#did he never get baptized?

[shekeepsmeworms]

Had some wine feeling good made a really shitty bowl in ceramics class this morning that I’m really worried has a bunch of air holes in it and had a really crappy therapy session where I didn’t talk too much but was honest about some other stuff which is good overall I guess but now I’m doing drunk crochet and watching the Duggar family documentary and probably going to stop watching soon once they start talking about the awful stuff but yeah day in the life of a woman doing her best I guess

[buckys-estrella]

sorry for disappearing on yall but i uninstalled tumblr just for the sake of my mental/spiritual health :/

miss you all and love you all but i needed an escape from this tbh

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[starrycassi]

Of course Nicky will never clock Kevin as bisexual. Of course he never clocked andreil as queer. Of course he can't ever see the members of his own community.

As far as we know, Nicky's first time actually being in a big, queer community was the camp. I feel like people overlook this. He was raised baptist, and no matter how gay you turn and how much sinful sex you have, you're always going to be just a product of your environment. The hymns are embedded in your vocal cords. The wine flows through your veins. It's all he's ever known until it suddenly isn't.

I'm pretty sure that he grew up thinking that gay people were only this caricature, this nameless freak, like many of us did. Gay men always dress a certain way, they're annoying, loud, touchy, and lesbians are always disgusting and manly and smelly. This is what he was taught, and there's no indication that he ever grew *out* of this mindset.

Yes, I believe Nicky enjoys a lot of the things he does, but I also think he's portraying the part of who he thinks he *needs* to be. And everything outside of those boundaries is still new and unbelievable. He's still a child, and relatively new to being openly gay.

And he's so proud. He can't think of anyone being anything other than proud of what they are. Nicky sees things as very black and white (completely gay or straight as a rod, hatefucking or about to get married) and probably thinks that if you're not out and proud, you're working with internalized homophobia. He never wanted anything other than to be free, and he cannot even think about the fact that some people don't want that level of fanfare.

He expects anyone who's queer to immediately come and talk to him. He's trying so hard to be the safe, iconic gay that other people can look up to and latch onto. He thinks that the only thing stopping people from screaming their sexuality to the world is homophobia, therefore they would at least tell him.

He doesn't get that people (Andrew, Neil) might just want to keep things private, because, to him, privacy equals secrecy, secrecy equals shame, and, well, there's nothing to be ashamed of!

Or maybe I'm just rambling. Idk guys this is my hot take of the week or whatever

ADDITION: guys I edit it to baptist I'm SORRY for the previous mistake I was sleepy.

ALSO ALSO the fact that he had to choose to be baptized?? That he's being faced with the choice he made and the nature of what he is?? The nature versus nurture themes HELLO?? This man is driving me crazy

[moongreenlight]

Mafia!Price is NOT your fucking aesthetic. A full comprehensive list as to why.

He cooka da pizza!

He goes to church every Sunday. A massive Roman Catholic Church downtown. Ancient building with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows depicting the life and loss of Christ. Full two hour masses that he always wears a suit to. At first it starts as some last-ditch attempt to absolve him of his guilt, but then it became habit. 

And maybe it was his wife. Her parents were devout and just about keeled over when they found out their only daughter was married by a quick ceremony in the courthouse to a man they’d never met. Her mother was the worst, though it was to be expected. Likely didn’t know John had won his new bride when her husband didn’t have the funds left to pay off his debt. Fucking miracle she hadn’t yet done the math and realized his first child was born seven months later. He’d be persecuted to no end.

There was a target on his back since the wedding. Always put him in the hot seat on Sunday evening dinners while his wife was trying to wrangle their children into eating their vegetables. Drilled into him about work and life and why he always seemed too busy to prioritize “something worthwhile” in his life. Mother sets in on him like she’d been waiting for the opening all evening.

“So, John. Remind us what you do for work.” Accusatory. Glaring over her barely touched plate of roast at him.

“Contracting. Bit of this and that.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely. 

“Hm. And what does that entail? Can’t keep you as busy as you swear you are.” She’s unabashed. Her husband doesn’t share the sentiment. He sighs into his glass of brandy and tries to catch her eye. 

“Don’t do much hands-on these days. Project management and bookkeeping for me now. Brought on a few guys to do the grunt. You remember from when we did your bathroom, I’m sure.” He doesn’t shy away from the challenge. Principled. 

“Boys would do well to have some structure. Bet they haven’t been in a church since they were baptized.” She ignores his parry and switches to what she really wants to talk about after looking over to her daughter who is all but force-feeding them florets of broccoli. Typical.

He finally wore down after a Christmas where the only gift he got from them was a deep brown leather-wrapped bible. Used. Split down the spine, dog-eared pages.  Like they’d stolen it from the shelf in the pew for the dolts who weren’t well-mannered enough to bring their own. 

From then, it had become a welcome escape from reality. Church in the morning. 8am service, because he was up before the sun anyway. Sipping coffee in the kitchen beforehand, pouring over a heavy binder with the title ‘family finance’ scrawled in his wife’s delicate handwriting across the front.

He could hear her wrestling with their two boys in the bathroom upstairs. Their indignant screeching clueing him in that he should probably get up and help, but he always tried to steal a few more moments to himself. Calm before the storm.

The boys have sour looks on their faces when they stomp down the stairs not five minutes later, though they’re nothing in comparison to their mother who’s only a few steps behind. They get the deep furrow in their brows from him, the bitter curl of their lips from her. 

“Glad you’re enjoying your slow start, John. Really.”

He should feel worse for not helping. Tries to lay her hackles back down by snapping the binder shut and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. She barely pauses to accept it before pushing past to pack her purse. Four bibles, his ratty one, her perfectly white one with different colored sticky notes poking out the sides, and two smaller children's bibles that she’d shove in their laps for appearance sake. Snacks for the boys, and a flash of the handle of her small handgun- safetied and then shoved into the bottom of her tote.

“Should’ve shouted f’you needed help. Can’t hear a thing down here.” The boys snicker when he winks over at them. They’re outfitted in their Sunday best. Slacks with damp finger marks on the thighs from where she’d tried to smooth out wrinkles. Buttoned-down shirts that they were already tugging at the collars of. Hair gelled back, no doubt the reason for their griping earlier. 

She doesn’t find it nearly as funny as they do. Shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder before disappearing into the spare room to grab a pair of low heels. 

“We’re already late. If we have to sit in the back again, you’ll never hear the end of it.” It’s not an empty threat. They’d missed one service and some aunt had told her mother in passing. Took three months to get her to stop bringing it up.

“S’not even half seven. Takes fifteen minutes to get there.”

It’s supposed to mollify her, but it has the adverse effect. She looks ready to throw a shoe at him when she sits on the bottom stair to tug them on. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Easy.” 

Somehow all four of them make it to the car in one piece. He sends a message to Kyle before they leave telling him to save them a space toward the front to err on the side of caution.

[ashwhowrites]

okay so this has been in my head forever but imagine cheerleader/rich popular reader and eddie are dating. reader is the daughter of a company ceo and wayne works at the company. wayne absolutely hates his boss because he’s rich and spoiled and his boss hates him because he doesn’t understand where he came from since he never grew up poor or whatever. let’s say one day reader and eddie decide to tell their parents about each other and reader invites eddie and wayne to come to her house for dinner and wayne and her dad are pissed bc they don’t want their kid/nephew associated with each other and like forbid them from being together but they eventually realize how much they mean to each other and like give them permission to date again. i feel like this would be so chaotic and funny but cute and wholesome at the same time

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Rich girl, poor boy

Wayne Munson was a hard-working man who didn't get credit where it was due. He started at the bottom and worked his way through every promotion. But his boss made Wayne's life hell. He kept Wayne at work later and later, giving him random tasks that weren't needed and treating him like scum. His boss was a rich old man, he was bitter and looked down on the people beneath him. Wayne was used to being the poorest man compared to others, but to be targeted because of it by his boss was his last straw. He hated that man and he hated whoever was related to him.

Wayne worked hard for himself but he also worked hard for Eddie. To provide as much as he could for his nephew. That's why he sucked it up and kept working for that twat of a boss.

~~~

"You're home very late," Eddie announced as Wayne walked through the door. The small clock above the couch read midnight as Eddie picked at the cold plate of dinner.

"Tried to wait but I was starved," Eddie said, Wayne brushed it off, heating his plate in the microwave. He waited a few seconds as it heated, grabbing a beer and taking a swig. He grabbed the warm plate and set it on the table.

"It's fine. The boss decided every car on the lot needed a tire cleaning." Wayne grumbled, stuffing his face with semi-warm food, Eddie frowned as he sat across from his uncle.

"Again? You did that last week." Eddie said he could see Wayne's body language was annoyed and exhausted.

"Didn't do good enough last time," Wayne said, rolling his eyes as he ate his first meal of the deal. Eddie watched with a heavy heart as Wayne's tired body ate as fast as he could. He knew once he finished, Wayne would go to bed and do it all over again.

"How was your day, though?" Wayne asked, he tried to keep up with Eddie's life. His parents were deadbeats and never checked up on him. Wayne wanted Eddie to have at least one parent who cared.

"Good! I took Y/N to get ice cream and we listened to new records." Eddie smiled as he recalled his day. Wayne couldn't help but smile along. Eddie had this girlfriend that he was obsessed with. She was popular and a cheerleader. Wayne almost choked on his dinner when Eddie first told him about her. He was nervous that such a popular girl was interested in Eddie, but from every story, she sounded sweet and genuine.

"When do I get to meet the unlucky girl?" Wayne joked, placing his fork on the empty plate.

"Haha," Eddie faked laughed, flipping Wayne off. "She's been asking for our families to meet, and invited us over for dinner on Friday. Think your boss will let you off at a normal time? She wants to do it around seven."

"I'll make him," Wayne promised, a pat on Eddie's head as he made his way to bed.

~~~

"I haven't worn nice clothes since you got baptized." Wayne chuckled, buttoning up his last button, then tucking his shirt into his jeans.

"I'm baptized?" Eddie laughed, also tucking his button-up into his jeans.

"Oh yeah, your mom did it for your grandma before she died. Are you ready?" Wayne asked, grabbing the keys.

~~~

"Eddie!" Y/N cheered, her arms wrapped around him as she snuggled into his neck. She soaked in his warmth for a second before she pulled away. Her eyes were on the older man next to Eddie. She smiled and brought him into a hug as well.

"Oh!" Wayne chuckled, hugging her back softly.

"Eddie talks about you all the time. Nice to see the man that inspires him." Y/N said as she pulled away. Wayne smiled back at her kindness. She had a sweet voice and a bright smile. He could easily see why Eddie fell so fast.

"Nice to meet the girl Eddie constantly talks about. I see he was right about how beautiful you are." Wayne smiled, and Y/N felt herself blush as she looked at Eddie. Her was art warm when he talked about her and believed she was beautiful.

"Well, I'll lead you to the dining room!" She said. Her black dress swayed at the bottom as she turned around. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as the boys followed behind her. Wayne tried to not let his jaw drop as he took in the huge house. The chandelier on the ceiling, the velvet furniture, the plants, and wall art. She came from money, and she came from lots of money.

Eddie was in awe of her house. He didn't think these houses were real. It looked like a scene from a movie. He knew she was rich, but he didn't know she was that rich. She didn't act spoiled, she was humble and even had a part-time job. She wasn't a snob, Eddie wouldn't have guessed she came from this much money based on how she acted.

"Daddy, this is Eddie! My boyfriend, and his uncle, Wayne!" Y/N held Eddie's hand as she introduced them to her dad. Her dad stood up from the table, his eyes settled on the younger man next to his daughter. Then they moved to the older man next to him.

"Son of a bitch." Wayne muttered to himself. Eddie quickly looked at him with confusion. Y/N looked between her dad and Wayne. Not understand why the air got so thick.

"You didn't tell me you were dating a Munson boy." Her dad sneered. Y/N didn't like the way he said Munson like it was a curse.

"Well he didn't mention he was dating a Y/L/N" Wayne growled back. Both men racing their chins higher and higher.

"Away from that boy now!" Her dad said, walking over to yank her arm. Y/N gasped as her grip lost Eddie's.

"Daddy!" She hissed, she couldn't believe his behavior. "What is the problem?"

"That man is a shame excuse of a man. He is scum at the bottom of the earth and you will not be dating no family member of his." He demanded, Y/N felt panic in her chest. Worriedly looking at Eddie.

"Sir, please just give us a chance. I'm not sure how you know Wayne, but he isn't scum! And neither am I. I love your daughter and I know I can take care of her." Eddie tried.

"Not. He works for me! I know exactly how much of a pathetic man he is. How can you take care of her when you are poor, Eddie? My baby girl doesn't belong in a tiny trailer."

"Stop it! You are being so rude." Y/N said, yanking her arm from her dad's grip. She stood productively in front of Eddie. "Eddie is a very nice boy and I love him. How much money he's got has nothing to do with anything."

"You are not dating him. That's an order."

"You can't tell me what to do! We don't need your support." Y/N snapped, her eyes angry as she stared down her dad.

"We have Wayne's and that's all we need," Eddie said, his hand reaching out to grasp hers softly.

"Eddie, you break up this relationship right now," Wayne said Eddie's eyes were huge as he turned around to look at his uncle. Shock is written all over his face.

Y/N's dad smiled as Wayne agreed. Maybe they could have this one small thing in common.

"Wayne!" Eddie exclaimed. He couldn't believe Wayne would suggest that. Y/N felt her heart crack as she turned to look at Wayne.

"Eddie, that man is evil. He is a snob, rude, and will forever look down on the people below him. I'm sure the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You are getting out while you still can. You are not dating a spoiled brat." Wayne spat out.

"Wayne!" Eddie scolded, he couldn't believe Wayne would speak so poorly of Y/N, he barely gave her a chance. In the same way, Dad barely gave Eddie the chance.

"Wayne, please. I know my dad is a boss man but I would never look down on you or Eddie. I'm so sorry for his behavior, but please I love Eddie. Don't do this." Y/N begged. She knew her dad was a loss cause, she needed Wayne to be on their side.

"It's Mr. Munson, Eddie we are leaving. Say goodbye and meet me in the car." Wayne spat, he turned around and walked out the door.

"Break up with the boy or Wayne is fired. You will not be talked about like that. He disrespected my daughter in my house!" Her dad threatened, his arms crossed as he looked down at the couple. He ignored the pain in his daughter's eyes but enjoyed the fear in Eddie's.

"Eds." Y/N whimpered, her eyes watery as the world crashed at their feet. She didn't want to lose him.

"Y/N, I gave an order. I want him out of my house and out of your life." Her dad said before he left the room.

"What do we do?" Eddie asked

"We have to break up." Y/N choked out, her eyes watered and her throat burned.

"Baby no! We'll make your dad change his mind! I'll make him, I promise!" Eddie panicked.

"I'm sorry. That job is all you guys have. I can't be the reason he gets fired, he'll hate me even more." Y/N couldn't live with that guilt. "I'm sorry." Y/N whimpered, sobs making its way out of her mouth. She covered her cries with her hands.

"He doesn't hate you! I'll make him change his mind and give you a chance!"

"Eddie, it's me or the job. Wayne would never accept us if it cost him his job, his income, and his source to support you. But soon I'll have money saved to move out, we will graduate and we can be together. Just wait for me?" She cried.

"Yes," Eddie said with no hesitation. He'd wait years for her.

"I love you," Eddie whispered, leaning down to softly kiss her goodbye. He felt his heart sink as he tasted her salty tears.

"I love you." She whispered. She watched as he walked out the door.

Eddie tried to hold back his sobs as he got in the car. He didn't look at Wayne the whole drive. The betrayal in Eddie's heart was the worst pain he'd ever felt. Out of everyone in the world, he thought Wayne would always have his back.

The car ride was silent, a few blocks away from home when Wayne finally spoke up.

"Look, I know you-" Wayne tried

"No! You don't know. I can't believe you would talk to her that way. You disrespected my girlfriend right to her face. She has done nothing to you. It's her fucking dad! Yeah, I get that. But you did not need to treat her like that." Eddie snapped.

"Eddie, you are too young to understand. But she will turn out just like him. She'll be selfish and think she's above you. You'll thank me in the end." Wayne said.

"You don't know her. You don't know anything about her." Eddie argued. "She's nothing like him. She is sweet, kind, and would do anything for the people she loves."

Wayne laughed and shook his head. "She has you fooled." The car came to a stop as they pulled up to their trailer.

"Make sure you send her a thank you card for saving your ass from being fired." Eddie snapped as he slammed the car door. He raced into the trailer and locked himself in his room.

~~~

Y/N knew she'd never forgive her dad for what he did. She'd never forgive him for making her break it off with Eddie. She'd never forgive him for not letting her be happy. Her mom tried to make everyone civil, but dinners were silent. Y/N refused to speak or look at her dad.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, slicing her steak.

"Fine," Y/N muttered. She picked at her plate, not much of an appetite. The breakup with Eddie was the most painful thing she's ever experienced. It's been days of silence. Days of longing look from across the classroom. Days of crying in her room when all she wanted to do was be in Eddie's arms.

"Did you talk to that boy?" Her dad asked, his eyes squinting at her over his newspaper.

"No."

"Good girl."

~~~

Wayne sighed as he walked into the trailer, complete silence. It's been days of Eddie locked up in his room. He only left for school, then right back into his bedroom.

"Did you eat?" Wayne asked as he knocked on the door.

"No," Eddie said through the door.

Wayne ordered pizza, sitting on the couch as his nephew stayed locked in his room. Wayne was conflicted, he knew Eddie liked Y/N and that the breakup was hard. But Wayne couldn't help but like the relief of his boss' attitude towards him. It was like banning Eddie from seeing his daughter was a win. He let Wayne go home at normal times and didn't give random tasks.

In the end, it worked out for Wayne, but was it worth it if his nephew had to suffer?

Eddie came out when the pizza arrived. He stacked up a paper plate and went to walk back into his room.

"Can we talk for a second?" Wayne asked, Eddie sighed but sat down.

"I know you're hurting. I know these past few weeks have been hard for you. I can see my actions have hurt you. It's hard for me to admit, but I was wrong. I spent years trying to get you to smile and enjoy life. Ever since I took you in, there was this light missing in your eyes. I took you to parks, bowling, and arcades, and yet you never smiled. You grew up and still, that light wasn't there. You never enjoyed living. Then you met her. And one day, I saw that light in your eyes. I see that smile when you talk about her. I'm sorry I took that away from you, Eds." Wayne said, choking slightly as he felt tears falling down his face. "I'm so sorry. I want that light back in your eyes. I want you to have something to live for."

Eddie choked back his cries as he watched Wayne break down.

"She makes me happy, Uncle Wayne," Eddie whispered, biting his lip harshly as he felt sobs making their way into his throat.

"You have my blessing. Get her back." Wayne said, he reached out and rubbed Eddie's hand softly.

"It means a lot. But she broke it off so you could keep your job. Her dad threatened to fire you. She'll never do that to you." Eddie said, "But thank you."

Wayne watched as he got up and went back into his room.

He knew what he had to do to make it up to his nephew.

~~~

"Sir, can I come in?" Wayne asked as he knocked on his boss's door.

"Yes." His boss sat at his big desk, his hands under his chin as he waited for Wayne to speak.

"I quit," Wayne said, folding his uniform and placing it on the desk.

"Excuse me?" His boss scoffed.

"Eddie or the job, right? Your daughter and I have something in common. We both love that boy and it's time he gets picked. I pick Eddie. I'm accepting your daughter, because of the way she brightens up my boy's world. If you can't see he does the same for her, then maybe you don't love her the way you should." Wayne said, not waiting for a response as he left the office.

~~~

Eddie was doing homework in the kitchen when Wayne walked in.

"It's like three? How did you get off that early?" Eddie chuckled.

"I quit."

"WHAT?" Eddie yelled, standing up from his chair.

"He can't fire me if I don't work for him," Wayne smirked.

"But Wayne! We need the money."

"I'll get a job somewhere else. You are more important than any job. I'm sorry I stood in the way of your relationship, but now there won't be any consequences."

"Thank you." Eddie smiled, tears in his eyes as he pulled Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne smiled as a few tears left his eyes. That smile was back.

And so was she

~~~

"CHEATER!" Y/N screamed, her accusing fingers pointed to Eddie as he tried to tuck cards under his plate.

"AM NOT!" he yelled back. His hand crumbled up another card he tried to hide. His girlfriend's eyes were watching his every move.

"WAYNE!" she yelled, the older man got off the couch and walked to the table. The board game is on the table, dice everywhere, and a mess of cards.

"Check his hand." She said a smile on her face. She knew Eddie was about to be caught.

"Wayne! Who are you gonna believe? Me or her?" Eddie gasped

"Your girlfriend." Wayne laughed, easily tackling Eddie to the floor as he tried to get the card out of his hand.

"GOT IT!" Wayne cheered, snatching the crumbled card. He held out his hand and yanked Eddie to his feet. Then placed the card in Y/N's hand.

"I knew it!" She said, slamming down the card she needed to win.

"Thank you, Uncle Wayne." She laughed as she high-fived him.

"He always cheats," Wayne whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Now I'm off to bed. Try not to be too loud. Big day tomorrow!"

"Good luck at the job interview," Y/N said, Wayne thanked her as he shut his bedroom door.

He smiled as he crawled into bed, the sound of Eddie's laughter and Y/N's screams filled the trailer.

Now the sound of that was worth quitting a job for.

[simonsrosebud]

my aftg fox children headcannons (guys be nice to them okay)

Dan & Matt:

They have two boys, Jace and Abram Boyd, one year apart (Abram wasn’t planned hehe) by the time Dan is 32.

Dan/Matt aren’t religious, but they still assign godparents to their kids. Jace’s godparents are Wymack and Abby, Abram’s are Neil and Renee.

At first Neil said no. He didn’t think that responsibility was something he could handle until he eventually got a call from Renee. “I know why you’re calling me” “I figured you would. I warned Matt and Dan that you may not respond in the way they wish, they don’t take it personally,” she’d said. Neil knew it wasn’t personal, but he admitted he also didn’t see the point and couldn’t be cut out for that. “I think you may misunderstand their intentions, may I try to clear it up?” Renee explained that, really, it was only a title, a glorified uncle of sorts, since the boys weren’t getting baptized and they weren’t putting their godparents in their will’s like old tradition did. “It’s a way to showcase the love and trust they have in others; you, me, Coach Wymack and Abby”. “It is an excuse to spoil them rotten,” Andrew had added when he talked to Neil. Renee told Matt to wait a bit, not to push, and a week later when Neil was randomly on the phone w Matt he said “I’ll do it, by the way. The kid thing- The godfather thing.”

Naming Abram was a struggle. They wanted something meaningful since Jace’s middle name was David. It wasn’t until Dan asked Matt what Neil’s middle name was that they got cookin. Neil was in the off season when he was born, so he drove out (accompanied by Andrew) to Atlanta from Columbia and they asked Neil when he got there.

Their backup name was Joshua (aka Josten) in case Neil wasn’t comfortable with Abram. Luckily it only took a few minutes of blue-screening for Neil to shake it off and allow it. Abram was Neil’s one real name, the one thing he’d kept all those years, the thing that made him feel grounded and safe. But Neil was 27. He hadn’t needed the name since he first moved away from PSU at 23 and was alone again. The kid deserved something safe.

ANYWAY. Jace is a certified hetero and goes to University of Miami for college. He grew up playing exy and baseball but once he was a sophomore in high school he quit exy and stuck to baseball all through high school. He’s 5’10.

Abram plays midfielder for soccer and used to play backliner for exy. Abram goes to PSU and rooms with Elliot (Andriel’s adopted kid, just wait it’ll make sense i promise), joins a campus soccer team, then makes the PSU team his sophomore year as a walk on.

Abram is 6’1. Has massive game but doesn’t use it bc he’s kinda oblivious. Very silly and energetic and comes off flirty sometimes when he’s just being nice and goofy. He later attributes it to the fact that he didn’t know he was bisexual until senior year of high school.

Abram fucking fawns over Elliot 3 months into living together bc he realizes he’s kinda in love with him. Never lets it show bc he won’t ruin their friendship and plus they share a room tg. Def foams at the mouth when Elliot comes back sweaty and shirtless from runs. Once Elliot is eating a banana and out of nowhere says “You ever eat a banana and wonder how the fuck girls suck dicks?” in the dining hall and Abram chokes on his drink so bad it comes out of his nose. Horrified.

Neil & Andrew (ik hold on):

Blake (f) and Elliot (m) Nelson.

Andriel had no intention of ever having kids bc no.

However, when Andrew and Neil are 42/43 and living in South Carolina again, Andrew notices that there are footprints in Neil’s garden. Then he sees it again and sees that the footprints continue towards the shed in the backyard. He checks their cameras to see that it’s a young girl coming and going with Neil’s electric bike a few nights a week from 12am-4am. The third time he waits inside the shed and promptly scares the living shit out of her.

QUICK VERSION: Andrew catches Blake sneaking into their backyard shed and borrowing Neil’s electric bike at night a few times a week, lets her use Neil’s old raggedy bike that hasn’t seen the light of day in years, turns a blind eye when she returns it run over, gives her bus money instead, goes back and forth with her for like 1.5 months, points out the bruise & bandages she shows up with one night while he’s sitting outside at 12am (insomnia), doesn’t see her for 2 months, shows up at the 24 hour CVS she works at 3-4 nights a week and sees the bruises on her hand and throat through her turtleneck while she thought no one was looking, threatens to call the police post-shift at 4am and sits with her through a panic attack bc “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” and then takes her to his house w consent, briefs Neil bc those kids need to get out of that house but they’re not staying here, Neil who somehow takes it all without a second thought and says “well not forever, but definitely for the night”, takes Blake and Neil (awk first meeting) to Blake’s house and gets Elliot out of the house while their dad is gone (Elliot has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm and says dad left in a rampage when he saw u were gone, and i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it).

Elliot doesn’t trust either of the men after what his sister protected him from and doesn’t know wtf is happening bc he thought Blake had been borrowing her friend’s bike. They stay in Andriel’s guest bedroom for the day, Abby is retired by now but only lives 45 minutes away. Neil takes charge of calling her despite Andrew thinking there’s more pressing matters like kidnapping 2 teenagers. “You didn’t kidnap us, idiot, we came with you” Blake says.

Long story short, the siblings end up staying with them longer than they thought due to lawyers and police and safety.

It becomes kind of a lost and found situation. What was once “while we get legalities figured out” became “until your father’s trial is over”, which stretched into “no way they’re getting sent to XYZ” and “until they can find someone competent enough to handle trainwreck’s, they’re stuck here” and “Dan won’t care if we bring them to Thanksgiving, right?” “Amalia’s been playing exy since she could walk, Kevin, Elliot started a year ago” “Elliot knows Santa isn’t real, right? That stops at, like, 12?” “I’m not teaching her to drive, I’ll get myself killed” “If your mouth gets you kicked out of school, don’t come crying to me” “Addie & Annie keep telling Blake to spend a weekend in Atlanta” “I’m not telling her not to date, she scares me” “Just because your mother wasn’t worse doesn’t mean she was good”

Until one day, two and a half years later, Blake hands Neil an application for adoption, who tilts it towards Andrew, who silently takes it and begins to fill it out.

Blake is 5’0, Elliot is 5’9. Blake is blonde and Elliot has light brown hair, and while they’re not ghostly pale, both of them burn in the sun in .2 seconds.

Elliot does cross country and was training for a 10k when they left their dad so Neil gladly continues that. He’s in awe when he finds out who Andrew and Neil really are, not because he knows their names but bc once he watches their old games it’s like watching gods to him. He’s a true golden retriever which isn’t helped by his ADHD, anxiety and mild dyslexia, which he doesn’t get medicated for until he’s 16.

When Elliot was 13 he almost drowned in a lake bc he was never taught how to swim. When their dad found out he took him back to the lake against his will and kept tossing him in the lake until he kept himself afloat enough to pull himself up onto the dock, nearly coughing up water. It was so traumatic to a young kid that Elliot had a problem with bodies of water after that. Instead of being fine just not going in, he avoids pools or lakes entirely. Beaches are give or take since he can sit far up on the sand.

Elliot watches exy with Neil and feels cool about it; latches onto King instantly and vice versa bc she’s an ESA and his anxiety is through the roof half the time.

Elliot gels very quickly with Jace and Abram when Andriel brings them to Thanksgiving at the Boyd’s house. Once he gets the boys’ numbers they add him and Blake to the groupchat they have with Kateaaron’s, Kevin’s, and Allison’s kids.

Later, when Elliot goes to college at PSU, he and Abram room together. They become even more attached at the hip (impossible) and Elliot becomes infatuated with Abram in a totally normal way that he eventually figures out by spring break is definitely bc he wants to fuck him. But Elliot is chaotic and too anxiety ridden to ever make a move so he bides his time being innocently flirty that comes off as being silly, and doesn’t complain when Abram wraps his arms around him or lets him sleep back to back in Abram’s bed after Elliot has a bad nightmare or can’t turn his brain off at night.

Eventually, sophomore year when they live in a house with 3 other guys, Elliot climbs into Abram’s bed face down after a night out, almost half on top of Abram. They’re literally both so drunk. “You’re in my bed,” Elliot slurs. “S’my bed, babe”. Elliot lifts himself up on his elbow over Abram’s (warm and shirtless) chest. “Who you callin babe?” Abram giggles lowly and Elliot leans down and kisses his cheek, “You can be my babe, babe” he boops Abram’s nose and giggles drunkenly, and his head is dipped low already when he lets his lips lightly press down on Abram’s chin, simply touching, before actually pressing a kiss there after a second. Abram’s hand comes up just as he presses that second kiss down, tangling into Elliot’s hair, and when Elliot pulls his head back up Abram’s grip tightens. Abram tilts his chin up and kisses just beside Elliot’s mouth, pulling him down fully and kissing him deep after the two pause against each other for less than a moment.

Aka, they hardcore make out. We’re talking ass grabbing, lib biting, neck sucking, Elliot straddling Abram, a bit of dry humping, Abram pressing him down into the mattress and moving down to-

Anyway, when they wake up Elliot runs to the bathroom connected to Abram’s room to throw up, and when he notices Abram come to the doorway he says “Dude, you sucked my dick” into the toilet bowl “you’re, like, really good at it, too” immediately wretches again. And it’s probs the hazy hangovers, but Abram says, “Yeah, been wanting to do that for a while” “Thank god, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that since last year… Hey, B?” Abram hums and Elliot doesn’t even lift his face from his arms over the toilet seat before asking “Wanna go out with me?” cue gagging, but luckily Abram splashes his face w water and leans down to just kiss the back of Elliot’s neck “oh that was hot” Elliot mumbles. “Yes, I’ll go out with you” “Thanks… Hey B?” another hum “Can you start the shower and also kill me while you’re at it?” “Whatever you want, babe”

Junior year Abram has to live at Fox Tower but Elliot and the other 3 guys stick together. Except Abram is closer with these guys so he ends up sleeping in Elliot’s bed like 4-5 nights a week. Elliot is an absolute THEIF of clothes too, like if Abram comes over he’s going home without a hoodie.

Elliot calls him B or Bram, most recently babe. Abram calls him baby, El, and sometimes sugar when they’re alone.

Blake is queer too which Neil gets really relieved by because how tf do u give a girl the talk. Turns out Andrew had already done it bluntly and against her will when she first went on a date at 16.

Blake doesn’t go to uni but gets her associates at a community college and Allison somehow gets her an internship with a PR agency, shocking considering her no-filter and sailors mouth.

Aaron & Katelyn:

They have identical twin girls: Annalise and Addison.

The twins are… not planned… they’re 26 and Aaron’s in his last semester of med school while Katelyn is nearing the end of her first year of residency (bc exy players 5th year). Thankfully Aaron had already been matched with the hospital Katelyn was at for his residency.

Aaron gets genuinely terrified when she tells him over the phone like 3 days before he was due to visit. He calls Andrew bc it’s too soon and this isn’t supposed to happen and he doesn’t know how to be a parent when the only one he had was a piece of shit and it’s the first time Andrew hears him audibly diss Tilda without adding “but she was my mom”. Andrew doesn’t say much, but he does say “You had a terrible childhood, yes?” “I mean, yeah” “Good. Don’t replicate it, and maybe yours won’t hate you.” and it’s enough.

All of this is thrown out the window when they find out they’re having twins. Aaron almost faints.

Annalise’s nickname is Annie and sometimes Anna by school friends. She has zero preference between the three options.

Addison rarely gets called her full name other than teachers, gets called Addie.

Andrew calls them both by their full names.

Katelyn has no middle name, so when her and Aaron get married she made Mackenzie her middle name and took Aaron’s surname.

Aaron calls his girls Ad/Addie-baby and Anna-bear.

Addie’s middle name is Mackenzie, Annie’s is Nichola…. you know why🥹

When Katelyn has to full name them she’ll typically yell “Annalise Nick!” and “Mackenzie!”

Aaron didn’t like the nickname Annie bc she’s a redhead and “orphan annie” felt weird bc he and Andrew are orphans. But Katelyn loved the name and it came naturally from others so he got over it.

Addie is bisexual aromantic. Annie is straight.

Addie goes to University of Georgia, and Annie goes to PSU for their really good speech pathology program (the twins are a year older than Jace/Blake and 2 years older than Abram/Elliot so Annie was the first kid to go to PSU).

The twins grew up in Chicago until they were 11, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Since they’re close to U Georgia, Addie tells her parents they’re only allowed to visit when she says so she’s not suffocated. Annie is more of a homebody so she not only loves that Dan is at PSU, but would let Kateaaron visit every weekend if they wanted (daddy’s girl).

Allison:

Maybe she gets married maybe she doesn’t, regardless I like to think she doesn’t for a while and ends up adopting a 3 year old named Sabrina.

Sabrina grows up to be a natural honey blonde just like Allison and coincidentally has her same smokey grey eyes.

Queen of nicknames: Sab, Bri, Brina, Briners, Reynolds.

Sabrina never puts a label on her sexuality and is pretty fluid with it, just doesn’t rlly give a fuck.

Grows up in Miami but they go to NYC every winter break and normally 1-2 times every summer. Grew up traveling with Allison but not enough that it affects her childhood.

Goes to NYU. Eventually helps Allison run, design, model for her fashion empire.

Has like a million followers on Instagram, has modeled for Victoria Secret, has been a brand ambassador for Moschino and goes to Paris fashion week w Allison every year once she’s 16.

Since the Foxes go on vacation every summer together, Sabrina grows up very close with the twin girls since they’re the same age. Brina and Addie *experimented* together when they were younger bc they didn’t wanna go to college not knowing anything. Since then, every time they see each other they end up hooking up. They’re very touchy feely with one another, but Brina is kinda like that anyway. Addie only tolerates her and Annie being like that.

They jokingly call their situation “best friends who bone”. Realistically, they’re in a (long distance lol) queerplatonic relationship that just includes sex. Annie secretly thinks Sabrina is aro as well but keeps it to herself bc it doesn’t matter to label it.

Kevin & Thea:

Amalia Day🫶🏼

Youngest of the kids, 3 years younger than Abram/Elliot. They weren’t necessarily concerned with the prospect of kids, so she isn’t born until Kevin is 32 and Thea is 36, not even a full year after she retires due to one too many knee injuries. She goes to Kevin one day after practice and kinda straight up says, “I want a child- No” she cuts him off “I’m 36, I want to be a mother, I want to be a mother with you, and I don’t want to be seventy when she goes off to college” but Kevin just says “She?” “Yes, I’m not bringing another spitting image of Kevin Day into this world”.

Clearly, they do have a girl. Despite Thea’s blunt and sometimes abrasive approach to some things, she takes to being a mother with all the gentle-ness that Kevin remembers of his own, and it’s enough to calm him about being a father (bc we all know Kevin was shitting his pants the whole time).

Amalia is tanner than Kayleigh was, but it’s unnerving how similar she looks to Kayleigh. It makes Wymack a complete pushover for her (though he always says no at first just to say he did).

Amalia grows up playing exy, of course, but also soccer and dance which pains Kevin and Thea reminds him to stfu. Thankfully for him, she’s really fucking good at Exy and gives up dance by the time she’s 8 and soccer by 11.

Plays for the US Teen Exy All Stars team (idk made it up). She plays offensive dealer. Her playing becomes Kevin’s dare I say obsession, but he becomes good (by force of Wymack, Thea, Andrew and surprisingly Jean) at being normal about it- not forcing exy down her throat and pressuring her. It’s good that she’s not a striker living up to Kevin’s legacy.

Amalia makes a Twitter when she’s 16 and it lasts about 3 weeks until Kevin finds out and makes her give him her password to monitor the account. Smart, giving the family’s status and her age, but she acts like it’s the end of the world.

If it wasn’t for Wymack, she would probably be an entitled brat. He keeps her humble along with the other kids.

Terrible fucking driver. Like holy shit.

Thea learned French over the years, so they raise her speaking English and French. As a teen she says she wishes she spoke German instead since Andrew, Aaron, Neil, Nicky, Erik, Annie, Addie, and Blake (eventually) all speak it.

She eventually goes to play for USC Trojans, plays pro, and goes to the Olympics as a 4th year senior in college.

Ages:

Sabrina Reynolds, the twins

Blake/Jace

Elliot/Abram

Amalia

All the kids are one year apart, with Amalia the youngest at 3 years younger than the boys and 5 years younger than Sabrina.

That’s all folks holy shit this was long. Maybe I’ll expand on it soon

[rileyslibrary]

if reqs r closed pls ignore this sorry im genuinely so blind so idk if u were taking them rn, but can i request “the captain will have to get involved pretty soon” situation from that fic where a new lieutenant joins, overall just like a part 2 where price does have to get involved 😭😭 like ghost is just so annoyed with this man

Hey reader! 🍫 No need to worry; I don’t have a “policy” on requests apart from the nsfw thingy (i don’t know how to write smut). Whatever comes, I accept it wholeheartedly! :)

Synopsis: Ghost and the new Lt. get in a fight. Price handles the situation accordingly and nobody is happy.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader, Captain John Price

Word Count: 1,112

Notes:

For those who haven’t read Part 1, here it is.

Lots of swearing and mentions of physical injuries. Other than that, it’s fluff.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Yup. Unfortunately, the Captain had to get involved in the end.

Not just him, though; an entire room full of trained soldiers had to jump in and separate Ghost from almost strangling Lt. Wilson, or “Mr Toothless,” as he often referred to him.

Why “Mr Toothless”, you may ask? Well, Ghost decided to baptize the new lieutenant with that nickname for a couple of reasons. 

First, he took your comment about Wilson’s fake teeth to heart. “If they’re fake,” he reasoned, “that means the fucker is already toothless and wears veneers to cover ’em up.”

And when you told him that’s not true since some people undergo cosmetic surgery to improve something they might have suffered an injury from, Ghost came up with his second reason as to why the new lieutenant is—or rather will be—toothless.

“Might have suffered an injury?” He contemplated. “Well, he’s about to suffer another one when I knock them out again.”

So, it was either “Mr. Toothless over there” or “Mr. Future Toothless one again.” Whatever the case, Ghost never called him by his real name, which started to piss off Lt. Wilson a whole lot. And that’s how it all escalated.

The breaking point came while at the briefing room, with Price at the head of the table and the two lieutenants seated across from each other. The rest of the team was strategically scattered around, avoiding being too close to Riley or Wilson. They were like furnaces, ready to burst at any time and burn you along with them, so you all figured it was best to stay as far away from them as possible.

Price was dividing the teams for the new mission: Team Alpha (Ghost’s Team) had to reach the target’s point by air, while Team Bravo (Wilson’s Team) would travel by land. The tipping point was when Price absentmindedly assigned you to Wilson’s team. Being Ghost’s Achilles’ heel, you were enough to light up a spark in the furnace. Wilson, on the other hand, was, in fact, a motherfucker. He knew that you, being assigned to his team, would piss Ghost off, so he turned towards you and winked upon hearing your name.

“Awesome,” he said, “doll’s with me.”

“Call them a doll again,” Ghost replied, “and I’ll make you as shiny and smooth as a Ken.” A threat that seemed nonsensical then but became clearer over time. And it wasn’t funny at all. See, Ken dolls lack organs, including a brain, heart, and, as Ghost hinted, a certain... anatomical feature.

And, as you stand in front of Ghost at Price’s office, tending to his cut lip and bruised eye, questions swirl in your mind. First and foremost, why is Ghost so obsessed with Lt. Wilson’s bones and limps? How was he planning to execute such a horrendous action? And how did he manage to leap onto the table and kick Wilson in the face like Leonidas did in the movie “300”?

“You fucked up big time, Simon,” Price warns Ghost as he paces around the room with his hands on his waist.

“He started it,” Ghost retorts.

“No,” Price shouts, running towards Ghost and inching away from his bruised-up face, “you landed the first kick, and then things escalated faster than a wildfire in a dry forest.”

Ghost sighs. “How is he?” He asks.

You look at him, shocked. This guy amazes you. All he wanted was to kick Wilson right in the face, and now he’s worried about his health.

“He is fucked; that’s how he is,” Price replies, “and you’re fucked too.”

“What’ll happen now?” Ghost asks

Price lets out a sharp chuckle. Not one of entertainment, for sure. Something that hints you’re both about to find out.

“I’m relieving Lt. Wilson of his duties in the field and relocating him to another position,” the Captain announces.

“Good,” Ghost replies. “At least he’ll be out of my business for a while.”

“Oh, on the contrary brother,” Price smirks, “he’ll be all up in your business now.”

You stop treating Ghost’s wound and turn to Price. “W-where exactly are you relocating, Lt. Wilson, Captain?” You ask, confused.

Price approaches you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, now both facing Ghost.

“I’m putting Wilson in the same office as you two,” Price says, smiling. “That is until you and him sort out your… issues.”

Ghost doesn’t react. He stretches his neck while looking at Price.

“You think I wouldn’t find out what the apple of discord was?” Price whispers at Ghost, “You and him either become best friends, or you’re both out.” He says. He removes his hand from your shoulder, adjusts his hat, nods at you, and walks out of the room.

You turn towards Ghost, who’s now leaning on his legs, looking at the floor.

“Look at me,” you command, “I still need to patch that lip of yours.”

He obeys and looks up. You sigh. As much as you trust Price and his strategic decision to put the three of you in the same room, you fear that the ball is now in your field. Juggling Ghost’s outbursts was something you learned to handle with skill and prowess. But including Lt. Harris in the equation is like putting two starving lions in a cage with an antelope.

“Why?” You ask, as you treat his bottom lip, “Why act so stupidly when you know it is you that I fancy?”

He looks away and shrugs. “He called you a doll.”

“And look where we are now, Simon,” you say. “Price gave you your last chance, and we get to have Mr Toothless with us at the office.”

“Won’t be an office anymore, love,” he mutters, “it’ll be a dollhouse full of Barbie and Ken dolls.”

You smile and lift his chin up with your fingers. “So, if I’m Barbie and he’s Ken,” you say, bringing your face closer to his, “who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Action Man, love.” He says and tries to wink with a swollen, already shut, black eye.

———————————————————————

Part 3 ->

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Oooh you do yandere stuff?? Can I please have something for yandere Joshua Graham, either headcanons or the alphabet would be great!

Yandere Joshua Alphabet

➼ Word Count » 1.7k ➼ Warnings » yandere themes ➼ Genre » Romantic, Yandere

Affection - How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Joshua shows his affection through how he shelters you. He hates it when you leave the camp without him, and does everything he can to ensure you won't end up being a target for the White Legs or any other Legionary assassin that may come for him again. He's fully aware of the influence Ceasar has and would take this aspect of your relationship very seriously. You won't leave without someone else going with you. He simply won't allow it.

Blood - How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

In a normal relationship, Joshua would be more hesitant to show how violent he can get. But, in this situation, all the drive to hide who he really is goes out the window. He's willing to go as far as he needs to when it comes to you. Anyone necessary. The tribals, your companions, and even Daniel. He'd slaughter them all if it meant you'd be safe. He'd even do it in front of you.

Cruelty - How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

No. He thinks it's rude. It's not your fault that you aren't as experienced as he is. In fact, the whole reason he'd abduct you is to be able to keep a better eye on you. Making fun of you for something that was inevitably going to happen isn't something he's prone to doing.

Darling - Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He's going to have you baptized, whether you want to or not, but besides that, he wouldn't dream of forcing you to do anything you didn't want to.

Exposed - How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

There are times when it feels as if you don't even know the man. He's quiet and incredibly closed off, even to you. He'll try to discreetly tell you about himself through bible verses or poetic words, but other than that, he's not jumping for you to learn about his past with the Legion any time soon. He wants you to love and trust him, not despise him.

Fight - How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He understands it. This world is harsh, of course, your instinct is to fight him. However, after the first week of staying with him, he hopes you’ll calm down and finally just accept that you’ll never get away from him.

Game - Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He won’t. If you try and escape the humble home he’s managed to set up for you both in Zion, he’s going to be upset. Even with all the knowledge he’s told you about the White Legs and all those around who want to hurt you, and you still want to try your luck? He’ll be disappointed, to say the least. He expects you to have more instinct than that.

Hell - What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

He's always taken his philosophies seriously, even when he was in the Legion. So, if he ever overhears you saying something he deems to be blasphemous towards his religion, you're going to have a very hard time calming him down. He'll force you to pray out loud to the Lord and ask for forgiveness until he's satisfied. It doesn't matter to him if it takes hours, he refuses to let you be shunned to Hell for a sorry mistake such as the one you committed. What kind of husband would he be if he didn't seek to save you from God's wrath?

Ideals - What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

If he had it his way, you’d be the perfect housewife, staying home to cook and clean while he went out and did whatever. Some Legion habits never left him, and coming back to a loving spouse who’s prepared to comply with his every whim is one of them. Just the perfect nuclear family.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets very quiet when he's jealous, preferring to be silent rather than blatantly lashing out at whoever is triggering these feelings. He thinks it's stupid that he gets so upset at the tribals for simply being around you. It's not like you'd leave him - not like you could - so why is he so stressed? He'll pray and go on walks to try and combat his jealousy, it's one of the only things he actively tries to work on.

Kisses - How do they act around or with their darling?

He acts as any spouse would. He kisses you on your hands or on your cheeks to greet you, rests a gentle hand on your lower back when you're near him, and does everything he can to take care of you.

Love letters - How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

As he believes any man should: with trinkets and thought-out dates. He wants to court you the right way, even if you’re aware from the start that you’ve got no other choice other than to accept his advances.

Mask - Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

On the outside it doesn’t appear as if anything has changed, however he feels different. There’s an urge now, something that tells him to kill. He’s felt it before during his peak in the Legion, but now it’s come back and he’s not sure what else to do than to quench the thirst of fear that floods him by ensuring your safety. Maybe it’s God's will that’s enforcing him to protect you.

Naughty - How would they punish their darling?

He’d shout and maybe grab your face, but he couldn’t imagine going any farther than that. If he wants to get his point across then he’ll just let you feel the raw fear that getting chased by Legionaries gives you (only once, he doesn’t want you to be actually harmed), but enough to get you to listen.

Oppression - How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He’ll take away your right to leave the tribes camp, your right to your weapons, your right to your opinions, your right of religion - there’s not much he doesn’t have control over.

Patience - How patient are they with their darling?

Joshua thinks he's patient, but he has a clear temper. He'll be kind one moment then angry the next. Although he does his best to not take it out on you, it's still terrifying to witness. Sometimes you wonder if it'd just be best to listen and avoid his fits altogether...

Quit - If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No, he’s got it in his mind that God assigned him specifically to defend you and keep you safe, so if he ever were to fail that, he’d feel as if he were betraying the Lord's trust.

Regret - Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

How could he? You're better off this way. He's sworn to care for your every need. He'll feed you, give you access to water, cloth you, comfort you, bleed for you, house you - why should he feel guilty about doing you a favor? For loving you?

Stigma - What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Joshua has always had this need to worship in his life. It could be seen with how devoted he was to the Legion and the will of Caesar, then with God, and now with you. There's a primal urge within him to commit himself to wherever he feels most desired, and that just happened to be you.

Tears - How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

It shatters him, especially if you're acting like this because of something he did. He'll sit beside your curled-up form and whisper Bible verses and scriptures as a way to encourage and reassure you.

Unique - Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Vice - What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His religion is a massive weak point, and if you can somehow convince him that it was God's will for you to go elsewhere, he may just let you go. Granted, you'd have to be really good at persuading people. He's a logical man and won't just take your word for it so easily.

Wit’s end - Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally, but sometimes he forgets his own strength when it comes to handling you. He likes to brush it under the rug though, best not to think about it.

Xoanon - How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

In his mind, he's already won you over. Of course, he'll still go through the process of romancing you and won't ever stop doing that, but his delusions tell him that you've already fallen for him. One thing about Joshua, however, is that he almost sees you as a second Christ. If you ask him to do something, he'll do it no questions asked. But, in the same sense, he's paranoid that you'll be crucified just like the Lord and is constantly looking out for that certain 'Judas' that will betray you.

Yearn - How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a day. The second he feels different around you compared to others, he's got it in his head that you're a divine being or, at the very least, someone God wanted him to meet.

Zenith - Would they ever break their darling?

He hopes to 'break you in' to his way of life, but he hopes that it won't have to be violent or over the top in any way. He's certain you'll come around to his way of thinking soon enough, even if you need a little shove.

[hihomeghere]

Baptized by Fire : Chapter one

Summary : After running from your past you find yourself facing certain death out in a blizzard. Thankfully you’re rescued, but what happens when you have to ride out the rest of the winter with the two men who rescued you? An RDR2 AU where Arthur followed Charles to Canada. Arthur x reader x Charles. Word count : 4.3k (I’m pretty proud of this one not gonna lie) Warnings/tags : Abuse, bruises, blood, guns, talk of death, religious themes, nudity, reader has female genitalia and is referred to as ‘she’, cursing, Arthur had TB but survived and now has chronic issues because of it, let me know if I missed any.

Next

You had never cared for the cold. Why your family had decided to settle where the ground was covered in frost and snow most months out of the year was beyond you. You tried your hardest to spend as little time outside during the winter months. Taking as long as possible to complete your tasks inside before venturing out into the cold, even if it cost you a beating. Now you found yourself completely at a blizzard's mercy. The wind was nearly deafening, the force of it causing you to stumble through the thick blanket of snow. Your boots doing little to keep out the cold, having lost feeling in your toes shortly after you ran from the one place you had called home. 

If you could even call it ‘home’. The events of the last day playing over in your mind. Your fathers words echoing in your ears.

“Damn stupid child!” He yelled, his words slurred as he stumbled towards you. You ran to get out of his grasp, his hand grabbing a hold of your hair. You yelped, tears stinging your eyes as you were pulled back into his chest. Your scalp ached as he pulled your head back at an unnatural angle. “You never done me any good, never!” He hissed in your ear, his breath reeking of liquor. You felt the hot tears roll down your cheeks as you clawed at the hand holding your hair. Successfully digging your nails into his flesh as he cried out in pain, throwing you to the floor. 

“Fucking bitch!” He spit, his foot landing a blow to your ribs, leaving you gasping for breath. “It’d do you good to learn some damn respect!” He spit, turning his back to you as he went to grab another bottle. You clutched at your side, sucking in any air that you could use to fill your lungs. Each breath burning like hot coals.

Your hands grabbed for anything to help you get back to your feet. Wrapping around the back of a chair as you pulled yourself to your feet. What happened next was a blur. You didn’t even realize you had grabbed the shotgun off the mantle until it kicked back. Your arms aching as you stumbled backwards. Your finger falling off the trigger as your back hit the wall. Your eyes fell upon the body of your father, gasping on the ground. Blood pooling under him as his mouth opened and closed like a damn fish. 

The gun slipped out of your grasp as your hands flew to cover your mouth. Bile spewed between your fingers as it shot up your throat and out your mouth. You gagged and spit, collapsing in on yourself as you sunk to the floor. Tears stinging your eyes as you retched.

You don’t know how long you watched him. Each slow breath was accompanied by the sick gurgle of blood. At some point the sound stopped, along with his heart. Whether it was minutes or hours later you didn’t know. What you did know was something made you run. It could have been the sickly stench of blood, or his cold unblinking stare. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was now no undoing what was done. That you had fought and now you were fleeing.

You had left the house with only the clothes on your back. A terribly foolish thing in hindsight. Now you were going to meet a similar fate as your father, freezing to death out in the cold. At least someone would find your fathers body, yours on the other hand would be lost until spring. Even then, it was more likely for an animal to find it than a person. The thought of some animal gnawing on your bones sent a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures. You clutched your hands together, trying to rub feeling back into your fingers, but to no avail. Your legs would no longer move, fighting against the signals sent by your brain. 

Up ahead sat a dark figure on a horse, a pale horse. The snow seemingly parted around him as he approached.

This was it. Death had come to claim your soul. You would die frozen and a murderer. God have mercy on you.

-

If you were in hell, the flames of damnation were much more pleasant than painful. The crackling of the fire was almost comforting, and the heat was heavenly. You blinked your eyes open, the flames in the fireplace dancing before you. You relished in the feeling of the warm pelts draped over your bare body. Bare body? Your cheeks burned as you pulled the furs tighter around you. Whoever had rescued you, if you could call it a rescue, you hadn’t decided yet- had stripped you as well. 

“Charles, she’s awake.” A gruff southern voice cut through your thoughts. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, fear shot through you like a lightning strike as your eyes landed on a man sitting in a rocking chair. 

A man had rescued you. A man had stripped you.The fire no longer eased the trembling of your body as you scrambled backwards. Backing yourself into a corner.

His lips were set in a thin line, light stubble dusting his face. His blue eyes pierced through you as you meet his gaze. Something about him seemed so familiar, although his piercing gaze made you lower your eyes. 

The other man’s, Charles, heavy footsteps caught your attention as he walked over to the unnamed man. Dark skin, long hair, chestnut brown eyes. A scar that ran along his cheek like a lightning strike. Not one but two men.

“So she is.” He said to his partner, eyeing you like you might bolt any second. Which you had thought about, but you could still hear the storm raging outside. It would be a death wish to go out in that again, you realized that now. “Excuse me miss?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head slightly.

You swallow thickly, only realizing how damn dry your throat was as you tried to speak.

“Where am I?” You asked, trying to put on a false front of confidence as you pulled the skins tighter around your body.

“About a mile north of where I found you out stumbling in the snow.” Charles answered, taking a tentative step toward you.

“Where are my clothes?” You asked, your stomach dropping as he inched closer. You pulled the furs tighter around your naked body, knowing full well that either of them could easily overpower you. If they wanted to carry out some sick and twisted torture, you would be at their mercy. 

Charles raised his hands in a small surrender, “There, had to hang them up to dry.” He said, motioning to a primitive clothesline near the fire. Something you must have missed when crawling away from them. “The fire wouldn’t have done you any good if you were in those wet clothes. It’s why we… well you know.” He said, “They should be dry by now, you were out for quite awhile.” Your eyes flick between the two men and your clothes. Charles takes two steps back, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor of the cabin. You scrambled forward, snatching your clothes off the line before retreating back to your corner. The other man scoffs, crossing his arms as he looks out the window at the storm.

“The hell were you doing out in the middle of a goddamn blizzard with nothin’?” 

“Arthur-“ Charles' warning tone cut through the cabin as he met Arthur’s eyes.

“It’s an honest question.” He huffed as he looked up at Charles, his jaw set. “No one would go out into something like that if they weren’t runnin’ from somethin’.” He said, giving Charles a look. You swallowed thickly, pursing your lips as the two men seemed to communicate without speaking.

“What were you doing out there then?” You asked, breaking the tense silence. “Were you running from something?”

“I wasn’t the one who was out there.” He hissed, turning his fierce gaze back to you.

“I was.” Charles answered, so he was the one who rescued you.

“If it was me I would have left your sorry ass out there.” Arthur mumbled, Charles shot him a glare before he looked back at you. 

“I got lost.” You said, pulling your warm clothes against your body.

“Yeah no shit.” Arthur huffed, “But that don’t answer my question. What were you doing out there in the first place?” He said, narrowing his eyes. 

“I-“

“She’s been through enough hasn’t she?” Charles cut you off, his baritone voice raising as he glared at Arthur. Arthur clenched his jaw, matching Charles glare. A moment passed as the two glared at each other before Arthur’s shoulders softened, letting out a sigh as he sat back in the rocking chair. Whatever unspoken argument they had had, Charles had won. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and we can have a civilized conversation.” Charles said, shooting Arthur a look.

You stared at the two men, frozen in their gaze.

“Oh for Christsake.” Arthur huffed before turning his head away from you. Charles followed suit, averting his eyes. You hastily put on your clothes, the residual warmth from the fire seeping into your bones. 

“You can look now.” You said, once you were fully clothed. Arthur let out a sigh, his gaze falling on you once more. 

“You’ll have to put up with us until the storm passes.” Charles said, crossing his arms as he looked at you. Sensing your unease he spoke again, “I know you have no reason to trust us, but we did save your life. Not to mention, if we wanted to hurt you we would have by now.” He said with a small shrug. You couldn’t deny the truth. They had seen you naked and at your most vulnerable, and they had done nothing to harm you. In fact, they had done everything to help you.

You were a fool for thinking you could survive on your own. You had no money, leaving all your possessions at your fathers house. The only clothes you had were the ones on your back. You regretted not thinking it through, not having a plan, but you didn’t regret taking that shotgun off the mantle.

“I won’t- I won’t be a burden to you two.” You said swallowing thickly. Arthur scoffed under his breath. “I can cook, clean, and mend anything that needs it.” You said, reinforcing your statement as your cheeks burned.

“It won’t be necessary.” Charles said, shaking his head.

“I insist.” You said cutting him off as you caught Arthur’s eye.

“If she insists, let the little lady help out.” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile on his lips.

-

Over the next couple of days you learned all the ins and outs of the small cabin. There was a main great room, with two bedrooms off of it. 

Charles had given up his bed, letting you take over one of the bedrooms. Said he wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cot in Arthur’s room. You had assumed the two men had been living together longer than they’d had this cabin. They had most likely been sharing close quarters for awhile. Charles' style seemed to be minimal, the only personal items being a family picture and a few beaded necklaces. The room was hardly lived in, you supposed it was only used to sleep in. You didn’t dare ask to go into Arthur’s room, not wanting to spread what little hospitality he had towards you too thin.

Arthur had hardly warmed up to you over the few days you had been stuck together. He didn’t leave his chair often, and when he did he grumbled about his pains. Something about the cold caused his body to ache, you didn’t push for more information. Because of this he moved the rocking chair closer to the fireplace, which was always lit. You’d catch him staring off into the flames, an almost melancholy expression on his face. 

You did your best not to be caught staring at the handsome man, he didn’t take too kindly to you ‘watching him’.

Charles wasn’t necessarily more talkative than his counterpart, but he didn’t mind your eyes on him. He tried in his own ways to loosen the tension between the three of you. He had taken you up on your offer to cook, although he couldn’t seem to stay out of the kitchen. Whether that be helping you chop up vegetables, or just to share your company. 

Although he would leave for an hour or two every day to tend to the livestock they kept. you had learned that that was why Charles had been out in the storm that night. One of their cows had escaped the barn, instead Charles had brought you home. 

“Charles.” Arthur pleaded, his voice low as he stood nearly chest to chest with Charles. He had been in the middle of putting on his snow gear when Arthur had stopped him.

“How many times do we gotta have this conversation?” Charles sighed, shaking his head. You pretended not to notice the tense moment between the two of them. 

“I’m fine.” Arthur huffed, his hand brushing against Charles only for a moment before he crossed his arms, taking a step back. 

“You're not.” He huffed, “It’s about as cold as Colter out there. We hardly survived that last time and now with your-“

“Fine.” Arthur snapped, storming back to the rocking chair. Charles sighed, hesitating by the door before he continued suiting up.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Charles said to the two of you. You gave him a small smile, Arthur on the other hand pretended he hadn’t heard him.

It was silent after Charles left. Arthur scribbled away at his journal while you tidied up around the cabin. You didn’t mind the work, you hadn’t wanted to take advantage of their kindness. You were dusting the mantle above the fireplace, clearing away tiny spiderwebs. Gently moving two hand carved wooden sculptures. One a bison, the other a buck with a great set of antlers. When your eyes fell on a rather detailed drawing of a small family. A man, with dark hair and jagged scars across his face. The woman with as equally dark hair, her hand resting on the shoulder of a young boy. 

“Is this your family?” The question left your lips before you had the chance to think twice about opening your mouth. 

Arthur’s expression darkened as he raised his eyes from the page. 

“Sort of.” He grumbled, letting out a sigh. He got up, walking over to you before taking the drawing off the mantle. He stared at it for a moment before his gaze shifted back over to meet yours. “My brother.” He said pointing to the man with the scars, “His wife and son.” His jaw was clenched tight as he set the drawing back in its place. 

“What happened to them?” You asked, looking up into his stormy blue eyes.

“What happens to all of us.” He sighed. 

“I’m sorry.” You said softly, looking up at their smiling faces. He grunted, but it quickly turned into a nasty dry cough. He doubled over, holding onto the mantle as he sputtered. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, your brows pulling together as you placed your hand on his shoulder. He tensed under your hand, his body shaking as pounded on his chest.

“Fine.” He said, clearing his throat. You removed your hand from his shoulder, feeling a deep pull in your belly as you stepped back. You bumped into his chair, catching yourself on the wooden back. Your eyes fell onto the open journal on the seat. Arthur followed your gaze, scrambling to close the book.

“Oh I-“ Heat flooded your cheeks, “don’t worry I can’t read.” You chuckled nervously as you looked down.

“You can’t-“ Arthur stuttered, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you in disbelief. “No one… no one ever taught you?” He asked. 

“No, no my father he-“ You bit your bottom lip, your gaze on the wooden floor, “he didn’t think a woman should be educated.” You mumbled. 

“What a goddamn simpleton.” He growled, clenching his jaw. His expression set into a scowl as he stood there with his hands on his hips. You raised your head to meet his eyes, a nervous smile on your lips as you tried to play it off.

“It’s alright.” You said, shaking your head, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. It would get you out of this pointless conversation. It wasn’t like you could attend school, not at your age. 

“No it ain’t alright.” He huffed, closing his eyes as though it was physically paining him. “You- you ought to know how to read and write. Everyone should.” He said, shaking his head. He coughed again, although this time it seemed almost forced. It was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the crackling fire as the two of you avoided each other's gaze. 

”I could teach you.” He mumbled.

“You could?” Your eyes widening at his offer.

“It ain’t nothin’.” He said, crossing his arms, looking off to the side. “We can start tomorrow.”

“Thank you- I mean it, thank you Arthur.” 

“Don’t thank me,” He said, shaking his head as he picked up his journal. “I haven’t taught you anything yet.”

The cabin door swung open, the howling of the wind only intensifying without a barrier. Charles quickly entered, shutting the door behind him as he wiped snow off of his clothes and hat. He glanced between you and Arthur.

“Storm might break tonight.” He said, pulling off his gloves as he set them down on the kitchen table. 

“Finally some good news round here.” Arthur said, sitting back down in the rocking chair.

-

The three of you sat down for supper at the wooden table in the middle of the cabin. You and Charles had managed to put together a nice stew. Thankfully the two of them understood the power of stocking up for winter. Something your father on the other hand did not. By early spring your clothes had normally begun to be too big on your frame, needing to be taken in to fit you. If you were to stay the rest of the winter you had no doubt you would have the opposite problem. The thought of staying with Arthur and Charles had become more and more appealing every day. Especially now that you might have the chance to better yourself. Learning to read and write, the thought of being able to pick up a book and actually understand the words. A smile twisted at your lips as you tried to hide your eagerness. 

“I was thinking about bringing the tub in.” Charles said, breaking the silence as his spoon scraped along the bowl. “Might take awhile to fill it but it’d be worth it.” He said, shoveling a spoonful of stew into his mouth as he shrugged. 

“Is it still on the porch?” Arthur asked, his tone almost aloof as he leaned back in his chair. Charles nodded, not raising his head to meet Arthur’s piercing gaze. 

“Do you suppose I could wash up, too?” You asked, looking from one man to the other. They shared a look, before turning back to you.

“I don’t see why not.” Charles nodded, “You can take the first bath.” Returning his attention back to his bowl. 

-

Arthur retired to his room as soon as the last bucket of hot water was added to the tub. Giving you privacy as he awaited his turn in the water.

You stood beside the tub, hesitating as you looked into the steaming water. You would have to wash your clothes in the tub along with your body. While you hadn’t necessarily been thinking when you ran out into the blizzard. You wished you would have had some forethought to pack a bag. It wasn’t like you could just hang your wet clothes by the fire and walk around the damn cabin naked. The thought of the two men seeing you like that once more sent heat throughout your body.

“Everything alright?” Charles' deep voice cut through your thoughts as he set the bucket down.

“I-I don’t have any clean clothes.” You said after a moment, rubbing your arms. Charles' head perked up at this, his eyebrows raising.

“Of course,” He said, his expression returning to a neutral one, “I can get you some of ours to wear while you clean yours.” He got to his feet, “Don’t undress just yet, I’ll be back.” He said before walking into Arthur’s room. You let your hand fall into the water, testing the temperature. Almost letting out a small moan as the warmth enveloped your hand. You couldn’t wait to climb in.

Charles returned with a sheepish smile, holding a flannel shirt and pants.

“I doubt you’ll fit into the pants but it’s the best we could do on short notice.” He chuckled, handing them to you. You grabbed them, your fingers brushing against his, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Thank you.” You said covering the hitch of your breath with a small cough.

“You’re welcome.” He said with a small nod, turning his broad back to you as he walked back to his room. “Knock against the wall once you are done.” He said before heading inside.

You set the fresh clothes beside the tub, your fingers unable to work as fast enough as you shedded your own. Unable to wait any longer, you stepped into the warm water. Your nipples hardened at the sudden shift in temperature.

This time you couldn’t contain the pleased hum that left your lips as you sank down into the water. The burn was pleasant on your sore body, easing the ache in your ribs. You grabbed the soap off the chair beside the tub. Lathering it up in your hands before you scrubbed your body. The marks along your ribs were no longer an angry purple. Now they were fading into a pale yellow. 

You were thankful neither Charles or Arthur had said anything about them. It was embarrassing enough to take those beatings. Pointing them out would have been like rubbing salt in the wound. 

But there would be no more beatings. No more. You were free, you could start over. You started to form a plan, cleansing yourself of your old life so you could start anew.

A baptism of fire. Once you could read and write, or once the snow melted enough, you would return home. You would bury your father, or feed him to the wolves, and start your new life.

You were thoroughly pruney when you got out of the tub. Quickly dressing and rushing to ‘your’ room. You knocked against the wall once, running your fingers through your hair as you prepared for bed. 

You felt like a new person as you climbed under the mismatched quilt. You could hear Arthur, or maybe it was Charles, moving around in the living room. No doubt getting undressed and getting into the warm water. The wind no longer howled at the window, Charles was right about the storm breaking.

Although now you could clearly hear voices whispering in the main room. You knew you shouldn’t have listened, should have just ignored it and went back to bed. 

Instead, you pulled back the blankets and slipped out of bed. You crept over to the door, pressing your ear against it.

“Don’t call me that.” Arthur huffed, his voice muffled by the door 

“Why not? It’s not like she’s here.” Charles responded.

“Enough about her, can’t we just- just enjoy our time without her.” He grumbled. Your brows pinched together, a frown tugging at your lips. You didn’t think you were that annoying. You had tried to be helpful, you thought that they might have even been thankful for what you had done. Instead they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.

“Fine.” Charles said, letting out a sigh. You could hear the water sloshing around in the tub. “We can’t send her out on her own.”

“You think I don't know that?” Arthur hissed, “But she shouldn’t- she shouldn’t be here with us.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s good, Charles.” He paused, coughing. “She’s good and you know the kind of people we are.” It was silent, the only thing you could hear was your breathing. 

What did he mean ‘kind of people they are’? They had been nothing but respectful and hospitable people. Or so you thought. 

“We aren't those people anymore-“

“You were always a better man than me- my sins, I can’t just-“ you heard a splash, “wash the blood off my hands.” You covered your mouth, dampening the small gasp that left your lips. A killer, you were staying with criminals. Although, were you any different? You were a murderer, killing your father without a second thought.

“Stop.” Another pause, “We did what we had to to survive.”

“Don’t give me that shit-“ he’s overcome by another coughing fit. “What I did- that was for my own gain, and I’m paying for it every day.”

“Enough.” Charles cut him off, “Enough about her.” 

You pulled back from the door, crawling back to your bed as silently as possible. You had heard enough. This didn’t change anything, you reminded yourself, your plan was the same. Once you were able, you would leave this cabin and never look back.

[hana-no-seiiki]

WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 1)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

A lil’ platonic yanderes harley and joker in the mix too hehe

gender neutral reader.

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. reader has schizophrenia. reader has a massive fear of abandonment. harley and joker only feed to that. a r s o n among other crimes. gaslighting. manipulation. implied r*pe (by reader im so sorry you guys) reader is interested in all genders.

summary: meet jinx, gotham’s loudest, most explosive villain. no one knows who they really are, or if jinx is really even their name. but one thing’s for sure — they’ve got a lot of people chasing after them and their reasons aren’t so noble.

status: unedited

[ ACT TWO OUT NOW ]

Considering Jinx was inspired by Harley Quinn. You’re probably her protégé. Her darling little child with Joker.

YOUR ORIGINS:

She saw you in the aftermath of the explosion. Cold and alone. Fire roaring behind you despite the heavens pouring its heart out, as if it was desperately trying to wash your tears and pain away.

She saw your bruises and a girl a little older than you walk away.

Her heart ached for you. No child deserved to be put in that kind of position, so she stepped in and made herself known.

“ I . . . I only wanted to help . . . Don’t leave me . . . Don’t . . .

You muttered.

Joker, who came here to marvel at the chaos such an explosion would present smiles maniacally.

You. You were the one that did this.

This beautiful wreckage and an equally beautiful child.

You were practically begging to be moulded into a weapon.

You charged at them both as they got closer, and while Harley was ready to defend her man - even hurt you if she has to - they did not expect what came next.

You just, held unto Joker’s right leg.

“ She’s not my sister . . . No . . . if she was she wouldn’t leave me . . . “

You were far too emotional for his liking. But nonetheless. A boon can always be found in a curse. That is, your desire for revenge.

He takes one look at Harley before picking your small body into his arms.

“ Who cares about fools like them, little one? They don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

His smile never stopped widening, yet even as a kid you never saw it as creepy or unnerving. In fact, it only reminded you of the smiles you used to draw on your nail bombs.

“All we ever truly have is ourselves. “

“So, smile. Don’t let your tears bring you down.”

Moulding you into the perfect weapon was easy.

Having a psychiatrist as a partner did help a lot in your development.

All it took was a few reminders of that fateful day before you began obediently following their rules and instructions.

You were a genius and since Harley kept protesting against it. You weren’t baptized into a vat of acid like the couple was.

Now, Harley and Joker are the worst possible parents you can ask for. So unlike Arcane’s Jinx. You are way way more unhinged. Not to mention, horny and materialistic.

As you grew up, you began to take interest in intentionally hurting people just for the sake of it. Stealing things was just a normal Tuesday for you. Being successful in your endeavors for once, and having bigger stacks of cash felt exhilarating.

The women and men were amazing. Your pseudo parents being who they were, didn’t really care if you were a sexual deviant or a pervert. When your hormones started kicking in they let you do whatever you want. Even giving you some of the people he held hostage as a toy to play with. If you have the capability of getting someone pregnant/or getting pregnant yourself they wouldn’t really care about the baby but you knew them well enough to know they’d use the kid as a way to manipulate you so you were careful in that aspect anyhow.

Harley noticed that when laying with women you’d often call out your sister’s name or call them sis by itself.

Sick. Disgusting. Is what a normal mother would think after finding out such a fact.

But to her you were just growing up so quickly. She had convinced Joker to go ahead and kill your sibling a long time ago behind your back and was growing anxious with the thought of you hating her and ruining this happy family dynamic (she had in her head)!

So she starts bringing you to more heists in disguise. Always keeping a close eye on you so that if any of those stupid heroes and vigilantes get any close, and you too far. She’d know as soon as possible.

It’s safe to say you grew up pretty spoiled, but even then you were hungry for more.

You see, even if they (Harley and Joker) weren’t careful with their “parenting” approach. They were careful with keeping you hidden from the Dark Knight himself.

Not that they were scared you’d get hurt. They could always nurse you back up again. Harley actually enjoyed the times you’d gotten in the cross fire. More time to take care of you in her arms.

They were mostly scared of the Dark Knight stealing you. Afraid that he’ll take you away and turn you into a goody-two-shoes they wouldn’t recognize anymore.

So as much as you were more involved it still felt like they were babying you.

It was your situation with you family all over again

But this time, this time you’ll show them…

You weren’t weak. And it’ll do them good to remember that.

YOUR RIVALRIES:

You made your debut at around the time Tim was still Robin.

You were his very own Joker. A menace to deal with. A person that only cared for the thrill that came with hurting and killing masses.

You were terrible. Evil. A demon he had to exorcise from this world.

A demon he fell hopelessly in love with.

He didn’t know how his feelings came to be. It may have been the amount of stress and pressure he was facing coupled with having to deal with your ass every damn day whether directly or indirectly. But he found himself yearning to see you at times. Getting warm when he thought of you. He felt solace knowing that no matter how many times he’d attempt to tear you down completely, you’d still come back to face him once again.

He was so guilty of his feelings. How could he fall for someone as heinous as you? You were the worst of the worst. But somehow that made things so much more better.

You were a taboo. A vice he couldn’t have. The thought of entering such a forbidden relationship excited him just cause it was just that — forbidden , a temptation that should always stay like that.

He somehow manages to gain the self control to stay away from you for a while.

But then came Damian and he was set to replaced. Just like that.

“Wow there Timmy Boy. You look like shit.”

“J-Jinx?! Why are you here? How do you know my name?!” He asked as if he didn’t know every single detail about you himself.

“I have to know my little birdie well don’t I?”

“What kind of archnemesis would Jinx be to their little Robin if they didn’t do a lil’ research?” You spoke in a higher, cutesy voice as if you were your handgun that you’ve affectionally named Zapper.

“Right you are Zapper! I would be a terrible rival. That wouldn’t do for a hero as great as Timmy!”

He thought that all his work was all for naught. All the hours he spent trying to prove himself was gone so fast.

But you reminded him of his place in this world. Of his position as a hero. Your rival.

The warmth in your eyes when you looked at him sealed the deal. There was no coming from this. He was yours as you were his.

“Only I can hurt you like this, toots. Don’t forget that.”

Little did you know that Tim took those words to heart and never let anyone else hurt him (and stay alive).

“Big Bat can replace you but you’ll always be the Robin in my heart !” You winked at him, signaling with one of your manicured fingers for him to smile. Which ended up almost scratching your cheeks.

Tim was confused (incredibly flustered, not to mention har—), why were you so kind to him all of a sudden. He knew you were the playful type but you were usually ruthless when it came to battle. You weren’t one to play with food for too long. For you to excuse him, much less help him in such a state.

Who were you and what did you do to his Jinx?

“OW hEy! I swear if you put that there Pow-Pow— I’ll—“ Tim heard you screeching out of view.

Scratch his doubts. Yep, you were definitely still his Jinx.

The Dark Knight knew who you were from the beginning.

He had his suspicions even before you came into the scene. With your knack to tag everything with neon spray-paints.

At first he thought you were a simple thug that Joker and Harley picked up. But the way they were sheltering you made it seem otherwise.

The regret he felt knowing that you were basically a child in their filthy hands and was now far too gone to save was immense.

If only he knew. You wouldn’t be in this situation.

While he was “dead” he found himself looking into you more. About the death of your biological parents and the way your sister abandoned you to Harley and Joker.

He felt pity for your childhood and a sense of kinship. Sure the incident may have been your fault but you were a child. How could you have known your actions would have such terrifying consequences.

If only you knew him when you were younger.

If only.

He was sure you’d be one of the greatest vigilantes alive.

“I knew you were alive.”

You looked down at Batman, staring while both of you were being doused by the rain. Thunder accompanying the sound of conversation.

He takes a defensive stance.

“I’m not going to fight ya, that’s Joker’s thing. And I know he’ll grill my ass if I stole his archnemesis.”

“What a loser!”

“Hey! He took us in. We should be more grateful!”

Bruce looked at you as you talked with a new, rather large, shark shaped gun. He had memorized the names of all your “companions” by now and was oddly excited and slightly unnerved by the new one.

“So, why’d you leave? Was it . . . was it on purpose?”

“No.”

“Then come back.”

He almost dropped all his plans with the way you told him that.

“Tim needs you . . . and your other sons too or whatever.”

“Come with me.”

“You crazy, old bat? Why would I—“

“I know what it feels like to have no family. Harley doesn’t love you. Joker doesn’t love anyone.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Well tough luck man. I don’t give a shit about love.”

You dropped down to his level. A thud resounds, loud enough to cut through the rainfall and thunder.

“Cause love never gave a shit about me.”

“We’ll have to refuse. Just get back to your sons, hero!”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I didn’t make it clear enough—

— I don’t think you have a choice in this matter, [Y/N].”

You like my writing? Follow my blog and maybe take a look at the fic linked below!

WHAT’S UP DANGER : Yandere Batfam x Miles Morales! Reader

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I discovered my best friend is following ARO on Instagram. When I confronted her over this horrific betrayal, she said, “I think I like her now!” My devastation knows no bounds.

I was discussing this with my boss, a fellow royal watcher, and we decided I need to make a PowerPoint presentation, complete with citations (we are lawyers, after all), “shining a light” on MM’s numerous atrocities and proven lies over the years. I thought you would be invaluable in such a venture. Any suggestions to include would be very much appreciated!

Old ask from March 18th

Ok, so I didn't mean to sit on this one for (checks calendar) 6 MONTHS. ohhh, that's worse than I thought. Sorry, anon. Your ask got completely buried.

Anyway. I actually have been keeping a list of Meghan's lies and falsities. I don't remember when I compiled it (I feel like it might've been a 2022 thing) and I forgot I had it for a very long time. We'll probably need to crowd-source some updates to this list.

So buckle up, y'all.

Grew up an only child

Never had relationships with Sam or Tom

Grew up poor eating Sizzler buffets for splurge dinners

Didn't know who Diana was

Didn't know that Diana did Panorama interview

Lied about having a SAG card to be cast in Suits

That she was being written off Suits because she was marrying Harry

Doesn't have any family except Doria

Paid for college herself with student loans

International relations and theatre degrees from Northwestern

Merch tour of Aussie with Jess

Didn't want to serve Archie on a silver platter

Couldn't do a photo call at the hospital after Archie's birth

Wasn't in contact with Oprah

Wasn't working with UK Vogue

Lilac blazers

Couldn't wear the same color as anyone else

Could only wear neutral clothes

Wasn't dressing her child like a Victorian ghost doll

Going to get her UK citizenship

Gave up her Hollywood team

Spectacle wedding for the public

Eloped three days before with the Archbishop of Canterbury

Loves her engagement ring

Received permission from Queen to name her Lilibet

Loves Africa

Loves charity work and philanthropy

Red carpet for wedding

No tabloids in the US

All Americans have a 5am work ethic

Paparazzi chases

Plagiarism

Korean spas as a kid

Collaboration with Scobie on FF

People letter

Archewell donations and income

Family she never had

Gave up everything

IVF twins

Pregnancy announcement not at Eugenie's wedding

Loves kids

Dog too old to fly

Dog hit by car

Couldn't decorate with royal collection

Kate made Meghan cry

Warm friendly relationship with Queen

Best boss ever

She made her own banana bread

Suicidal thoughts night of Cirque du Soleil

Advised by Obamas

Children refused titles because of racism

She refuses children's titles

Pen pals with Hillary Clinton

Witnessed the LA riots

Independent grassroots journalism

Hit the ground running

5'5

worked at the embassy when she only attended a study program

Didn't know she had to curtsy to the Queen

Didn't know how to curtsy

BRF took her passport, car keys

Not allowed to go out unless just for work

Climate change/private jets

Evicted from Frogmore

Royal Family refused to help Meghan with her mental health

That Meghan was silenced

Privacy in LA

Archie was denied 24/7 protection because he wasn't a prince

Family gossip about Archie's skin color

Palace forced Meghan to take her name off Archie's birth certificate

Egg in wedding food

Not allowed to have scents in church

Meghan said the palace was locking up the birth certificate

Angela refused hair trials

Bond girl

Fire in Archie's nursery

Linked, not ranked

Archie too young to fly (summer after his birth)

Lied about her age (to work in Hollywood, narrative since corrected since marrying in)

Belly padding

Bot farms on social media

Miscarriage

Zoom calls with Cambridges during lockdown

Zoom calls with the Queen during lockdown

Flowers on Philip's casket at funeral were from Sussexes

Sussexes were invited to the Beckham wedding

Royal christening for Lili

Lili baptized

Invited to the diplomatic reception before The Queen's funeral

BFF/dog-walking buddies with Jennifer Aniston

Photoshops the children's appearances

Jimmy Fallon interview in Dec 2022

Time 100th Anniversary coverage

Bodyguard 2

she’d have 40 photographers taking pictures when she did Archie’s school run.

Sussexes declined invitation to Westminster wedding

She made the strawberry jam herself

50 jars of jam

"The Bench" was a bestseller

Visiting/staying with Oprah (Oprah was across the country at her father's bedside)

All the times she said she'd be a secret presenter at Hollywood award shows

Uvalde

Can't tailor her clothes to fit because they're from small brands/labels.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 13 🍒

"Rough Ride"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,978

Summary: after sneaking around, Joel takes you on your first official date -- okay, so it's a little hole-in-the-wall bar the next county over. Just as a perfect night comes to an end, you see Joel's jealous side for the first time, and it leaves you craving more.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), takes place summer 2003, reader wears a dress and thong, groping, TW for unwanted grabbing (from a stranger), fistfight (Joel & stranger), jealous!Joel, Joel grabs reader, dubcon, rough sex, unprotected piv/creampie, mention of emergency contraceptive, anal, no use of y/n, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Author's note: this is the chapter that shows a darker side to Joel's personality. Please heed the tags. If this is not something you are in a good headspace to read then please skip.

Series Masterlist

It's almost a cruel kind of existence, to be so close yet so far from Joel. You're back to reality, doing the same mundane things you did before. Only now you look upon everything with a kind of wisdom, baptized with a secret knowledge that you can't tell anyone about, though you want to shout to the heavens how much in love you are with a certain Joel Miller.

You find time here and there to be together, mostly at your house when your cousin's gone. It's a thrill you never tire of, to be with him in this way, to meld your bodies together, sometimes slowly, savoring the feel of each other, other times a quick, impetuous coupling in the darkness of his living room or in his truck. He says you make him feel like a teenager again.

"I want to go on a date with you," you tell him one night, your arms wrapped around him as he picks you up from your shift at the cafe. You both lean against the truck in the empty parking lot. "I'm always hearing about everyone else's dates and we haven't gone on one yet."

Joel smiles and kisses the top of your head. "And where would you like to go?"

"Let's go out dancing," you say. "I'm dying to see you all dressed up."

"I ain't much of a dancer, sweetheart," he says, and when you look up at him you see him visibly blush. "Pretty sure my moves might even shock ya."

"Come on, Joel, it can't be that bad," you laugh. "Besides, I'm more interested in slow dancing with you." To tease him a little you softly grind your hips against his, and your heart feels like it's on springs when you feel him start to twitch and harden in his jeans.

"In that case I'm game. There's a little place about twenty miles south.. we're not bound to run into anyone we know." He kisses your hair again, smells the sweet mixture of coffee and your natural scent.

Joel picks you up on a Saturday night. You've dressed for the occasion in a sundress and cowboy boots, and your heart throbs to see the hunger in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He doesn't look so bad himself in a long sleeve button down shirt and a pair of Wranglers with boots of his own. "No hat?" you tease him as he opens the truck door for you.

"I'm not much of a hat man," he grumbles, giving your ass a little grab as you climb into the passenger seat. "You look amazin' by the way."

"So do you." Grinning, you settle into the seat as he gets in and you take off. "I'm not used to seeing you all dressed up."

He laughs a little. "Well, I don't get dressed up all that much, but I'll do it for you." Once he's settled into the direction you're going, his eyes dart over to you. "I just love lookin' at ya."

Your hand is on his lap as he drives, and he laces his fingers with yours. "And I love looking at you," you lean your head against the headrest and smile at him. The drive doesn't take very long, and your excitement only helps to distract you.

The town's welcome sign is so rusted you can't make out the name. In contrast the honky-tonk is small, but well-lit and in an older neighborhood. The parking lot is full and Joel has to park a further way down, but neither of you mind. It's a beautiful, if sweltering night and you walk together with your arms around one another's waists.

Inside, the little saloon is brimming over with people. Couples are on the dance floor as an old-fashioned jukebox provides the music. A place like this doesn't even have a DJ, which you find so charming, There's no one at the door to card you, probably because there's so many people, and because you look more mature paired with Joel. "I'm gonna get a beer first, you want anything?" he asks, lips close to your ear.

"Gin and tonic," you tell him, simply because you heard someone order it in a movie and it sounds good.

"Like hell," he shakes his head. "You ain't drinkin' that kinda stuff til you're old enough."

"Fine," you playfully roll your eyes. "A Shirley Temple, then. I'll find us a seat."

While he's at the bar, you look around, taking in the white lights strung up from the beams, the couples dancing boisterously to an Alan Jackson song, the scent of cigarette smoke and beer, the raucous laughter in the air, the feeling that you've stepped into another world altogether.

Glancing around you see a guy who looks only a few years older than yourself, tall, lean, in complete western wear. He catches your gaze and smiles, gives a little wink. You only smile and nod, not wanting to flirt with someone while you're waiting for Joel. When he returns with your drinks the other guy turns his attention elsewhere.

You sip your drink as Joel puts his arm around you, and you lean into his shoulder. He can barely take his eyes off you. You return his gaze, meeting him halfway as his lips press to yours, tasting the sweetness of the grenadine from your drink. "I shoulda meet you sooner," he murmurs, his lips millimeters from yours.

"If you met me any sooner our relationship would be illegal," you tease him, enjoying the redness that flushes over his cheeks. "But I know what you mean," you add in a whisper.

"You know it ain't like that," he tries to explain. "Sweetheart I'd love you if you were 28, or 38, or 48.."

You kiss him to stop his deluge of words. "Finish your beer and let's take a look at the jukebox," you tell him, and when he's done he takes your hand and follows you to the jukebox and check out the songs together.

"What song you want?" he asks, his hand stroking your lower back as he kisses the top of your head.

"Depends. Do you know how to two-step?"

"Of course. What kinda question is that?" But he's blushing and you know he's not telling the truth.

"Good!" You call his bluff and put a quarter in the jukebox, pressing the button for "Small Town Saturday Night" by Hal Ketchum. Joel's eyes light up as you bring him out to the dance floor. "You sure you know how?" you ask, after a couple minutes of him awkwardly shuffling his feet compared to your practiced steps.

"I did warn you earlier that dancin' ain't my strong suit," he chuckles, relieved when you shift to a more basic dance with him.

"I know what your strong suit is," you murmur, earning a wink from him and a squeeze of your ass. "Follow my lead." You do the steps a little slower, showing him how to mirror your movements, and he does get better, but each time he tries to take the lead you take it back with a smile. "It's not a very easy dance," you tell him as the song winds down. "Maybe the next one can be a slow one? You choose the song."

He puts a coin in and takes a moment before selecting "Amazed" by Lonestar. It's one of your favorites, and you smile at him as he grabs your hand and leads you back out to the dance floor. His arms around your waist and yours around his shoulders, it's like there's no one else in the room as you move together in a slow dance. The magic between you is undeniable.

"I love you," he says, gripping you tightly, watching the lights overhead glimmer across your beautiful face.

"I love you too, Joel," you reply, reaching up to kiss him.

"I swear I'll never stop lovin' you," he whispers, his hands cupping your face, committing every detail of this moment to memory.

A blissful little smile on your face, you kiss him again. "Good. Because I plan on loving you for the rest of my life." You gaze up at him, heart skipping a beat. "In fact, I've been thinking.. maybe we should tell Sarah about us.. I don't like us keeping this secret from her. She's old enough to know the truth."

Joel looks deep in thought, brows creased. "I don't know.. maybe. We'll talk about it tomorrow?"

"Of course," you agree, fingers stroking his hair.

Soon enough you're not even dancing anymore, just swaying and kissing, barely aware of the other couples dancing around you. It's as close to heaven as you can get on this earth. His hands gently squeeze your ass, kneading your cheeks as they slide beneath the hem of your dress. "No panties?" he whispers, automatically pressing his pelvis to yours.

"A G-string," you tease him, giggling a little as he lightly snaps the waistband against your skin.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack, woman," he sighs and kisses your hair. "Let's get outta here.."

It's a tempting thought, and of course you're willing to drop everything and go home with him immediately, but you also want to take advantage of this moment. "Just a couple more dances. Please? We came out all this way. Who knows when we'll get the chance again?"

The song ends; he tips up your chin and kisses you softly. "All right, whatever babygirl wants. I'm gonna head to the men's room real quick then us another round of drinks. I'll put on somethin' for us, maybe some Garth Brooks." He winks at you, walking you back to your table before he leaves.

As far as first dates go, this one is the best. You feel good, you're in love, and you know that Joel is going to leave you a sopping, quivering mess later tonight. There's nothing better than this.

You're finishing the dregs of your Shirley Temple and using the straw to scoop out the maraschino cherry when someone arrives at your booth but it's not Joel. It's the guy who was checking you out earlier.

"Hey there beautiful, you wanna dance?" he asks.

It takes you a second to realize he's actually talking to you. "Uh, no thanks, but I appreciate it. I'm actually here with my boyfriend." It feels good to say it, even if it's only to a stranger.

He just gives a wry smile. "That so? I don't see him around."

Your smile remains polite even though you could kill him with your eyes. "It doesn't matter if he's right next to me or all the way in Timbuktu. I said no thanks."

"I don't know why he's fool enough to leave a pretty young thing like you by your lonesome," he persists, and it's irritating.

"You don't get the hint, do you?" As you emit your snide remark you scan the saloon for Joel, and see his tall, broad, sauntering figure heading towards the bar. Ignoring the idiot trying to hit on you, you leave the booth, not wanting to be cornered, and make your way across the dance floor to Joel.

Suddenly the stranger grabs you and presses you to him in a lewd and suggestive manner. "Get the fuck off me!" you shout, but you're barely heard over the music. His grip is tight and as you're pressed up close you feel his hardness. A wave of nausea surges in your gut.

"What the fuck is goin' on? Get the hell away from her!" Joel shouts, saving you by pulling you away from the man's grasp. You're grateful until you catch the look in his eye, full of anger and blame. At you. You get out of the way before he pushes the other guy, who stumbles back but catches himself.

"You're gonna be sorry you did that," the other guy slurs, rearing back to throw a punch but Joel is quicker and lands his punch first, sending the other guy sprawling.

"Joel!" you shriek, but it's lost in the hubbub that ensues as Joel pummels the guy, beating him nearly to a pulp. You know better than to intervene and risk getting hit yourself, but even if you could, you're frozen to the spot in disbelief.

Security comes and manages to pry Joel off the guy, but the damage is done. The other guy is groaning, blood spurting from his nose and mouth, and more of that blood is on Joel's knuckles. He's promptly kicked out, shrugging off the security guards who try to escort him outside. He grabs onto your wrist, dragging you with him. You've never seen him this angry.

The night is hot, sweltering, but a cold sweat forms on your brow as Joel, in silence, leads you back to the truck. His hand is wrapped around your wrist pretty tightly. "Joel what the fuck did you do that for?"

"You defendin' that asshole?" he mutters, not easing up on his grip as he walks quickly with you in tow.

"Let up, will you?" you whine. "I'm not defending anyone, but that guy was obviously just a drunk idiot. You could've just pushed him away from me and be done with it."

"Looked like you were actually enjoyin' yourself. I didn't see you strugglin' in his arms." He looks down at you with a cold stare.

You're so shocked you can only stare back, not believing what's actually going on. "You're fucking kidding me, right? I was petrified!"

"Sure you were," he mutters, still dragging you past the parking lot and to the secluded area where you had to park.

"Joel," you grunt again, your heart starting to pound like a jackhammer at the way he's treating you. "You're hurting me!"

"Quiet," he grumbles. "You don't know what pain is." As if he hasn't manhandled you all the way out here to the truck, like a gentleman he opens the passenger side for you. You start to climb in but his hand presses against your back, bending you over.

"What-" your startled question is cut off as Joel uses his free hand to lift the hem of your short dress, revealing your ass to him. Blush reddens your face, and much to your surprise you start to get wet. He just has that effect on you.

"Can't believe he was grabbin' on ya while ya had this little thing on." He snaps the strap of your G-string and you whimper at the sweet sting. "Don't think I can't see that glistenin' lil' pussy between your thighs. You get all wet for that sumbitch?"

"No," you shake your head, starting to feel dizzy with pleasure, with confusion, even a little bit of fear. "Only you."

Joel just grunts and abruptly digs his fingers into your cunt, causing you to cry out.

"Really? All this for me? Don't want nobody else to touch ya?"

You shake your head, too many words and needful moans crowding your throat. "Just you," you croak out.

He starts moving his hand, roughly, and the hand pressing your back now squeezes your ass, grabbing it, and then you feel a sting as he spanks you. You gasp, body moving forward as he spanks you again, rubbing your cheek as if to ease the sting right before he does it again, all while he fucks you with his other hand, feeling you coat his fingers with your juices. You hear him unbuckle his belt and there's the sound of clothing being moved and shifted aside. He moves your right leg up so that you're stepping on the running board, then he's hot and hard at the opening of your cunt, pushing in his broad tip.

"Beg for it," he growls in your ear, his hand pulling at your hair.

Your heart throbs so fast you worry it'll just explode. "Fuck me please," you whimper, body tense and taut as wire.

He shoves your G-string to the side and rams himself into you, both of you crying out, and then he begins to fuck you, mercilessly, hands gripping your hips as he drives into you. He's deep and rough, all previous gentleness lost in the intensity of the moment. But damn it if you don't press back against him, eager for more of him, showing him you can take anything he's got.

"You're mine, got that?" he rasps in your ear. "Mine to fuck any damn time I please."

"Joel," you whimper as he pushes in especially deep, so deep you can feel him in your belly. "Fuck.." He stays there, pressed deep against you, purposefully, as if to embed himself into your very soul.

"This is exactly what my little slut needs, ain't it?" He pulls out slowly then slams back in. "This is what keeps her in line. This is what she gets for wearin' a little nothin' dress with little nothin' panties underneath, dancin' with other men while my back is turned."

His words hurt more than the actual slamming of his cock into your willing body. "I wasn't," you gasp.

"The hell you weren't," he mutters, and grabs your arms, pinning them behind your back, as he uses them for leverage, speeding up, fucking you like he hates you. You wail into the interior of the truck, which moves vigorously with Joel's forceful movements.

"Joel!!" It's a supplication, a reverence, and you don't know if you want him to stop or to keep going, but he lifts you up against him, your back flush to his broad chest, and he tears the buttons off the front of your dress, pulling down your bra and exposing your breasts to his hands, which grab them with his rough touch while his hips ruthlessly pound against you from the back. In a maddening surge of animalistic lust your cunt clenches around him as you come, your hands steadying yourself on the edge of the passenger seat. Your mind goes blank as you get caught up in the intense pleasure. Joel grunts and thrusts more quickly against you, pinning you forward on the seat again, his hips pounding forcefully against you. You know this rhythm, you're familiar with the movement of his body as he's about to come, and you try to pull yourself up but he's stronger. "Joel, don't you dare--" you're cut off with a long, low groan as you feel the warm eruption of his come deep inside you, and you're shocked how your body reacts by milking his orgasm with another of your own. He fills you up, his hips eventually slowing to a rest as he sags over you, his panting breath hot in your ear. "Jesus," you whisper, at the same time as he growls, "Fuck."

He pulls away from you and realization sets in for him. His cum is trickling down your inner thighs. And though a primal part of him has been craving to see it, he also knows he fucked up. "Wait," he tells you as you get back up. From the glove compartment he grabs some napkins from a fast-food place and carefully cleans you up. You wince a little, just now feeling the soreness between your legs. "I'm sorry," he says, he voice low and full of shame. "I didn't mean to. I just.."

You don't know what to say as he's wiping himself away from you. Even when you weren't being careful, you were somewhat careful by him pulling out. And this was just carelessness. You hear him saying something, but there's a ringing in your ears, and all you can concentrate on is the warm, squishy feeling in your cunt.

Joel helps you into the seat and gets into the driver's side once you're both properly put together and buttoned up. Within minutes you're on the road, heading back towards Austin. Joel's mouth is dry as his mind plays over what happened. He took you the way he'd take a random woman on a one night stand. He projected his jealousies and insecurities onto you when you were innocent in all this. He has no words for you that can suffice to make things better. To drown out the silence he puts on the radio. A Faith Hill song, staticky at first, fills the air.

You can kiss me in the moonlight On the rooftop under the sky, or You can kiss me with the windows open While the rain comes pouring inside Kiss me in sweet slow motion Let's let every thing slide You got me floating, you got me flying

"I need to get the morning after pill," you tell him, only comfortable while the music is playing.

Joel nods, eyes flicking to you nervously. "There ain't any drugstores open right now. I'll get it for ya in the mornin'."

You're quiet, watching the white of the lane markers disappear, in stark contrast against he black of the road. So few cars are out. "Are you okay to drive?" you ask as you pass a police cruiser.

He looks at you for a moment. "I only had two beers, I'm good." Even in the dim light of the truck you can see Joel is pale, not looking like himself. Nothing about this night has shown the Joel you've come to know and love deeply.

It seems like forever until you reach your neighborhood, and instead of pulling up to your driveway he pulls into his. Tommy’s truck is still there, and the lights in the house are still on.

“I’m gonna take care of ya,” Joel mutters, gently combing his fingers through your hair. You lean into his touch like a shelter pet seeking affection.

He lifts you out of the truck. The skirt of your sundress is stained and sticky with his come, but he picks you up and carries you bridal style towards the house.

Inside, Tommy and Sarah are playing a board game, looking up with expectant smiles as Joel walks in with you, and then their expressions turn serious. "Is she okay?" Sarah asks, getting up from her seat.

"She's fine, just a little ill." Joel says, bringing you upstairs. "Tommy, you can get yourself home," he says over his shoulder. "And don't tell your little girlfriend Sofia nothin'!" he warns. You remember that you and Joel were supposed to sleep over at your house tonight while she's working, but he's brought you here instead. He only sets you down once you're in his room, perching you on the bed and removing your boots and socks before he gets a bath running in his adjoining bathroom. You're in a daze with the night's events still fresh in your mind, and just go with the flow. Joel is treating you with utmost tenderness and you let him.

Sarah takes a peek in and you give her what you hope is a normal smile. "Tommy just left. Are you okay?" she asks after a beat.

You flash back to just an hour earlier, when Sarah's dad pounded you from behind, accusing you of cheating, or at least wanting to cheat, and how you can still feel the remnants of him leaking out of you. Jesus, you'd never tell her the truth.

"Yeah," you answer her, just as Joel comes out. The bathroom is already steamy from the hot water.

"To bed," he tells Sarah, and she lingers just a moment, as if deciding to disobey or not, before she finally goes to her room. Joel locks the door. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs to you, lifting you from the bed and bringing you into the bathroom. He gently undresses you, peeling your dress over your head, and your stomach flutters as he pulls down your underwear, the tiny scrap of material you'd hoped to surprise him with tonight. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" The look on his face is one you've never seen before: one of absolute concern, almost as if he were your own father, looking out for you after your first broken heart.

"I'm fine," you manage to smile. "You don't have to do all this for me.."

He shakes his head and helps you step into the warm tub. Sleeves rolled up, he gets a bath sponge and adds some soap, then gently glides the sponge across your skin. You haven't been treated to such luxury since you were a kid, suffering with congestion, and your mom would sit with you in the steam of a hot shower to loosen the crud in your lungs.

Joel's touch is gentle, brushing across your chest, slowly over your breasts, smiling a little at the sigh you give, watching your nipples rise to attention. He's in no hurry as he continues over your belly, down between your legs as softly as possible, wiping away his residue drying on your thighs. You give a little murmur, keeping his hand there, and he simply follows your lead. He drops the sponge and traces his bare fingers over your flesh. "Are you sure?" he asks, more than ready to do what you want him to, but he's already crossed the line in more ways than one tonight.

"Yes," is your breathy response, bringing his hand where you want it most, and he obliges, tracing your folds, gliding across your crease and finding you already slick. He closes his eyes, still feeling how you resisted earlier that night, still tasting the fear in your kiss as well. It gives him pause until you move his hand for him.

You're still just a kid, you don't know what you want he wants to say. He wants to scold you for wanting him, and even more, he knows he deserves to suffer for bringing you to this point. But the words are stuck in his throat, leaving a burning there that he bears in silence.

He loves you. He can't let you go. And he knows he doesn't deserve to keep you.

"Joel.." your voice breaks through his pensive thoughts, and when he doesn't answer right away he almost lets out a gasp as you rise up and pull him towards you by his shirt, kissing him fiercely. There's no point in resisting you. You're naked, skin soft and slippery from the soap. He grabs you and lifts you out of the tub, pulling you to him, wrapping you softly in a fluffy towel. You're not quite dry as he brings you to the bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses. "Babygirl," he mutters, gently kissing away the tiny rivulets of bathwater that drip down your skin, drying you off with his tongue, smiling as your skin jumps in reaction. From the delicate cleft between your collarbones, down towards your breasts, lapping up any stray droplets of your bathwater with his tongue.

Your cunt clenches in anticipation, breath growing heavy with the need to moan. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head as Joel's tongue swirls around each nipple, cupping each breast, running his thumb over your stiffened peaks. Already your thighs start to shake, and he grips them in his strong hands. "You're so responsive, baby.. I'm only halfway there.."

He's determined to take his time, as atonement for his earlier crudeness, his rough liberties with your body. He intends to soothe your ache with his kisses, with lips and tongue, wherever you need them, wherever you want them. You've put up with his brutishness, and now you're getting his gentleness.

He follows the patterns the droplets trace down your skin, gently nipping at your soft skin with his teeth, glancing up quickly to see if the moan you give is one of pleasure, and continues his path, smiling to himself as you whimper and shake, murmuring his name. To him, there's never been a sweeter sound, one that he savors as he finds his way down to your trembling thighs. He gently lifts them, his hard cock twitching as he hears your breath catch in your throat.

As he kisses the soft crease between your torso and thigh, he works at undoing his jeans, quickly undoing his belt buckle and freeing himself from the confines of his boxers. He eagerly takes himself in his hand as his tongue flicks over your sweet wet cunt, his hot breath on your sensitive flesh making you gasp. He hasn't had to handle himself since you started sleeping together, but he's resolved to make you come apart using his hands, his mouth. He'll handle his own pleasure until he's worthy enough to be inside you again.

Your hips lift to meet his ravenous lips and tongue, trying your damnedest to be quiet but a few squeals, a few gasps of excitement escape, and you know you'll be heard. You don't care.

Joel's tongue swirls over your clit, sending a beautiful shock that zips from your brain to your heart. You gasp and buck against him, fingers grabbing his hair. He shudders at the sensation, groaning against your flesh as his tongue dances over your heated skin, tasting you with a primal need. He fucks his fist eagerly, imagining it's your sugar walls wrapped around him, making him twitch and jerk in anticipation of cumming.

"Don't stop, don't stop," you whisper, begging for the continuation of this savage pleasure. He growls in response, not breaking the contact between his mouth and your cunt, his tongue and lips worshiping every inch of your quivering flesh. "Never," he whispers fiercely, his voice a guttural snarl. He takes his hand away from his over-sensitive cock for a moment to concentrate on you. "You taste so damn good, babygirl.."

"Fuck!" you whimper as your legs quiver. Joel is relentless in his ministrations, working tirelessly to drive you over the edge. His large, rough hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth works its magic, his own need growing with every moan, every shiver that racks your body. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" you say behind your own palms pressed to your mouth in a desperate bid for keeping quiet. Your hips lift up and Joel can feel your body tensing, the sweet sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips, the scent of your arousal filling his senses.

It's like lightning when you come, the pleasure uncoiling itself from the pit of your stomach as Joel continues, feeling your body shudder with every lap of his tongue. His body strains with the efforts of keeping himself in check. He strokes himself with newfound vigor, spurred on by your sweet-sounding moans, the beautiful sight of you laid bare, wrecked by your pleasure, your pussy pink, sensitive, and very drenched. He comes, a little of it landing on your thigh. He takes off his shirt and uses it to clean you up, gentle on your skin, murmuring his love for you. Getting undressed down to just his boxers, he spoons you, gathering your body against his, kissing your hair, hands caressing yours, hoping his love for you will erase whatever bad you think of him.

Not until the wee hours of the morning do both of you finally get to sleep. Waking up later, your body throbs, a pleasant soreness all over. You recall the night before, both the bad and the soft parts. Without one, you couldn't really have the other.

When you turn to face Joel he's not there. His side of the bed is empty, his spot cold and made up. You sit up, gathering the sheets around you. From downstairs there's the sound of the radio, or the TV, you can't tell, and Sarah's voice as she talks to someone. You feel a jolt of relief when you realize it's Joel, his deep voice booming in response.

Dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, you join them in the kitchen, shyly, as if you've never been a guest in their home before. They turn to you, and you meet Sarah's questioning eyes. "Good morning," is all you say.

"You're just in time, breakfast is ready," Joel announces, in a particularly goofy mood this morning. He does a double take, seeing you in his clothes, and you notice his gaze darken. He has to rein himself in while Sarah's in the room.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, and you can see she's bursting at the seams with questions about your night before you came home with her dad.

"Yeah, great," you find it impossible to stop a blush on your cheeks. As she goes to set the table, Joel takes your arm, presses a small kiss to the top of your head. "You should take your pill after you eat. I left it in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom," he whispers, letting go of you just as Sarah returns for silverware.

It's a nice, quiet morning. Joel made bagel breakfast sandwiches and too much bacon (as usual) and Sarah cut up fresh melon and strawberries. "You should have woke me up. I'd have been happy to help make breakfast," you tell them.

"Nonsense. You're our guest." Joel smiles fondly at you, and his glance flickers to Sarah. Your stomach does a flip flop as you worry that he's going to drop the bomb on her right now. But it would be the perfect time to tell her about your relationship, wouldn't it?

You feel a mix of relief and, oddly, disappointment as he changes the subject. The story is that yes, he took you out dancing, and yes, he got in a fight with someone who was harassing you. His knuckles are bruised, but that's the extent of the damage he took. Something about those bruises gets you wet. Joel was completely feral that night, and then tender afterwards. You admit to yourself you'd like to see that wild side again, and it shocks you.

Sarah just shakes her head at how bull-headed her dad can be. He's not violent, but he has that capacity and you witnessed it firsthand. She gives him a lecture, actually scolds him for his actions, and Joel nods, either going along with it or really taking her words to heart. Either way, you start to see that his own daughter takes the lead sometimes. She takes care of him, you realize, smiling as your heart melts at this scene.

Once you're full, Sarah asks if you want to hang out, go to the mall, the park, anything. "Maybe later," you tell her, catching Joel's look over her shoulder. It's a relief when she agrees, and gets ready to leave with friends for the time being.

"What should we do today?" you ask, getting up to rinse the dishes. Joel stops you in your tracks. "Hey, I'll do that. You go relax." He dares a kiss while you're alone. "I didn't tell you how good you look in my clothes, babygirl.. it's makin' me think all kinds of thoughts.." His hands are on your waist, drifting down to your hips as he nuzzles your neck.

"I'm thinking movies.. and sex. Lots of sex," you grin, turned on at the thought of having him to yourself for the rest of the day.

"Are you sure?" he asks, brow furrowed even as his face turns pink with desire. "I think we should talk about last night."

"Okay," you nod, arms crossed as you lean against the sink. "Don't ever do what you did, ever again." Your voice is stern, and part of you is pleased when Joel looks chagrined.

"I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget how new you are to all this, to.. being with me," he whispers, darting a glance towards the stairs on the lookout for Sarah. He rubs your arms. "I'm sorry. I won't be rough with you like that again."

"What?" Your filled with confusion. "No, not that. I meant you should apologize for accusing me of flirting with that idiot at the bar. You know I don't care about anyone else but you, Joel.."

It's his turn to look puzzled. "That's the part you're mad about, not the.. the rough stuff?"

"Turns out I didn't mind the rough stuff as much as I thought I would," your smile is askew.

There's a darkness in Joel's eyes when you say that, and it stirs your soul as he pulls you close. "I apologize for sayin' you were lettin' that asshole put his hands on ya. I was crazy jealous. You were turnin' a lotta heads last night."

"I was not," you giggle, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

"You were, and it made me proud and possessive at the same time." He sighs. "I shoulda handled myself better."

You kiss his cheek, savoring the little sigh he gives as he closes his eyes. "I forgive you.." You pull away slightly, fingertips stroking the stubble on his jaw. "This was our first argument as a couple."

"I hope it's the last," he says, bringing you close for a kiss on the lips.

With Sarah out for awhile, you settle in for a movie, take your morning after pill with a glass of water, and rest your head on Joel's lap as you watch Tombstone.

The tale of the old west has you absorbed, though you've seen this movie at least fifty times since you were a kid, mostly with your dad when you were younger. You feel Joel's thumb delicately swiping over your cheek, his hand smoothing over the dip and curve of your waist and hip. It's a comforting gesture that turns into one of playfulness, then desire.

His hand goes under your shirt, tracing patterns over your skin, creating goosebumps on your flesh. Your nipples harden and as if he can read your mind, he grazes his thumb in circles over the stiffened peaks. Your back arches, inviting more of his touch. Joel's touch grows possessive, fingers skating over your belly and down to your cunt, covered by his own pair of boxers. "That's the hottest thing ever, you wearin' my stuff," he says, his thick fingers teasing your folds, lightly skimming over your clit. You give a low whine as he teases you, circling your tiny bundle of nerves without actually putting pressure, then pressing just enough to make you want more before he takes the touch away again.

"Joel," you groan, and he quiets you with a kiss, pulling you up to him to sit on his lap. Your shirt is off, boxers pulled down. There's something more than the usual urgency that comes with your shared desire. Last night you crossed a line that can't be uncrossed, as if you've unlocked a new level of your relationship.

"On your back, darlin'," he says gruffly, getting up as you do so. He pauses the movie before going back to you, seeing you laid out on the couch. "Mine," he says, eyes taking in your body, from your innocent, beguiling eyes to the damp V between your legs. He sits in the splay of your legs and pulls your thighs over his, his cock jutting out through the hole in his boxers before he slides it in, his eyes flicking to your own, watching the look of astonishment there.

You feel vulnerable beneath him, and flashes of the previous night flitter through your mind. But you've made up your mind to trust him.

"You tell me if this feels uncomfortable, okay?" his voice is husky, almost a growl.

You tell him okay, breathing his name like an invocation, that same breath catching in your throat as you feel him gather up your wetness and spread it on your tight puckered asshole. Your question dies on your lips the moment you feel him start to move while his thumb circles your ass, gently delving in to tease, to test your limits. He thrusts again, deliberate and long strokes and still he gathers your wetness and uses it to press into your ass. "Is this okay, darlin'?" he asks, though your answer is already evident in the way your face scrunches in pleasure, the slight pull of your hips, welcoming him, even as you clasp around his invading fingers.

"That's my girl," Joel exhales, rocking steadily into your body. "Do you want more?"

"Mnh.." is all you're able to say until you force yourself to speak up. "Yes.." You gasp when he pounds into you faster, your hands on his forearms, nails digging into his skin. "Joel.. wait!" You shiver as he stops momentarily, a concerned look in his handsome dark eyes. "Remember, you can't come in me.." you tell him breathlessly.

"I won't," he smirks, thrusting slower than before as he gazes down at you, and you swear there's a look in his eyes that you've never seen before, not even from the previous night. You cry out as he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the rising nipple as your hips rise up. He hovers over your lips as he starts to thrust forward, fast and hard, watching, waiting to see your reaction, to see that one split second of worry.

When he knows he's about to explode he removes himself from your cunt then pressing just the first few inches of himself into your ass, loving the way your eyes get big, your face flushed with surprise. He gives a few shallow strokes before he comes, twitching as he grunts out his pleasure. When he pulls out, his leavings drip out of you.

"Joel.." you gasp, torn between being turned on and scandalized.

"Hang on, babygirl. I know you didn't come." He scoots down, letting your thighs bracket his head. "I didn't say I was done with you yet.."

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dividers by @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics

[brainr0t-landfill]

T

Chapter One: You get baptized.

Captain Price x male reader

(T.W: forcemasc fetish, kidnapping, forced headshave, reader is currently girlmoding, implied stalking, implied cheating)

The road to your new home is long and wet John is stiff in his seat as the cold lights of the bumfuck, misreable town you called home for years bleed across the dark car he wonder if you can see them if you're still awake, rain splashes against his front window.

Wrongness gnaws at something burried deep in his chest even though it's been hours since your struggle has died down; your desperate pleas and pathetic threats muffled by an old rag and held in place by duct tape, all the frantic energy in your soft body weighed down by exhaustion, he feels bad for you so confused and lost but he knows he's doing what's right like his old man always told him.

"No one finds their true love, son."

He'd tell him sitting on his old throne shallow, warm glass of whiskey in hand.

"You make it, wives like your mother are for husbands like me. I didn't find her on the side of the road as she is today, made her i did."

The contradiction is that Senior Price was more shaped by his wife than his wife by him John's mother with her dishwasher white knuckles and red stained lips, an ex whore, a cols blooded creature in a warm home trying to make her claws into wings.

The contradiction is that John never wanted a woman like his mother, never wanted a woman at all.

On the edge of town he stops the truck, turns the engine off and steps outside walks through the murky mud puddles to the trunk pops it and beholds you, curled into yourself with eyes like a desperate dog you thin wrists held together by zip ties, knobby knees knocking against eachother.

He kneels infornt of you on one knee like a crude mockery.

"I know you're confused."

He tells you rubbing across your ribs,

"But in due time you'll get it luv, I'll be so good for ya, never gonna want for nothing y'hear?"

He gives you his best smile but you don't respond he shushes the sniffles with a heavy hand grabbing you by your scruff and dragging you out, you don't struggle at all and he gently rips the tape off it leaves red lines across your pretty, soft cheeks and pink lips glossy with spit.

"Please, please I won't tell anyone I need to go home please please-"

He stands there as you kneel on the ground big paw rubbing at your sore jaw as you work yourself into tears and sobs begging for things you don't want, he sees your eyes stuck where the sun is setting on the other side of the road desire peeking out like teeth.

"Shhh, shhh it's alright now, it's alright"

He tells you as he rubs his hands across your beautiful locks, such a shame

"I'm not gonna hurt ya luv, no, no not at all. But you need to trust me, alright?"

He looks down at you and clicks his tounge in dissapointment but of course, men are proud animals they play best when they think they'll win, they grasp at any chance to prove their loving masters wrong.

"Looky here, let's make a deal, yeah?"

He takes a deep breath and plays a gamble, rolls the dice knowing he holds every card.

"A year, ya stay with me a year, listen, and be good and if by the end of that year ya still wanna go back home, I'll let ya. Hell I'll even drive ya, drop ya off at the door. But untill than you play by my rules, yeah luv?"

He asks and rubs his calloused hand over your cheek watches the war raging behind those eyes.

"O-okay."

You croak out and your trembling seizes as you steel your shoulders.

"Okay, y-you've got a deal, just please don't hurt me."

He pats your head and takes the clippers out, drags you to the gutter, walk you on your knees deep into the filthy water, stains your pretty, modest white skirt not that you'll have much use of it anymore.

You start screaming again struggling like a feral dog, he thinks of what name to give you, dogs get new names after all to know what they should answer to your old one never fit you anyways.

"What are you doing-? What are you-"

He starts it up and runs it across your scalp, your soft hair falling into the water and your sweat stained blouse as be buzzes it all off, there will be better cuts in the feature; neat crew cuts like his in barber shops before your wedding and once every month, routine trims and beard oil.

"Oh don't pretend you don't know luv, look at you! Even with ya short height everybody can tell, ya make such an unconvincing girl, sweets but that's alright. Everybody strays sometimes, not ya fault ya never had anyone to guide ya right, ya just trust me, alright? Ya just trust me."

He burries your face in his crotch to muffle your noises as he shaves your head feels you go limp with shame.

He pities you, he doesn't know what it's like to be seen after a life spent hiding, to be in the light after two decades of chasing it.He strips you off your skirt and blouse there, pockets your jewelry and wedding band takes out your I.D and taps your picture there.

"Ya recognize her?"

Your lips twitch, mishapen face scrunched up in shame.

"No, ya don't, ya never did..."

He thinks for a second, what to name you, who to make you, how to love you.

"Tommy, Tom Price, ya recognize that?"

You nod and he brushes the hair off your scalp as he leads you back to the car, lays you in the back seat to stew, throws his uniform jacket over you.

"Wait-"

He looks down, at you half hidden under the jacket, pulls it further, tucks you in to hide a body that's of the past.

"Yes luv?"

"What's you name?"

He smiles and huffs out a laugh that's been brewing for weeks, weeks and weeks of watching you, feeling your yearning eyes burn kisses on his skin.

"Jonathan, Jonathan Price, ya can call me sir."

[ochipi]

So I might’ve actually lectured my lecturer. He’s an archivist, but not a historian (in the broadest version of the word).

Previously mentioned: Roman archives, didn’t really survive because of wax tablets and papyri decaying but we know they wrote and archived. Sure.

After the disappearance of the Western Roman Empire (he was very safe with his word choices here), archiving or writing large amounts of texts wasn’t really a thing, until the Arabs came by the 12th century and Europe was archiving again.

HOLD THE FFING PHONE RIGHT THERE! And I did ask why he was reasoning this way. He didn’t really got me immediately so I provided him with examples.

Roman law didn’t disappear, it was held up and added upon. (Fine = income!) we know this because A) we have catholic additions on it making pagan elements in society illegal, B) we have written versions of the Lex Salica as old as the 8th century, C) Carolingian Minuskel is a thing, learned how to read it at previous Uni.

They just continued copying/translating Greek to Latin to f.e. Diets.

Laws are only useful when you have an institute that has them, can check on them and execute them. All those laws are stored somewhere (= archived).

Handy for cloisters to know how many properties they have and what they provide in income and how much they cost.

Roman law became regional, the Goths, Salic Franks, Anglians all had written law. The Catholic Church even invited Irish monks over to baptize Europeans and they introduced the space in written language in the process to make it easier for them. Writing… archiving…

The Catholic Church was very keen on making martyrs immediate saints. Their stories were recorded (!) into hagiographies. We still have those. They were kept (archived!) in churches and cloisters.

They like their heroes. Tales like Beowulf are 8th century. The church wrote their hymns down so they could hand it out to their singers. The church provided education. The male elite could write…

Gregorius of Tours wrote his Historia Francorum. He wrote the history of the Francs, while they were still around! That’s archiving!

Yeah sure, they wrote how the Vikings were invaders and so on and on. But they wrote it down in the cloister archives!

I mean I can continue. But these were the things I mentioned in class.

To clarify, the Arabs did not re-introduce the production of archiving material and archives themself. They were just never gone. What the Arabs did do was re-introduced science! (Scream it out loud for the people in the back!). While Charlemagne was busy killing Slavs, the Arabs had libraries (Baghdad House of Wisdom) and research institutes and were good mathematicians and astronomers (many stars in our night sky have Arab names to this day). Europe owes a ton of stuff thanks to the Islamic Golden Age. But not really recording and archiving.

On the other hand, I was later informed that the lecturer started panicking because i apparently cornered him good. I just took the one time I get to prove that the last five years of me working around the Early Middle Ages wasn’t for nothing. I don’t want to apologise

[joshua-beeking]

Lemme tell you the story of this gun my wife showed me.

At first, I immediatly assumed it belonged to her grandfather who was a lieutenant in the french military. Not a fan of guns and didn't think much of it.

" No it belonged to my great-grandmother!"

She then told me the entire story of badass great grandmother Jeanne, that I need to share here.

Its important to note the time period it takes place in: Right smack in the middle of WWII.

Jeanne was of Jewish heritage but she immediatly realized things were starting to get ugly concerning Jews and took the decision to baptize herself and her children at the last minute so she had paperworks to show Nazi officials to lie about her jewish upbringing. This move saved her life and that of her children.

Some times later, another nazi official was investigating the weird deaths of his collegues in the area, and was suspecting resistance hideouts down the river because thats where they found the bodies So he knocked door to door, and asked if anyone noticed anything, under threats obviously.

Jeanne opened the door and told the Nazi official she didn't notice anything, playing the role of the frightened by everything going on, harmless young lady, living alone after her husband died. The guy immediatly dropped his guard , and Jeanne invited him inside for tea since it was already late and cold out.

The -moment- he stepped inside and his back was to her as he removed his coat. She took out this exact gun out of her dress and shot him point blank in the head.

-She- was the resistance member killing Nazis knocking on her door, dumping their body in the river, so the bodies would travel south to a region well know for resistance soldiers, and making the nazis think it was them killing officials patrolling the area. They -never- suspected her. Being a woman, living alone and "with a fragile constitution".

Absolute badass great grandmother Jeanne was shooting nazis daring to knock on her door with this very gun, avenging a large portion of her family, who didn't make the decision she did and were lost to the war.

Huge respect, Great Grandmother in Law. Huge respect.