#cuz hes my favorite middle aged man

[orangeaesblog]

Cant stop drawing Forever and Philza so,,, here is some stuff from my sketchbook

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Not his type

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: you are helping at Chucho’s ranch and Javier thinks you are still definitely not his type

warnings: as usually SMUT ( vaginal fingering, oral -m!receiving, male masturbation, protected p in v, biting, hair pulling), cursing, soft!Javi - cuz that’s my favorite genre of Javi -, just a smudge of angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of food, fluff  

word count: 10.5 k (I like them big I guess *wink wink*)

A/N: I planned to start my Marcus Pike fic but then this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. This is basically just a long friends to lovers fic.

Javier Peña is not a simple man – far from it. He is bitter and hot-headed, and he feels small no matter what he does – he should have done better, he should have been smarter, quicker. He shouldn't have been such an idiot. Maybe then he wouldn’t be now standing in front of his childhood home. Maybe then...  

But no matter what Javier thinks of himself he is a good man. He is caring and always wants to do the right thing – even if the consequences of his actions make him look like a bad guy. He doesn’t care – or he does but doesn’t let it show. Doesn’t want people to know that perhaps he is not as strong as he seems. Doesn’t want them to know that he cares – sometimes too deeply. Doesn’t want them to know he might feel – it's better if he seems unapproachable and looks like if you'd touch him, he'd burn you too greatly - so much that you would want to do nothing with him ever again.

So Javier feels the weight of all of his sins drop into his stomach when he keeps standing on the porch of Chucho’s house with a suitcase that he had packed with himself from Bogotá. He wanted to leave all of his old life behind but some memories stay with things that are bound to them.

He feels like a little boy again when he came home crying because lads – older and bigger than him – were picking on him. He feels like the little boy who hid behind the skirts of his dear mama when guests came to visit. That’s why he wants to look so tough, that’s why he is so hard around the edges – he changed, Bogotá changed him so he wouldn’t have to feel that small ever again. But even that didn’t help. Deep inside he is still that little boy. He can hide behind his bravado - his stern scowl and cold gaze- but that fact will never change.

He doesn’t know how long he has been standing there until the door swings open – almost hitting him in the face – and he sees Chucho standing in the doorway. His signature cowboy hat on his head and that old red flannel shirt he bought him on Christmas ages ago seems a little tighter around his middle than he'd last seen him in it. He is older – slower, the age showing on his face. But when he smiles as he sees Javier in front of him he looks 30 years younger.  

Javier looks a lot like his pops – he has the same nose that he hated when he was younger – and pops had the same colored dark hair once that curls if it gets too long. They have the same dimple on the left side of their face if they smile too hard and like his pops, Javier could never really grow a proper beard.  

Pops hugs him as if he hadn't seen him in ages – and to be honest, that is true. Work and life always got in the way and he regrets all the time he missed with him. He also didn’t want to come home – his mother’s things were still everywhere in the house. Her pictures, the warms blankets - that Javier loved to wrap around himself on the colder nights in Laredo - scattered on the armchairs and couch. He didn’t want to see Pops sad and so he stayed behind in Bogotá drowning in work, booze and women. The Peña men had different ways of grieving. Chucho never said anything to Javi though – he didn’t blame him for not coming, didn’t yell at him for letting him be alone on holidays – and he should have. He should do all those things because maybe then Javier wouldn’t feel like such a bad son.  

When they part Chucho smiles – he didn’t smile a whole lot after Javi's mom died. “It's good to see you, Javier.” He pats him on the back – a little clumsily, Javier notices but he puts a tight smile on his face. He missed a whole lot.

“You too, pops. How have you been?” It’s a question he knows the answer to. He always answers the same – busy. After the death of his wife Pops seemed to spend most of his day outside working on a ranch. Barely coming home to eat or drink. Wanted to occupy his mind. “Seems like you started actually eating as I said.” Pops waves his hand back at him.

“You calling me fat, mijo?” Javier opens his mouth to answer but Pops beat him to it, his belly shaking a little with laughter. “Someone has been helping me out for a while now. Cooking and cleaning the house once in a while.” Javier quirks an eyebrow at this and he pushes the small suitcase as he enters – now his home, too. It didn’t change here in the slightest. Pops throws him a look above his shoulder as he looks him up and down quickly. “Seems like you have been skipping out on meals, my boy. Come, Bee is here and the lunch should be already done. She made Pozole de Pollo o Guajolote. Your mother's recipe.” Javi stands straighter at the nickname. Surely he didn’t mean...

The delicious smell coming from the kitchen makes his stomach rumble and he doesn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He abandons the suitcase in the hallway after he takes off his boots and jacket that he puts on the old wooden hanger for coats he made with Pops when he was around 12 –its asymmetrical and weird-looking seeming like it was made by a child – which it was but it’s a memory Javier is very fond of.  

The floors creak under Javier's quick footsteps and he stops in the doorway as he watches you fuss around his dad. His entire body softens, the crease in his forehead disappearing as he sees you in the Peña kitchen. The past coming into the present. Prepping the silverware on the table that lays in the middle of the smaller kitchen. He sees that Pops kept everything in place like it was even before the death of Javi's mother. He missed this place. Even though bittersweet memories crawl out on the surface of his mind and his heart aches like it hadn’t in a really long time.

“Seems like you are a busy bee, Bee.” Javier smirks when you look up at him. You didn’t really change after the last time he had seen you. Sure, you aged – as has he – but you still kept your spark from all those years ago. You smile fondly – and a little unsure – at him as you quickly wipe your hands on the apron wrapped around your middle. And Javier notices - of course, he does. The hesitation in your step when you walk to him. The little twitch of your lips you make when you are nervous.

He is an observant man. He watches and analyzes. And he is good at it too - you squirm under his intense gaze. As if he could see every little part of your soul, even the deepest secrets you kept hidden somewhere back down inside of you. That’s why he is such a good agent. Was, at least. His dark eyes shift to your cleavage just for a second. You don’t notice - his eyes quickly scanning you up and down.

He looks good. Even better than the last time you saw him. The mustache he grew suits him. His hair is longer than he had when he went to high school with you. He is broader and seems even taller. He is a man now, not the little boy you played hide and seek with. He still wears the same smirk on his lips though - that kind of smirk that meant trouble when you two were younger. His jeans hug him in just all the right places and the black shirt he is wearing makes him somehow look even hotter. All man.

“You know me. Never could keep still.”

And he does. He does know you. Or at least he did - when you two were just young kids, then stupid teenagers and suddenly - strangers too. You grew up at the Peña dinner table as much as your own. Your mothers were great friends, your fathers old buddies. You had a farm right next to them which you eventually sold when your folks passed away and it was just too much work for only you alone. You bought a small house with the money you received.  

Javier still remembers when he first saw you – all toothy grin and two braids sitting on top of your head. You wore that stupid flowy dress in an ugly mustard color. You were more of the outgoing type and Javier – to everyone's surprise – was more of the lonely kid. He was smaller than his peers – smaller than you even, when you first met him. And he doesn’t remember why you started talking to him and wanted to become his friend but he didn’t complain at that time. You visited him almost every single day – looking for mischief all around. Broken glasses and bones were nothing new to both of you. The two of you were inseparable – until high school. Javier – for once in his life, thanks to you - didn’t feel so small anymore. He grew up to be a handsome and smart, confident and funny, pretty charming and self-assured young man. Girls started noticing him and he loved the attention – when their heads turned around to look.  They thought he never noticed. But alas, Javier was an observant boy even back then and he noticed – his cockiness getting on your nerves sometimes. He never wanted to feel small again.  

And like almost every girl – you developed a huge crush on him.  But it wasn’t because he was tall and cocky, no. It was simply because you knew the real Javier – your Javi. Who hated being alone and who hated going to the church every Sunday – hiding in the dusty, covered in spider webs attic. He never noticed you – like he noticed the other girls. He never gave you that loop-sided grin or the puppy heart-filled eyes. You were just great friends - even when you wished for more. And one day you weren't even that.

You should have seen it coming, really. With Javier becoming popular, he started hanging out with you less and less. When you came to Peña's household he was already out with his new friends. And you always came running to him like a pathetic little puppy who comes to his owner no matter how many times they kick him. His friends laughed at you. And later on, he started laughing with them. He got a girlfriend – Lorraine, the sweet and perfect Lorraine – before you two stopped talking. The old memory still stings when you think about it.  

It happened on one of those super warm summer nights in Laredo. You wore one of your favorite dresses. It hugged your curves and you thought you look absolutely beautiful in it – your mother said so too. You asked Javi if you could meet up at your spot – the old scrap yard just a couple minutes' walk from both of your houses. When you arrived there your stomach dropped to your feet – his friends sitting with him on your favorite car that was reserved for only you and Javi. Laughing and drinking booze, the atmosphere lose. But you didn’t feel lose – your muscles taunt and all you wanted to do was just turn on your heels and leave. Cry about this stupid little crush you had on this stupid Texas boy. But Javier spotted you before you could do so – somehow he could always spotted you even in the biggest of crowds.

“Bee! Come and join us!” He yelled, one of his hands shooting into the air as he held an unopened can of beer. And with his other hand...he was holding Lorraine. They were close to each other – her almost sitting on his lap as she placed kisses on the column of his throat. You swallowed the ball of anxiety that was building in your throat as you heard them whisper: “Why did you call her, man?” He didn’t answer as he smiled at you. Lorraine's eyes squinting at you in annoyance.

Clearing your throat you asked: “Javi, can we talk?” He just shrugged his shoulders as he hopped off from the roof of the car mumbling a quick “sure”. He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt – you noticed just then. The sun was slowly setting and his golden skin shined. The butterflies in your belly made you want to go home and squeal into your pillow. You gulped and a few of his friends whistled – noticing the once-over you gave him.

“Someone has an admirer here, Peña. Too bad she is so fat and ugly! Like a pig – oink oink!” All of them bursted into laughter and to your surprise – so did Javier. He laughed straight into your face and you fought the tears in your eyes to not spill as you finally turned on your heel – as you should have done much sooner – and left. You didn’t see the remorseful look in his eyes and the way his muscle twitched, his mind screaming at him to go after you. He never wanted to feel small ever again and his friends said you were a loser – people like him shouldn’t talk to people like you. He didn´t want to be loser again.

Lorraine pulls him by the shoulder back to her – her tongue plunging into his mouth and when they pull apart she grins, the long nails of hers scraping across his golden-tanned chest.  

“Forget about her, Javi. You don’t need her.” He nodded – unsure – but he didn’t have time to think about it too much as her tongue fought with his once more – the heavy taste of beer on her tongue filling all of his senses.

After that, you stop talking to Javier. You still came to his house - with your mama - but you didn’t greet him anymore and he was pretty sure you told your and his mother as well, as they always threw him a dirty look whenever he was in the same room as you. You didn’t look at him and you didn’t acknowledge his presence anymore. He hated that he felt so small again even though he didn’t have a reason to. He had friends and a girlfriend, and all the girls threw themselves at him. So why does his stomach pull tight anytime he is near you, why does he feel like he lost peace of himself?  

One day he decides he has had enough. Both of your mothers went outside to catch the last rays of the sun and you are alone in the kitchen – baking your famous apple pie. He sneaks behind you and cages you in. You feel his breath on your neck, the slow raise and fall of his chest. You turn around – your noses almost touching – and he sees the hot fury in your eyes. You are covered in flour and Javier thinks – just for a split second - he had never seen you look so fucking beautiful. His gaze lingers on your mouth maybe a little too long because he sees you are talking – your mouth opening and closing.

“What do you want, Javier?” You ask and he had never heard you so annoyed, so drained. You didn’t look like yourself anymore and didn’t sound like it too.  

“Us to start talking again, Bee.” Because Javier is selfish and he takes and takes. Sometimes forgetting to give something back in return. He widens his eyes when he feels the sting on one of his cheeks – his head moving to one side with the force of it. You slapped him. He looks at you – you are all wide eyes and snarling teeth.  

“Fuck you, Peña.” You quickly try to scramble away from him because you feel like crying again. No because of sadness – no. That sadness turned into raw fury after the incident at the scrap yard. Because of how idiotic and stupid he is. And because – no matter what he had done and told you – you can’t seem to shake off the crush you have on him. He grits his teeth and his hand grabs your wrist. Both of your breathing erratic.

“It's not my fault you are not my type, Bee.” He didn’t mean to say that - the words coming from his mouth sound foreign to him. Not right. But his hot temper gets the best of him and the way he said and what he said should not hurt that much. But it does. It feels like he had just stabbed you in the heart and then twisted the knife – deeper and deeper.

You yank away from his grip and you point a finger at him – your hand shaking with the hurt, anger, sadness, Everything coming at you in waves - it feels so fucking overwhelming. You want to scream at him, kick him, hurt him as much as he had hurt you. But what good would it do? None.

You exhale shakily and Javier waits for the fight but it doesn’t come. You shrink into yourself and turn to leave. You look at him above your shoulder as you whisper. “I hate you so fucking much, Javier Peña.” And you are gone.

The heavy weight of your words lingers in the air and he feels the hot tears running down the apple of his cheeks. He quickly wipes them away. His ears are ringing and he doesn’t hear your mother yelling at you about what happened. He doesn’t smell your apple pie burning in the oven. He fucked up. Because he will never get to talk to you again or feel your touch. He will never hear you laugh and he will never get to comfort you again when you cry. Because the only source of your sorrow is him – the stupid Texas boy you now despised.  

Javier comes to present and you give him a quick side hug telling him to sit down. Chucho watches both of you and he prays that you are both wise enough now to sort out this little grudge you have. But you are also both too stubborn and the dinner passes in silence. The only sound is the clinking of silverware cutting through the thick air and sometimes Chucho quips in to ask Javier about Colombia - Javier doesn’t want to talk about that, though. So he stays quiet as he chews - the food tastes exactly like his mother’s.

When Javier sneaks a quick look at you he thinks that maybe he wasn’t such an idiot. The bitterness from your last talk makes his face twist. He hates how - even after all these years - you seem to not acknowledge him even though you try to stay as polite towards him as possible. As if you just look through him and not at him. He watches as you pass his pops a salt and you grin at something he says.

And yeah, you are still definitely not his type.

Javier sees you almost every day. It drives him fucking crazy. The way you just nod at him when he passes by or is in the same room as you – which is mostly kitchen -, the way you don’t answer his questions about you. How have you been, what did you do after high school? He only knows your folks passed away shortly after he left for Colombia – Chucho told him over the phone. Your parents felt like second ones to him. He wanted to call you after Chucho told him, he really did. But he didn’t know your number – that was just an excuse, he knows that and he also knows Chucho would have given it to him if he asked. He feared that you would hang up on him, that if he heard your broken voice he would book the closest flight to come to you. After all – you were best friends a long time ago.  

Javier wants to know everything about you – but you give him nothing. You are just a big complicated riddle to him and he has no hints to figure you out. He notices you though and the things you still do. You still enjoy watching sunsets as you did when you were younger. And that you talk to plants when you water them or that you still secretly go and feed horses a few sugar cubes even though you really shouldn’t. That you still hum when you cook and squint your eyes on either him or Chucho when they enter the kitchen because you don’t like when somebody disturbs you while you are in you’re your element. You always liked to bake and cook – often sneaking into the kitchen with him late at night because he wanted cookies and you gave in and baked them. Because he asked you to and said please – Javier never said please often and that habit he kept.

So because you don’t seem happy when he wants to talk to you or occupies the same room – you actually don’t seem happy with his presence in general and that makes his heart tighten even if he doesn’t understand why – he spends most of his day tending to the ranch. Feeding the animals and fixing the old barn. Today he started fixing the old fence that didn’t even look like a fence at all anymore. He grunts as he stands up – he is getting old and his back is fucking killing him. The Texas sun makes him sweat, he smells and he feels thirsty – has felt thirsty for a while now. But he knows it's afternoon and you are probably in the house cooking. He contemplates it – he doesn’t want to see you uncomfortable around his sheer presence but fuck. He feels like he could drink a whole gallon of water. Fuck it, he thinks as his steps lead him to the Pena house. You knew he was coming back home – if you didn’t want to stick with him, you wouldn’t.  

When he is finally inside and the sun doesn’t burn his face, he takes off his yellow aviators and the thick working gloves. He is covered in sweat and dirt and as he enters the kitchen you think he never looked better. But he always does in your eyes and you hate yourself for it. You gulp and turn your back to him as you try to quickly scribble the things you need to get at the farmers market today. Your body stiffens when he walks behind you – his shirt brushes against your shoulders - and grabs one of those old funny-looking glasses you painted together when you were probably around 9. The air thickens and the atmosphere is awkward – you both want to say something but nothing comes out of your mouths. Finally, Chucho enters and he looks at Javi and then back at you.

“Go shower, mijo. You are going with Bee today.” It's an order and Javi doesn’t want to argue. His house, his rules. Quite the opposite – maybe the change of setting will finally let you loosen up and you will talk to him. He wants to say to you so much. He looks at you and you gape at Chucho as he throws you a pointed look. You swiftly shut your mouth – Javier taking the steps by two as he wants to scrub himself squeaky clean as soon as possible. He feels positively giddy – it reminds him of the times when he got his first car and drove around Laredo with you.  

When he comes down the hushed conversation between you and Chucho comes to a halt and he looks between you two before Chucho almost pushes you out of the house. You drag your feet behind you and the giddiness he felt leaves him as he sees your “enthusiasm”. He wants to go and hide in the nearest hole, lick the wounds he pretends he doesn’t have but you are already sitting in the passenger seat by the time he gets his head out of the gutter.

The ride is awkward, filled with silence and you squirm every once in a while in your seat. You glance at Javier's profile a few times – his strong jawline and his aquiline nose. You stare at his hands and how come they are so big? The veins are prominent on the back of them - leading to the thick fingers, nails trimmed neatly. His hair is longer now after a few weeks already spend at home. He looks better than when he arrived. Now he didn’t look as...tired. And as skinny – he always devours the meals you cook and you can see him filling up around the middle. His arms were much stronger and more muscular than before because of all the work he did on the ranch. Domesticity looks good on him. You watch as he grips the wheel and see his jaw tick before he sighs.

“I am sorry, Bee.” You raise your brows at him when he glances to see your reaction to his words. He never was good with them “actions speak louder than words” he always said. “I am sorry for what I said and how I treated you during high school. I was a fucking idiot and if I could take it all back-”

“You were.” It's a simple phrase, your words coming out fast and he grips the steering wheel tighter when your hand lands on his thigh. “But that’s all I ever wanted to hear, Javier. Yes, your words and actions hurt me in the past. And they still hurt me now when I think about them. But there's nothing we can do about it now. We were kids and if it didn’t happen I don’t think I would become the person I am now so I accept your apology even if it could have been a better one. You should really work on your people skills.” You shrug your shoulders as you tease him and the hand that was resting on his thigh moves into your lap once again. He wants to tell you you could have kept it there – it felt too fucking good even if it was such a simple and innocent touch. It grounded him and Javier is touch deprived.

“So, that’s it?” He asks, his tongue poking out to lick his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows while he watches the road.  

“Yes, that’s it.”

The conversation flows smoothly after that and Javier can't believe it was that easy. If he apologized much sooner he could have been talking to you for weeks now. He missed this – your talks. You talked with your hands a lot and he enjoys how expressive you are when you are telling something. He learns a lot about you. You own a little bakery here - that’s why you are so flexible and can come almost anytime to the ranch. He feels proud of you – your dream was always to open a small bakery somewhere. At least one of us could make their dream come true. 

You laugh and talk, and tell stupid jokes or occurrences that happened in your life. He missed a whole lot and so have you. Your favorite story of his is when he told about the time his neighbor – an old lady – saw him butt naked because the woman he slept with locked him out of his own apartment after he told her he wanted nothing serious. His neighbor called him over to have some fun which he politely declined. You double over laughing and Javi grins, his cheeks hurting. He missed your laugh – he didn’t feel this comfortable ever since...well ever since you stopped talking.  

The ride passes quickly and when you step out of the car you come around – grabbing Javis's hand as you mumble something about “want to show you around here, Javi, so much changed after you left” as you throw him a quick grin. He can only concentrate on your nimble fingers between his and how it feels so fucking right before you are dragging him behind you.

You are not his type he has to remind himself as he squeezes your hand tightly.

Javier comes into the house all muddy once again. It has been raining in Laredo for the past few days - the land all soaked soil and dirt. He takes of his boots before he enters. His nose drags him into the kitchen as he catches the smell of pie. Sweet and delicious - or was it just you, standing here all soft and pretty? He can't tell anymore. These past few weeks were filled with nothing but joy – almost. You played cards with him and Chucho late at night, drinking beer and listening to Chucho's stories. Sometimes you went riding with him on the ranch. Your love for horses didn’t die out and you always were natural with them. You have your favorite one too – the small chestnut-colored mare with a fiery temperament that seems to tolerate only you. Chuho wanted to sell her a long time ago but you begged him on your knees – literally – not to. His eyes softened and he agreed reluctantly – he could never say no to you. Something both Peña men had in common. 

 Anytime Javier looks at you he feels his stomach tighten with something – sometimes arousal but he blames that on the lack of sex, sometimes on something entirely else. He tries to push it deep inside him but whenever he catches your smell his head gets all dizzy and he has the need to find you and talk to you, be near you He hates it. He hates it so fucking much. He doesn’t know what you did to him. He can't seem to shake you out of his mind. He thinks of you anytime he sees the sun setting down or the last time he picked violets for you as he saw them growing a few miles away from the ranch. Because you love violets. He gave them to you with a darker shade of red covering his ears as he scratched his neck. You thanked him and kissed him on the cheek then – his heart hammering in his chest, his pulse quickening and his lower half seemed all too interested in the skin-to-skin contact. As your lips lingered on his cheek as he thought about against what other parts of him would they feel so soft.

  Javi leans against the doorframe as he watches you knead the dough – one of the pies already in the oven. You look so nice in your overalls. He could just bend you over the kitchen counter and -

 Shut the fuck up, Peña. Don’t even think about getting hard.

 You startle when you turn around and see him, your dough-covered hand flying to your chest as you yelp. “Javier Peña, don’t scare me like that!” You scowl at him, your lip pursed and he grins – his hands shooting into the air in a silent apology. 

“Didn't mean to, Bee.” The corner of his lips pulls up as you murmur “sure you didn’t" and turn back around to put more flour in the dough. He quickly washes his hands in the sink and comes behind you – he inhales your scent and closes his eyes. The hair on your neck stands up. “You smell so fucking good.” It's a quiet statement. You look at him wide-eyed and he gives you a confused look in return.

 “What did you say?” Your throat pulls tighter. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Uh-um, that if you'd show me how you knead the dough.” He closes his eyes – idiot, idiot. You breathe out a small “oh” and shake the shock off of you as you nod and come behind him as you grab his hands in yours. 

And fuck, Javier thinks his pulse went from zero to a hundred in this second. His heart feels like it will jump out of his chest any second. Your small hands on his makes him think back to a few weeks ago.

 You stayed at Peñas that night.  You always drove back home but that night it was raining a lot and it was too late anyways. You agreed as Chucho asked you if you wanted to stay – they had a smaller spare room right next to Javis. You bid them both good night and fell asleep quickly after that. You were exhausted but a scream woke you up and you swiftly stood up on your feet and scrambled into Javier's room. He sat on the bed – all sweaty, his breath quick as his head rested in his palms. He looked up at you when the old wooden floor creaked under your footsteps. He cleared his throat and tried to hide from you. You crouched in front of him and offered him a little smile. 

 “You don’t have to hide from me, Javi.” And then he was pulling you into him, breathing you in, his hands pulled around you tightly as he sobbed into your shoulder. He was exhausted of pretending everything was fine. The weight of all the things that he did in Colombia came crashing down on him. You just shushed him as he listened to your heartbeat – his head on your chest, your hand in his as you stroked the back of it. When he finally calmed down he told you everything – the things he did, the things he should have done and the things he shouldn’t have. He told you about Los Pepes and Carilo, and the nightmares that still haunted him. 

 “I am just a shell of a man I once was, Bee.” He whispered into the night and you grabbed both sides of his face as you frowned at him.  

“You are far more than that, Javi.” He wanted to kiss you right there and then but you pulled him on your chest again and he breathed you in once more. The slow rise and fall of your chest lulls him to sleep. He never slept that well in his life.  

When he woke up the other side of the bed was cold but the smell of you – like an apple pie – lingered on the other pillow and he wanted to drown in it. He stroked himself at the thought of you as he smelled the pillow. Your soft hands and the feel of your breasts against his face, the small brush of your lips against his forehead. He came embarrassingly quickly and couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for a few days after that. Neither of you talked about that night. As if it never happened.

So now he curses himself as he feels how he twitches in his pants – the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against his back. The collar of his shirt is a bit too tight as well as his pants. For fucks sake, Peña. He hasn’t slept with anyone since he came back home and it showed. You don’t seem to notice though. 

“You are pretty clumsy with your hands, Javier.” He chokes on seemingly nothing and almost pushes you onto the ground as he stumbles a few steps back. Let me show you how good with my hands I can be - 

“Gotta take a shower.” He says and he takes the steps by two - almost falling over. He closes the door of the bathroom with little more force than necessary. He scrambles with his closes almost ripping them from him and he grabs his aching cock – tugging on it firmly as a spurt of precum shoots out of the head. He steps into the shower – the spray of cold water not helping him calm down his hammering heart or the way his skin seems to be on fire. He strokes himself quickly – the strokes measured as he thinks of your pretty lips around him or that pretty pussy you sure have. He thinks of the swell of your breast on his back, your breath on the back of his neck, your hand in his, your pretty smile and kind eyes. He thinks about how you would feel around him if he pounded into you from behind or what sounds would you make when he would go down on you. How wet would you be? Are you the quiet type or would he have to put his fingers – or something else – in your mouth to shut you up?  

He grunts and his forehead bumps onto the cold tiles of the shower as he cums. He watches how the water downs his spend and he tries to wash the guilt he feels off of him too. 

You are not his type, he thinks as he tugs on his cock for the final time. 

You are going on a date. Javier watches with a frown on his face as you fumble around to finish the dinner. You are wearing a pretty dress – a light green one with a flowy skirt that exposes the whole expanse of your back. The strings on your shoulder are the only thing keeping it in place. You look absolutely incredible. He didn’t want you to go. Fuck, what if the guy was some kind of psycho? Or worse, what if he was actually a decent guy and you'd stop helping Chucho because you would be too occupied with your new little boy toy? What would Chucho do without you – yes, Chucho of course, not Javier. Javier wasn’t jealous and he definitely wasn’t praying that your date would end up in disaster...Okay, he felt jealous. Like “I will rip that guy in shreds” type of jealous.  

And Javier would be alone tonight – Chucho left in the morning to visit his “friend” - he knows he went to Mária living across from the barber's shop. He didn’t say anythimg – the lie falling out of Chucho’s lips easily. And he felt happy for him – him moving on meant he was healing. Slowly but healing. Javi wanted to do something nice for you two tonight– the store-bought cheesecake lying in the fridge. He thought that you could watch TV today – watch anything you wanted. Maybe then he would slip his hand under the hem of your dress and he would -

“Javi!” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks a few times. You even put on makeup – the red lipstick making your lips look downright edible and he licks his own lips. He could pull you in and make you forget about your silly little date. But for once in his life Javier didn’t want to be greedy when it came down to you – you seemed so excited when you told him you had a date and he planted on the best fake smile on his face he could muster. Even though he felt sick to his stomach when you told him, his fingers twitching to catch your wrist and pull you close – to tell you you should fuck that guy and stay with him tonight. “You listening?”

“Sorry, what did you say?” You groan in annoyance – already running late – and you grab him by the collar – oh, he likes this a lot. You are so fucking close he feels your breath fan across his face.

“Listen, Javi. I don’t have time for this. The Chiles Rellenos are in the oven so they won't get cold as quickly. If it gets cold just put it in the microwave.” he nods – he knows this, of course – but wants to keep you busy because maybe then your date would cancel – no, he can't.

“Okay.” He says slowly and you let go of the collar of his shirt – just now noticing you grabbed him by it. You pull away from him. “If anything-”

“I call you. You already told me. Don’t worry, dad. I'll be fine.” You grin and turn on your heel waving a quick goodbye before the doors shut behind you. Javier gulps the growing ball in his throat and curses at himself. Idiota. But you know - of course you are not his type.

Javier watches the starry sky tonight. The cheesecake forgotten in the fridge alongside your dinner – he felt so sick to his stomach he was pretty sure he'd throw up if he ate anything. The warm blanket his mother knitted lays heavy on his shoulder as he looks at the sky – millions of stars showing tonight. You'd love to see it – maybe you already are. Star-watching sounds like the kind of date you would have loved. He fiddles with the handle of his mug filled with hot cocoa in his lap and thinks. About how he got here, about his fuck ups – and the biggest fuck up he has ever done was to let you go on that stupid date, he concludes. Okay, maybe not the biggest fuck up but close enough. He straightens up when he spots a car pulling into the driveway – your car. A small grin makes its way onto his lips until he sees your sagged shoulders and the slow way you drag your heels behind you.  

“You have room for another in there?” You ask – your voice small compared to when you left. Pointing a finger at the spot next to him. He nods quickly and when you sit he immediately wraps the blanket around your shoulders – your head resting on his shoulder. It's quiet for a while as he offers you his mug and you drink from it leisurely. He knows you will tell him what happened if you want to. The silence is not awkward – it’s a comfortable one. He always feels comfortable with you. You pull away from him and put the mug on the ground – pulling your knees close to your chin.

“Can I ask you something?” You look at him from the corner of your eye, your words muffled by your knees.  

“Anything, Bee.” And he means that. You could ask him anything in the world and he would answer you no matter what question.  

“Why am I not your type? You know, cuz it seems I am no one's type.” He knows you are referring to the time when he was angry at you after you slapped him. But he didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t know how to answer – his tongue heavy all of the sudden and fuck, why is so hard to just tell you.

Rather than answering you he twists his torso so he can look at you – really look at you. The moonlight shines on half of your face and how did he never notice how pretty your eyes were? Or your plush lips, your soft hair? He gulps as he reaches forward tentatively – his palm resting on the side of your face now. And he expects you to pull away – to tell him to fuck off. But you don’t. His throat is dry and he feels like his lungs can't seem to have enough oxygen in them because his brain seems to stop functioning too. He brushes his fingertips across your cheek and you would have never expected that Javier Peña could be so gentle with his touch. He looks at your lips – your mouth open just a tiny bit and he sees your Adam's apple bob. Do you want this as much as he does? Or is he imagining things and projecting his own fucked up desires and feelings onto you at this very moment? He doesn’t have much time to think about it before your fingers tangle into his hair at the back of his head, his breath picks up and your mouth surges forward – your lips meeting his.  

He feels like fireworks just exploded in his stomach. His skin tingles and his hands brush against the front of your dress. Your hand on his nape makes him groan into you and he brushes your collarbone with his calloused hand. He wanted this for so long and he didn’t even know about it. The other grabs you by the neck and pulls you even closer – the blanket falling off of you two when you swing your legs on either side of his narrow hips. He presses his lips against yours with more force and he is confident and greedy with it. He curls his hand around your waist and his fingertips dig into your hip while the other hand presses into your shoulder blades. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins and he is warm and fuzzy all over – his body humming with something he never felt before.

You were never kissed this way before – Javier takes, and takes but gives back even more in return. The kiss is impatient and hungry – like he waited for this all of his life. His hands on your skin make you hum out in pleasure and you trail your hand to his jaw – you can feel the stumble he has under your fingertips. You open your mouth to him and the hand on your hip squeezes you tighter, and he wants you closer, closer – this is not enough. Not close enough. And you feel the same as you pull him closer by the collar and he groans into your mouth.  You can taste the warm cocoa on his tongue and his smell invades all your senses – cigarettes, his cologne and something entirely him. Musky and sweet. Your cheeks burn and your palms are sweaty when he pulls away from the kiss – his hands brushing along the exposed skin on your back, his thumb circling your hip. His forehead rests on yours as he tries to calm down and your nails scrape across his exposed chest – he always has a few buttons unbuttoned on his shirt and it drives you insane. He moans when he feels the sensation of your nails on his skin – his hips bucking up to meet yours and you mewl as you feel the bulge press up against your core.

“Fuck, Bee. I want to fuck you so badly. Do you want that too? Tell me. Tell me, please.” Javier Peña said please. He never says please. Yoou nod furiously as you peck him on the lips – his mouth surges to meet yours once again and you lap at his lower lip, your hands fisting into the material of his shirt.  

“Wanted this since I was 16 and crazy in love with you, Javi.” You whisper against his lips and your confession makes his heart beat with joy. You loved him. He grips the flesh on your hips and mumbles a breathy “okay” before he stands up and carries you with him – your legs wrap around his middle. He stumbles a few times and almost trips on the stairs as he keeps kissing you – his tongue nibbling at your collarbones, his hands supporting your weight as he holds you by the back of your thighs.  

When you arrive in his room he throws you on the bed and starts to quickly undress. His fingers shake and he can't seem to unbutton the fucking shirt. Fuck. He stands in front of the edge of the bed and you lean back on your elbows – your gaze heavy with lust. As you see him struggling you crawl onto the edge of the bed and loop your fingers between his belt. He stops and looks at you – you eye the heavy bulge between his thighs and he gulps when your fingers trail his jean-clad cock which jumps with interest under your touch. He has never been this fucking hard before and he knows it's not because for the past few months, the only thing he has been fucking was his fist – it's because of you. “Let me.” You murmur and he nods, he watches your nimble fingers working on his buttons and when he shackles the piece of clothing off him your hands map out his chest, coming down to his belly button and you lick your lips when you see the trail of hairs leading down into the waistband of his jeans. You kiss him right there – on the soft swell of his tummy – and he jumps forward, his hands gripping your head to keep you there. You grin against his skin and your tongue pokes out of your mouth to lick him there – he shudders, and the grip on your head loosens. You pull away from him and your hands start working on his belt – it falls to the ground with a quiet cling of the metal.  

You cup him in your hand through the fabric of his jeans – even now you can feel how heavy he is and that he will feel fucking big inside of you. “You are a big boy aren't you, Javi?” He whimpers at your question and nods furiously as he looks down at you – your gaze immediately locking with his as you are already peering up at him through your eyelashes and you pout at his state. You never expected Javier to be so...needy. He closes his eyes when you squeeze him again and then he hears the sound of a zipper, he feels your breath ghosting over his tip. “No underwear?” He shakes his head and chokes when you lick the salty precum.

“No-no. Fuck. Too uncomfortable.” His eyes close as if he's in pain and his nostril flare when he feels the first velvety slide of your tongue against his cock. Your pulse quickens and you feel too fucking powerful right now as you feel him swell even more in your mouth. You hold his gaze as you pull off of him and flatten your tongue – licking your way to the underside of his cock. His hands cradle the back of your head, his pupils completely blown as he watches you put open-mouth kisses onto the hard warm flesh that jumps under your attention.  

And he is fucking big – his size obvious by sight and by the way he feels around your hand – heavy and warm. But you really feel it when you take him deeper into your throat the girth of his cock opens your mouth wider. The broken sound between a whimper and a groan makes you clench around nothing and he tastes exactly how you imagined him – clean and delicious – exactly like Javier looks. You can't fit all of him in your mouth but you try – focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat – the squelching sounds of your mouth bobbing up and down his length filling the room. You try to take him deeper and deeper – until you gag around him and pull away. Javis's mouth is wide open when you pull off of him – spit trailing from your lips and connecting you to the swollen tip of his cock. His chest heaves and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip – collecting the saliva – and puts it in his mouth – he groans with approval and it makes you want to give him more.  You sink your awaiting mouth back onto his cock once more and moan when another spurt of precum lands on your tongue. Your hand is securely wrapped around the base of his cock as you stroke him slowly and you look back up at him.

He looks absolutely and positively wrecked – his hair falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his forehead as he grits his teeth struggling to not make you take him deeper – to not fuck your throat. His grip on your hair tightens as he starts panting harshly and you feel him twitch in your mouth – you can feel he is almost there – but then he pulls back from you.

He almost lifts you into the air as his tongue delves into your mouth – wanting to taste himself on you. The bitterness of himself on your tongue makes him groan into your mouth and you never expected him to be this vocal. He steps out of his jeans and then he is back on you – his fingers working on the straps of your dress while he plants butterfly kisses on the column of your throat. He discards the piece of clothing as if it has offended him somehow and he pulls back to look at you – you can see the muscle on his thigh flex as he tries to keep his balance on his heels. His hands reach back for you – grabbing you under your knees before he is pulling you closer to him. His fingers dip into the waistband of your panties before they are too thrown somewhere behind him.  

His thick fingers work their way inside you without a warning – two of them plunging deep. You are soft, and pliant under him. Your walls squeeze him tight when he moves his finger up, up – until you sob and grab his wrist - to stop him or to plea for him to keep doing that you aren't sure. It never felt like this and he grins against the flesh of your cheek – kissing you there softly. His other hand grabs one of your tits and he pinches the nipple – it hardens under his hard touch. He bends down to suck it into his mouth and your hand shoots out to the back of his head – keeping him there. One of your thighs is firmly planted on his shoulder and his fingernails dig into your ankle, the blunt nails creating crescent shapes. Your heel digs into his shoulder with a particular shove into your cunt – the tips of his fingers brushing against something that makes you hold your breath.

The way you keep repeating his name makes him want to never leave your perfect cunt. His name and the wet sounds of your pussy sucking him in make him light-headed. He wishes no one would call him Javi again after he hears it from your mouth – whiny and high-pitched, filled with the need to let go.  

“Come on, Bee. I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking give it to me. I want you to soak my fingers.” You nod vigorously and sob when his thumb starts drawing harsh circles against your clit. He hits nerves inside of you you didn’t even knew you had before. You take everything he gives – the flick of his wrist, his fingers petting your walls, his mouth on yours. You cum when he bites you into the juncture between your shoulder and neck – his tongue smoothing the bite. You feel him smile against your mouth when you cry out into him – his fingers still working inside of you until you wheeze and tell him to stop. He pulls them out and maps your body with your juices – the slick trail shining under the moonlight that falls onto the both of you.  

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom – ripping the foil packet between his teeth before he puts it onto his length. He sits up on his heels – his cock bobbing with the movement and you gulp as he pats his thigh – telling you to come to him and you do – all jelly legged and sedated after your first orgasm. He pulls you close by the small of your back and his cock nudges against your entrance when you swing your legs around his waist. His hairy legs stick to the back of your thighs and you can feel the sweat rolling off him – his hands supporting you as you sink down on him. Your mouth forming into an “o” and you let out a breathless moan. You knew he was big – as his girth opened up your mouth more and the weight of him heavy on your tongue. But this feels entirely different. You squirm on his lap and he grunts – his other hand coming down onto the flesh of your ass. The pinch you feel as he fills you completely is uncomfortable and you grip his bicep – your nails digging into the flesh there. He hisses and kisses you – the kiss languid and slow. His tongue traces your mouth and your grip loosens – your muscles start to relax.

 “Javi, you are so big.” You don’t say him to make him feel better or feed his ego – it's just a fact. Clear and simple. His nose bumps against yours and he looks into your eyes – he is so close he is breathing the oxygen you exhale. 

 “I know, hermosa. But you can take it. Can’t you?” The new term of endearment falling out of his mouth is surprising but welcome nevertheless. He waits for your answer as he fights himself not to move – your walls squeezing around him and he counts to five so he doesn’t cum right now like some kind of fucking teenager.

  Javier slept with a lot of women. One night stands, prostitutes, his fiancé. But he never felt like this with anyone. His heart never hammered in his chest so quickly and the blood in his veins didn’t boil. His skin never felt like it was on fire by a simple touch. It's new and he welcomes it with open arms. He is tired of fighting and running. This is his new life and it's not too bad – it's better than it ever was. He never feels small with you and he chases that feeling.

 “Yes, I can. I can take it. Please move, Javi.” He listens to your command – the first drag of his cock through your walls feels intoxicating. His hot breath fans against your chest as his forehead rests on it and his hand that was gripping your ass moves to your hip – dragging you up and down his cock as you meet his every perfectly measured thrust. He maps your body and listens to your reactions – he figures out what you like or what you really don’t after a few minutes as he pounds into you.

You don’t know which one of you is louder but it makes him even sexier – the guys you’ve been with before weren't so enthusiastic about it and you felt like they didn’t even wanted to be there – the only hint of them enjoying it was when they came with a quiet grunt and fall onto the bed next to you. Javier is different – he always was – and you live for all the sounds he makes. How he gropes you and maps out your body – his fingers dipping into every crease and curve of your body. And you can feel that in each thrust there is this hidden emotion that he doesn’t want to show. But you grew up with him and can read him pretty well – and your heart swells with the unspoken words. You don’t need to hear them. He will figure it out himself eventually.  

He feels that you are close after he gives you a particularly hardh thrust and you squeal – your nails scratching his muscular back that you’ve been ogling anytime he came out of the shower without a t-shirt or when it was too hot outside and decided the piece of clothing wasn’t necessary in that kind of weather. His mustache scrapes along the flesh on your breasts and you feel his hips shift – the change of position making him feel even bigger. He puts his thumb into your mouth as he looks at you and you suck it – it tastes of you and sweat but you don’t care – as he pulls it out and starts rubbing your clit with it.

 It only takes a few drags of his cock before you are cumming – your clit throbbing as he keeps pressure on it. Your walls squeeze him and he feels like he can't move any further. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug him so he is looking at you. He is all lust-blown eyes and his baring teeth turned into a snarl. You can feel every vein and bump in his cock with every thrust and he twitches inside of you – his hand coming to hold the hinge of your jaw as his tongue tangles with yours once again. It's frantic as are his deep thrusts and you are pretty sure he will break the bed soon – the headboard hitting the wall with every pass of his hips. You admire how fucking lost in you he looks – slack-jawed and dazed. You tug on his hair once more and the reaction is almost instant – his hips faltering for a moment seemingly losing his rhythm. 

“Come on, Javi. I want you to look at me when you cum.” Your requests makes him shut his eyes before he shudders and opens them – your name a broken record when he spills into the condom. You scratch him on the back of his head – your movements slow and languid. He pulls out of you after a moment – when he catches his breath and his heartbeat evens out – even though when he is with you it seems impossible. 

The aftercare is soft and sweet as he lays on his back and pulls you close to him – stroking your spine and kissing the top of your head. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He pulls you tighter against him after you ask him that and he grips your chin so you look at him. 

“Never again, Bee. I want you right here with me.” You sigh in contentment and give him a sweet kiss.

 You are definitely his type, Javier thinks as he feels your breath even out and slowly, he falls asleep too – you in his arms – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[the-tulpar]

Mouthwashing Highschool AU

Disclaimer: This is so self indulgent, also we like the idea of them being a weird friend group, just pretend they're all around the same age. This is an AU so if they’re slightly OOC we dont think it matters, besides they're completely different ages here than in the game so ofc they’ll be different. We didn’t include Swansea (I can only picture him as a dad 😞)

Takes place in the 90s ‘cause why not

Includes: Jimmy, Curly, Anya, and Daisuke

Jimmy(mod) wrote Jimmy and Anya, Curly(mod) wrote Curly, and we collaborated for Daisuke, some tie into others

Pinned post

Group HCs -

They hang out in the music room or school yard depending on the day

Once a week, usually on Saturdays, they will all go out to eat

Curly always pays

They all bully each other(the way friends do)

Jimmy - 

This is 100% me basing this on myself

His stye is definitely grunge or punk leaning

His favorite band is Nirvana

He was majorly surprised Curly wanted to be his friend

People assume he smells like shit but he doesn’t

He isn’t bullied, people just avoid him

There was a rumor he vandalized the teachers lounge

He won’t confirm if it’s true or not

Closeted bisexual

Bass player(casually)

From Florida and hates getting the “omg ur from florida you must have been to disney so many times” 

Has definitely said some weird shit to make people leave him alone

Unfortunately those things he says follow him

Did have a public breakdown ONCE in Sophomore year and for a week people looked at him weird

His family is republican and he isn’t affiliated(Punk beliefs, won’t ever vote, thinks ALL politicians are shit)

Tried to hitchhike to Seattle for Kurt Cobain’s vigil

In a moment of weakness let everyone doodle on a patch he added to his pants

“This was a stupid idea.” “You don’t have to wear it-” “No I’m gonna wear it forever fuck off.”

Curly -

Kandi kid

Isn’t cis but hasn’t realized yet bc he’s a Himbo

Sometimes feels more feminine but thinks it’s just bc he enjoys hanging out with Anya and his little sister

Him and Anya paint each others nails and gossip

Has a growing stuffie collection bc every year for his birthday and other holidays his sister gifts him a new one

Gym bro who plays sports

Accidentally homophobic and transphobic, says smth not realizing the implications and apologies profusely when corrected/called out

Tries his best and will ask questions to better understand

Thinks homophobia is stupid bc kissing a guy can’t feel any different from kissing a girl right???

Besides everyone’s thought someone of the same gender was a little attractive before…right????

In denial 😔

Doodled a mushroom on the patch

Anya - 

Her favorite band is Tears For Fears

Is actually social within her group

She is soft spoken with people outside the group but not outright shy

She usually has a book with her, and keeps one or two in her locker

She was hesitant when Curly added her to the group since she knew Jimmy was in it, because she knew him in middle school

Wants to get into nursing school

Is surprisingly good at math(I say surprisingly cuz math is hard, man)

Had an emo phase for a few months before deciding it’s not for her

She has many emo friends though so she appreciates the style and music

Though the emo we know is obviously different from the 90s (Very)

She’s definitely lesbian imo

She can play piano but doesn’t very often

She does enjoy messing around with the trap set in the music room

Once asked Jimmy if a rumor about him was true and he got a biiiit pressed but it was sorted out

Will defend her close friends with her life 

Ride or die fr

Enjoys making bracelets on occasion, it’s a very casual thing for her

Doodled stars on the patch

Daisuke -

Listens to many different genres and if you ask for his favorite band he’ll just name a ton of songs he likes 

Style is whatever a t-shirt, jeans, and fun patterned shirt over it is (idk not my style TwT)

Is pretty energetic and is usually the one suggesting stuff the group does

Has a few game consoles but loves his game boy

He’ll let any of his friends use/play whatever console they want

Jimmy once convinced him to write smth in sharpie on a bathroom stall

Jimmy thought it was hilarious and Daisuke got so nervous about being caught

He's pan and genderfluid in the way that he just doesn't have a preference for anything, people can see him as whatever they want and gender doesn't determine if hes attracted to someone

Loves making bracelets with Curly and has made some for each member of the group 

All the different colors of the beads make him happy and he always makes the best patterns

Was last to join the group cuz he’s the youngest, but was definitely the most excited

Is constantly hungry throughout the day so he always has snacks on him, like his bag is AT LEAST 1/3 snacks

Has a huuuge sweet tooth so the snacks are usually sugary

Always willing to share with the rest of the group

Doodled flowers on the patch

Imagine this scene tho:

[sondheim-girly]

Melvin and Sergei headcanons for @this-hopeless-war and @walmartbrandwhatever

-so as we know Melvin is Trips little (step) brother

-Melvin spent a lot of his childhood trying to hang around trip and be like trip

-trip just thought he was annoying

-this all leads to Melvin always trying to act super cool, and older than he is

-most guys his age just think he’s really weird tbh

-but then in middle school Sergei moves to Tulsa from Ukraine

-he doesn’t know much English so Melvin kinda takes Sergei under his wing

-Sergei is Melvin’s first real friend 😭😭

-Sergei doesn’t know what’s happening half the time tbh

-however he does think that Melvin is super cool and smart and nice

-mostly because Sergei has no thoughts in his head (confirmed by Sarahgrace)

-Melvin also flirts with girls 24/7

-rip Melvin u would have loved saying “where’s my hug at” 😔

-modern au Melvin makes an absurd amount of thirst traps it’s disgusting

-them showing up to the rumble is so funny to me cuz at the time they’re both 14, a lot younger than everyone else there other than ponyboy

-basically Melvin hears that there’s a rumble from trip and tells Sergei who’s like “idk what that is!”

-but Melvin is like “idc we have to go” cuz he wants to seem tough and cool

-so they show up and trip is like “the hell you doing here? 🤨” but they won’t leave so he’s like “ok whatever”

-Steve and Sergei fighting in the rumble is hilarious cuz Steve you could fight anyone and you go for the kid??

-but also everyone else fighting has beef so ig he had no one left to fight but Sergei

-we all know that Melvin has a huge crush on ace so of course that’s why they fight 🙄

-Melvin wore his favorite khakis to the rumble thinking “oh yeah ace is gonna think I look so hot in these 🥵” he’s so dumb I can’t-

-melvin and Sergei are such parters in crime tho- like they are each others best friend in everything they do and they will support each other no matter what (even if they, especially Melvin, will never really admit it)

-Sergei gives Melvin a hug one time and Melvin’s all like “what is this platonic affection… I love it….”

-he definitely opens up to Sergei about shit but he tries to play it super cool

-it’s giving that scene in grotpl when the t-birds are talking about their emotions and crying but pretending it’s just allergies or something

-like that’s sooo Melvin coded

-also Sergei definitely tries to emulate Melvin a lot of the time cuz he thinks he’s cool

-Melvin also lies about his height all the time

-he’s like “yeah man I’m 6’4” when in reality he’s like 5’4 and everyone knows it 😭

-sometimes he’ll be bragging about his height and Sergei will be like “but that’s not ur actual height….” Cuz he’s confused and Melvin gets so mad

-thing is Sergei is even shorter than Melvin so he think that 5’4 is tall and doesn’t get why Melvin would want to be any taller 😭

-the height headcanons are all inspired by @songbirdofthestreets thank youuuu

-anyways they’re both so dumb and that’s why I love them 💛

[urhoneycombwitch]

witch of ages, cleft for me [part I]

Eddie Munson x greenwitch!Reader Christmas edition.

foreword: new series alerrrrrt. self-inserty? MAYHAPS. I’ve endeavored to keep reader neutral enough for general x reader purposes while still givin’ her some flavour. please lmk if I need to update the cw to make things more clear. smut in later chapters planned so MDNI. happy readin'!

cw: weed mention, cussing, reader is given a nickname (Poppy), fem verbiage/motifs used for reader, R is a witch with a troubled home life, fluff, pov Eddie for part I.

wc: 3.8k

___

Christmas has never been Eddie’s favorite holiday.

When he was a kid, and his mom was still around, sure- he’d do the whole peppermint sticks in cocoa, snowman-making schtick, but that was ‘cuz his mom was his favorite person and, well, shit, he didn’t have any Scrooge-like tendencies back then. He was just a kid.

The lack of holiday cheer came later, settled in around teenage-dom, never quite left. Eddie can count on one hand the number of memorable Christmases he’s had, and this one sure won’t be added to the list.

Wayne had made a valiant effort that morning to distribute the cheer- holiday radio buzzing tinny over the stove while he flipped pancakes for the two of them. Didn’t even grouse at Eddie for taking a premature smoke break. Over breakfast, he’d slid a brown paper-wrapped parcel across the table and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Wayne,” Eddie teased, slamming a hand in the middle of his chest, syrupy palm sticking to the old band t-shirt he was wearing- “I thought we said no gifts. You’re going soft on me, old man.”

“Old man my ass,” Wayne had muttered, but Eddie was already tearing into the paper.

It was a killer gift. Special edition Tolkein, bound in red leather, gold lettering and vines curling around the sides. 

Eddie was stunned into silence as he turned the book over in his hands. Wayned tapped the edge of the chipped mug he held, thoughtfully. 

“You survived this year, boy. That’s something to celebrate.”

Clearing his throat that’d gone stuffy with emotion, Eddie flipped through the pages reverently. “Well, shit. I keep up my living streak and you get me a sword replica next year, that what you’re tellin’ me?”

Wayne had chuckled, then risen from the table to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

He’d offered to take Eddie along on his Christmas Day Drive (as he’d called it, which was actually just code for Wayne and his fishing buddies getting sloshed on schnapps in some dingy Hawkins living room), but Eddie had declined (assuring Wayne that no, actually, he wasn’t gonna be moping around the house- in fact, Steve’s throwing a party and he’s gonna go).

Which they both knew was code for Eddie staying home and getting high. Wayne took his time getting out the door, shuffling around the kitchen, instructing Eddie to eat something in his absence, finally taking off in that rickety excuse for a pickup just before noon.

Which suited Eddie fine. Really. He was sprawled out on the couch now, arms lax above his head, dozing catlike, thinking about lighting up one of those joints rolling around under his bed. Trying not to think about you.

And sure, yeah, maybe he stayed home ‘cuz he was hoping you’ll call. The holidays are making him sentimental, not pathetic. 

‘Kay, maybe a little pathetic.

You’d been over at the trailer last night, curled into his side on the couch while Wayne snoozed in the corner chair, It’s A Wonderful Life playing for no one in particular, when you’d told him quietly that you weren’t gonna be around the next day.

“You mean for Christmas?” He’d asked, rubbing a smooth path up and down your arm. “How come?”

Your fingers plucked a steady rhythm at one of his shirt buttons, head resting on his chest, so all he saw was the crown of your head while you explained. “I mean, I’d rather be here. With you and Wayne. It’s just… my dad asked me to hang out. And he never does, yanno? Least I can do is give my old man a few hours to try and make it up to me.”

Eddie was quiet for a bit. Even though you knew about his turbulent familial life (god knows he’d told you more about it than anyone else in his life- your fault for being such a goddamn good listener), he didn’t think a lecture about how disappointing fathers could be was quite appropriate. 

So he’d said “Sure, sweetheart, if that’s what you want,” and he’d kissed the top of your head, breathing in that earthy blend of cardamom and sweet mint that you’d tapped into your skin that morning, and you’d thanked him for understanding and gave him a kiss so soft he could’ve cried. 

You looked like you were going to cry, yourself, saying goodbye later that night in the doorway, backlit dreamily with soft streetlamps, arms wrapped tight around your frame to keep out the cold. 

He’d kissed you goodbye once, twice, got a little goofy with it and pressed quick manic kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your eyelids that were scrunched with amusement, as if he was trying to memorize your face with his lips.

“Just one day apart. We can do that, right?” He’d said, holding you at arm’s length, trying to assure himself just as much as you. 

Your eyes were misty underneath the rim of your knitted hat, but you’d nodded, hiding the tremble in your bottom lip with a brave tilt to your chin. “Just one day apart.” And with a final kiss, you set off down the snow-covered path, waving a red-mittened hand over your shoulder before getting into your car.

So you weren’t gonna call today, Eddie knew that. He’d have you tomorrow, curled in his lap with that strange herbal tea that you were always trying to get him into, and you’d tell him all about your holiday with your dad that you lived with but barely knew. 

Just one day apart. He could deal with that, right?

Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his face and turning belly-down into the couch. 

The thing is, he’s not the overbearing type. At least, he tries not to be. But when you meet the girl of your dreams under circumstances such as the end of the world, you tend to be a little more on the anxious side of things. 

Eddie can’t actually remember the last time you’ve spent more than a few hours at a time apart in the last four months; at first it was you playing nurse, tending to Eddie for weeks after the demobats had fucked him up, rotating from couch to makeshift floor-bed that was probably hell on your back. Not that you’d complained. 

Those days were a narcotic-fueled haze in Eddie’s memories; the first week he really only surfaced when he smelled the bergamot wafting from your neck each time you leaned over to change his dressings, or when he heard the gentle tinkling of those delicate flower chain earrings and stacks of thin silver bracelets you wore.

And then your time spent by his side just sort of naturally… evolved, along with your feelings for each other. He’d been crushing since high school on the starry-eyed, quiet little thing that sat behind him in Kaminsky’s class. The fact that you were rumored to be a witch really only encouraged his flirting by the day. 

You weren’t so easily enamored with him- not playing hard to get, necessarily, but you never seemed to have time for romance- what with your whole saving the world thing. Information that Eddie was now privy to, after all that Upside Down shit. 

Eddie would have happily taken his crush to the grave (nearly did, he has Dustin to thank for dragging his bony ass topside) if it meant keeping things between you both smooth. Because it was smooth, easy, as natural as breathing, being around you. The fact that you made the first move as soon as he was healed up (on this very couch, no less) was a dream come true. You’d basically attacked his mouth, a story he loves to drag up at the most torturous times just to see you light up with embarrassment before he kisses it better.

So now you wear one of his guitar picks on a chain around your neck and he spends his spare change on moody 70s cassettes to stock in his van for the midnight drives he loves to take you on; neither of you want to put a boyfriend/girlfriend label on each other ‘cuz it feels weirdly trite, for the amount of intimacy you’ve got going on. 

Belonging, though, that’s a phrase you’ve both used before, to each other. You’re mine. You belong to me. Said sweetly and chastely during backyard BBQ’s at the Harrington house, with possessive fierceness between open-mouthed kisses, whispered cozily under the cover of thin sheets and sprawling nights. 

He was your boy, for sure. You were his girl. And fuck’s sake was this day without you dragging its goddamn heels.

Eddie pounds a closed fist into the couch cushion, petulantly, then shoves himself up and off, the metal chains at his hip clinking with the sudden movement. He roots around in his bedside table drawer, then the top of his bureau where you stash your clothes sometimes- clothes that probably still smell like you. If he’s gonna be pathetic, mind as well be really pathetic, right?

Eddie’s just pulling out one of your lacy tanktops with a victorious fist pump when there’s a knock at the front door. If it’s carolers interrupting this pity-party, he’s gonna lose his shit.

But it’s not carolers. It’s Max Mayfield, red braids poking out of a green knit hat that he knows for a fact you made her last winter. She’s holding a blue tin of Danish butter cookies, customary scowl on her freckled face.

“You gonna let me in or make me freeze to death? Don’t think I won’t call child services on you, Munson.”

She ducks under Eddie’s arm, and he lets the door shut behind her with a bang. “Look, Red, Merry Christmas and all that but I’m really not in the mood to-”

Max holds out the tin, bracketed by her fuzzy mittens. “These are for you. My mom’s making me take some ’round to all the neighbors.”

Eddie pops the lid and is mildly surprised to find not the customary butter cookies but a neat stack of gingerbread people, with gumdrops for buttons and chocolate chip eyes peeking out from the wax paper. 

He lifts an eyebrow at the girl, who’s dripping melted snow into his carpet, and can’t help but tease. “These look like they took some effort, Red. You treat all your neighbors this nice?”

Max glowers again, crossing her arms best she can against the thick puff of her coat sleeves. 

Eddie bites the head off one of the cookies and points the desiccated corpse in her direction. “You want something, huh.”

“No,” Max says, a little too quickly, then sighs, and cranes her neck down the hallway. “Not from you, anyways. Where’s Poppy?”

Eddie flinches a little at the nickname the kids all use for you (an homage to the red lipstick you used to wear, or maybe it was the detention you got for getting caught with a jar of the seeds on school property freshman year, the story changes each time he asks) and drops the partially-eaten cookie back in the box. “She’s not here today.”

“She’s here every day,” Max counters, still looking down the hallway hopefully.

“Trust me, I wish I was lying to you,” Eddie continues, snapping the tin closed and setting it on the kitchen counter. “She’s with her dad for Christmas.”

“Poppy is willingly spending time… with her dad… for Christmas?” Max repeats the information slowly, as if she thinks Eddie is not so bright.

He lets his silence and return scowl do the talking for him. Max stamps in place, knocking more snow onto the carpet, annoyance rolling into uncomfortability. “Uh. Okay. Well… I guess I’ll just… ride my bike to the party across town. In this blizzard,” she tacks on, pointedly.

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie drums his fingers against the countertop. It’s hardly a blizzard, and there’s less than an inch of snow on the ground, but he knows what you’d do, if you were here, which you usually are.

“Goddammit,” Eddie cusses, before snatching his keys off the hook behind Max’s head and stuffing his arms into his thermal flannel, muttering, “If she wasn’t actively making me a better person, you’d be a popsicle, Red.”

___

On the drive to Steve’s, Max pokes around in the dash and complains about the lack of Kate Bush before settling on a Fleetwood Mac tape and shoving it into the deck. 

Stevie Nicks croons Rihannon over the speakers, and Eddie thinks maybe he’ll get a few minutes of peace and quiet but no such luck. He’s making a slow turn onto the main road when Max asks, “What’s this?”

Eddie fights the urge to snatch the crushed velvet jewelry box out of Max’s mittened grasp and stares resolutely at the road. “I’m trying not to spin out and kill us in a fiery wreck, kid, would ya put that back where you found it?”

She bumps the dash compartment closed with her knee. “Someone’s testy today. Is it for Poppy?”

“Yes,” Eddie grits out, white-knuckling the wheel. “Christ, Max, you’re like the annoying little sister I never asked for. Would you put it-”

There’s a quiet snick as Max ignores him and opens the box. “C’mon, don’t you want a lady’s opinion?”

“Lady, my ass,” Eddie mutters. It’s pretty quiet in the passenger seat area all of a sudden, and he forces his gaze to stay safely on the snowy road as he asks, “Well?”

“Cute,” Max muses. She lifts the delicate chain from the box, the charm at the end swinging like a pendulum with the movement of the van. “A little on the nose, though, don’tcha think?”

Eddie was afraid of that. But when he saw the tiny poppy in perfect cast silver at a jewelry store on his big city excursion last month, he couldn’t help it. His girl makes him all sorts of mushy.

“Put it back,” he tells Max again, the fight going out of his voice, and she complies, this time, reaching out to pat his shoulder after reassembling the box.

“Don’t worry. Girls go crazy for that cheesy shit. Especially if they’re in love,” she says, sagely, gloved fingers absently playing with the gold heart locket around her own neck. 

“Uh huh,” Eddie says, with a pointed grin aimed sideways at the girl.

“Shut up.” Max flushes beet red, then reaches for the volume dial and cranks Stevie up to ten.

___

The Harrington house is a flurry of activity, apparently chosen as the main hub for the Gang and their various extensions. Mrs. Byers chirrups a hello as he passes the kitchen, Nancy waving a wooden spoon in greeting. There’s a cheer from the group of boys in various states of sprawl over a board game on the living room floor when Eddie clomps in, Max practically shoulder-checking him on her way to Lucas’s side. 

If anything, this party will be a welcome distraction from the silence that is his trailer without you. Eddie figures he’ll hang around for a bit, help eat up some of Harrington’s fancy holiday food, and dip into his weed reserves (that lacy tanktop of yours on his mind) before the bell tolls six.

After giving a dorky salute to his Hellfire kiddos, Eddie drops into the last available couch cushion: next to Argyle (silk black hair adorned with a pair of reindeer antlers), who turns sleepily and gives him a weed-laced lazy smile. 

“Heyyyy, brochacho. Where’s your girl? I still owe her some cold hard cash money for those morels,” Argyle says.

“She isn’t here.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe this party won’t be a good distraction after all, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wanna keep bringing you up anyways. “What the hell are morels?”

“Mushrooms!” Jonathan pipes up from the end of the couch. Judging by the red eyes, he’s just as gone as Argyle. 

Eddie isn’t judging. Christmas is hell without the help of weed and pretty girls.

“Yeah, dude, mushrooms.” Argyle slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, talking over the raucous noise of the kids engaged in a tense game of Monopoly a few feet away. “She’s a wicked good forager. Better than my mushroom guy back in Cali by a loooong shot.”

“Morels are the ones that look like brains,” Jonathan says, focused on his attempt at a house made of paper money on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Brains,” Argyle confirms. This seems to set Jon off in a fit of giggles, and then Argyle starts up, snickering into his closed fist, and the sight is almost enough to get Eddie to crack a smile when Steve Harrington appears in the archway.

“Uh oh,” Jonathan says, practically spasmodic at this point, “His hands are on his hips. That means he’s pissed about something.”

“Would you chuckleheads knock it off?” Steve snaps, hands still set on his hips in prissy little fists when he rounds on Eddie. “And seriously, man, you couldn’t’ve waited until the afterparty to get them stoned?”

“What, you think I did this?” Eddie gasps in faux shock. “I’m real hurt, Stevie, that you think these fine established gentlemen would need my help in getting their hands on good kush.”

This sets the boys on the couch off into conniptions again, this time Dustin barking at them to “Keep it down, assholes, we’re getting cutthroat over here,” and Nancy calls out “Language!” from the kitchen, which has Mike yelling back at her, and Eddie is just starting to enjoy himself when Steve whips the towel previously over his broad shoulder at Eddie’s face.

“If you’re done wreaking havoc here there’s someone on the landline for you,” Steve says, bending down to wipe crumbs from the coffee table.

That wipes the smirk off Eddie’s face. He sits up ramrod straight. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” Steve shoots back, and then shouts at the board game group, “ALL right, which one of you little shits spilled orange soda on the rug?”

There’s a return yell of “LANGUAGE” from the kitchen as Eddie hustles down the hall, the noise of the party fading as he reaches the mounted wall phone. He nearly pulls the cord from its socket in his haste to get the receiver to his ear- “Shit- hello?”

“Hi, Eddie.” 

Eddie sags against the wall, letting his head tip back, eyes closed all the better to savor your voice- “Sweetheart. Thank god. I was dyin’ out here. Say my name again, would ya?”

“Eddie,” you laugh, and it’s chiding, but he doesn’t care, too flush with relief at hearing from you.

“How’s this nightmare of a holiday treatin’ my girl, hm?” he asks, settling the phone into the crook of his shoulder. If he had it his way, there’d be technology to laserbeam your voice permanently into his eardrums. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh down the line. “I tried calling you at the trailer first, then when it kept ringing I figured you were at Steve’s party.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m at Steve’s. You want me to come pick you up?” Eddie brightens at the idea, warming up to it the more he talks. “I mean, I’d keep you all to myself, but it’s Christmas and I’m feeling generous. All anyone’s asked about so far is where the hell my girl is at.”

“That’s sweet,” you reply, and Eddie thinks you sound a little distant, a little… off, somehow. “No, that’s okay. I’m not in a partying mood. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

“Well you have it, sugar,” Eddie purrs. “You want me to read to you? There’s a real slick copy of the phone book hangin’ right next to me. Could really get you going.”

Eddie’s only partly joking. He’d happily read the yellow pages to you until his voice gave out if it meant keeping you on the line for a little longer.

He can picture you so clearly in his head- sitting pretty in that bay window, sock feet tucked under your thighs, twirling the phone cord around your fingers in anxious little twists as you speak softly- “That’s okay, Eds. You enjoy the party, okay? I’ll come by the trailer tomorrow morning with your gift.”

“Sure,” he replies, a little deflated. 

After saying his goodbyes, he hangs the phone back on the hook and returns to his spot on the couch, leg bouncing a frenzied beat amid the chaos.

He lasts about three minutes like this, which he feels is more than generous.

As he’s sliding his arms back into his green fleeced flannel, there are a few jeers from the peanut gallery about how “Eddie’s going to suck some face with his girlfriend”, which earns the room a halfhearted and generalized middle finger. 

Mrs. Byers stops him in the hallway, but it’s just to hand him two cling-wrapped plates of food with a warm, knowing sort of look about her.

And then Eddie’s off into the night to see his girl. 

___

for more greenwitch! content: hands of love

[khunyuki]

soshiro and kagami deprive hours

Sorry it took a while, anon! Ermm... i'm not quite sure if i'm answering this correctly but it's 🔞, right? If so, i'll be giving my own interpretation on this so I hope you like it!

So you guys already know how Soshiro and Kagami got engaged at an early age right? That means they've probably gotten a lot of bridal/groom lessons already (especially for matters in bed😉).

We can say that in their relationship, Soshiro was the first person to develop the feeling that made him sexually attracted to his partner. This man has been deprived of that type of affection and was sexually frustrated ever since he was a middle schooler until their current ages y'know! He's practically a saint from the amount of self control he shows whenever he's with her😩. That's why this guy decided to be a fuckin' bully🤭

From the very start, Kagami knows what she's supposed to do if Soshiro ever initiates intimate contact with her. This girl would let him to whatever he wants to do with her if he just made the first move but there's actually a big problem... Nobody told her about sexual innuendos so she doesn't really know how to take a hint even when he does insinuate😭 She's also has a pretty old-fashioned way of thinking where boys must make the first move always. That's why she never really had sexual fantasies cuz she's only focused on getting married to him, on her career, on her family, and making sure her mental health doesn't try to jeopardize her life.

So I guess this is where the deprive hours starts? After their first time, these two must've done it multiple times already. Soshiro likes teasing her, and he also like experimenting, so he tries to think of many ways to spice things up. It starts from changing positions to find their favorites, to doing it anywhere in their apartment, to using various toys. He prioritizes pleasuring her and vice versa but sometimes, it just wasn't enough. They always want more of each other🤭 Depriving her did cross his mind but never did he act on it until he got jealous once more.

By depriving Kagami, Soshiro was also depriving himself but this man is a saint and has been controlling his desires for years, so he can do it for longer. When Soshiro starts his plan, he knew he'd be very entertained. Her reactions always amuse him when he's teasing her normally but what if he's teasing her sexually? How exactly would she react and how long would it take before she couldn't take it anymore? Soshiro couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation.

For starters, Kagami would be very confused when he starts leaning close to her, she'd close her eyes expecting a kiss, when he was just actually reaching for something. He would be telling her a story about the outing he was invited to by the Third Division when his hands start to subtly touch her thighs and breast before removing it once she starts to squirm, smiling innocently. Then they'd be having a heated make out session on the bed but before things could escalate, he'd be turning off the lights and telling her goodnight, leaving her hot and bothered. Kagami would be receiving dirty text massages from him saying how much he loves her and what exactly he wants to do to her when they meet, making her aroused the entire day before heading home to see him just his usual self. When they see each other at work, if either visits, he'll find a way to get close to her to whisper some very scandalous stuffs to say in public then leave her so flustered. These are only a few examples cuz he definitely did a lot more than this🤭

She would probably last for about a month or two before she snaps and tells him to stop. It didn't get to her at first but from the amount of times it happened during that timespan, it definitely wasn't a coincidence. Now, there's two ways that could happen here.

First, She'd be all pouty and whiny but if he still decided to play innocent, she'd be the one making the move by dragging him to their bed and stripping him. Her arm strength is one of the strongest so he wouldn't be able to move even if he wanted to. She'd tell him just how mean and unfair he is, as she sucks him dry, licking the tips, massaging his balls, and taking everything she could in her mouth. Then she'd ride him while complaining about him over and over as he tries to hide his grunts from how amazing she felt like that. He's not one to take a defeat and he could take charge in the middle but he'd definitely let her do him like that again if he gets to see her frustrated yet elated face as she bounces up and down on his dick.

Second, he still tries to play innocent but she's only at the borderline of snapping since she just suggested to sleep in separate rooms that night due to how upset she was. That made him feel guilty and he tries to make it up to her but got the door slammed on his face. He decided he'd just sneak beside her later then once he thought she's fallen asleep, he hears something inside. It was quiet but he would hear squelching and her calling his name in a low voice. He never opened a door so fast to see her touching herself, making her surprised as she thought he was asleep. He'd punish her for touching herself without permission then edge her. He still hadn't forgotten his task at hand, he'd bring her to the edge over and over and over again until she couldn't take it anymore. She's be in tears begging him to finally let her release and he will. He'd overstimulate her after edging her for so long.

And the rest is up to your imaginations~

If you ask him, will he do this again? Maybe😏

[quillinhand]

i’m a very curious little mouse so if you’re writing anything for the writing ask:

who is your favorite character that you’ve written about so far but also who is your LEAST favorite character?

and also what is your favorite scene that you’ve written??

💕💕💕💕

Hi! Thank you so much for asking!

Favorite character has to be Jongwoo; I have like six different sfh stories that I started and I'm so invested in them solely cuz of Jongwoo bro. He's so interesting in that he is really dark and messed up and has a desire for violence just like moonjo does, but he's also kind and soft and empathetic yk??? so comes this idea of nature vs nurture; that jongwoo's violence stems from his trauma and that he's a product of his surroundings; eden and his workplace. but we also see that it isn't exactly like that: he's fucked up long before he landed in Seoul. he's fucked up when he beats up that guy in the military, and he's always been quick to anger and a bit self centered and genuinely does want to hurt people.

I was actually watching the first episode again and now that I know how the ending fight goes; it's so interesting to me that even in the very beginning, one of the first shots we see is yoon jongwoo looking scared at the door, afraid of an external predator. then we get him being thrown against the door and into the hallway FROM inside and that's so interesting to me. ofc now I know it's moonjo who does that after they go into a different room and desk slamming happens-- but right from the beginning, we're already informed that jongwoo's most terrifying monster is within himself and that's so fascinating to me. For Jongwoo, hell is other people, but they're so terrifying to him especially because they're a reflection of the hell within himself. He's so lonely and he's so angry and he's so perfect for everything moonjo wants. it's so twisted it drives me crazy. moonjo really had his masterpiece ready to be molded.

least favorite character is harry potter not because I hate harry but because in the fic I'm writing, he's supposed to be a kid. Like, ten years old, turning eleven. I cannot write children. I don't think I was capable of writing children even when I was a child, which makes it extra hard and horrible. I have like fifteen chapters that I scrapped because I hated how much it sounded like an middle aged man and not like child.

Favorite scene: hmm, it's hard, but I'd have to say a scene from one of my unpublished sfh stories-it's a groundhog's day thing where Jongwoo's feeling all sorts of deja vu but can't figure out why. So he recognizes Moonjo to a certain level and is simultaneously scared of him and furious at him, but he doesn't know why. The first time he sees him, he runs away, and the second time, he punches him. Third time, it's Moonjo who finds him and that's my favorite scene. It's long and I can't fit it on an already long post, but I think I specifically like this part:

He cradles his head in his hands, pressure building low and fiery in his neck. It was a mistake, he thinks. He shouldn't have come here. He should've begged Jaeho for a place to stay, begged Jieun to let him stay for the night. Shouldn't have come to this city in the first place.  Moonjo- it must have been Moonjo, there's no one else- presses thin fingers to the muscles of his neck. “Don't touch me,” Jongwoo hisses. The hand leaves his skin, but hovers, its presence a pressure of its own. What do you want? Jongwoo wants to roar. What does Jongwoo want, anyways? Why didn't he leave again, the second he saw the man? Why is he still here? He has his phone. He has his things. He could go. Back to Busan for all he cares– but the memory of long quiet days in the oppressive loneliness of home visits him, a distant memory that feels as vivid as reality somehow. Jongwoo wants to go home. Jongwoo doesn't think he's ever been in a home worthy of yearning, though.

[rah-nee-yah]

my thoughts on act 2:

im being so deadass i think ep6 is my fave in all of the show. its just nice seeing vi and jinx being sisters. istg if one of them dies…i really hope their dynamic will be like the one in those league comic thingies.

also CAITVI NATION IS SO BACK. love love loved seeing them together again. i do wish vi was colder to caitlyn when meeting her instead of calling her cupcake. but hey its been like three years since weve last seen vi call her cupcake so a win is a win. theyre definitely gonna bang next act, i think ep 8.

WTF JAYCE. EVERYTHING WAS GOING SO WELL. what did he see in there?? ik everyone is gonna hate him but im excited to see where hes gonna go from here.

and isha. just thinking about her makes me tear up😭😭 im gonna keep this brief so i dont start sobbing AGAIN but i miss her already. then again…we didnt actually see her die so maybe…(im delusional pls help)

AND THE FACT THEY GOT VANDER BACK FOR LIEK FIVE MINUTES. IT WAS ALL ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY DUDE.

anyways viktor is totes coming back and i think he may be involved in getting mel out of the black rose. also i think she’s pregnant. maybe. just a little

in terms of criticism i really would have loved to see vi actually pit fighting. i think the main problem was that we already saw the pit fighting scene like two months ago so it didnt hit as hard because that scene really did emphasize what vi was going through so seeing it again just didnt hit as hard. thats just me tho.

in terms of pacing, i honestly have no complaints. i liked it. it felt similar to season one but that could just be me. i like fast paced things sooo yeah. i also love how all the characters converged in ep 6 which kind of tidied some stuff up. still would have preferred longer episodes but animation is expensive and takes a shit ton of time so i understand.

but my main complaint is WHERE IS EKKO⁉️⁉️ THAT MAN HAS NOT BEEN SEEN SINCE THE MIDDLE AGES. since s1e7 was ekko’s, i think ep 7 is gonna be centered around him returning to zaun and meeting all the other characters again…with timebomb sprinkled in. cuz jinx needs some support. i also think ep7 may be a party episode sooo yeah.

anyways i loved this act. it might be my favorite from the entire series but we’ll see.

[vampir3sfall]

ineffable husbands hcs cuz they r infecting my brain -

azi always takes off crowleys glasses when he comes in the shop, and absolutely refuses to let him put them back on unless they are going outside

azi always loses everything, and crowley finds them for it

crowley takes the right side of the bed (closer to the wall so its snuggly) and aziraphale takes the left (bigger nightstand + closer to the bathroom)

aziraphale brought home a tabby cat he found on the side of the street one day. crowley argued about it for hours until aziraphale gave him the silent treatment for all of five minutes.

the cats name is Lucy. Crowley says that it is short for Lucifer, Azi says its short for Lucille. Lucy knows that she just looks like a Lucy.

crowley didn't like Lucy at first because she thought Lucy would steal azira's attention away from her. on the second day, Lucy batted a glass of a shelf and broke it, and since then crowley and her have been best friends.

crowley sometimes goes into cat form to play with lucy, and lucy is smart enough to know never to touch crowley's plants (what a smart kitty)

crowley loves horror movies and aziraphale loves romance, but most of the time they both watch romance movies because crowley complains about the unrealistic demons, possessions and zombies more then he complains about annoying straight people

for the first few weeks (months if we are being fr) after they got back together, crowley wouldn't let aziraphale out of her sight. she would follow him into the bathroom if she could (but angels dont often have to piss)

one night she woke up when azira had gone downstairs to get a glass of water, and curled into snake form and started hissing and thrashing violently. it took azi half an hour to calm her down after that

aziraphale can't cook for shit. shes tried, but she really just can't. she burns everything she tries to cook. on the other hand, her baking is literally heavenly. she often makes sweet things to sell at Nina's shop

crowley does all the cooking in their relationship, and azi buys her a bunch of stupid aprons to cook with (kiss the cook, no bitchen in my kitchen, what's cookin good lookin, ect). crowley's favorite thing to make is anything that is meat that she gets to cut up

aziraphel's favorite color is yellow because she loves crowleys eyes (obvi)

crowley's favorite color is red, but her second favorite color is green because she loves the earth and living things. plus it is the same color as the plants

unless asked otherwise, azi always calls crowley her wife. it is very funny when aziraphale goes 'this is my wife! ^.^' and show you a person who is presenting as the most divorced, alcoholic middle aged man possible

contrary to popular opinion, crowley does not hate children. (she was warlock's nanny for like 6 years). however, she does hate babies. what the fuck are you supposed to do with a baby.

aziraphale loves babies, and thinks that they are the greatest thing on earth. she also likes children, but never really responds to the things that they say correctly

after they got back together, crowley never initiated physical contact with azi because she was still so distraught about getting rejected after the kiss. it took a while until she got so sad and drove aziraphale insane because they finally had everything so WHY DIDN'T SHE TOUCH HIM. eventually, aziraphale begged and crowley gave in because what else would they do

crowley has gotten close to people a select few times in history, but nothing ever came of it. why would it? none of them are aziraphale

while she did get very close to freddie mercury, their relationship consisted of them being gay, drinking together, and occasionally talking about their respective love lives. when freddie found out he had aids, he told crowley that he hoped to see him in the next life. crowley was distraught for three years after that, because she knew she would really never see freddie again

aziraphale has also gotten people who are very attracted to her beacuse of her angelic nature, but again, nothing has come from it. why should it? they have (almost) all they need with crowley

every night, before they go to bed, they both (brush?? comb?? preen??) fix eachother's wings

aziraphale gets up early every morning, and makes tea for herself and coffee for crowley. they have one of those instant coffee machines (you put the little pill in it and it spits out espresso i forgor whats its called) and they both regularly say that it is the best thing that humanity has ever created

no one tell crowley about energy drinks

[skullbowz]

General!Ticci Toby HCs. . .

This took longer than expected . . Read till the end for a lil blurb <3 reminder ! English isn’t my first language.

—Clothing;

It depends on how old Toby is.. at first he only wore the clothes Slenderman “found” him in and whatever other articles of clothing he was able to scavenge up. It wasn’t until a few years later he felt safe enough to venture out and buy some clothes from the thrift. (with stolen money cuz bitch don’t get paid to be a lumberjack,,, a human lumberjack that is.)

I’m so bad at describing; just think of Will Graham's season 1 outfit n shit. 😭 I feel like he’d probably dress like a grandpa. Oversized Grandpa sweaters, those button-ups/dress shirts under w collars that peep out, any baggy pants in general. Work/toe steel boots >> .

He just doesn’t bother much w dressing up! It’s also so he doesn’t stand out much whenever trying to go somewhere in public — sometimes he’d get lucky and find band tees of bands he likes or Jeff lets him borrow some of his own.

—music;

A firm believer that he loves metal. Something about the chaotic-icy helps him “soothe the voices.” his favorite bands would be Sevendust, Rammstein, and Lamb of god!

Once when he was on a mission he accidentally broke into the wrong house and lucky him it was a middle-aged white dad who had a thing for 2000s rock and metal. Killed that fucker and stole as many albums and CDs as he possibly could :p.

He’d DIY a bunch of studded leather bracelets and give a few away to Natalie and Jeffery. Gifting is his love language tbh

—interests;

Most residents of the manor (when he ‘lived’ there) don’t/didn’t know much about Toby since he doesn’t bother socializing much. He seems pretty disinterested to the rest but the dude really has some great hobbies and things he enjoys. For one he loves crafting, especially wood carving! He also has a habit of collecting animal bones/remains to clean and use them as decor. His favorites prob have to be fox skulls :). Very much a trinket collector as well. Just a odd man :3

Besides hobbies, oddly enough he enjoys Sanrio-related things—specifically cinnamon roll. (Since it’s the only character he knows,) he will convince you that the cinnamoroll is a bunny, not a dog. He refuses to accept that the little cartoon character is not a bunny as he first assumed. Of course he likes music music,, he’s given poetry a chance, isn’t the great at it but really enjoys it!

—Biography;

Toby is Dominican-German. His mom was Dominican while his dad was German! He’s fluent in Spanish and somewhat broken German. Around 5’9 to 6’0 foot tall. Late teens and early twenties he was more scrawny than anything but after 13 years of labor and trying to survive he obv grew some muscle mass and like… isn’t built like a 17-year-old boy idfk. Ofc, he was born on April 28th 1994. Toby grew up in more southern states (specifically Alabama) and has a slighht southern accent.

—Proxy experiences;

Toby is a runaway proxy; one of the very few that managed to escape Slendermans (or the operators, depending on which) grasp. Though he isn’t exactly safe cuz of this, If he gets too close to the terrority of Slenderman or the operator he starts developing symptoms and illness. Course the main being static n amnesia, waking up in random places covered in blood, etc. Toby can’t feel pain so the static doesn’t cause immense headaches but it’s dangerous for that exact reason; he can never tell when his nose starts to bleed or his ears rupture.

Toby only got involved with the operator in his later years (maybe around midish late 20’s) when he was in the minced of escaping Slenderman, and just so happened to meet Tim Wight. He spiraled into a REDACTED hell hole from there.

—Love interest(s) ?;

Oh boy, , it really depends on how quirky im feeling. Ticciwork and TicciJeff tbh. He loves ppl with no sanity 🫶🫶 Thankfully Jeff isn’t involved with Slender because he’s too much of a loose cannon to be controlled, much like EJ, the rake, seed, smile, grinny, etc. and Slenderman doesn’t take interest in Clockwork but since she has connections with some of slendermans valuable tyrants and or proxies, the entity leaves her be.

Jeff was the one to help Toby escape slenderman, and snapped him out of his “devotion” era. Clock is just amazing girlfriend and always there for him :p.

extra . . . .

[ REDACTED ! ! ]

This Deja vu feeling haunts him. He doesn’t understand why he’s being searched for. Why do the cops know who he is? Why is he? Who was he?

Childhood didn’t exist. Was he always grown ?

Why is it when he passes down that neighborhood, it feels so nostalgic . Nothing left but ashes and decaying foundations of homes, homes that were once were preoccupied by happy families. He call still smell the remains of the burnt buildings. Strange. It’s like he could never forget.

Jeff always went quiet whenever they were talking and the topic of this neighborhood was brought up, does he know something the EX proxy doesn’t?

What’s more confusing is that fateful night with Natalie, he found himself driving down a dark road that one night. It shared similar sentiment much like the abandoned neighborhood, only much more sinister. He was with Clocky, Pretty brunette with a clock for one eye,, the other an odd emerald green. Over time, the twitchy man taught himself to read clocks just so he wouldn’t have to check his phone for the time. Natalie’s eye always went tick tock, tick tock.

It was only him and Nat against the world at that moment,, so who was the mauled looking blonde in his rear view window? Sitting in the back of his car as well, it was strange. Jeff usually hoarded up the back seats. . He wouldn’t share it with a victim.

But it isn’t just a victim. Toby found himself struggling to catch his breath, who is she? Nat. It’s not Nat. It’s not Jeff. It’s just some blonde girl. A young adult that resembles someone he doesn’t know. Does he know ? ? ?

Who is she?

What was once a soft and familiar safe touch was now ghostly and evocative ? ?

Everything is blurry around him. He doesn’t hear her asking if he’s okay.

He doesn’t feel her cold touch, her hand covering his on the steering wheel.

One moment he’s on the road

The next he’s out cold

.

What caused him to swerve into that tree ?

Why did he put their lives at risk ?

.

Panting. He heard harsh panting. Was that him? Was that her? His hands were completely thrown off the steering wheel and replaced with paler, somewhat smaller ones. Not so gentle though. Something warm was dripping down from his nose. Metallic scent wafted and clogged his nostrils. He licked his lips and wasn’t surprised to be met with blood - he looked in the rear view mirror - NO BLONDIE IN SIGHT

He looked out the window. Did he just barely manage to swerve away from that tree? No. He didn’t save their lives. He looked to his right. A singular green eye met his. She’s unharmed, unlike REDACTED but shooken up. What brought him back to his senses was that familiar disoriented voice.

“Toby, what the fuck ??”

[princess-of-the-corner]

I did not check other people's tumblrs for like a week and just caught up on all the Princess Bee stuff! Sorry for the anon shyness, but I have a couple of things:

1. You mind if I draw these suckers and send em to you? Cuz now I really wanna draw the next gen kids, Chester Fester, and timeskip designs for everybody.

2. Holy shit, this is a fun premise! I especially love that Chloe is a lawyer! Like, she'd be so good at it, especially with the way you write her (which is the default Chloe in my brain, tbh). You already have her run the merch department. Her dad is the freaking mayor, even if he is a bad one. She's already really good at knowing which authority can override what and when, she's good at working the system and knowing when it's screwed up, and she's got a helluva sense of justice after all the shit she's been through.

2. Some stuff with Lila: I know it was decided that she was gonna do a grand scheme where she got her petty revenge on Ladybug, but then Ladybug didn't show up after the first few akumas cuz the wish said so, and so she kinda just fucked off for a bit to do lowkey cons using the butterfly. When she sees the new EmmaBug, it brings up unaddressed trauma and she zooms back to Paris and starts being a Problem TM. But, like, what is actually her plan? She's going after the miraculous, but what does she want to do with them? What'll her wish be? I know she doesn't really care about the shit that went down with the Miracuclass anymore (she did get exposed). But she is still real bothered by Ladybug, but we also kinda established that she doesn't really know what she wants. So what are Lila's plans?

3. Thoughts on establishing a rogues gallery:

You said you wanted the main focus to be akuma, so why not have a handful of regularly occurring akumas instead of a new one every time? We've already got Chester as Lila's right-hand man, even if he is gonna be a bit of an inneffectual, comedic, Mr. Pigeon-esque akuma. Why not have Lila amass several other allies to regularly akumatize who want in on whatever she's up to. Lila can be very charming and has been doing on and off cons for like 20+ years. Odds are, she's met some pissed of people willing to do some shady shit to get what they want. Lila was also very much willing to use Chloe for her bullshit back in the day, so she could also maybe manipulate some people into helping her out, especially if you want more kid akumas.

I also think it would be cool if you had a handful of other "rogues" who are unrelated to Lila and aren't actively villainous so much as they are assholes that cause issues. Like, Chloe's enemies from lawyering, some of Jess and Zoe's problems from NYC, the creepy boy who was uncomfortably hitting on Emma and ended out getting Dawn landed in the principal's office in the first place, the previously discussed Chief of Police. Etc.

4. I really like the idea of the kids all being roughly the same age, but a couple years apart. It allows for shenanigans like Hugo and the other younger kids having an awkward gang of middle school pals who know nothing about this shit, shipping the heroes, writing fanfics, giving unsolicited bad advice, etc. And it lets some of the kids be older, more mature, more experienced, and act as mentors to their middle child leader. Kinda how Luka worked for the OGs, but you have more of them with different personalities. Kinda like how digimon adventure had the kids mostly the same age but a little spread out across a few grades.

5. Give Hugo or Louis the horse. That would be a really obvious one to take out for a joyride, and they'd get attached to Kaalki.

That's all for now, ngl, this might be my favorite non HC/LL for Miraculous that you've done (followed up by the double trouble one because sonic jokes).

Welcome back! Okay so

1.) Go for it! Just yeet me a link because I'm bad at remembering to check if I've been tagged in things!

2.) Chloé as a lawyer is honestly my favorite post-canon job for her. That and/or running the hotel. Just put her whole skillset into being used for good

2.5) So Lila! I'm being sympathetic to her instead of making her full evil. Like she's still going to be causing Akumas and also a con artist so morally gray, but not like. Season 4-5 Gabe.

Which has resulted in her motivation being a touch nebulous. In that... Ya girl has been rolling with a lot of depression that she doesn't realize is 'depression' because fuck man what does she have to be 'depressed' about? So she just feels like nothing is 'enough' to make her happy and must find something out there that can 'fix' her.

Seeing the 'Ladybug Returns' both kinda gets in her head of as much she acknowledges her grudge with LB was petty teen stuff, it is unresolved business. And that may make her feel better. However, barring that, the Wish would do whatever she wants. It could 'fix' her. Give her whatever she needs to not feel this hollow emptiness in her chest 24/7.

3.) Honestly having all sorts of nonsense to be problems is GREAT.

4.) Yeah I haven't established much on their ages other than Emma and Louis are twins while Hugo is roughly a year and a half younger (so a grade down). I doubt I'd have everyone in the same class, but the whole group are still friends due to knowing each other for years.

5.) Ha! I'm thinking Louis with the Horse now.

[sneef-to-a-snorf-fight]

Totally Spies! S1 E5-10 Tier

Alright so. Yeah the show is not getting better. I am optimistic that it will get better in later seasons. Ok let's go this is gonna be a long one. Here's the current tier.

As a lil reminder, I'm watching this with my girlfriend Ivy (@twigsprout) to definitively find the worst Totally Spies! episode. This show is notorious for showing teenage girls in very horny situations.

I'm not optimistic that the top tier will ever have anything in it. "Abductions" almost made it but the last 5 minutes took a big turn for the worse.

I'll also note that this show is skewing my sense of normal. I almost put the episode "Spy Gladiators" into the "ok sure fine i guess" category. Luckily Ivy reminded me that a middle aged man with a jock fetish putting a mind control collar on a teenage girl to force her to be a gladiator is not in fact normal.

Anyway here's some notes.

The Eraser: blobs attach to people's faces and erase their memories, sam got gooped and brain erased*, very horny wording for the hatching of the goop??, characters shackled and collared again**

The Fugitives: guy makes clones of the main 3 and does crimes, the main 3's guardian finds out and says he's going to "reprogram" them with his lobotomy machine***, favorite quote "i'm so sorry i tried to lobotomize you"

Abductions: drowning/breathplay, trapped in a glass thingy, brain sucking, gross kid brain getting so big it almost explodes???????????

Model Citizens: some weirdos kidnap girls and forcibly swap their body parts with their own models' to make "perfect beauties," some mild inflation? (does it count if they just wear suits that inflate? i doubt it but i wrote it anyway), Clover gets big legs and sits on villain to stop him from getting away

Spy Gladiators: see the collar thing i wrote above, also the guy keeps prisoners and keeps them shackled to workout equipment in his dungeon to "keep his island running" but honestly i think he's just harvesting and drinking their sweat or something

*So at this point, Ivy and I decided to start a tally for how many times the theme of an episode involves brainwiping/hypnotizing/etc as well as a separate tally for how many times one of the main 3 gets brainwiped/hypnotized/etc. SO!

Current Brain-fuck count: 6 (out of 10 episodes!)

Sam: 3

Clover: 1

Alex: 0

**We also decided to keep a tally for how many times characters are collared. Cuz it just keeps happening.

Collar Count: 3

***Ok so. When we got to this part I started theorizing. Jerry doesn't hesitate to try to reprogram the girls as soon as he thinks they're acting up. That got me thinking: what if he already programmed them before? What if that's the reason the characters are so one-dimensional? I mean. I know it's just because the writers just didn't know how to give the girls any personality beyond "girl" but. In the canon of the show, it's kinda make sense if he gave the girls (who I'm pretty sure are orphans that WOOHP adopted and forced to work as spies for free?) just enough skills to be spies and high school students but no brain power beyond that so they can't rise up against him.

Actually. This is just the bimbo show. Whatever.

Anyway, once again, this show could be so iconic if it wasn't So Bad. Like. The aesthetic of everything. I mean. There's a moment in episode 6 where they're about to do this really important mission but then Clover is like "WAIT!!! I forgot my new sunglasses at my house and I'm not going anywhere without them" and so WOOHP send the girls in a helicopter to get her sunglasses before going to save the world from bimbo slimes or whatever. like. That's iconic!!!

To paraphrase Ivy, "It's such a cool idea to just do James Bond but with 3 high school girls from y2k ass Beverly Hills." It could be so good but it's just. not. I really hope the new stuff is better. I have a lot of hope for the new season coming out.

Also, on the whole character thing. Episode 10 feels like they might be starting to give Alex her own character maybe finally? Only barely tho idk.

Also, for a second I thought 9/11 didn't happen in this universe cuz I saw the twin towers but. They made that episode before 9/11 even though it came out a less than a month after 9/11 in France (over a year later in the US). And also the girls crash a plane into a building.

Anyway 16 episodes left in Season 1!

[generalzar0ff]

Most of this was drawn in September of last year, but I decided to finally complete it!

So, here are the penguins of Madagascar and their lemur friends as humans!

I know this has been done to death already, but I wanted to provide my own interpretation. I’ll provide my design choices for each character under the cut, if anybody’s interested!

Skipper: I do not want to throw shade to anyone, but most of the human Skippers I’ve seen are either too young, too skinny, or too muscular. This guy may present himself as an authority figure, but let’s face it: this guy is your average middle-aged man with a fascination for cool spy stuff and repressed bisexuality. Trust me, my dad knows all about it. Anyway, I gave him a tacky nautical flag shirt, mostly because i couldn’t find any high-quality “hawaiian shirt with wwii planes” patterns. If it weren’t for King Julien’s design, I would’ve given Skipper aviators.

Kowalski: Typical nerdy guy. When I was showing a work in progress of the penguins, a friend of mine suggested that Kowalski’s hairline should be extra receded, and they were right. I know that this is the simplest design, but that’s because this guy just doesn’t seem the type for style. More of a practicality and formality guy. I suppose now’s a good time to mention that each of the brothers has an element of orange around their feet, cuz, well, the penguins have orange feet.

Rico: I really hope you guys get the energy that this guy listens to nu-metal. Since human beings not infused with cartoon animal wackiness cannot regurgitate convenient items, I decided to give human Rico a bunch of pockets from which cartoon HUMAN wackiness can occur. His outfit is also a bit more military-like than the others, what with the bomber jacket, cargo shorts, and combat boots. I also gave him what is essentially the boss floss from Splatoon 3’s amiibo gear.

Private: According to Penguin Lore™️, they’re all brothers, but Private is adopted, hence why he’s a bit younger [but not a child!] and I gave him a different hair texture and skin tone. His shirt has an icon from his favorite show, a Lunacorn. I also made his blue nail polish match its eyes. I take honor in the fact that a friend told me “I have several transmasc friends who look like this”.

Maurice: A lot of people who draw TPOM gijinkas don’t even draw him, which is a shame, because I love Maurice. Even more offensive is that some people don’t even depict him as an old black man, which goes against everything I know to be true in my heart. Anyway, he seems like the type to enjoy autumn/winter gear, so I gave him a big ol’ trench coat, as well as a scarf that looks like his fur puff. And the newsie cap just felt right.

King Julien: Here’s where all the flashiness went! According to an actor whom I have a personal vendetta against and thus will not name, Julien’s accent is Sri Lankan, so I took inspiration from their traditional clothing for his outfit, albeit more “cunty”, as today’s kids call it. It was imperative that this man has his toes out for obvious reasons, so I gave him sandals. I honestly have no good explanation for the leopard print leggings other than it came to me in a divine vision. Or something. The sunglasses mimic the color of his eyes!

Mort: Look, it was really hard for me not to just draw Molière from Atlantis: The Lost Empire, since his design is already kind of what I imagine this fellow looking like as a “human”. Admittedly, I’m not too proud of this design, but i think it gets the job done. His outfit purposely clashes: a matching hat and sweater, but with sweatpants, and he’s not even wearing shoes! I know the original Mort doesn’t have any purple in his design, but I felt like its inclusion made him look a little weirder. And then there’s his eyes. Yeah.

Hope this wasn’t too long, and thank you to anyone who read this portion of the post!

[butterphii]

I've Got You.

A Million Times Yes (Part 7)

---------------------------------------------------

TW: Cussing, kissing, engagement, crying (happy tears though), lots of hugging, age gap (26-29, 58), pet names, drinking

This takes place 3 years in the future!

This is my first time ever writing a series! Please be kind!

--------------------Joel Miller--------------------

You woke up next to Joel, like you had been everyday for months now. You'd been moved in together for almost 8 months, dating for almost 3 years.

Your dad was definitely taken by surprise when he found out you and Joel had been seeing each other. But, he wasn't exactly opposed to it, since his best friend would now be his son in law. Your mother had a "lil' itch" in the back of her mind.

Joel was a man who understood you. Who got you through thick and thin. A man who could take care of you and ruin your body all at once. He was all you'd ever dreamed of since you were a kid. You couldn't wait for what was to come.

All you wanted to do was kiss him and love him forever, but he was sleeping so peacefully. Joel's lips were parted slightly, his delicate eyelashes flicked around with the wind of your ceiling fan.

You sighed at the sight of this gorgeous man, and loved the fact that he was all yours now. You kissed his forehead before falling back asleep with his hands wrapping around your waist.

When you woke back up, Joel was stretching in the middle of your bedroom. "Joel? Baby, what are you doing?.." You said groggily. "I'm gettin' ready for our big day. Get up and get ready, cuz' I got somethin' planned." You sat up, rubbing your eyes as he waddled towards you, giving you a big kiss. "Come on now! Don't wanna be late!" He buttoned up a white button down and helped you out of bed.

You showered quickly and did your hair, rushing to do your makeup when Joel said you had an hour left. He had already picked out a dress for you that complimented his outfit. A long, black, satin dress that hugged you in all the right places. You tried to quickly slip it on, but it was hard since it was so tight. Joel ran in to help you, then pulling you out the door once you finally put your heels on.

"Whoo! Finally. Now, time to go to pur favorite dinner spot." "McDonald's?" "No, baby," He chuckled gravely. "The fancy place we love to go to on our anniversary." "But that's not for like..2 weeks. Are you ok, Joel?" You giggled after him. "Honey, I'm jus' takin' you out for some fun. We're gonna go to the beach after to watch the sunset. You got your nails done when I told you too, right? Was the $200 enough?" He asked, one hand on the steering wheel and one on your thigh. "Yes, Joel, it was perfect. And I did get my nails done. See?" You showed him your pearly red and white nails. "Gorgeous, baby."

He drove a little bit farther before pulling in to the park lot of the restaurant. He opened your door after running around to your side of the car, making you burst into a fit of laughter. You calmed down before heading inside, sitting at a table with a gorgeous view of the sky and ocean. Joel had ordered the most expensive wine, which happened to be your favorite. You sipped on the cup, Joel staring into your eyes and complimenting you nonstop.

You both were just talking and eating before you noticed the time. "We gotta go if we're tryna' see the sunset." You said, putting a lip gloss back into your purse after use. "I see you're gettin' an accent. Am I rubbin' off on ya?" Joel laughed loudly.

You smiled on your way back to the car, Joel opening the door for you once again. You sat down in your seat when Joel reached over from his side and gave you a big kiss once more. "Better be excited. Heard this was the best place to watch the sunset in all of Texas!" He giggled to himself.

You danced along to the music from the radio, Sabrina Carpenter, Billie Eilish, even Olivia Rodrigo before Joel announced the fact you arrived at "yer" destination.

You walked down the boardwalk with him, reached the docks before sitting on the ledge and letting your feet dangle into the water. Joel had gotten up for about a minute when he told you to turn around, close your eyes, and stand up.

Once you opened your eyes, to his command, you saw what he'd been doing. He was on his knee, holding out the most gorgeous diamond ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, putting your hands to your face.

"Baby, the last 3 years of my life have changed me. They have made me the happiest man in the world. Being with someone as gorgeous as you was something I could only dream of. That is why I am asking you this; Will you marry me?" He asked, choking back a tear or two when he saw your eager nod.

He stood up, putting the ring on your finger. It was a bright silver color, the diamonds a ovular shape, sitting in a white bar, along with yours and Joel's birthstones. You felt hot tears slide down your face when Joel picked you up and hugged you tightly. "I love you." He whispered in your ear. "I love you too, forever." You said back, listening to a few scattered whistles and claps from the people watching you. You kissed his face all over, holding on and wrapping around his body.

[smurphyse]

Bloodied Up In A Barfight | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 3 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: barfights, fistfights, mentions of death, tension, arguments, BAU talk

Summary: You head to Tooky's bar to tend bar for Holly, and a fight breaks out. Later, Spencer finds something out about you and things get worse.

After a long irritating day of trying to fix a toilet in Room 2, I went up to my apartment for a nice hot shower, stared out the window for a bit like always, then made my way to Tooky's. 

It was one of my favorite spots in town. Nestled in the middle of the bay on the beach, the ramshackle bar held a special place in my heart. It was where I first kissed Ernie right before an eighteen year old me went home with him that night we met. If only I'd known what happiness would come after that night, I would have cherished it more. 

A whirlwind engagement, three years of bliss and love and the sea, all culminating in one violent night that took him from me. I should have known I wouldn't get to keep him or my happiness. 

I tried to shake away the crushing weight of my own memory as I did every day driving through these streets, but some days it was harder than others. Instead, I focused on driving my shitty old VW bus around the pothole that Spencer hit on his first day. With a smirk I noticed it was bigger than the day he got here. 

A majority of the seating was laid on the sand, hand placed stones that Tooky herself had put down when she first came here. She’d turned this beach into a paradise of hammocks, tables, and a small theater with a sheet hung with the ocean behind it. The woman was ancient, but she was more than happy to show off her much younger forty year old wife Vera who looked at her like she was made of gold. 

The bar was open, little cut tiles shaped in the design of fish and the waves outside under a wood top. Glasses hung from mounts just in reach for servers and the mirrored back held all the tequila and alcohol a girl could ask for. Tooky had small swings on the outside of the bar walls, and the patrons used the windowsill as a table. People already milled about though the sun was just beginning to set, the ocean blue shimmering with the bright pink-purple of the fading light. 

“Hey Tooky!” I called as I stepped in, that old familiar smell of cigarettes and palm fronds washing over me like the sand in the wind. 

Tooky, aged like the mountains and canyon ranges around us, rested on a stool behind the bar. Blue and pink neon flashed over her silver braids, the ends of which laid in her lap they were so long. Turquoise and sandstone jewelry hung from her long earlobes and wrinkled wrists, and she gave me a big smile and a wave when she saw me.

“Honey Bee, c’mover here!” The silver backed bracelets clacked with her movements, her sundress swishing along. Tooky Builds-the-Fire was as old as the sea itself, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She was as full of light now as she likely had been as a kid.

I made my way over and gave her a big hug. Her spindly arms held me in a death grip, nearly cracking my back. She let me go and placed a kiss on my cheek and gave a sneaky pat on my backside. "Where's that lovely wife of yours?"

Tooky pointed a shaky finger toward the beach, "She's helping the band get set up. You know how much she likes the music."

"Hey Honey!" Micah called, carrying a box of bottles from the kitchen, his long braids hanging over his shoulders. He set them on the counter and pulled me in for a quick hug. He pointed at Tooky, "Thanks for helping mom out tonight. Holly doesn't do so well here during this time of year."

"Oh, I don't mind," I told him with a smile. I set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Besides, gives me something to do other than fix toilets all night."

Micah gestured to his uniform, "And you couldn't say no to the town sheriff, right? Cuz I'm so intimidating and all."

"Oh, Sheriff Builds-the-Fire, you are the only man in this town I both fear and admire."

"As it should be," Micah grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't much taller than me, and the fact that he looked almost exactly like his mother made him insecure at times. People didn't tend to take him seriously. 

Micah pointed over to the corner of the bar and leaned in close enough to whisper, "Your boy's been here all day drinking his feelings. You might wanna check on him."

Sure enough, there was Rico in the corner hunched over a glass of whiskey. I could see the liquor in his eyes all the way from the bar, and I sighed before putting my stuff away in a locker in the kitchen, then made my way over to him. 

He was drawing on a cocktail napkin, and even before I came up to the table I knew he was drawing a picture of Ernie. Rico had painted the mural of him outside Collie’s, and Ernie was the one who bought him his first sketch set. The two of them had the same crooked smirks, always together no matter what. Even when Ernie and I took over the inn for Mattie May, Rico would stop by every day for lunch just to hang out with his best friend.

I slid into the chair opposite him. He didn't bother to look up. "Do you need me to take you home, Rico?"

He shook his head slowly, "I'm doing just fine here, Honey."

I couldn't stand it, his standoffish pose. He was on the defensive, but I could never resist poking the bear. It was something Ernie loved about me, but it was something Rico became easily frustrated by. 

"You should go home, get some sleep."

He finally looked up at me. His eyes were wet, red rimmed and exhausted. My shoulders sank with the weight of his gaze, and he knew it. 

Rico swallowed thickly, "You gonna marry me?"

"Ric-."

"I didn't think so," he said softly, waving a hand. "I knew the first time I asked that you'd say no."

"I do love you, Rico. Okay? I'm just…." The words spilled out like a geyser, but it needed to be said. I was never going to marry him, no matter how much I wanted to just to make him happy. "I can't stand the thought of you hating me because of this."

“I don’t hate you,” he said earnestly, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Rico, I can’t have you mad at me because I don’t want to get married. I’m not ready to do it with anyone-.”

"I'm allowed to be mad,” he cut me off firmly. “I'm allowed to be upset, okay? I know it makes you feel guilty but… it can't be my problem if you're not going to marry me. I need to feel what I feel, too. You’re not the only one who’s sad and fucked up around here."

I looked down at my lap and nodded as the tears welled. My voice strained as I tried to keep myself together. "Yeah… I know."

Rico pushed his empty glass toward me, “Will you get me another?”

I got up on shaky legs and took it with a trembling hand, “I’ll have Vera bring it over.”

I didn't even know why I was so upset. I didn't want to marry Rico, and the only real reason we'd started up in the first place was because of a drunken night last year. We were both lost without Ernie, and the thought of having to go on without Rico as at least my friend killed me inside. 

Turning on my heel, I made my way back to the bar, the glass hung loosely in my fingers. I pushed it across the bar where Vera had made her way to, cleaning a glass with a cloth. “Hey, Vera. Can you get Rico another one?”

She leaned on one leopard-printed hip and shook the washcloth at me, “You don’t wanna serve your boyfriend?”

I felt tears threaten to spill as I shook my head, “Can you just take care of him for me tonight?”

“Sure, Honey,” she said quietly. Vera filled the glass with Rico’s favorite, pressed a hand to my cheek as she passed and gave me a smile. Her bouncing blonde curls made me feel better, as did looking over just to see Tooky watching her backside with a lopsided grin. 

I let out a breath and decided to take over for her, picking up a glass to clean. When I turned toward the door I nearly jumped out of my skin at Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the counter with a cheeky smile and a wave. 

“You, uh, you made it out Mr. Buzzkill,” I said shakily, trying to covertly sniffle. It didn’t work, and he squinted my way.

“Are you crying?” I waved a hand in front of my face and shook my head, but I couldn’t help glancing over to where Rico sat in the corner talking to Vera. Spencer twisted on his barstool enough to look at him with a furrowed brow and a frown. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, and he turned back to look at me. His face told me he obviously didn’t believe me, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to him about this stuff. “What can I get you?” 

Spencer watched me for a moment, a pair of not-quite hazels searching me in an almost analytical way. He seemed to scan me and know in that moment that if he pushed me I was going to freak out, so he pulled out his wallet and a ten, then slid it toward me. 

“Bourbon, neat,” he decided. 

I pushed the bill back to him, “First one’s on me.”

“You know, nobody around here will let me pay for anything."

"You should take it and put it toward something fun like seeing the sights," I told him with a watery grin. I leaned over the bar and put my chin in my hands. "There's a lot of great places around here."

Spencer made a face and nodded, his gaze flicking down to my boobs. He made no effort whatsoever to disguise it and smirked like a cat, "I've got sights aplenty right here."

With that I snatched the ten and held it up for him to see, then stuffed it down my bra, "Just for that, I'm keeping this."

Spencer leaned back and laughed, "You earned it."

I poured Spencer his bourbon and made my rounds, waving hello to the people who came in. Nell ambled in after a bit, waving goodbye to Bernie before coming inside. Rose and Mattie May came up to the bar, trapping Spencer between them and Lonnie and Lloyd on the other. He conversed with them lightly, clinging to his bourbon like it was a lifeline, but I saw him eye the twins with caution. 

Lonnie and Lloyd Evarts were fraternal twins who just…sucked. They were assholes, and I avoided them and their leering every chance I got. They drank as much as they wandered around town picking fights and bothering people.  

Lonnie was the oldest by a few minutes, with a beer belly, rough gray speckled beard and greasy hair. Lloyd was tall and lanky, over a head taller than his brother, and liked to speak with a low creepy voice. They just liked to be a bother, so I got them their drinks and went on my way. 

I sang along to the music as I worked, the band playing soft acoustic rock as the street lights came on and the hot sun turned into an only slightly cooler night. Sweat made its way under my arms under the heat of the lights and errant conversations, but I tried to keep myself busy and not focus on Rico. 

Eventually, I couldn't really help myself. He just looked so damned lonely in the corner by himself. I poured some water into a big cup, ignoring Spencer's watchful gaze and pleading eyes to save him from Mattie May's questions and went over to Rico. 

Setting the water in front of him, I slid into the chair next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He sighed heavily and met my gaze with a watery smile. 

"Hey," I murmured, giving him a squeeze. 

Rico licked his lips and chuckled, "Hey."

He covered my hand with his and returned my squeeze, "I think I need help getting home."

I leaned my chin on his shoulder and nodded, "I already called Micah. He's on his way."

Rico let out a long sigh and glanced up to where Spencer was sitting stiffly next to Lonnie and Lloyd. He waved a drunken hand that way, "My mom says he's really nice. He knew she was Basque just by her accent."

"She even brought him karouga," I told him playfully. "She might ditch your dad for him if you're not careful. Augustin is gonna be traded in for a new model."

Rico laughed quietly, slurring a bit, "She said the same thing about me and you. Said he may have eyes for you."

"Oh, well if Augustin is on the table I'll take him."

"You're sick."

I reached out to palm his chin and smile brightly. "You kinda look like him. Maybe that's why I think you're cute."

He groaned and pushed at me, "You're disgusting. I'm gonna throw up all over you if you don't shut up."

We laughed together for a moment, and it faded into us watching one another sadly. Twelve years of grief and friendship tied us together, Ernie the knot that kept it all from falling apart. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat on his skin. 

"Collie and Augustin would have been great grandparents," I whispered, and he nodded, his hand absentmindedly reaching out to palm my empty stomach. I placed my hand over his, "They still will be. You have time, Rico."

His fingers tensed, then released, his thumb rubbing circles for a few seconds before he pulled away. Rico ran a heavy hand over his face and let out a grunt that told me he was trying to contain his emotions. "We shouldn't have a serious conversation right now. I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty drunk."

"Drink your water and we'll settle the tab."

It took a few minutes, and some spillage, but he finished it. Rico held out his hands like a child, and I took him by them both and hoisted him to his feet. A handful of wobbly strides later and I got him up to the bar between Lonnie and Spencer. 

"Vera, can you settle his tab? Stick it on my card."

Rico set a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder, who stiffened up tightly from it. He leaned in close to drunkenly whisper to him, "How you likin' the town, hipster?"

"It's Spencer," he said slowly back, flinching away from Rico’s breath. "It's…fine. How's my car?"

Rose leaned back enough to tug on the back of my shirt for my attention, "Did you call Micah?"

"He's on his way." I swatted at Rico, who was leaning far too heavily on a stranger he didn't know or even like very much. "Rico, leave the man alone."

"'M being polite to your guest, Honey," he told me flippantly. I shook my head and gave Spencer an apologetic frown. "Your Jeep's got a lot of miles on it for the year. How long you been on the road, man?"

I spotted Lonnie smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch my attention. I did my best to focus on the receipt for Rico’s frankly astonishing amount of drinks he'd had today. 

"Two years. I've been just about everywhere," Spencer told him sheepishly, and he put a steadying hand on Rico’s chest to keep him from falling on him and out of my arms. 

I signed the receipt and slid it back to Vera, but as I turned back to Rico and Spencer I felt an unfamiliar hand on my backside. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Lonnie grinning at me with tobacco stained teeth. 

"Back off, Lonnie," I snapped. When I pushed at his wrist, his grip only tightened. "Ow! Goddamnit, Lon-."

Rico twisted off my shoulder before I could stop him, ripping Lonnie's hand from my ass. Spencer got up sharply from his stool and stepped up next to him, his hand going for his belt. 

Lonnie wasn't phased, and he ignored them completely. He loomed over me and cocked his head, his equally nasty brother standing behind him. "I hear Rico didn't knock you up. Lloyd and I are more than happy to step in, do what he can't."

"Back off, Lonnie," I urged, trying to keep Rico behind me. "Tonight's not the night."

"I think it's a perfect night," Lloyd sneered, grinning at me like the creep he was. "We'll show you a good time, Honey. Let you feel a real man for once."

"You boys better head home if you know what's good for you," Rose spoke up, and when I looked back he was up on his feet too. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Lonnie snapped. I was closer to him than I ever wanted to be, stale beer and cigarettes washing over me as I struggled to keep Rico in place and standing. Lonnie knew that Rose and Rico had served, and both were certified badasses, but Lonnie and Lloyd both served too, and for some reason they thought that gave them the right to fuck around and not find out.

“I’m talkin’ to the lady here,” he continued, reaching a dirt stained hand out to push back my hair. I swatted him away but he wasn’t phased, nor by the sudden silence that overcame the bar. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it was my least favorite feeling in the world.

“I don’t want to talk to you or your brother,” I told him in a low voice, hating to be the center of attention. “I’m taking Rico home. You two just enjoy your night.”

I pulled on Rico’s arm until he moved with me, staggering and glaring at the twins over his shoulder. We barely made it two steps before Lonnie called out again.

“Maybe I’ll find you one of those nights you’re walkin’ home alone, then, bitch!”

Fuck.

Rico turned on a dime, the droopy effect of alcohol reverting to fierce stupidity. I was caught between them, his chest against my back as he swung a heavy fist toward Lonnie. It connected with his cheek with a loud smack of Rico’s knuckles. 

Everything seemed to explode in a millisecond. 

Lonnie barely flinched through his own alcoholic haze, his fist barreling toward me before I could react. A blast of pain cracked across my vision, a bright haze of red and white bursting over my sight as my body twisted from the force, a sharp yelp bursting from my chest. 

I hit the ground hard, my wrists and knees taking the impact. Yelling echoed in the back of my mind, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and broken glass. Hot blood dripped down my nose and chin as I struggled to blink back into focus. Somebody had their hands on my shoulders, which I feebly tried to push away. 

The napkin Rico had drawn Ernie on lay on the floor beneath me, trickling droplets of iron red beading the surface before bleeding into the paper. Memories swirled in my mind as I gazed bleary eyed at a drawing of my dead husband. Blood and the whipping wind jerking my hair from my scalp… sharp lightning cracking and thunder booming around us… the sight of the love of my young life bleeding out in the ocean. 

Then just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped. 

I looked up cautiously to find Rico on his ass next to me, clutching his nose, but that wasn't what made my heart stop in my chest. It was Spencer.

Lloyd laid flat on his belly with Spencer's boot between his shoulder blades, struggling to get up. Lonnie's arm was twisted behind him and out, Spencer pinching between his thumb and his pointer finger with one hand, the other tangled into his hair. 

"Get the fuck off me, man!" Lonnie snarled, but Spencer just twisted his arm further, earning a strangled yelp from the drunken asshole. 

Mattie May and Rose both had their arms under my armpits, hoisting me to my feet. Hastily, I snatched the napkin from the floor and enclosed it in my fist. I could hear her speaking softly to me over the ringing in my ears, asking me if I'm alright. All I could focus on was him, and the shift in his body. It was like staring at a whole other person.

"Apologize," Spencer snapped, his dark eyes sharp and more focused than I'd ever seen. Even with a handful of drinks in him he was steady and strong, his grip unyielding. "Now."

“Fuck y- argggh!” Lonnie tried, but another sharp turn on his shoulder had him howling. “Okay, okay! I’m fuckin’ sorry, man!”

“Not to me, dumbass,” Spencer growled lowly. Keeping one foot on Lloyd’s back, he turned Lonnie to face me and my spurting nose and lip. “Apologize to her.”

“I’m… sorry,” Lonnie gritted out, but the burning hatred in his eyes told me he wasn’t, and that this wasn’t over. 

“Alright!” Micah’s voice sounded out as he sauntered into the bar, and all turned to him. His weathered hands planted on his hips as he glowered down at the Evarts brothers. “That’s enough, boys. Head home.”

Rose pushed me gently behind him as Spencer released the twins. They both got to their feet rubbing their shoulders and scowling at me. Micah knew me well enough that I wasn’t going to press charges, so he waved them out of the bar and went for Rico.

“I’m guessing I have him to thank for this escalation?” Micah grunted as he bent down. He and Rose looped their arms under his and pulled him to his feet as he tried in vain to quell some of the blood flow.

“Yeah. I’ll help you get him to the car,” Rose replied gruffly. He kissed Mattie May on her cheek and I avoided the sight painfully as they drug Rico out of the bar.

“Honey, lemme look at ya,” Mattie May urged, tugging on my jaw. When I wouldn’t turn she instead twisted in front of me, slightly obscuring my view of Spencer.

I watched him and his reddened cheeks, the way his hands started to shake now that the fight was over. I watched him watching me back even as he snagged his bourbon off the bar and downed it in one go. 

“I’m fine,” I muttered. She ignored me, as did Vera and Tooky, poking and prodding around. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t seem to look away from Spencer. He couldn’t look away either, it seemed, just gazed at me with a deep bone aching sadness and shame I’m sure reflected in my own eyes.

Another squeeze down my arm, a sharp rocketing pain that burst through my wrist. It was enough to drag me away from Spencer Reid, my angry gaze flicking to Mattie May, “Ow! Goddamnit!”

“Let’s get you some ice, Honey,” she replied quickly, her former nurses’ training kicking in. Before I knew it I was being dragged around the bar and into the kitchen, but when I looked over my shoulder Spencer hadn’t moved his gaze from me, but something had changed.

The sadness had switched to grief, and a little bit of fear.

The world spun as the girls pulled Honey into the kitchen. Spencer watched helplessly as the door swung shut, his body shaking and too stiff all at the same time. 

Is this who I am now?

He could see her through the window, see that she was okay and talking. One of the women blotted her nose with a dish rag as Mattie May pulled out a first aid kit. Spencer leaned against the bar for support, but he was certain if he looked away from Honey he would crumple into a ball of tears. 

Spencer was an idiot, reacting like that. The first sign of trouble and his training kicked in, that old familiar chivalry he’d thought he left behind on a cool DC morning as he skipped town like a ghost. He saw Lonnie and Lloyd, looking too much like the men he’d met in his work, and worst of all…

He saw Honey, frightened and too hard-headed for her own good to not back down from a fight she couldn’t win. You can’t win against men like that, people with their minds made up… and all he saw for a moment was Maeve with Lonnie’s fist heading right at her. His agent training burst out of him without permission, and the next thing he knew it was like after prison again, stopping some asshole from messing with Tara… when he was out of control and pissed off at the world.

Is this who I am now?

A heavy hand on his shoulder made him flinch and duck, turning sharply to find Rose looking at him with his dark eyes. Spencer’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breath struggling to return to normal. Rose motioned to the barstools in front of them, pretending as though he didn’t notice.

“Sit down, son.”

With a shaking hand, Spencer took a deep breath and pulled out a stool. He slid onto the cool leather and gripped the bar while Rose went around the other side. He pulled a bottle from the bar wall and poured him another drink, then pushed it toward him. Spencer snatched it like a man dying of thirst and poured it down his throat. 

"It's a good thing you did, taking over like that."

Another deep breath, count to five, let it out. 

"Bar fights are a dime a dozen. Don't worry too much about it. Lonnie and Lloyd aren't stupid enough to press charges."

The glass barely had the chance to hit the bar again before Rose poured him another. Spencer lifted it to his lips, just moments away from temporary salvation in the arms of liquor when he spoke again.

“Ex-con or cop?”

His only reprieve from the world hung mid air, just out of reach of his mouth as Spencer stared shell-shocked at him. “What?”

“Mattie May says you didn’t serve, but you don’t like fireworks.” A quirk of his heavy brow told Spencer he wasn’t getting out of this one. “Your hand went straight for your belt, like you were reaching for a gun. You got that haunted look in your eyes like a man who's seen some things. You didn’t serve so… ex-con or cop?”

Spencer swallowed thickly. The cool beads of condensation from his bourbon trickled down his hand and wrist. Rose sighed, “Nobody’s judging here, son. We welcome all kinds in this town, as you’ve surely noticed.”

Is this who I am now? What would ever be the right answer to that question? Both. Neither. 

Spencer’s heart weighed a thousand pounds as he stared painfully back at Rose. Licking his lips to prepare himself, his jaw quivered. His voice shook as he admitted for the first time in years, “FBI. Almost twenty years.”

Rose didn’t say anything about that, but the slight twitch that etched across his weathered features told Spencer everything he needed to know about his thoughts. Really? You? How could someone like you be capable of such a thing?

“Thank you for your service,” he said instead.

“Don’t,” Spencer replied. 

He downed his drink, pushed it forward for another. Rose obliged, tipping the spout over the rim. Spencer found himself looking once more to the kitchen window, his eyes sliding over without much thought. Honey seemed pissed off as ever, glaring at something in her hand as Mattie May wrapped her wrist with an Ace bandage. The distinct swell of a coming bruise tattooed across her cheek and lip, her nose red from cleaning blood away.

“She’s fine,” Rose’s voice came through, tearing his gaze away. “Honey’s taken harder hits than that.”

"Her husband?" Spencer asked, a bit unsure of such a bold question. "That why she wears that ring?"

Rose scratched his chin as he thought. His eyes wandered around the bar, seeing who was close. When he was satisfied nobody would hear, he leaned on his elbows on the bar. "You know, Honey don't look like it, but she grew up catching lobster on a boat off the East Coast."

"How'd she end up so far from home?"

"I don't know specifics," Rose muttered with a shrug. "Her daddy was a real religious type. Made it clear one day she could live there with his rules as gospel, or leave. She left, hitchhiked until she met Mattie May at a truck stop on her way home from visiting her sister."

A sweet genuine smile stretched across his cheeks, "She brought her to town. Honey met Ernesto. It was…instant. They just fell in love like that."

Sigue viviendo, Ernesto, Spencer remembered, thinking back to the mural outside Collie’s. 

"Yeah, those two were something else. Before she came along, Rico, Holly Henson, and Ernie were just three boys who came back from Iraq with hell to raise. They were wild. Honey walked in one day and those boys all turned into men. She showed them they could be more than haunted."

Spencer couldn't help but squint at his words, glaring at Rose as he downed his fourth shot in as many minutes. Rose dutifully poured him another, continuing on, "They all loved the water, fishing. Honey trained in water rescue back in the day, and she still went out when they needed her. Ernie and Honey would go on these week long trips up and down the coast. Ernie used to wear his ring on a chain around his neck so it wouldn't get lost.

"One day they didn't come back on time," Rose said, and this time it was his eyes that became haunted. They traveled back to a time Spencer couldn't see, remembering something he didn't know. 

"They got caught in a storm, a big one that came outta nowhere. They tried to get control of the boat, but a lightning bolt hit the deck, blew the damned thing into pieces."

The breath caught in his chest, Spencer's body subconsciously leaning forward as he found himself wrapped up in the story. He could hear Honey griping about being left alone, but it all seemed so far away. 

Rose sighed, his dark heavy gaze landing on Spencer's once more. "Some tourists found her a few days later holding onto a piece of driftwood. She was holding his body to her by that chain with his wedding ring on it. Hers had slipped off in the waves."

Spencer looked over to the kitchen window once more. Sure enough that ring hung around her neck. She fiddled with it as she stared dead eyed at what looked like a napkin, rolling it between her fingers. 

"She brought my Ernie home to me," Rose spoke quietly, earning Spencer's undivided attention once more. 

"He was your son." It wasn't a question. 

"Yeah, he was a good egg." An unspoken declaration of devotion from a man going through unimaginable pain. 

"Goddamnit, I'm fine!" Honey snarled, stomping her way out of the kitchen. It seemed to be her favorite word. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

The door swung behind her like a dog's wagging tail. She squinted at Spencer and Rose as she came out, but Rose reached out a hand for her bicep, pulling her back to him. 

He tapped her chin, "That's a good shiner, kid."

Honey's scowl morphed into a slow chuckle. She shook her head and pulled away from him with a big grin, "You're a dick."

Mattie May made her way out of the kitchen next, inching her way back into the main room as if she was a bit fearful of Honey’s wrath. Her arms made their way around Rose's waist as she watched her flit back around the tables.

"Will you stay with her? Help her close up and drive her home?" Mattie May asked Rose softly. "I don't like the idea of her alone after what Lonnie said."

"Yeah, but you know Honey. She's gonna growl at me all night about it."

Spencer's mouth opened before he could think to stop it, "I could drive her home so Mattie May doesn't have to go by herself."

Both of them turned surprised to an equally surprised Spencer, but they were far more amused. 

"Boy, I know you've had more drinks than the five I poured you," Rose told him sternly. "I wouldn't trust you to drive a stationary bike right now."

"Well, that is true," Spencer replied, realizing in embarrassment the slur of his voice. "She can drive me home. There's no way I'm finding my way back to the inn by myself anyway."

They looked at one another, seemingly having one of those silent conversations couples do when they've been together long enough. Not so funnily, he used to have similar ones with the BAU. 

"Okay. You two be careful, though," Mattie May smiled. "Gets pretty dark around here at night on the beach. There ain't many streetlights."

"Will do," Spencer replied. He saluted her with his drink and polished it off, welcoming the amber gold and the edge it took off with it. 

He vaguely registered Rose asking Honey to drive him home, focused on drowning his feelings in his bourbon. After a few more hours, the patrons shuffled out. The old woman behind the bar and the pretty blonde left before closing time, and eventually it was just him and Honey alone. 

She ignored him mostly, avoiding his gaze as Spencer tried to avoid hers. She made her way behind the bar, pulling out trash bags and tying them off. 

"You didn't have to do that, y’know," she muttered, and when he looked up she was watching him through her lashes. Her cheeks flushed a dark pink, only making her bruise look darker. 

It was already blotching purple, and by the morning it would turn black and blue. Part of her lip had split, and god help him, it pissed Spencer off more than anything. 

"I can take a punch, Mr. Dreary," she said when he didn't reply. She pointed at his glass. "You didn't need to do that. You obviously didn't want to."

"Oh, I wanted to." 

Her hand reached out, fingers loosely grabbing the tumbler. She twisted it for a moment and bit her bottom lip as she thought. "He was trying to hit Rico and missed. He's a drunk asshole."

"No, he wasn't." Spencer told her. Honey's brows twitched, but she didn't say anything. "He may be a drunk asshole, but he aimed right for you in a place that would bleed the most and bruise the worst. I'm sure he's had plenty of practice accidentally punching women."

"And you know so much about that?" she challenged, stubborn as ever. "He's all bark and no bite."

"I know more about it than I'd like." Spencer's own hand found its way across the bar, clasping around her good wrist. "I've seen hundreds of Lonnie's. They seem all bark and no bite, but they're impulsive. Especially when they're angry. When he said he'd wait for you to walk home alone one night, he meant it. He'd have no problem finding you and raping you in the street before leaving you there."

Her jaw clenched tightly, but she nodded with tears in her eyes. Honey cleared her throat and held up one of the trash bags, "You might as well make yourself useful. Dumpster’s through the kitchen."

Spencer slid his hand from her and got to his feet. He rounded the bar and took it from her hands, his legs more than a bit unsteady. 

"You okay?" she asked quietly, watching him nervously. 

"I might be on my knees painting the inside of the toilet later," he told her with a watery lopsided grin, "but I'll be fine."

Her laugh was all he needed to walk away from her, smiling to himself. She chucked quietly behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. It was dark, illuminated only by the red light of the EXIT sign. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he passed through the hot room, still emanating heat from the hours of serving up burgers and fish fry to the patrons.

The night was only a few degrees cooler as Spencer pushed open the heavy back door and stepped into the alley. It reeked of stale beer, piss, and sand, making his nose curl up. He tossed the bag into the dumpster, the bottles inside hitting the inside with a loud clang. 

He gripped the slatted wall for support as he turned inside. His legs didn’t want to cooperate along the shifting sands, his veins mostly alcohol by now. Tugging the door back open, he stepped back inside into the glowing red blanketing the kitchen. 

"Get away from me!" Honey's voice came from the bar area. 

Spencer's body kicked into gear, his hand going to his belt for a gun that wasn't there. His badge wasn't either, and he was drunk. Old familiar instincts blazed to life, his ears picking up on a shuffling to his right. Spencer turned just in time to see the business end of a baseball bat coming toward his face. 

It connected with his nose, the fragile cartilage cracking under the force. Spencer was swept off his feet with the impact, landing hard on his ass on the concrete. The bat came down again as Honey screamed in the other room. 

Blinking blearily through the pain, Spencer's foot shot out, his boot catching the side of his assailant's knee. The man screeched in pain and collapsed, clutching his kneecap and howling

"Oh fuck, Lonnie!" he cried out, and Spencer recognized him in the dark. It was Lloyd Evarts. 

The swinging door flung open and in came the bastard Lonnie himself, dragging Honey in by her hair. Fresh blood dripped down her nose under the red lights, and he tossed her to the ground before swinging a heavy foot out. It caught Spencer in the ribs, his movements slow with the alcohol and stun of the hit to the face. 

“Take that, you piece of shit!”

Lonnie kicked him again, and again. Spencer tried to swing out his fist, but caught nothing but air. Lloyd was on his feet in Spencer's drowsy haze, stomping down on his shoulder and side as he tried in vain to get up from the floor. 

If he didn't get up, he'd probably die. 

The unmistakable rack of a shotgun ran ice water through his veins. He couldn’t see Honey, couldn’t find a way to pick himself up to get her the hell out of here. What an embarrassing way to die for who he used to be… shot on a cold floor in a town he didn’t know or like, trying stupidly to protect a girl he didn’t want to be attracted to.

The gun blasted out with a loud boom! that rattled the kitchen. Spencer braced for the all-too familiar feel of bullets in his flesh, but they didn’t come. Instead a loud howling ripped through the room through the ringing in his ears.

Another pump of the gun, the clattering of a spent shell casing petering across the concrete. The gun went off again, followed by the screech of a wounded animal. The blows stopped battering his drunken body, shuffling feet and screams echoing around him.

“Let’s go! Go, go, go!” Lonnie’s voice cried out, followed by them scrambling out the door. 

Spencer rolled onto his back, vaguely registering the gun hitting the ground. All the fight was gone, and he was just a pair of black eyes. The EXIT sign glowed ominously above him, the acrid smell and copper taste of blood in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, sure that it must be broken. 

“Spencer,” a soft voice came, full of tears and worry. 

A shadow moved in front of the sign, dark and surrounded by the red light. Soft dark hair glimmered even in the darkness, and Spencer reached a bruised hand up to run his fingers through it. He palmed her cheek, his breath catching in his chest as his brain struggled to remember where he was.

“Spencer, stay awake,” the voice said again. “I’m going to get some help.”

It was so quiet, shrouded in darkness and mystery. Familiar, but where was he again? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care, either. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, a slight hiss of pain escaping lips he couldn’t see. Her skin was warm, the fresh scent of saltwater and sweat washing over him. All he wanted was a hug, someone to hold him until he felt better. 

“Spencer, can you hear me?”

“Maeve?”

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... Also, what do you think is going to happen next?

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[weywookitswestwood]

HEYYO I FINISHED MY VIV CHARACTER ANALYSIS/BIO/HCS!! +18

(UPDATE: I added a few more hcs cuz I forgot to add them. I might remember more so expect the list to get a little longer)

Just putting a few content warnings out there before you go on scrollin’, there are some nsfw hcs down below so if you’re under 18, you’re in the wrong place. Also there is some mentions of family em*tional *buse and trauma so please skip if you don’t wanna read. Anyways, please enjoy~

Full name: Viviano Westwood (wasn’t born with a middle name)

Nicknames: Westwood, V, Viv, Vivi(don’t ever call him this, he’ll get mad), Vivikins(Or this), Big Guy/Fella/Lug, Vivano, Vibiano, Fabiano, Steve, Eastwood, Winwood, Jarhead(on second thought, only refer to him as either Westwood, V, or Viv)

Stand: Planet Waves (DISC)

Birthday: July 31st, 1983

Zodiac: Boar

Age: 28

Height: 6’1 (186 cm)

Nationality: American (Mostly of English and a bit of Italian descent)

Occupation: G. D. St. Prison guard

Personality: Large and in charge… sort of. Values brawn over brains. Not meaning he’s stupid, he’s just a simple man. Lacks in direction, both figuratively and literally. Because of his physical strength and his simple nature, he gets treated like an ox, whether it be from his parents or his job. Due to his upbringing, he has difficulty opening up or being sentimental. Instead, he copes through anger such as punching walls or snapping at people. He sees crying or being vulnerable as signs of weakness, another result from his upbringing. Likes to antagonize weak targets or criminals to make himself feel better. He claims he turned to the justice system because he wanted to keep evil people locked up for good from the public. That could be true, BUT others around him know there’s more to it than the reason he gives. Behind this mask, he’s an insecure and lonely man. Doesn’t have a spouse or kids or pets. He can be sociable, but doesn’t have any close friends. His love life is zero to none. He relishes in the heat of the moment, but once the discussion of marriage or starting a family is brought up, he’s out the door. Despite his flaws, he’s strong, resilient and yearns for excitement in his life. Perhaps being with the right people, he can find himself underneath that cold exterior and be a nicer, happier guy.

Favorite musician: Earth, Wind, & Fire, The Marshall Tucker Band(he’s a closeted country fan), and not a fan of the singer but he likes Fantasy by Mariah Carey

Favorite book: Playboy magazine

Favorite food: Anything SPICY

Background: Viviano was born in 1983 in Texas to a military veteran father and a hairdresser mother. From the time he was in diapers to 12 years of age, he lived a strict military lifestyle. No, his father wasn’t physical towards Viviano, but their relationship was better described as a “drill sergeant and cadet” dynamic than a “father and son” one. Basically this meant raising Viv how to be a “man” like teaching him how to use a gun at 4 years old and berating him if he began to cry. If there was one thing Viviano feared the most… it was his father. He had a close relationship to his mother, even being labeled a “momma’s boy” by his dad.

By 12, his parents divorced and he chose to go with his mother to Florida, not before his father called him a “disappointment”. For seven years, Viviano lived with his mom in Port Orange, Florida, being enrolled in junior high. While not as bad as his father and at times would be overly affectionate, his mom did boss him around. He was a growing boy after all, he was able to reach and physically do things that she couldn’t. At school, teachers looked down at him as a strong, yet intellectually incompetent boy, who could care less about his grades. Not only that, he needed to boss someone like how his parents bossed him, so he made a name for himself as a bully. He would continue to pick on classmates all through high school until his grades were so abysmal he had to be held back in his senior year and didn’t graduate until the year 2002 when he was about 19. Both of his parents were ashamed of this news.

After graduating high school, he tried to join the military but after three months of boot camp, he left. His father called him a “lost cause”. It was the most humiliating moment of his life. He got a job at a Miami customs house and was there for years until he was let go. He wouldn’t tell anyone why but supposedly it was due to his temper. At 25, he got a job as a prison guard at the Green Dolphin State Prison.

Random headcanons: (Warning: some are sfw/nsfw)

SFW:

-Has a bit of a gambling addiction

-Only child

-Not the best driver, gets worked up if he misses his turn

-Mf doesn’t wear socks (I know I bring this up constantly as a joke but this is canon)

-His mom cuts his hair

-Overheats easily, he’s always warm to the touch not even an ice bath will cool him down

-Big sports fan, especially football and baseball, his favorite teams are the Dallas Cowboys and the Miami Marlins, respectively

-Has a really bad habit of cracking his knuckles

-Has naturally long eyelashes

-Doesn’t really have any talents besides bench pressing and being strong

-He can be self conscious about trivial things like being insecure about the size of his hands (he’s afraid of having small hands)

-Accidentally punched his grandma in the chest after tickling him too hard (she was okay just had to go to the hospital for a small fracture in her ribcage)

-Misses living in Texas

-He had a bit of a Texan accent growing up, it’s mostly gone but it’ll randomly come up when his voice cracks

-Sucks at flirting

-Doesn’t have a filter

NSFW:

-Not a virgin

-If you ask him who he’s into, he would say women but secretly, he’s a bit curious if ya catch my drift

-Doesn’t really have a type as long as the woman is of age, consenting, and isn’t a bitchy hag

-Likes being the dominant one when it comes to… ahem, the bed

-He likes to make anything into a “battle”; sex, play wrestling, tickle fights, etc. he’ll do whatever it takes to make his partner submit (psst hey you, yeah you, there’s a way to beat him, he’s super ticklish on his belly, ribs, and feet, get him in one of his death spots, he’ll be sobbing for mercy)

-Frequently gets hard ons, even in the most inconvenient of times (at work)

-Likes to be on top, but is nice enough to be a service top too

-Loves a partner who’s either a switch or just as domineering as he is

-One of his kinks is bondage, loves the idea of cuffing up his partner and letting his hands roam all over their body

-Can see him being a foot guy (dunno why, just cuz I guess); prefers to give than to receive because he’s ticklish but will be okay receiving it if his partner really wants to; but he loves foot jobs

-His favorite thing (I’m sorry everyone)… is CBT; any chance his partner is grabbing or crushing him down there, he’s on cloud nine (this part was honestly painful to write)

-Loves oral, receiving that is (but he likes to give as well)