#but i wanted to draw bobby today so here he is

[2hoothoots]

because i'm predictable, what're bobby and chloe up to in the villain au? or how's the dynamic between sam and dogen since he's taken psychoisolation to the extreme?

Bobby's in a pretty similar position to the regular timeline - at least, at first glance. he's overworked and underpaid, constantly crunching to try and keep on top of the ever-growing mountain of paperwork his superiors keep handing down to him.

but i think the trajectory of his character looks pretty different? he never really met Raz at Whispering Rock. he never got humbled by him, never had to suffer the embarrassment of his spot as top dog being yanked away by some new kid... but he also never really got to go through a lot of the character growth from their ensuing rivalry? he's definitely mellower than he was as a kid, but he's got a lot of unresolved issues bubbling under the surface - anger problems, poor self-esteem, a tendency to lash out at authority figures...

he still really believes in the work he's doing, and wants the Psychonauts to be the force for good he knows they can be. but he's carrying a growing burden of stress and exhaustion, stuck in a toxic work environment that's more likely to change him (or just make him snap) than he is to change it.

his only real friend at the Motherlobe is Chloe. Chloe is... well! again, first-glance, not that much has changed. she works the same job in the Motherlobe's engineering and aerospace department, and she still gets to pursue her childhood fascination with space.

but the harsher work culture and the more pragmatic, efficient environment have exacerbated some of her less personable traits. she's blunt, rude, and almost fanatically devoted to her work, to the exception of basically everything else. her workplace safety standards are lax, and her ethics laxer. she'd sell the Psychonauts out for one corn chip if she thought it'd get her better funding for her pet projects

[flaming-toads]

So what if I go back to s1e10 of 911 and I enjoy Bobby's little dating profile and think about silly cute ideas about it hmm?! HMMM?!

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [3]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.6k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: I happen to be very sick today so I figured I'd share another part of the series with y'all. Prepare for some angst and a pissed off, grumpy Jax. The next part is almost a complete draft, so more is coming. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @mariamadison6-blog @moongirlgodness @kmc1989 @thedreadandthefugitivemind

Jax’s mind had been a noisy, dark place all day. He'd been smoking more than usual since that constant irritating, familiar itch for something was back again and demanding to be felt. It didn't help that his jaw ached from the way he'd been grinding it for hours, attempting to hold down the ever-present rage in his chest that felt like a coiled viper desperate to strike at something–anything. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before something set him off.

Drawing the beer bottle up to his lips for a deep pull, Jax sat back against one of the worn couches in the clubhouse. Legs spread wide, one of his hands absently toyed with his lighter against his thigh. Not even the alcohol had been helping to take the edge off his thoughts this evening as he watched the flame of his lighter flicker before he flipped the lid closed and snuffed it out once more.  

Across the clubhouse, Jax noticed one of the croweaters eyeing him from behind the bar. She had been shooting him flirtatious smiles and views down the front of her shirt whenever she bent over for the past twenty minutes now. For a brief moment, Jax had genuinely considered taking her down the hall and back to his dorm room. He’d thought that maybe shoving her facedown on the mattress for a quick fuck would briefly get Tara and Opie’s death out of his goddamned mind for just a little while. But for some reason the thought of fucking the same girl he'd seen with Tig last night only made that coil of anger twist tighter inside of himself. He didn't want her.

Bobby settled down on the opposite side of the couch from Jax, the movement catching his attention and causing Jax to tear his gaze away from the brunette behind the bar. Jax focused on his Vice President, watching as he rested his arm along the other armrest and sat half-turned on the cushion. There was a beer in Bobby’s own hand and a grim expression on his face as he quietly studied him. Jax could practically hear the words about to come out of Bobby's mouth before they even did. He was certain it was going to be a conversation that he'd had with him a few times now–and that only managed to piss Jax off more without Bobby even opening his mouth.

“What?” he finally snapped, unable to take the silent judgment any longer. “What is it?”

Bobby raised his hands in mock surrender, beer still clutched in one of them. “Didn’t say nothing, brother,” he answered calmly. “You just look like you’re ready to burn the whole place down over here.”

Jax’s fingers flicked his lighter shut once more, his eyes dropping down to where he’d been fidgeting with it on his lap. “Maybe I’m just thinking,” Jax countered sharply.

Bobby sighed, the expression shifting on his face as he took in Jax’s harsh tone. The sympathetic look in his eyes only managed to agitate Jax further, his hand gripping his own beer bottle tighter the moment his Vice President began speaking again.

“Brother, I know you’re feeling the loss of Opie,” Bobby began carefully. “We all are. And we’ll get retaliation for what happened to him. You know we will. We all want the same thing.”

Jax’s glare burned into the cement floor of the clubhouse as Bobby spoke. He didn’t like to think about how he’d lost his best friend just months ago. He didn’t want to remember that moment that haunted him, playing on repeat most nights when he closed his eyes. Ope hadn’t deserved that. He hadn’t deserved any of the shit that had happened to him over the past couple of years. 

But that was the life they led now, wasn’t it? Savage. Violent. Brutal. Unforgiving. Lonely. The many reasons Jax was trying to get the club out of running guns and into less dangerous business, especially after Abel had come into his life. Though it should have been Opie here as his Vice President talking to him right now. It should have been Ope talking him off the violent ledge he always seemed to be walking a thin line on lately. He’d always planned for it to be him at his right hand.

“There’s more to it than that,” Jax muttered bitterly.

Bobby nodded, more than aware that it wasn’t just Opie’s death plaguing Jax. He’d already been in a tailspin before that had happened, his best friend’s passing had just been the thing that had pushed him further into a spiraling descent fueled by rage and hate.

“Jax, man, you gotta let that go,” Bobby told him. “Tara made her choice. She left and it hurts, but it is what it is, brother. You can’t make her accept this life. You and I both know that the club life isn’t really meant for happy relationships and growing families. That’s how it’s always been.”

Jax’s jaw clenched again at Bobby’s words, his chest growing tighter. Bobby didn’t get it, not the full picture anyway. Because Jax had kept the full extent of what had happened with Tara a secret, one that was only known by Tara and himself. The club all had thought she had just come and gone from his life after Abel's birth complications, they had no idea that Agent Kohn really hadn't been in Charming investigating the Sons until he’d suddenly disappeared and left them all alone. The Sons had no idea that the psycho had actually been Tara’s ex who had followed her out here from Chicago, and that she’d most likely come here because she knew Jax would do something about it. That he was the only one who would. Because it was ultimately Jax who had finished Kohn off after Tara had shot him in self-defense when he’d tried to force himself on her. All his brothers had no goddamn idea that Jax had single-handedly disposed of the fed’s body after the fact, and now the secret lay buried within him, too. One that had been weighing on him heavily for more reasons than he cared to delve into.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Bobby,” Jax grumbled, his eyes still focused on his lighter. 

Another weary sigh fell out of Bobby as he glanced down at the beer bottle in his hands. “What I know is that you’ve been a mess ever since Tara left,” he continued carefully, full well knowing this was a difficult subject to broach with Jax. “We’ve all seen it, brother. You’ve got a shorter fuse lately, which leads to you not always making the best judgement calls. And we need you focused if we’re really going to get outta guns and get these other more legitimate businesses up and running successfully.”

Jax’s head snapped up at that, his eyes narrowing at Bobby. He wasn’t making the best judgement calls? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? He’d had the weight of the club thrust onto his shoulders right before him, Juice, Ope, and Tig had gone into Stockton, right after Jax had stripped Clay of his place in the club for the betrayal of killing his and Opie’s father–and Jax was still itching for revenge on that.

“Look, all I’m saying is that we all see it, Jax,” Bobby continued, trying to keep his tone even and calm. “You’re hurting. We get it. But you’re the club President now. You need to own your shit and leave the past where it belongs. It’s been a year, brother.” He paused, taking in the growing look of annoyance on Jax's face. “Whatever you gotta do to get right with your shit, you know we’ll support you. But this anger you’re holding on to? This rage and pain? You gotta find a way to let it go before it eats you alive.”

“It's not that simple,” Jax growled.

He could feel that growing rage clawing at his chest, desperate for release. For a target. Something to just unleash his fury on, to tear into and rip apart.  

“You need to find a way to make it that simple,” Bobby countered. “You need to–”

“I don't need you to tell me what I need to do!” Jax roared, rising abruptly from the couch and onto his feet. “I’m handling my shit. And I don't ever wanna hear you bring Tara up to me again, brother.”

Without another word, Jax stalked his way out of the clubhouse, slamming his half-finished beer bottle harshly down onto a table as he passed it. Storming off towards the clubhouse exit, he shot the hangaround that had been behind the bar silently flirting with him a dark glare that had her quickly averting her attention from him. He didn't give a shit that the guys were staring at him right now or that he’d just made a scene and went off on his VP. He didn't give a shit about anything at the moment. 

Roughly pushing the clubhouse door open with a hand, Jax stepped out into the warm summer night. He slipped his hand into the pocket inside of his kutte, feeling for his pack of cigarettes by habit to light up yet another smoke for the night. But even as he slipped the cigarette between his lips and lit it, he knew he didn't really want that, either.

He pocketed his lighter with a growl, taking a deep drag as he began to pace the length of the clubhouse parking lot in the dim lights. Back and forth he stalked in long, agitated strides as he ran a hand through his hair. His other hand pulled the cigarette from between his lips as he sharply blew out a trail of smoke, his mind still racing. He hated that the guys had seen how unraveled he’d grown lately because of Opie’s violent and unexpected death along with all of the internal festering bullshit with Tara that he hadn’t come to terms with yet. It made him want to hit something. To bloody his fists, break bone. That anger in his chest like a coiled serpent was just begging for something to sink its fangs into.

As Jax once more turned and stalked down the length of the parking lot in front of the clubhouse, his eyes landed on movement from across the street. You. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, watching you through your front shop windows as that dark anger coiled a bit tighter at the sight of you. You were laughing and waving goodbye to one of your employees, clearly closing up for the night. 

Smiling. You were smiling again.

Not even processing his actions, Jax pulled the half-finished cigarette from his lips and tossed it to the pavement. Half-heartedly stomping it out with his shoe, his gaze was fixed on you through the windows as you began wiping down the countertop. And then he was moving, making his way out of the lot and across the street as if he was compelled. 

As he harshly shoved open the door to your shop and stepped inside, he immediately came to a halt in front of the door the moment you looked up at him. He had no fucking idea why he’d come in here, he just knew needed to get away from the clubhouse, and the last two times he’d been here, you’d somehow distracted him from his thoughts. But for some reason the warm, friendly smile that had quickly pulled itself across your pretty lips in greeting at the sight of him just made his eyes narrow into a sharp glare. Gemma’s words from the other day ran through his mind again–her warning to stay away from you–and his jaw clenched. You shouldn’t be smiling at him like that.

“Evening, Jax,” your bright, cheerful voice greeted him. “You’ve actually made it in tonight with ten minutes to spare before I close this time. Your timing is getting better.”

He didn’t react to your joke, not even the faintest twitch of his mouth. He just stood there, his lips pursed and his hands stuffed into his pockets. One of your brows arched at his silence, your head tilting curiously to the side as you watched him for a moment. Goddammit, he hated the way your eyes sometimes seemed to look straight through him like that.

“Can I…get you a coffee?” you asked hesitantly.

“No,” he grunted. “Don’t want a coffee.”

You set the cleaning supplies down onto the counter, that friendly smile still drawn wide over your lips. The sight of it was only further fueling that coiled rage in his chest, but he was trying to hold it back. For the moment.

“Okay, well,” you continued, unfazed by his answer, “I can offer you tea. Or I still have some peanut butter cookies left from the day.”

Jax shook his head sharply, that hardened expression still on his face as he stood just a few feet in front of the entrance to your shop. He didn’t want any of that. He wasn’t sure why the hell he was here, but he wasn’t about to admit that to you, either. Though he noticed that this time, the longer he stood here with you smiling at him, the more he found himself wanting to wipe that cheerful look right off of your goddamn face. No one should be so fucking happy.

You nodded slowly at his response, your eyes still taking in his tense form. “I’m just cleaning up before I close,” you tried again, words coming out more careful as you spoke. “If you’d like to have a seat, you’re welcome to keep me company. I wouldn’t mind some conversation while I clean up.”

Jax hesitated for a moment. The sort of company you were probably hoping for was absolutely not the kind he knew he’d give you tonight. But still, Jax eventually strode over towards the counter before he hooked a foot around one of the chair legs that was positioned in front of it, roughly pulling it towards himself. A shrill noise abruptly pierced the air as it slid across the wood laminate flooring. With his hardened eyes still fixed on you, he lowered himself into the seat and watched as you resumed wiping down the counter. And you were still fucking smiling.

“Why the fuck do you always look so goddamn cheerful?”

The question had fallen right out of Jax so quick and harsh that he hadn’t been able to hold it back. But that beautiful smile on your face that had remained there since he stepped into your shop was just pissing him off further. He didn’t like it. Not tonight. Not directed at him. He wanted to make it disappear.

“Because I actively choose to focus on the things in life that make me happy,” you answered simply. 

His eyes narrowed at that. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Glancing up at him from beneath your lashes, you appeared to catch the face he’d just made. Pausing in your cleaning of the counter, you set the towel back down and focused your full attention on Jax–something that made him shift in his seat.

“There’s always going to be things that make us happy or sad or angry,” you began. “That’s just life. We all experience it. But a long time ago, I chose to focus on the good things instead of dwelling on the painful ones.” Your smile softened as you gestured around you. “Like my coffee shop. I’ve always dreamt of having a place like this, and now I do.”

“The hell does a coffee shop have to do with anything?” he snapped. “How the hell does a job make you so happy all the damn time?”

You shrugged a shoulder and Jax watched as you rested both of your hands on the other side of the countertop. Despite his attitude and the tone he was giving you tonight, your smile had yet to waver. Something he didn’t quite understand. He wasn’t exactly pleasant company right now, but you didn’t seem bothered at all. It was irritating.

“Because it gives me purpose. I get to spend my days making other people happy,” you answered. “Which makes me happy. I brighten people’s days with a smile and a kind word along with a cup of coffee or tea. This place itself also gives people in Charming somewhere to come and connect with each other. And that makes me feel good, too.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed at you, your response settling over him. You derived your happiness from making others happy? From caring about everyone else? Is that really what you were saying to him right now?

“Bullshit,” he replied sharply. “I call bullshit. No one is that selfless and kind without there being some sort of ulterior motive, sunshine.”

There’d been a less-than-friendly bite to the nickname as Jax said it. Almost mocking you. And that finally had your smile faltering just a bit. The sight caused that coiled rage inside of Jax to squirm restlessly in triumph. Like he’d found his target for the night. Before you could even react, Jax was speaking again, the words falling out of him.

“There’s no way you’re over here content to serve coffee to everyone,” he continued, an edge to his voice and a piercing look in his blue eyes. “That happy little barista persona of yours is a load of shit. It’s fake and you know it. And if you tell me it’s not, you’re just lying to your damn self. You’re not happy, there’s no fucking way considering I see you over here all the goddamned time working.” 

He gestured a ringed hand in your direction as you continued to stand there behind the counter, a hard to read expression on your face. But you weren’t smiling. For once, he’d started to knock that goddamn cheerful look right off of your pretty, friendly face. That only made Jax want to continue to tear into you.

“You’re a fake, sweetheart,” he spat. “And let me tell you something else.”

Jax pushed his chair back from the counter, that coiled serpent of rage in his chest seething as he rested his hands on the countertop. He leaned in closer towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he brought his face near yours, the coffee shop counter the only thing separating you both.

“You should know better than to be friendly towards a man like me,” he warned you. “I’m not good, sweetheart. I don’t do good things. And your little attempt to get through to me with your fucking fortune cookie language just makes you look pathetic and naive. I see right through you and your bullshit positivity that you so desperately cling to–you’re sad and lonely like everyone else. Why the fuck else would you be here so much trying to make nice with everyone you meet? You’ve got something missing inside of you just like the rest of us, sunshine.”

A satisfied smirk tugged up the corner of Jax’s lips as he pushed himself back from the countertop. You certainly weren’t smiling now. Your lips had actually thinned out along your face into a firm, straight line and you were gripping the edge of the countertop with both of your hands as if it was helping you keep yourself together. And reflecting back at him in your eyes was something that looked an awful lot like hurt. Like he’d struck a nerve with his words. 

“Not everyone has ulterior motives to their kindness,” you replied gently, the words coming out pained as you broke the tense silence that had fallen. “But maybe that’s all you’ve known. Either way, I appreciate you sharing your honest opinion of me, but I’d like to ask that you leave now because the shop is closed. You’re welcome to return tomorrow when we reopen.”

Jax’s expression hardened at your response. That wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted. Why weren’t you yelling? Calling him names? Cursing him out of your coffee shop? He’d just insulted you, been a complete asshole, and you were still holding firm to being polite?

Letting out a frustrated scoff, Jax turned around towards the exit without another word. He shoved the door roughly open with far more force than necessary before stepping back out into the warm summer evening. Internally fuming, he stalked off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of both the clubhouse and your coffee shop, his fists curled tight at his sides. 

That hadn’t made him feel better. Finding someone to tear down tonight, someone to unleash that pent up anger on, it hadn’t eased any of that burning ache in his chest. Knocking that smile off of your face hadn’t remotely soothed that rage inside of him. If anything, now he was feeling something else that he didn’t like. Something that he wasn’t accustomed to feeling often–guilt. That hurt, upset expression you’d had on your face after he’d went off on you like that had just looked so wrong on you after all the weeks he’d seen you through the windows smiling in your coffee shop. 

As Jax made his way around the street corner, agitatedly walking an aimless path through downtown Charming, he couldn’t help but to wonder why tearing into you like that had made him feel as fucking shitty as it had. He’d just wanted to see you not smile for once, to make you feel something other than that carefree lightheartedness that radiated from you. But ripping into you like that–you with your unflappable fucking kindness–felt like he’d just ripped the wings off of a dove.

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

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summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

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Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[kashimos-hajime]

—roses | s.r.

summary: "i would’ve been insulted,” he adds, “if you said yes to him and no to me.”

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: my bad guys... exams killed me... now i'm currently sick... will try to update more in the summer! | part of the undateable series

masterlist

The festival approaches, and as it does, Suna’s lack of date becomes Atsumu’s personal project, to the point that Suna starts hiding in places he never dreamed of visiting. Eating in the gardens despite his allergies. Staying in the library on his breaks. God forbid, walking into the arts room. 

Finding you. Somehow always finding you. Putting away music instruments. Walking to the getabako to fish out a bobby pin from your jacket. Recycling clay… whatever that means. 

You point out over the paint-splattered table: “Atsumu’s been hanging out with you more than usual lately.”

“Not my choice.” He inspects your lunch. Today, it’s a katsu sando and a side of cut strawberries. Yesterday, it’d been steamy rice and thick, potato curry slathered on top. You notice his stare, and pick up a strawberry, offering it to him. Taking it, he folds his arms over the back of the chair he straddles and rests his chin atop, chewing slowly. “He thinks it won’t be fun if I’m the only single one there.”

“What’s wrong with being single?”

“That’s funny that you’re asking that,” he replies. You pout at him, and he ignores the urge to smile.  

“I’m single now, aren’t I?”

“I guess. Are you going?”

“To the festival?” He nods. “I think so. Mina said she wanted to go, but she hasn’t found a date yet. And our other friends will be there.”

Suna finds you in the ceramics room again another day, slouched over a table and staring desolately at your sketchpad that you’re not even bothering to act like you’re paying attention to. Suppressing a grin, he heads over and hauls his bag onto the table in an undignified movement that makes far more noise than should be possible. You jolt, looking like a deer in headlights, but when you realize it's him, you put your cheek to your sketchpad again.

"Hey," you mumble, voice muffled by paper.

“What are you doing? Recycling clay again?”

“That only happens on Tuesdays,” you tell him like he should know. He rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to hide.”

“From who?”

You clear your throat, sitting up straight and tilting your head to the chair next to you. He pulls it aside and slides down as you lean over to whisper. Your breath smells like mint, and your breath is cool against the shell of his ear. Cocking his head, his eyes scan the ceramic room for anyone staring at them, but they’re alone with the breeze sweeping in through a cracked open window.

“Ryou.”

His eyebrows furrow together. Something both sticky and oily coats his innards. It makes him feel like he can’t move or it’ll ooze out of him. “From Class 4?” You draw away and nod. “Why?”

“He asked me to the festival with flowers and everything. I told him no and he asked why.” Burying your face in your arms crossed on the desk, you let out a long drawn out groan. From here, Suna doesn’t have to pretend you’re not amusing, and allows the corner of his lips to lift into a grin, stealing your pencil and drawing a dick on the corner of your page. At the movement, you lift your head and gawk, snatching the pencil from him. “Hey!”

“Why’d you say no?”

“Because I don’t want to go on a date with him. I’m being selective. And stubborn. And I’m not getting a boyfriend. Remember?” He nods. You press your lips into a thin line, but in doing so, your cheeks puff out a bit. It’s cute. “And… he’s kind of… stupid. Is that mean?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know Ryou. And I would’ve been insulted,” he adds, “if you said yes to him and no to me.”

“What? Why?”

Suna blinks. “Because he’s stupid.” At length: “Did you take the flowers, though?”

“No,” you lament. “It would’ve been mean. And they weren’t my favourites. Roses. So cliché.”

“Right.” Adjusting on his seat, he turns to grab his own water bottle, a strange boom of satisfaction echoing in his hollow chest. “Of course they're cliché to the romantic.”

“I know what you mean, but I don’t want gifts that are so… I don’t know. Tired, I guess. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t, but It’s sort of like there’s nothing setting you apart from the rest if you give the gift everyone else would. Like he could give that bouquet to any other girl now that I said no, you know?” You sigh glumly and plant your cheek against your fist. “I could stay in here forever and never have to see that boy again.” Picking up your pen, you sketch an arch loosely, and Suna watches, sipping habitually as he does so. Over time, a rough picture begins to take shape. Flowers blooming out of nowhere. Petals twisted every which way. You dig the end of your pencil into the paper. “But he’ll have to carry those flowers everywhere ‘cause I said no.”

“That’s not your fault.”

You set down your pencil and pin him with a weak glare, but it falls away and you stare at the page blankly. Suna can see how bad you feel. Something bites at his stomach. This is why he never asks anyone out. People take rejection so goddamn badly.

“I still feel bad,” you tell him softly.

Suna’s hand twitches. He has the strangest urge to touch your shoulder. He drags his palm against his thigh instead, hoping you don’t notice him creasing his slacks.

“A better gift would’ve been your favourite flowers, then,” he concludes. You look up at him through your eyelashes. “Favourite snacks or something, too.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Your lips pull into a faint smile, looking at him fondly with your chin in your palm. “Hey, you’d be a good boyfriend if you wanted to be. You pick things up fast.”

“Why else would we be in the same class? I’m not stupid. Besides, that’s a pretty basic concept to grasp. Give something someone will like.” He shakes his head. “Isn’t that just common sense?”

“You’d be surprised. A girl wants flowers. You give her flowers that she thinks are the ugliest things on earth. But they’re still flowers. Shouldn’t she be grateful?”

“No, because she hates them.”

“Exactly.” You smile. “You get it.”

Suna nods. There isn’t a lot to get, he thinks, but he doesn’t say as much. Instead, he’s content to eat the other half of your sando and watch you paint your new ceramic that finishes firing half-way through lunch period.

.

They have a practice match against Kujirama Technical, of which Kento-san is a member of the boys’ volleyball team. This leads to you sneaking Mina into the balconies to watch before the match can start and you scurry back down to the floor to grab your notebook and watch the games.

“Mina’s up there,” Akagi observes as you arrive, adjusting his jersey. You glance at the libero, and smile sheepishly.

“Is that okay?”

“It’s fine. Is she here to cheer someone on?”

“The guy she’s seeing is on the other team.”

“Traitor.”

“I know right.”

“What number?”

“Fourteen.” You point him out. Said boy is stretching on the other side of the net, and Akagi smiles mischievously. You nudge him. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’ve never heard you be nice to the enemy,” Akagi comments, cupping his arm as if you’ve broken it. “Don’t tell me you want me to let his spikes go through.”

“I never said that,” you correct. “I just want a fair, honest game.”

“Fair…” he echoes. “Honest… Not sure I quite know what that means.”

“This is why you almost failed literature studies.” Gawking, the libero’s gaze jerks to you, and you grin. “Y’know, if you need any tutoring… you could always ask our esteemed captain. I hear Kita-san is very well-read.”

“Yeah…” Akagi shivers. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I'll fail.”

"No one-on-one lessons?"

"No, thank you."

You laugh as someone approaches and you glance over your shoulder. Atsumu’s face is smeared by a large frown, and his eyebrows are making a knot in the centre of his forehead with how hard he’s furrowing. He stops next to you, a greeting barely passing his lips as he scans the gym. Akagi rolls his shoulder, clearing his throat, but when the setter still doesn't speak anything, he frowns. "Yo. What's up, Atsumu?"

“Have you seen Rin-chan?”

“Why would we see him?” you ask quizzically. A quick glance tells you he is indeed absent from the court, and you frown. “Did you not see him in the change room?”

“No. I thought you normally walk to the gym together.”

“We do, but maybe he’s too busy avoiding you.” Pointedly, you glare. “You need to stop bothering him about the festival. If he doesn’t want to go with anyone, then he won’t. You know him better than I do, and even I can tell he’s annoyed.”

“Rin-chan is always annoyed.” He waves the matter away. “And he’s always a slacker, but it’s not like him to be late.”

Osamu’s head pops through the gap between your head and Atsumu’s shoulder. You nearly jump at how close he is. “Where’s Suna?”

“I dunno.”

He frowns, straightening up and planting his hands on his hips. You shuffle closer to Akagi to make room for him in their little circle. “Kita told me to go find him, but I have to warm up. It’s not like him to be late.”

“That’s what I said,” Atsumu exclaims, holding up a hand. Osamu stares at him blankly, and his twin grins, grabbing his wrist and forcing a high-five. Akagi bends over to stretch his hamstrings. 

“Anyway,” continues Osamu pointedly, “will you do me a favour, kuri-kuri?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” You had come that conclusion yourself seconds ago, but you’re glad you don’t have to suggest it and he did first. It’d prevent Atsumu from giving you those wicked side eyes he’s prone to when he thinks he’s onto something. “Where’ve you checked already?”

“Not the change rooms. Not outside. Didn’t see him in your homeroom when I walked past earlier. Not sure where else he could be.”

“Okay. Got it. I’ll try to be fast.”

Excusing yourself quickly, you jog out of the gym and into the summer sun, shielding your eyes with a hand. 

They had said he wasn’t in the change room. You might as well trace the way to his cubby. Heading off in that direction, you duck into the hallways, grateful to get out of the sun’s direct blast. Feet tapping on tile, you eye the vending machines greedily before reminding yourself of the task at hand, hastening your pace. People still litter the halls, mingling in their groups, and a few greet you, but you can only spare a slight smile as you dart up the steps.

You don’t dare ask if anyone’s seen Suna Rintarou.

He’s not by the music room, although you have no idea why he'd be there. You take the steps down two at a time to see if he’s at the getabako.

Nope.

You peek inside his cubby to see if he’s at least taken his gym shoes, but when you find only his school slippers within, a coil of concern begins to wind tight around your gut. You step back and close the cubby before anyone catches you, and try to think of the list of places he could possibly be.

Pausing in a semi-crowded hallway, you cross your arms and scowl. Art room. No. Too dusty. Gardens? He’s allergic to pollen, so there’s no way he’d be there voluntarily. You had already checked the music room, and Osamu had said he wasn't in home room either. The only reason he frequents such places is to hide from Atsumu, and with said boy occupied in the gym, there’d be no reason for him to be there.

“Did you hear? She’s going to try asking him today!” A stray voice catches your attention, and you subtly turn your head to see some girls standing by the windows. You only know them by name, and you don’t feel eager to walk up to them to ask who exactly, in case they find out the him you’re looking for.

“Really? I never thought she’d have the guts.”

Walking over to the nearest bulletin board, you thank whatever spirits planted you and those people in the same vicinity, and pretend to pour over the posters as one of the girls sighs.

“I know, but you know how long she’s been crushing on Suna. I have to admit, I don’t think it’s going to go well.”

“I don’t even know what she sees in him. He’s good-looking and nice enough, but he doesn’t really… do anything. He complimented her one time last year on his first day. That’s it.”

“Because he’s cool. And he’s smart. Not like other guys. That’s his whole charm.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re falling for his whole shtick.” You roll your eyes. It’s not a shtick.

“It’s not a shtick.” Thank you. “Besides, I think he likes someone else.”

“What? Who?”

“That new manager of theirs.”

A scoff. “The Undateable? He isn’t like the other guys in our grade. He wouldn’t fall for her just because she’s pretty.” Your lips twist into a slight scowl. “Besides, they’re just in the same classes. That has to be the only reason why they’re hanging out together so much.”

“Yeah, but at the end of the day, Suna's still a guy, and Mimi's still a girl who's about to get her heart crushed." A moment of quiet for solidarity later: "We should probably find her, shouldn’t we? She’ll cry when he rejects her.”

“You think?”

“She’s had a crush on him for over a year. I think so, yeah. Do ya think she’s still at the gardens?” 

You look from the announcement about the band performance at the festival, and glance over your shoulder to see the girls beginning to walk away. 

Gardens? With his sneezing? Oh, that is not a recipe for romance at all.

Sprinting down the hall, you mutter ‘excuse me’ and ‘pardon’ as you swerve by people, taking the steps down two at a time and springing into the summer sun again. Running down the stone pathway, you slip by the metal gate and swing your gaze towards the bench you normally sit on when you take lunch here. It’s a beautiful garden, with lots of trees for shade, and even a nearby teahouse for when esteemed visitors come, but you don’t see a familiar head of hair meandering through. The sound of metal hinges whining catches your attention, and you walk towards one of the greenhouses, steps muffled by the grass springing between the cracks in the pavement.

As you get closer to the glass building, however, the pavement turns into gravel, and your footsteps become louder and louder as you look around, a frown pulling at your face. This is so strange… 

There’s a loud sneeze. You recognize it. Or at least, you think you do.

“Suna?” you call out quietly, suddenly afraid to break the silence. The wind chimes rustling, birds flock above your head and you try not to get distracted as you try to zero in on the beginnings of a sentence you can hear inside. It doesn’t sound like a teacher…

Creeping closer, you catch it just as you’re about to pull the door open: “… and I was wondering if you’d like to go to the festival with me?” 

Your eyes widen and duck around the nearest metal wall, crouching. You don’t want to eavesdrop, but you’ve walked too close that moving in the pindrop silence that follows the question means even the slightest crunch of stray gravel beneath your shoe warrants your demise. 

The glass door swings with the slight wind, and your heart thuds like someone swinging a bat into your throat repeatedly as you wait expectantly for his response. A knot forms in your gut when Suna takes too long to reply, and you wonder what he’s doing. If he’s really debating going with someone else once you said no. A nagging sensation bites at your heels at the idea.

“I’m flattered.”

Oh?

“But I’m good.”

Oh. He’s… good? 

“Oh… I thought you weren’t going with anyone.”

“I’m not. I also don’t want to go with you.” Suna’s voice flattens. “And it’s got nothing to do with you, so don’t start asking me if you could convince me. I don’t want convincing.” After a moment: “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry. It sounds more mechanical than anything.

“Is it because you want to go with someone else?” the girl asks. Suna doesn’t reply, his footsteps growing louder, and you glance around, panicked. How do you get out of this? Scooting along the length of the wall, you manage to make your way to the back of the green house and stand, scurrying to the nearest path and walking back around as casually as you can. You ignore how hot your face feels, the sweat gathering along the divot of your back as the sound of the door opening signals the perfect timing for you to arrive.

“Suna-san!” you call. His head jerks to the sound of your voice, and you approach him quickly, trying to gauge his expression. As always, his pale eyes only refract your practiced calm, and his lips don’t even twitch at your appearance. “I was looking for you. You’re going to be late for the practice match.”

“Did the captain send you?” he asks wryly. You nod. He rubs his red nose. “Sorry. Got sidetracked.”

“It’s fine.” You glance around him. He blocks your view, and you frown, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing in the gardens anyway?”

“Trying to see what you like about this place,” he replies swiftly, grabbing your forearm and walking past you. You let out a yelp as he drags you towards the gate again, but he lets go once he realizes you’re following. “Can’t say I get it.”

“You need to take some medication,” you answer. You don’t dare look over your shoulder when the glass door creaks. The tightness in your chest, the apprehension, eases, and you fall into step beside Suna easier. You smile to yourself. “I have some in my bag when we get to the gym.”

He eyes you out of the corner of his vision, the corner of his mouth pulling into an amused smirk. “Always prepared for everything.”

“As a manager for a team full of boys—” you wrinkle your nose—“I have to be.”

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Someone Like You - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader Rating: I'm gonna say mature. There's a hell of a lot of swearing in here, as well as some more mature themes including violence against Lucy, but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2138 a/n: Raindro concludes with RED and we're just pretending that everything is fine today and nothing bad happened ever hahahahahahaha. Anyway, this was actually a request that came to me from a dear friend, and the moment we began discussing the plot it occurred to me that it might work incredibly well for this final day! I'll admit that this challenge has been a difficult one, but it's also been so fulfilling to try and make each piece feel like the color. I hope, in some way, I've been able to do that. Anyway, without further ado, here's a bit of Harry Castillo to round things out!

You're not exactly sure what color it is that you're seeing, but then again, you're not sure you're really seeing anything at all.

The fucking audacity of this woman. How could anyone be so fucking self-centered, especially someone who claims to be helping people? Honestly, how anyone managed to find a soul mate with her assistance was beyond you, but this? This was a step too far.

"You left him," you shout, far beyond any level of anger you've felt in recent years. "You stood him up at the alter after cheating on him with your fucking bartender boyfriend and now you think you can just waltz back in here and claim him for yourself?" Fierce loyalty is basically written into your DNA, and you'd had enough of her shit even before she'd dumped your best friend, but usually you were able to remain calm and collected, even in the heat of the moment.

Right now, though, you're livid.

Lucy looks shocked, not just by your outburst but by the fact that for the first time she's not in control. "I made a mistake," she emphasizes as though it will do anything to change your mind, her voice lowering as a few people around you at the party begin to stare. She obviously doesn't want to make a scene, but you couldn't care less, especially if it proves to every single person at this wedding that she's shit at her so-called job.

"So what?" you return, teeth grinding and fists already clenched as you try your best to hang onto the single ounce of control you have left, "you think he's just gonna come running back to you?"

"Well," she pauses, drawing out her next words as though she's enjoying this far more than she should, "it just makes sense. We're a perfect match and..."

You don't let her finish, and you're no longer sure if it's adrenaline or loyalty or jealousy that's powering the crunch of your fist against her jaw. There's no pain, none that you can feel in the moment at least, your opposite hand returning with another crushing blow that has an old woman nearby screaming for help.

"What the fuck?" Lucy shouts, stepping back as quickly as she can in a feeble attempt to get away from you. She's clutching at her face, a red mark already forming on her otherwise perfect skin, and it only fuels you further.

"You don't deserve him," you argue as you take another step toward her, landing a strike against her ribs before you even realize what you're doing. She fumbles, just for a second, and then she's fighting back, a scream erupting from her lungs as she lunges at you.

Predictably, she goes for your hair, tugging at the loose strands of your updo until the bobby pins are pulling tightly against your scalp. It causes you to cry out, head thrown back as you try to free yourself, a punch to her stomach doing the trick a moment later. She's yelling, and so are you, as the circle around you both grows, drunken spectators tuning in for the evening's entertainment.

"He's meant to be with me," Lucy shouts, one of her heels flying off as she attempts to knee you. It doesn't work, your body just far enough out of reach that it allows you to land a hit to her shoulder instead. "I know he is."

"Is that why you left him, then?"

Someone in the crowd makes a sound, their surprise evident as you reveal a plot point of the story unfolding in front of them.

"Is that why you led him on for months only to fuck him over in the end and leave him heartbroken?"

Lucy stares at you, breathing heavily. "I didn't mean to..."

"The fuck you didn't," you cut her off again, kicking off your own heels before beginning to circle her. No one in the crowd makes any effort to stop you since the old woman from earlier has presumably gone to find help, so you keep going. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you landed in someone else's bed, only to leave me to pick up the pieces for Harry."

"Oh I'm sure you loved that," Lucy scoffs. "You think I didn't see the way you look at him? Like you couldn't wait for me to leave just so you could sneak in? Like you didn't want to fuck him the entire time?"

There's a whisper of damn from somewhere around you, but you pay it no mind. She's right, of course. You've been in love with Harry for longer than you can remember, emotions disguised as friendship, but that's beside the point. You didn't sleep with him when he was still in a relationship with someone else.

Hell, you haven't slept with him period.

The blasting beat of the DJ surrounds you, your eyes locked on hers, and you know what's coming next before she even says it. In fact, you will her to say it, to give you an excuse.

"Too bad he'd never actually want someone like you."

The crowd roars when you're on top of her again, fully blinded by the pure rage in your veins when you tug at her hair. Lucy scratches along your face, managing to land a decently sized cut on your lip, and you fall back when her elbow makes contact with your side. She doesn't fare any better, your fists pounding against any part of her you can reach, wedding guests chanting around you as the fight continues.

It's only when strong hands tug you backward that you start to break from the haze, even if your arms still flail wildly. You're barely conscious of the fact that someone is pulling Lucy away too, removing her from the conflict as the circle quickly begins to dissipate, and soon you find yourself ushered to a stairwell, the concrete walls immediately dulling your senses.

"What the hell just happened in there?"

You turn, for some reason surprised to see Harry staring down at you even though you came to this wedding together and you just spent the better part of ten minutes fighting with his shitty ex-fiancé. "She had it coming," you spit out before running your tongue over your lip, the metallic taste of blood lingering.

He sucks in a breath, some of your own anger reflected in his gaze, and for just a second you're almost frightened. It's never something you've felt from him before, but just as quickly as the emotion appeared on his face, it's gone, replaced once again by the soft understanding he so often wears.

"Come on," he whispers before grabbing your hand tightly, pulling you carefully down the stairs. They're easy to manage, your heels long forgotten back at the reception, and by the time he has you out in the chilly night air something that feels a little like guilt begins to settle in your stomach.

Harry says nothing as he calls his car, ushering you into the back seat in silence. The ride is quiet too, all the way back to the massive apartment he barely sees these days, more apt to arrive on your doorstep than to invite you past his own, but you suspect he has his reasons for bringing you here instead. You settle on a chair at the oversized dining table when he quickly disappears into his bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp washcloth and a first aid kit that was probably given to him as a shitty congratulations gift for purchasing his twelve million dollar apartment.

He removes his suit jacket and drapes it over a nearby chair before beginning his search through the array of bandages and gauze. You wait, watching as he finds what he needs, your eyes meeting his when he kneels in front of you.

Your breath catches, and so does his. Years of friendship and understanding and shared experiences and heartbreak leading you both to this moment.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, even though you really aren't. But at the same time, you're well aware that he didn't deserve any of this. Not Lucy, not the breakup, and certainly not you fighting his battles for him with legitimate violence.

He remains quiet, carefully reaching out to dab at the cut on your lip with the washcloth. You can feel the pain now that you've finally calmed down, and it causes you to flinch, head shifting away from him for just a second before he tries again, gentle as always.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry whispers eventually, focus locked on his work. "She knows what she did, and she has to live with it and that has to be enough for me."

This causes you to pause, because he's right, and also because you're not really sure when he got so wise.

"She was going to come after you," you explain, as though that will make all the pieces fit together in his mind. Like it will offer some kind of reasonable excuse for your actions, even though he's not asking for you to give one. "I just wanted to..."

"She's not worth it," he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and guiding it to hold the already bloody cloth against your lip before he stands.

"No," you agree, mumbling a bit as you try your best to speak without further irritating your wound, "she's not." You watch as he finds another towel to fill with ice, slowly making his way back to your side as you contemplate your next words carefully, "but you are."

It's unclear if he's even heard you, although you don't see how he wouldn't have. Not when he's kneeling in front of you again, gently exchanging the cloth in your hand for the one filled with ice. But still, he remains quiet enough to unnerve you, and it's only when your eyes lock again that you finally understand.

He wasn't worried about himself. He wasn't worried about Lucy either, or the way your outburst would likely be the talk of New York for weeks to come. No, Harry was worried about you.

You set the ice down on the table before cautiously reaching out to curl your fingers in the hair just behind his ear. He's nearly eye-level like this, bent down on one knee, which makes it all too easy for you to pull him closer. You drop your forehead against his, eyes falling shut.

"I'm sorry," you say again, your voice just a whisper this time, but the intention behind the statement is far more true than when you uttered it earlier. "I really am."

Harry doesn't respond, not at first, your heart beating loudly in your ears as you wait, but you find some comfort in the fact that he's not pushing you away. He's here, his hand gently finding yours so he can run his thumb over your bruising knuckles.

"She's wrong, you know," he murmurs eventually, close enough that you can feel his words against your lips. Your mind races through the evening, trying to pinpoint exactly what he could be referring to, but he clarifies before you can ask.

"I would actually want someone like you."

The cut on your lip stings a bit as you break into a soft smile. "I didn't think you'd heard that part."

He hums, squeezing your hand, "I did. I heard most of it, actually." His nose nuzzles against your own, the tips brushing in a way that makes you feel giddy. You struggle to contemplate the reality of this moment, so incredibly close to him that you can smell his aftershave and the expensive cologne he only puts on for weddings. You've longed for this for what feels like forever, spent countless nights imagining what it might feel like, but nothing could have ever compared to this.

"She was right about one thing, though," you admit, leaning just a bit closer so your lips brush against his when you speak.

"What's that?" Harry asks, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head.

"I did want to fuck you the whole time."

You both laugh, smiles erupting on your faces even as he captures you in a kiss, holding you against him. It makes the cut sting, but you're too lost in the moment, in him, to really care.

"But for the record," you continue when you come up from air, "I want a lot more than that, too."

Harry stands quickly, a grin still on his lips as he maneuvers you into his arms, one tucked behind your back and the other under your knees. "I want that too, love," he confirms as he escorts you to his bed, "I want that, too."

[bidisasterevankinard]

Captain Buckley?

based on my this idea

Buck is trying to enjoy his family, friends, people close to his family and, most importantly, Tommy being around him right now happy about new life. He really does. But the soft broken place of his heart where Bobby lives still aches. Hard.

But he tries. He smiles at everyone, hugs his nephew, Jee. Promises his favorite girl he’s loving her no less than before. 

He laughs when baby boy Han makes a mess of his hirt and he’s happy to have spare in his jeep. 

He’s trying to find happiness in what he still has. And he feels it's helping. He’s still not enjoying it as much as he could have been, but he does enjoy it enough.

He still can’t stop feeling like Bobby’s ghost is watching over them smiling.

Buck hugs Tommy closer. He needs to feel himself stay in now, not dissociating yet again.

His phone rings and he wouldn’t answer, but he knows the number from LADD HQ and he would never let it unanswered. 

The backyard is pleasantly quiet and empty, everyone is around baby boy Han and new parents.

“Firefighter Buckley,” he answers, hoping he’s not getting fired for something. 

“Good afternoon, firefighter.”

“C-chief Simpson,” Buck straightens as if the Chief can see him. The trainings are his intistics now.

“I hope I’m not taking you away from a shift?” man asks but Buck knows even if he was on shift he would find time to talk to the man. Everyone would.

“N-no,” he coughs, hating his stutter as never before, “It’s my day off.”

“Good,” on the line some papers are moved, “I’m sure you know Captain Gerrard is retiring next month and after captain Nash’s tragic death,” Buck can feel his nails bite  his skin in the fist. He hopes it’s short enough not to draw blood, “it’s even harder to find the leader of the team who can take after him and be a good person for that role. Not gonna lie, our first choice was firefighter WIlson as she has way more experience in the field and experience as interim captain, but she refused the promotion. That’s why we move to second. You.”

Buck tries to swallow, but he can’t.

Him taking over 118? Now? So soon after Bobby? And he won’t lie he started to think he never would as Hen would take over and he eventually would move. 

He finds his voice. It sounds so stoic and professional; he is surprised it’s him speaking. 

“Can I have time to think? Not gonna lie, I’m surprised. Captain Nash thought I’m not ready.”

“Really? It surprises me. Because in his last three years reviews he was making notes about your growing leader skills and how you would makew a great captain.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe he just wanted to protect you from all the cons of it and give you time to get more experience in field. But he believed in you, son.”

Buck almost cries.

“But, of course, take your time to talk to your family, partner and friends. Can you answer till Monday?”

It’s Friday today.

“Yes. I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

“Good. Have a good day, firefighter.”

“Thank you, Chief. You too.”

Buck doesn’t know how long he is here, breathing the air and hoping to hear Bobby’s voice giving him the answer to that question, telling him what to do. Wind stays loud but no Bobby’s voice comes. Maybe that is his last lesson from the man? To finally knows what he does and owns his decision to himself and others if they turned out to be wrong? What is the point of trying to find people’s support if they will blame him in everything anyway?

This way he would at least proudly own his mistakes and consequences.

______ here I have two variants of the ending

1)

“Here you are,” strong, warm hands hugs his waist. “I've been looking for you for half an hour.”

Tommy kisses his neck.

“Sorry. Needed some air.”

“Something wrong?”

“Chief Simpson called. He wants me as a captain of 118.”

__________

2) Eventually he comes inside. His face musr still look strange because Chim asks him from all over the room.

“Buck where you were and what is with your face?”

Looking around the room, he finds Tommy’s eyes, “Chief Simpson wants me as next captain of 118.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏

Please and thank you!!! ❤️🩷❤️🩷

Thank you!

120 for 🍎:

---

Buck heads to the locker room to change, then walks up the stairs to find Bobby. 

“Morning, Buck,” Bobby says as Buck approaches.

“Hey,” Buck smiles a little awkwardly. “Good morning.”

“Do you want to talk in my office before we get started?” Bobby suggests.

“Good idea,” Buck nods. 

He follows Bobby back down the stairs, into the office, where Bobby shuts the door gently. Buck has the feeling perhaps they should have figured this out before they got here. 

“Maybe we should have talked about this on the drive,” Bobby says, reading Buck’s mind. 

“Slight oversight,” Buck admits. 

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable working today,” Bobby says.

Buck nods. “I, uh, I’d like work to be the same, you know?”

“Me too,” Bobby insists. “Work doesn’t have to change.”

“Cool,” Buck exhales. “Thank you. Uh, what are we telling people? Chim knows.”

“Chim knows?” Bobby echoes.

Shit. Was he not supposed to tell?

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I mean, I had to tell Maddie, so…”

“Right,” Bobby nods. “Of course. Uh, well, maybe let me tell Hen? And then… I guess, whatever you’re comfortable with?”

Whatever he’s comfortable with? That’s hard. Half of him wants to wear a pin. Look at me, I’m related to that guy. Like a badge of fucking honor. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to complicate things. He doesn’t want people to accuse nepotism, like Chim had already joked. With Chim, it’s a joke. Coming from another person, maybe not. 

“If people find out, will I have to leave the 118?” Buck asks. That’s the last thing he wants. 

Bobby frowns. “I don’t think so. There’s a recommendation against family members serving on the same rig, but… It’s not a mandate.” 

Buck nods. “Okay, so maybe… I mean, I don’t want to hide it, but…”

“We don’t draw extra attention to it?” Bobby fills in.

Buck nods. “I just don’t want to not be able to work here. Uh, again.”

“I understand,” Bobby says. “Yeah, that’s probably the most professional course of action.”

Professional. A lot of that word is being used today. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Buck smiles. “I appreciate it.”

It’s sort of stiff. There’s still a weird, awkward wall between them. Buck just thinks they need to get through the shift. 

🍎

It’s a little weirder than Bobby thought it would be, working with Buck again. Nothing has even changed, from a work front. He promised Buck nothing will change. Really, that should be an easy promise to keep. Because their relation to one another doesn’t change how they work. 

At least, it doesn’t seem to be changing how Buck is working. On every call, he’s just as he normally would be. Which is to say, great as his job, and much better at taking instruction than he was when he started. Bobby never has to worry about Buck anymore. Not like he used to. He stopped taking unnecessary risks a few years back, and has been nothing short of exemplary ever since. He’s no different today. 

So why does Bobby feel different?

He’s second guessing himself. His instincts are conflicting, and he doesn’t know why. They have a dangerous rescue. A house fire. Buck is the best person for a challenging task, because of… Well, just because he is. He’s better at the physically demanding stuff than anyone, and more experienced than Ravi, and it really should be a no brainer. But it’s not. Something in Bobby’s brain, a tiny little voice, says send someone else. Just in case. Just in case it goes the other way. 

This is a problem. Bobby can’t work like this. That is compromised thinking. He can’t be a captain of a team if he acts like this. Maybe it’s because it’s a fire. It’s his son and it’s a fire, and nothing has changed, but something has, right? Something is different, because he could make another decision that… 

Yeah, compromised thinking. 

He sends Buck on the rescue. No one bats an eye. Buck is completely fine. Bobby holds his breath the whole time.

He needs to get over this. It’s like after Buck’s embolism, but worse. And nothing has even actually happened. He can’t break his promise to Buck. That’s a terrible way to kick off this effort they’re making. Bobby needs to power through it. It’s just because it’s new, right? Surely, it’ll even out, and Bobby will remember that this is still Buck; a competent firefighter who he trusts with dangerous work.  Well, it’s not Buck Bobby is having trouble trusting. It’s the work. It’s himself.

---

120 for 🤏:

---

As if signalling to Eddie that this is all okay, Buck tightens his grip around Eddie. So Eddie just does it. He turns fully into Buck. He lets his leg hitch up over Buck’s. Lets his body sink into the sensation. 

Buck just keeps reading. 

“That includes pet dogs and cats – in which experts say allergies are on the rise – but also everything from rhinoceroses, bats, dolphins to chimpanzees and rhesus monkeys…”

And Eddie, completely at ease for the first time in ages, drifts off to sleep. 

iii. 

The next morning, Eddie wakes in the same position as when he fell asleep. He seriously doesn’t seem to have moved a muscle. Buck, on the other hand, certainly has. He’s rolled onto his side, towards Eddie, so the two of them are laying face to face. Eddie is sort of engulfed in him. He feels small, strangely. Not in a bad way. 

It’s a really comfortable way to wake up. Warm and cozy. Safe. Eddie likes this quite a lot. 

There’s only one problem. One sort of incredibly awkward problem. Or, maybe two. Eddie’s not sure how to count it. 

They’re both fully erect and pressing into each other. Just enough for it to feel a dangerous sort of good. 

Now, Eddie does his best not to panic about this. Really, he does. He understands that this a natural thing that happens to the human body, and that it’s not a statement about anything at all. He doesn’t need to read into this. Right? Except, maybe it’s sort of hard not to read into it, when he’s just had one of the best sleeps of his life wrapped in his best friend’s arms. That feels like something that maybe does require some examination. 

The thing is, Eddie doesn’t do this with men. He’s never done this sort of thing with a friend. He’s also never had a friend like Buck, so, is that really comparable? He’s never had anyone like Buck, who makes him feel safe to be vulnerable and ask for help and… And be who he is, he supposes. He’s always tried to anticipate who he needs to be. He knows he doesn’t have to do that with Buck and… 

And that means, maybe, that he’s the most himself when he’s with Buck. 

Eddie doesn’t know what that means, exactly. But it doesn’t mean nothing. 

Eddie opens his eyes. His face is tucked under Buck’s chin. From the rhythm of Buck’s breathing, he’s still asleep. 

That’s good or bad. Good if Eddie wants to quietly pretend this isn’t happening. Bad if he doesn’t. Eddie still isn’t sure what he wants to do. Well, okay. His body is actually very sure. But it’s kind of saying the exact opposite of what his mind thought was true, so he’s at an impasse. 

Eddie entertains the outcome of both scenarios. If he tries to slip away, letting Buck sleep, there are two likely possibilities. One, he’s successful, goes and beats one out in the shower, and feels weird the rest of the day. Two, he wakes Buck, and they have a very awkward, bumbling time trying to reassure each other that everything is cool. Normal. Happens to everyone! 

It doesn’t. Eddie knows it doesn’t.

If Eddie doesn’t try to ignore this… Doesn’t try to pretend it’s not happening, then what? 

Then he has to face some sort of sexuality question that he doesn’t exactly have mental space for. Then he potentially puts Buck in an uncomfortable position of having to reject his advances. Although, would he? Not that Eddie is being, like, conceited or anything. Just… From everything between him and Buck, would Buck reject him? 

No. 

No. He wouldn’t. He won’t.

Tentatively, Eddie lets him imagine where this would go. Because he should know, before he does anything. He should be sure. None of this is fair if he isn’t sure it’s something he wants to do.

He imagines waking Buck. He imagines kissing him. Grinding harder against him until the stimulation is just too much to bear. He imagines Buck touching him. Holding him down while he touches him. 

Eddie’s body reacts to this train of thought more strongly than he’d anticipated. He takes a shuddering breath, inhaling Buck’s scent, as his dick absolutely begs for attention. Inadvertently, Eddie lets out a little moan in the back of his throat, hips jerking a little towards Buck. Buck’s breath hitches. 

Fuck.

Oh, fuck. 

“Eddie?” Buck murmurs, voice low and raspy. 

Eddie has poked the sleeping bear, or whatever the expression is. A very horny sleeping bear. He’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure how to explain himself. 

Instead of coming up with something passable, his brain seems to be utterly blank.

“Please,” is all it manages to transmit to his brain. Like a fucking beggar.

Buck lets out a surprised breath. He shifts, rolling and positioning himself above Eddie a little, looking down at him with a very intense look in his eyes. Holy shit. Eddie feels himself salivate a little. What the fuck? Can’t say that’s a reaction he’s used to in this sort of, uh, situation. 

“Eddie?” Buck asks again. 

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes. 

“You’re sure?” Buck asks. There’s a dammed sort of hunger in his eyes. Like, if Eddie says yes, it cracks, and Buck bursts. 

Eddie wants that. Eddie wants to see that.

[fog-kid]

I saw the wiki writing about q!Jaiden's death and got an idea. Here's to the end of Parrotduo

Roier doesn't believe in gods, he doesn't believe any creature could be as cruel to orchestrate this Hell. A lot of people in the island do though, when they talk about certain things that have no logic behind them.

Like when Spreen went missing, that was okay. Roier never let go, he's not the type to forget, but he could live his life normally because at least he had somewhere to place his hate.

One day, a normal day, no big fights with codes or books from white bears, just a simple day, the island realized he was dead.

That's when Roier got bitter because all this hate was left with no vessel and when it all sprang back to him, he had no choice but to look at it. Nowhere to shove the love that was tangled between all his ill wishings.

He doesn't believe in gods, but that time when everyone came to the same conclusion, they decided there was more to it all.

Today, Roier is in a cellar when he finds out. He can almost see it being written, Purgatory, not arriving on the ship, nuclear bomb. If there are gods, they are awfully descriptive and he once again wishes to be a non believer.

He hugs his legs, guilt nagging at the base of his throat and ending at the nails that dig into his pants, because he has to mourn in a body that's not his. He almost doesn't want to picture her, she's too good for this foreign brain. Doied doesn't deserve to even come close to the pain that's stitching his eyes, he has no place where Jaiden is concerned.

Still, there's nothing to do, and his tears are more him than the cheeks they slide down, because him and Jaiden, that could never be about a body. That was deeper, so much deeper. All of a sudden there's a hole in his chest where she was supposed to be and he knows there's a piece of him lost somewhere that should have stayed in Jaiden too.

That would be it then, he feels it swell inside him and break his ribcage, all of the words he never got to say and the smiles he never got to watch. The fight they put up, the nights they cried themselves to sleep. More than a heartbreak, it's a matter of soul.

"Is there anyone left?" he wonders aloud when the dizziness from days without sleep draws a perfect picture of her in front of him. Her wings look ethereal like never before

"Where do I put all this love if there's no one left?" he tries asking. Her smile was always too much like a setting sun.

She doesn't answer but it's clear to Roier like it was clear to her when she stayed. They never had answers, they never asked each other these questions because the other was always wondering the same thing.

He wonders now, alone and nothing but a mind trapped in treacherous flesh, if she will manage to find Bobby. He wonders if he has anything left to fight for. He wonders, for not more than a second, what it'll take to see her again. See them again.

And off she goes like everyone Roier comes to love. He should be used to this by now. He's not.

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 💜

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone 💗 I have an exam later today and then it’s my birthday tomorrow heh anyway here’s some healing fic and guess what! Buck is actually healing :D

TW: mentions of SH scars

Bobby knocks on the door again. “I’m starting dinner now. It will be ready in about an hour, okay?”

Buck doesn’t say anything.

“Buck?” He hears again. Fuck, Bobby thinks something’s happened to him, he’s so stupid he should just respond. Just say okay.

“Buck, are you okay in there?”

He puts on his short-sleeve shirt and opens the door. “I—I’ll help. If you—If you want.” If you still want me here. If you can look at me after this.

Bobby stands frozen, surprise written on his face. And then he smiles. There are tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He draws Buck into his arms and gives him the biggest hug.

He knows how he looks — arms battered and beaten with a blade and his own mind as the weapon. It’s not a pretty sight. Yet here is Bobby, holding him like he might disappear if he lets go, loving him in spite of his flaws.

This is all Buck ever wanted. To be loved anyway.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Athena says before joining in and wrapping her arms around Buck.

He has a family.

He is not alone.

Maybe, maybe he can get through this.

When they break apart, tears streaming down all of their faces, Bobby says “I’d love some help.” And that’s that.

He helps with dinner the best he can. Bobby doesn’t let him use the knives, which he understands to an extent, but also, he’d never do that in front of them, he wouldn’t subject them to that. Regardless, he helps add the spices, get some herbs from the garden, and dress the salad. He still feels better than he has in weeks, even with Bobby looking at him every 5 seconds like he’s checking he’s still there. It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to check.

“We love you so much,” Athena says at one point. “I just want to remind you. We love you no matter what.”

Buck looks at her, with glistening eyes, and says, “I love you, too. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else he can say to convey just how grateful he is for their existence. For taking him in and loving him even when he’s at his worst. For loving him like he’s theirs. Which he is, he supposes, they’re family afterall.

Tagging the usual moots <3 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

(Edit: i accidentally posted this at 12am Wednesday instead of 12pm ajidksksk my bad guys)

[yearsbecomingcool]

use me and i'll use you | bobby (hell of a summer)

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | pervy!bobby x loser!reader

synopsis | you catch bobby looking for your dirty panties, you strike up a deal instead.

warnings | 18+, nsfw, f!reader, mean!bobby, pervy!bobby, panty stealing/sniffing, teasing, dub-con elements, degradation, humiliation, edging, thigh fucking, dom!bobby, sub!reader, bobby is a bully.

word count | 3.1k

a/n | this took me forever to write and i have no idea why. i know bobby is meaner than he was in the movie but i just wanted to write him like that. I have some softer fics coming for him at some point. let me know if y'all want more fics for him <3 i'm open to doing male!reader and bobby x chris fics too if y'all wanna send requests for that, it just might take me a bit to get to with my schedule changing soon !

taglist | @zoovweemomma @browneyedluvr @mysunshinemyangel (you can sign up for my permeant taglist here!!)

You hated Camp Pineway…okay well maybe not the camp in general, just some of the counselors, specifically Bobby. Bobby and his dumbass puka shell necklace were the bane of your existence. To put it nicely you were an absolute fucking loser, and Bobby didn’t like that. Like Jason, you had been an easy target for his antics. He actually preferred messing with compared to Jason, he always said you were easier to get a reaction out of. The only people to really ever stick up for you were Claire and Jason, but once he knew they’d caught wind of what was going on he’d decided to take a more secret approach. He cornered you when others were away or would sneak into your cabin, like today. 

You had dropped off your campers at the arts and crafts room, Noelle was leading a class on something about drawing auras, you hadn’t stayed long enough to get all the details and frankly you didn’t care. You were eager to get back to your cabin and get back to the book Jason had recommended you on the local wildlife. As you walked up to the cabin you noticed the door was ajar, you approached it hesitantly and heard someone, or something, riffling around the room. You crouch down, slowly pushing the door open wider. Your eyes go wide as you see Bobby standing in front of your dresser, the top drawer, your underwear drawer, pulled open as he searches through it. You quickly run inside, slamming the door shut behind you, ready to confront Bobby. 

Before you can even get a word out he turns back around, holding a pair of your underwear in his hands. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, a pit forming in your stomach. “Granny panties, seriously? I don’t know why I expected better from you, I haven’t found a single sexy pair in here, loser.” Bobby stands there smugly holding your panties, they’re white with a frilly trim and a small bow on the front, probably the most embarrassing pair that you packed. You reach over to try and snatch the pair from his hands but he’s quicker, pulling his hand back before you can grasp the fabric. He dangles your panties over your head and smirks down at you. “You’re already dressed for the day, what do you need these for? I’m not done looking at them, freak.” He holds the pair up, turning them over and examining them. “Y’know I really thought you’d have your name written on the waistband. You just have that vibe.”

You’ve never wanted to punch someone more in your life. “Just give them back. You shouldn’t even be in here, Bobby! I-I’ll tell Jason.” You threaten, reaching up to try and snatch your panties back from him.

He pulls them up higher into the air, making them impossible for you to reach. “Oh yeah because Jason is gonna be so much help for you. You’re better off dealing with me yourself.” You know he’s right, as kind as Jason is he’s never been great at handling situations like this. Bobby brings the crotch of your panties up to his nose and takes a whiff, “Hm, not good enough. Where’s your dirty laundry, I need something I can actually get off to.” 

“Did you just fucking sniff my underwear? What the hell, Bobby?!” You exclaim, nose wrinkling in disgust. You take a step back away from him, making a quick glance up and down his body. You’ve developed an awful habit of checking him out whenever he’s around, he’s an absolute asshole but goddammit is he hot. His attractiveness is part of why you haven’t fought back as much as you probably should, all his pervy comments and quick touches send shockwaves right to your cunt. 

“Yeah, and I didn’t smell anything but laundry detergent so I’m gonna need you to show me where you keep your dirty laundry, loser,” Bobby says, glancing over your shoulder to try and find your laundry basket. 

“It’s my cabin's laundry day, it’s all in the wash.” You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly. 

Bobby shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well that’s a problem, isn’t it? You’re gonna have to find a way to make that up to me.” He shamelessly rakes his eyes over your body, lingering on your breasts and thighs. He tilts his head to the side trying to come up with a plan to get what he wants. “You changed panties this morning, right?” He asks, eyes glued to your thighs now.

You cross your arms over your chest protectively, making a face at him. “Yeah, I changed underwear this morning, I’m not gross like you, Bobby.” 

He ignores your snide comment, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “What activities have you had so far this morning?” His questions are seemingly innocuous but he’s got a plan brewing.

Your face scrunches up in confusion, “Why do you need to know? You’re being weird, like weirder than sniffing my panties.”

“Just answer, you’re the weird one, an underwear drawer full of granny panties at your big age…” He mutters. He’s always been such a little bitch.

You’re taken aback, “Don’t think I won’t slap you, Bobby…After breakfast we had ziplining and the ropes course, my campers are at arts and crafts right now. I don’t get why that matters though.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “So you’ve been marinating those for a few hours now then, huh?”

“Bobby what the actual fuck? Marinating? Gross, ugh, I don’t even have words for you right now. God no wonder no one at camp will hook up with you…” You exclaim in disgust, gagging dramatically to really get your point across. Before you met Bobby you’d never heard a man speak so vulgarly and bluntly about things like this, especially not with the…creative word choices Bobby has made.

Bobby rolls his eyes and looks at you with a condescending smirk. “Oh come on, you’d fuck me. That’s why you let me do this, right? You could’ve told me to get out, you could’ve reported me to John and Kathy, but instead you stand here and take it.” He moves closer to you, fingers looping into the belt loops of your shorts as he pulls you closer. You can smell the douchey cologne he always wears, it’s barely a step up from Axe. “C’mon, be a good girl and take those panties off and hand ‘em over to me. I’ll give you a reward if you do. You wanna be touched, don’t you? Poor thing probably didn’t get any in high school, did you? Bet you’re all pent up and craving whatever little scraps I’ll throw your way. Be a good girl and I’ll make it worth your while, yeah?” The way Bobby mixes insults with praise as he speaks to you makes you feel like you could go insane. It all goes to your cunt, dampening your panties by the second. They’re soaked in your sweat and slick, just how Bobby wants them. 

You know you shouldn’t indulge him, you know you should just push him away and go tell John and Kathy but you can’t fight your desires. The hungry look in his eyes and the way he tugs at your belt loops for an answer makes you weak. “What’ll I get out of this?”

He smirks, he knows he’s practically already won. “I already told you, I’ll give you what you want. I can practically smell your pussy from here, you need relief, don’t you? You need someone to touch you where you need it most,” Bobby teases, one of his hands drifting down between your thighs, rubbing dangerously close to your clothed cunt.

You chew at your lower lip, trying to make a decision. You could give in, let Bobby have your panties and he’ll touch you like you’ve been fantasizing about all summer, or you could deny him and be left wet and desperate. It’s a pretty easy choice in your mind. “Fine, you can have ‘em, perv.” 

He smirks and moves to undo your fly, “I knew you’d come to your senses, no one can resist me.” His playful arrogance never fails to make you laugh.

You laugh and roll your eyes, “Yeah? Why’d I see Miley turn you down during counselor weekend then?”

The memory is clear in your head, Bobby requesting a tofu burger from Jason, getting weird looks from the rest of the counselors. He strolled up the picnic table Miley was sitting at, talking up a big game, pretending to be vegan. It wasn’t long before she’d given him a disgusted look and gotten up from the table, Bobby calling her name as she walked off. It was one of your first memories of Bobby and it had you and Claire giggling together. 

He huffs, starting to slide your shorts down your legs. “She doesn’t like scorpios…Ryan Gosling is a scorpio so obviously she has awful taste.” He hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties, they’re baby pink with a small rose applique on the front of the waistband. “These are cute, much nicer than what I saw in that drawer.” 

You’ve never had anyone undress you before, never had a boy see you in your underwear before. Your whole face feels hot as he starts to slowly pull your panties down your legs. There was already a darkened damp spot at the front but as he pulls them down that’s when he can really see the effect his bullying behavior has had on you. Tendrils of arousal connect your cunt to your panties, a small pool of it sits in the gusset of your panties. You can’t remember the last time you’d been this wet. Your coarse pubic hair is shiny from your mess. 

He licks his lips, smirking down at your glistening cunt. “All this just for me? You really know how to make a guy feel special, babe,” He teases. He tugs your shorts and underwear down to your ankles and you quickly kick off your vans and step out of the clothing, leaving your lower half completely exposed to him. As he crouches down to grab your underwear his eyes go to your exposed skin. He takes his time examining every detail, it makes you feel self conscious but you fight your urge to cover yourself. If he’s gonna touch you he’ll have to see you. You watch as Bobby holds your panties up to his nose, taking a whiff, the smell a mixture of your sweat and arousal. “These are fucking perfect, better than that day old dirty laundry shit, this is fresh.” 

Your face heats up at the sight. “Bobby you’re so fucking weird,” you mutter, looking down at him in crouched position. 

He smirks up at you, rising to his feet. “Yeah, but it turns you on, doesn’t it? I mean, you don’t even really need to answer, the proof is right here,” he teases, turning the panties towards you. Your arousal is pooled in the crotch. 

“Shut up…you’re supposed to reward me for that,” you point towards your underwear, “remember?” 

Bobby laughs. “I know, I know. Just trying to have some fun first. Sit on the bed, I’m picking new underwear for you to wear today,” he instructs. 

You briefly consider following him over to your underwear drawer but instead you sit obediently on your bunk, you’ll have to wash this blanket later. You watch as he digs through the drawer, looking for a pair that suits his tastes. 

He turns back to you with a smile, holding his choice up for you to see. It’s a plain black pair of panties, a small white bow adorns the front. “See, I can be nice. I didn’t pick out anything embarrassing for you this time,” he beams. 

You snatch the pair from him and set them on the bed next to you, “Wow Bobby, you’re so kind,” you deadpan sarcastically. 

He narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head, “Don’t be rude, I still have to reward you, I could always take that away y’know?”

“Don’t-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, “Desperate huh? Go ahead and bend over your bunk for me.” He grabs the underwear off the bed and taps your leg, “Put ‘em on for me.” 

You’re quick to obey, ignoring his comment calling you desperate. You roll yourself onto your stomach so that you’re facing the wall, your ass facing him. You let him slide the panties up your legs, he tugs them up over your ass, letting the elastic snap against your skin. “You don’t wanna see my face when you touch me?” You pout, you’re a little hurt by his decision.

“Well I’m all out of paper bags, so-”

You quickly reach back and sack tap him, causing him to keel over in pain. He groans loudly, holding his hand to his crotch. “Fuck! Really? I was kidding, I swear, you’re hot! Fuck you hit hard!” He exclaims in a strained voice. You can’t help but smile to yourself, he really deserved that. 

“Give me a better apology or my aim will be even better next time,” you threaten with a smirk.

He takes a minute to compose himself before leaning forward against you, his hard cock pressed against your ass. He wraps an arm around your waist and settles his lips up next to your ear, “I’m sorry for making you feel ugly. You’re so pretty, you know how pretty I think you are. You can feel how pretty I think you are, can’t you?” He rocks his hips up, letting you feel just how hard he is. 

“I can feel just how small you are maybe,” You quip back, still trying to get him back for his rude comment earlier. 

He nips at your ear and slaps your ass, causing you to yelp. “And to think I was actually gonna fuck you, but nope, you lost that privilege. I thought you were one of those goody two-shoes types, that’s why Jason hangs around you, yeah? ‘Cause you follow the rules, you’re always nice. You’re not being nice to me, you’re breaking my heart here babe,” he teases, rubbing your inner thigh teasingly. 

Your eyes widen, “Wait Bobby, you’re still gonna fuck me, right? Y-You can tell how much I need this, c’mon, I was kidding-”

“Ah, begging won’t save you now. You’re gonna take what I’ll give you and you’ll be thankful for it, got it?” Bobby says, standing back up. He reaches down and undoes his belt and his fly, pushing his pants and underwear down to his ankles. 

“Got it,” You sigh, letting your head fall forward. 

You feel him wrap his arm around your waist, he reaches down and pulls your underwear down. He begins to play with your clit, pressing his hard cock against your ass. You whine pathetically, rocking your hips up against his hand. He rolls his eyes, slapping your clit and moving to nip at your ear. “Behave.”

You whine, “So what, I can't enjoy myself?”

“You’re being greedy. Take what I give you and be thankful for it,” he whispers, his hand coming down to slap your ass. 

You whine again and mumble a quick, “Fine.”

Bobby spreads your lips apart, collecting some of your slick on his fingers. He reaches around with his other hand to continue playing with your clit as he smears your slick between your thighs. “I need to get you dripping first.”

He reaches up to play with your breasts as he uses his other hand to play with your clit, “You should be thanking me for touching you like this, I bet you’re a fucking virgin, aren’t you?” He teases, his breath hot on your ear. 

“So what if I am?” You sneer.

He pinches your nipple, causing you to yelp. “That’s why you get wet so easily,” he laughs. He starts to knead your breast, occasionally pinching and twisting at your nipple as he kisses your neck. He’s rough with you, not afraid to leave marks that’ll be incredibly easy to see. You whimper as he sucks a mark into your neck. 

“Fuck you, Bobby.”

“Hm, no. You lost the privilege already, remember?” He chuckles. He spreads your legs apart, slipping his cock between your thighs. “Close ‘em,” he mutters. You close your thighs around his cock and gasp as you feel him start to fuck your thighs. He holds you in place with his arm around your waist, continuing to stimulate your clit.

You whimper and squirm in his grasp, so desperate to have him inside of you. It’s so close and yet so far, an almost evil level of teasing. He pinches at your clit as he continues thrusting himself between your thighs, getting off on your desperation, using it to lubricate himself. “Hm, you need to behave. I could do a lot worse than deny you my dick, take this like a good girl. You wanna be good, don’t you? You wanna earn back a chance for me to fuck you, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your ear. He exaggerates a moan as he ruts himself against you. With every pump of his hips you can feel his cock teasingly close to your cunt, you could cry from how bad you need him. 

“Bobby, please, I-I’ll be good…I-I want it, you’ve been teasing me all goddamn summer, it’s not fair!” You plead pathetically. 

He smirks, “I’ll make it up to you…just not right now.” He speeds up his movements, his hips snapping against your ass almost painfully. “Right now I’m gonna come in these stupid little panties of yours and you’re gonna wear them for the rest of the day. Maybe you’ll get a reward later, if you behave at least.” 

His breathing continues to get more and more ragged, his movements becoming sloppier by the second. He’s close. “You’re taking it so good for me, letting me use you like I deserve.” He removes his hand from your clit, leaving you desperate. “Spread your legs.” You do as he tells you to, spreading your thighs apart. He pulls himself out from between your thighs and rests his head on your shoulder. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it a few more times until he comes onto the gusset of your panties. The milky white liquid soaks and pools in the fabric. He moans your name when he comes, you can feel his breath on your back. 

He finally catches his breath, finally coming down from his orgasm. He wipes his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching down and pulling your panties up your legs. He grabs you by the hips and palms your crotch. “You’re gonna wear these for the rest of the day, I’ll meet you here during the bonfire for your reward. Got it?”

You nod, “G-Got it.” 

He smirks, redressing himself. “Good. I’ll see you tonight, loser.”

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday!

I was meant to post chapter 2 of With you I'm Home today but alas, life got in the way. In the meantime, enjoy Eddie delivering a baby!!

Tagged by @daffi-990, go check out their Fuck It Friday RIGHT NOW for Buck and May's first meeting!

“Okay, Amber, I know it hurts but on your next contraction I’m going to need you to give me the biggest push you’ve ever done,” Eddie instructs. “Cam, if you want to watch baby come out, now’s your chance, man.” Cam gulps, looking a little pale, and shakes his head. “Y-ya know, I think I-I’m good here, thanks” he stammers, and Amber rolls her eyes. “He threw up when our oldest was born and fainted at the second. Pathetic” Eddie snorts, as if he wasn’t a second away from doing the same thing at Christopher’s birth. “Hey, it happens.” It strikes Eddie how odd it is that he’s having a very casual conversation with someone while they have a face sticking out between their legs. The baby’s face, thankfully, isn’t getting any more purple, and Eddie briefly remembers that babies won’t actually take their first breath until their bodies have passed entirely through the birth canal, something about the pressure of their chest suddenly being decompressed being enough to draw their lungs open and for them to take their first breath. A quick glance at Chimney reveals that the man is ready to receive the baby, a towel draped over his arms. Hen’s breath hisses as she inhales sharply as Amber clamps down on her hand once more, the contraction building and building. Eddie wraps both hands around the baby’s head and neck, careful not to occlude the air way. “Push, Amber, push! That’s it!” he encourages as he applies a small amount of traction, the baby’s neck lengthening until the first shoulder pops free and then, suddenly, the rest of the baby follows in a slippery rush that’s got Eddie scrambling to support the body before the baby goes flopping onto the floor. “It’s a girl!” He’s holding the baby up, unable to tear his eyes away from the small, almost too small, slimy, and yet perfect human being in his arms, starting at her in amazement before remembering that skin to skin is key just after birth. Lion king moment over, he moves towards the expectant mother. Eddie’s dimly aware of the fact that he can’t hear any screaming as he lifts the baby up onto Amber’s chest. “Eddie?” Bobby’s voice is low, almost a warning, and Eddie knows, he knows he’s gotta do something, and fast. “Yeah, Cap, I know” He grabs a towel and scoots up so he’s at Amber’s side. He hasn’t even had time to inspect for damage… down there, but right now he’s got other priorities. Amber grabs his arm as he reaches over with a towel, covering the baby and begins to rub her back thoroughly. “I-is everything okay? Why isn’t she crying?” “Baby’s a little early and sometimes they need a little help breathing.” Eddie turns to Hen when it becomes apparent that this baby is going to need more than stimulation to get her breathing, his voice low and urgent. “Hen, I need you to clamp the cord and cut it, I’ve got to get her to Chim”. Hen nods resolutely and does as he said, placing two clamps about 2 inches above the start of the cord, and cuts into it with the scissors. It’s tough, almost chewy, and takes a couple of attempts before the cord is cut and Eddie swiftly brings the baby into his arms. “Chim, you ready for me?” Chimney already has the small mask out and the high flow oxygen set up. “Yes sir.” It’s been 40 seconds since the baby was born and she still hasn’t taken a breath. Eddie lays the baby out on the towels in front of Chimney and immediately focuses himself on resuscitation, leaving Bobby and Hen to reassure the parents. “Starting rescue breaths” Chimney announces, and he covers the baby’s face with the mask. Eddie holds her head stead, ensuring her airway is open, and Chimney administers the breaths. “Good chest rise” Eddie notes. “Keep going.” The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Eddie can vaguely hear Bobby and Hen talking with Amber and Cam in the background, their voices low and reassuring as they explain what’s going on. Eddie forces himself not to look over, not to see Amber and Cam’s terrified faces as he and Chimney encourage their daughter to life. “Come on, baby, breathe for me” he murmurs.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @malewifediaz @watchyourbuck @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @disasterbuckdiaz @jesuisici33 @weewootruck @eddie---diaz @fruitandbubbles @fortheloveofbuddie @rainbow-nerdss @monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @fionaswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie

[marcellaasblog]

Not my scent after all.

Main masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Eddie finds out that you know about Amelia. You are going to do any and everything in your power to fuck up Eddie and Amelia's life and take revenge into your own hands with a little someone by your side.

Warnings: So much ANGST!, fighting, mention of cheating, divorce,talk of pregnancy,hurt/confort, happy ending for the reader!

Author's notes: I had help from this amazing person right here @ejlpov she put so much of her amazing ideas into part 2 so thank you for that cause if she didn't do that I would of gave y'all a sad ending💕

Also I recommend reading her fic if you love angst as much as I do!

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When Eddie had got out the restroom he was met with the perfume bottle straight to his head .

"BABE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" Eddie asked as he picked up the perfume bottle glancing up you as you give him the "you know what you did" look. Eddie could feel his heart about to stop any moment as he see you with his phone in your hands. He glances down at your feet as he sees all his shit layed out on the bed.

" we talk about this?" Eddie pleads.

"Nothing to talk about, Edward. Except you don't need to wait till Friday to see your whore". You stands, walking towards the chest of draws you use to share with him , grabbing his keys, removing the ones to the house tossing them and his phone to him, before heading into the bathroom. "now you get to see her everyday. Make sure you're gone by the time I get out, I'll make sure to take your shit to you later."

The click of the bathroom door locking brings Eddie to his senses. It never occurred to him that he would lose her. He lost her. He actually lost her, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

*Ding*

Eddie phone goes off

Amelia:I miss you too baby, wish I could see you now, but I know you'll make it worth my while when I see you on Friday. Good thinking of getting the same perfume. She's so pathetic that she'll never suspect now.

Guilt fills him with a sickening feeling. Eddie's finger hovers over the keys before looking at the bathroom door. He knows she is crying in there, and he's the reason for it. He begins writing

"uh about Friday...."

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Today was no other good day for you at all you didn't go to sleep last night until 3:00 as you cried your eyes out wondering why he would do this to you and what led him to do it.

Today you were determined to take him all his shit, but that wasn't enough for you you wanted him to suffer you were pissed, angry, frustrated ,sad your high school sweetheart the person that you said your vows to, the person that you made love to,the person that brought you comfort an happiness, the person that you made it home for in your heart ,just broke every promise he ever made to you. you weren't about to sit back and let him get away with this shit.

You wanted him to hurt , to suffer,to feel like his whole life was falling apart.

.

You stopped at Eddie's job at the garage as you take in all the boxes of his clothes and accessories he still had at the house.

You were met with his manager Bobby at the front desk he looked at you like you were so crazy woman.

"what's all this dear." He asked as he took a quick Snoop of all the things in the box.

"I'm dropping off Eddie's stuff here I don't feel like meeting him anywhere or even looking at him." You we're on the verge of crying and Bobby can sense that you were frustrated just by the look on your face.

"what did he do?" That was the only question Bobby had to ask before you broke down.

"He,he fuc-ken cheated on me bobbyyy." You say as you you leaned on to the desk, Bobby got out from his chair as he took you into his arms and trying to calm you down.

"shhh sweetie breath, take a deep breath for me doll."bobby said as he rubs your back breathing in and out with you counting to 3 as you exhaled every breath.

He would have never thought in his years of knowing you and Eddie that he would do such a thing to you.

"It hurts, it hurts so bad. I trusted him and he took advantage of that.i don't wanna feel like this bobby, our whole relationship was built on lies. I thought he ACTUALLY LOVED ME." You yelled as bobby held you tightly in his arms he is comforting you as you let all your emotions out.He can feel your tears on his shirt and your hands squeezing against his arm as you sobbed violently into his chest.

Bobby didn't know to do to calm you down so he did what he knows best.

"what a dickhead.you want me to go beat him up or key his car cause I don't mind." Bobby asked as he hears you giggle into his chest.

"No it's alright bobby thank you." You say as you let go of him he brings to your cheek as he wipes away the tears.

"no problem sweetheart,but can I asked you something." He applied waiting for you to answer.

"Go ahead." You say as you already know what he's about to ask

"I don't want to get up in your business but do you know who the woman was?" He wanted to help you that's the only reason why he's asking.

"I don't know her but it was some women named Amelia,it seem like he was real close with her too."

Bobby didn't say nothing as he looked at you. His mouth hung low.

"Amelia what?" Bobby asked. You can feel his grip getting tighter around you.

"That's all it said. Their was no contact photo or even the last name.. why you asking?" you were looking at Bobby like if he was the crazy person.

"I gotta go, look just leave his stuff on my desk I'll take care of it later but here's my number because if it's right about what I'm thinking then you're going to need it." He said as he quickly grabbed a sticky note writing his number on it. He runs out of the shop apologizing to you again.

What the fuck was that all about? you thought.

Why would you need his number?

It took you a second to realize what he meant by needing his number if he was right.

Oh shit....

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Eddie had to go back to live with Wayne until he could get things situated.

When Wayne asked Eddie what happened, Wayne never felt more dissipointed in his nephew untill now.

Why would Eddie do such a thing to you? You were a sweetheart you did nothing wrong to Eddie, you loved him unconditionally and this is what his nephew does to you.

Wow smart move boy,but Wayne knows you, he knows you won't Just sit back and leave it . Whatever you do to get back at Eddie all by mean he won't stop you from the karma that is coming to Eddie.

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Eddie you went to work week after like nothing happened. When he entered the shop his manager Bobby went up to him punching eddie right in the face.

"REALLY MUNSON YOU CHEAT ON YOUR FUCKEN WIFE WITH MINE!" Eddie did know what to say or do as he can feel the warmth of his blood dripping from his nose.

"COME ON YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF YOU FUCKEN ASSHOLE!" Bobby said as he kicks Eddie in the stomach with all his strength he had left in him.

It's Bobby's turn to break to down he should of never believed Amelia when she said she wouldn't cheat anymore.

Him and Amelia had kids a family and she still broke her promise.

Bobby gives Eddie all his stuff and the vanilla folder with the divorce papers you have already signed.

"I don't want you near y/n you got it Munson,take your shit and leave and make sure you sign those divorce papers or I'll make you."

Divorce papers?

Eddie couldn't believe it.

You wanted to divorce him you couldn't even give him a chance to explain himself.

Eddie wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole he felt his heart sink his mind gone dizzy he couldn't hold back his sobs any more .

He fucked up and he's paying for his actions.

"oh and by the way, your fired." Bobby told him as he told Eddie to leave.

Not only did Eddie lose his wife but he also lost his job.

One down one more to go.

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When Bobby found out that Amelia was cheating on him again but this time with Eddie he didn't let her know he wanted to see if she would confess or she would play through her acts and lies still.

When Bobby told you that he knew Amelia and Amelia was his wife you felt sorry for him he could feel your pain as you sat across from him at the coffee shop . He told you it wasn't her first time cheating on him she did it back in high school during prom night and he still stayed with her.She did it a couple of months after giving birth to her second child Bryan.

He loved Amelia and he wanted to do everything in his power to keep her no matter what she was doing.

He wanted to do it for the kids he didn't know how he was going to tell his two boys that their mommy didn't love daddy anymore. he probably won't tell them at all their still to younge.

He couldn't watch their little faces break over something he had no control over.

That weekend you and Bobby went to go get the divorce papers for you and him.

He knew that you didn't want to see Eddie face to face so he gladly said he would give him your divorce papers as well as he gives Amelia her.

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Night before Bobby would give Eddie the divorce papers he sat down Amelia at the table right after she put her kids to sleep. He didn't wait any longer he wanted her out.

"How long?" He asked .

"Excuse me?" Amelia asked .

"How long have you been sleeping with Eddie?"

Amelia's face drops as her blood run cold she knew she got caught and she knew this day would come every other time she would cheat Bobby seemed to catch on.

"HOW LONG!" he yelled

"5 Months." She whispered

Bobby looked at her with discuss. Why would she lied him again? She promised him and she still did it .

"I need you out of the house by tomorrow morning. You can keep everything except the car I gave you and the kids,they will stay with me.Im gonna take full custody of them". He said resting his hand in his face.

He tries to not show his red teary eyes. He didn't want to show Amelia that this was hurting him he wanted to make a point that he wasn't going to deal with her shit anymore.

"WAIT NO BABY YOU CANT DO THAT TO ME!" Amelia yell jumping out of her chair I should try to go hug her out now ex-husband.

Bobby backed away from her

"WHY? HUH WHY CANT I DO THAT AMEILA ,BECAUSE YOU SEEM NOT TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THIS FAMILY."!

He may be holding back his tears but he's not going to hold back his words.

"IM PREGNANT!"

Bobby let out a little chuckle as he leans back into his chair.

"well you can go tell Munson to take care it, because that's not my fucken kid, is it?"

Amelia let's her head drop as she sways her head side to side telling him no.

Bobby gets up from his chair ready to head up to bed.

"well I think we're done here, you can sleep in the couch tonight but tomorrow I want you gone." He said walking up his stairs.

He didn't know how he was going to tell you that Amelia was pregnant with Eddie's baby, He didn't want to hurt you more but he knew you needed to know.

Boddy cried himself to sleep that night as he crawled up into a ball wishing he would of just left Amelia that night at prom.

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After he gave Eddie the divorce papers that morning he called you to telling you to meet him at the same cafe place again.

He needed to talk to you and you knew by the tone of his voice it wasn't good news.

Sadly for him you didn't have good news eaither.

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Bobby didn't wait no time telling you what happened.

"I gave Amelia the divorce papers, but whag I'm about to tell you right now was a shock to me too and I don't want to hurt you but you need to know."

You gulp down your coffee not quite ready for what Bobby's about to tell you.

"Amelia's pregnant and I know it's not mine because we haven't done anything in months." Bobby says running his hands threw his Beard.

"bobby." You say as your eyes start to swell up.

He grabs your hand for confort waiting for you to continue.

"I'm pregnant. I found out a couple of days ago I thought it was just me getting sick because I've been crying alot but I took a pregnancy test , well 2 of them and they both came out postive." Bobby squeezes your hand as he gets up to give you a hug . He didn't care if people were looking at him all he wanted to do right now was to hold you.

"I don't know what to do, this is my first time being a mom and at that a single mom." You cry into his chest as he rubs your head smoothing your hair down from your face.

He whispers into your ear .

"Hey you got this I know you do, and you don't have to be alone you have me" you giggle at his kind gesture whipping your tears away.

"No pretty girl should be crying over a man , especially Eddie. I will do everything in my will and to keep you safe okay. I'm sorry Amelia dragged you into this and split y'all up and I'm sorry Eddie was such a dickhead to fall for it .You don't deserve that baby , no one does."

"Not even you bobby,she ruin everything a woman would of wanted."

You kind words melted his heart as he bits down on his lip not wanting to cry in front of you.

" It's alright shit happened but we learn from it and move on."

"yeah I mean karma is bitch." You smirked at bobby

"she definitely is." Bobby said getting up from the table.

"They will definitely get what's coming to them."

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9 months later

Life was much better for you and Bobby now, but for Eddie and Amelia, well, let's just say they got what they deserve .

You see, Bobby was a very well-respected businessman and mechanic who owned serval garages in Hawkins and surrounding towns, meaning Eddie was blacklisted. No garage was willing to hire him. He couldn't even get a loan to open his own shop. The only job Eddie could get was at the plant with Wayne, and that was cause he was now the hiring supervisor. He was back to living in the trailer with Wayne now too, sleeping on the old fold up bed Wayne sleep on in Eddie younger years.

.

Bobby got everything, too, including full custody of the kids. The kids love you as well, evening going as far as calling you mom in front of Amelia, referring to her by name whenever they saw her.

Amelia was your standard stay a home wife. Never working a day in her life once she met Bobby. Amelia had everything people wished for, a rich husband, a beautiful house, and even two beautiful children. She was spoiled and never heard the word no, until she begged Bobby to forgive her and take her back even after he said no multiple times.

She works as the lunch lady at Hawkins High - the only place that would hire her, her reputation as homewrecker following her everywhere now.

Eddie wouldn't take her either, breaking things off the night you found out. Feeling sick with himself every time he saw or heard her voice and name.

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You pretend Eddie never existed moving on with your knew life with you new fiance and your first kid to be brought into this world. You gave your little girl Bobby's last name , you didn't want a low life cheaters last name to carry on with your daughter. You and Bobby welcomed home a new addition to your little family.

Barbra Benson.

You can say karma was on your side.

I hoped y'all liked the ending and another thank you to @ejlpov for you amazing ideas for the ending 💕

Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl @maxstecc @cassielvy @zaddyskye69

The @ that are crossed out for some reason it didn't let me tag y'all so sorry!

[jackhues]

im sorry i love delilah

imagine matthew putting her in little panthers gear for some event, and for some reason she wants to wear bobs jersey not matts and matthews like, sorry pickle you dont have a bob jersey and she goes on the ice all pouty, but then when she comes back theres a little bob jersey in mattys locker

do not apologize, i love lilah too! [takes place before the 23/24 season]

"c'mon, my del," matthew ushered her along, down the halls of amerant bank arena, and towards the locker room. "we gotta get you in your jersey if you want to be in the video."

"coming daddy," lilah gripped her stuffed panther 'kitty' in one hand, and held matthew's hand with her free one.

people rushed in and out of rooms, up and down the hallways, trying to get everything sorted for media day. delilah wanted to be in one of the challenge videos, but she was supposed to wear some sort of panthers gear if she wanted to be in it. although no one was going to enforce that rule with her, delilah wanted to wear her jersey and matthew was perfectly fine with it too.

"here, arms up please, let's get your jersey on," matthew held out the smaller 'tkachuk' jersey that hung in his stall, coming along with the other jerseys.

"can i have a bobby jersey?" she asked. "bobby played really good last time, and he gave me a chocolate today, did you know that? he's a goalie too, goalies are really cool. i think i want to wear a bobby jersey."

"aw, sorry pickle, but you don't have a bobby jersey," he reminded her. "you can wear the tkachuk jersey right now, and the bobby one when we can find one."

"aw, i wanted to wear it now," she pouted.

"matthew!" someone poked their head in the door. "matthew tkachuk, it's your turn for solo shots!"

"yeah, one second," he said to the assistant. he turned back to delilah, who'd taken a seat in his stall, and was kicking her feet dejectedly. "tell you what my del, why don't you go and help them take pictures and videos? maybe you'll convince one of the guys to give you their prize."

delilah continued to pout, but allowed matthew to lead her to where the other panthers were doing challenges and playing games as they waited their turn.

"i'll be back soon, pickle," matthew promised, kissing the top of her head.

he made his way to where his solo shots were going to take place, unable to get delilah's little pouty face out of his mind. the last thing he ever wanted to do was make her sad.

"and you're done," the photographer smiled, letting matthew leave.

his first thought was to stop by the waiting room where delilah would be, but then he remembered how sad she was... and so he took a little detour. not far, simply to the panthers' shop in the arena. luckily they had what he was looking for, and in the right size.

he stashed it in his locker, before stopping by the waiting room, where challenges and games were taking place. delilah was sitting on the floor, multiple drawings, and even more chocolates around her. apparently, she was giving out her drawings to her favourite players (all of them, but especially bob), and they all gave her chocolates and candies in return.

"hey del," matthew knelt next to her, a little surprised to see that she was still upset. usually, she got over things quickly.

"hi daddy," she responded, continuing her drawing.

"why don't you come with me to the locker room, huh? i got a surprise for you," he held out his hand.

delilah looked at him, but they both knew she'd never say no to matthew's outstretched hand.

"okay," she took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the locker room.

on the way there, matthew realized he never did anything special for her. there were no chocolates or candies or drawings in his locker waiting for her. just one simple thing, something he didn't even have to pay for.

but then delilah squeezed his hand as she followed him, and all of his nervousness flew away. this was his del, his little pickle: she'd be happy with a can of worms. this was better than that, at least.

as soon as her eyes landed on matthew's stall, she gasped. she couldn't read perfectly yet, but she'd seen that name on bob's jersey tens of times.

"is that a bobby jersey? for me?" she looked up at her dad.

"for you," matthew agreed. "you wanted one, so i got you one."

delilah tilted her head at him, unfamiliar with the idea of getting anything she ever wanted. even though matthew tried to spoil her, there wasn't much she wanted. and before matthew, there was no one giving her what she wanted. so it was still a little new to her.

but then she smiled, her toothy little grin that made matthew's heart melt every time, and she gave him the biggest hug she could. "thank you, daddy! you're the best!"

"even better than bobby?" he joked.

"hmmm, i don't know, but you're better than uncle brady," she decided.

matthew laughed, "alright, i'll take it. now, arms up, let's get your bobby jersey on."

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday

Taggedby @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @devirnis @callmenewbie @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon. Thank you my dears for tagging me 😘💕

Bit of a longer snippet today. Wrote this the other night (before Christmas) when I had a random burst of writing beans and quickly pumped out 1.5K after a shower. It was unexpected and I wasn’t sure if it flowed or was just delirious ramblings, but I think it’s okay?

It’s from Chapter Six of Rival Firefighters 🚒, which is Eddie’s POV. The whole fic will be probably 10 chapters long and I’m excited to be over the halfway mark! Unfortunately I probably won’t be posting until the whole fic is finished cos my anxiety would flip if I started posting and it wasn’t finished yet 😅

Anyways … here you go …

Eddie’s time at the 118 is drawing to a close with only a few days left until he’s heading back to the 136. The mood at the station has been a bit down, the team already mourning the oncoming loss, Buck especially. Their resident golden retriever has been sulking around with his tail between his legs, throwing Eddie the saddest puppy dog eyes.

The thing is, Eddie loves being at the 118 and working with Buck, Hen, Chim, Bobby and the rest of the team. He wasn’t expecting to form such strong friendships here or find the perfect partner, but the 118 surprised him. Even though he’s not officially one of them, they have accepted him as their own.

When Carla had a family emergency two weeks into Eddie’s time at the 118 and Eddie had to go pick up Chris and bring him back to the station, Bobby had welcomed Chris with a warm smile and immediately begun showing him around. Eddie had tried to apologize, explaining Shannon was out of town so he didn’t know where else to take him and Bobby had simply told him that there, at the station with them, was the right place for him and that Buck had filled Bobby in on the situation as soon as Eddie had left to go pick up Chris. A flood of warmth had threatened to bring Eddie to his knees but he’d managed to remain standing, moving forward to embrace Bobby in a hug that showed just how much the small act of kindness had meant to him.

Eddie feels like he’s being torn away from the start of something special, but he also knew coming in that he wasn’t going to be here forever, it was just a temporary gig. He’s got three more days until he has to say goodbye to them. To Buck.

He knows Buck is going to stay in his life despite Eddie leaving to go back to the 136, but he has to say goodbye to working with him. Yeah they’ll probably see each other from time to time on a call and get to work with each other then, but it won’t be the same. Working side by side with Buck every shift is honestly one of Eddie’s favorite things, which is funny seeing as how once upon a time Eddie dreaded seeing Buck on a call.

Buck is funny, knows a whole bunch of random facts and has the biggest heart of anyone Eddie’s ever met. He’s also a giant dork who manages to get himself into all kinds of trouble, like right now Buck has somehow managed to tangle himself up in one of the hoses while doing an equipment check. Eddie shakes his head in exasperation as he makes his way down the loft to help Buck out before the 6 foot 2 lug breaks something.

No pressure tagging: @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @athenagranted @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @shitouttabuck @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @jamespearce9-1-1 @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @captain-hen @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @mellaithwen and anyone else who wants to share something 🙂

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.