem to phase him though as he takes a few steps towards you. Your back hits the shelf as he closes in on you, his body towering over you as his arm leans against the bookshelf. That fuzzy feeling you got when you talked to him the other night comes back as his smell fills your nostrils.

“Listen, I know I was a jerk the other day, but I want to make it up to you. We’re having another party, it’s at the same place, but it’s a Locha Nora exclusive party. Invite only. And we know if someone isn’t invited.” He looks between your eyes as he waits for your response. 

“Seems like your last party was exclusive in a way, don’t you think?” 

He nods, biting on his lower lip, “Yeah, you got me. Again, I’m really sorry about that. But, the thing with Eddie, it’s…something bigger than you think it is.” 

“Really?” You look at him dubiously, scoffing at his attempt to make things more complicated than they needed to be. “Because Eddie seemed to explain it to me pretty well. All of you stuck up Loch Nora residents have beef with his family because they don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit. Seems to make sense to me.”

“That’s what he told you,” Steve asks with a brow raised. “That’s hilarious. Sure, if that’s what you want to believe then go for it. But, you’re only getting one side of the story if you do.” He pushes off of the wall, standing straight in front of you. “Or, if you want to hear my side-- our side of the story, then my invitation still stands.” 

As much as you don’t want to admit it, you probably should talk to him about what happened. If the party is as low key as he’s making it sound, then you might be able to get more perspective on this whole confusing situation. The fact that you’re mad at Eddie right now totally isn’t having an influence on your decision.

“Will Jonathan be there,” you ask, giving in on your attitude a bit. The look he gives you makes you think he’s not super fond of Jonathan, but he nods reluctantly anyway. You uncross your arms, smiling up at him, “Are you asking me to go as a date, Harrington?”

“God, yes,” he says without hesitation.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, “Put your number in my phone so you can give me the details later. I think I’m about to have a customer.”

To say he was excited was an understatement. He made himself a contact in your phone, sending himself a text to make sure it went through. He handed it back with a smile, giving you a goodbye before leaving the store.

After you ring out your customer, Heather slams her hands on the counter, her expression wide with excitement. “Oh, em, gee, what was that earlier? Was he flirting with you? Did he give you his number? Are you going on a date? Details, I need details!”

You laugh at her desperation. You hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her about what happened that night, so you fill her in on what happened when you left. Leaving out the details with Eddie, telling her that he just walked you to your car and talked for a bit. 

“That explains what happened then,” she says with her head in her hands as she leans on your counter.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you asked.

“Oh you didn’t hear,” she straightens up, “It must have been right after you left, because I saw him talking with Tommy and Carol and the Byers guy and he seemed super heated. Then all the sudden he started like, thrashing around and acting like he was going to take off or something. It took Tommy, Carol, Byers and his little group to hold him down. They ended up carrying him off and the party kinda died down after that. It was a total bummer.”

You look at her blinking in disbelief. You start to second guess your decision to go to this party with Steve, having to tell yourself that you still want to hear his side of the story with everything. Jonathan being there made you feel a little better, giving you  an out in case you want to get away from Steve.

“Wow, you look-”

“Watch it, Harrington,” your dad shouts from the kitchen where he’s packing his lunch for his overnight shift. 

“Don't mind him,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “Now what were you going to say?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair before gesturing at you, “I was just going to say you look beautiful. I hope that’s not too explicit of a compliment.” There he goes again making you feel all fuzzy. You’re not even dressed up really, maybe a step above casual. But he makes you feel like you stepped out in an evening gown on the red carpet. Your dad grunts.

“Okay, well I’m going now,” you call back to him, “I’ll be back later tonight. Have a good night at work, pops.” He gives you a quick “be safe” as you step out, closing the door behind you. Steve walks you to his car, a shiny new BMW that looks out of place next to your beater truck and your dads cop car. He opens the door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt for you.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Steve,” you say as he slides into the driver’s seat, “It’s not like you’re taking me to Enzo’s.”

“Do I have to take you to Enzo’s just to treat you like you deserve?” He does that thing where he has one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your seat, and his neck craning to look out the back window as he backs out of your driveway. Why that’s hot, you have no idea.

“No, I guess not.” 

You notice that the more you drive, the more his car smells like his cologne as if he sprayed it inside. Not that you’re complaining, but it is a little overwhelming and it makes your body feel warm. “Hey, what cologne do you use?”

He looks at your confused, “I don’t wear cologne? Why do you ask?”

“You don’t?” You question. “But every time I’m around you, you smell like a fancy cologne.” 

“Really?” He asks with a curious chuckle. “What, uh, what do I smell like to you?”

“Um, like, woodsy? With a mint or something…” You feel stupid for even bringing it up. But he seems to be enjoying the way you describe his scent.

“And you like those smells, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I do,” you look out the window to hide your face at your admittance. 

“Good…” 

When Steve pulls into the Loch Nora entrance, you’re in awe at some of the houses hidden away from the street the further you go in. Why anyone with this level of money would want to stay in small town Hawkins rather than a state, or even just another city without the perpetual overcast was beyond you.

After a few turns, getting deeper into the wealth of Hawkins, Steve eventually pulls into a roundabout driveway to what you assume to be his house. From the outside you could see that it was huge,so you could only imagine what the inside must look like. 

Your door opening ceases your gawking on the house, Steve offering you a hand as you slide out of the beemer. You think he’s going to lead you to his home, but as he takes you past the house and through his back yard you realize the house is quiet, dark with no signs of life inside. 

“We just have to go past this bit of brush. It’s a bit of a walk, so if it gets to be too much for you let me know, I don’t mind carrying you.” He sends a wink your way, and you roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m stronger than you think I am, Harrington,” you say as you flex your arm at him. He ducks his head, pulling you close so that he can talk lowly directly into your ear, “So am I.” Goosebumps rise on your neck where his breath fanned the skin. You want to say something snarky back, but the tight patterning of the trees took over your attention as you walked deeper into the woods. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran into any scary wildlife with how much you’ve been in the woods lately. You kept your grip on Steve’s hand tight just in case.

After walking for maybe 15 minutes or so, Steve lifted a branch of the way for you as you passed into the opening. The large branch snapped off, and you just looked at him as he held the heavy wood in his hand. He looked at you with a funny smile. “Whoops,” he says as he shrugs, “Hey, guys, I got some more firewood.”

His free arm wraps around your shoulder, waving the branch with the other as he leads you over to the fire. It was much more tame compared to the last party here. Only a handful of people sat around the fire, some familiar, but a majority of them were strangers. You wave when you spot Jonathan, his little group from the last party sitting around him, you give him an enthusiastic wave. He ducks his head, eyes shifting from you to Steve before he gives you a sheepish wave back. 

Steve stops in front of a set of empty folding chairs, like the ones you see people sitting in at sport games and tells you to get comfortable. You plop down awkwardly in the chair, everyone either staring at you or talking quietly to each other with shifting glances. The heavy thump of the tree limb hitting the ground had you whipping your head around. Low laughter rises from the circle, and you hear a low “show off” in Jonathan’s group’s direction. You don’t really understand how no one is freaking out over Steve carrying a heavy ass branch that looks more like a log the more you stare at it. But the chatter quiets as he takes his seat next to you.

“Hey, do you want a beer,” Carol asks from her seat next to you with an unopened bottle in her hand. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you say as you take it. “Oh shit, anyone got a bottle opener?”

“Sorry, my bad,” she says, taking the bottle back from you. You’re fully expecting her to grab a bottle opener from the cooler, but instead she pops it off like a twist top. She hands it back to you, and you want nothing more than to ask how the hell she did that, but you’re interrupted by the sounds of laughter across the fire. 

“What the hell is so funny over there,” Steve yells. The laughter lets up only a bit, some of the boys barely holding it together.

“Patrick said he saw two of the leeches at the store today,” one of the boys says. 

“Don’t know why they bother going out in public,” another one says.

“What were they even there for?” Your head snaps to Jonathan, shocked to hear him speak up.

“It looked like balloons and shit. Like for a birthday or something,” the one you assume to be Patrick says.

“You can’t be serious,” one of the girls laughs, “What are they celebrating, their deaths?”

You look up at Steve, who seems to be just as confused as the rest of the group. You nudge your elbow against his arm, and he looks over to you with his full attention. “Sorry, uh, hey guys. No more leech talk,” he yells, nodding his head towards you. 

“Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me,” you say as you wave your hands, “I was just going to ask who you guys were talking about. Who are the leeches?” You had an idea of who they were talking about, recalling the confrontation at the last party where “leech” was thrown around when Eddie showed up, but you wanted the confirmation before you assume anything.

Everyone’s eyes are on Steve now. You feel embarrassed for even saying anything now. Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I guess you can get our side of the story now,” he says as he straightens up in his seat. “The leeches are the Brenner’s. I think you know by now that we, uh, don’t exactly get along with their kind.”

“Their kind,” you ask confused, “What do you mean by that?”

Steve breathes out through his nose, “It’s hard to explain because of…reasons. But, you have to trust me when I say that they’re no good.”

“They’re dangerous,” one of the boys in Jonathan’s group chimes in.

“Yeah,” another girl adds, “They can’t be trusted.”

Carol leans into you, “We can’t explain much…yet,” she gives Steve a knowing smile before looking back to you, “but trust me, when we can tell you, you’ll totally understand where we’re coming from. For now, it would just be better for you not to get involved with them.”

“Well, it’s really hard to believe you guys when you won’t tell me anything. Eddie was at least up front with everything when I asked him about it.”

The air went cold around the fire. There was an uneasiness amongst the group; seats shifting and glances being shared. “Relax, relax,” Steve says in an attempt to ease the party, “He didn’t tell her the truth. He told her, what,” he looks over to you, “that we just start rumors about them because they don’t want to be in our drama or something, right? That all the little housewives of Loch Nora have nothing better to do than hate a family of freaks over not wanting to join their book club.”

“I mean, my mom did say something about trying to get one of the girl ones to join her book club.”

“Shut up, Garreth,” Tommy says, throwing a bottle cap at the boy's shaggy curls.

“Hey,” Jonathan turns in his seat, fully facing Tommy with his full chest.

“What,” Tommy laughs at Jonathan’s bravery, “got something to say, reject?”

Jonathan’s fists flex, and you silently root for him to just deck Tommy in the face, but he moves back in his seat, arms crossing and sight set on the fire. It makes your blood boil to see Jonathan back down so easily. Standing from your seat, you walk your happy ass right in front of Tommy, who looks up at you with more fear than is probably warranted.

“Don’t call him a fucking reject,” you speak down to him. He flinches as you speak, but it pisses you off more that he keeps looking over to Steve. So you shift your body to block his view. “Don’t look at him. Steve isn’t going to save you.”

“Believe me, I know,” he says quietly. 

“Tommy,” Carol urges, eyes avoiding yours as she looks at him with wide eyes. He gives her a look back, breathing in before standing up in his seat, almost chest to chest with you. “D-don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, outsider-”

Your fist collides with his face, his head only moving slightly from the impact. And, unfortunately for you, it felt like you had just full force punched a brick wall. 

“What the FUCK,” you squeal, grabbing your hand and pulling it close, doubling over in pain. There’s commotion from behind you, a flurry of movement as everyone is getting up from their seats. When you look behind you, almost every single person is holding Steve back, his name being repeated over and over in hopes to get his attention. Tommy falls back over his chair, and Carol is moving to help him up as he backs away from you. It happens so quickly, but the pain in your hand is preventing you from really taking in the sight before you. 

And before you can really register anything else, you feel your body lifting off the ground as your body is thrown over the shoulder of one of Jonathan’s friends. Him and the rest of Jonathan’s friends start to take off with you, heading straight into the brush.

“Hey, man, let me see your hand,” Jonathan says as he trails behind the man carrying you. When you show him, the look on his face makes you feel like you’ll be making another trip to the ER. “Jeff, can we take your car to the hospital?” Jonathan asks his other friend, who nods his head. “Garreth-”

“Already on it,” Garreth says with his phone against his ear. “Hello? Hey, Mrs. Byers, you have the chief’s number, right? Yeah, um,” he looks back towards the direction you came from. Suddenly the sound of coyotes fighting can be heard in the distance. It makes you jump, and Grant’s pace picks up. “I think everyone will be okay?”

Jonathan grabs Garreth’s phone from him. “Mom, she punched Tommy in the face.” A pause. “Yeah. Yeah. We’re about to take her to the hospital. Yeah I think her hand is broken. Okay, I’ll tell her. Love you, too, bye.” He hands Garreth his phone back and looks to you, “Mom is calling your dad on his cell.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Why the hell did you think it would be a good idea to punch Tommy Hagan in the face?” Your dad paced back and forth in your hospital room. 

“He called Jonathan a reject,” you shrug, rubbing your hand over the cast on your dominant hand, tired from all the pain medicine that you’ve been given. 

He hesitates for a moment, but continues on anyway. “Even if he did say that, you still didn’t need to resort to breaking your hand on his jaw.”

“You make it sound like I knew his jaw was made of titanium or something. It felt like hitting solid rock, dad. And he barely flinched.”

“Well…maybe we need to check to see if you have a vitamin deficiency. Or maybe you need to start hitting the bag I left in your room.”

There was a pause between the two of you, smiles creeping on both of your faces before you both burst into laughter.

“I only hit him because he stepped up to me,” you defend, “I couldn’t let them think that the police chief’s daughter was going to let some bully talk down on her.”

“Ah, yes, because the two of you are still in high school and not adults in their early twenties,” he looks at you with a raised brow. “Next time, just call me. I think I could do a little more damage.”

The curtain to your room opens and Dr.Brenner walks in with his clipboard, eliciting a moment of deja vu. “Alrighty, I think we’ve got all your discharge paperwork here. Just make sure you look at this very important part right here.” He walks over you you, handing you the packet of papers, where on the bottom of the page in pen “I promise not to come back again in 6 more weeks with another injury” is written with a little “x” and a line drawn for you to sign on. You take the pen with a smile and sloppily sign with your non-dominant hand. “Good, now that includes punching any more dogs in the face,” Brenner says with a chuckle.

“Dogs?” You look at him confused. He looks at you like a deer in headlights. 

“Sorry, I meant boys. Slip of the tongue.”

“There won’t be any more of that,” your dad says as he pats your back, “Thanks again, Martin. I appreciate you always being available. Now, go home and get some rest, you’re looking a little pale in this lighting.”

Brenner looks at you, then nods. “Of course, Hop. Will do.”

When you finally get home you quickly get ready for bed, beat from all the events of the evening. When you crawl into the bed, you plug your phone in and see that Steve had texted you. You go to open it, but decide that you’d rather deal with him later. 

That night you have another dream.

thank you for reading!

[yongbokology]

part dos of ‘don’t accidentally beat your dick to your best friend’

part one

black coded reader <3

warnings; smut

an: you asked, i delivered 🧞‍♀️

eren is a mess. a complete utter mess.

after realizing he’s been jerking it to you for the past few months, he becomes a nervous wreck around. oh it was bad.

his first encounter with you after the realization, literally happens the day after.

you were running late for work and your car was currently in the shop so you sent a rather urgent text to him with multiple crying emojis, asking him to take you to work.

without even seeing the message, he begins to panic just seeing your name pop up.

did you somehow use your woman tuition and found out he was fucking himself to you? it plagued eren’s mind for a few seconds, his hands clammy as he grasps his phone.

he lets out a sigh of relief once he reads the message and instantly responds.

‘yeah ofc, see u in a bit’

‘thx ren, you’re the best!’

oh eren feels like shit.

he felt like a pervert. like he wasn’t supposed to see you in your nakedness, pleasuring yourself for thousands to see.

“.. ren, are you okay? you’re awfully quiet today.. i’m sorry if you were busy-”

he immediately shakes his head “no! i wasn’t doing anything. i don’t mind at all.. just a bit distracted is all.” he clears his throat, eyes fixated on the road. not sparing you a single glance.

you stare at the side of his face, picking him apart in your brain. all these years the two of you had the pleasure of knowing each other, you knew eren’s mannerisms, his nervous ticks and more.

something was definitely up.

…

“god not this again. connie could you maybe not be so open about the porn you indulge in.” reiner is fed up with the porn talk, just trying to enjoy this sunday afternoon with his friends.

“okay but bro i’m telling you, this girl is fire. i’d def buy her only fans if she had one.”

eren isn’t too interested in the conversation. his head’s in the clouds. lately he’s been fantasizing about you. a lot actually.

breaking you in half. fucking your brains out in every setting possible. this was new to say the least. before, eren hadn’t had such thoughts about you.

i mean yeah he did sometimes think about what it’d be like if the two of you were together. would the two of you be good partners as you are friends? but he never thought about you in such obscene ways.

it is this next part that has eren almost falling out of his chair.

“[your user]. never heard of her?”

both jean and reiner shake their heads.

eren on the other hand feels his skin run cold, eyes bulging out his head at the username. it was your username.

connie is now pulling out his phone and eren quickly catches on that he is about to pull up your page. with frantic eyes and haste, eren waits for connie to unlock his phone and in the split second that connie rotated his screen towards the three men, eren yanks it from his grasp and dramatically let’s connie’s phone fall face down on the concrete.

“yo what the fuck man?!” connie yells, mouth ajar as he looks between eren and his phone that is definitely not working when he picks it up.

“i-i um. i’m sorry.. it slipped..”

both reiner and jean silently blink, throwing glances at each other.

“oh it fucking slipped? my five year old nephew could put on a better fucking performance.”

“i’m really sorry man. i get paid tomorrow, i’ll pay for it. i swear.”

…

“i really needed this, thanks for hanging out with me ren. karina has been more bitchy than usual.” it was no secret you hated your boss. you often ranted about her to eren, so much so that he hated her as well and doesn’t even know what she looks like.

“of course. you want some more popcorn? bowl’s almost empty.”

you nod and eren gets up from his spot on his bed and retreats to the kitchen to refill the bowl.

you shift your eyes to the tv, ‘bad boys’ currently at it’s thirty minute mark.

you feel a buzz under your butt.

with furrowed brows you shift and pull out eren’s phone that you had no idea you were sitting on.

his phone screen comes to life, him and armin in the background of the notifications that fill the screen.

there were a few from twitter and growing curious as to what eren’s twitter feed looked liked, you unlocked his phone and hit refresh.

your jaw unhinges when you pop up on his screen. fingers knuckle deep in your cunt.

you’re in shock like you literally didn’t film this a few hours ago and hit post. you just weren’t expecting to see yourself on your best friend’s timeline.

you stare at yourself, at first unsure how to react to this knowledge but then the thought of eren touching himself to you skates across your mind and suddenly you’re clenching your thighs, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

the thought arouses you.

eren comes back with the bowl filled to the brim and his smile is wiped off his face once he sees his phone in your hands.

“eren,” you start. your voice is low but sweet. “is there something you want to tell me?”

he sucks in a breath, pupils shaking as you lay the phone on the bed. he sees what you were looking at clear as day.

“y/n.. i-i can explain.”

your plump lips turn upwards into a grin. mischief writes all over them.

“come here.”

it’s a command that has him hesitantly obeying.

he sits down on the bed, farther than where he originally was.

you sigh and close the proximity by climbing into lap, the popcorn bowl being discarded to the side.

eren feels hell fire creeping up his neck. his mouth his dry and he can suddenly hear the thrumming of his blood.

“how many times have you fucked yourself to me. hm?”

his lips tremble. “a few times..” it almost comes out as a mumble.

your smirk widens at his blatant lie.

“oh eren, you and i both know that’s not true.”

you push him until his back is flat on the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips. you splay your hands on his chest and fully plant your clothes pussy on his crotch.

he could literally just cum right then and there.

“you know what i hate more than liars?”

once eren realizes you actually want him to respond he shakes his head.

you lean forward until your lips are grazing against his ear. your tits mushed against his chest.

“i hate disobedient boys,” you lean back up and eren looks dazed. aware but dazed. “are you a disobedient boy eren?”

…

needless to say, he’s not. he listens to your every command which is why he was currently whimpering, hands pressed against his chest, trying his very best not to touch you.

your mouth works wonders on his cock, it weeps in all it’s 8inch glory, precum finding it’s way onto your tongue.

you pull him out of your mouth with a lewd ‘pop’, eyeing eren as you pump his aching length. “you close?”

tears form in eren’s eyes. everything feels fuzzy. his brain is scattered but he still manages to give a slight nod. he looked so fucked out and god what a sight it was.

“you gonna cum for me pretty boy?”

the nickname makes eren whine.

“eren, answer me or you don’t get to cum.” you grit, your free hand taking hold on his throat, clenching your dainty yet powerful fingers around it.

“y-yes! yes. m’gonna c-cum.” he chokes out. his pupils becoming dilated as you speed up your hand around his cock.

you smile at this. “i want you to come in my mouth ‘kay? and you can touch me now.” your mouth is instantly on his cock after finishing your sentence.

eren props himself up on his elbows, the iron grip you still have on his neck combined with you sucking the everlasting life out of him has eren cumming in no time with a cracked moan.

“fuh-fuckkk.” tears are streaming down his face now, jaw unhinged as you lap up the messy head on his cock.

“got anymore for me?” you don’t expect him to answer, instead you squeeze on his balls and one last spurt of cum falls onto your shiny lips.

this has eren falling back flat on his back, panting heavily like he’d just finished running a marathon.

you lick at your lips and hum at the taste of him. salty, as expected but not overbearing.

“you did so good for me ren.” you smile, crawling up beside him. resting a hand on his naked chest.

eren lazily turns his head towards you, his cheeks tear stained. he looks utterly broken and it ignites something within you.

“this stays between us ‘kay?” he nods slowly at that, too tired to speak.

what in the world did he just get himself into?

.

.

.

tag list: @hellavile @animeloverzx @starlightmid @gobblethiskitty

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Melissa is released from the hospital, meanwhile, JJ is located.

WC: ~1.65k

The little boy ends up falling asleep in the car, adrenaline leaving his body and pure exhaustion setting in. When he wakes up, he wakes up to nearly being thrown out of the seat of the car again. This time though, the seatbelt catches him, and while it burns like hell on his neck- because he shouldn’t be in the car without the seatbelt, he does not repel forward. He slams back into his seat with a loud yelp, and he hears a loud bang.

Joe just crashed the car. Joe just crashed the car into a tree on one of the back roads he was taking, and the airbags deployed- saving his life. With the fire-retardant that comes out of the airbag in a big cloud, they’re both coughing, gasping for breath. Neither of them are found by the time the sun comes up.

Almost as soon as day breaks, Melissa is awake, and hellbent on getting out of the hospital. She cannot lay here idly by while her four year old son is God knows where with her jackass of an ex-husband.

“I do not care!” she’s shouting at you. She winces is pain, but she doesn’t let the aching in her ribs put out her fire. “We have to find JJ!”

“What we have to do is get you to recount what happened last night, and then I need to find out how I’m supposed to take care of you while you recover,” you tell her as you lay a hand over hers.

“When are they going to get here?!” the redhead shouts.

“Hun, it’s…” you glance over at the clock. “6:45 in the morning. Give it time, and try to get another hour’s sleep, because once we get out, you won’t be getting the rest you need to anyway.”

She, in a fit of rage, slams her hand down on the call button on the remote attached to her bed. You close your eyes and take a deep breath at that action- so defiant. You wonder how she’s a second grade teacher sometimes, and this is a prime example.

The nurse comes in, and you just give her a sympathetic look as she’s yelled at in both English and Italian.

When the nurse leaves, somewhat terrified of what she just witnessed, Melissa just taps away on her phone before answering a call.

“Tommy, you better get your ass over here now to take my damned statement before I rip you a new one,” is what she hisses into the phone.

“Mel,” you grumble as you open one eye to look at her sleepily.

She just rolls her eyes and continues on her tirade in her second language. You don’t understand any of the words she’s saying, but you do know that she’s all but threatening this man’s life if he isn’t here in a flash.

And he is. Melissa gives her statement while the doctor comes in and explains to you her recovery plan.

“Three broken ribs is no joke, but there’s also unfortunately not a lot that we can do to help the healing process along,” he sighs as he rubs at the back of his neck. “For the first few days, icing it will help. As ridiculous as it sounds, we usually do recommend a frozen bag of peas because they’re easy to move and manipulate.”

You nod, taking notes on your phone.

“She shouldn’t sit or lay for extended periods of time, sleep sitting upright for the first few days- it’s best for her to keep moving when possible to help her breathe and clear the mucus from her lungs. If she has to cough, she should not suppress it. It will be painful for her, but we do suggest holding a pillow to her chest while she does to help absorb some of the blow. If we can prevent a chest infection, we should. And when her son is located, she should refrain from holding him as much as possible- straining herself is only going to make the recovery time that much longer.”

“How long is recovery time?”

“With the damage he did to her? I’d say four to six weeks, but that would only be if she’s taking care of herself. What does she do for work?”

“She’s a second grade teacher,” you sigh.

The doctor frowns, lines drawn into his forehead. “So I guess I should write her a doctor’s note to excuse her from work for the next few-”

“She’ll never agree to that,” you tell him. “She’s a single mother who is just doing her best to make it all work, and I can guarantee that she will want to leave her kids for that long.”

“If she’s constantly straining herself at work-”

“I can get attempt to get her to agree to teach from her chair,” you argue. “But that’s probably the best I can do.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” the doctor reluctantly agrees.

Meanwhile, JJ has woken up and is in the backseat crying, Joe passed out, who’s to say whether that be from the accident or the alcohol in his system, when a kinder gentleman who occupies the land takes note of the truck on his property. He slowly approaches it, but upon hearing the little boys wails, he picks up his pace, calling for his wife.

The woman runs up alongside of him, also speeding up when she hears the little boys loud cries. They glance into the car, and while the older man clocks the open bottle of vodka right away, the woman’s eyes go right to the little boy cowering in the backseat.

“Oh my god, Jerry,” JJ can hear. He all but curls into the backseat, terrified that whoever this is might take him even further from his momma. The door opens, and the little boy can feel a warm hand on his back- on that reminds him of his nonna’s. “Hi, sweet boy. You’re okay. You’re alright.”

JJ looks up, tears still pouring over his face, a thick trail of snot falling from his nose and into his mouth. “I want Momma!”

“Okay, honey,” the woman says softly. “We’ll get you to your momma. Can you tell me your name?” When he doesn’t respond, she says as gently as she can, “I’m Bev, this is my husband Jerry.”

“JJ,” is all the little boy offers up. She gives her husband a look and mouths, ‘9-1-1’. He trails a little further up the driveway to make the call.

“Is JJ your nickname?” Bev asks him. He nods. “What does it stand for?”

“Joe Jr.”

“And how old are you, sweetheart?”

“Four,” he whimpers out, but he holds up three fingers. The little one uncurls just slightly.

“Can I pick you up?” At JJ’s nod, she smiles softly and lifts him out of the seat. He cries out in pain at his shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers.

“Daddy pulled my arm,” JJ reveals softly. He lays his head on the woman’s shoulder, hoping to find some warmth and comfort- any warmth and comfort.

Jerry walks back up to the two. “They’ll be here as soon as they can.”

It’s a bit later that the police along with an ambulance show up and speak with the elderly couple and JJ. The older couple insists on riding to the nearest hospital with the little boy and his father.

Upon getting there, they ask the little boy basic questions. 

“What’s your name?… How old are you?… Do you know these people that brought you here?… What happened?”

While all of this is happening, a few others work on Joe- and they find his license. Joseph Schemmenti… that name sounds-

“Is this the man that kidnapped his son after beating the living shit out of his ex-wife?” one of the cop’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my god,” another gasps softly.

“Melissa,” you say softly as you drive the two of you back to your apartment complex.

“I. Am. Fine,” she grits out as she holds an icepack- one from the hospital, to her body. “I don’t even care right now. I just need to find JJ.”

“And we will,” you promise her. “We will find him.”

The redhead in the passenger seat starts to crack as she looks over to you. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

You take a shaky breath at that before uttering the words, “It won’t be.” She can tell that you’re trying to convince yourself just as much as you’re attempting to convince her. 

By the time that they’re able to locate where the little boy is with the elderly couple, JJ’s shoulder has been set into place, they’ve tended to the burns from the seat belt, and Melissa has been contacted.

“Tommy, you better have-”

“We found him and Joe in a small town out by Lancaster,” the officer gets out quickly. “They’re at Lancaster General Hospital.”

The redhead nearly jumps off the couch, and you have to catch her as she stumbles. “Y/N! they have JJ! In Lancaster! We have to-“ she wheezes for breath, gripping at her ribs. “We have to go!”

“That- that’s over an hour away,” you tell her. “You can’t possibly make that trip right now- not in your-”

“We’ll be there,” Melissa says quickly into the phone before hanging up. She’s grabbing her keys and slipping her shoes on before you can get another protest out.

“You are not driving,” you practically rip the keys out of her hand. “And you are not-”

“This is my son we are talking about!” the woman shouts at you. “I do not care!”

Knowing you aren’t going to win this fight, you grab a pillow and guide her out to the car slowly.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 12

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: death of loved one, misogyny, violence. we're getting into it now my dudes, beware! chapter map

-You did not expect your father’s death to affect you so brutally, and without Paul at your side you are not sure how you would have gotten through the week that followed his passing. The funeral mass and the burial went by as a blur, and it feels like he carried you through it all. He lets you cry on his chest, and holds you through your lengthy silences.

It takes a long time for you to realize that the thing you might mourn most, are the parts of your father you were never allowed to know. The free way he spoke with you in his last days, reminiscing about your mother when he was young–it all suggested a very different man who you would have liked to have the acquaintance of. That the loss of his love destroyed him so completely scares you, true, but also…you pity him in a way you’d never thought possible. 

You wonder if maybe you are more like him than you want to admit, and you rise from the ashes determined not to be such a coward with Paul. 

You never did finish that sentence for him, but you will. When the time is right, and you are not a tearful mess clinging to him like a limpet. You tell yourself that he deserves better than that. 

-”Is it really that much better than this out there?” asks your sister Anjélica. It is a fine sunny day, a breeze cutting through the mountains. You are sitting beneath the shelter of a massive oak, watching the children of Las Nubes play with Paul. She is one year older than you, and already has two, with one on the way. 

“It’s just different,” you say diplomatically. “You’re welcome to come visit me anytime you want a change of scenery.” 

She laughs goodnaturedly at the thought, rubbing her rounded belly. “I’m afraid if I left my children and husband would starve and go feral,” she admits. You know it’s more than that, though. Her husband would never let her go to the city, just for a fun little break. There’s always too much work to be done. Good women are martyrs who do not shirk their responsibilities, no matter their own needs. 

“Heaven forbid Julio be bothered to cook something for himself and his own children,” you say with an eye roll. 

Knowing you all too well, Anjélica just smiles. She is, perhaps, the most forgiving of you and your strange ideas. “I know you think I’m trapped by marriage and children and housework…”

You make a grumbling sound in your throat, picking at a knot on the top of the wooden table. 

“But have you ever considered that I do it…because I love them?”

You blink at that, not proud of how this perspective does kind of blindside you. She chuckles at your owlish look. You think you’re so goddamn smart, and she always does this to you. 

“I know you’re still just settling in with Paul. But you’ll understand what I mean soon.”

You burn to tell her the truth–but you can’t. The ruse must go on. 

Worse yet…you’re afraid she could be right, if you and Paul do make a life together after this. You haven’t really decided what you’re going to do…but the thought of being apart from him hurts.

Your attention is drawn back to the children as a joyful yell echoes across the field. Paul has the littlest one on his shoulders, and they are running–though not too fast, from some imaginary entity. Little Lucia’s peals of laughter are, in fact, the sweetest sound on earth.

“He’s good with the children…”

You make a warning grumble to this, only winning yourself more laughter. 

You love your nieces and nephews, but you truly have no interest in making children of your own. Is something broken in you? 

Anjélica just giggles at you, a wicked glint in her eye. “Look at that man God has given you! Are you telling me you are not making love to him every chance you get?”

Your mouth twists into a reluctant smile at that. “Maybe. But you know they make these marvelous things called…” You lower your voice to a dramatic whisper. “Condoms.” If you could just fucking get your hands on some… And, diaphragms too, of which a woman was not allowed access to without the permission of her husband. Unmarried women…were just screwed, literally and figuratively. The disconnect between reality and morality in medicine was vast, and you hoped someday things would be better for women. 

Anjélica waves you off with an eye roll. “See how long he wants to wear one of those things. You’ll get tired of it too. It does not feel right, for something to be between you and your mate. You’re going to be ripe with a baby by next year. Just you wait.” 

The thought makes your skin clammy somehow despite the warm summer day. Your sister, who knows your every tell, reaches across the table to you. “I’m not trying to scare you, muñequita. It’s just…life. What happened to Mama…that’s not what it’s always like.”

Maybe it isn’t…until the one time it is, and that’s all it takes to break everything. 

-You and Paul decide that you will accompany the crew of Las Nubes to the fiesta of the harvest, partake in the festivities, and from there you will return to the world on the other side of the rabbit hole. A part of you will miss the slower pace of life in the countryside. But a part of you is eager to get back to the excitement of the bustle of the city, back behind your desk in San Francisco, and back behind your typewriter in your little rented room. 

You are still not sure yet, where Paul is going to fit into all this. 

He isn’t either, and you can tell that he is maybe experiencing an opposite reaction to the thought of returning to life outside. It’s been like living in a fairytale, carrying on like husband and wife here. Las Nubes has been home for several months, and you understand how it grows on you. 

If don Juan was not master there…maybe things could have been different.   

-After your period of mourning, you are looking forward to the bright spot of the fiesta on the horizon. Everyone dresses in their best. You don a ruffled dress you have not worn for years, and silver filigree earrings that belonged to your mother. 

Paul looks so handsome in his uniform, and you watch him dress for what you realize is the last time, in this room that has been your sanctuary.

All packed and ready to go, the two of you look around the space in each other’s arms one last time. Such grand things happened in this tiny room–with any luck, it’s just the beginning for the two of you. You smooth your hand down his tie, straightening his medals that don’t really need it. This man is so humble, but the story of his bravery is written in shining metal upon his chest.

“Ready?”

He pays you a sad smile, and you understand his reluctance to leave the bubble the two of you have made here. He has carried you these past dark days, and you decide that now you will do the same for him. 

“Today will be fun,” you try to assure him, holding his cheek. 

He leans into your touch, but you see the question in his eyes. And the day after? 

You don't have an answer to that, so you kiss him sweetly, and lead him outside.

-You try not to admire don Juan out the corner of your eye, in his short embroidered charro jacket and a silver belt cinching his slender waist. But the moment you fully look his way he makes a sweeping bow with his sombrero.

He’s been on his best behavior since your father died, but you can’t help but feel like he has something up his sleeve, especially now that you’re leaving.

Juan and his entourage will ride to town, and the rest of you will follow in the farm truck. 

-You mill around the fair with your arm linked with Paul’s, your head on his shoulder as you look at the displays and crafts and food and farm animals. Napa county has become such a melting pot. There is music, and later there will be dancing. You introduce Paul to churros and hot chocolate, and you can’t help but laugh at the way his eyes light up after that first bite. You can’t stop yourself from kissing him, your lips sweetened with cinnamon sugar. 

His mood has lifted a little, though you still sense the weight of melancholy upon him. You think to yourself that maybe today will be the day you tell him how much he means to you. Not to cheer him up–but because it’s the truth, and you’ve known it for a while now. He should too.

“Paul…”

He turns to you with hope in those soulful dark eyes, after hearing that certain note in your voice. He knows you so well. Almost like…you were made for him too.

“I–”

Of course, Juan and his entourage choose that very moment to enter the fair, greeted with shouts of, “It’s the Aragóns!” as they ride under the stone arch. You have to admit that they do cut a dashing picture, dressed to the nines upon their fine horses. You feel a reluctant kindling of pride in your heart. Juan winks at you as he trots by, but you give him nothing, except for resting your chin on Paul’s shoulder. 

You all watch as the Padre invokes the blessing of the wine–a thing you’re sure he's happy to do, as he is a notorious lush. 

After watching some of the horse show, you sit down to eat with Josefa, Anjélica, and their husbands. The levity of the fiesta has been good for all of you, after losing Papa. In the distance, you see Juan with his head bent, speaking to a severe looking anglo man in a dark suit. Juan is nodding to whatever the man is telling him, a terrible smile curling his lips. Dread settles like a stone in your gut, all your joy siphoned away in a matter of a second. You just know something bad is going to happen.

The bus to the train station in the next town has already gone. But before you can suggest to Paul that the two of you go back to your hotel to hide, don Juan swaggers up to your table, his two worst henchmen and the man in the suit in tow. 

His eyes are all for you.

“My dear, sweet, y/n. What a naughty girl you’ve been.”

You frown up him. “¿Perdón?” 

“Oh, don’t play the innocent now.” 

Where this man gets his nerve, you’ll never know, but you begin to have an inkling of what he’s about.  

“Don’t speak to me as though you’re my father,” you hiss, standing. “Come on, Paul.” Suddenly you know that the two of you need to get somewhere that don Juan does not feel as though he owns. You fear you won’t reach it until you get all the way back to San Francisco. 

“I may not be your father…but I will be your guardian, now that he’s gone. This man is not your legal husband.”

You shake your head, even as your heart falls to your feet. More Old World nonsense. Yet it matters here…because he says so. That is the true measure of power. 

“Of course he is.” 

“Oh no. I’ve had it looked into. May I introduce Mr. Smith of the highly reliable Pinkerton Detective Agency. He has found zero record of your legal union anywhere in California.” You shift your glare to the man in the suit. 

“Good for him.” 

“Prove us wrong? Where’s your certificate?” 

“I don’t have it with me.” 

Because it doesn’t exist…

 Juan smirks, that low-banked fire in his eyes you remember all too well from when he knew he was winning an argument. That familiar rage fills you, that this man thinks he has any right to tell you anything, just because he is Man. 

“This is ridiculous. We’re going.” You take Paul’s arm to lead him away, but more of Juan’s men block your exit. Eyes wide with panic, you look to your sisters. Anjélica is shocked, and Josefa’s jaw is set with disapproval. By the steely expressions on their husband’s faces, you know they are Juan’s men, no matter how much they came to like Paul. In the conservative, patriarchal world of Las Nubes, you have committed a terrible sin. Perhaps even an unforgivable one. 

Juan’s smirk only widens, and he holds his hand out to you. “Be a good girl for once and come quietly, y/n. We’re going home.”

This is when Paul steps in front of you. “She’s not going anywhere with you.” 

“Stay out of it, gringo. You have no standing here, and none of this concerns you.” 

“I’m not letting you take her.” 

Don Juan makes a sound through his teeth like the hissing of a snake. “You don’t have a choice, cabrón.”

That is when all Hell breaks loose. 

You don’t really see who throws the first punch, but suddenly the two men are on each other like mad dogs in a furious exchange of blows. When Juan’s lackeys try to go to his aid you are quick to pick up the heavy ceramic water pitcher on the table, breaking it over one of their heads. A strong arm grabs you around your waist, trying to drag you off. You flail and screech and scratch and bite, until whoever has you drops you with a string of curses.

You see that Paul is straddling Juan on the ground, delivering punch after punch. 

That is when the Sheriff himself arrives, flanked by two deputies. They drag Paul off of Juan, the latter of whom is laughing with blood in his teeth. 

You realize he must have arranged all this ahead of time, paying off anyone he needed to, to be sure his will was done.  

“Lock this madman up!” declares don Juan, spitting out blood. “He attacked me with no provocation! These soldiers are like wild animals, thinking they may do as they please!” 

In the end it takes four men to subdue Paul, who fights like a trapped bear to get free, shaking off one of the deputies as he tries to put the soldier in handcuffs. “Y/n! Get off me! Don’t let him take her! Y/n!”

You try to go to him, but Juan’s biggest minion has you in his grasp again, your arms twisted behind your back. 

“Señor!” you beg the sheriff, even as you know it’s futile. “He has done nothing wrong! Please don’t hurt him!” The moment you say it one of the deputies hits Paul hard in the temple, and you see him slump in their grasp. “No!” You are crying, angry, ugly tears streaming down your face. “No, this isn’t right!” 

Smirking like the devil, Juan gets to his feet, making a show of brushing himself off before fixing his attention on you. He steps in close, speaking just for your ears. “Behave yourself, and he’ll just sit in a cell for a few days to cool off. Make trouble…and I’ll make certain they hurt him.” 

You slump in Borrachio’s iron grasp, your knees going out from under you. 

You look to your family, who have watched this exchange wide-eyed, but made no move to help you. You understand. Their homes, their whole lives, take place on don Juan’s land. He is their master. You are just inconvenient–and you always have been. 

“Please don’t hurt him.” You sound as defeated as you feel, and Juan clicks his tongue, chucking you under the chin. 

“Pobrecita. That’s up to you, now.” He wipes a bit of blood from his split lip, then turns to his minions. “Put her in the truck,” he instructs Borrachio. “I’ll be there shortly.” You behave yourself, until Borrachio gives you an opportunity while he is opening the truck with one hand. You nearly twist away, fighting again like a hellcat. Losing patience with you, the big man cuffs you across the face, hard. It knocks the lights out of you, and when you come to again you are trussed in the back with your hands tied and a gag in your mouth.

________

*muñequita - little doll **¿Perdón? - pardon? *** pobrecita - poor little girl

[4am-enha]

pouring.

description/tags: heavily inspired by a scene from the kdrama “something in the rain” on netflix. reader is basically a coffee addict who meets someone new in the cafe on their break, but there’s a rainstorm outside. heavy on acts of service jay in this, cheesy romantically suggested gestures, rain, umbrellas, proximity, catching feelings, old fashion love.

genre: fluffy, fluff, & more fluff!

pairing: jay x reader (y/n), gender neutral reader.

warnings: none that i am aware of :P

wc≈ 2.3k, one shot format

preview: “The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.”

You were on a no-caffeine streak for a while now. Almost a week. Maybe it wasn’t really that impressive, but a week of no coffee for you was never heard of before. You were actually really proud of it and began bragging to people how you hadn’t touched a drop of caffeine, and how you intended not to touch any for at least a month.

But that all came crumbling down today. You were so sluggish, it was actual torture to not drink any coffee this morning. What really did not help were the strangely dark clouds outside and the type of air that just fills you with grogginess for the whole day. Winter was approaching pretty fast this year, so that would explain this type of weather. These days, it felt like it was dark when you left for work, and dark when you returned home.

All your progress, ruined, before it had even really gotten somewhere just for one cup of your favourite pick-me-up drink this morning. Was it really worth it?

Absolutely.

To be completely honest, you did hesitate for a moment about it outside the door of your favourite regular cafe, but as soon as that beautiful smell of coffee beans hit your nose, and the warm embrace of the cozy cafe ambiance with just one-half step inside of the building hugged you- you were completely convinced it was all going to be more than just a little worth it. You actually physically felt yourself hold back an urge to skip inside with excitement.

“Please hold it for me!” A man's voice urged from behind you. Of course, you held it for him. He was quite tall and looked very neat and put together. Well, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes and the messy bundle of things in his arms.

“Thank you! I’m sorry, my bag has just come loose and I'm trying to hold all the stuff in,” he laughed nervously as he walked past you into the cafe.

“No problem,” you laughed lightly back.

You approached the pale, slender cashier who immediately recognized you, “Y/n? It’s been a while. Where have you been?”

“It’s only been a week, Sunghoon, don’t be dramatic,” you joked.

“Well, what can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes please!” You beamed.

He smiled, “Alright! Cash or card?”

You pulled out your card and handed it to the barista, zoning into empty space as you waited for the payment to go through.

“Oh, do you have another card? This one declined.”

“Oh my gosh, what?” You took the card back from him, realising you had brought an expired card with you. You were so tired this morning, you didn’t check what you had picked up before you left for your break. You felt around your pockets for a minute, but deep down you hopelessly knew you had left all other cards and cash in your bag which was sitting pretty under your work desk.

By now, there were a few customers behind you. You didn’t want to make things complicated.

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel my order-“

“Allow me,” the guy you had held the door for earlier came forward from behind you in the line and tapped his card against the machine.

“Oh my goodness, no! Please cancel that!” You panicked and yelled at Sunghoon, the barista.

“Wait, don't! Please, let me pay for it. It’s nothing, really!” The generous guy joined in with a panicked response.

“But-“

“Okay not trying to be rude here guys, but can you decide. Please?” Sunghoon pleaded. He was not paid well enough for this and other customers were already mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves in line.

You looked at the stranger with an apologetic face, but he only continued to reassure you that it was okay. He really insisted on paying. You nodded at Sunghoon in approval of not cancelling the payment after all.

Sunghoon then continued to take the man's order, leaving you and the stranger standing awkwardly beside each other waiting for the drinks to be made.

“You really didn’t have to do that you know,” you began, breaking the silence.

“I wanted to,” he smiled and paused for a moment, “what’s your name by the way? I don’t believe I have ever seen you around here before.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise. I’m always out and about, and as for this cafe I’m kind of a regular,” you smiled.

He hummed in understanding, “I could guess by the way the barista seemed to know you.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it's a little obvious.”

“And your name?”

“Oh sorry, it’s y/n. How about you?”

“You can call me Jay.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jay.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, y/n,” he held out his hand for a handshake, but you misunderstood and gave him a high-five instead. It took him by surprise, but he laughed it off.

“Oh I'm so sorry I thought you were asking for-“

Jay interrupted you by suddenly shifting his hand to complete your high-five, “No need to be embarrassed, I’ll take a high-five too.”

You laughed about it together and then began some more small talk for a few remaining minutes discussing the usually boringly common topics like work, and how long you’ve lived here, except you actually enjoyed it more than you expected to. You were glad that you had made the choice to ruin your caffeine-sober streak today. Meeting new people was refreshing.

But since your job practically required you to talk to new people every day, and this was something you did daily- maybe it was just Jay that was refreshing. He was actually very intriguing, and not just because he was admittedly pretty to look at. You couldn’t really put it into the right words, but something about the way he talked and used so many unique minor expressions really caught your attention. He was so polite too. Attentive. Thoughtful. A nice outcast from the stereotypical modern type of men you were used to seeing everywhere these days.

Either way, this random interchange completely altered your day into something ten times better than it had originally been.

Coincidentally, your drinks were ready and called at the same time. Jay carefully passed you your drink while picking up his own, being cautious to not accidentally burn you with the hot cup. You thanked him once more and both headed out toward the door. Jay held it for you this time, arguing that it was only equal for him to do so since you had held the door for him on the way in.

Your smile quickly faded as you noticed the heavy rain that had begun a little while ago pouring down in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it right away because of the cafe marquee that slightly protected the street and kept the outer entrance dry. You sighed, staring in disbelief that you were going to have to spend the rest of work today in soaked clothes.

“Something wrong?” Jay questioned upon seeing your face flush with worry.

He made you jump a little because you had sort of expected him to be gone by now. You thought he had left immediately when you had exchanged some final thank yous and goodbyes at the door on the way out. When actually, he had stuck around for a minute to see you off.

“Oh no, it’s just that I have to walk in this horrible weather,” you replied defeatedly.

Jay thought for a moment, “wait here.”

You widen your eyes in confusion and surprise as you watch Jay run straight into the rain, completely soaking himself and his coffee within seconds only to disappear around the corner for a few minutes.

You kept checking your phone for the time, wondering if he was even going to come back or if you should just leave. You didn’t even know what he was doing or why he had asked you to wait here.

Meanwhile, Jay was rushing around the local mini-store for umbrellas. Finally, when he found them he picked up the closest two. One for you, and one for him. But then, he looked at the pair of them and put one back with a cheesy smile that showed that he had some sort of motive behind the peculiar decision.

Eventually, Jay returned, walking toward you in the rain, holding a single closed umbrella with floppy drenched hair, clothes tightly stuck to him, and a bright smile. It made your cheeks feel warm as you smiled shyly back.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “you’re ridiculous and insane. You went into the rain to fetch an umbrella?”

“It would appear I did,” he laughed lightly too, handing you the umbrella.

“Why did you only get one? You should take this,” you tried to hand it back to him but he refused and pushed it away with a frown and disapproving shake of his head.

You tried again, “Please, you’ve already done a lot for me this morning. It’s not that bad, I can dry off at work.”

“Let’s share it then,” he suggested, taking the umbrella and holding it up for the both of you, “you said earlier that your workplace was the same way as mine anyway.”

“Oh, well alright then,” you felt yourself blush involuntarily as you began walking very closely, side by side together.

At first, it was awkward and a little uncomfortable, but that feeling didn’t stick around for long. Jay made conversation here and there, making it easy to follow along and it made you feel more confident about being almost attached by the hip to someone you met under an hour ago. Sometimes it would fall silent, but it was a comfortable silence. You would both drift off into your own thoughts for a minute or two.

You had no idea what Jay was thinking about, but you wondered if maybe he was thinking similar things to you. Maybe the situation just wasn’t awkward at all to him, and you were just overthinking it. You couldn't help but be curious about what he thought of you. Hopefully, you made a good impression, and hopefully, he was as comfortable as you were right now.

It was just now that you were noticing how good he smelled for the first time. He smelt as clean and fresh as he looked. His cologne was potent through his wet shirt.

He smelled expensive.

You also noted how tall he was beside you. After some sneaky glances here and there, you saw how sharp his jawline really was. It was as unreal as it had looked from a distance.

When you went to glance over at him again, he caught you. Instantaneously, your eyes snapped forward to avoid it, but he was already softly chuckling upon catching you staring.

“If you have questions, you can ask them, you know,” he laughed.

You laughed in embarrassment, nodding.

Jay began to elaborate, “It's just because you were looking-“

“I thought I saw a bug,” you lied with rosy cheeks.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“No really, I’m telling the truth!”

“Okay, I’ll believe you,” he smiled, seeing right through your attempt to cover up your obvious stares.

The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.

As if you were an open book and Jay was reading your mind, he looked over to you.

“You keep drifting out from under the umbrella. Isn’t your shoulder getting wet?”

“A little but it's fine,” you shrugged.

“Come closer, I won't hurt you” he went to put his arm around you to pull you in but he hesitated, “may I?”

You could swear that your face was painted red with blush now, but you nodded anyway and let it happen. He was ever so gentle, making sure he wasn’t pushing it too far. Keeping his arm around you but loosely just in case you might change your mind.

You continued to walk like that together with uncontrollable smiles plastered on each of your faces until you reached the outside of your work building. It was such a peaceful moment that you would surely hold onto it for a very long time after the fact. It had been a while since you felt this rush of emotion that you were so sure had left you years ago.

The rain had cleared up now, spitting slightly still, but nothing compared to what it had been. Jay walked you up to where it was sheltered so that you wouldn’t have to get a single drop of rain on you. You felt bad that he was still very much soaked, while you looked as if you hadn’t been outside at all today.

“Thank you, again, Jay,” you stood in front of him.

“No, thank you, y/n.”

You fiddled with your hands a little, looking down, “perhaps, could I take your number so that I can pay you back later?”

Jay chuckled, “You can have my number, but you’re not paying me back.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, handing him your phone anyway to type in his number.

You then both briefly waved goodbye and you began walking into your building, hiding a giddy smile.

“Y/N!”

You turned quickly to the sound of Jay yelling your name and ran back towards him.

He held out the umbrella to you, “Take this. It’s yours now.”

Without argument, you took the umbrella and waved goodbye once more. You didn’t turn back this time, but you could feel Jay’s eyes on you- watching to make sure you got in with no problems before walking away himself.

Later on, you found yourself staring at the brightly coloured umbrella leaning against your work desk.

You drifted into the thought of the umbrella and a certain guy, with a smile lingering on your lips.

note: as always, any feedback/notes are appreciated~!thank you so much for reading!! i hope you have an amazing day/night ^^ finally, i got another singular member one shot out. i kinda liked this one. let me know what you guys thought of it. also, don’t forget to tune into orange blood nov 17th! WHOS EXCITED (I AM).

[buckychristwrites]

This Night | OS | r.k.

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: It's a beautiful day for a youth football match, where you are the brand new coach. And what better way to start it than meet the infamous uncle of one of your players?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: It's just fluff, lads. Roy Kent with a toddler. Reader is a mom

A/N: Took a break from Could This Be to write this. First time writing for Roy as the main! I hope you all enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Main Blog

“Alright, first match as a coach.”

You stared in the mirror, adjusting your cap for a second time. The nerves were eating you alive, and you had to pretend you weren’t completely nauseous, due to the fact that if you focused on it too much, you would, indeed, throw up.

“You can do this!” You told your reflection, pulling at the hem of your jacket. This had been how the last ten minutes had gone; mantras and adjusting your clothing. At this rate, you were never going to leave the house, let alone coach the game.

A tiny figure appeared in the mirror behind you, running up and pressing her tiny, pudgy fingers into the glass. 

“You got this!” She squealed, throwing her head back to look at you before giving you a wide smile. It was hard to argue with that face, and hard to resist smiling back. Putting your hands under the toddler’s armpits, you hoisted her up at top speed, met with a loud giggle.

“Alright Eebee,” You told her. “Let’s get going.” 

The walk to the pitch was a short one, luckily, as you had not one but two people who you had to ensure the arrival of. Evie was sat in the pram, facing forwards, with a small assortment of snacks to keep her occupied. She was making her little sounds, as she always did, and every time, it made you wonder what went on in her head. She was old enough to speak, but not enough to where she was completely understandable, at her crisp 2 years of age.

The sun was out in full swing, not a cloud in the sky, the perfect evening for a game of footie, and the pitch itself was in pristine condition when you arrived. The balls were left out in a box for you, as they usually were. Stopping at the edge of the field, you released Evie and let her run around the pitch while you watched. The hope was that she would tire herself out enough that she’ll nap during the match. You weren’t too confident in the plan, as she rarely followed the script you made in your head, but it didn’t hurt to try.

As players and their parents began to arrive, you were sitting in the grass, watching Evie kick the ball around the field. 

“Hello, Evie!”

A flash of blonde ran past you and onto the pitch. When the toddler noticed her friend arriving, she squealed with joy before running as fast as she could to hug Phoebe. Standing up, you watched the two of them. 

“God, seeing them together makes me want to have another,” Rachel said as she appeared in your peripheral. You smiled at her before turning back towards the two. Phoebe was holding Evie’s hand, bringing it up in the air and waving, but not at you or Rachel.

“Uncle Roy! This is Evie!” 

Turning, you saw a tall, muscular man in a black t-shirt and jeans. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the only response he gave to his niece was a curt nod. It didn’t appear to bother her, as a bright smile filled her cheeks before she turned back to your daughter.

“So I finally get to put a face to the infamous Uncle Roy,” You remarked, glancing back at Rachel before your gaze found him again. You didn’t realize how long you had been staring until he met your eye, the look of disdain never faltering. Jumping in surprise, you immediately turned forward again. 

“You don’t know him?” Rachel asked, sounding surprised. You looked at her, fighting the urge to sneak another glance at him.

“Should I?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Phoebe yelling, “Headers, Uncle Roy!” The other kids had started arriving at this point, and when they realized what she was saying, they all ran to line up behind her. Roy looked mildly inconvenienced by the question, but still stepped onto the forward and grabbed one of the balls. 

“Alright, one at a time,” He said. It was so uniform, every child going one at a time without fighting, that you wondered how many times he did this with them. 

“They seem to really love him,” You remarked to Rachel. She nodded. 

“They all idolize him,” She said. “Especially Phoebe. Just can’t get enough of her Uncle Roy.”

“Oh I know,” You said with a laugh. “Can’t get through a single practice without her bringing him up at least once.” A beat passed. “It’s not as nice when she says she misses him being her coach though.” Rachel scrunched up her nose, her expression screaming with embarrassment.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” She said quietly. “She just loves him so much.”

It wasn’t hard to see why. He was so gentle with the kids as he threw the ball for each of them them, giving them a fatherly compliment with every single hit.

“Beautiful.”

“Lovely.”

“Great job.”

“I love that!” 

He didn’t come off as a person who smiled often, making you feel like you were seeing some rarity in the wild as he laughed with the children. It almost felt invasive. A big secret that you were now in on. 

The beating in your chest seized when Evie appeared at the front of the line, begging for her turn. Slowly, Roy kneeled down to her level.

“Alright, love,” He said gently. “Can you take a few steps forward?” She obliged, skipping a few steps until Roy beckoned for her to stop. She was bouncing up and down, waiting excitedly to have her turn, just like the big kids. He counted 1, 2, 3, before softly tossing the ball against her head. When it bounced off, she looked surprised for a brief moment before letting out a loud squeal. She ran up to Roy and threw her arms around his neck. He froze for only a second before wrapping his arms around her. 

Your heart soared.

Roy approached you and his sister, Evie hanging off his neck like a monkey, and his one hand supporting her bum. Both of them looked completely nonchalant at this, as if it had been occurring forever. 

“Does this belong to you?” His voice was raspy and low, and you wondered if it hurt his throat to talk like that all the time. Raising your hands, you reached out to the toddler, who, quite unusually, wrapped her arms tighter around the stranger.

“She does,” You said, your eyebrows knitting together. “Although, she seems quite fond of you.” 

“Yeah,” He said. “Fuckin’ annoyin’, innit?”

At first, you were taken aback by his comment. But then, you saw it. The flash of humor in his eyes, and you realized that he was making a joke. A smile crossed your cheeks, and you were surprised when his mirrored yours.

“This is my brother, Roy Kent,” Rachel said, before adding “Don’t worry. He is the complete arsehole you think he is.” As she was introducing you to him, you found that you were asking yourself just one question: Do I think he’s a complete arsehole, though? 

“Fuck you,” He said sharply, voice loud. A few parents glanced over, but none of them dared to say anything. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” You said simply, watching as Evie swung her legs up and was now sitting on his shoulders like he was a climbing frame. You brought a hand to your forehead in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about her. She hasn’t learned her manners just yet, has she?” Your daughter gave you a mischievous look, as if she understood what you were saying. 

He waved you off. “She’s fine. No trouble at all.” Giving him another look, you turned to Rachel.

“I was actually going to ask if you wouldn’t mind watching her during the game?” You smiled hopefully. “I couldn’t get a babysitter and… well…” Rachel stopped you with a hand to your forearm.

“Roy and I will take good care of her, won’t we, Roy?” She nudged her brother, giving him a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. He cleared his throat before. nodding.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said. “If she dies in my care, though, it’s your fault. Since I’m a stranger and all.” You playfully wrinkled your nose. 

“Then I’d be forced to kill you.”

“And how would you do that?”

You leaned forward before whispering, “With my bare hands.” 

He stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your ability to do that, when a few of the boys ran by, screaming, “Roy Kent! Roy Kent! He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fuckin’-where!” 

“Oi!” You shouted at them. “No cussing!” You eyed Roy, who’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “What was that?” He gave a look to his sister before looking back at you.

“You…you don’t know?” 

“Is there a reason I should already know you?” You asked, a little more demanding than when you had asked Rachel previously. “Unless you mean… I do know you’re Phoebe’s uncle, she talks about you all the time.” 

He was looking at you, but in a way that was making you uncomfortable. It was like he had been enlightened to you somehow, like he was seeing you for the first time. The referee blew his whistle, making both of you turn away.

“You ready, Coach?”

“Yes,” Came out of your mouth, but it also came out of Roy’s. When you and the referee looked at him, he blanched. 

“A bit below your pay grade, ain’t it, Coach?” The referee said, patting Roy’s arm before walking away. Roy appeared annoyed by this comment, but said nothing to confirm that.

You wanted to question it further, but Roy was faster as he nodded towards the pitch. 

“Get goin’, Coach,” He said, taking Evie’s hands in his and having her wave at you as he slowly backed away. She giggled the whole time.  

Watching a bunch of 8 year olds play football isn’t as exciting as one may think it is, but you were thankful that the halves were only 20 minutes each as opposed to the professional length of 45 minutes. Though you tried hard not to, you often found yourself looking behind you to see what Evie was up to. More often than not, she was with Roy, either being chased around by him, chasing him as he kicked around one of the spare balls, or actually watching the match while on his shoulders. Throughout the first half of the match, she was constantly heard laughing. 

It was weird, seeing Evie so comfortable with a person who wasn’t you. After all, it has just been you and her for the last just over two years, and you had certainly never brought her around any men. And yet here she was, treating this man as if they'd known each other her whole life. 

At the end of the first half, the score was 2-2, and your players were tired.

“You guys are playing so well,” You told them, applauding as they crowded around you. “Whatever happens, you all did amazing things on this pitch today.” Without looking over, you straightened up. “Coach Roy!” When you did turn. he was eyeing you curiously, forgetting to kick the ball from Evie so she couldn’t take it from him, which she quickly did. “Any words for these players?” 

He approached, stopping right next to you with his arms crossed over his chest. A firm, hard look was passed across the players.

“Fuckin’ kill them.”

All of the kids screamed their heads off in agreement before running back onto the field. You looked at Roy in shock.

“You can’t say that!” You exclaimed. He shrugged.

“You asked.” You still had the same stunned expression when you watched him turn and scoop Evie up in his arms, her laugh echoing through the whole field. 

His words of wisdom worked, for by the time the game ended, your team had won 7-2. And it only resulted in one bloody nose and two yellow cards (You talked the referee out of the red card for the bloody nose). You gathered the balls and put them in the box, leaving them out for the next set of teams who were due to play in an hour.

“Good game, guys,” You told your players. “Monica’s mum has snacks for everyone. You’ve all earned it.” Raising your hand up, all the players smacked your palm as hard as they could. The only exception being Phoebe, who instead tapped your hand with her forehead. When you gave her a questioning look, she smiled at you.

“Uncle Roy’s best friend taught me that,” She informed you before skipping off to her mum. You decided not to question it.

“See you guys for practice,” You called to Rachel and Phoebe, who both gave you a wave before walking off. It took you a moment to realize that Roy was not with them, meaning neither was Evie. You began to spin around in search of them, and were relieved when you saw him on the other side of the pitch, your toddler curled up in his arms. Her head laid on his shoulder, his hand running up and down her back in comfort. For someone who, you assumed, didn’t have children of his own, he sure handled them incredibly well. 

It was very attractive, not that you’d ever admit that to him.

“How long has she been asleep?” You called to him as he made his way to you. He lifted his free arm in a shrug.

“‘Bout a minute into the second half.”

Shaking your head, you put your hands on your hips while staring at the sleeping baby. 

“Thank you for watching her,” You said. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine,” He said. “Definitely more fun than watchin’ the match. Fuckin’ painful.” He pointed at Evie. “She’s gonna be a football star. Best player here today. Don’t tell Phoebe.” Laughing, you grabbed the pram and pulled it over. Though you offered to take her from him, he shook his head before carefully placing her in himself. Watching him be so tender with her made you feel some type of way. When he straightened up again, you looked down at the ground before looking back at him. His eyes never left you.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Roy Kent,” You said. He tilted his head slightly. 

“You too.” 

“Come on, Uncle Roy!” Phoebe yelled from the car park, Rachel grabbing her and smiling apologetically as she dragged her towards the car. 

You bit back a smile as he mumbled, “Fuckin’ prick.” 

“See you around?” You asked him, curling your fingers around the handles of the pram. He looked down at the toddler, then back at you before nodding.

“Yeah,” He said quietly. “You will.”

And as you walked away, the breeze hitting your cheeks in just the right way, as they were burning deeply, you found yourself hoping that you would. 

~

TAGS

@buckybarnex, @ricciardhoe3

[bonezone44]

linecook!Ezra ficlet (18+)

Linecook!Ezra x afab!Reader

word count: 873.

Tags: no smut. Just some good ol’ fashioned Waffle House dirty talk. Implied oral (f), implied past somno fingering, implied past p-in-v.

a/n: I've got 1000 other fics I should be writing but then this came out and I know it ends abruptly, but I'm trying to get my brain going.

+++++

Ezra, sitting on an overturned bucket in the back of the Waffle House, spits wisdom to his young cohorts on his cigarette break. They gather around him with eager eyes and hopeful smiles while he shares tales of the beforetimes (before the current manager was hired). He feels like the village elder, continuing an oral tradition that began long before the Waffle House existed. Back when it was a plot of land on the side of the highway that the local farmers would use to set up their vegetable stands every day.

When his tale is done, so is his cigarette. He snubs it out on the wall behind him and tosses the butt in an ever-present, faded, empty can of Barq’s root beer.

"You want another one?" asks one of the new waitresses, holding out a pack of Marlboro 100s that seemed to materialize from thin air with how swiftly she acquired it from her purse. Her fingernails are chewed down to the bone. She's nineteen years old and keen for Ezra's attention and approval.

She’s cute, he thinks. But he knows she’s too young and inexperienced for a man with his tastes. He wasn’t nearly as patient and accommodating as he had been in previous years. And none of those passing thoughts matter much anyhow since he has you.

He smiles, though, and continues to be polite. "I appreciate the offer, but I find myself satisfied with that particular poison for today." He pulls out a small joint of marijuana from his pocket. "On to the next one," he drawls with a smirk and the group laughs. They watch quietly as he lights it up with a flick of his BIC and takes a long, deep inhale. He holds it for as long as his aging lungs can muster and releases it above him in a thick cloud of smoke.

Then the back door flies open and you poke your head out.

You scoff at the sight. "Ezra! What are you doin back here? I need you on the grill!" You wave your hand, swatting the weed smoke away.

"I am holding court with my brethren," he turns to you and answers coolly.

"You're not gettin paid to hold court!" you yell. "I got hungry people in here!"

"Alright, alright." He licks his finger and thumb and pinches out the cherry of his joint. He looks to his audience. "Duty calls," he says with a smile and stands up. He lazily makes his way inside while you stand there and hold the door open for him.

—

You look out at the group. "What are y'all doin here? Y'all don't even work today!"

They offer their excuses, but you don't care to hear. You shoo them off and tell them to go home.

Back inside, Ezra's washing his hands at the sink. You two are hidden from view.

"I got people starin at me wonderin when their food's gonna get started!" you grouse.

"And they will be fed shortly," Ezra responds casually–as if he has all the goddamn time in the world. He dries his hands with a few paper towels and tosses them in the trash.

Your shoulders fall. "I'm exhausted, Ezra," you whine, begging for sympathy. "My feet hurt. I smell like shit. I don't wanna deal with these people anymore."

"C'mere, starlette." He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you close. His other hand slaps your asscheek, hard. You gasp and jump and it brings your bodies closer. He looks at you adoringly. "Your shift is nearly done and when my relief arrives--" He slides one hand down the center of your ass. "--I will hurry myself to your place of residence post-haste--" His fingers press against your most sensitive area through the thin, polyester fabric of your work pants. You whimper. "--and devour your sex until I am smothered and covered in your juices.”

You close your eyes and fight back a smile. Ezra is the only man you’ve been with to make good on his promises–well, when it came to sex, at least. “I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get there.” 

“That’s never stopped me before,” he murmurs to you with hazy eyes.

You feel something hard press against you. Your whole body warms to the memory of waking up with Ezra heavy on top of you, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. You melt against him like a slice of cheese. “Shit, Ezra,” you sigh. You wanna pull him into the manager’s office again like you did on your third shift. Leaned over the desk with your pants pulled just below your ass and Ezra’s apron tossed over his shoulder. You were tossing your ass back just as hard as he was slamming his hips. Never even got caught.

“Anybody workin here?!” a voice bellows from the dining room.

You immediately pull back from Ezra, though he is loath to let you go.

“I’m coming!” you shout.

“Yes, you will be,” mutters Ezra.

You grab a stray rag from the counter and toss it in his face with a frustrated huff. You straighten your clothes and rush to the front, doing your best to make peace with the upset guest.

+++++

[thoughtsandbones]

"Imagine they're just about freezing right now..."

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc

Song inspo: C*cks*cker - Tyler Bates and All These Things That've Done - The Killers

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline...

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

(FYI: bold sentences... are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] ..

MASTERLIST

Part 2

When the door clicked shut and knew that he had walked away and free from his prying eyes you could relax.

You could relax.

But you don't... You cannot. The fact this masked man knew your name. Not the name you tell people, not the name you've used since were a teenager. He knew your birth name...

Enough mind games. You observe the infirmary. It was bleak. Bare to the bones. Just one old, very old bed. Empty cabinets. An old desk with an even older chair.

"Great" You mutter. You sit yourself on the floor crossed legged. Taking the weight off the aching feet. Closing your eyes and breathing in and out for four each time.

Tilting your head back and placing your hands behind you. Embracing the calm before the storm. Taking out your phone scroll through and removes your AirPods from their pocket, you plug in try to lose yourself

Edge Hill - Groove Armada plays

<CUE FLASHBACK> Siberia, Russia, October 12 2010 Day 3- Never again will I complain about the cold when back home. You think. As you breathe out, the misty cloud escaping your mouth becomes lost in the Russian atmosphere. You and your Captain are crouched on the edge of a mountain, deep in Russian territory, you taking a swig of water from your flask whilst the Captain smokes his fifth cigarette of the day. "Break's over Blue." said the Captain, hoarsely in his thick Glaswegian accent. "Copy Cap" You reply You get up slowly, assess your surroundings. The new blue and white camo sniper rifle dangling near you on your left. To your right is your Captain, frost and ice covered his beard, mouth taking one last drag of a cigarette before tossing it into the space below. The both of you slowly shimmy your way off the edge and start climbing the side of the mountain with your ice axes and snow grip shoes. One wrong move or if the ice breaks - you're dead. Looking above and see the Captain has nearly disappeared, the snow and wind has mostly covered him, but you can hear the noise of his axe and grips as they slice into the ice beneath him. You follow through, carefully and slowly. "Still with me Blue?" Captain asks over the radio "Yes sir, just on your six" You reply back

You've nearly made it to the top until a Russian jet soars way above making you slip when the ice gives on your left foot, the ice and rock crumble from the jets low swing by. The ice axe breaks off from where you firmly picked it in, causing you to slip further. "BLUE!" Captain yells over the radio Looking above you see the shadow of a man peering down at you. Your body slides against the ice, you struggle to gain grip with your shoes whilst trying to pick back in the ice with your axe. Finally, the axe sticks and your find your footing and resume the journey back to the top. the seconds count

"Blue, do you copy!?" "Yes sir, I copy" You panted "Think the Russians are onto us eh Cap? You add squeezing out a laugh A slight chuckle mixed with relief is heard on the radio "No, think they're out testing their new toys" He says gazing at the skies, on the lookout for more jets "Keeps them distracted from us then" You say smirkingly You hear the Captain give out a sign of agreement "Those bastards won't even know what'll hit 'em" the Captain rejoices

The door of the infirmary opened wide and abruptly.

Captain Price walked in and saw you laying on the ground eyes closed shut. Headphones in.

Not aware of your surroundings.

He goes over to you, standing about an inch away from your head casting a shadow over.

You could sense the shadow, even with your eyes closed, eyes wide open, you swiftly swing round and get up. Taking your AirPods out and tucking your phone away in your back pocket.

"My apologies sir" You blurt out

"Corporal" He sighs, head shaking as he looks down and then around the infirmary "Listen.." he starts staring at you with eyes mixed with pity and sadness

Here we go. You brace yourself

"You've had shit month, and I mean shit show of a a couple of months" he continues, his hands placed onto his hips as he walks to the left of you, gazing at the sky through the murky window, one that had turned orange and pink. A beautiful sunset indeed.

"I haven't told anyone about your time here over decade ago. Christ, it's weird seeing you kids grow older" He says looking over at you. You give a weak forced smile.

"Your history is yours to tell." Prices continues "But Ghost knows your name, but he's assured me that he won't tell anyone" Prices says now staring back out into the window.

"How did he know in the first place" you interject

"That's classified" Price quirks back

You run your tongue against your teeth making a sucking sound as you inhale as well.

Classified. Of course.

"Listen, I just received word that your licence has not been revoked and you are still a doctor" Price chuffs "Leavin' the good news till the end of course" he said giving another chuckle

Those words envelope you like the warmth of a sun beam. You are still a doctor. The past several years have not gone to waste. You are still able to practise medicine (do a surgery maybe...) and not have to bow down some old male military doctor who butcherly puts the soldiers together. With glue... flesh and infected... gross

"I've go' your room key" that familiar coarse voice sounded from the left of you

The Ghost. There he was again. Standing in the doorway, staring at you again

"Ah Ghost" Price exclaimed, "Perfect timing" he added whilst moving away from the window and into the

You couldn't help notice a glance Ghost gave at Price and then a smug look back at you (even though you could only see his eyes, you could tell how they show more expression than any other part of the face...)

He walks towards, his tall stature making the room feel smaller. You instinctively straighten up. Planted your feet on the ground. Anchoring.

Showing him, and of course Price, that you mean business. It's time to reignite the person you were all those years ago.

They didn't call you Blue for nothing... ;)

He holds out his left hand, a brass key attached to navy tag with the embossed gold cross partially worn off. You hold out your right hand to receive the key.

"Doctor's quarters" he says leaning in towards you, placing the keys against your palm, his gloved hand lingering for far too long on yours - ungloved.

Of course he would've been eavesdropping when Price was talking to you.

You return a mischievous stare at him, pursing your lips as you take in this unknown person. Who are you behind that skull. Both the mask and the bone.

You take the keys and grab your pack and duffle.

"Thank you all, I shall be turning in. It's been a long day" You say, hoping they will be your final words for the day. You move past Ghost, who shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

You say your final goodbyes and make your way to ~your quarters~.

When you open the door you notice the room is a lot nicer and more orderly. The boots are swiftly taken off, and placed on the floor on the end of the bed.

You notice fresh warm towels on the edge of the bed. You quickly glance to another door in the room and rush towards it.

The ensuite bathroom is a glorious sight to see even though it was minimal, it beat the communal shower blocks a millions times over.

No communal showers ever

Reaching for the pin that held together your hair, you tug at it and the bun unravels into a slick braid held at the end by a tiny clear elastic band. Taking the braid a part, running your nails into the scalp for slight massage and to stimulate the follicles. The pin and the elastic placed on the bedside table.

After a quick unpack and a lovely shower, you change into your oversized t-shirt, walking back to the room, you see through the window the sky now dark, and as your eyes focus, you can see a star or two up in the night sky.

You pull the blinds close and sink yourself down in the bed. It wasn't much. Your feet sore and throbbing after a few weeks of getting back into shape and breaking in new boots is always a right of passage...

Back with the 141 eh. Well, their doctor. But you knew the challenges they face daily and they'll need the help.

Price was right, last few months were a shit show. Your career and livelihood hanging on a thread. But that is all over now. You can focus on this new path.

This was all that you needed. You are always grateful that your feet aren't freezing like they were back in the mountains of Siberia.

[tagedeszorns]

What's boring you about the fandom? Sorry to hear you're struggling with that at the moment.

Just wanted to say though, it is normal to go through stages of fixation and ambivalence, especially if it feels like you might have plumbed the most exciting depths of your preferred niche. (I have felt like that so many times in other fandoms lol...) Maybe it's worth exploring other parts of the fandom, you might find something that ignites your passion again. Alternatively, if you need a break or feel the need to branch out, do it. The fandom will still be here when you feel like engaging again.

(Also, if you feel like it sometime, please tell us more about your minis and joytoy figs. Are they named? Do they have backstories?)

I'm not bored. I'm just having a severe "old man yells at cloud"-moment, like I do semi-regularly. 😉

When I came to the Tumblr-branch of Warhammer-fandom it felt so very exciting - artists and writers regularly got 80 to over 100 notes in a few days on their texts and pics (not just memes and/or shitposts, mind you! The real stuff!) - and not just likes, a lot of reblogs, comments and so much discussion! So many HC were developed here for everybody to see and to participate.

But this all changed. No fire nation, though.

I'm getting a bit tired of saying it over and over myself, but in my opinion it still is true: Discord is slowly killing fandom-permanence. Discord isn't good for conserving things. Ideas vanish. Pics get consumed like fast food and digested just as fast, leaving no nutritional value for viewer or artist. Thoughts get lost, because they wander down the chat-drain and vanish into nothing. HCs get no engagement, fade and die.

The slow, ugly decay of Twitter didn't help. A lot of new people not getting how Tumblr is supposed to be played and take the easy way out to Discord, too.

A Tumblr-blog is a very intimate showcase of a person's journey as a fan. It's like a geological slice of their interests and thoughts. I love that. I want to keep that. I want to get to know other fans. And not the shallow, fleeting way of Discord.

Yeah, as I said - old man yells at totally uncaring cloud. I can't stop time. I have to adapt or remain behind.

And the other thing is my "ceterum censeo" of being bitter about people just paying attention to Primarch-content and don't care about the guys from second row who are in my opinion so much more interesting and colourful. And if they get the spotlight it's just some meme-shit or being waifu'd to hell and back.

I love being silly about characters I like. I love making up shitty sidestories, silly AUs and other absolutely hilarious OOC-stuff. But if that's all that remains from a character, that's just sad.

I need way more Credible Hulks who love quoting the books as much as I do, around me!

But anyways, I'll come around.

That I had quite a few not so very good books this year didn't help either. I need both the Eidolon- and the Xantine-book to be good, next year! And St. Martin better NOT writing any shit about Lucius attacking Fenris (I mean, WTF, St. Martin! That short story was the worst you ever wrote, man!).

[dizzy-n-busy]

★ FINAL GIRL ★

Charlie is Casper's Final Girl (Guy)!!

{cw: chasing, light angst with happy(?) ending, heavily implied/referenced death off-screen, mild possessive n' obsessive behavior, Charlie is scared but kinda into it??}

• • • ★ • • •

Charlie's legs burned.

He was just walking to his old childhood friends house and ended up getting jumped; passing the alley wasn't the smartest idea, sure, but he just got off of work.

His body ached and was inches away from breaking down the moment he stepped out of Pete's. He was tired and didn't want to drag this day on any longer that it had to be.

He just wanted to see his friend again, after all this time apart - Charlie smiled to himself when thinking of them.

Now, the blonde wasn't going to lie and say his feelings towards his friend were strictly platonic.

He had an embarrassingly big crush on them; then again, could you even blame him?

Imagine being a dipshit little kid and getting into so much trouble with other dipshit kids that you're life was balanced precariously on a wire, got it? Now imagine having a friend beat the shit outta the same kids who threw your ass in a locker for stealing a dollar or two from them.

Exactly, shut up.

It was difficult not falling for them, something Charlie failed at and despite not having the balls to tell them that - he didn't think getting shanked was a proper retribution for his avoidance.

Yet here he was; tearing the soles of worn shoes as he was chased by the little gang of miscreants, thinking that their faces were vaguely familiar - back in his rough and tumble days, he'd wronged more people than not so it wasn't weird that his karma was hitting so soon.

But this seems more a matter of life and death than a little black eye.

Brrrring!

What?

Despite the tears clouding his vision, Charlie had seen someone calling him through the phone he had wedged tightly in his hand - he ducked and weaved through a few buildings and hit answer under the name, Casper.

" Yo, Chuck - where're you at? "

Their voice through the device turned the waterworks on real quick; Charlie choked back a sob as he ran up on the park, more specifically - his and Cas' spot.

" H-Hey, Cas! " Charlie was almost happy in the fact that he'd die hearing their voice, " I'm sorry but I don't think I'm ganna make it your house - "

Despite the lead the pizza boy had on the gang, he wasn't the most athletic; so charging through the overgrown clearance wasn't the smartest. Charlie trips over a thick root which bursted out concrete floor, smashing into the dense plain with a cuss.

" Fuck! " The blonde grits through clenched teeth, wincing when he tried to bounce back. Shit, he definitely pulled something.

" Chuck! Are you okay? " Casper's worried voice makes him hyper aware of the fast approaching footsteps from behind. " Charlie, where are you?! "

" I'm sorry, Cas - " is all he can muster, feeling dizziness overcome his senses from his head hitting the ground, " I love you. "

Charlie's ears rang over the incoherent yelling from the glowing device hardly clutched in his hand - his weakened body fell lax onto the old stomping grounds of his youth, seeing the rest of the people round up on him.

Slate colored eyes fluttered back into his skull, forcing him into darkness.

Content.

~

A blonde headed man shifted on plush comforters, shoving his face into a soft pillow and inhaling deeply.

Smelling like fresh linen and -

He pins his brows together, and inhales again; it smelled like...Cas?

It was some new cologne or perfume - hell, maybe just lotion for all he knew - that they wore when he first saw them in years; spinning that damn sign drafted most of the scent to him.

A pause lingers in the air as Charlie tries to recollect himself.

Then he jolts up.

Wasn't he literally knocking on deaths door, like 2 minutes ago?? The fuck kinda divine intervention is this?

Thoroughly disoriented, the blonde sits stagnant in the damn near king sized bed, staring at the satin covered pillow he'd been laying on a second ago.

He shuffles a bit and feels something fall off his shoulder - his skin tingling awake at the textures surrounding him - and sees a thick blanket pooling at his lap.

" What the fuck..." Charlie's voice falls short, he eventually decided to push the warm comforter off. He sees his ankle is bandaged.

Swinging his legs off the bed and hanging on the side for a bit; looking around with his head heavy, shoulders pinned up to his ears and back slouching.

It was a nice room; fairly spacious and humble with memorabilia littering everything - records hanging overhead and poster lining the walls.

Charlie heaves a big sigh from his mouth, gently nodding his head in encouragement to sit up and get out.

Standing up was weird, his legs felt shaky and sore and his body hurt like hell. Stumbling to a wall was his only move forward.

The blonde opened the door and leaned on every wall he could, hobbling a bit from the pain striking up his bandaged leg.

The house was pretty big, probably a one story with wider parameters; good space to hightail it if he needed to. Charlie notices that it's dark out, a void having swallowed the sky and dotted it with stars from just out the window.

" You're up. "

The noise the lanky man lets out is between a squeak and shout; accidentally applying pressure to his leg.

" Fuck - shit! "

Charlie almost falls over reaching for his leg, the loss of balance sends him hurling to the floor in a matter of seconds.

But he doesn't hit it.

Instead, he's embraced in strong arms which wrap around him tightly. Charlie tossed his head up urgently and pauses; eyes widening and mind boggled.

" Casper? "

The taller nods and smiles down at him a little - with his heart suddenly thumping in his chest, Charlie scrambles to stand back up. " Holy shit, sorry! I jus - ah! "

The back of his legs are pulled from under him and a support lands at his back. The blonde yelps when he's suddenly in the air, a quick turn of his head proves that he's also face to face.

" You're turning red, Chuck. " Casper tilts their head, lips tugging up more, " something wrong? "

Charlie shakes his head frantically and despite his flailing, they kept an iron girp on him; practically digging their nails into his skin.

" Ah! Uhm - no! Not at all, Cas! " the blonde chuckles nervously, squirming at their intense stare, their smile seems to widen and their breath hitches. He gulps and remembers earlier.

" Uh, do you actually know how I got here? " his eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his hands, " not that that's a problem! It's just, a really big change of scenery. "

Casper hummed, walking back to the bedroom as they replied, " I brought you here. "

The response was simple enough but lacking significant reasoning. Charlie fidgeted.

" How? I was getting jumped and like a solid 20 blocks from your house...! " he tried reasoning, letting himself get placed on the bed he woke up in when they past the threshold to the room. " you wouldn't have been able to..."

" I dealt with them, don't worry about it. "

It was reassuring in their voice but something underlyed their words; spite curling around certain letters.

Not at him, he thinks.

" What happen - "

" You know, Chuck. "

The blonde's cut off before he can question them further, their eyes looking dark as the bed squeaked under their added weight; Charlie backed up instinctively, alarms ringing in the back of his head at the smell of metal.

He tried to ignore the racing in his heart and urge to squeak.

" You never let me respond to you, after you said - " Their eyes lid when they lean in closer, " I love you. "

Charlie berated himself internally, feeling the redness spreading to his chest. " I-I know! I'm so sorry about th - "

" I love you too, Charlie..."

The blonde gasps at the sharp point of a knife to his jaw, coaxing him to stare into their blown-out pupils; practically seeing himself inside them.

A liquid dragged down his neck, dampening his shirt; warm and red.

" My forever final girl. "

• • • ★ • • •

[rejectedbad]

Rejected Bad: King Arthur

The following is a rejected script from an early season of Breaking Bad.

INT. KING ARTHUR'S COURT - DAY

A grand hall filled with opulent decorations. KING ARTHUR sits on his throne, surrounded by his NOBLES. JESSE, dressed in modern clothing, stands before them, growing increasingly frustrated.

JESSE:  (Yelling)  I'm telling you, man! I'm from Albuquerque!

The court erupts in laughter.

KING ARTHUR:  Silence! You claim to be a Yankee from a land called Albuquerque? Preposterous!

JESSE:  (Holds up a baggie of blue crystals)  Look at this, King! In Albuquerque, we cook the purest, bluest meth that everyone wants!

The court gasps, intrigued.

LANCELOT:  Impressive! This strange man possesses great alchemical skills, Your Highness.

JESSE:  (Annoyed)  No, man! You're not getting it. I'm not an alchemist; I'm a meth cooker!

KING ARTHUR:  (squinting)  Meth cooker? Albuka-what?

JESSE:  (exasperated)  Albuquerque! It's a city in New Mexico, centuries from here! And I know how to make people desperate for blue ice!

KING ARTHUR:  Arrest this imposter! He clearly speaks nonsense and is a danger to our realm!

The GUARDS move forward to apprehend Jesse, but he holds up a BAG OF METH.

JESSE:  Back off, yo! One taste of this and you'll beg to believe me!

The King hesitates, then takes a sniff of the meth. His eyes widen, captivated by the blue crystals.

KING ARTHUR:  (astonished)  By the spirit of Excalibur! This...this is incredible! You shall be our esteemed Royal Meth Cooker.

Jesse smirks, satisfied with his victory.

EXT. CAMELOT CASTLE - DAY

Jesse, now dressed in mediaeval attire, stands before a make-shift meth lab. He explains the process to a baffled King Arthur.

JESSE:  (almost shouting)  Now, remember, you gotta mix this with that and then add some heat! Got it, King?

KING ARTHUR:  (carefully following along)  Yes, quite. Add this and heat, got it. I shall take this knowledge and ensure our kingdom prospers!

INT. METH LAB - NIGHT

Jesse watches King Arthur clumsily trying to replicate his meth. The room fills with thick smoke, alarms blaring.

JESSE:  (gasping)  No, man! You're ruining it! This is science, not some LARPing game!

King Arthur and his knights cough, struggling in the clouded room.

INT. KING ARTHUR'S COURT - DAY

Jesse, back in his modern attire, addresses the court for the last time.

JESSE:  (yelling)  You're all hopeless! I tried to bring some real power and order here, but you're stuck in your mediaeval fantasies!

The court stares silently, a mix of intrigue and confusion on their faces.

LANCELOT:  (firmly)  Perhaps we can find a way to balance your knowledge with our traditions, my friend. A union of old and new.

Jesse considers this, his frustration subsiding.

JESSE:  (dejectedly)  Yeah, maybe, man. I guess we could cook some blue crystal-infused mead or something.

The court erupts in laughter once again, but this time, it feels more welcoming.

FADE OUT.

[peacelykerockets]

Out of Touch Millennials or Boomer Minded Millennials

When I was younger I made a promise to myself to not become like old people who go on and on about "kids these days", it has become a thing that I stay conscious of until this day and I try hard to not become the old man yelling at the clouds. As steeped as my mind was in youth culture in my teens to mid 20s one thing I always hated to hear is how my generation's music, the media we consumed, and our attitudes were all bad or didn't measure up to older generations. As a millennial who could probably be considered a prototype for a lot of what's considered stereotypical Gen Z behavior (weird music, "terminally online", socially awkward behavior, leftist ideals) I was not the common millennial, at the time in my late teens and early 20s I thought I was, but I was probably further from what would be considered an NPC/Normie millennial as possible, and so were a lot of people on Tumblr in the early 2010s. Being on this site back then shaped me in a lot of ways.

What I hate to see though is now a bunch of miserable millennials constantly waxing nostalgic and stuck in the past ready to pass the buck to a new generation for all the problems, scapegoating. As said I remember when boomers and Gen X wouldn't pass up the chance to tell us the music we listened to wasn't real music or paled in comparison to what they grew up with, or how video games were a waste of time despite the fact that these same people were glued to some TV for multiple hours of a day. That were soft, entitled, and had no future, sound familiar? It saddens me that some millennials have decided to pick up that baton and run with it and now we have to constantly hear about how Gen Z's music sucks, how video games these days are worse than the ones we grew up with, how these kids dress weirdly, how it's bad to be on TikTok all day.

What also gets me is just how out of touch some millennials are to a point where it sounds like a lot of us have stepped out of cryosleep from the 2000s like the 2010s never happened. They sound straight up like boomers, sometimes more boomer than boomers. I hear and read so much dumb stuff that I want to roll my eyes back so hard until the damn stalks break. Trash like "MTV DOESN'T PLAY MUSIC VIDEOS ANYMORE!!!" Like we haven't heard that repeated over and over again. What's even the use of MTV playing music videos when we've had YouTube since 2005? And even if MTV started playing music videos again it would be all that Gen Z music that certain millennials love to sit around a complain about. Dumb stuff like bring back TRL (which already happened and flopped in 2017) when if a kid wanted to watch a music video it interact with their favorite artists these days they have YouTube and social media. Yes let's roll the clock back for a self centered nostalgia of a generation that can't give up the ghost.

What's also weird to me is how many of us millennials think we're still the youth, the kids these days despite the fact that older millennials are in their early 40s and the youngest of us in our early 30s or just about to be. I don't see anyone starting new in the music industry now who is my age (35), the most relevant artists are in their 20s, and this is something that seems to be the thing for every generation. Just using the music industry as an example but I don't think the industry is trying to sell to some near middle aged people. Sorry if as a millennial you blew your 20s or something and now living in a world that's on it's way to moving past us ass "the youth".

I read an article that explained that the Kendrick vs Drake thing as the last breath of millennial culture before we end up where Gen X was in the 2000s. I feel like that's true, like grasping at whatever vestiges of relevancy with who are arguably the two biggest most relevant rappers born in the years and are millennials. Try to co-opt Gen Z slang ironically and cheekily and trying to laugh it at the same time.

It's time to let it go, it's time to leave the kids alone and let them take the wheel because it's look like we're hitting the guard rails. I'm not saying you can't still have fun, I'm not saying go have kids settle down and be an adult, I'm not saying you can't still enjoy things from your youth and be youthful, but god damn stuff talking down on these as if the things we enjoyed and did out youth weren't also talked down by older generations. Please get with the times.

DON'T BECOME BOOMERS!